MTU: Hard To Look At - Chapter 4 (Patreon)

When I woke up I couldn’t remember falling asleep. It was still dark according to the clock even though I could see clearly. I felt wide awake so I got up. I used the bathroom and went downstairs.

Mom was in the kitchen looking like she normally did in the morning, painfully thin like she was about to waste away. She barely grunted at me as she struggled to lift a box of cereal. I rushed over and helped her pour her first bowl. She nodded gratefully as I poured the milk. She was already spooning it into her mouth rapidly, though to her it must felt like it was going slowly.

Since she did not like being watched when she had to load up on food, I excused myself. I went into the breezeway and looked outside. I saw a bird not far away. Looking around to make sure I was alone, I flashed my inner eyelids open and close quickly, catching the bird as they were unfurling their wings to take flight.

I stepped out the door and brought the bird into the garage, setting them down on my work bench. I opened my inner eye and really examined the lines and swirls of color only I could see. This bird was more vivid than the other bird, the lines more dynamic. I grabbed a drawing book from the shelf and it suddenly clicked. The swirls were the bird's underlying musculature. The lines were possibly veins and arteries or nerves. I could see the petrified anatomy of someone I petrified. I could also see a faint glow emanating from my palms. That desire to touch the bird was back and I knew somehow I should place my palms against him.

I needed to know what this was about. I placed my palms on the bird's chest and back as those were the flattest parts of the bird in this pose. Nothing seemed to happen for a moment. I concentrated on my palms when suddenly I felt a surge of power. The glow on my palms brightened. The crazy display of colors became more rich. I felt a little warm all over.

"Medusa!" Mom called.

I released the bird and snapped my eyes shut in case she was coming in.

"I made pancakes. Come and eat," she continued.

"Be right there," I called back. I got up and looked at the statue. Since I didn’t want to leave it trapped in the garage an hour from now, I picked it up and set it down outside facing away from the house.

I went to the kitchen where Mom was looking fit, rather than deathly ill.

"You're up early," Mom noted.

"Yeah, I'm not sure why," I replied as I sat down at the table. "I feel very awake this morning."

Mom sat down in front of a huge stack of pancakes and laid out her plan for getting me a new wardrobe. As we talked Daddy arrived and ate a couple pancakes before heading off to work. When he left, Mom got up too and gave him a kiss goodbye. "I'm going upstairs to find you something to wear to the mall," she told me.

I finished my breakfast and cleared the table. Having one's twist apparently only got you one day off from your chores. When I went back to my room I found a jogging outfit on the bed. The top was basically a jacket with a zipper and the bottoms had a simple drawstring waist.

"Mom?" I called. "Don't you want me to wear anything under this jacket?"

She zipped into my room and said, "Normally, you would wear a sports bra and a T-shirt or tube top of some kind under the jacket of a jogging outfit. But, you’re going to be taking off and putting on that jacket so many times today, you will be glad you aren't wrestling with pulling a shirt over your hairsnakes every time you do." When a few of them hissed, she added, "See? Even they agree."

I had no reason to protest even though I felt like this was a bit risky. Was I a prude?

"Besides," she continued. "It'll make you look a little frumpy. Your head is going to call a lot of attention toward you. You don't need your body doing it too on your first excursion to the mall, do you?"

"Well, isn't being stared at something I need to get use to?"

"You will have a whole lifetime of guys and some gals gawking at your boobs and long legs, dear," she said with honest sympathy. "And unlike most girls your age, you haven't had fifteen years of training, learning what it's like to be looked at like a prize to be won by creeps and gentlemen alike. You’re not only gorgeous, you’re also exotic. You've seen yourself in the mirror. Wouldn't the old you drool over the sight of you, hairsnakes or no hairsnakes?"

"I wouldn't even try to talk to me if I were Gordon."

"No, most guys would consider you out of reach," she continued with disdain. "But you know which classmates would pursue you, and probably will pursue you. What do those guys have in common?"

I thought about who the school players were and realized where she was going, "They're all jerks, far more interested in themselves than the girls they date."

"Thankfully, you are aware of the problem. But, has it sunk in that you’re now playing the game from the other side now?" She wondered. "You handled being ostracized because of your looks very well. And I'm sure that at first, your current looks will continue to put some people off. But, you're very tall, thin, curvy and have big boobs. The boys at your school will eventually find your hairsnakes normal and after that they will only see you as a hot babe. Go to the mall frumpy while you can. There's no need to rush into looking your best when you have nothing at all to wear."

I felt overwhelmed by the foresight and understanding Mom was displaying so I pulled her into a hug. It was oddly comforting even though I towered over her. "Thanks, Mom," I choked out.

"You're welcome," she replied stiltedly, perhaps not expecting me to express my thanks like this.

We separated and I said, "I don't know where that came from. You never really gave me a talk about boys before. Not that I needed one. Um. Relationships, that's it. You never talked to me about relationships between adult partners before."

"I don't know what to say. I would have stepped in if I’d witnessed any misogyny from you," she replied. "I guess I always thought of that as your father's department."

"Daddy was always so distant," I explained. "Last night, I heard about his best friend growing up. I was the longest story I've ever heard him tell about his youth."

"Daddy?" Mom asked. "I’ve never heard you call him Daddy since you were like three years old."

"I don’t think I’ve thought of him as Dad…" – I had to pause not to put the "Eee" at the end of Dad – “since he picked me up at the Clinic."

"He never speaks about his youth. The fact that he told you the story yesterday is amazing." After an awkward pause, she joked, "If this is how you react to a talk about boys I can't wait to see how you react when we have the full feminine hygiene conversation."

* * *

There were not a lot of people in the mall, but I was turning every head. I heard a little child asking his Mommy why that lady has snakes on her head when it wasn’t Halloween. In fact, with my heightened hearing I could make out more of the conversations left in my wake than was comforting as several of them involved young men posturing with one another at how they hoped I would make them rock hard. I suspected they wouldn’t be the last guys to make that joke about me. Some also speculated about what they would find at the top of my long legs.

We arrived at a specialty lingerie shop. The old me would have been beet red at the thought of going in here, worried that he would be kicked out at any moment. Today, I was just glad to get out of the open part of the mall.

"Oh, my gracious me," the older saleswoman exclaimed as she caught sight of me. "You are just stunning. And far more out of proportion than most girls."

"What do you mean?" my mother asked.

"They won’t bite will they?" she asked as she reached toward my forehead with a tape measure.

"If I want them to," I said. "Go ahead, it’s safe." I held my hairsnakes at bay while she measured from near the top of my head to my waist and from my waist to the floor.

"For a girl your height, your waist should be six inches lower and your diaphragm should extend another couple inched down. Here and here." She said putting one hand on my thighs and the other just above my belly button. Not to mention your narrow waist. You are going to have a rough time finding clothes that fit," she explained. "Since you aren’t wearing a bra I’m guessing you twisted recently?"

"Yesterday," Mom said. "She’s bigger than me and since she’s so tall I figured she should get herself measured first."

"All women should get themselves measured, Deary," the lady said. "And every few years get your size rechecked since gravity is not your girls’ friend. Now let me see about the young lady. I might need my step ladder to reach over your shoulder. She managed to take measurements in various directions around my chest. She declared me a 34D and called that a normal size. When I mentioned that I did not think the cup would be so high, she explained that cup size goes up as the chest diameter goes down. "Your upper ribcage is nearly as narrow as your tiny waist. A corset is going to love you, dear."

She handed me a dark emerald lacy bra and pointed me toward the fitting area. Mom had been right about wearing something easy to take off and put on. I unzipped the jogging jacket and laid it aside. My mother gasped. "What?" I asked.

"Your back, have you looked at it?"

"Not really."

"Your skin has that orange hue to it but down your spine starting from your hairsnakes, the color deepens to a rich green stripe about a couple inches wide."

The woman got a large hand held mirror and angled it so I could see my back. "The way the colors blend is very striking," she commented.

"I didn't think to look at my back."

"Shall we get back to your front?" She asked. After I nodded the woman put down the mirror and stood behind me. She told me to bend over. Then she showed me how to get all of my breast tissue into the cup before standing up by literally reaching into the cup of the bra and pulling my boobs into the cups. Though she did it with the casual air of someone who would say, "I've pulled a million boobs into bras. They're just boobs," they were my boobs and my boobs had not been handled in such a manner before.

When I stood up I was shocked at how much the bra caused my breasts to thrust forward. She made a few minor adjustments to the straps and then asked how it felt. "That is so much more comfortable than going braless."

She showed me how to work the hooks and then I tried on a couple more bras for fit. We ended up buying several green bras, a couple orange bras, and a couple sports bras. I wore one of the green bras out of the store. It felt that good. I could not believe the price of a bra. As we left I asked Mom about where the money would come for this.

"A friend of your father’s suggested we open a savings account as a contingency for an unusual Twist. You were about four at the time. There’s quite a bit of money in that account so we can easily afford an entirely new wardrobe. Hopefully, there will still be something left in the account when we’re done."

"Clever."

"And if you had never needed it, we'd have vacation money we could use once you went to college."

"Was I invited?"

Mom immediately pointed to our next destination, "Next, everyday wear."

At the next store we tried to find me normal clothes but the jeans weren’t available for girls with my narrow waist and long legs. We tried some normally knee-length skirts that barely made it down to the middle of my thighs. I was not ready to wear skirts that short. The blouses felt like dresses since some of them also reached down to my mid-thigh.

We had nothing but underwear and bras when we went into the shoe store next. My feet at least were only slightly on the high side of average, meaning they looked dainty on my large frame. She picked out a pair of sandals that looked okay, a pair of sneakers, and then I saw them: snakeskin pumps. I needed to have snakeskin shoes.

Mom thought I was crazy, "Those must be five inch heels. You’ll break your neck in them. And you really don’t need to be taller."

"But, they look so good and they don’t come in a smaller height."

"Gor-- um, Medusa, you are not ready for stiletto heeled shoes."

"Let me try them on," I begged.

"Fine," she relented handing me a box in my size.

I opened the box and let my fingers run up and down the shoe. I was already wearing socks from trying on the other shoes so I slipped the shoe onto my foot. It was a perfect fit. I got the other one on and stood up. I had thought I was tall before but adding another four or five inches to my height was unbelievable. I could see over everything in the store.

I took a few tentative steps without falling and became emboldened. After just a few stumbles, I was walking around the room with a casual ease. When I returned to the chair I had started from, Mom was just staring at me awestruck.

"How did you do that?" She asked.

"I have no idea," I replied. "But, I am curious." I reached for a lower, chunkier heeled shoe in my size that was just leather. I put them on and walked around feeling less confident. I wobbled more and was taking the occasional baby step. "It’s the snakeskin. I must have an affinity for it, or a compulsion."

"Well, would you wear those pumps to school?" She asked. "That’s the important question."

"I guess so," I relied. "Daddy said I need to be true to who I’ve become."

* * *

We left the shoe store with a pair of sandals, dark brown flats, a pair of sneakers, and my snakeskin pumps. From there we were headed to another clothing store when I stopped in front of a boutique shop with a dress in the window that caught my eye. It was white, voluminous, and sleeveless with lots of draping.

"I want to try that on," I told Mom.

"Really?" she asked incredulously. "That's a very dressy dress. You couldn’t wear it to school."

"I need to try it on."

"Okay, let's go in."

She followed me inside. Many of the dresses in here were wonderful to look at. I was cringing on the inside at the thought of wearing a dressy dress. I guessed it was the draping that was setting off my compulsion. Draping in sculpture always fascinated me and now I was attracted to it in clothing.

While I was gawking, Mom found a saleswoman. "This is my daughter Medusa. She just twisted."

"You have wonderful skin, my dear," the woman said reaching to shake my hand.

Taking it, I said, "I want to try on the white dress in the window."

She took out a measuring tape. "Oh, dear, I'm afraid that dress wouldn’t look good on you. That one is designed to raise the level of one's hips and you don't need that at all. Why don't you try this one. It's more a cream color and should complement with your skin tone." She flipped through a few dresses on a rack before pulling one off in my size. It was gorgeous. "Follow me to the dressing room."

I would have followed her anywhere. In the dressing room I removed my jogging suit and even the hairsnakes cooperated to get the dress over my head. It was similarly draped and had just one wide strap of flowing material going over my left shoulder. In the mirror in the dressing room, the dress flared slightly below my hip making my torso look longer. A golden clasp sat at the shoulder holding two separate straps on the same side. The two pieces of fabric ran down my chest, cupping each breast separately creating a peek-a-boo window between my breasts. The dress stopped just slightly above my knee. Most of my upper back was also exposed. It was a bit disconcerting. But at the same time I loved the look.

"Are you okay?" called my mother.

I stepped out of the dressing room and over to a three-way mirror.

"Oh, honey, you look amazing in that dress," Mom declared. She started to tear up. “You should be wearing one of the orange bras though. It wouldn’t show through the front as much.”

"Yes, she does," added the saleswoman. "Do you see how this ruching here seems to pull your hips down?"

"I love it," was all I could say. "Are they all this fancy? I don't think I could wear this to school."

"To school? You mean like a prom?" asked the saleswoman.

"No, I mean to everyday classes," I replied hopefully.

"My dear, these dresses are meant to be evening wear. A girl your age should be wearing lighter, less busy clothing."

"But all the tops felt like short dresses and none of the pants fit my long legs."

"You went to a normal clothing store, right?" the saleswoman asked. "I have another store here in the mall that has similar tall fashions as we have here but they are casual wear instead of formal wear. Why don't you head over there and try on some clothes?"

"I had no idea those two stores were related," Mom stated.

After purchasing the cream colored dress, we went to the other store where we were greeted by another saleswoman who seemed to be expecting us. I immediately noticed a leather skirt. It was long and narrow and I just had to try it on. Mom insisted I find a top before going into the changing room. I had several tops, skirts and a summer dress by the time I went to the changing room.

It turned out I had a thing for leather, like the snakeskin pumps. But, the real reason I didn’t like the other clothes was not because I needed draping. It was the sleeves. I felt uncomfortable in any top or dress that had sleeves or wide straps. Spaghetti straps and strapless tops were comfortable. I also didn’t like tight pants. Baggy pants like the jogging outfit were tolerable. I just didn’t like having fabric tight against my inner thighs. I also seemed to like clothing that pinched at the knees. The summer dress was functional but I liked wearing one with a mermaid style. While most of my tops were sleeveless, I discovered I liked shawls. Most girls layered jackets over their tops, I was more likely to layer a shawl over mine.

"This did not turn out as I expected," Mom said as we took a break in the food court. "I expected to be buying you a bunch of jeans and T-shirts, just cut appropriately for your body. The only denim in here is a tight skirt."

That was one of my favorite skirts because the opening at the knees was the narrowest of all. I guessed I was going to be a good girl since I liked to keep my knees locked together.

"I also expected to just buy T-shirts and jeans," I agreed. "I don't feel as weird about buying dresses and skirts now that I've been trying them on."

"Well, normally I’d suggest a trip to the hair salon but that's one aspect of being a woman you won't get to enjoy," Mom said half-jokingly. "How about a nail salon to do something about those sharp nails?"

"You just want to see me with nail polish on my fingernails."

"That too," she admitted. "C'mon, it'll be fun. I thought you were embracing the new you."

"I knew I never should have told you that."

When we got there we were lucky to get an immediate opening. A woman older than I expected showed me to a chair. "Well, look at you, do you control those things?"

"Mostly," I said trying to sound unsure of myself.

"Oh," she had been reaching for my hands but jumped back.

"Don't scare the woman," Mom admonished me.

"They listen to what I tell them to do but they can act on their own."

The woman finally took a look at my nails and made ticking noise by drawing air between her teeth, "Tsk, tsk, tsk, these nails are wonderfully long but the shape is scary. Do you want me to reshape them?"

I could feel discontent forming among the snakes, "Well, I guess so. I don't want to hurt anyone with them." The snakes grew louder and were definitely hissing.

The woman let go of my hand. "I've seen this before. The thing is, I'm guessing you just twisted. When a twist makes this kind of specific change to things like hair or nails, changing them can cause problems. Now, how about we just give them some color and leave the shapes alone."

As she said this the snakes stopped hissing, although a few different ones seemed to be against the coloring. Though they did not hiss as vehemently.

"It's too bad you aren't wearing any makeup that we could coordinate the color with," the woman said.

"Make up," Mom exclaimed. "I almost forgot."

"I'm not so sure," I stated.

"Oh, what young woman doesn't like makeup?" the woman asked.

"The kind who can shatter mirrors with a glance," I replied.

"Really?"

"Oh, I forgot about that too," Mom admitted.

"There's a lot of mirrors here not shattering," the woman said nervously.

"Well, no one's poking at my eyes."

"Okay, you could still wear lipstick, blush... I was going to say foundation but your skin is almost flawless so you don't really need it. Still, there's lots of makeup that doesn't involve poking at your eyes. An eyebrow pencil could give you a bit more definition above your eyes. Would that be safe?"

I sighed. "Yes, that all sounds safe. Stuff that lines the eye could cause a problem."

"In that case, there's also eye shadow," the woman added. "Though your eyes really don't need enhancing." She turned her attention to my hands. "I'm going to put a dark green polish on your nails and then put a thin silver streak down it. I think pulling those colors out of your friends there will pop, especially if you can get a matching lip gloss, or perhaps a few shades darker. Just make sure it's a pure green, not something found in leaves, like a holly green."

"I'll go with whatever you think works," I accepted.

She started working on my nails, buffing the edges. If she hovered her hands over clippers or scissors my hairsnakes would hiss. At one point she commented, "Can they see?"

I closed my eyes and said, "Point at something." When she did, I told her she was pointing at my mother.

"You can see through their eyes? Wow, that is one major twist."

"You don't know the half of it."

"I think I do," she whispered, leaning in close conspiratorially. "I heard a rumor that someone at the high school was turned into a statue and is now hidden in the basement so no one will find out. Any truth to that?"

I looked at Mom who shrugged then nodded. "Very little," I admitted. "The school nurse tried to check my eyes while I was unconscious after my twist. And she was petrified. It only lasted a little over an hour. I don't know what the school keeps in the basement."

"Your eyes are open now. Am I in danger?"

"Do I look dangerous?" I asked swiveling my hairsnakes in her direction. "My eyes are not fully open. If I did open them you'd be petrified and the mirrors behind you would shatter."

She jumped back a bit. "Don't do that with your friends up there," she admonished. "You wouldn't want me to mess up your nails."

She changed the topic and soon my nails were dried and polished. She had even rounded the very tips slightly taking the edge off. A few doors down we found a bath and body shop and Mom insisted we ask them about body wash for my unusual skin. They actually had a test kit to determine what kinds of botanical soaps would work best to keep my skin soft and healthy. Mom bought some body wash and a scrub sponge.

We went to the cosmetics counter at one of the mall's end stores. An older woman there retreated as soon as she saw us and we had to wait a few minutes while another salesclerk came over from another department to help us. Mom was muttering about how she could not understand how people like that lived in Spiral.

A few minutes later another saleswoman arrived and spoke with the woman hiding from us. The later arriving woman walked up to us and said, "I'm terribly sorry about my colleague over there. She's deathly afraid of snakes and is embarrassed by her inability to maintain a professional attitude."

"It's okay."

"Well, you are too kind. Now, what can I do for you?"

"She wants a makeover." Mom blurted out.

"I do not want a makeover." I interrupted. "The woman at the nail salon suggested I find a similar or darker green colored lipstick to go with my nails."

"Your face is so exotically gorgeous even I don't think you need a make over. I would recommend a little eye shadow to really bring your eyes out. And maybe a gold eyeliner."

"No way," I said. "Just the lip gloss."

"You're being rude," Mom loudly whispered.

"Should I come back?"

"No, it's fine," I said. "What you don't realize and Mother here seems to have forgotten, is that I woke up yesterday morning as a sixteen year-old boy. My twist turned me into this Ancient Greek myth and changed my gender at the same time. I'm not interested in makeup and considering what these eyes can do, the last thing I need is to call attention to them."

"Do I want to know what they can do?"

"The snakes should be a clue. It only lasts about an hour." I blurted out. "I also shatter mirrors when I use that trick."

"Okay, I can get you the lip stick. I think this would look good on you." She said reaching into the display case and got out a silver tube. She spent a few minutes teaching me how to apply the lip stick. It looked very striking in the mirror. "Are you sure we can't try a little eyeshadow?"

I sighed. "Okay, just don't get too close to my lashes." After she got out a few powders, she put some yellow powder on a small applicator and told me to close my eyes. I moved some snakes around to get a view of what she was doing.

"What are they doing?"

"I can see what they see."

"Well, then you have nothing to worry about once you learn to do this yourself," she explained. "You can use them as your mirror, you don't have to worry about shattering a mirror in your face."

"I didn't think of that."

She applied two colors to my eyelid and showed me how to blend them. Then she demonstrated applying eyeliner on herself. I ended up getting several types of makeup, including eyeliners and mascara.