Witch of the Web Chapter 3

Novel: Witch of the Web Author: TeacupKitty Updated:
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Chapter 3

Sitting across from Sumr (Daryl?), I’m a little confused to say the least. Willow looks up at and lets out a noise that cos across as intense amusent. I rest my hand on her head without thinking about it as I try to piece together this new information.

Yeah no, I’ve got nothing.

“What do you an?” I ask, my voice sounding strained, making it even more unpleasant to my ears. “H - How?” I stamr. Sumr lets out a heavy sigh. She looks back at , though she seems confused. I follow her gaze and quickly remove my hand from Willow and put it beside .

Close one.

“I suppose I should go back a bit. Do you rember how we used to fawn over the girls in school? And we’d wonder what they were like?” she asks. I give her a jerky nod and she continues. “Well for , I was more wondering what it was like to be them.”

“Well yeah, that’s totally normal isn’t it?” I interrupt her which prompts an odd expression from her. She lets out a dry laugh.

“No Vikkie -”

“Just Vik,” I correct nervously. “Nobody’s called Vikkie since well, you I guess.”

“Right. Well, no Vik,” she starts and I bite back a wince. I actually kind of like the na Vikkie, but I have a reputation to maintain. Yep. A reputation. I look back at her again and she has this look like she’s not looking at , but through . “Guys don’t fantasize about being girls,” she continues. That just doesn’t seem right, though. Here I am, a guy, and I think about what it’d be like all the ti. I open my mouth to say as much and she laughs. “Don’t even try to use yourself as an example Vik. Just don’t.”

Well shit, can she read my mind or sothing?

“So how’d you go from fantasizing about being girls to being one?” I ask, the answer seems important. For curiosity of course. She beams at before schooling her expression to a more neutral one.

“The first step was admitting to myself that I was a girl already. After that I got a hormone replacent body mod and dealt with so bureaucratic bullshit to change my ID and docs.” She has an amused look on her face before continuing. “I was already running my restaurant at the ti, but it was based out of the Wall district and I wasn’t very popular. Still I saved up money and got so work done till I was happy and then suddenly bam!” she slaps the table, causing Willow to bolt out of sight. “As if overnight, business picked up. I figured word got out about a hot cook making good food and every thirsty guy within two districts was coming down to watch .” She snorts. “So I leaned into it, dressed all hot and sexy and soon enough I had enough creds to move locations to a more respectable part of town. I was able to drop the sexpot look and have settled in nicely since.”

I listen carefully through her whole story, my face etched into a frown. Surely it couldn’t be that simple. Right? I an, if the option is there, wouldn’t everyone do that? It’s only logical.

Willow returns to my lap, from a different direction than she ran and stretches out to bap my head again. This ti, nurous articles about sothing called trans people flitted past my eyes. I shake my head to clear it before looking back at Sumr who has this knowing look on her face that makes feel vulnerable.

I. Hate. Feeling. Vulnerable.

“Well, thanks for the place to rest, I should probably get going, yeah?” I say as I go to stand up. Willow topples off and yowls in protest. Sumr stands too and moves closer.

“You don’t have to go,” she assures . Part of really wants to stay too. But it really hits that she’s got this whole life. She’s living the dream and I don’t want to ruin that for her. She sets a hand on my shoulder and stares straight into my eyes. “In fact, I insist you stay for a while. You look like you haven’t eaten in days and I’ve missed you.” The last words are spoken in barely more than a whisper.

How fucking dare she?

I stare at her, indecision warring in my head. On one hand, I am really fucking hungry. On the other hand, this whole conversation is making my head spin. I look at Willow to see what she thinks and - Gross. Why does a digital cat need to lick their -

“Fine!” I snap and drop back onto the couch. “Whatever! I’ll stay. For now at least,” I add that last part as a consolation for myself. The idea of staying for too long leaves feeling weird in ways I can’t really figure out. Sumr is practically radiating light at this point and her glee is a little infectious as I find myself smiling along with her. “Still don’t know why you’d want around though. I didn’t think we were that close,” I grumble.

“Maybe not, but you weren’t the only antisocial one, you know. And you were my best friend, thorns and all.” She smiles. Her face has changed but I recognize that smile. She’s going to say sothing she knows I’ll hate. Bitch don’t do it! “Like a rose,” she breathes out.

Fuuuu - huh. That felt kind of nice.

That really gets my mind running. I never would’ve realized Sumr was my old friend if she hadn’t told . And using a vastly different proxy body in Lanadel had worked wonders for my anonymity. It could work out here too. Now I just needed to convince Sumr to help look like a woman.

Temporarily.

Till the heat dies down.

Because I’m not actually a woman.

This is a bad idea.

Wait, why am I in another room?

“-ure you wanna do this?” Sumr asks, her concern clear in her voice. I must’ve zoned out.

“Huh?” Great response Vik. She lets out a sigh, as if she’s used to it and I realize she kind of is, or was at least. I’ve always been prone to zoning out, ever since I was a teenager.

“Sa ol’ Vik,” she says with a giggle. “You asked to help you… disguise yourself as a girl.” Why did she pause? And when did I actually get around to asking her that. I should nip this in the bud, it’s such a bad idea.

“R - right. I did ask that,” I mutter. Now, just change your mind and - “Yes. Please make look like a woman.” Curse my traitorous mouth.

Fuck.

Sumr’s smiling though, so it’s not all bad at least.

The whole process goes by in a haze. She has put on so clothes, does so make up and styles my admittedly too long hair. It’s been a while since I felt like bothering getting it cut.

She covered up the mirror before we got started and I know why. There’s no way this will work. I’m just going to look like a guy in drag. Hell, not even. I’ve seen a couple drag shows online and they all look amazing honestly. I’m just going to be so sad skinny fucker in a dress and makeup that doesn’t hide shit. And there goes the mirror cover.

I can’t look.

Maybe one little peak won’t hurt.

Woah.

That’s got to be a trick mirror or sothing. Maybe a digital overlay? I can’t look like that.

I’m a guy.

Guys don’t look like pretty delicate flowers.

Guys don’t smile when they see themselves in a dress.

Guys don’t cry when they see their reflection either.

I’m a guy!

I’m a guy.

I’m a guy?

Am I a guy? N - no! I’m a man! Right?

Sumr’s saying sothing to but it’s all kind of fuzzy and I’m feeling a little light headed. Maybe I should’ve gotten so food first. I try to focus on what’s being said to but everything is just spinning and - oh - Soft kitty.

****

Everything feels a bit fuzzy. And not just because I’m petting Willow. Because I am. She’s so soft and I know I should be more concerned with what’s happening, but honestly I’m just so tired. I’m in Lanadel. I’m not totally sure how I got here though.

I open my eyes and see the ceiling of my tower bedroom. Tilting my head down, I can see Willow busy kneading my torso. She looks like what I assu a baker would look like while preparing dough for their daily work. She looks up at and a little baker’s hat appears on her head in a poof.

Huh. Didn’t know she could do that.

Co to think of it, sothing else isn’t quite right. I’m not in my proxy body. I’ve got my gross atsuit still. Maybe I’m dreaming. That’d explain a lot. And honestly, who could bla . Lanadel has always felt more like ho than anywhere else. Well, except maybe my parent’s place. But that hardly counts without them there.

I reach up to wipe away the tears that form. I can cry here. Nobody can see except Willow and I know she doesn’t care. I glance down at her again and she’s watching intently. Still kneading though. It feels really nice actually. Maybe this dream isn’t so bad. I’d still prefer my proxy body though.

Why?

The thought cos unbidden. Why? It echoes around my head, threatening to drown everything else out.

Why what? Ha, take that uncomfortable question. Won’t get to get all introspective.

Willow stops kneading and makes her way up to my face. She gives a little headbutt but leaves her forehead pressed against mine.

Why do you prefer your proxy body?

The thoughts are clearer now. Are they Willow’s? They don’t really have a voice, it’s more like the echo of a thought rattling around in my head and picking up traits of my own internal monologue.

Not sure how I feel about how that sounds like a woman though.

Why?

Because I like it. Alright? Happy now? It’s getting really hard to separate my thoughts from hers.

Are you happy?

What sort of question is that? Of course I’m not happy. I haven’t been happy since my parents died. Hell, I haven’t been happy since before that! The only tis I’m even close to being happy are when I’m in Lanadel. When I’m in my proxy body. When I can’t feel the crush of my skin against my bones.

If I was happy, why would I avoid eating? Have I been avoiding eating? I rack my brain to try and rember the last ti I ate. A few days ago at least. Why haven’t I been eating? I need food to live. I need to live if I’m going to get that new spine. I don’t need that anymore, do I? So why am I bothering? Why did I bother?

Do you want to be happy?

Well yeah. Everyone wants to be happy. But nobody gets to be. How could it be possible when the human condition includes wearing an uncomfortable atsuit that doesn’t fit. Except, Sumr seems happy. Her smile is amazing and undeniably sincere. I’ve seen so many fake smiles, most of them in the mirror, so I can recognize a genuine one. So what makes us different?

Well, she’s trans for one.

Two, she did sothing about it.

Three, she chased her dream and is living a good life.

That’s not an option for though. Right?

Willow has gone back to kneading my torso and I notice sothing a bit odd. My skin changes wherever she presses. With each release, my body changes little by little. What’s she doing?

Making us happy.

Us?

Us.

I guess we are bonded. Oh no. Has my miserable existence been dragging her down? Figures. I’m really no good to anyone. Fucking hell. Do I really deserve to be happy?

Yes.

How can you be so certain? I’ve done so awful things. Hurt people, even if indirectly.

Because you care.

She pads back up to and lays her fuzzy forehead against mine again.

You insist you’re a bad person, but your first thought was to protect . I want to help you.

I don’t respond for so ti, so she goes back to making biscuits. Thinking of it like that makes smile. So do the feelings I can feel from her. LOG made a thinking feeling intelligent feline and intended to use them as a tool. For all my cris, I can’t imagine doing sothing like that. Is that enough to make worth liking? Willow seems to think so. So the least I can do is get a little introspective I guess.

Why do I prefer my proxy body? Well it’s soft, and feels comfortable and doesn’t leave feeling gross. If I could use it in atspace, that’d be even better.

Huh.

How’d I get into Lanadel again? What was I doing before? Sumr was helping disguise myself. I looked so much like my proxy body that I - Oh.

Fuck. No no no no.

I look down. Seems Willow is almost done. I realize what she’s been doing. I look like my proxy body again. I feel a certain satisfaction at that.

No I don’t.

This isn’t right. I’m not.

I can’t be.

It’s not allowed.

What would my parents think?

What would my parents think?

They’d probably be ok with it. They were always good people like that. They’d have been so supportive of Sumr. And ?

A mory springs up. One I’d mostly forgotten. I was playing with a doll with my mom. She had one of her own. I told her that she was the mommy and I was her daughter. She’d looked at as if she was seeing for the first ti and said that I could be her daughter if I wanted.

The next day, so local bullies took my doll and tossed her into a dumpster. They called all sorts of awful nas. They kicked over and over until soone ca to chase them off. It was Sumr. That’s how we t.

My mom tried to offer to get a new doll but I told her boys didn’t play with dolls. I think I was just afraid of getting bullied again. She’d said I didn’t need to be a boy. My dad had agreed with her. I’d thought they were making fun of and ran to my room. They’d never ntioned it again.

Did that actually happen? I reach out to my parents as everything begins to fade. I hear a loud ding which dispels the dream and places firmly back in atspace. Willow is laying on my chest. Sothing looks… off.

Oh.

Sumr

I tuck Vikkie - sorry, Vik, into my guest room’s bed. Sh - he - they. Let’s go with they for now. They’re clearly not taking care of themself. I’d said they looked like they hadn’t eaten in a while but that wasn’t just it. They’re tiny. So very tiny. I can’t even imagine what they’ve been through since their parents - Their parents were good people. And it’s painfully obvious that Vik didn’t handle their loss well.

Living out in the worst parts of town, I saw a lot of awful things. Hunger being one of the most prevalent for those without money. I’d see people rummaging through my bins for scraps. These people hadn’t eaten in so long and even they looked healthier than Vik. The only thing I could think is that Vik’s been starving themself intentionally.

I couldn’t figure out why until they asked to help them look like a girl. I’d tried so gentle nudges towards what I thought was pretty obvious, but they almost left as a result. So I was surprised when they asked. I maybe got too carried away. I just wanted them to trust enough that they’d eat for . I’d dress them up nice and cute and then I’d give them a nice small al to start with. But despite my masterful skill with chicken eggs, I’m really bad at handling trans eggs.

She’d passed out.

After crying.

And looking really confused.

I really should not be allowed near eggs.

My thoughts are spinning out of control so I do what I always do when stressed. I bake. Having this nice apartnt affords the luxury of space for a nice kitchen. Unlike most chefs I never lost my love for cooking at ho. I could get ho from a double shift because one of my other cooks called in sick and I’d still want to make sothing from scratch. Cooking is like therapy for . It makes sense to at least.

Back to baking. I decide on an old favorite and whip up so chocolate chip cookie dough. It gives ti to order my thoughts and sothing occurs to . Vik was petting sothing earlier. Between the malnourishnt and what might be delusions, it was starting to beco a bit clearer that Vik might be spending too much ti in VR.

It’s a fairly common problem in the poorer areas of the city. Life sucks so why spend it in atspace. Lanadel makes a very convenient getaway from life for folks. And with Vik in trouble with loggers, that suggests they are a weaver. Which only makes it make more sense. Mix that with the fact that I am almost certain they are trans. It really all falls into place.

I put the dough on a sheet and set it in the oven. I set a little egg tir (heh, egg) and settle down to think. I’ve figured out the cause of Vik’s problems, or at least the most probable cause. Now I just need a solution. There’s plenty of rehab facilities specifically for people addicted to VR. Most of them are run by LOG so that’s a no go. I could take so ti off work to help Vik myself. That has its own issues too.

Why’d it have to be Vik? Anyone else and I’d have been able to do the smart thing and just stay out of it entirely. I don’t have the sort of safety nets needed to get involved in this sort of thing. But I’d be lying if I tried to say I didn’t still pine for them. I always had a bit of a crush on that prickly little rose bush I call my friend. Because just like the plant, despite their sharp thorns, they’ve got a soft, velvety sort of beauty hidden away for those who know where to look.

I’m still crushing on them. That’s not ideal.

The egg tir goes off, signaling that the cookies are ready. Just as I get up to get them out of the oven, my door opens and a woman with fiery red hair and a gun steps into my apartnt. Then I hear a scream from the guest room.

Great.

End Chapter 3

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