Sing a Healing Song Chapter 4

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Sing a Healing Song, Chapter 4

I woke from a deep sleep, and for a moment, I was disorientated. For a moment, I thought my whole experience in Northern Ireland had been a dream, until I brushed my hands down my chest and felt my breasts, which pretty much solved that.

Even such casual contact made my breasts tingle a little, and I was tempted to see what all the fuss was about when it came to self-pleasure, but I resisted the urge. I still felt a little like an interloper in this body, and so the thought of caressing it or even staring at it naked seemed perverted in some way.

I went and had a shower, and tried really hard not to think about doing what I suspect a lot of teen girls might do at one time or another ...

It took two towels to dry off - one for my body, and another for my hair, which was a striking red color instead of the washed-out paint look it had possessed before my change. Then I accessed for the first time the hidden knowledge the goddess had given me, and got a crash course in how to blow-dry and comb my hair, and even how to put it into a ponytail. While I had been working on that, my clock radio had been going, and I heard a forecast that said today was going to be very hot - or at least hot for Edmonton, which is more famous for its cold winter than for summer heatwaves.

I dug through my dresser looking for something to wear, and found what I thought was the perfect outfit for the weather - panties, a sports bra, ankle socks, jogging shorts and a loose t-shirt.

Once I was dressed, I looked at myself in the mirror. Flame-red hair, a few freckles, green eyes, the same as when I first looked into the water after my transformation. I briefly considered makeup, but I decided to give it a miss for now.

I was feeling restless, and had the urge to go for a run, or maybe a bike ride (I had seen a girl’s bike in the garage when we had pulled in last night.) I figured my mood was just because I’d been unable to do much physically for years, and I wanted to see what this new body was capable of, and so I went downstairs to grab some cereal before I went out.

Unfortunately, my dad was already in the kitchen when I came down, and he looked at my outfit with disapproval.

I noted the look, sighed, and said “What’s wrong, Dad?”

He held his head in his hands for a moment, and then said, “Look. Before I say anything else, let me start by saying this is territory I can honestly say I never thought I would have to cover with you. So at the risk of sounding like some T.V. dad, are you sure that’s the outfit you want to wear today?”

“Its supposed to be super hot, Dad. And I would really like to do something physical. Either go for a run or a bike ride. I feel like I’ve been cooped up too long, and I want to get moving. Besides, I’ve seen other girls wear this kind of outfit for workouts and jogs and stuff. I’m not showing anything they don’t.”

“You’re probably right. But those girls probably have had more experience dealing with boys than you do.”

“But I will have to gain that experience some way. I don’t really want to go to school as a girl being completely ignorant, especially when I have the rest of summer to adjust.”

“Alright, you’ve convinced me. But just do one lap of the neighborhood, and then home. And take a water bottle with you, its already pretty hot out there. And in the worst case you can chuck it at a guy and sprint for home.”

“This isnt exactly a neighborhood full of rapists, Dad. But okay, if it helps keep you from worrying.”

“I don’t think anything will help keep me from worrying. Now go, before I change my mind.”

I gave him a hug, took the full water bottle, went to the door, put on a pair of runners, and went outside.

Then I began the first run of my life.

It would be pretty difficult to explain what it felt like to a person who took running or even walking for granted, but I was relishing each step I took, drinking in the sensation of my feet hitting the pavement, soaking in seeing my surroundings from my new perspective.

I ran past a school, and vowed that I’d try sports when September came, and imagined myself as an athlete.

So I was a little distracted and didn’t see the boy standing at the corner until I ran into him.

We went down in a heap together, both of us making an “umph” sound as we fell.

After a moment’s disorientation, I scrambled to my feet and started apologizing, saying “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Are you hurt?”

He got up, brushed himself off, and gave me a grin as he said, “Not anymore. You can knock me over anytime.”

He looked about sixteen or seventeen, buff but not “I spend every waking moment at the gym” buff, with sandy blonde hair and seriously blue eyes. My face flushed until it was probably the same color as my hair.

“I’m really sorry.”

“You can make up for it by introducing yourself.”

“F.. Fiona.”

He gave me the smile again, and held out a hand. “Andrew Parker.”

I tried to act very nonchalant about taking his hand, but I found myself fighting butterflies in my stomach.

I had a feeling he was doing the same, as we stood there awkwardly for a couple of minutes.

Finally, I gathered my wits about me, and said, “Well, nice to meet you. Bye.”

He called after me to wait, but I ran as hard as I could the rest of the way back home.

I could hear my dad in the living room, so I went there, sat down in a recliner, and said to him,

“Well, Dad. I think I have learned something during my run.”

“And what would that be?” He said, trying to sound casual.

“I think its entirely possible that I’m heterosexual. In so far as I think I like boys.”

The look on his face was priceless ...

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Comments

Dad is right to be worried,

But he is going to have to back off and trust his new daughter. :)

I still suspect she has some gifts she doesn't know about. I would not be surprised self defense is one of them. Women fight dirtier than men, we have to.

trust will take time

he can't just turn off the worry like that - It will take time for him to get used to having an active daughter.

Thanks for commenting, Wendy

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tangents

This has so many possible tangents and side stories that it is mind boggling to try & wonder what your final goal is. I anxiously await the next chapter. Maybe her Dad could give me tips on how to control little girls, as I have two I really care for . Anyway thanks for the great story

I can't help wonder if...

I can't help wonder if we will ever find out which goddess it was that created Fiona? I would like to find out more about her as this story unfolds.

Hugs,
Tamara Jeanne

"The look on his face was priceless!".....

Yeah, I'll bet! (Giggles Talia).
Oh what a wonderful thing to wake up to!
I don't really think Daddy was being 'over protective'!
Nice Dottie! Loving Huggles Talia

thanks, Talia

glad you liked it!

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Back to Sing a Healing Song

Good story; poignant for today as many try to find healing and acceptance for who we are; that we and others might accept changes like looking at new people with affection. Maybe we had before, but not acknowledge it.

Hugs, Jessie C

Jessica E. Connors

Jessica Connors

Nope

RobertaME's picture

::sigh::

So a perfectly normal guy who liked girls (at least a little) before an unwanted transformation ends up liking guys afterwords. So... Matthew is dead... ceased to exist... and someone new has taken his place. Why do I say that? Because there is nothing more important than free will. Our desires are a part of that. What I like and dislike are my choices, not the dictates of my body.

I'm a reasonably attractive woman now, and sure, I get hit on by guys from time to time and I can appreciate how nice it feels to be appreciated, but that has nothing to do with my attraction towards them. It's the same old line... how being a girl must somehow automatically make you like guys. Sometimes the excuse is hormones, which is a lie concocted by T-girls after transition to explain their attraction to men when the fact is that they were already attracted to men before HRT, but don't want to admit that because that might be considered "gay" by those around them. Hormones cannot change sexual orientation. Medical experiments done in the 50s and 60s in misguided efforts to "cure" homosexuality proved that. In this case though the excuse is magical transformation, making Matthew into a heterosexual woman... which is no different than just killing him.

When he was Matthew, he liked girls, enough that it was pointed out that even just simple hugs from a few of them were really nice, but as soon as he is put in a girl's body he starts finding men attractive. The goddess killed Matthew and replaced him with someone new who is only similar to him and with his memories... except she has new memories that tell her how to deal with being a woman like doing her hair... so it's not really him at all. Identity death stories aren't my cup of tea. Pass.

Sorry Dorothy. This looked like it had potential, but I can't overlook the cringy parts. We can't please everyone all the time. :^/ I will say that it's well written, as usual for you! Hugs!

Running

Emma Anne Tate's picture

I recall that CS Lewis, in The Last Battle, wrote that if we could run without tiring, no one would want to do anything else. I’m not a runner, but even I could see his point. And, if you’d spent your life in a wheelchair, I imagine the power of running would be almost unimaginable.

Although I understand the prior commenter’s point and respect her definition of “identity death,” I don’t share it. Fate and circumstance often override our free will, sometimes constricting choices, other times effectuating a change in our preferences to reflect changed circumstances. For instance, Matthew likely had no interest in sports; Fiona, healed, wants to run.

More fundamentally, I wouldn’t consider the protagonist’s sexual orientation to be any more an inviolate part of their identity than gender. Matthew wasn’t asked about either before the switch; that’s fate. What she does about it, though . . . that’s free will.

Emma

the power of running

imagine being able to run for the first time, what a feeling!

huggles!

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