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Echoside
By Uriel Storm
[email protected]
Copyright 2004 March 14 Sunday 1731h
It was a cold and blustery Wednesday afternoon and Andrew McClellan was
awfully bored of work already. Though he'd only been in the shop for a
little over an hour, he felt his will to continue slipping away at a
dramatic pace. What he'd prefer to be doing is sitting at home watching
the boob tube, or curled up in his bed with a good book. What he had
instead was a boring job at one of the town's numerous Antique shops.
Though he'd graduated high school only the previous summer, he felt
like it had been years since last he trod the halls of Firefly Valley
HS. He really missed it, in a sad, dystopian kind of way. Though all
through high school, he'd vowed never to step back into the halls of
Academe once he walked the stage, he found himself wondering more and
more lately what it would be like back in school. The only problem was,
of course, that he had quite the reputation for using girls and
throwing them away afterwards. But, as he usually thought, fuck 'em if
they can't take a joke. He'd even said that when Melissa Whatshername
had come to him because she'd been pregnant. What business of that was
his? She should've been on the pill or something. Just because he got
his nut was no reason for her to trip out like that. She was
responsible, too. It was just one fuck, after all.
Andy's reverie was interrupted when the bell over the front door
chimed, alerting him to the fact that someone had entered. Peering over
the top of his favorite comic, he spied an aged man with stooped
shoulders and an awkward gait straining under the weight of a large,
flat package.
"Need any help, sir?" Andy asked, without the slightest intention of
actually helping the man.
"No, son, I can manage." The old timer smiled a fairly vacuous grin in
Andy's direction.
The man finally made it to the counter and hefted his burden onto the
expansive countertop. What he had brought in for appraisal was a large
mirror, that in and of itself was nothing to Andy, he knew that mirrors
were cheap and readily available, even to the most discriminating of
antique collectors. What was odd about this mirror, Andy readily
noticed, was that instead of silver paint-backed glass, the reflective
surface appeared to be highly polished metal; silver perhaps, or steel.
"Wow," Andy whispered, "what have we here?"
"Don't know, youngster, I found this in my attic while I was cleaning
it out. I don't remember having ever owned a mirror like this, but, at
my age, you tend to forget small details like things you've purchased,
your mother's maiden name, or your address?" The old man grinned, his
toothy grin at Andy's display of amazement at the depth of his
senility.
"Just kidding, kid."
"Uh, huh."
Andy looked it over and turned on the computer next to the cash
register. After puttering around a while, he found what may have been a
matching description and entry.
"Look, I can't give you a precise price quote now, but if you leave the
mirror behind, I'll have Mr. Sales, the owner, take a look, then he can
give you a call, alright?"
The old man grimaced, but nodded, and gave Andy his name, telephone
number, and address. After the old geezer left, Andy looked long and
hard at the mirror and noted that it needed to be cleaned a great deal
before a clear reflection could be seen. He leaned it up against the
wall and went into the back to gather up some delicate cleaning
supplies.
After a few hours of spraying and wiping, and brushing dust and
polishing, his reflection finally shone through in the mirror. After a
few hours more, the frame was also clean enough to make out some of the
finer details worked into the metal: specifically, there were words
engraved into the framework. Andy squinted long and hard at them before
they finally started to make sense to him.
"'Let he who gazes into me see The Echoes of Reality ? The Echoside'?
Huh? That makes no sense at all!" Andy smirked and realized that some
crazy person had probably scrawled this into the frame. Glancing down,
he noticed something that both frightened and confused him, so badly so
that he dropped the mirror on the floor and backed up against the shop
wall in shock.
The mirror's highly polished surface had revealed the reflection of an
unfamiliar face ? that of a young woman with a startled expression on
her face. Andy took a few minutes to calm himself and craned his neck
to look at the mirror again, sighing in relief that it reflected his
own reflection, somewhat flushed, but none-the-worse for wear. He
propped the mirror back up against the wall and covered it with a
canvas cloth, deciding that he'd had enough for today. Time to clock
out, he thought wearily. After shutting the computer down and locking
the store, he clocked out and went out the back, locking the back door
and pocketing the key.
It was then that he heard the voice from inside the store, a woman's
voice, calling out to someone. Confused, he fished for the key, and
unlocked the door and went inside. The woman's voice was louder now,
and clearer, calling out to someone, but Andy couldn't locate its
source. After a minute's search, he realized with horror that the voice
was coming from behind the canvas drop cloth covering the mirror.
"What the fuck?" he asked to the air.
After a moment's indecision, he swept aside the drop cloth and
confronted the image of the woman from the mirror again.
"Who are you?" he asked, thinking himself crazy for talking to a
mirror.
"My name is Andy." Said the 'reflection'.
"What?" He asked stupidly, as the reflection reached out of the mirror
at him and took hold of his clothing.
"STOP IT PLEASE!" He screamed as the young woman began to draw him down
toward her, toward the mirror, Toward Echoside.
There was a buzzing in Andy's ears, and his whole body felt numb and
tingling, as though he was paralyzed. He couldn't seem to open his
eyelids and the world felt tilted on its axis. After a few moments, he
realized that he was lying on his side in the shop, and when he could
finally open his eyes, he found himself gazing at the ceiling of the
shop in wonder. Then his nerves began firing off their signals, and he
realized that he could move his hands and feet again.
He finally sat up and rubbed his head, rubbing at a sore spot that made
him think that he must've tripped and hit his head and dreamed the
whole scenario. But what scenario? He could not quite seem to recall
what had happened to him, and his memory was sort of fuzzy, as though
clogged with cobwebs. He struggled to his feet and made his way through
the dark shop to the street and towards home.
The warmth of the sun shining woke him gradually, as did the feeling of
pressure in his bladder, warning him that he had to pee. Getting up was
more difficult than normal, and he realized that he couldn't remember
walking home the previous evening. Hurrying to the bathroom, he dropped
his pajama bottoms and reached for his penis, so that he could properly
aim. That's when the whole world seemed to come sharply into focus for
him ? He didn't have a penis! Dig for it though he might, he could not
find that bit of flesh upon which he'd relied to urinate since life
began. The shock caused him to sit down hard, and, there being nothing
behind him to catch his fall, he rapped his behind on the floor. The
sudden pain of falling on the floor caused his bladder control to let
go, and he felt himself ? well, he thought, it's not really me, is it?
? urinate on the floor. Andy looked down, in a surreal daze to watch
this and realized that he had a pair of breasts blocking his view.
As if this wasn't bad enough, he heard his mother coming up the stairs,
calling after him, concern in her voice. "Andy, are you alright, baby?"
Thinking quickly, he shouted: "Fine Mom, I just slipped getting into
the shower!"
The voice which issued forth from his vocal cords was not his own.
Instead of his own voice, Andy heard the voice of the woman from the
mirror from his throat. At that moment, his mind, still reeling from
the shock of the whole situation, grasped at the thinnest of straws. He
must've somehow changed places with the woman in the mirror? Was she
he, as he was she? Somewhere, was there a girl named Andy McClellan
freaking out because she woke up with a penis?
"Honey, are you sure you're okay?" Mom was right outside the door now.
Thinking quickly, he locked it. "Yeah, Mom, I'm fine, just, uh, rattled
a little, I'll be okay."
Andy's mother didn't sound convinced, and she tried to turn the
doorknob. "Andy, you sound a little strange. Are you coming down with a
cold?"
Jeez, parents can be stupid, Andy thought, turning on the shower.
"Sorry, Mom, I can't hear you over the water!"
He grabbed a hand mirror off the vanity to confirm his suspicions. Once
in the shower, he inspected himself with the mirror and was horrified
to see that his suspicions were correct: Instead of a dick, he now had
a very hairy pussy. No wonder chicks trim these things, He thought,
giggling somewhat maniacally to himself. He couldn't hear his mother
anymore, so he assumed that she had retreated back downstairs. He held
the mirror at face level and realized that, as a female, he didn't look
different from himself very much at all. The only difference between
his male and female selves was a lack of beard (he tended to grow one
pretty quickly, and usually sported a long, goat-like one, the breasts,
and the vagina. He still had his muscle tone and tattoos, which were
beginning to cover most of his (her) upper arms and back.
Well, better to figure out what had happened than to sit here with a
thumb up his (her) ass. Andy finished his shower, even washing his
hair, which was as short as he normally kept it, and performing the
other cleaning rituals that went along with a shower. Pausing only when
he got to his crotch, cleaning it gingerly, as though he didn't want to
bruise it, and grimacing when he washed under his breasts. Once he was
through, it took him a few minutes to figure out how to tie a towel
around his torso as opposed to around his waist, as he normally did it.
He darted into his room, thanking God that his parents weren't waiting
for him to come out of the bathroom. Once inside, he locked the door
and dug around until he found some clean clothes buried in the clutter
of the dirty and clean on the floor of his room. It was odd to feel his
boxers with nothing filling out the front. Once he had his clothes on,
there was nothing overt to suggest that there was anything amiss. He
even wore an overlarge flannel shirt to hide his boobs.
He ran downstairs and out the front door before his parents could say
anything to him. He had to get to the shop before Mr. Sales got there.
Then he could figure out how to reverse this terrifying change. He got
to the shop a good hour before opening, but noticed that Mr. Sales' car
was in its usual parking spot. He ran inside the back door and saw that
the mirror wasn't there anymore. Mr. Sales looked up in consternation.
"Andy? What are you doing here so early?"
Andy looked about with considerable alarm. "The mirror, what happened
to it?"
Mr. Sales smirked, "That old thing? I gave it back to the man who
brought it in. It was worthless junk!"
Andy nearly fainted in panic. He had to go to this guy's house, get
that mirror back. "What about his address and phone number? It was
written on a piece of paper over here!"
Andy looked around until he found the man's business card. After
reading it, he sat down and started crying loud, blustery sobs. The
business card didn't have the man's name on it, or phone number, or
anything relating to the man's identity. All it had on it was one line,
just 8 words that chilled Andy to the bone:
"Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke."
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