Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fan Fiction ❯ Fear Becomes You ❯ Body Image ( Chapter 6 )

Don't own Buffy or any of the many brand name things/places that I might mention in this chapter, or in any of the previous chapters.

I'm trying to get more Spike POV in here but it's just not working. He's not doing anything.

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Chapter # 6: Body Image

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“Xander?” There was a knock on the dressing room door. “Are you alright in there?”

“Y-ye-yeah, Wills. I'm . . .” Xander swallowed, unable to tear his eyes away from the horrible vision in front of him, “I'm good.”

“You sure? You've been in there for a really long time now.”

“Y-yeah. I'm great.” Despite the fact that Willow was behind the door and couldn't see him, Xander attempted to dredge up a smile. “I'll be out in minute, okay?”

“Well, okay . . . But hurry up. The others should be back soon.”

It was the weekend and Buffy, Willow, and Giles had figured they should probably finally drag Spike and Xander down to the mall for some general clothes shopping. All of Spike's stuff had apparently been stolen and, in the end, they had all agreed that the world needed a clothed Spike more than Giles needed some extra cash.

The others had also apparently decided that Xander needed clothes that fit, even if only somewhat more reasonably, and that since Xander didn't want any, he would just have to be forced.

Xander still didn't get why he needed the girl clothes. He wouldn't be a girl for that long; what would he do with it all when he got big again? It was just a waste of money.

Plus, he'd tried out the bra thing and the Buffy chosen clothing and hadn't liked either of them.

And were panties really that necessary? Really?

It was decided that the group would split up in order to prevent both major damage to Giles' credit card and the transformation of Xander into a life-size doll. Giles, that brave man, would take Buffy and Spike (Buffy to keep Spike in line and Giles to keep Buffy in line) to quickly grab some stuff for Spike, leaving Xander and Willow free to shop alone for a short while. Buffy had pouted at the arrangement but Giles had thankfully held firm.

Willow was so much more lenient than Buffy would've been, what with actually allowing him to buy girl clothes he was relatively comfortable wearing.

Of course that didn't mean he could get away without some girly underwear and trying things on.

Which lead him up to this moment. Looking into a mirror.

It was horrible.

Granted, it was one of those cheap mirrors put in department store dressing rooms that always seemed specifically designed to make people look fatter and uglier than they really were, but still. A mirror

And it was horrible.

A pile of clothing, still yet to be tried on, lay across the one seat in the room, his own clothing lying in a puddle at his feet. He had only been able to force himself into one pair of new, more girl-like, jeans before his eyes had accidentally caught his reflection.

It was really inevitable in this kind of situation. Dressing rooms as a group were generally notorious for their closet-like sizes and floor length mirrors.

Xander had been dreading going into one, both for the mirror and for the changing of clothes, but he had also been holding fast to his delusions of being able to get through this shopping experience without being forced to look at himself. He'd already gone a successful week without once catching sight of a reflection and he didn't want that winning streak to end just yet.

But now . . .

Although Buffy had initially protested its return, he was thankfully still wearing his much too large shirt, which billowed out and covered him very well from shoulder to mid thigh, so he couldn't see any of the more . . . extreme differences. As it was, just his own face was threatening to send Xander into a panic attack.

It was horrible.

He tried to focus on the similarities; wavy dark brown hair cut too short, thin lips, long face, large dark eyes. But his mind kept tripping over all the differences; thinner eyebrows, softer jaw-line, slimmer neck, slightly smaller nose, no stubble.

He could see himself in that face, but it wasn't his face.

And suddenly he needed to see the rest of him. Needed to see what else was gone.

Quickly throwing off the too large shirt and clumsily hopping out of the smaller jeans, he stood before the mirror in nothing but the panties and bra he had been unable to lose before coming here.

And he saw nothing.

Well, okay, he saw something. He still had a body, after all. It just wasn't his body.

Desperately, he claimed long hairy legs—ignoring that they were a little less hairy than usual and weirdly shaped—and the slight pudge around his center from too much junk food. But that was it.

That was all that remained of his body.

The rest—good-sized hips, good-sized breasts, smaller shoulders, feminine curves, and an all-around lack of bulk and height—that was someone else. Someone not him.

This was almost as bad as his hyena possession.

Or maybe it was worse. He'd have to think about that one.

Because at least with his hyena possession he'd still had his body. Sure, someone else was driving it, but it was still there.

As soon as Xander's mind cleared enough to form any definite or understandable opinion, Xander hated it.

Hated the body.

Hated the almost lost state of identity that came with it.

His body had been a large part of what made him Xander. People saw the body and recognized it as Xander. Nobody would recognize him as Xander like this.

And, sure, maybe somebody wouldn't recognize him as Xander if he dyed his hair green and came to school dressed head to toe in black, but that was different.

“Xander?” There was another knock and Xander turned to give the door a cautious look. “It's been almost 15 minutes. Are you sure you're okay in there?”

“I'm fine. Really. Just having a little trouble with all these buttons and snap things.”

There was pause, then a slightly unsure, “Well, okay . . .”

Xander waited until he could hear Willow walking a bit away before turning back to the mirror. In the background, Xander heard Buffy's almost accusing voice asking, “Just what kind of pants did you give him?”

He had breasts. Real breasts.

Two mounds of firm, jiggly flesh now hung from his chest.

The soft and round girl-bits he had spent almost every other moment since puberty fantasizing about were now firmly attached to his body and weren't going anywhere fast. He could now look and feel to his heart's content.

He paused. When he thought about it like that, it was actually kind of . . . eww.

Shaking this off, Xander got back to the point. Or mindless staring, panic attack, nervous breakdown, whatever. What he was doing wasn't really the point.

The point was that he had girl-breasts where there should be guy-breasts, there was a very noticeable lack of penis in the panties, and, oh yeah, he was actually wearing panties.

Did this count as cross-dressing?

Oh god, did he even want this to not count as cross-dressing? That would make him a girl, wouldn't it?

But he didn't want to be a cross-dresser either. He was a guy! A very macho manly man with manly stubble and manly muscles and a manly penis and no breasts and . . . and . . . and fuck . . .

He had to be guy.

He had to.

 

 

Buffy, Giles, and Willow had eventually been forced to physically drag him from the dressing room, becoming incredibly concerned with his sudden bizarre shift in behavior as they watched him stumble about in a daze, eyes wide in confused shock.

Now that Xander had actually seen his reflection it seemed like he was almost hyper-aware of the body he now occupied.

And yes, it was the `body he now occupied', because this was not his body. It was a . . . a . . . well it was a something not his, and that's all that really mattered.

And it just really wasn't fair that he now had to go through all this knowing and feeling with something that wasn't even his.

He could feel every shift of cloth along his new curves, was now intensely aware of how his hips swayed when he walked, saw clearly everything and everyone's new height and width, and just could not stop thinking about how weird it felt for his jeans to cling like they did to his legs and ass and between-legs area.

And, really, that last one was just going a little too far, he thought. It was just shoving his lackage of something near and dear into his face with every, single, step. Practically grounding the fact up his nose and into his brain for maximum torture.

Going into nice-overdrive, the others had rushed him back to Giles' house where they proceeded to walk around him as if he were glass, speaking to him in soft calming tones, fetching him cookies and blankets every few minutes.

And that was great, it really was. Cookies were always appreciated and it was pretty nice to be the center of all this attention. But Xander had weirdly found himself being comforted the most by Spike's response, a knowing laugh accompanied by a mocking, “Finally looked at yerself, eh? `Bout time.”

All this caring and supportive attention from his friends had the unfortunate side-effect of reminding him just why the attention was felt needed in the first place. If they had just overlooked his weird attitude he would've been able to work himself back into his denial-groove eventually and get on with his so-called normal life. But, no, they'd caught on and insisted on being nice, so his new and improved acknowledgment of his unwilling girlhood was essentially being forcibly held still under his nose, where he couldn't help but smell its stink.

Spike, on the other hand, had not stopped laughing. Had sat his unwillingly alive ass down in his armchair and not moved or taken a breather from the mockage-flow since he'd gotten out of the car.

Instead of this being just pure annoying though, it was actually somewhat calming, being something normal in the face of all this weirdness and taking Xander's attention away from his own hyper-sensitive body-sense. If Spike had been nice, Xander didn't know what he would've done, though he strongly suspected it would've involved breaking down and crying like a little bitch.

And once noticing the annoyed-calming effect of the bleached-one's presence, Xander could even see how Spike had been unintentionally helpful since the beginning, giving Xander both something to focus on other then his own changes and a person in a similar situation who wouldn't give in to hysteria for Xander to copy.

Trying to make things worse, Spike had ended up making things better.

Weird

In the end, he'd decided to find his own comfort using the well-tested TV-land-method, kicking his well-meaning but not-helping friends out of the room and hunkering down on the couch with his pile of cookies and the remote control.

Giles had been easy to get rid of, convinced to leave him alone in lieu of making more phone calls in search of a cure. The girls had been harder, but Xander had eventually been able to convince them he was fine, or would be mostly okay until they saw him again tomorrow, and they'd reluctantly left.

Spike, unfortunately and rather predictably, wouldn't leave at all. By this point in time, Spike had basically been promoted to furniture-status, having become a permanent fixture of Giles' living room, so unless Xander decided to forgo TV altogether and change rooms he was pretty much stuck with the asshole.

Good thing Spike was the one he wanted to avoid the least.

“Hey, demon-chow, how `bout shutting up for a second, huh? Trying to watch TV over here and your stupid is messing with my zone.”

“Should try th' Lifetime channel, pet,” Spike suggested.

Xander smirked at him, “Need to get in touch with your own inner girl, do we?”

“Nah,” Spike drawled as he settled back in his chair, “I'm lookin' out fer you now, aren't I? After-school special waitin' t' happen, you are. Need all th' bloody help y' can get.”

“And I thank you kindly for your concern,” Xander rolled his eyes, turning back to the TV, “Now shut up.”

And if Xander didn't watch himself carefully, he might actually start enjoying these little arguments.

Not the person, mind you. The arguments.

Once a vampire, always a vampire, he says. Should just stake them all.

 

 

“So, let me make sure I have this right,” Angel put up a hand and said, slowly, “Xander's a girl.”

Buffy nodded. “Yep.”

Sunday night patrol, and the first time Buffy and Angel had been able to meet up for a few weeks due to a clash between Angel's busy schedule of doing whatever it was he did and her own duties to her friends. Always happy to spend time with him, Buffy was taking the chance to fill Angel in on what he'd missed, slowing circling through the many cemeteries on her route.

“And Spike, Drusilla's Spike, is human,” Angel's voice still slowed.

“Uh-huh.”

He looked over at her. “And this has been going on for an entire week?”

“Pretty wiggy, huh?” she asked, briefly leaning into his side and obviously amused by his stunned expression.

“Yeah . . .” a strange emotion coloring Angel's voice, “wiggy.”

Not paying attention, Buffy continued, “It hasn't been that bad though, really. I mean, Xan had a little freak-out at the mall yesterday, but he's back to normal now, so no big.”

“And Spike?” Angel asked.

Buffy shot him a strange look. “Spike?”

“Yeah, Spike,” Angel being very careful to keep his tone completely neutral, “How's it going with him?”

“Um,” she absently tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear, “well, I haven't really been paying that much attention. He seems fine though, I guess. Hasn't had any major breakdowns or anything.” She shrugged, looking back up at her boyfriend.

“No, I mean, how is he acting? Does he seem to be acting, I don't know, strange, to you at all?”

“No, he's more acting like a complete jerk. I mean, he could be a little more thankful, you know? We're helping him out of the goodness of our own hearts, here. I honestly don't know how Xander can stand to spend so much time with him.”

“So he hasn't done anything out of character for him then?”

“No . . .” pausing, “Well . . . there was that one thing.”

“One thing?” Coming to a halt on the sidewalk, Angel turned to give her his full attention.

“It was just that one time he escaped.”

“Escaped?”

“Yeah, he knocked Xander out and ran off,” she nodded, “It was so weird. When I found him again, he was just, like, sitting there out in the open, totally dazed. Didn't even put up a fight when I dragged him back to Giles' place or when I tied him up again either. And his ropes were totally cut through too. Giles is missing a kitchen knife to prove it. And so, Spike, evil vampire, is alone with this big knife and a knocked out Xander, and he just leaves him there?” she shook her head in incredulity, “So weird.”

Angel looked down, considering. “Yeah . . .”

Continuing their walk, the pair fell into silence for a moment, each thinking their own thoughts.

Finally Buffy just had to ask it. “Why?”

Angel's head shot up. “Huh?”

“Why so concerned about Spike all of a sudden? I mean, you have to have a reason, right?”

“Oh, right. It's . . .” Angel took a moment to compose his thoughts, “well I guess I'm just wondering what Spike being human really means. In the end, how human is human?”

“Well, how human can a guy really get?” she asked, puzzled by the question, and began counting the points off on her fingers, “He eats, he breathes, he's got a pulse, there's no nasty sun allergies and he can't go all bumpy. He's human.”

“Well, yes, but . . .” that strange tone returning to Angel's voice as he looked over at her, “Does that mean he has a soul, too?”

“I . . .” Buffy trailed off, momentarily speechless as the understanding hit her, “Well . . . he'd have to, wouldn't he? I mean . . . humans have souls. It's this whole thing we have. He'd have to.”

 

 

The night after that horrible trip to the mall and Xander was ready to brave the shower again.

This time though, this time he would be giving himself a good washing. None of that brush by the skin with a cloth and squeeze his eyes tight stuff. No this time he was getting serious. Really scrubbing out all that dirt and getting up close and personal with this new body-suit he was wearing.

He could do this.

Taking a deep breath, and then another, Xander stood in front of the bathroom mirror and slowly opened his eyes.

Stared into a stranger's face.

He didn't think he would ever get used to that. To looking into a mirror and knowing the reflection he saw was himself even when it wasn't.

Maybe he should've just kept to the first hand touching-feeling thing.

Looking now at his arms or legs was nothing, mildly wiggy at most. This was just flat out wrong.

Willow and Buffy didn't understand. It's just a little change, they said; think of it as a chance to learn the inner workings of the female mind.

And Xander had laughed along with them, made a few jokes of his own, keeping the situation light. All easy to do when completely ignorant of the true amount of damage being done here.

This was a little bit more than a bad make-over.

He had breasts. Real breasts. As a basic rule, Xander just didn't have breasts. Had never had them, and had never even once seriously thought of getting surgery done to gain them.

Which of course brought up the winning question: Was he even still Xander?

Dragging his eyes away from that strange girl in the mirror, Xander forced his mind back to his task.

Right. He was taking a shower.

Then he'd go to bed. Bed sounded nice.