The Strangeness Within Pt. 01

She took off her shoes, quickly pulled her dress over her head, then stripped out of her underwear. With a deep breath she made herself look in the mirror. There was no way around what she was. Not looking wouldn't make her a normal girl.

Esther didn't know how much her parents knew about her body's strangeness, but they must know something. She'd never been ill, and in fact her mother had repeatedly insisted on the importance of her avoiding doctors. She'd gotten some immunizations for school, but she had the strong suspicion they hadn't really done anything for her.

Puberty, if that's what it was, had come for her so late that she'd given in and accepted the pads Mother kept offering her, letting her mother think that in this at least she was normal. But what Mother called her "courses" had never come at all.

She'd been so excited when her breasts had finally begun to swell slightly, years after she'd been expecting. But her body had continued to slowly change, even if the changes little resembled what the textbooks said. Now all she could look at were her colorful nipples, a shocking dark bluish-purple against her white skin. Those, she could probably cover with make-up, if it ever came to that. Thankfully there were stalls at school for when she had to undress.

The other differences were worse. She brushed her hand down the fur on her abdomen, trying to work up the courage. Over the years she'd read everything she could find in the library about people with unusual genitals, and she knew that "normal" was less normal than people thought. But there was nothing like her particular strangeness. She supposed she was a woman if she was anything, if only because that's what she wanted to be so badly.

Her index finger slid down lower, touching the tiny hole she peed from, the small expanse of skin, and then the reassuringly ordinary anus. She moved back to that empty patch, the place where a real woman would have a vagina. If she got a mirror up close, she would see its unusual color, like her nipples. And when she pressed hard, she felt -- well, something new. Lately she could almost believe she might really have a small opening behind there.

When she was young, she'd assumed this was the hymen the books talked about, and that the pictures were just misleading. Later she'd realized all the problems with that. As far as she could tell, she didn't have a clitoris at all, or anything like labia. When she added up everything else: the colors, her odd bone structure, her eyes, her spectacular memory coupled with the peculiar amnesia -- as a whole they suggested something no one had written about. And surely that was what her parents had been helping her hide from the world.

She turned off the light and lay back on her bedspread, legs apart, and started to play with her nipples. They at least seemed to respond the way nipples were supposed to, if you ignored the colors. She never got exceptional pleasure doing it, but it was kind of comforting. She rocked her hips back and forth, letting those rough patches of skin on her lower back rub hard. That strange sensitivity was something she'd been noticing more and more, and today it was something new again. She gasped lightly at the little whisper of pleasure that raced up her back and around her torso, mingling with and heightening the duller sensations from her nipples.

She was in no rush, and the darkness was a comfort, letting her focus on the tingling in her skin. And finally she let her fingers down to that patch of flesh between her legs, rubbing, pressing, stroking. She was surely imagining it, but she could almost feel the illusory space inside her opening a little. She wasn't imagining the way the tissue began to swell with blood, almost like her nipples. In this state she could feel a faint ring of thicker tissue around the edge, as though she really did have some kind of lips there. It felt good to run her finger around the rim, so she kept doing that for a while.

Maybe she should put a finger in her rectum. Done just right, that could feel good, but she'd only done it in the shower. It was an uncomfortable position on the bed, and kind of messy. What she really wanted was to do this like a normal girl. Feel what a clitoris would feel like. What a hard penis pushing into her would be like. She jerked slightly as an image of Javier's kind face floated in her memory, and she pressed on that spot just the way she imagined his penis would. Surely it had given way a little.

She probed harder, and along with some discomfort she could almost feel something inside straining to meet her, a promise of pleasure that she'd never thought she would feel. She pushed harder and harder, her breath getting more shallow, but of course nothing happened. The tissue pressed inwards a bit, but it was too thick.

Sweating lightly, she lay back in frustration, still rubbing her back against her covers. Then her hand closed on something: her drawing pencil.

It was foolish. Beyond foolish. But an instant later, she was pushing, harder than she'd ever pushed, the point of the pencil forcing the tissue inwards. She had a giddy moment of triumph, jamming it against her with all her strength.

There was a horrible ripping feeling as the pencil pushed *inside* somehow, and for a single instant she felt her whole body pause, as if she'd truly crossed some threshold, with a world of pleasure awaiting.

And then the immense wave of pain washed through her, overwhelming every other sensation. There was a sticky wetness spreading between her legs, and she gritted her teeth, pulling away the pencil and dropping it. But the pain only grew greater.

Esther had never felt anything like this pain. She always healed quickly from little cuts or bruises, and she'd never had anything worse. She let out a choked sob, but she had to know how bad it was. With no little dread she moved her hand closer, only to find a growing pool of sticky liquid. Her blood spilling onto the covers.

In her deliriousness she wondered if she'd triggered her period, letting loose a torrent to make up for lost time. But that made no sense. She'd hurt herself, and she was losing a lot of blood. Every heartbeat was pumping more of her life out, a dull throb on top of the searing pain. She had to stop the bleeding.

She rolled sideways, smearing blood on her hips, but she managed to reach her nightshirt, gritting her teeth and pressing it hard between her legs. But her shirt was soaked alarmingly quickly. She was starting to feel cold, and she suddenly realized she could die like this. Father was dead asleep, and she couldn't imagine waking him, even if she had to. She wasn't sure she could even make her way up the stairs.

Her breath coming in gasps, she managed to roll onto her feet. There was only one person she could think of. Her flashlight was in her drawer, and when she flicked it on it gave off a warm yellow light. It would be enough, if only he thought to look.

His window was dark, but maybe that was just as well. Easier to see. She set the flashlight and staggered back to her bed, half-covering herself. It felt as though she needed to stay awake, but she was so cold, and a heavy drowsiness was filling her limbs.

* * *

"Sssh," whispered Javier. Clara didn't seem to know how loud her giggles could be. "We don't want to wake Mamá."

It was probably all right. Ever since she got the machine to help her breathe at night, Mamá slept like a log. But having Clara in his room made Javier uncomfortable for reasons he couldn't quite place.

He sighed when she gripped his dick and gave him a playful kiss. She had an amazing body, and she was starting to figure out what he wanted. He took her nipple in his mouth, and as much of her breast as he could. She gasped a little as he flicked his tongue about, and then giggled when he let her go with a little smacking noise.

Javier could feel her wetness against the hand he'd wedged between her legs, and his dick throbbed in her hand. He rolled over on top of her, brushing his finger lightly across her moist cleft. It was then that something caught his eye.

There was a little light off in the distance, in the direction he was used to glancing. Esther always kept her blinds closed, but he liked knowing she was there. But this was only a point of light, like a flashlight.

Their old emergency signal. They'd never used it, but of course he hadn't forgotten. And Esther never forgot anything. His heart thudded.

"I'm so ready, Javier," Clara murmured beneath him.

He'd actually forgotten she was there for a minute. What did that mean? He didn't want to think about it right now, but he knew what he had to do.

"Sorry, Clara," he whispered. "You've got to go. This isn't going to work tonight."

"What? What do you mean?" She gripped his erection and he grunted. "You sure seem like you want it."

"It's not that," he said. "I have to do something. Right now." He disentangled himself and rolled off the bed, looking for his clothes.

"You're not making sense," Clara said. "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'm sorry, I can't explain. But you've got to go."

He finished dressing and found Clara's pile of clothes, dropping them on the bed next to her. Reluctantly she started to dress, and as soon as he could he shepherded her out the front door.

"See you tomorrow, at the game?"

"What," Clara replied sharply. "Are you going to make me walk home? That's almost a mile."

"I'm so sorry," he said again. "I'll make it up, I promise."

"Maybe you will," said Clara. She huffed. "But you probably won't see me tomorrow."

When he was sure she was on her way, he circled around the house and jogged towards Esther. His pulse raced. He'd never been in her room, and he had no idea what might be wrong. But he'd never had any choice. Of course he would help.

It was definitely a flashlight in the window, bright enough that he couldn't see anything inside. He knocked softly, but there was no response. Tentatively he pushed up on the glass, and after a bit of sticking he got it open.

"Esther?" he whispered. "What's wrong? Should I come in?"

There was a soft noise from the room, a quiet whimper like a hurt animal.

Javier quickly hoisted himself up and through the window, landing a bit more awkwardly than he'd intended. He crawled towards Esther's moans, finding the edge of her bed. There was an oddly familiar metallic smell in the room.

"Javier?" she muttered. "I'm hurt."

"Where?" he asked, moving closer. "What can I do?"

"I'm bleeding," she said weakly. "I'm - I'm not dressed. Don't turn on the lights. Could you get towels?"

Blood, that was the smell. She must be bleeding a lot. Javier tried not to panic.

"Should I call 911? Where's your family's phone? Should I get your dad?"

"No doctors," she said, breathing heavily. "Please, Javier, trust me. No hospitals. Just get me a towel. Across the hall, in the bathroom."

Javier reached for her flashlight. The metal was sticky with her blood. Carefully avoiding shining it near Esther, he unlocked her door, returning shortly with the towels. When he'd closed the door behind him, he turned off the flashlight and sat cautiously on the side of her bed. Esther accepted a towel and began to rustle under the covers. She dropped something heavy and wet on the floor next to him, causing Javier to wince.

Esther must be horribly embarrassed, and he could guess where the blood might be coming from. He knew women could bleed a lot sometimes, but surely not like this.

"Esther," he said softly. "I really think you need a hospital. This is too much blood. I know you don't want to go, but is it a religious thing? Your dad? I can drive you there myself."

Esther was silent for a bit.

"It's not a religious thing," she said eventually. "And it's not because I'm embarrassed, though I am, or that I just hate doctors. It -- would be really dangerous for me to be examined. But -- oh, God, I'm feeling so weak. I know I'm in trouble. I trust you, Javier, but please trust me. My father, the hospital -- only as a very last resort."

"OK," said Javier unhappily, trying to think of what he could do. "I'm going to get you some water."

He could see all right in the dark now, so he scooped up the wet rag from the floor and headed for the bathroom. He dropped it in the sink and began running water on it, rinsing his hands as he peered around for a cup or something. The mess was probably the last thing to worry about right now.

When he returned with the water, he could make out her form curled under the blankets. She really was so small. Too small to lose this much blood. She shifted slightly to accept the water.

"You can tell me anything," he said, sitting next to her. "I'm not embarrassed by girl things, if that's what this is about. Mamá's even made me go buy tampons for her."

Esther made a small noise that was almost a chuckle, and Javier smiled. Her breathing sounded slower now, but he didn't know if that was good or bad.

"Esther," he said nervously, rushing ahead. "If it's something to do with pregnancy, I would never judge you. I'm just so worried. Uh, could you switch out towels? We should try to find out if the bleeding's getting better."

Esther sighed unhappily. "I'm not pregnant, Javier," she said, grunting in pain as she wriggled under the covers some more. "The bleeding is getting better. I soaked through my shirt in no time."

He took the soiled towel, but didn't move to get up.

"I'm been a complete fool," she said eventually. She sounded half-asleep. "A fool. All my own fault. Thank you so much for coming, Javier."

"I would always come," he said. "That's what we agreed, right?"

"We did," she said softly.

He lay his hand gently at the back of her neck, just to reassure her, and she rested against it. He could feel her pulse. A little fast, but steady. She would be all right, surely. But he would stay with her until she told him to leave. And he was still prepared to take her to the hospital.

Her words came back to him. Dangerous to be examined. He couldn't make sense of that, but Esther had never seemed irrational about anything. It must have something to do with the mystery of her past, but he couldn't unravel it. He'd have to trust her. Maybe she'd explain in her own time.

Esther fell asleep, and Javier's mind drifted as he struggled to stay awake himself. He kept circling around one truth: for all his intimacy with Clara, he'd never felt with her what he felt right now, with this strange girl he barely understood sometimes.

He felt bad when he woke her after a couple hours to change towels again, but there was reassuringly little blood. He used the towel to wipe up a bit, and then gathered the soiled towels to wash.

Cold water did the usual trick eventually, and he did his best to clean the sink as well. They'd have to wash all the bed linens, of course, but maybe she'd be well enough to do that. He was so exhausted, and he had his game tomorrow. Later today. He didn't care. He was where he needed to be.

* * *

Something sharp was punching her in the gut. Esther coughed and tried to blink the crud out of her eyes. The early dawn light spilled through her window, where she'd left her blinds open for some reason.

Last night's memories reassembled themselves, and the pain became even sharper as she remembered. She lifted her head slightly and saw Javier, slumped asleep at the foot of her bed.

One of her small breasts was exposed, and she hurriedly pulled the covers up. Everywhere was a mess and she felt horrible. But she was alive. Javier had left her a full cup of water, which she gratefully drank, but she was still incredibly thirsty. And hungry, too. That had to be a good sign. She probably needed red meat or something.

Father wouldn't be up for a while, but she should make sure she could take care of herself and then send Javier away. She couldn't believe how gentle he'd been with his help, how readily he'd trusted her. She had such a list of reasons why she'd been avoiding him so long, but right now it all seemed pretty foolish.

He had a girlfriend, though. She'd already presumed on him so much. And he didn't know her, not truly. Imagining she might be pregnant, that this was a miscarriage or something? The thought was bitter in her mouth. She couldn't imagine she'd ever be able to have children.

But that was unfair to Javier. How could he know, if even she didn't know what she really was?

"Javier," she said, her voice cracking in her dry throat. She said his name again, and he blearily lifted his head.

"Are you OK?" he whispered. "Sorry I fell asleep. Can I get you anything?"

"More water," she croaked, and he quickly got up to get it for her.

She shifted around, peeling the towel off of her thighs, grimacing at the way everything stuck together. She didn't think she was bleeding much now. Nothing her giant backlog of pads couldn't take care of. She almost smiled at the sad irony.

Javier returned with more water and a huge fluffy bath towel from somewhere. She gave him her best effort at a smile, and he looked away nervously, his eyes fixing on one of the geometric sketches she'd left pinned above her bed.

When she finished the water, she grimaced and stretched under the blanket.

"All right," she said. "I need to see if I can get up on my own. I doubt I'm in danger anymore, and you should get some rest. Could I have some privacy for a minute?"

Javier fled the room with a speed that made her feel terrible. With great care, she rolled her legs off the bed, peeling the sheets off. Everything would have to be soaked. Even the mattress was probably a mess. Her wound burned every time she moved, but it still wasn't nearly as bad as the pain last night. She'd have to look, much as she dreaded it. Gripping the bed for support, she stood up, naked and covered in dried blood.

The small hole was still there. Ugly, blood-crusted, but open and no longer bleeding much. A confused rush of feelings came over her, She looked in her mirror and shook her head along with the pale reflected face. It had still been utterly foolish.

Carefully she wrapped the towel around herself and walked to the door. She was lightheaded, but it wasn't as bad as she'd expected. Maybe her uncannily quick healing was finally reasserting itself.

Javier was across the hall in the bathroom, quietly washing some of her towels. Even her nightshirt. She flushed with embarrassment, beckoning him back to her room.

He stared at her for a long instant, and she realized what a mess she was, even mostly covered by the towel. She could only imagine his look if he saw the rest of her. She gripped the towel tighter.

"Are you sure you're OK?" Javier asked softly when they got to her room. "I can help clean some more. Get you some food, if you're hungry?"

She selfishly wanted him to stay. But he had his own life. A soccer game later today, she was pretty sure.

"I can manage from here," she said. "I'll tell Father my period was really bad this month. He won't ask. Probably he'll be happy to be able to take care of me a bit."

Javier half-smiled, but he looked worried underneath it.

"Is that what it was?" he asked softly. "Not that you have to tell me, of course."

Esther felt herself flushing again, but she didn't want to lie to Javier.

"No, of course not," she said. "I hurt myself in a stupid way. I'm so grateful to you, Javier. You know, if there's anything I can do --"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "There's no need. You called for me, so I came."

She wasn't sure what that look on his face meant, as he turned to climb back out the window.

"I'd come, too," she said. "If you needed it. I remember what we promised."

He gave a little half-nod, and then he was gone. She watched him jog easily back to his house. He was such an athlete, his legs lean and powerful. He could probably carry her more easily than she could flip her stupid mattress. She closed her blinds and stared wearily at the mess, before heading to the bathroom. Might as well start with herself.