Losing My Religion

Chapter 8

Amber had given me a lot of energy that night, and although we both fell asleep at the same time, I ended up waking up really early because of succubus magic. So, being the logical creature I was, I did the only rational thing:

I snuck away.

I was not ready to deal with the emotional vulnerability I had unleashed the previous night during the highs of sex, nor was i ready to face the rejection she'd given me right before we'd fallen asleep.

So I strolled across campus, freezing as the morning air bit through the flimsy fabric of my cheap dress, contemplating life.

I never ended up apologizing to Amber, did I? Whatever, she hates me now anyways…

My thoughts quickly spiraled, honing in on all of the things I’d been stressing about.

What did it mean that it took me shapeshifting into a feminine body to have sex with Amber, to want to have sex with Amber?

Why did my masculine form feel so temporary, so insubstantial? Was it a product of the mechanics of my shapeshifting, a manifestation of how it was difficult to keep the details of my body straight? But why didn’t the same happen with my feminine form?

I intuitively started burning my energy to heat myself, alleviating the chill as I moved through the winding paths between the towering trees. My flats click clacked against the rough pavement, keeping time to my tumultuous thoughts. 

More importantly than any of my other questions: what would it mean if I were to choose to be Lily? What would it mean to tell the school, to tell the church, to tell my father that I was a woman?

Those were the thoughts on my mind, as I returned to my dorm room in the early morning, to the occupied living room I shared with my roommate, Evan.

He sat on our ratty futon, leaning back and smoking the end of a joint, stained t-shirt and messy hair showing every moment of the night of partying they must’ve gone through. “Shiiit,” he said appraisingly, glancing up and down my exposed legs.

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“Shit,” I cursed. 

Doesn’t marijuana mess with your memory? I can just walk past him, pretending nothing is wrong and he’ll forget about it by the time the sun rises, right?

Just as I thought I’d get away with it, he put his arm out behind him, blocking my path and preventing me from reaching my room. I could still turn around and leave, but that would mean confronting Amber, a much scarier prospect, even if Evan figured out my identity.

Evan shook his head, tossing his tousled dirty blonde hair around. “Dude, you’re clearly related to that Adam kid, and I don’t care how good he fucks – you aren’t going in there with him on my watch.” His dilated blue eyes stared into me, resolute.

I blinked, staring at him as my mind whirred, caught between the relief that he hadn’t realized I was a shapeshifting demon and the confusion of figuring out what he thought he realized.

He thinks I’m… 

I blushed. “Adam is out right now,” I thumbed over my shoulder, towards the entrance to the dorm, “He said I could crash in his room…”

He blushed in kind and retracted his arm. “Alright, I’ll make sure no one disturbs you,” he nodded absentmindedly to himself, taking another hit. “Don’t forget to lock the door,” he called over his shoulder at me as I left.

What a strange person…

—

I took up a new hobby Saturday: avoiding people.

My room became my sanctuary, a serene scene of eternal peace, unbothered by the messages my unpowered phone must’ve been failing to receive. Thanks to my stockpile of magic, I didn’t even need to leave the room to eat, a daunting prospect given that I had a very limited wardrobe as Lily, and Adam was… 

Well, I’d gotten one thing right the previous night, and it was that Adam fucking sucked. He was miserable and annoying and inconsiderate, and…

And I’d have to be him again on Sunday. Sophia was the only person at church that knew me as Lily, and I wasn’t so blindly optimistic to think anyone else would take it as well as she had. Or as well as Chris and Amber had.

Weird, how come everyone is so nonchalant about demons being a thing?

Anyways, I got a brief reprieve on Saturday, to prepare myself for the hell that would be Sunday church.

On Sunday morning I got up early again, not bothering to even check how long I had until church, instead spending my valuable time staring at the clothes inhabiting my dresser. 

This is what I wear?!

All my life, I’d always had to wear nice clothes to Sunday church, polos, khaki shorts, and slacks. At some point I’d just figured it would be economical to wear that stuff pretty much every day – it meant I didn’t have to make any meaningful fashion decisions beyond what color shirt to wear with what color pants.

Now, thinking about how even a terrible dress had felt like expressing myself as Lily, it struck me how bland and unfeeling my clothes were. Chris wore clothes that said something about himself – the soft warmth of his flannels and the rugged sturdiness of his jeans. 

What did it say about me that even I thought my clothes were boxy and bland?

It ended up only taking me a few hours to find the least unappealing option in my wardrobe.

It briefly crossed my mind to buy more clothes for my masculine body – it would certainly be the practical choice, given that I would be using it for church and school for the foreseeable future – but, like it had for a long time, the prospect of shopping for men’s clothes filled me with dread. 

No, it wasn’t dread, dread was too exciting of a word. The prospect filled me with an empty boredom, a resigned apathy that said I’d rather pick the first three things I saw than spend my time and focus on it.

I wasn’t ready to think about the prospect of buying more women’s clothes, but I did hang up my dress in the closet – a symbolic gesture, given that it still needed to be washed.

After spinning my wheels for as long as I could, it was finally time to go to church.

—

The idea that I could skip church only came when I was already on the short train ride across town. I’d been so worried about everything else and the question of how late I could be without eliciting a longer lecture from my father, that I’d never considered not going at all.

Amber never went to church, although she did have some kind of family gathering on Saturday nights that I’d never gotten the specifics of — she never talked about her family. Chris also didn’t attend church, although he had an event planned during every full moon…

But did the fact that they didn’t attend church make them bad people? 

Obviously not, but why did it feel like the standards were different for me? Why was there a guilt there, threatening to overtake me for even thinking about it?

Unfortunately, the rickety sounds of the train held none of the answers I was seeking, nor did the couple of blocks I had to walk from the station to the church. 

The sermon, which had just started when I arrived, promised a lot of answers, but given that my father was the one leading the congregation today, I doubted the answers would be satisfactory.

True to my expectations, it was fire and brimstone, don’t sin, etc. for most of an hour, followed by an uncomfortably long rant about how the morals of the world were tanking. The bigotry wasn’t even thinly veiled. 

He’s a great dad but… 

I sat next to Sophia again during our study group, and although she played it cool, not giving anything away to the other people, she gave me a couple of sly looks that unexpectedly made my stomach turn.

She was kind and attractive and studious – so why did it feel like being influenced by her was so wrong?

When she asked me if I wanted a ride home, I declined, making up an errand I needed to take care of on the way home.

The train ride home was the most eventful part of the trip, when I realized that I didn’t have a penis  – another in a long list of shapeshifting mistakes I’d made. I didn’t bother feeling shocked about the revelation, nor did I bother shapeshifting to fix it.

I stumbled my way back to my bed and immediately fell asleep, transforming to my demonic form on the way down to the mattress.

How can such an uneventful day be so exhausting?