Thangaiku Theriyaamal Amma Magalai Oothen
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Night Of The Goddamn Whatever-It-Is free porn video
"So when exactly does this experiment start?"
"MAYBE IT'S ALREADY STARTED. MAYBE IT WILL NEVERE START. I'M AFRAIND THAT
TIME AS YOU UNDERSTAND IT DOESN'T HAVE MUCH MEANING HERE..."
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NiGHT oF THE GoDDAMN WHATEVER iT iS
by LAiKA PUPKiN0
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She knew she shouldn't change from first to third person in the middle of
a sentence, but what else could I do? This is something that I hardly
dare suppose," this person thought as the waves of disorientation washed
over me.... Some people some blues. Experimental Katra Displacement
Formula #27 or so they called it was like a hall of mirrors arrayed in
blacklit zero gravity, panning explosively outward in any direction I
looked. So they would just have to excuse these inconsistancies in my
report..... should she ever reach the present to write it. These vials of
bubbles are inviolable...
This was the time. And this was the record of the time. Microphones,
camera over there on its tripod, and who tha hell knows what they need
that oscilloscope for.... In other words with that bitter no-color
nostrum from the little paper cup ingested---chin-chin, here goes nothin'
and down the old hatch---it is/was/will be just a few seconds 'til that
the long echo "HOW ARE YOU FEELINGGG-G-G?" tweaks the universe, viewpoint
perception causality the whole enchilada. Rewriting my past. But in the
world where I never was him, then I never took place in the experiment
and turned into me. Thus begins the looping. Stop time/stop it!
I grow up a farm girl, looks like Nebraska or some place. Hauling heavy
buckets of well water. Somebody whittling. Do people really live like
this or am I remember The Waltons? I grow up my male self, the "official
version", including my unheard of scolarship to the Cordon Bleau and
subsequent getting kicked out for starting a food fight, only now it is
fading into some boy I'm imagining, him doing stuff so dumb, God I can't
believe that stuff is important to him. Stuff. But suddenly without words
for it, stuff is all just stuff. Some other life now. Much much younger.
Staring uncomprehendingly at a screen. Colors. Peals of canned laughter
over a snidely cartoon voice, "STUFF ME NO STUFF, CHUMLEY!" And it would
only get worse...
AUTHOR NEEDED FOR PHYSICS EXPERIMENT, reads the small ad down in the
corner of the t.g. fiction site, right below the one for BI-CURIOUS
GEORGE t-shirts; intriguingly terse & cryptic, that block of small text
dangling there between two rows of $$$$$$$$$ dollar signs, and with my
situation being what it was, recently laid off at the umonium mine, and
having made a few bucks before drinking strange brews offered up by dour
veiny-foreheaded android types in labcoats, with no ill effects.....
Christ, they must've really seen her coming!
And so off to that strip mall, park, a nondiscript little office, rented
it looked like by the hour, the sign on the door just a sheet of paper
taped there reading WTF LABORATORIES.
"YOU WRITE BOTH 'TRANSGENDER' AND EXPERIMENTAL FICTION?!" -They got very
excited when I mention this, the other applicants all sent packing. Forms
to peruse.
"This is a lot of small print here..."
NEVER MIND ALL THAT. THE IMPORTANT THING FROM YOUR PERSPECTIVE IS THAT
YOU MIGHT WELL CHANGE GENDERS. AT LEAST FROM YOUR ONLINE INTERVIEW YOU,
AHHHHH....... IN-DI-CATED HAVING DESIRES ALONG THOSE LINES...
"Would I be me? I mean will I look like this only female? Or..."
I THINK THE ONE THING WE CAN SAFELY SAY IS THAT IF IT DOES HAPPEN YOU
WON'T BE "YOU". IN THIS FLESH. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO THE BODY YOU HAVE NOW
WOULD BE PURELY COINCIDENTAL. YOU COULD BE YOUNG AND QUITE ATTRACTIVE.
Or...... I'LL ADMIT IT'S A BIT OF A GAMBLE ON YOUR PART.
"Well I do need the..... Tell you what. Throw in that nice stapler there
and you've got a deal!"
The tall one smiles. AGREED. IT LOOKS LIKE YOU'RE OUR GUINEA PIG, MR.
PRIMA.
"Hey, watch that 'Guinea' stuff!"
ROLL UP YOUR SLEEVE they said.
"But I thought I DRANK this drug," I said, and they smile knowingly.
THAT WAS LAST TIME...
"I've been here before?"
HUSH MY DEAR, DON'T GO GETTING THEOSOPHICAL ON US, they told her, and
then things get all kinds of weird. Every time she thinks things are
stabilizing there I go again. The little side room, appointed, sit
anywhere, the couch if you like. That big wall mirror, it's pretty
obvious they're behind there. The plastic wheels atop the tape recorder
spinning, casting a random highlight here/there across the wall, I hope
I'm talking, "Testing... Testing...", because I do so want to be useful
to humankind's search for knowledge. Gosh that's a nice stapler...
I don't believe 'Experimental Fiction' means what they think it does, but
they were undeterred. "Uniquely situated" was how they phased it, her
talent for imagining other lives; But nothing had prepared you for this,
and even in my transformation stories I sometimes had to fight for every
inch of a notion that I could inhabit this body, a real leap of faith, I
mean am I for real transgendered? Did she feel like a woman or like
someone who felt that I felt like I was a woman? Without a true basis of
comparison who really knew how real this transgender stuff was, how much
of it wishful thinking, some imaginary ideal, something perhaps NOT THIS
SELF but not necessarily what it's really like to be a girl?
Was it the chicken or the egg, some unseen mover's excuse for banging out
some sophomoric dada on a badly tuned banjo of a world, or finally
through the Gumby Barrier into a once past renewal; Only this time
waylaid into vistas of inwardly folding fractal deleriums, even as the
flood of new sensations amazes her, twin tracks stuttering together
faster than an automatic card shuffler. Somewhere an intercom buzzes.
Yes? "Call Decker and have him check my blink rate..."
My feet. How could anyone walk on such small feet? Only even as I think
this-
THE MOST LIKELY SCENARIO, they said, is that she would experience being a
girl briefly, which if nothing else would give some great insights for
her stories. Far less likely was this body-switch lottery, that he would
land right back here a new woman. Less likely still was never returning
to this space again, getting stuck "out of phase"-
"Stuck?! What do you mean 'Get stuck'?!!!"
I PROBABLY SHOULDN'T HAVE SAID ANYTHING. I MEAN IT'S ONLY HYPOTHETICAL,
AND PROBABLY AS UNFOUNDED AS DINNEHAN'S WORMHOLE/REINCARNATION THEORY.
BECAUSE IF ANYTHING ALONG THOSE LINES DOES START TO HAPPEN YOU'LL MORE
THAN LIKELY JUST GET SPIT OUT AGAIN," they told her. It was that old joke
that went MALKOVICH MALKOVICH MALKOVICH and then falling plop into a
field by some nowhere zen New Jersey turnpike or wherever.
I look around. This ad hoc office. Skeptical. "Old joke maybe when you've
got nothing at stake. So when you say 'more than likely' ...... Exactly
how likely is more than likely. I mean percentage wise. Your best
estimate..."
"LOOK, WE HAVE SOME COLORING BOOKS. AND LOTS OF CRAYONS. WOULD YOU LIKE
TO COLOR IN THE COLORING BOOKS, VERONICA?"
"Wow, I nebber SAW some of dose color before! Otay!"
"GOOD! GO COLOR OVER THERE AT THE TABLE, PRINCESS."
"Before I sign these liability release waivers, I should probably have
someone look at them," she giggled adorably as she skipped across the
room. I stopped, scratched my stubbly chin, thinking: "That's odd, I
usually don't turn into a princess until about the third drink."
Thinking: "Gotta shave again dammit! I hate it. That daily reminder,
always there, I..."
Thinking: "This sensation of falling is one of the drug's less pleasant
side effects!"
He never saw the trap door.
Now glowing? Like that melty moonsong I'M BEGINNING TO BE THE LIGHT? No.
More like that old sawhorse I AM ME AS YOU ARE HE AND THEY ARE WE AND WE
ARE ALL TOGETHER; laudably ecumenical perhaps, transmelding people into
undifferentiated STUFF; But try that at twenty flips a second! Pouring
into one flesh and then ejected, into another! Terrified??! I will
probably pee myself if my pubic bits ever settle into one or the other,
with chest cycling through valence states of cup size---A, B, C, D, OMG!-
--like that loopy neon sign atop the Breast Expansion Archive building.
It was later rumored however that the drugs real effect was to induce
multiple personalities accompanied by intense hallucinations...
So I should have heeded what had obviously been my Angel. That old bum
confronting me yesterday, "ARE YOU RONNIE PRIMA?" his grimy talon
clutching my arm---"H-how did you know my name?"---the raspy voice and
his face all akimbo, "NEVER MIND THAT. LISTEN UP, DUMMY!" Hoary yellowed
admunitions about forces best not tampered with by mortals!
Houri? ...Whorey??? So of course she broke free and fled, red heels
clacking over East End cobblestones
"N-no puh-puh-place like home," the subject wimpers; voice stuttering
from this reality's flipbook multiverse leaves no glot clom fliday our
unfortunate wondering was she a guinea who dreamt that she was a pig, or
a pig bedreaming guineadom?" you reflect as you gaze vertiginous reeling
into the evershifting mindmaze mirror. And all for $95, a cookie a glass
of orange juice and a little 'I GAVE MY ALL FOR SCIENCE' sticker. That's
not the lights that are dimming. Now you've done and gone it...
Underwater without breathing apparatus like this, you would think it
would be trouble, but you don't seem to need to breath. Oh I get it, you
get. It's because I'm hooked up to this cord thing. A steady booming, a
giant heart someplace. And okay so we follow the signs, THIS WAY TO THE
EGRESS, until wow it's a tight squeeze thru here; Hey, what th-
*POP!!!*
Someone hefting me up, everything a blur, lights blazing everywhere, I
seem to be forgetting how to think, memories whisped off into the violet
lacuna, and how did people all get so
bBIGgg???
Last thing me know damb cheeky doctor I believe it is hauls off and slaps
I onna poop butt. The Universe becomes my screaming. Air! Sweet Life! And
something wonderful called Mommy that me am buying unseen. Somewhere some
voice somewhere, above I maybe baby, going "CONGRATULATIONS MRS. PRIMA,
IT'S-"
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