MTU: Hard To Look At - Chapter 7 (Patreon)

I woke up Thursday morning with a queasy feeling in my gut. I figured it was nerves: today was my first day back to school. I hoped taking a shower would help me get settled. I did my business in the bathroom and felt a little more awake. That seemed to help.

I felt the need to wear my other leather skirt and another crop top tank blouse. I managed to get my feet into sandals without feeling any pull from my pumps. I was going to have to buy more leather skirts. I got out my makeup case. I looked at my nails and they still looked good so I applied the lipstick as I had been shown. I didn’t have a mirror. I didn’t need one. I had a few snakes looking at my face. I also applied some eye shadow very faintly because it helped tie the lipstick into my the rest of my face. It took a few tries to get it just how I wanted.

Putting away the case, I went down to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Medusa," Mom said. "I'll have a plate of scrambled eggs ready in a moment."

There was a plate of bacon and some toast already on the table so I took a slice of toast and a few strips of bacon and combined them waiting for the scrambled eggs.

Mom turned around and put the plate down. "You look great, honey," she stated. "I like how the makeup looks. It's subtle."

"I was going for 'Hey, I wear makeup now but that doesn't mean I want to look like a clown.'"

"Well, it certainly meets that criteria. Now eat, your father will be here in a few minutes."

Just as I was finishing my juice, Daddy entered the kitchen. "I swear you look prettier each time I see you."

"Thanks, Dear," Mom interjected.

"I meant-- Oh, you look beautiful too, Dear." Daddy backpedaled. "I was just complimenting Medusa on her makeup."

"Thank you, Daddy," I said. Every boy wants to be their Daddy's beautiful princess. The queasiness returned.

Mom looked around the kitchen, searching for something, "Where's your purse?"

"Do I need a purse?"

"Look at the clothes you're wearing," she explained. "Where are you going to put your phone? Your wallet?" She zipped out of the room and zipped back. "I put your eye shadow and lipstick in here just in case you need to touch it up. Your phone and wallet are in here though we need to get you a wallet designed for a purse and not for a back pocket. Your house keys should be in here, too."

"Let's get going, dear," Dad announced as he got up. "You don't want to be late."

I added my house keys to the purse. It was a small, dark green leather purse – Mom called it a clutch – with a thin shoulder strap. I hung it from my shoulder and it hung down around my hip. "I feel awkward but I'm sure that's because it's just new."

"Yes, dear," Mom said kissing me on the forehead. "Have a good day on your first day of school."

"Compare it to the first day of school, that certainly makes me less nervous," I joked.

I got in the car with Daddy and he drove off. We arrived at the school shortly and I must have looked at Daddy oddly as he got out of the car. "I want to hear what he tells you," Daddy explained as we walked to the building.

I could feel every pair of eyes we passed looking at me. Whispers of who's that chick and what the boys and a couple of the girls would like to do with me reached my improved hearing. Not a single utterance of monster did I hear.

We entered the building and went directly to the front office.

A young woman working at the desk looked startled as we approached her. "Oh, hello. Are you a new student?"

"No, she isn’t. I'm Gregory Harrison and this is my recently Twisted daughter, Medusa," Dad introduced us. "We have an appointment with Mr. Jameson."

"I'll let him know you're here," she replied picking up the phone. ''He's ready for you," she said putting the phone down and pointing to his office door.

Mr. Jameson and Daddy shook hands as we entered and we were shown to a pair of chairs on this side of his desk.

He then sat down on his side of the desk before beginning, "Welcome back to school, Miss Harrison. Have you changed your name?"

"Medusa Harrison," I replied.

He raised an eyebrow at the name but just nodded, "I'll need your old student ID. We'll need a new photograph in order to issue a new ID. Ms Weatherswill help you with that when we're done here.

"Since your visit to the Clinic, have you noticed and changes in mood or personality?"

"No, none," I replied.

"Yet, you are just recently a sixteen years old boy who had an abrupt change in sex yet you are already wearing makeup and a tight leather skirt?"

"I find the makeup weird at times too," I calmly explained. "Wearing it is a conscious decision on my part in order to fit in. My parents always told me a day like this could come and that I should embrace whatever changes came. So, I'm embracing being a girl to make it easier to fit in. As for the skirt, I have a compulsion again wearing fitted pants or leggings. Neither of these things are part of my mood or personality."

"Okay," he said moving on. "Any incidents with your trick I should know about? Accidental firings or anything like that?"

"I have not turned anyone to stone who did not ask me to do it first."

"Someone asked you to?"

"Yes. Curiosity is a funny thing, I suppose."

"Who?"

"I don't believe I have their permission to share that information with you."

"Fair enough," Mr. Jameson replied. "This person or persons you have used your trick on. Did the duration vary from the hour Mrs. Rhymes spent petrified?"

"It did not. And I have not had any incidents of breaking any mirrors since breaking a bunch of mirrors and cameras at the Clinic."

"How about the venom found in the, uh,..."

"I call them hairsnakes," I replied. "And no one has volunteered to be bitten by one. I know as much about that as is probably written in your report."

"The reason for my concerns, Miss Harrison, is the psyche profile I received from the Clinic indicates that you are essentially still mentally the same as Gordon Harrison. I know Gordon had many problems with believing the football players were always picking on him. I want to make sure you will not seek any revenge again those boys or any other students."

Daddy laughed disdainfully. He was obviously upset, "I love how you worded that. You really believe Gordon was somehow delusional about those boys picking on him?"

"I have no proof that any incidents ever happened."

"And how much effort did you put into finding out?" He continued. "There are cameras all over this campus. Did you ever use them to determine if Gordon and the other boys were in the locations at the time the incidents took place?"

"Well, no, Gordon complained so many times at first that we saw no need to continue investigating."

"Brilliant," Daddy leaned forward. "Be sure to use just as little diligence should someone report being petrified or you'll be hearing from my attorney."

"Now see here," Mr. Jameson puffed up in anger. "I won't have you threatening me."

"And I won't have my daughter threatened by anyone." Daddy reached into his jacket pocket. "Place this letter in Medusa's file. She is not to be questioned by anyone regarding any disciplinary event without me or my wife present for the ENTIRE meeting. You'll find it is signed by the Superintendent and has a file number for when it was placed on record with the Board of Education." He turned to me. "I expect you to behave yourself. But, if there's trouble say nothing until we arrive. Now, go get your student ID taken care of. I'll finish up here."

"I wasn't done," Mr. Jameson complained.

"Yes, you were," Daddy shot back as I left.

I went back to the receptionist about getting a new ID. She took me to a room with a camera hooked up to a computer. She had to adjust the height of the camera before she could take the picture. I made sure many of the hairsnakes were facing the camera when she took the picture. A few minutes later I had a laminated student ID with my new name and picture. I was also given a late note for getting to my first period class late.

I stepped into the thankfully empty hallway. I hurried to my first class and entered. Every eye in the room was locked on to me. The sounds of gasps, expletives, and prayers to God reached my keen hearing.

"What the fuck!"

"What is that?"

"Check her out."

"Snakes!"

"Those legs!"

Over the comments and a couple literal screams of terror, Mr. Hoagland's voice pierced the din. "Settle down, class. It's just Miss Harrison." He announced, "I assume that is a late note in your hand." He was talking to me, now. Curling his fingers in a come here gesture.

"That's Gordon?"

"She's hot!"

"Snakes are freaky."

"What color do you think her nipples are?"

Visions of petrifying the whole room and smashing them all with a bat conflicted with the desire to flee, or shrink to the size of a flea. I stepped toward the teacher and after an eternity handed him the note.

"Miss Harrison twisted Tuesday afternoon. Are you changing your name?"

I nodded mutely and he waited for me to reply, "Um, Medusa."

"Splendid choice. Please take your seat and let's see if we can salvage part of today's lesson."

I had not thought about how much taller I was now, nor how much of that height was located in my unusually long legs until I tried to sit down in one of the school desks. I turned sideways and backed into the seat. Since my knees would not fit under the desk with my feet flat on the ground, I ended up crossing them off to the side, kind of sitting side saddle.

"Those sure are long legs," someone whispered and suddenly I was reminded that all eyes were watching my every move.

Mr. Hoagland cleared his throat and resumed the lesson. My snakes confirmed everybody was staring at me. I knew what the boys were thinking. I knew exactly what some of them were thinking. I couldn’t understand why I was of such interest to the girls.

When class ended a few people tried to get my attention at once, but only one of them called me Medusa so I turned to face Stacy Kellor. She was a pretty brunette known to lead a group of girls known as the Fashion Police. I was suddenly very nervous about being noticed by her.

"Medusa, I've got to know," she declared leaning close to my face. "Is that lipstick?"

"Yes," I replied. "My natural lip color is orange-colored."

"Oh, that would be so wrong," she nodded. "Did you pick that color?"

"I picked the shade after the store clerk suggested I needed something."

"Well done. I approve," she said turning to go.

I wasn’t sure what to make of that conversation but I didn’t have time to ponder it.

I arrived on time to my next class and caused less of a stir, catching half the class off guard as I entered and the other half as they entered. Still, the comments I overheard were a mix of sympathy and male hormones. I managed to seat myself more gracefully this time though actually sitting side saddle still seemed awkward.

Jeff Rogan, sitting behind me, looked nervous. I turned and said, "They won't bite, unless you're poking at them."

"Th-that's good-d to know," he sputtered. "Could you k-keep them off my desk?"

I gave him a sly wink and turned back around. I swept my hairsnakes up in my arms and pulled them to the front leaving one of the longer ones behind and hovering off his desk, watching him.

Mrs. Garcia, a tiny slip of a woman, entered and began her lesson.

I don't know why I did it. Jeff was neither friend nor enemy. Catching glimpses of him squirming amused me during the boring class.

Without warning a bunch of my hairsnakes thrust themselves outward on my right side, intercepting a spitball fired at me.

People on that side of the room reacted in shock, a couple girls and one guy shrieked. Several guys laughed. The teacher exclaimed, "Miss Harrison, what is this outburst?"

I reached up to one of the hairsnakes and pulled the spitball from it. "Some juvenile thought it would be funny to provoke my hairsnakes with a spitball," I calmly replied. "Not realizing that the bite of my hairsnakes is poisonous, I suppose they could not understand how foolish their actions were."

Mrs. Garcia looked to left side of the room, my right side, and asked, "Who did it?" After a moment with no response she pointed out the three boys who reacted by laughing and myself and told us to stay after class.

Wonderful. I got to stay after class because of those idiots. I had my hairsnakes keep an eye on them for the rest of class.

When class ended the room emptied until it was just the five of us. "You three," Mrs. Garcia started. "Apologize to Miss Harrison for shooting a spitball at her."

Two of them mumbled something that sounded like "Sorry, Medusa." But Frank Myers said, "I didn't shoot anything at the freak."

"Fine. Instead you can apologize for calling a fellow classmate a freak."

"I call it as I see it," Frank continued. "It doesn't mean anything. My mother has horns. I call her a freak to."

Mrs. Garcia was getting mad. "Just because you can insult your mother at home does not mean you can insult people at school. Do you understand?" She was growing taller and more muscular as she seethed with anger.

"Fine, fine," Frank said backing away from Mrs. Garcia. "Medusa, I'm sorry I called you a freak."

"Get out of here," Mrs. Garcia growled at the boys.

They ran out of the room. I was going to follow them but Mrs. Garcia held up a quickly shrinking hand. "Idiots," she mumbled. "I don't like to hulk up like that but sometimes these kids need a virtual smack. It's not like we wanted to twist like this."

She wrote me a late note. "Don't think I didn't see you messing with Jeff's head, my dear. If he has a problem with snakes you of all people should cut him some slack."

I thought about denying it but instead nodded, "I will."

She also nodded and pointed at the door.

Showing up late to third period was not as shock-inducing since word of my twist had gotten through the school's grapevine. Still, hearing guys talking about me like I was a list body parts was both off-putting and enlightening. Just a few days ago I would have been one of the guys ogling this body if this had happened to someone else.

Sitting down this time was smoother than my first two attempts. I was sitting next to Jenny Wu in this class and realized I wasn’t intimidated by her. She was just another pretty face, like me. Of course, her boyfriend was that prick, Tommy Radner.

Professor Zintaught this math class. Zin was neither male nor female, though he preferred male pronouns for simplicity. He looked like one of those fabled Area 51 aliens with the long head and big triangular eyes. What made him strange was how he spoke without his face moving in any manner and the pitch of his voice varied by several octaves often after each word without rhyme or reason.

My hairsnakes were on edge, moving around like there was something they did not care for around them. It was most likely Zin's voice. Nothing I could do about that.

When class ended I went to the bathroom, the correct room, thankfully. After doing my business, I stepped out of the stall and saw Jenny brushing her hair. As I went to wash my hands, she said, "I don't know how those snakes feel, but they have to be better than brushing long hair."

"I think they are heavier than hair and drying between them is slow since a blow dryer isn't good for the skin." I explained. "They definitely have some useful traits, but that is wiped by their shock value."

"Are they really that shocking to someone who's met Professor Zin?" She said with a laugh. "You're getting stared at because you're gorgeous."

"And I used to be a guy."

"That also contributes," she agreed looking me over. "Nice skirt. It's also surprising to see on you because of who you were. And that blouse, guys don't bare their shoulders normally."

"For some reason I feel really uncomfortable in pants or when my shoulders are covered."

"I'm not sure I should say this but I'm sorry about Tommy."

"You've got nothing to be sorry about," I replied, as the atmosphere became unwelcome with the change of topic. "I've got to get to class," I said as excuse and fled from the bathroom.

I hurried up the backstairs to get to my next class when I actually bumped into Marie.

"Oh, hello," she said. "Are you new at school?"

She had not heard about me? "No, I'm Gordon, Medusa now. I've twisted."

"Oh, now the rumors make sense," she blushed. "I heard Gordon turned into a gorgeous she-monster. I couldn't understand why they would say that. You were never a monster. Are we still on for some sculpting after school tomorrow?"

"I'm still looking forward to it," I replied. We said our goodbyes and I hurried to my next class.

The muttered comments at the start of class were becoming fewer and fewer and the lustful stares were increasing. This was another reminder that I had spent more time focused on my trick and not enough time on my becoming a girl. How do girls get use to getting those looks from horny guys?

Lunch was not even close to the time of day when I could relax that it use to be. The comments about me while I waited on line were deafening.

"That snake is staring at me."

"I heard she has a short thick snake between her legs."

"I want to run my hands down that green stripe on her back."

"That's sick."

"Oh, those legs..."

"I bet she's stuck up now."

"She petrified Jenny in the bathroom. Just swung the stall door open and froze her with her pants down then walked out all mad about something."

"Probably get Tommy next."

"She dresses like a slut."

"Yeah, isn't it great?"

A voice rang over the din, "Freak ain't getting me." Tommy strode past those on line and stepped in front of me. "Heard what you did to Jenny, Freak," he poked at my chest.

"I spoke with her. Whatever else you heard was a lie," as he poked at me a second time I caught his finger in my hand and twisted his arm backwards. "If you want this broken, say something else I disagree with." I stared him in the eyes, my hairsnakes staring too.

He locked eyes with me and I ended up looking away first. He smirked triumphantly and didn’t say a word as he walked away. This was far from over.

Finally, I made it to the front of the line. I bought my lunch and made my way toward my usual lunch table. Elliot, Pete, and Jim were already there. I sat down and said, "Can I not be stared at here?"

Pete, a short boy I have known since kindergarten, looked down and then back at me. "Sorry, dude, but you’re hot."

"You find 'dudes' hot now?"

"You know what I meant," Pete responded. "Calling you Medusa sounds funny. How about we call you Meg?"

"Meg?" I asked confused.

"Well, it's almost short for Medusa and it's better than Sue in place of Sa."

Jim, who had been silent up until now, added, "And I don't think you want to be known as Deuce."

"Probably not," I agreed.

"Do they bite?"

"If I let them, or I get distracted when someone messes with them." I leaned in and whispered, "Sometimes they have minds of their own."

"Your twist has to be ten times worse than mine," Jim added, holding up his hands. They were at least twice as big as they should have been. He use wear a hoody jacket and keep those mitts in the front pockets of it before he realized no one cared about his big hands and feet. Of course, it helped when some of the girls started a rumor that a usually unseen body part had been enlarged similarly. He had ended up being the target of a dare and had enjoyed helping the girls verifying their theory. Since then he didn’t mind if people saw his hands.

"Only ten times?" Elliot asked. "He's a girl now and looks like a mythological being. That's got to be at least eleven or twelve times as bad."

I had been nodding until Elliot pulled that swerve on me. "Hey."

"Don't leave your mouth open like that," Jim warned. "Unless you want to see if you can handle me."

"If you want," I said coquettishly. "But I'd probably end up petrifying you and breaking that beast of yours off." I added making a snapping-in-half motion with my hands and saying "Oops" in a high pitched voice. "Accidentally, of course."

Elliot and Pete burst out laughing.

Recovering quickly, Jim retorted, "It might be worth it, babe."

And the rumors that he was a bit too cocky were also true. "I hope that was a joke," I demanded.

He looked like he was going to tense up, but Pete put a hand on Jim's arm. "Of course, we assume you still like girls."

I shoved a forkful of food in my mouth and looked down at my tray.

"You like guys?" Pete whispered too loudly.

"I don't know," I replied. "I haven't had a chance to even think about my sexuality."

"I think that's the polite way of telling us you are one hundred percent virgin," Jim concluded in a soft voice. "Haven't checked out the equipment yet, have you?"

"Would you mind?" I was getting upset. "There hasn't been time."

Elliot interrupted, "Let's change the subject."

"You should just slap this dweeb in the face," Stacy Kellor declared. She and two members of her clique circled the table.

Melody Richards, a tall, redhead bent over and picked up my tray saying, "You were right. She does need our help."

Stacy took my arm and I found myself being taken to another table. I muttered something about the boys being my friends but the girls ignored me. I was sat down between Melody and the third girl, Tess Anders, while Stacy sat across from me. Trays of food were waiting for the other girls.

They ate politely as they spoke. "The only intelligent thing your friends said was you need a nickname. Medusa is a great name, but it's easier to call out, 'Hey, Meg.' in a crowded room."

"How did you know that?"

"Much better than Deuce," Tess extemporized.

"My people are everywhere."

Melody laughed. "It's her trick. She can pay attention to like a dozen different conversations at a time."

"You're Twisted. I had no idea."

"And I'd prefer to keep that knowledge quiet," she glared at Melody. "Who helped you buy your clothes? You're mom?"

"Is there something wrong with my clothes?"

"No," Tess interrupted. "That skirt is almost killer. It's just obvious the clothes were chosen by someone older."

"Can I interrupt?" Asked Melody. "I've got to know. Third day as a girl and wearing a sleeveless blouse and skirt? What's up with that?"

"I said we shouldn't grill her," Stacy complained. "Though, I am curious about this myself."

"I was raised knowing I might twist into someone very different than I once was so I'm just embracing the new me." I proclaimed, then added after a pause, "That and I have a strong compulsion against pants."

"That doesn't explain the lipstick."

"Looks hot," I said.

They laughed with me.

It was weird acting like one of girls almost. As weird as it felt being treated like one of the girls. I kept waiting for a prank to happen, ending what I couldn’t help assume was a facade at first. The prank never came. These girls seemed to be genuine in their offer of friendship.

They asked me about my trick and what happened to the nurse. Other than that the conversation was mostly about clothes. Stacy made sure talk about boys was minimal. I guess she did it for my sake.

After lunch, it was time for biology. The lab didn’t show any signs of my twist having taken place here two days ago. Even the mirror over the eye wash was replaced.

Ryan, Jared, and several others guys who had been there for my twist entered and made a point of bumping into my desk as the walked to their seats. Ryan made sure to have my attention as he glared angrily at me.

There were none of the comments about my appearance like before. People seeing me for the first time saw the way Ryan and his gang were staring at me and decided to stay out of it.

I was becoming upset and worried that I might start to cry. None of my friends, old or new, were in this class and I felt a little trapped. My hairsnakes started to hiss quietly and I had to calm myself down before they got any louder. I noticed the queasiness I had felt earlier was back as well.

Mr. Heinz entered and started the class without seeming to notice the tension in the classroom. I paid little attention to the class. I was watching Ryan and his pals instead. They were sitting all around me and dividing my attention among that many snakes made it hard to listen to Mr. Heinz. I was startled when the bell rang and Mr. Heinz hurried out of the classroom.

The boys rose from their desks as one and were stepping toward me when a voice called from the door, “Meg! Let's go, you don't want to be late for gym.” It was Elliot at the classroom door.

I packed up my books and raced out the door into the crowded hallway. Ryan's troop looked unhappy with my escape.