[TG/RC] A Cautionary Tale - Part 1 (Patreon)

Anonymous Commission

A hedonistic college guy who couldn’t care less for studying offends a witch and finds himself transformed into a middle aged Vietnamese woman who needs to learn the value of hard work.

~

Derek groaned; his ears were pounding and his head throbbing. Not just from the intense hangover but from the banging of a fist on his dorm room door. Groggily he reached over to his bedside table and flipped over his phone; 11:23am, who the fuck though it was a good idea to visit him before lunchtime? With a huff he curled up under the blankets, trying to block out the light and drift off again to sleep off the hangover but it was no use. He was awake now and having to deal with it.

The pounding on his door continued and a muffled voice called through but he couldn't make out what they were saying, mostly because he didn't care; he just wanted them to go away. With a huff he sat up, wincing at the bright morning light and grabbing two advil from his side table and swallowing them dry. He stumbled up to the door and yanked it open.

“What?” He growled out.

It was Jackson, his neighbour. Normally they were good friends but he’d not seen much of the guy the last few weeks; every time he’d asked him to hang he’d been too busy studying. Honestly, Derek had been considering dropping him as a friend all together the last few months. He was just such a stick in the mud, always wanting to talk about school or work and once they were a few weeks into the term, forget it. The dude was buried in his books. Now he was standing outside his dorm room with the audacity to look confused at his appearance and demeanour.

“Were you still asleep?” he gaped.

“Obviously.” Derek sighed, “Now what is so important you had to wake me up dude? You know I don’t get up till one on the weekends.”

“It’s Monday.”

“Whatever.”

“Anyway,” Jackson cleared his throat, “The results are out today, how’d you do?”

“...results?”

“Of the midterms?” Jackson added, looking even more confused, “Oh God, don’t tell me you slept through your exams again. I don't think they’ll let you retake the class a third time dude.”

Derek just rolled his eyes; Jackson, like most people, got so hung up on college. They liked to pretend it was this big serious thing that could change your life when really, all it took was  a few years of real world experience anywhere to get a job these days. Something his father could get him easily.

“Relax, I went. I just don’t really care what my grade is. C’s get degrees dude. In five years time all people will care about is that we have the degree, not how well we did in the class.”

“If you get one.” Jackson shook his head, barging past and heading for Derek’s laptop. “The way you act I’d be surprised if you even end up passing half your classes.”

Derek held back a laugh; he was so serious. Who the hell cares if he failed? There were plenty of other colleges he could go to. Cheaper ones too, not that it mattered, whenever he asked his father for more money he got it; that was all that mattered.

He flung himself down on the bed and sighed as Jackson tapped away; only pausing to search around his desk for his student login details.

“Ouch.”

“What?”

“Three C’s and a D,” He winced, Derek just shrugged.

Jackson just shook his head once more in utter bafflement.

“How are you so calm about this? Don’t you realise these classes can change the entire course of your life?”

That was too much; Derek burst into laughter and sat back up, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder.

“Jackson, we’re in our twenties; this is the prime  of our lives and you think I’m going to spend my time sitting in front of a computer studying all night?” He said incredulously, “College is all about partying, everybody knows that. When was the last time you saw a college movie without a wild party? Besides, connections are way more important than grades and last I checked, I’m a pretty popular guy.”

“That attitude is going to bite you in the ass one day, dude.” Jackson said seriously, “Mark my words.”

“Ooooh, I’m so scared.” Derek snorted, “Why don’t you go hop along back to your books while I order some breakfast.”

Derek flicked open his phone and started scrolling through DoorDash, looking for somewhere that was open. Jackson opened and closed his mouth a few times before throwing up his hands and walking out.

“Don’t know why I bother.” He muttered under his breath.

“Neither do I.” Derek called, he knew he was being a bit of an ass but that’s what Jackson got for waking him up early.

Especially today, if it really was Monday and their midterm results had just been released that meant the party scene was about to explode. Everybody was on holiday and ready to blow off some steam; the campus would be filled with gorgeous women ready to fall into bed and forget their books. Once again he cursed Jackson for waking him up; he was going to need his beauty rest today because come nightfall he was going to have his pick of wild parties to attend.

~

As expected, it didn't take long for the party announcements to start appearing on his socials. With the amount of people he had added he had his pick of open houses to join and eagerly he flicked through invite after invite, bookmarking the ones that looked the most promising. He was just drying off after his shower, flicking through his messages when a new one appeared and his smile went wide. Missy Darnell; one of his favourite classmates. Well, perhaps classmate was the wrong term to use seeing as they both rarely attended. She was everything the college films promised him as a young, horny, high schooler; blonde, busty and dumb as bricks.

She also happened to be so rich that nobody cared and was known for her absolutely wild parties. This one, it seemed, was to be hosted at her aunt’s house. As he flicked through the pictures of her decorating Derek felt his eyes go wide; it was closer to an ornate mansion than a house and the giant swimming pool at the back was impetus enough. It wasn’t summer yet but girls would look for any excuse to get into a bikini and squeal while the boys watched. He could already see it clearly in his mind as he texted back.

‘Count me in!’

Looking at the time, he had almost an hour to get ready before the party itself started. Good; he wanted to look his best. Hopefully this would be the day he finally got that bimbo into bed; he’d been dreaming about her curves all semester. Unlike most guys, Derek didn't care if a girl slept around a lot, in his mind that just made her all the more experienced. Virgins were overrated and boring, the last one he’d had was so nervous she barely moved and afterwards gushed about the experience as if it had been magical. A complete buzz kill.

He smoothed back his short, dirty blonde hair and smiled. With his bright blue eyes, tanned skin and muscular psyche he had no trouble picking up the ladies. He gave himself a wink in the mirror; tonight would be no exception.

~

The mansion was even weirder up close; as he stepped into the main foyer he was struck by the dark colour scheme of black and red tiles. The outside had him primed for one of those old southern gothic places inspired by plantations, with white marble columns and the like. Seeing dark velvet curtains across the windows and framing works of art almost gave him whiplash.

“Isn't it funky?” Missy grinned, greeting him in her bikini, “My aunt is so eccentric, I knew this place was the perfect spot for a party.”

“That’s certainly one way to put it.” He chuckled, poking at one of the brass crows that lined the bannister.

Missy led him through the house, talking about how much fun it was to decorate even though the only party additions he could see were the occasional bunch of balloons and a streamer. They were just about to exit out of the hall and into the back yard when Derek stopped; his breath leaving him as his eyes turned wide at a painting on the wall.

It showed a beautiful woman; with ivory skin and dark black hair cascading down her front. She wore nothing, her modesty only barely maintained by those dark locks. She was staring right into him, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Missy sighed, “My aunt was an artist's model, that’s her favourite portrait.”

“This is your aunt?” Derek gaped, forget seducing Missy, this woman was already replacing her in his mind as the evening's grand prize. “Is she here?”

“Of course.” Missy replied oblivious to the hungry look in her companion's eye, “She’s out by the pool.”

He couldn't move fast enough, stepping out into the garden and taking in the sights. The pool already had a dozen or so people in it and he scanned the crowd for the raven haired beauty. He made his way over to the bowl of punch laid out on an elaborate mahogany table that looked decidedly out of place next to a pool.

The night was young and as a result the punch was still more fruit than alcohol, something that was sure to change soon. He kept scanning, looking for the woman of his dreams as he slowly walked the area. He was so focused he didn't even realise he was on a collision course until it was too late and he slammed into somebody, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

“Hey, watch it.” He grumbled, dusting himself off before getting to his feet.

The person in question was a woman, old, far older than anybody who should have been at this sort of party. If Derek were to guess, she had to be at least forty, verging on fifty maybe judging by those crows feet and the slightly grey tinge to her black hair. The woman’s face twisted up in disgust as she hefted herself to her feet with a groan.

“No class, the men of today.” She muttered, “A gentleman would have at least helped me up.”

“You got to your feet didn't you?” He rolled his eyes, so dramatic. “Besides, you bumped into me. Now, if you’ll kindly get out of the way I have somebody to look for.”

The woman scoffed, crossing her arms and standing her ground. In fact , she stepped out in front of him when he tried to go around her.

“You think you can speak to me like that in my own home? If I had known Missy’s friends were so rude I never would have let her host her party here.”

Derek swore he heard a record scratch.

“Wait, you’re Missy’s aunt?”

“Yes.” She said smugly, “Does that inspire any sort of apology young man?”

Derek gaped, looking the slightly plump woman up and down; how on earth had the beauty from the painting turned into this middle aged disaster. Her eyes were smokey and her lips bright red; a young woman’s look that only turned him off further.

“But the paintings…Missing aunt is hot!” He gaped, “How the fuck did you get so…old?”

“Time does that dearie.” She raised an eyebrow, “And I’ll have you know I am what they call a mature beauty, I still model today?”

“For what? Halloween costumes? Maternity wear?”

“How dare you?” She seethed, “You come into my home, knock me down and now you insult me?”

“I just tell it how it is, lady.” Derek scoffed, turning to go back to the party proper, maybe Missy was still about for him to bed. “It's not my fault you’re old and washed up!”

He chuckled to himself, she didn't follow him of course, what would she say? Deep down she had to know he was right. In the time he had wasted wandering the garden even more people had arrived and the party was in full swing; he grinned watching several guys wheel in a keg; it had been a while since he had done a keg stand. Eagerly he ran over to help, setting up the funnel with practised ease.

The guys egged him on and a second later he felt somebody grip his ankles and he was upside down chugging while people cheered. The alcohol burned down his throat and when they placed him back on his feet his head swam pleasantly. He removed the funnel and cheered.

“Fuck school!”

“Woo!”

He grinned at all the other party goers and passed off the funnel over to Missy who did an admirable job following his lead. He followed the lead of many others, stripping down to his swim shorts and jumping in the pool. Derek forgot all about the stupid older woman and enjoyed himself. He swam, he flirted, he ate several little hotdogs wrapped in pastry; this was the life. He flopped down with a bunch of the other guys, all on the prowl and watching the pool like hawks for a slipped nipple or the like when somebody suggested it.

“A panty raid? That’s old school.”

“Besides, there is only one house here and it’s Missy’s.”

“Her aunts.” Derek corrected, “The old lady used to be a model, I bet she’s got some old sexy stuff from back in the day, even if all she wears now are granny panties.”

“Gross!” The guys jeered and one of them punched Derek on the shoulder.

“I Dare you to go get those granny panties.” One dared with a grin, “And jump into the pool with them.”

Derek grinned ear to ear; he was never one to turn down a challenge. Besides, that lady had pissed him off with her rudeness, he wouldn't mind embarrassing her a little. She deserved to be put in her place after being so superior with him.

“So this is your life then?”

He drunkenly swayed as he turned to find Missy’s aunt standing there, arms crossed.

“Wha’? The fuck are you on about?”

“Drinking, parties, slacking off; this is all you do?”

“Yup!” He grinned widely, holding up the panties and waving them tauntingly “Jealous huh? I’m in the, hic, prime of my life! Suuuuuucks to be you!”

“An absolute waste.” She shook her head, “I promised myself I’d give up the occult but I think perhaps I will make an exception this time.”

“Ooooh whatcha’ gonna do?” He said with mock fear, “Use a voodoo doll on me? Curse me?”

He burst into laughter as she rolled up her dark sleeves and began wiggling her fingers as though she were playing an imaginary piano. Holy crap, she must have been senile; he felt a small amount of guilt well up inside him at that. He probably wouldn’t have been as harsh if he’d known she wasn’t all mentally there.

He walked past her, heading for the door and trying to figure out exactly how to tell Missy how insane her aunt was when a force slammed into his back. It felt almost like being punched but when he turned to face it, all he saw was Missy’s aunt still half way across the room, with a small glow fading between her fingers.

“That should do it.” She sighed with a satisfied grin. She flicked her wrist and the sound of the lock slid into place in the door behind him.

“Hey what the fuck?” He pulled on the door handle and tried in vain to unlock it but no matter how hard he pulled, the lock refused to twist.

“I wouldn't go outside if I were you.” She said smugly, “It’ll take time for the magic to finish feeding throughout this reality, it might be a bit confusing if you want out half baked before the world is ready for you.”

“The hell does that mean?” He growled, “You open this door right now lady, this is kidnapping or some shit! I’m not above hitting a woman, I'll let you know!”

“I don’t doubt it.” She replied dryly, “You’re a nasty piece of work, hopefully you learn your lesson.”

“Listen here you….you…”

Derek blinked in surprise, he knew the word he wanted to say but he couldn’t think of it all of a sudden. The word that came to mind instead was ngu vấi but that wasn’t right. Since when did he even know what that word was? The woman said something else he couldn’t quite make out, not because he couldn’t hear her but because the words just…didn't make sense. It was just a random jumble of sounds with no meaning.

Was he drunker than he realised? No that couldn’t be it, he’d been hammered before, many times, and never had this happen. He took a step forward and winced, his ankle felt wrong, in fact, his whole body was starting to feel strange. It was as if he had pins and needles, his skin tingling all over making it hard to move without wincing. Missy’s aunt cackled and said something else he didn’t understand, except the last part; ‘good’ something, good bye? No, good luck!

He wobbled in place, trying to keep his balance while his whole body itched and tingled before reaching out to give her the finger. He never got the chance though as the hand that appeared at the end of his arm was…wrong.

His skin was dark olive in hue and he could see tiny spots where the colour darkened and lightened slightly. His nails were long and before his very eyes he watched as a thin veneer of pink polish appeared over them as if painted by an invisible brush. He wanted to scream but he was simply too shocked. His fingers got longer, the skin slightly less smooth as that darker pigment slowly spread up his bare arms. As it did, his hard earned muscles slowly melted away, leaving thin, weak arms in their place.

For a second, he thought she was trying to magically sap his strength; magic was the only explanation for what was happening right now. That or he took some really hard drugs without remembering and frankly, the former seemed more likely right now, as unbelievable as it sounded.

The dark pigment moved to his chest and he felt his heart pound hard against his rib cage. A pulse emanated from somewhere deep inside him and to his horror, his skin began to wrap and change. Ballooning out at a rapid pace until his smooth chest was home to two large round mounds.

He knew what he was looking at but it just didn’t make any sense! But as his nipples grew and dark brown circles extended out from them he could no longer deny what he was looking at. A pair of large yet strictly pert breasts were growing on his chest, getting bigger and heavier with each passing second as they turned to pretty teardrops and hung down on his chest.

If Missy’s aunt was still saying anything he had no idea, all his focus was now on his warping, changing body. His stomach groaned and a strange pressure formed inside him, it felt as though something were pushing his skin from the inside, making it balloon out. His knees pressed together and he felt his face burn in humiliation as he was forced to lean forward; not just to accommodate the growing weight in his chest but to allow his ass to swell.

He twisted awkwardly, watching as his swim shorts began to struggle to keep it contained. The baggy material turned  taut as the skin stretched and pressed into it and the elastic around his waistline strained. It was fully stretched out already, it simply couldn't stretch any further! Yet his hips just kept widening. So much so that he winced as the fabric cut into his skin, turning it red with the pressure.

There was no choice, he had to take them off before they ripped or cut off his circulation; he didn’t want to wait around to see which happened first. He slipped his fingers between his wide hip and the material just in time and lowered them down. His new peachy ass jiggled as the elastic squeeze down on it before springing free as he finally managed to pull it over his rump.

He was so used to his pants dropping to the floor by that point but it seemed his hips were not the only thing getting wider. His thighs were growing too and he was forced to awkwardly wiggle and sway to get the short down onto the ground.

Laughter met his ears and he glared over at the woman who had done this to him. When he figured out how he was going to end her. He wanted to yell, to rage at her that when his father found out about this she would be sued to high heaven, but again the words failed him. It wasn't that he couldn't remember them, more than the words that came to his lips didn't seem right. It was almost like another language.

He had bigger issues than his lack of communication skills though. While feeling his shoulders slope and his chin round over was bad enough, soon he could feel that tingling growing stronger in the very worst place; between his legs. He could only watch in horror as his cock began to shrink right before his eyes. Shrivelling and disappearing into the curly dark hair there along with his balls. He winced feeling them push back up inside him; Derek swore he could feel his insides churning, almost as if they were moving around.

Humiliation flooded his system and he watched as his now dark olive skin flushed even darker as he blushed. His face was burning but he could see the dark reddish hue spreading across his breasts and thighs as well, there was even a slight burn in his ass. He’d never been so embarrassed or emasculated before. He hugged his new middle, groaning as his body continued to become more and more feminine against his will.

A cool breeze seemed to emulate from nowhere,  causing him to shiver as it brushed against his inner thighs. There was more there now too, a strange dampness and absence where his cock had been. He looked down at himself; the big boobs, the peachy ass…surely not though, surely his manhood had not been replaced with a pussy. That would just be too much. He felt lightheaded, though whether it was shock or the physical strain he could not be sure.

Suddenly somebody was in front of him, Missy’s aunt, she was taking him by the shoulders and smiling. He could only blink at her, he was so confused, what was going on? She smiled one last time and said something his brain couldn’t comprehend.

And then she pushed him backwards.

His centre of gravity had shifted, his new curves unbalanced him and Derek felt himself fall. He squeezed his eyes closed, bracing for the impact of the hard wooden floor and-

He hit a mattress.

He blinked a few times in confusion. Instead of the ornate, high ceilings of the mansion he was looking at dingy grey plaster. He continued to blink, expecting his vision to clear and moment but it didn’t. He sat up and found he was in a tiny bedroom about a quarter of the size of his dorm room. Most of the space was taken up by a bed in which he was currently laying and he grimaced at the cheap, cotton sheets that itched at his skin. His skin!

It was still that dark olive colour and as he pulled back the sheets, confused as to how he’d even gotten under them in the first place, he saw his body was still that of a woman. He sat up, head still swimming as he looked around the room; it was cramped and full of strange looking clothes and boxes. Morning light was streaming through the windows; what the hell had happened last night?

He got up, wobbling a little, still unused to his new centre of gravity. He opened the door, expecting to find the rest of the apartment but instead found…a bathroom. That couldn’t be right, there were only two doors in the bedroom and opening the second revealed a dusty looking hallway. He closed it and collapsed back against the door in horror. This…this couldn’t be the whole apartment? Why on earth would he have come to such a horrible place?

He ran back to the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the rack and wiping the moisture from the mirror. A face stared back at him; one he didn't recognise. Yet when he recoiled in shock, so did the woman in the glass. He raised a hand, so did she. He pressed a hand to his cheek, watching as the gesture was mirrored.

The woman was older, in her forties perhaps, with thin, almond shaped eyes, and jet black hair still mussed from sleep. There were laugh lines leading the bottom of her nose down to his chin and crows feet by her eyes. She wasn't hideous by any measure but she was old and age had taken some of her natural beauty away.

One more he prodded at his own face, watching the woman’s hand move in tandem. The disconnect slowly melted away as his stomach turned cold with dread. The change; it hadn’t been some weird dream. This was really happening and the woman in the mirror was him!

He opened his mouth and an unfamiliar scream escaped as he stumbled back. This couldn’t be happening! The sound of pounding at the door made him jump, for a moment he was back in his dorm, being woken up by Jackson before the new reality slammed back into place. With trembling fingers he unlocked the door and came face to face with another Asian woman who looked worried.

“Ah! Huong, are you alright?” She panted, “I heard you scream.”

Derek’s mind was racing; on some instinctive level he realised this woman was speaking Vietnamese yet, he understood every word. And not even in the sense that he was translating it to English in his head he just…knew it. It was with horror that he realised he was thinking in that language too!

“I saw myself in the mirror.” He said quietly, bewildered to hear the breathy feminine voice saying words that should have been foreign to his ears. “I gave myself a fright.”

“That’s it?” The woman gaped, “For God’s sake I thought you were being murdered by a client or something.”

“Client?”

“Yeah, did you drink too much last night or something?” The woman narrowed her eyes. “Maybe you should take tonight off, if you can afford it.”

“Okay.” Derek just wanted this woman to leave so he could figure out what the fuck was happening.

Seemingly fed up with her neighbour's strange behaviour the woman gave him a little, almost sarcastic bow and headed back down the hall. The moment she disappeared Derek crept after her, reading the little notepaper sign slid into the nameplate; Quyen Lan. He rushed back to his own, confused to see his own familiar handwriting on a similar piece of notepaper; Huong Do.

That’s what that woman, Quyen, had called him wasn't it? But was that his first name or last name? Did the Vietnamese go last name first like some other Asian countries did? He didn't even know; Huong could have been his surname for all he knew. He went back inside and leaned against the door, breathing heavily.

“Calm down, Derek.” The words felt odd on his tongue in that foreign language, “Just breathe and you’ll sort this out.”

After taking a moment to calm his racing heart he began to look around the room for any clues as to how he got here and who Huong, who he, was. The room was tiny, boxes of clothes, some western some more Asian inspired, all stacked up together as there didn't seem to be much of a closet. A tiny kitchenette with about five feet of cheap linoleum was at the foot of the bed and contained a sink, a microwave and a tiny stovetop. The fridge was filled with items he didn’t recognise despite being able to read the labels.

He picked up a few and sniffed, making a face. Pungent was the word he would ascribe to them and he didn't have the faintest idea how to go about using any of it. Derek barely knew how to cook normal food, let alone what to use shrimp paste for.

Under the bed he found more boxes and finally found something useful. A cheap mobile phone and a password chief among them. The passport showed the same woman he’d seen in the mirror and according to the date of birth she was forty-two years old and originally from Hanoi.

He turned on the phone and after waiting a frustratingly long time for it to turn on, typed his name into google. No social media pages that he could find, at least none that matched the details he knew about but at least he now knew that Huong was his first name. He typed in the neighbours and learned that frustratingly, she had written it last name first. That meant her first name had to be Lan. So bloody confusing, couldn’t they just do it the western way? It made so much more sense, after all they were called first names and last names for a reason.

He hesitated for a moment before typing in his real name; shocked to find…nothing. No facebook, no Tinder, no Instagram…none of his accounts were there. Had Missy’s aunt somehow deleted them or something. He googled up Missy and Jackson, both still there so it was just him that was missing.

He sat back on the floor in a huff and squeezed his eyes closed, willing the universe to right itself but no such miracle happened. He opened the tiny window and was met with sights and smells unfamiliar to him. He was on the second floor of an apartment building that looked as though it had seen better days. There was a mishmash of cultures outside his window, he spied more Vietnamese words on the shopfront down the street, though most of the signage seemed to be Chinese, or Japanese, he’d never been able to tell the difference. He scanned the skyline and noticed a pretty blue glass skyscraper well in the distance. He recognised it; it was a major shopping mall in the central city.

He used it to try and orient himself and realised he was on the opposite side of town to the college and if the decor was anything to go by; he was in Chinatown. But how? How was this possible; magic? It had to be. Honestly, the realisation that magic was real was the last problem on his list right now. He had to figure out how to get back into his real body and that meant he needed to pay Missy’s aunt a little visit.

After a while of searching he managed to find his keys, wallet and some suitable clothes. For some reason most of the articles were so…skimpy. The sort of stuff to be worn by a woman half his current age. Was Huong going through some sort of midlife crisis or something? He threw on a pair of jeans and a high collar blouse, trying not to think about how tight the former were. He couldn't even fit his wallet in his pockets. The fabric was so tight, he had to grab a random black purse from where it was hanging on the bedroom window and use that instead.

He was just about to walk out when he realised his chest. He’d done what he was used to and simply buttoned up the shirt but as he looked down at the crisp white fabric he realised his breasts were clearly visible. His face burned with humiliation realising what he had to do.

He had no idea how to put on a bra, take them off, yes. Hell, he could even do that in the dark but it turned out doing those little hooks back up without looking was another level of difficulty entirely. He wobbled and stumbled, trying to keep his balance as he walked around with his elbows sticking out like a chicken. Eventually he gave up and did the hooks up on his belly before spinning it around and wiggling it up his body.

He was surprised to find how much he liked the feeling of wearing a bra. His breasts were heavy and once he had the strong underwire supporting them it immediately took a weight off his back he’d not even noticed. Plus the skin was so soft and having that gentle, silky underlining cupping them felt wonderful.

He stepped out and slowly made his way down the stairs and out to the street and was immediately hit with the distinctive smell of Chinatown. It was called Chinatown but really it was a mix of all kinds of Asian cultures; as he walked he passed Asian grocers, Sushi shops, and stalls selling red bean buns along with all the usual suspects such as laundromats and banks.

Half the signs were incomprehensible to him; nothing but squiggles and lines. Included the ones he knew had to be written in English. On the opposite side of the spectrum, anything written in Vietnamese he read with ease. He felt almost as though he were on an alien planet in an alien body. Even the way he walked had changed. His hips swayed gently to accommodate his wider hips and heavy ass and even with the bra he could feel the subtle movement of his breasts beneath the shirt.

The scent of spices was in the air and his stomach rumbled; how long had it been since he’d eaten? The last thing he remembered were the little hotdogs at Missy’s party but who knew how long ago that was, or if they even still counted. He looked around, hoping to pass a McDonalds or something on the way but had no such luck. He’d never liked foreign food; he rubbed his stomach with irritation as it complained again.

Just as he was reaching the edge of Chinatown a smell hit his nose that immediately made his mouth water. Like bread but different, he followed his nose to a tiny little corner shop covered in Vietnamese signs; banh mi. The word rolled off his tongue easily and almost as if in a trance he found himself buying one. The woman behind the little desk handed him a folded bread roll filled with shrimp and vegetables. It was the sort of thing he would have baulked at yesterday but he was hungry and…it did smell nice.

He continued his walk, munching on the banh mi and finding it surprisingly delicious. The little shrimp crunched and ideally he wondered if he could use that paste in his fridge to make something that tasted similar.

He finally reached the edge of  Chinatown and crossed under the large red gate that marked it and breathed a sigh of relief. The change was instant and he was surrounded by western buildings, dress and signs. Though that last part actually provided more of a problem. He’d never been to this part of the city before and now that he could no longer read English they were about as useful as sand in the desert.

That bitch may have taken his English skills but not his wits; something he vowed to make her regret. The taxi’s were all still easy to find lined up at their bay and he slipped inside with a smile which dropped as soon as the cabbie turned and said something he couldn’t understand. He looked down at the cracked screen of his ‘new’ phone; he had no idea what the address of Missy’s aunt’s house was and without the original messages he had no way of finding out.

“Could you take me to Windbourne College?” He asked, the driver looked at him confused and said something back in English he didn't quite get. Something about a stadium? no , understand? Did he say ‘understand?”

“Windbourne. College.” Derek forced himself to say it as slowly and clearly as possible yet his accent still made the words sound strange, at least to his ears compared to the voice he was used to.

The cabbie said a few more words but then, thankfully, started driving. Derek sank back into the cool leather seat and watched the world going past, grateful when the surroundings started to look familiar. When they pulled up to his college the cabbie tapped the metre and his heart stuttered; that fare was…a lot more than he was expecting. Still, nothing in the grand scheme of things.

He opened his wallet and froze, a single, crumpled twenty dollar bill stared back. Not even half the fare. Awkwardly he dug around, looking for hidden compartments and credit cards but there was nothing. Surely this wasn’t all he had, it just couldn’t be!

The cabbie, obviously noticing his lack of funds started yelling, pointing at the door. Derek didn't need to know what he was saying to know they were threats and he still understood the word ‘police’ when it was shouted with such vigour. He left the twenty and darted out of the car, running into the college grounds and away from the cabbie as fast as he could.

The grounds were thankfully, fairly empty but those people he did pass looked at him oddly. It didn’t matter, he just had to find Missy and somehow explain what was going on. He knew the way to the girls dorm easily enough and fortunately, there was a listing with all the names and assigned rooms. It took him a painfully long time to find Missy’s name amongst the sea of others, slowly sounding out each one of the now alien sounding names on his tongue.

By the time he reached her room he was thoroughly over this day. The sooner this got fixed the better. He knocked, pounding hard when Missy didn’t answer. Eventually the door cracked open and a very tired, very hungover Missy appeared and his heart leapt. He’d never been so happy to see her.

“Missy, you have to help me, you’re psychotic aunt turned me into some sort of middle aged Vietnamese woman and now I can’t turn back!”

“What?”

Missy rubbed at her eyes and mumbled some more words he didn't understand. Derek bit his cheek and focused, what were the words in English? He spoke the language and only that language for most of his life, why was it so hard to think of it now that he desperately needed it?

“Missy…Vietnamese….change aunty.”

“Change aunty?” She tilted her head then suddenly her eyes widened in understanding and she rapidly spoke, far too fast for him to follow but Derek smiled and nodded, convinced she must have understood. She ducked inside and stepped out with a bundle of clothes and handed them to him, much to his confusion.

“What?” He asked.

“Change aunty.” She said slowly, “You clean.”

Missy…thought he was a cleaner?!

“No, no! Change uh…party uhhhhh…mean lady?”

Dammit! Why couldn’t he think of more words, if he could just explain then everything would be fine. Missy pouted, looking irritated as she took her clothes back. Looking down her nose at Derek she huffed and shut the door. He curled his hands into fists; at least now he knew how to call her a bitch in English again.

Looking for another chapter of this story? Head over to the Directory where all other links are available! Or download the PDF for the full story.