by Erin Halfelven
 

1.4 Who's Darla?

My costume had disappeared leaving me standing in front of Kevin completely naked. I think I got a little hysterical then–okay, a little more hysterical. I dodged past him and back into the bathroom with him turning to follow. "Get out of here!" I screamed.

"Okay, okay," he said, backing out of the doorway, running into Steve standing behind him.

I slammed the door and wrapped my arms around my chest to keep my tits from doing things. "Uncle Steve!" I yelled.

"Whoo! Smokin'!" I heard Kevin say on the other side of the door.

"You twisted the ring again?" Steve asked. He didn't sound upset, but maybe a little concerned.

I looked in the mirror. "I'm a naked girl!" Costume, boots and antenna had all disappeared.

"Uh-huh. Just stay calm. You simply turned the ring the wrong way. It's a safety measure."

"What the junk kind of safety measure leaves me standing naked and still a girl? How safe is a naked girl?" I screeched.

"Whoo!" Kevin said again. "I'll protect you, Darla."

"Who the junk is Darla? Don't call me that, you clown-headed pile of monkey poop!"

"I think she's still upset," Kevin said in a deadpan, narrator sort of voice.

Uncle Steve sounded amused. "You should have — never mind."

I noticed something else. "And the ring is gone! Am I stuck like this? Don't tell me I'm stuck like this! How am I going to change back without the ring? I'm a naked pair of tits in here, and just you shut up the snickering, Kevin!"

I could still hear everything. I had barely noticed it before but I had super-hearing apparently. Just from the sounds I could tell where the two of them were standing on the other side of a closed door, the costume disappearing didn't seem to have affected that.

"Calm down," Uncle Steve said from about six feet away from the door. "Sometimes you wouldn't want someone to find out you were wearing the ring, so it disappears, too. For an hour or so. Depends on the situation."

"Huh?" I said. Somehow, I felt as if I had lost a lot of edge in the conversation. It's hard to aggressively yell at someone while you're standing naked in a bathroom holding the tits you shouldn’t have so they don’t make you crazy jiggling. "So I can change back?"

"Should be able to. When the ring appears again, just twist it clockwise, twice, all the way around. That's the real you setting. And any clothes you put on now, you'll be wearing the next time you use the safety position."

"Assume the safety position," Kevin said in a school-loudspeaker voice. "Like if you needed to use the bathroom, I don't think that costume comes off."

"Oh, shut up," I said through the door. "Go get some of my clothes from the house," I told him.

"Uh, Darla," Kevin said. "They're not going to fit you. You're like five-foot nothing and maybe ninety pounds."

If I were that short, I'd be smaller than Tanya. And wouldn't my sister get a laugh to hear me called 'Darla,' a name she had sometimes used when she really wanted to annoy me.

"Don't call me that! That stuff will fit well enough! I can't stay in here naked for however long it takes for this stupid magic ring to decide to re-appear! Get me some clothes to wear!"

"You heard the lady," said Kevin.

"There is a closet in the bathroom," said Steve. "Whatever you do, don't put on any of the clothes in there."

"Huh?" I said. I looked around and spotted the cabinet doors, like old-fashioned closets that had an upper part for shirts and things and drawers beneath for socks and underwear.

"Those clothes are very old," said Steve. "Completely out of style. You would be a fashion disaster looking for a place to happen."

“Har, har,” I said. I opened the cabinet door and looked in. I needed a step stool or something to reach anything.

"I'm telling you, don't wear those clothes," said Steve. His voice still had the flat intonation of a cartoon character trying to trick someone.

I could hear Kevin snorting and snuffling, making sure not to laugh. It sounded like he had a hand over his own mouth.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Uncle Steve," I said. There actually was a step stool in the bathroom, under the sink. I pulled it out and put it in front of the cabinet door, avoiding looking in the mirror at my nakedness.

"There's a little black dress in there that would fit you perfectly," said Uncle Steve. "It's made of silk and feels like a million dollars, I'm told. It won't fit me so I'll never know."

"Jebus!" I sort of swore. "Reverse psychology won't work if I know about it!" I climbed up the two little steps and peered in. One side of the closet held huge, oversize shirts and pants folded across hangers. The other side, the larger half of the closet had colorful slacks, tops and yes, a little black dress. "Silk, huh?" I said.

What would it feel like to wear a dress? I knew I wasn't going to wear it – not ever! – but I did wonder for a moment.

Kevin had to put his two cents in. "Don't do it, Darla! Don't go over to the Dark Side of the closet!"

"Screw you, two-all-beef-patties-between-the-ears!" I said. I pulled out a pair of slacks, green, and the plainest top I could find there, an unfortunate shade of pink, but the colors seemed to go together. The other choices were frilly, or lacy, or both, or the gawdam dress.

Actually, there were two other dresses in the closet, too, one in green and one in a sort of hot pink. There were skirts, too, but I had settled on the slacks. I knew I would feel less like a perv wearing slacks.

My choices didn't seem particularly old or out of style, but I didn't know a lot about girl's fashion. How much style do simple pants and a t-shirt have, anyway?

Once I got them out of the closet, though, I realized they weren't as plain as I had thought. The slacks were medium green but the stitches were dark purple and the waist-band and cuffs had purple lace. The t-shirt was a pink color like a lighter version of the purple, and the shirt cuffs had little green and yellow bows. But… if I wore something, anything, at least I wouldn't be naked.

"There's underwear in the second drawer," said Uncle Steve.

"Thank you, Dr. Fraud." I gave it my best Tanya-style vocal sneer.

I climbed off the step stool, pulled the drawer open and found panties and bras. Bras. I probably needed a bra to stop the juggling act on my chest but dog-fetch-a-frisbee if I was going to wear one. The panties came in colors and some had lace and some didn't. I couldn’t go without underwear – I just couldn't! – but the idea of wearing girl’s panties really made me feel… creepy, I guess is the word.

I stopped for a moment to try to think about what I was doing. “I’m going to put these clothes on so I can go inside the house and get some of my own clothes to wear,” I thought.

It sounded good, and it was either that or break the mirror and try to slit my wrists. Not seriously, I wasn't despondent, thinking of suicide was just hyperbole, but I was mightily annoyed, put out, stressed, stretched and generally pissed off. I would have been angrier still, but I had somehow got the idea that anything I needed to do, I could do. Maybe the invisible ring gave confidence, too.

I tossed my head, annoyed, and pushed my longer hair behind my ears, gestures I had seen Tanya do a thousand times. "Get on with it, Darryl," I said aloud.

I got on with it. Picking a non-lacy pair of panties in pale green from the drawer made me cringe. “Crap!” I said. Maybe I would go without underwear. I looked at the slacks; they weren’t that girlie, other than not having pockets or belt loops or anything and the lace and… jeebus!

I guess I’m just too conventional, though, I couldn’t go without underwear. I pulled the green panties out and put them on, trying not to think about how they felt, sliding up my legs, cool and soft and smooth. The dang things fit, more or less, and that was a terrible, terrible thought.

Standing there, naked except for the panties for a minute or two, I half expected some god of masculinity to strike me dead for what I was doing. It didn’t happen, and I wasn’t sure if I felt relieved or disappointed.

I couldn’t hear Steve and Kevin outside the bathroom door anymore; they seemed to have moved away where they could discuss something without me hearing them. Maybe if I still had my antenna I could hear them, greater super-senses or whatever, but I didn't even try. Probably plotting how to get me to wear make-up, the jerks.

I put the slacks on; they barely reached below my knees. Not slacks then, some kind of capris or pushovers or whatever the heck they were called. The top I pulled over my head; it was basically a t-shirt but had puffy, short sleeves cut on an angle and little ribbons tied in bows on the shoulder seams and right in front of the neck. It also ended an inch above my navel, with a bit of lace that matched the top of the slacks.

And this was the plainest, least over-the-top-feminine shirt in the closet. I closed my eyes and tried to make the girliness go away, but it wouldn’t. At least it didn’t have a hole designed to show off my chest.

Facing a wall for a few minutes, trying to breathe normal and stop grinding my teeth, I knew if I didn’t move much the way my body felt didn’t make me nuts. Finally, I thought I could stand it for an hour or so, if Unk was telling the truth about the ring letting me change back.

I looked in the mirror over the sink. Someone who looked a lot like my sister had five or six years ago looked back at me.