Speaking in Boytongues

On the fifth of April 2017, in the middle of an aging Minnesotan food court, and isolated to the near exact epicenter of a young woman too unfortunate for words - to her high and fore, more specifically - the fabric of reality kinked. Hesitated. Overcompensated. And just like that, got just a wee bit fucked.

Now, that's admittedly not exactly a scientific synopsis. But to be frank, there as of then hadn't really existed a more scientific term for reality fuckery, so called. And as select administrative bureaus would long themselves refer to it as, quote, 'the stupidest god damn anomaly report to ever cross our desks'... well, a little vulgarity actually goes a surprisingly long way in handling this sort of thing.

So it was for the fifth of April. And so it was for the exact moment that, all at once and all in sequence, a queasy, stinging, numb, then altogether fucky taste spread through one Hannah Bertrand's Mouth.

It only lasted a second at most. Barring the fucky; that lingered. But it was enough. And in a way not dissimilar to biting into a pudding cup's crunch, or glancing over a bun's toothworn fuzz, that one singular chain of sensation was all it took to bring Hannah's open-mouthed chewing to a decidedly abrupt halt.

Notably, however, and as should be made immediately clear: there was nothing particularly noteworthy about the moment Hannah bit into her seventh forkful of Mexican rice. It was middling even by food court standards, and if you wanted to get all judgey about things the cleanliness standards of its source would not exactly inspire a closely inspected confidence. But that's all that could really be said about it.

In a word: unremarkable.

"Uhhh... what the fuck. Hannah?" her accompanying, one Isha Sen, interjected from across.

Which all begged the question: why even make mention of it? Particularly given Hannah had already made her judgement call. And swallowed. But also begun smacking her lips as the fucky very much failed to follow food down the way she'd hoped. So perhaps her food wasn't actually to blame after all.

Especially given the... What even was that feeling? It wasn't numb anymore.

But it also very *very* definitely wasn't-

"Hannah. Hannah?" Isha repeated. "Hannah. Why the fuck do you have a boy tongue?"

And Hannah blinked. Actually, Yeah. Yeah, that about summed it up.

It for sure required further qualification, and examination, and- wait, what the fuck even was a boy tongue what the fuck?? But the fact still remained: that her tongue. Her *tongue*. Her... the thing in her mouth?

Whatever the heck it was... it definitely wasn't a girl's any more.

"H-huh? Whadda you mean?" was the first thing Hannah spoke with her new boy tongue.

An evasive first use, it was. Except it totally failed to evade three very new, very pointedly uncomfortable questions. Firstly: neither the words that came out, nor the way that they came out, had in any way become themselves excessively gendered. Which was to say that they were still girl...ish? And not boy. Still girlish, being the main idea. They were normal, same as always. So... why was that?

That was question one.

Which then brought to mind question two: why the in the everliving hell did it feel so unignorably obvious to her that the words a boy tongue helped shape should also be equally boyish? If not more?

AND THREE: BOY TONGUE. WHAT WAS?

"Your... tongue? It's a boy's. It's weird."

That was Isha again, if you had forgotten about her. Given the boy tongue and all.

"So like... wait. Explain this to me. I'm not sure I... Aren't you bugged by the boy taste??"

Which you very much might have, if you were anything like Hannah Bertrand at that exact instant. Because question number three was actually uncomfortably answerable for her. As was Isha's most recent addition. A boy tongue was the thing anchored tight in her mouth, right now. A boy tongue was what was currently running over the back of her teeth, which were neither boy nor observably girl in any obvious fashion, beyond very assuredly residing in the mouth of the latter and one would hope never within the mouth of the former. And a boy tongue was quite similar in that regard itself, in being the exact length, width, and general overall shape as the non-gendered tongue that had laid within Hannah's mouth for all her life up until exactly thirty seven seconds ago. It even had that same raised little bump at the tip, the one that every so often flared up into a sore when it felt like making a particular bastard of itself.

Except a boy tongue was also a boy's. Whatever that meant.

Hannah still wasn't entirely sure on that point, beyond being sure. But either way: it felt like a boy's, it moved like a boy's, everything in Hannah's brain - newly wired to a boy's part as it was - knew it to be a boy's. And all despite the fact that her boy tongue had only just helped craft words ineffectually pretending it somehow didn't know exactly what it had come to be. Because yes, it very very very much tasted like boy too, in a frustratingly indescribable fashion all its own.

That was the most fucky part of all. The boy taste of everything. It bugged, yes, and constantly. Even the remnants of things that weren't boy were starting to taste like it. So... did that mean boy spit, or...?

"I... didn't swap it out or anything, if that's what you're asking," Hannah countered uncertainly. "I don't even know how it got in there. It wasn't me."

She could've tried pretending, but there wasn't much of a point. She really didn't know how it got there, but it was obviously a boy's. Her boy tongue. Couldn't get around it. She stuck it out for emphasis. And as expected, it slid boyishly over her lips.

But there was also a queasy sort of spinning vertigo that came with it. Then a sting, then a numbness. Then this overwhelming sense of fuckery abruptly bloating out of the front of her face.

Until exactly half a second later Hannah's boy tongue had frozen in perhaps the most quizzical shape a muscle can manage, as the boy lips around were at once overcome by a certain maleness of their own.

"Okay, you're fucking with me now. Boy lips too?"

Hannah couldn't really answer, right at that moment. But she could nod. So she did, vigorously.

Yep, boy lips too.

And while something about such a swift *new* addition of boyhood seemed to particularly enhance the fuck of even having mistakenly gendered adjectives linguistically stapled onto your mouthparts in the first place? It was also just plain hard to focus on fuckiness when a solid chunk of one's face decided that it was actually super ok with it, all on its own. And most of her brainpower was already engaged in figuring out if maybe boy lips were different than lip lips, anyway. Could be?

"Huh. They're kinda cute, I guess," Isha helpfully noted, taking a thoughtful sip of drink. "Weird, though."

Hannah blinked. Then nodded just once more, though this one with maybe only 80% certainty. Boy lips: cute? Her mental notepad penciled in. Boy tongue - TBD.

She reeled that boy tongue back in, blinked again. Then hesitantly recentered her fork and gaze both to a half-eaten plate of food that was rapidly becoming far less interesting than it had been the bite previous.

"No, wait," Isha interrupted. There was a thump as her hands slammed down on the mesh table separating them, then a delayed styrofoamy clunk as Hannah's food disappeared from her view, to shortly make itself a permanent non-factor against the floor. "Let me see."

Except "let me" probably wasn't the most accurate choice of words, as Hannah's chin was abruptly wrested up by a stout-nailed hand, and her cheekbones forcibly dimpled open by the pinch of pointer and thumb. Whereupon her friend's prying gaze, its owner suddenly bent precariously over table and entirely too close, began digging itself straight into her open boy mouth. Sort of quivering as it searched around the murky slobbery depths of stinging fuckiness for - what, for remnant bits of rice, what was she even-?

"Yeah... boy," Isha observed matter-of-factly. "Really boy."

She blinked too, and there was a flash of... was that uncertainty?

But when she dove another inch or three forwards right after, and tilted her head, and stuck her tongue waaaay down Hannah's boy throat in one single motion, you really couldn't call it uncertainty anymore.

Now, given this left Hannah particularly indisposed, barring a single cut-short burst of vowels and the far longer string of muffled consonant content that followed, for those unaware:

Boy lips, boy throats, and by then one or two boy teeth, and yes, even boy tongue? These are in fact largely indistinguishable from their non-gendered equivalents. So their transition from A to B was an inherently subtle affair when compared to the decidedly lacking observable subtlety of their finalized state, and involved no sudden bloating, nor narrowing, nor their turning into a cyan-hued curlicue of any persuasion. A tongue was a tongue, boy or no. Hard to muck up.

But that was only in a visual sense. Meaning Hannah had up to here kinda missed the point.

Because boy bits as a whole were composed of boy tissue. And they connected to boy nerves, in numerous fashion. And all of that boy born of many boy cells, which biology would tell you have little itty bits all strewn around inside that for some reason get to decide what you are or aren't.

Hannah's new boy bits had decidedly chosen 'aren't'.

And the thing about all those boy bits, from macro on down? They really like to be touched, as a rule, but almost never get to be. Most boys aren't touched near as often as they should be, and get kissed even less often than that. That's just an unfortunate reality of being a boy, in the usual sense.

But fucky is not usual in any meaningful way. So fucky figured it could correct that.

Which is to say that the boy bits of Hannah's face that Isha was at that moment hardcore molesting were A: very kissable, B: very appreciative, and C: attached to someone that was not a boy and so hadn't even the faintest idea what to do about the tsunami of chemical boyhood they giddily dosed her with in reply.

"Mmmmuh", Hannah verbally demonstrated. "Mmmuhhh."

This marked the second unfamiliar tongue to grace her face that day, but if she were to be asked or able to answer, it was maybe for sure the best of the pair. The owner of that tongue had yet to actually close her eyes, and the way they went all crazy and wide and sort of twirled in a 90 degree arc as she spun her face to get a different angle at Hannah's boy mouth could possibly be construed as creepy, if that tongue inside wasn't so obviously eager to lick over her boy gums and that fleshy bit at the bottom of her quivering boy tongue and was that a boy uvula it was reaching, holy wow that felt amazing. But it WAS that eager, and Isha's fingers only dug tighter into Hannah's cheeks until they were going numb -

Or actually, scratch that, that was probably just them going all boy too -

To the point that all that eager just overflowed the creep buffer and turned into cute instead, so Hannah did not super mind. Also it was just really really really hot, to be boykissed like that. Really hot, geez. Isha's eyes kinda fluttered and Hannah's tongue felt like it was being sucked out of her face as her friend's cheeks dimpled with negative pressure and- Mmmmuh. Hannah just slumped forward into it at that point. Boy whatever. Kissing was great and something that very much was not boy was pulsing all wet and happylike downstairs and you know what, maybe boy taste wasn't such a problem after all.

Especially with how surprisingly well the taste of Isha's half eaten Cajun paired. Mmmuh.

"Mmmmeah..." Isha agreed, slowly disengaging the seal her lips had over Hannah's boy ones.

Except right before they separated in full, there was another taste that spiked into being so sharply that Hannah's fluttery boy tongue near twanged right out of her skull with sheer instinctive recognition. And in almost exactly the time it took that suctiony pop to leave a trail of boy branded slurry momentarily strung between the happyfaced duo, her hormone-drunk brain had even managed to put a name to it.

That name was not all that pressing among her growing list of issues. But it was three letters long.

"Why'd... why'd you kiss me?" marked the third thing Hanna spoke with her new boy tongue. Or, well, more like gasped with it. And while that was usually past the point where you stop counting, it was the first shaped by a boy textured palette and jaw, so it was still sort of a milestone. "That was a kiss. Right?"

"Shyeah," Isha quickly affirmed. "'Course it was."

But while her answer was casual, her body language did not at all match. Which caused this uncanny dissonance as she haltingly noticed and released body parts in turn. Stare, broken; jaw, unhanded; beskirted butt, sheepishly backed up and lowered from its prominent mooning of a food court shrubbery.

"I mean, shame it's you and all, but... boys are cute, right? Your boy tongue is cute. So I wanted to kiss it." She paused, then poorly feigned dismissiveness. "Girls kiss boys all the time."

Hannah blushed. She wasn't sure why.

"Boys kiss boys sometimes too..." her boy tongue bashfully noted.

She, however, decidedly did not. Which left Hannah little option but to clap a hand over her growing list of delinquent body parts, and cringe as that latest question aggressively crossed itself off her growing list.

Boy blush: Cause now known.

Though Isha just rolled her eyes. Then stuck her own boy tongue out for good measure.

Only to freeze stock still, just like that. Eyes instead moving to meet at a focal point directly downwards and currently sitting roughly half an inch outside of her lips.

And just like that, boy tongue number two zipped right on back out of sight.

Yet while something about its appearance did somewhat irk Hannah, in a banal when had that gotten there sort of way? She elected to let it slide, still all giddy and fuzzy from being kissed by a girlfriend who she was only just now realizing was kinda super cute herself. A strange yet entirely accurate impression, and one that only grew in strength when Hannah saw a cute little protrusion press out and move around the inside of Isha's dimple for a spell. She caught it right away, too; there was something about it that just... drew the eye. Kinda took the edge off the fucky sting of boy, teasing at the back of her-

"Ohhhh fuck. Is this what... Mine boy now too?" Isha quietly muttered. Might not even have meant to.

But even if not, it was all Hannah needed to be at once wrested out of her own fuckified fantasizing. Because despite the inherent stupidity of the question's implication, it jumped right onto that irking, throttled it, and at once morphed it instead into stalwart certainty at being given such unexpected voice.

And it was a certainty that looked something like:

"WHY YES, YOUR TOUNGE IS BOY, AND PLEASE CAN I MAYBE SEE IT TO MAKE SURE?"

'Cause now that Isha mentioned it: oh yeah. Oh fuck yeah. It was a tongue, and it was Isha's, and she was letting it out again to do that curling thing that kids always say only eighty percent of people can do, even though now that Hanna thought of it that was probably bull. But it was also a boy tongue.

Which wasn't to say there was a big tattooed symbol of mars across it, or any particular change in its shape. But like... You run your gaze around all panoramic, right? And you see table, table, booth, cashier, asshole on phone, table... boy tongue. It's just what it is, that's its name.

It's so fucking obvious. It's so fucking boy. It's sticking right out of Isha's face, and oh no, it's cute, oh no-

Hannah squints, and Isha squints, and her tongue twitches up as she goes cross-eyed again trying to get a look at her tongue too, and Hannah suddenly gets this disturbing little shudder down her spine as something else about the expression strikes her as all gooey and male and-

Oh fuck. Boy eyes.

Their eyelashes fluttered all boyishly as a muscle around her cheeks twitched uncomfortably. Oooh, so she knew, too. She could tell. Hannah swallowed, and now the numb was past her throat. Except this time it actually was noticeable, visually. Not by her specifically, and definitely not by her just then. But yeah that little bump of wobbly boy swelling out all proud on her throat for sure would have had some explaining to do. If its three letter aura didn't already have that sorted, anyway.

"Isha...? Why do you-" Hannah began. It came out in a tinny high-pitched squeak that still kinda sorta sounded like her voice, but only enough to make an astute eye narrow suspiciously. Maybe not rating a wholesale boy, but certainly a boi.

Her boy tongue was pretty certain that close enough to equal, though. Certainly nice and gendered now.

"Shut up. Shut up," Isha hissed uncertainly. "No way. This is so dumb. Shut- ooooooooh".

That was the boy fingers, as they shot up to press maybe a little too anxiously into boy and ended up slathered in the stuff themselves. Then unwisely dragged it down over nose - nope, wait, boy nose - and a second pair of boy lips... and actually, the boy jaw was recognizable too, now that Hannah was looking for it. It was sorta puffy and round. And really quite fetching, if one happened to like boy.

Which it turned out she did. A lot. In fact-

Well, Hannah had already stood up, started jerkily rounding the table, and begun breathing worryingly hard faster than it took for any of that to finish, so it wasn't even really much of an in fact at all anymore.

"Hey Isha," her boy tongue spoke, with not even a hint of uncertainty. "You're really freaking cute."

"I'm really freaking boy, you mean," Isha groaned. Though not entirely unhappily. "Is this really a thing?"

"Yeah", Hannah agreed, to both.

Then she tackled Isha off her chair, the resultant loud metallic bang thoroughly ignored. And her boy lips locked around lips exactly as boy before Isha could even register the poke of an indoor plantbed against her back. Her hands slammed tight to either side of Isha's head, and filled in with boy so damn fast Hannah didn't even have time to change the term. And needless to say: boy tongues said hello. Repeatedly.

Then shared so much spit it was frankly kind of fucky.

The inside of Isha's face just tasted so thoroughly boy, with only the slightest tang of whatever the other thing was still clinging to it. And to her credit, Isha was eager to share. Her vowels ran out so quick Hannah wasn't sure they'd even been, and when they turned instead into more of a throaty nhhhh, it made a light vibration run from locked lip to lip that was so thoroughly cute Hannah thought she might die right there.

Until there came this slight cracky twang halfway through, at least. One that made the sound bounce around on a little vocal trampoline before settling down into more of a ghhhh instead. Where it stayed.

Which in turn made Hannah's legs wobble where they stood, before deciding: you know what? A little death never hurt anyone. Or two anyones, given a good ol' cum tends to bring bodies closer. And at any rate, the way Isha's legs wrapped around Hannah's helped keep things straight as they slid to the floor.

"Hhhhh", they both absently noted, kinda over everything except the boy thing. The boy thing and air, which they still vexingly needed. But in this case that was okay, because the separation let Hannah cop a good, long look at Isha's new Adam's apple, which was such a boy thing it didn't even need the qualifier.