THE DARK OF THE MOON: Josette’s Story, Chapter 2

THE DARK OF THE MOON: Josette's Story Chapter 2

BY CHRISTOPHER LEESON

Posted 03-30-25
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The reflection caught Loren off-guard—those legs in short pajamas, that ethereal face framed by a blonde cascade. He blinked. He was in the wrong place. This had to be a dream. But it was a dream experience he could like, The clothes in the room suggested that its owner was a hot dresser.

Loren tried to stay calm. Lucid dreams never lasted long. They always stopped when a guy started thinking about something sexy. Controlling his excitement, he addressed his dream girl: "Miss, would you like to—" But the words died in his throat. His voice sounded so strange.

Suddenly, Loren grasped what was happening. He wasn't looking at a girl behind the window. The teen was looking at himself. He was dreaming that he was a girl. His reflection would do credit to a swimsuit model.

Then Loren remembered what he had read about the magic oil.

Did the oil induce vivid dreams? When he dreamed lucidly, he always woke up when he got excited. He fought to maintain his composure. It was kinky to look at a mirror and see a girl worth looking at.

On impulse, he touched his dream boobies. They were soft and warm. Touching them sent a thrill through his upper body. He reexamined the room and finally recognized it—it was his own, but altered. It had been feminized to an astonishing degree. The walls were hung with male pop idol posters and fuzzy animals. Sexy clothing lay strewn about, and that included lingerie so sexy it gave him goosebumps.

A full-length mirror adorned this room’s door. He took a good, hard look at his girlish reflection. "This goes beyond kinky," he whispered. But the strange voice still coming from his throat made him start. He touched his windpipe and said, "Me me me me!" That wasn't his voice. It sounded like a girl's.

Then an envelope on the floor caught his eye. Lifting it, he noted its addressee: Josette Melford. He'd heard that name before. Loren’s mom had watched all the reruns of the Dark Shadows show, and her favorite character had been named Josette. If she had had a daughter, she would have named the girl Josette.

Suddenly, Loren wondered whether his mother was home.

A poster caught Loren’s eye just then. It pictured some boy heartthrob playing an electric guitar. Loren could never understand why girls hero-worshipped musician dorks. How manly could a guy be playing chick music? Chick music was for chicks, and guy music was for guys, and never the twain shall meet.

Suddenly, Loren got a naughty idea. He crossed to the closet to see what was hanging in it. When Loren looked inside, he got another surprise. The closet had gotten a sex change. It was full of femme attire of the flashiest kind.

Loren wondered whether the rest of the house had changed, too. With lips set, he exited to the upstairs hall and descended the familiar stairs. Something wasn't right. He realized his hips were swaying. He couldn't ignored his dream breasts because they bounced with his every descending step.

Distracted, the dream girl stepped on a can opener left on one step and one step, and it hurt like hell! “Ouch!” she yelped.

“Josette! Is that you?” called a dream woman using the voice of Loren’s mother. His mom hurried into the foyer as if attending a major emergency. “Darling!” Mrs. Medford exclaimed. “Did you hurt yourself?”

Even if this was only a dream, Loren felt embarrassed standing on the steps in front of his mother wearing a naughty pair of girl's pajamas.

“What's with you? You're still not dressed.”

Suddenly, Loren realized that his mother had called him “Josette.”

“You're disheveled, and you're barely dressed,” said Mris Melford, “but why are you favoring your left leg?”

“I stepped on something,” Loren—Josette—muttered.

“Go upstairs; put on a robe and slippers. Breakfast is almost ready.”

Josette bemusedly re-climbed the stairs. The moment she touched the doorknob of her room’s door, his mind finally became clear. “O.M.G!” she thought. She—he—had swabbed that so-called magical oil on his arm. It was supposed to change a boy into a girl.

What if this wasn't a dream?

“Mom! I —” He stopped himself. The page he'd read warned against telling anyone about a sex change. He had to be very careful until he knew what was real. "Mom, I'll be right back.” He had to think, and what he thought was that he had to wake up from this craziness.

Josette started slapping herself, jumping up and down, and making loud whispers of, “I want to wake up!”

It didn't work. A poke from a nail file didn't end the dream either.

As the girl sat on the messy bed, awful ideas plagued her thoughts. Was she hallucinating? Was her sanity or her life in danger?

Her mother called from the foot of the stairs. “Josie, honey! Where are you? Have you fallen asleep again?”

Josette struggled to steady herself. She remembered one warning from the sheet. Whatever was going on, asleep or awake, she didn't dare explain things to anybody. The instructions said there would be consequences. Angering the spirits could doom her to remain a girl.

Puzzled, she slipped into a robe and a pair of carpet slippers. Then, taking a deep, shaky breath, she went downstairs for breakfast, more carefully this time.

The breakfast her mom served in the kitchen tasted like real food. That worried her.

“You don't look well, darling,” Lynette Melford said. “Are you ill? Is that why you stumbled?”

“Yeah,” Loren answered. “I started feeling woozy when I got out of bed. I’ll finish my cereal and then go nap.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go to work early today with you feeling ill,” Mrs. Melford told her daughter. “But check in with me often. If I don't hear from you, I'll call you. If you don't answer, I'll rush home or call emergency.”

“You can go to work, Mom. I’ll call if I feel worse.”

Her Mom soon had to hurry out to her car. Josette was glad to be alone. She went up to her room, feeling lousy. Josette avoided looking at her reflection and didn’t want to touch her body, either. She got under the covers without removing her robe. She lay there trying to fall back to sleep, which she hoped would help her wake up normal again. But she couldn’t fall asleep and couldn’t stop thinking. Once in a while, she touched the fabric she was wearing under her robe. It still felt like filmy polyester.

The phone rang, and Josette reached for the cell on the nightstand and answered. It was her mom, asking how she was. The teen reported gradual improvement. She didn’t want her mother coming home early. She needed solitary time to think this thing out!

Josette went downstairs for lunch at midday. Then she carried her sandwich to the TV room and tried to watch a Roku movie, but couldn’t pay attention. By middle afternoon, the part of her that was Loren was flipping out. He had given up the fight to deny reality. He was a she; he had become a real live girl!

#

Josette tried not to panic. Instead, she fought to think clearly. If she were a girl, how long would this continue? The sheet said that anyone transformed by the magic oil would stay transformed until the next new moon. That was a full month! What should she do until then?

But could the sheet be believed? What if the magical transformation was permanent?

Medical attention was a no-go. If she opened her mouth about being a boy transformed by magic, it might trap her in a girl-shape forever!

Josette had to avoid human contact. Fortunately, school was not in session, and almost all her social contacts were made at school. Her only dependable friend was Darrell Rivers? She wished she could call him and talk about this lunacy, but she didn’t dare!

She wracked her brain. What in hell was she supposed to do?

Finally, a useful idea came to mind. She would have to impersonate a person whom she didn't know at all. She knew less than anyone in the city about Josette Melford. Did the real Josette have a Facebook page? What else? Had she kept a diary or journal? Loren had one, so maybe his “sister” would also.

Josette returned to her chaotic room, searching for information. It was discouraging to dig through such disorder. Eventually, she found a shoebox filled with letters. She took these to bed and spent the next hour absorbing their contents. She watched for clues about the girl’s personality and interests. Also, she made a list of the people she knew.

Most of the letters were from adult relatives, since younger people communicated with texts and telephones. Hardly anything she read was informative. It was mostly the “How are you and what are you doing?” stuff.

It was about 4:00 pm before Josette found a well-hidden journal written in longhand. The reading was recent stuff, dated almost up to a couple of days before. It appeared that people usually called her Josie. But though Josie had written it, it held little substance. The girly drivel was solid as cotton candy. Josette, beautiful though she was, only wrote about pedestrian things.

Josette shook her head when she looked at the list of Josie's friends, mostly referred to by first names only. Who were all these people?

Taking a break from the dull reading, Josette explored the house. Loren had vanished, leaving no trace. The girl's car was a different color, model, and make. Fortunately, she found the keys for it.

She took stock of everything she had learned about Josie thus far. Josie’s social circle was enormous. She seemed to be popular, and that made her different from Loren. Loren desired popularity yet had never done much to gain it. He wanted people to accept him on his own terms.

It bothered her that Josie knew many people. Josette didn't want to have strangers coming up suddenly to talk to her about things that she didn't know or care anything about. Josie had male friends, too. However, she wasn’t dating. Was it her decision? Or did boys find her off-putting?

Josette forced herself to go back to reading. Josie mostly wrote about shopping and clothes. The new occupant of her body glanced at the closet again. Its contents gave her a good idea of Josie’s taste in clothing. A lot of it was flashy and wild. Maybe that was why the unimaginative girl was so popular. Boys would willingly hang out with an uninteresting girl as long as she looked hot and her fashion sizzled. Being seen with the right type of girl brought a guy status. For a boy with self-respect, it was better to go around stag than to hang with a Plain Jane who had nothing going for her.

Sighing, Josette refocused on her reading.

#

A phone started ringing. She answered it, rather than have some friend get worried about her “radio silence” and come over to the house to check on her. The cell’s screen read, “Leah.”

“Leah?” Josette spoke into the device.

“Oh, Josie! I haven't heard from you for a couple of days.”

“Ahh, I haven't been feeling well. I’m staying in. I'm still wearing my pajamas. I’ve tried to read, but it just bores me.”

“That's too bad. Have you been thinking about this weekend?”

What about this weekend? Josette had to bluff. “I doubt I’ll have a fun weekend unless I get better.”

“Oh, it could be so great! We have tons of plans to make. Should I come over?”

“No, don't! Mom says this could be catching. Anyway, whenever I think too hard, my mind swims. I’ve spent half the day asleep. I’ve been using the bathroom repeatedly today; I have to go again. We'd better finish this conversation next week when I'm back up to form.”

“Next week? Was the diagnosis a serious one?”

“I got to rush. Love you, kid.” She clicked off the phone.

Now, Josette heard someone walking around downstairs. She hoped it was her mom and not a serial killer.

Somebody was climbing the stairs. Josette looked around for a weapon.

“Josie!” came her mother's voice.

“Yeah, Mom!” she called back.

The door swung in. “You haven't dressed yet, darling,” said Mrs. Melford. “Have you been that ill?”

“I'm getting better. It’s just that I’m staying home, so why bother dressing up?”

“Are you eating?”

“I haven’t eaten all day, but I’m getting hungry now,” the girl fibbed.

“Do you don’t suppose that you've got mononucleosis?”

“I haven’t heard my friends say that it's going around.”

“Maybe it’s iron deficiency anemia.”

“How's that treated?”

“By taking ferrous iron supplements.”

“That doesn't sound too disgusting.”

“Also, it could also be depression. Do you have any reason to be depressed?”

Oh, brother! Did she have a reason?!

“Well, it’s stressful to be starting my last year of high school. Whenever I look at college catalogs, I see nothing worth studying.”

“You were talking about fashion design before.”

Josette thought fast. “I was kidding myself. I've had no head for design. There’s nothing in the world I can do well. I’m afraid I'm going to be a failure. And the thought of leaving all my friends behind—you know, Leah, Tilda, Margo, and Nina—makes me freak out.”

“Choosing a career path is always daunting; however, studying what you’re interested in is a pleasure.”

“If you say so.”

Mrs. Melford smiled. “You're not sounding too sick. Give me about a half hour, and I'll put something on the table. By the way, you promised you'd get this room cleaned up. How can someone who loves fashion put up with this kind of mess?”

“Do you like the way I dress, Mom? I mean, do you approve of my taste in clothes?” Josette was thinking about all those hot dresses and lingerie.

“I’m too wise to argue with young people about fashion choices. In grandma’s day, the 60s, her folks were dead set against miniskirts, but she wore them just the same. It’s important not to go ballistic over little things. The world can survive the moral menace of high hemlines. Also, it makes me proud to see how much you look like a Hollywood starlet.”

Josette wanted to change the subject. “I’m feeling sicker now, Mom.”

“We'll put some iron into you. If you're still unwell until morning, we'll have you checked out.”

Mrs. Melford paused at the door, saying, “I'm going to do the wash this Sunday. Please put your dirty things in the washing machine as soon as you feel strong enough.”

“Okay, Mom,” said Josette Melford.

TO BE CONINTUED IN CHAPTER 3