Rose in Bloom
Commissioned by danio13
Bob Neuhart stared at the loading screen of Grand Cross Adventure, eagerly awaiting to log on, collect his daily rewards and talk to his new online friend, lonelytwister.
He waited impatiently for the game’s fanfare to stop playing, gritting his teeth as it looped yet again. His computer was so old. And shopping for technology in his backwater town of Chewatanoa was an impossible task.
About two centuries ago, their ancestors had invaded and kicked the natives off the land, settling and developing a town built upon bloodshed and corpses. The intensely puritanical, old-fashioned, and traditional town had refused to evolve with the times or sensibilities of the modern day. Bob could swear they would still be riding in horse-drawn wagons if the world still manufactured buggy whips.
Finally, the damn computer game allowed him to log on. He immediately clicked through the pop up screens and eagerly looked for lonelytwister.
She was online!
“Hey :)” he initiated the conversation.
“Hey, want to quest?”
“Yea ok. Happy to see you”
“Yea, should be fun. Hey, let’s do this Cairngorgon quest. I still need the mount.”
Bob waited impatiently once again for another loading screen to go away. He’d been working up the courage to confess something to lonelytwister for a while now. She, or at least, he thought that person was a she, had been remarkably supportive about listening to his real life woes.
Soon, he saw lonelytwister’s in-game witch character, dressed in a floppy black hat and revealing dress with a jagged cut on the bottom. Such were the games these days… not that Bob minded. He played one such female character as well. But his fascination with these sexy, powerful models was far different than most other players’.
The duo crawled through the dungeon’s depths as Bob, or SarinaNewhart as he was known in game, engaged approaching monsters head on while lonelytwister’s fire magicks incinerated the foul beasts.
“Hey can I talk to you lonelytwister? This is serious” he entered, as his character suffered a crushing blow. Her seasonal bikini armor, endowed with high stats, still wasn’t enough to shrug off this endgame dungeon’s dangers.
“Talk later!” she replied, as she weaved and dodged oncoming acid spit. “Are you going to draw aggro or what!?”
Bob’s fingers flew dexterously along the keys, but SarinaNewhart was just not up to the task. He watched helplessly as all of his skills greyed out. Overwhelmed by the hordes of enemies, Sarina succumbed to the enemy. And without Sarina, lonelytwister fell soon after.
“Sigh. Okay, what’s up? Looks like you won’t be much use for now ;)”
The two ingame characters wandered around the grassy countryside, chasing away little kobolds and gathering ingredients to cook.
“Can I ask something personal?” Bob typed into chat.
“Whoa. You never punctuate. This is serious.”
“I’m not asking to be a perv. Are you a girl? For real?”
“I’m a guy. But I… I live in a small town. Really old-fashioned. Religious. All the boys go hunting for sport or game. I hate it. I can’t stand it.”
“I just want to be like my character. Actually like them. Like… female parts. I hate looking at myself. I’d rather stay at home, wear a dress, and bake bread. I hate hunting. I don’t want to associate with the other boys here.”
“Have you looked around for options? Some sort of support? Operation?”
“No way. It’s impossible here. My parents would have me killed, if the minister didn’t accidentally do it first. Probably call me a spawn of the devil. Try to save me.”
“You told me you lived in Mesapeake County right?”
“Yeah. Sorry to unload all this on you. I wish I could be more like you, that’s all. You’re always so supportive of me.”
Bob’s hands were trembling. He hadn’t meant to reveal this much, but once the floodgates had opened, he couldn’t stop his emotions from pouring out. He tried to dial back his deepest confession as his eyes grew slightly red and puffy. He sniffled.
“Um. Yeah, sorry. This is awkward. I didn’t mean to put this burden on you. Let’s find a party and beat this Cairngorgon ok. I’ll focus”
“If you’re willing to come meet me, I can help you.”
“Yes. I don’t live that far from Mesapeake county. Do you trust me?”
“Yes! But… what can you do to help me?”
“Just come see me. But my services are not cheap. I’ll send you my address.”
He received a private message in his inbox.
“Bob! Your brother is back! Now get off that infernal machine and come down for dinner! And go out to the general store and get more ammunition for your brother! And cigars too! Make yourself useful!” He heard his father yell.
They’d been trying to get him interested in these horrible hobbies by proxy and exposure. Bob sighed.
Bob walked a mile to the store, enduring the gazes of all the residents of Chewatanoa. Everyone knew he was the town outcast, keeping him at arm’s length, treating him as some sort of leper. He kept his head down and made the trip as fast as he could.
He could hear the prayer and worship coming from an evening mass at the local church, thanking the lord that they would be the ones to inherit the earth as the master race. All foul beasts and sinners would be eradicated with furious vengeance. He knew the verses by memory and hated every minute of it, feeling like he was condemning himself. Did they consider him one of the sinners?
Nobody who grew up in Chewatanoa left it. The community was incredibly insular, and attempts to find Bob a girlfriend had failed miserably. Nobody was interested in marrying someone who was so socially awkward, a total outcast.
Bob walked even faster along the dusty road, passing wooden house after wooden house. When he arrived at the general store, he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He wiped his slick forehead and swept his matted hair back.
The little bell dinged. Roger, the mustached, grizzly veteran with a leathery face, barely acknowledged Bob as he sat behind the glass counter, reading the town paper.
“Two boxes of shotgun shells.” Bob pointed at the case. “And a box of cigars.”
“And anything for yourself, boy?” Roger, just like all the others, tried to get him to acclimate to society in the way they deemed proper. He went to gather the box of thick cigars from one of the store’s dusty shelves.
Bob looked at the animal hide trophies along the wall. Some seal skins, some eerily large, ominous fangs that looked somehow human yet also canine, clacking darkly when the wind blew on it… there was just something so unnatural about it. Something wrong.
Bob choked down a gag. “No, nothing for me.”
Roger snorted. He gathered up Bob’s order, took the money, snorted, and spit.
Bob exited the store hastily and made his way back home. He endured the same stares on the way back. Some of the boys had gathered in the street to play catch. They whooped and hollered as he walked past, startling Bob by miming a pitch at him. Bob flinched, his box of ammunition sliding loose, sending shells scattering over the dusty road. They laughed.
“What you gonna do with those, huh?” they jeered.
Bob suffered inwardly as he gathered those hateful shells. He didn’t want to do this anymore.
He would go see lonelytwister.
Bob rushed back inside the house and made his way straight to his room. He needed to copy down directions to lonelytwister’s address if this plan was to work. He didn’t want to spend even a minute longer than necessary in this forsaken place!
“Bob, that you? Where’re my cigars?”
“One moment, dad!” he yelled, scribbling down directions onto a pad of paper.
“The hell you doing? That boy just ain’t right,” his father muttered.
Bob shoved his little sheet of paper into his jeans pocket, slid the cigars he’d purchased underneath his bed, and went out to the family area. His mother was setting the dining table in the middle of their modest home. Richard had his shotgun laid out across it, his feet kicked up. Black, greasy linen rested on the table, and the smell of gun oil filled the room.
His mother slapped Richard’s legs, instructing him to take them off the table like she always did. He looked at their father, who was sitting in a rocking chair, nursing a shot of whiskey. They grinned at each other.
“Richard, here you go.” Bob presented him the shells.
“And my cigars, boy?”
“Sorry Dad… I forgot them.”
“You what!? It was a simple task! God damn, boy…”
“I know Dad! I’m sorry! Can I get the keys to the car? Roger is about to close up shop. I’ll be right back, I swear!”
“Hurry up and git.” He threw the keys to Bob.
“Sorry Dad! I’ll be right back!” Bob lied.
He made a quick stop at his room, grabbed all the cash he had saved up from working at the grocery store this summer, got into the car, and just started driving.
Cirrane was a whole day’s drive from Chewatanoa. Bob didn’t stop for any breaks, driving from sundown to sunrise. His eyes were bleary, his mind foggy, but all he had to do was focus on his intense desire to meet lonelytwister, and his resolve would swell anew.
Finally, he arrived at the appointed location at noon, well off the paved road. His father’s pick up truck was covered in a thick layer of dirt. He could smell the burning rubber of the large, thick tires as well as the unpleasant stench of engine oil. It was a chilly day despite the sun sitting high and bright in the cloudless sky. He rubbed his eyes to try and clear his blurry vision.
Could this really be lonelytwister’s house? It didn’t even look like it had a generator or any electric lines! How could she play Grand Cross Adventure in such a primitive habitat?
He walked up to the woefully small wood cabin and knocked on the front door, fearing the worst.
“Come in,” a sultry voice rang out. “It’s not locked.”
Bob took a deep breath, turned the doorknob, and pulled. A wave of warm air wafted out and enveloped him.
He couldn’t believe his eyes.
The inside of the cabin was huge! And modern!
The interior was a large, open space. An enormous refrigerator, beautiful polished marble countertops, and what Bob assumed was a dishwasher (he’d never seen one) were flush against the right wall.
Behind that was a large staircase that led up to the second floor. Second floor!?
Bob took a step back from the door and peered carefully at the outside of the cabin once again. How on earth was there a second floor inside, and not outside? He mentally mapped the beautiful countertop and chrome refrigerator against the dimensions of the outer wall. Impossible. No way it would fit.
Had he been awake too long? Was he hallucinating? Was he dead!?
“Are you just gonna stand out there, or are you gonna come in? You’re letting the heat out!” that sultry voice lectured.
“Uh… coming…” Bob stammered, at a total loss for words. He shook his head once more, squeezing his eyelids shut and feeling the pressure of his overworked eyes, and stepped inside.
He hadn’t finished the scan of the interior. To the left of that mysterious staircase was a large, widescreen TV hanging on the wall. A long, sleek, black leather sofa occupied the center of the room. He could see the back of a girl’s head, presumably lonelytwister’s, her dark purple hair coming down to her neck.
“Yaaaaa!” she screamed as she flung the controller along with her attack, dealing a killing blow to her virtual opponent. Their character flew off the stage and exploded in a shower of stars.
“KO!” the speaker system announced loudly.
lonelytwister jumped off the sofa, dressed only in a purple bathrobe. She was beautiful. Her large, perky breasts peeked out from the top of the bathrobe. Her deep, sparkling, violet irises matched her hair.
He had to be dreaming.
For the first time, the mysterious girl in the mysterious cabin turned to look at Bob.
“SarinaNewhart?” she inquired.
“Oh my god! It is you, lonelytwister!”
“You can call me Pulsa,” she dismissively waved off her online alias.
“Nice to meet you, Bob. Now, I said I could help you with your little… ahem, problem.”
“Yes. You said you charge a lot—I brought everything I have,” he brought out his little wooden box where he kept all of his cash, totalling a few hundred dollars. “I don’t know if it’s enough. But I’ll do anything, anything, if you really can help me! Just tell me how much. I’ll… I’ll find a way. Anything not to be in Chewatanoa anymore.”
Pulsa placed a finger on her cheek cutely and squinted one eye, deep in thought. She came to a decision.
“For you, Sarina… big discount. You’ll just owe me a favor,” she said ominously.
“Okay… what favor?” The implication of Pulsa demanding something horrible was not lost on him. Would she want his soul?
“Help me beat the Cairngorgon. For real,” she waved her hands around as if conjuring a spell just like lonelytwister. “And I’ll call on you for any other end game content and grind.”
And now, Bob was wondering if Pulsa could really do anything for him. Is that really all she would charge?
“Of course! Of course I can do that! But I gotta ask, lonelytwis—I mean, Pulsa… what exactly can you do for me?”
Pulsa waved to her right, Bob’s left, to the rest of the spacious living area. He hadn’t seen this part yet, the front door blocking the view.
There was a bar stool and a high table with a laptop resting on it. In front of it, a raised, black metal panel.
“You’re a girl,” she pointed to herself, “trapped inside of a boy’s body, aren’t you?” She pointed at him.
Bob gasped. He had never heard his problem described so succinctly and accurately.
“I can make you a girl, like you’ve always wanted. Do you believe me?” Pulsa raised her palms up and out.
“I… um… I want to?”
“Well, you’ve got nothing to lose. Stand over there.”
Bob shuffled cautiously onto the mysterious raised panel. Was this going to hurt?
“It won’t hurt,” Pulsa said, as if reading his mind. She took a seat at the bar stool and cracked her knuckles. Then, she began to type.
“What are you doing?” Bob asked.
“Cyber magic,” Pulsa said, rolling her eyes as if it were obvious.
A series of incorporeal, glowing red zeroes and ones flowed out of Pulsa’s laptop as she clacked furiously at the keyboard. They began to swirl around Bob’s nervous, trembling form.
“Say when,” Pulsa said.
“What do you mean…”
Bob never got to finish that sentence. His entire body seized up, growing stiff as those binary numbers encircled and enveloped him, their hue growing brighter. He was filled with a warm, comforting glow.
His brown buzz cut hair began to grow out, changing color at the root into a lustrous, deep red. The strands began to grow out rapidly, his scalp being massaged by Pulsa’s digital metamorphosis magic. They flowed out, down past his neck, past his shoulders, ending only when those new, wavy tresses reached past his butt.
He lost some height too, mostly in his torso. The shape of his face became positively cute, his overbearing proboscis flattening out into an endearing button nose. His wide-set eyes grew larger, irises turning a flaming orange, reflective and sparkling like the sun shining down on clear, tranquil ocean waves.
But Pulsa wasn’t done yet.
He, or perhaps she, could feel the warmth of those runic zeroes and ones trickle down her face, leaving her flushed cheeks and coursing down her new body.
They traveled down her neck, lengthening it elegantly, giving it a nice, even tan. Then the numbers flowed over her shoulders, making her skin look completely smooth and supple. Surfing down her arms, they applied the same, even skin tone to her sun-denied skin to complement her face. Their glowing magic parsed all the way down to her fingertips, giving a master manicure to her new long, delicate, polished nails.
The extra flab melted away from her body, all of her subtle, feminine muscles now visible under her taut skin. Pulsa’s magic reversed course and traveled back to her shoulders, jumping down to her waist, cinching it tightly. Her abdominal muscles came into view as she shivered from the incredible, warm sensation of being transformed.
All of her old, shameful body hair fell away from her new torso before those glowing numbers traveled to her hips. The bones crackled and popped slightly as those numbers teased and tugged, widening that structure to match her slim shoulders, giving her a perfect, if extreme, hourglass shape.
Her butt expanded, growing luscious spheres of firm female muscle, perfect for capturing the male gaze in a pair of painted-on jeans or a tight pair of shorts. But for her, it was simply the perfect aesthetic that she’d always pictured for herself.
Suddenly, she gasped. Those numbers were rotating around to her front, “erasing” her shameful manhood! Those male reproductive organs disappeared an inch at a time, leaving her groin completely smooth, like some sort of toy doll. Then, they forcefully carved into that smooth part of her anatomy, sculpting a lovely slit before diving in, molding her feminine petals and sweet bud into place. A neat, trimmed, fiery red bush appeared around her new delicate womanhood.
Pulsa continued to clack away, pleased with her own handiwork.
The numbers surged down her legs now, depilating them as giving them the same, smooth tan as the rest of her body. Her thighs swelled with delectable flesh, leaving behind no unsightly stretch marks. Her calves were svelte, her ankles delicate, the curved arches of her feet and her cute, painted toes the definition of female attractiveness.
“Wow…” Rose gasped breathlessly. She’d decided on that name long ago. And now, she was worthy of it.
“Shush,” Pulsa brought a finger to her lips. “Not done yet. Now, get ready to say when…”
Over the sound of Pulsa’s laptop whirring madly, the numbers surfed back up Rose’s body and positively plunged into her chest.
Rose squeaked, terrified of the seemingly violent motion of those numbers. But she had no cause for concern. A burning hot sensation bubbled underneath the surface of her skin. When it became too much to contain, her flat chest began to expand…
Those budding swells filled out with lush flesh, growing ever larger at a slow, regular pace. She watched, mesmerized, as they began to fill out her shirt. She wondered how many cup sizes she was gaining. It was an experience Rose never thought she would get to live firsthand, and now, it was happening before her very eyes.
Even as they grew larger, they never sagged. Her exquisite bosom pressed against her shirt, pushing the collar of her shirt out far enough to leave a gap for Rose to stare down. Those massive orbs, expanding by the second, formed a wonderful tanned canyon of sweet cleavage that she lost herself in. Only the sensation of her stiffening, pink nipples tingling from rubbing against her cotton shirt snapped her out of her trance.
And still they grew! They were so large now, Rose couldn’t even see beyond them to examine her new, feminine lower body anymore. She gave it a few more seconds until they were lasciviously spilling beyond the sides of her torso.
“When! When!” Rose finally made her decision, while she still had the willpower to do so.
Her flushed chest began to cool down. Rose panted in heat.
“Good?” Pulsa asked. She pointed to a full length mirror nearby.
Rose sauntered over, feeling the graceful movement of her re-configured body. She gasped at the beauty she beheld in the reflection.
“It’s… me…” she sobbed. “It’s really me. I always saw myself like this… not this beautiful of course, but…”
She choked up, tears dripping down her face. Even her voice sounded the way she’d always wanted. She didn’t have to practice feigning her true sound anymore.
“Thank you, lonelytwister. Pulsa.”
Pulsa smiled brightly. She stretched out her arms, shaking her hands which hadn’t stopped flying over her magical keyboard instrument for minutes.
Retying the ropes that kept her bathrobe closed, she walked up to Rose and admired her own handiwork.
“Do you have anywhere to stay?” Pulsa asked.
“Oh. Oh god! What am I going to do? I hadn’t thought that far! I still have to return the car…”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll send it back to… Cha… Che…”
“Chewatanoa,” Rose completed for her.
“Yeah, that. Part of the service, no extra charge. You can stay with me in Cirrane for a while as you get acclimated. I could use some help in the garden, actually…”
A Few Months Later
Rose, dressed in a wide-brimmed straw hat, a pink and purple plaid button down, and a pair of overalls, toiled in the Cirranean arboretum, trimming the thorns off the flower that was her namesake. Pulsa was enjoying the sunny day, walking down the winding trail of the botanical display.
The two girls’ eyes met, and they smiled at each other warmly.