"I wish I could understand girls better."
The wish you'd made echoing through your mind as you made your way through the park, you attempt to figure out how it could have been interpreted not as giving you some mental command to hear and fathom the way the opposite sex's mind works, but had in fact turned you into a little girl. Finding no connection, sure you were missing something, especially as you considered how your mind, your thoughts, so far as you could tell, were still those of a male of sixteen, you ducked behind some trees when you spot several people.
Not wanting to be discovered the way you are, unsure what people would say, let alone how you were going explain why you were now a girl of seven, you're content to wait until you're sure they've gone somewhere else. Looking down at the now over-sized shirt you have on, you feel certain dressed the way you are, sooner or later you will draw unwanted attention to yourself. Hating the alternative of wearing girl's clothes, which you shudder as you realise, sooner or later, you'll have to do it, you mutter, "I hafta find the well," and cringe at not only how you said the words 'have to', but also at how much hearing your own voice was as a reminder of what's happened. Stepping away from the tree, trying to say aloud, "It's hafta, not hafta," as you attempted to correct your speech, but for reasons you cannot fathom you are unable to, you press on.
How long it took you to cross the park, you're not sure. A journey before which would have taken you fifteen, twenty minutes tops, now feels as if it took you almost an hour, mostly because you had to stop to hide. Coming at last to the public restrooms on the edge of the park, you slow as you become aware of a new issue. Staring in the direction of the concrete building, the pressure on your bladder becoming more and more noticeable, you don't want to have to use the woman's bathroom, but, at the same time, know you cannot use the men's restroom, as it would for sure draw unwanted attention to you. Starting to squirm in place, seeing your choices were to accept or to stand there and pee yourself, you grimace when you realise you have no idea how girl's do their business. Muttering, "Wish I still had icky boy parts instead of girl's no-no parts," you flinch as it comes to you what you said, and feeling as if you were about to burst, you hurry to the toilets, struggle to get the door open and race inside.
Empty, something you’re relieved about, you head for the nearest stall. Closing and securing the door, you turn to face the toilet as you pull up on the hem of your shirt. Worried about it getting in the way, you pull the garment up and over your head. Naked as the day you were born, and still clueless as to what you are supposed to do, you approach the toilet. Looking at the metal thing, then down at your female body, missing the sight of your male package, you wonder if you are supposed to squat or straddle the toilet or what. The pressure in your bladder now to the point you are sure it would burst soon, or you'll end up peeing yourself, you turn, sit down, and after a bit of thought, spread your legs so you are almost straddling the toilet.
And not a moment too soon. For as soon as you do this, your body relaxes, and unable to hold it in any longer, you start to pee. Staring down at your young body, wanting to cry in both relief and shame at having to piss sitting down, you also find yourself displeased with how you hadn't paid more attention in health class when they'd been discussing the human female body. Finishing, not sure if you were supposed to do anything else, you were about to stand and put back on your shirt, you instead change your mind. Grabbing a handful of toilet paper, disliking how it still felt wet down there, you press it betwixt your legs, and suppress the urge to shudder as you blot and rub the bathroom tissue against your female parts. Wondering if all girls and women did this after they pee, you decide you do not care, and figure, so long as you're stuck like this, "At least until I can find the well again," you reason, you'll do what you did after relieving your bladder, and standing, you pull back on your shirt and exit the stall to go wash your hands.
Back outside, you resume your trek, but are soon confronted by two more issues. The first being a relapse of a previous, as you are still concerned by what you have on and how it could attract the wrong sort of attention. Thinking your only choice was to find some more appropriate clothes, you hated the idea even more of having to wear girl's clothes, but also drew a blank as to how you could get some. Figuring you'd have to work it out, and soon, you turn your attention to the next issue confronting you.
Not in the longest time had travelling so far taken so much out of you. But as you left the park, forcing yourself onward, you become aware with each step how much your young body couldn’t travel the same distance for extended periods of time like your older body could. Wanting to do nothing else but to find someplace to sit down to rest, maybe take a short nap, a grimace of annoyance escaped you as you cross the street. Heading in what you hope was the right direction, you change course only once and instead of taking the main streets, you try to keep yourself to back alleys, glad everything around you were suburban neighbourhoods with fences and hedges, which kept you from being seen by anyone. Passing several open backyards, you happen to notice at odd points a number had laundry hanging out to dry on the lines. Your mind going back to the issue of clothes after some time, you think if you could get something from off the lines, it might solve the issue.
Displeased you'd be reduced to stealing someone else stuff, but seeing no other option, you slow when you see a couple choices which might fit you. Checking to make sure there was no one about, you hurry as fast as you could and grab two things, yank until the clothe pins release and run as fast your little legs would carry you. Stopping several houses down, you look at your pilfered prizes.
The first was a swimsuit which someone had forgotten to take the sales tags of before washing it. Staring at the dark blue garment with a Hawaiian floral print, you wonder if your mom ever washed any of your clothes after she bought them as you pull the tag off. Disliking what you are about to do, you set aside the other item, shuck off your shirt, and once again nude, wiggle your way into the swimsuit. Hugging your body, somehow both loose and tight, yet comfortable, the one gripe you have was how much it was a reminder of what you now were, especially when you looked down and saw how flat you were out front as the garment pressed into your privates between your legs. Adjusting the straps so they sat comfortable on your shoulders, and didn't bunch up as they crossed your back, you then reach down to pick up the other item you snagged.
Denim for the skirt part, cotton for the top, you stare for a moment at the dress, taking in the light, greyish-blue, thin, horizontal stripped pattern on the bodice, how it had no sleeves and instead only had two shoulder straps, and how the tag read 5t. Curious to know what this meant, if it was a size, and if the bathing suit was the same size, observing the garment also had tags, you mentally shrug as you pull off the tags. Pulling the dress on over your head, worried for a moment it wouldn't fit, you breathe a sigh of relief when you have it on, but then want to start to cry again as you look down and see yourself, dressed in girl's clothing. Something causing your back to itch, you reach up and behind, and extracting your now longer hair from the garment, you pull a lock forward and stare at the auburn hair. Missing your short, brown hair, you push the hair out of your face and again sigh. Figuring there was nothing you could do about at the moment, you again take one more look down at yourself, run a hand over the soft, cotton dress, and before you can help yourself, you tell yourself, "It really is a pretty dress," as you take in how the skirt part stops shy an inch or so above your knees.
Embarrassed to have to wear such things, and to realise not only was the stuff comfortable, but you were right in your assessment of how pretty the things were, you continue on. Feeling more at ease with what you now have on, it's only after a block or so you stop and with a start, realise you've forgotten your shirt. Looking back the way you've come, wanting to cry as you've now lost the last piece of clothing which tied you to the sixteen-year-old you're supposed to be, you stamp a small foot in frustration. Wanting an end to this, to go back to being a boy, you deliberate on whether to go back for your clothes or press on. Thinking the more important thing was to find the well, you resign yourself to having lost your boy clothes. Telling yourself, "No more icky boy clothes for the moment," hating how, despite your efforts not to, you keep referring to anything boy-related as icky, you exit the alley.
And promptly run into someone. Taking a step backward, torn between running and apologising, you stop and stare up at the person. Seeing the last person you expected, you start to fidget with skirt part of the dress as you gawp at the girl you've had a crush on for the past four years. And just as it happened before, though this time you note you feel no attraction to her, you blurt out, "Julie!" and before you can stop yourself, you rush out, "You've got to help me. See, there was this well and it did something to me and I'm me only I'm not me and you have to help me find the well and the park so I can undo what's happened and not be me but be me because I don't want to be a girl wearing pretty dresses and liking doing so and peeing sitting down and wiping myself afterward and I want icky boy parts not girl's no-no parts," with the majority so babbled it was hard even for you to understand, whilst nearly all of the last bit lost as, unable to stop yourself, you started to cry.
Julie, who had been coming home from her girlfriend's house, didn't know what to make of the situation. Seeing the girl was clearly upset about something, though what, she didn't know, squatted down so she was eye level with her. Missing how the girl had called her by her name, she hugged the girl. And as she did, she soothed, "Hey, now. Shhhh. Hey, it'll be all right. You’ll see. Why don't you take a deep breath and when you're ready, why don't you start over by telling me your name and what's the problem."