Transformation From Girly Air - Part 1

ALL STORY LIST | PARTS - PART 2 | PART 3 

The school had just started a few weeks ago. The three of us, Al  DeAngelo, Brad Conley, and I (Dan Carlisle) always took every opportunity to sneak off for a scuba weekend and Labor Day was no exception. We all really liked the coral reefs in the Keys even though pollution was taking its' toll there too. We usually stayed in Marathon at a rooming house.

There was one room there that had a twin and a trundle bed, perfect for the three of us.  All coming from fairly well-off families, it was no problem getting some extra cash, hopping in a car, and zooming down there.  It was only a four-hour drive.

It's not like we'd be taking off and leaving behind a full social schedule.

You see, we were the class geeks. Always had been. We were all short, skinny, and wore glasses or contacts. Our grades were our only socially redeeming feature. The only reason any of the jocks would even talk to us was because they needed our brains to get through the courses needed to stay on the teams. We each made a nice little wad of side money keeping them out of trouble.

We parked at our favorite dive shack, got our tanks filled,  rented a boat donned our shortie wet suits, jumped in, and headed for the reefs. They had a lot of rules to follow but we all found it so beautiful and educational, it was well worth it.  The first hint that things were not exactly as usual was when we were checking our regulators before diving in.

I took a heavy drag on mine and said, "Wow Al. This is great air.  They must have just changed the filters or something."  Al responded, "Yeah Dan. Check it out, Brad. It's like it has a  flavor or something." Brad did and came to the same conclusion.  We all went off the side backwards with me carrying a tether to the boat, as we were not allowed to anchor in the coral.  After about five minutes, I was on top of the world. I had never felt so good in my life. It was not like being drunk, nitrogen narcosis, or high on drugs. Well, maybe it was. I had never been on drugs.

However, had I not had a regulator stuck in my mouth, I  would have been grinning from ear to ear. It was certainly close to euphoria. The dive went great and we saw a lot of neat sea life, coming up about 45 minutes later.  The effects of breathing that air for almost an hour became immediately apparent as we took off our masks, looked at each other, and began giggling.  "What was in that air, laughing gas?

Al, there is something different about you and Brad," I remarked. "I think maybe you got  better looking down there."  "Never thought I'd be giving you this kind of compliment but yeah, you too bro. I just can't put my finger on it but I feel great. We have to come back here over Thanksgiving. Agreed?"  "Abso-darn-tootely."

We went back and got more air and went out again, encountering the same symptoms, amplified somewhat, deciding that we'd better cool it until tomorrow when we could go down again a  couple more times. We were feeling just WAY too good, like the rapture of the deep, you know-euphoria? And I swear Brad and Al looked even better when we came up the second time too.

I must have the bends or something I thought silently. What do  I care how hot their bodies look or how deep blue Al's eyes are!  So, we went back to the house and got cleaned up. As I was brushing my hair while blow-drying it, I noticed something. It seemed like I had more hair, longer, shinier fuller for certain.  It looked nice. I liked it although arranging it was a bit of a  pain.  Oh, well I thought and let it go.

The other guys looked a little different to me too but I didn't want to say anything to put them off and kept quiet. It was like  I was seeing them with different eyes. I can't quite explain it but we all looked softer, less... masculine if that word ever applied to us at all.  The next morning, Al woke up with a stomachache.

Ostensibly it had been those clams he had for dinner last night. Anyway, rather than leave him in agony alone, we all packed up and went home cutting our trip short.  He had pretty much gotten over it by evening and we went on with business as usual on Sunday. The next Monday we went to classes,  did our tutoring, and went home.

Nothing major. It went that way all week but something was nagging at the back of my mind. One tiny tweak at a time, we were evolving. There were tiny,  almost imperceptible revisions going on with us. However, I was very perceptive.

By Thursday, when we all met in the Tuck shop for tea, we all noticed the same thing. Our fingernails had grown about 3 times as fast as normal and Brad whipped out his clipper but out of my mouth popped,  "Uh, I don't think I want to cut mine, Brad. I think I'll wait until I get home and can file them.

Cutting leaves ragged edges."  He then took a good second look at his and agreed that maybe we  ALL should file them instead of hacking them off so short and putting the clippers away.

When my Mom caught me sitting in a chair watching Oprah and filing my nails, she couldn't help but giggle. "Well, Danny, when  did you decide to stop hacking them back to the quick?"  "Just today Mom. The three of us just decided we might like taking a different approach so we're trying it. How do they look?

Pretty nice, huh?"  "Well, not bad for a beginner Danny but here, let me help you this first time. You don't want to file them straight across like  that."  Mom took over and showed me which way to swing the file and how to shape and undercut and take care of my cuticles and push them back and all.

It was a nice mother-son moment. It also made them look really LONG! It was a nice moment until she began putting the French manicure paint under the tips and then coating the tops with two coats of nude.

Well, I know I should have screamed and pulled away but she was so gentle and matter-of-fact about the whole thing I just went mellow and let her do it. And when she was done, they were absolutely beautiful and LONG and oh yeah, definitely oval and feminine.

"Well Danny, doesn't that look better than those scraggly old  nails you guys wear all the time?"   "Oh yeah, Mom, sure. I'm just wondering what the rest of them are  going to say when they see my pretty hands."  "They'll probably be jealous honey.

I swear your hands are pretty enough for a hand lotion commercial. In fact, here. I want you to use this lotion on them from now on and put a coat of this clear protector from the salon on every day. That way they won't break,  okay?"  "But Mom!"

"Don't be such a weenie Danny. You'll get to like it, I promise."  "Exactly what I'm afraid of Mom. I tutor football players you  know."  "That's their problem, Danny. When that dries in a minute, you can  run over and see how your friends are doing."  Boy, did I EVER. I mean, with nails this long I couldn't even USE  my hands the same way as before. Now I had French TALONS. I ran over to Brad's, wondering what he had done considering he was the one who whipped out the clippers.

WOW! I thought when I saw him.  Instead of his Mom, his older sister had gotten a hold of him in mid-filing and taken charge. He was all done, sitting there in the TV room, sipping a diet coke and reading one of those wild romance novels of his sister's, which he tried to hide as I came into the room.  "Oh, hi Dan. I was uh... just reading."  "So I see. A western." He had his hands behind his back. "The  heroine anyone I'd know?"  "I don't think so, Danny."

"Well? What did you do with them," I asked? Very timidly, he held them out for my inspection. Well, at least they didn't have  French tips like mine but they surely were long and rounded and shiny and feminine just like mine. "They're very pretty Brad. Who  did them?"  "Jeannie. She will do anything to clean up my geek image even if it means THIS! And I just know if I try to cut them now she will  absolutely beat me into a pulp."   "So the pretty nails stay?"   "I guess so."

"Well, it could have been worse. She could have decided to paint  them red or style that mop of yours with ringlets."   "Don't go there, Dan. She's already threatened that little job for  next time she's at odds for something to do."  "Oh wow!"  We then called Al. It seems he suffered a fate even worse than ours.

His Mom wanted to give him a pedicure as well and he ended up with similar girlish nails and medium pink frost toes as well with an admonishment to leave things alone or ELSE.  We decided that we needed to get together over a soda so after dinner, we went to the local sundae shop. May have been a slight mistake.

We tried to keep our hands in our pockets but finally,  we just used them, and a couple of the girls we saw actually made nice comments. The problem was, of course, that you could only use your hands one way when you have claws like a girl.

You use them like a girl. But, for some reason, this digital emoting came easily to us. We soon were carrying on like we had always run around with beautiful talons at the end of our fingers.  Now, under the guiding eyes of OUR tutors, we had to take care of our claws with filing and successive coatings.