Echoes of the Goddess

The sun scorched his skin as if someone were pressing a red-hot iron against every exposed part of his body. Greg… though that name hardly seemed to fit anymore, swayed his hips as if walking a narrow runway, finally staggering up to the car. Every movement was a struggle—long, heavy hair tickled his neck and clung to sweat-soaked skin, while the light fabric of a white tank top stretched taut over a noticeably new chest. The sensation of movement—soft, rhythmic, and alien—mocked every attempt to carry himself "normally."

"God, what a disaster," he thought, futilely trying to stop himself from rolling his eyes as his hips betrayed him with another unintentionally sultry sway. His body simply refused to cooperate.

– Oh… why is this happening to me? – he muttered aloud, but instead of the gruff, irritated tone he expected, a soft, drawn-out sigh escaped his lips. "Why can’t I speak normally? Why do I sound like… like Barbie," he thought in horror, realizing even his inner voice now felt strangely foreign.

When he finally reached the car, Ben—a younger member of their team—was already leaning out of the passenger window.

– Whoa! And who might you be? – Ben asked with genuine curiosity, straightening up a little. – Lost? Need some help?

Greg squinted, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes again, but his lips seemed to form a lazy, slightly sassy smile all on their own.

– Uh… well, like, I’m not lost, – he began, irritably brushing hair from his face as it kept falling over his eyes. – I’m here with you guys, – he added, his tone so sweet it made him want to smack his own forehead.

– With us? – Ben tilted his head, stepping out of the car to get a better look at her. – Don’t recall seeing you before. Then again… I think I’d remember you, – he said with a grin, clearly not hiding the way his eyes roved over her figure. – Are you one of the archaeologists?

Greg clenched his fists, feeling his irritation morph into something hotter and harder to control. Yet, instead of snapping back, his lips—traitorous things—produced an entirely different response.

– Oh, well, you know… hehe, – he let out a nervous giggle and even waved his hand in a girlish gesture. – It’s a long story, but, like, I… um, worked… not exactly in the field, hehe, – those damned giggles just spilled out against his will.

Ben seemed even more intrigued, tilting his head as he studied her more intently.

– Oh, so, you worked behind the scenes, huh? Listen, I can show you around if you’d like. I could even drive you to base camp. We’ve got water, AC…

– Uh… well, I don’t know… – Greg stammered, realizing he sounded like some reality show diva.

From behind them, Martha’s voice rang out.

– Ben, seriously? Our colleague is missing, and you’re offering rides to random girls?

– But she’s an archaeologist too! – Ben retorted, waving her off. Greg flushed with humiliation as Martha shot him a suspicious glance.

– This is weird, – Martha muttered under her breath, stepping closer. – I haven’t seen anyone who looks… well, like you, – she gestured at his outfit and squinted. – Are you sure you’re in the right camp?

Greg took a shaky breath, trying to compose himself. He’d already tried to explain what happened to his colleagues. Tried to tell them about the strange stone figurine he found, about the voice that sounded like love itself laughing in his mind, and how his body suddenly felt alien—light, flexible, and disturbingly… alluring. But every time he opened his mouth, it all came out wrong.

– Well, uh, so… – he began, avoiding Martha’s gaze, but his voice betrayed him, vibrating low and throaty, dripping with unintended allure. – It’s, like, a complicated situation… hehe, – the annoying giggle broke free again before he could stop it.

Martha narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, suspicion written all over her face.

– "Complicated situation"? What are you even talking about? Where did you come from?

– Well, like, Martha, I… hehe, – and then Greg heard his voice rise higher, almost a whisper, as he leaned closer, as if sharing a girlish secret. – It’s me, Greg, – he managed to say, though the words came out oddly… cute.

– What? – Her expression twisted in confusion. – Greg? You’re joking.

– No, no! Like, seriously, – he wrung his hands, crossing his legs in a way that looked more coquettish than tense. – It’s that thing I found, the… um, goddess, you know, hehe… oh, I don’t even understand what happened!

His voice trembled, and his cheeks burned with shame. This wasn’t just humiliating—it was unbearable. Worse still, he felt something strange—Ben’s gaze.

The young archaeologist stood by the car, his eyes scanning Greg’s body with an intensity that sent a jolt through him. Not anger. Not fear. Something else entirely.

– Miss, maybe enough with the jokes, – Martha said, her tone sharp, as though she were trying to piece together an impossible puzzle. – This isn’t funny or even possible.

– Well, like… it’s impossible, but… – Greg bit his lip and tilted his head slightly, barely realizing he was doing it.

– Hey, – Ben interrupted, his voice softer now, almost kind. – Maybe I should still take her to the camp? She looks stressed or something, – he leaned closer and placed a hand on Greg’s shoulder. – Don’t worry, gorgeous, you’ll be okay.

– Listen, – Ben interrupted, his voice softer now, almost caring. – Maybe we should take her to the camp? Looks like she’s, well… stressed or something, – he leaned toward Greg and suddenly placed a hand on his shoulder. – Don’t worry, gorgeous, you’ll be fine.

Greg flinched. His heart started pounding, and he hated himself for it.

– I’m not… – he began, but his voice broke into a sugary tone: – Oh, well, I’m not that… gorgeous, – he mumbled, feeling the words slip out as if of their own accord.

Ben chuckled.

– You’re stunning, – he said with a wink, looking at Greg with clear admiration.

And that’s when Greg realized things were getting even worse. Somewhere deep inside, he suddenly felt drawn to this self-assured young man. It wasn’t just anger or irritation. It was warmth in his chest, heat in his ears, and a strange itch inside that he couldn’t stand.

– Uh… – he began, trying to gather himself. – Well… I, like, don’t know what to say… hehe, – he let out another nervous giggle, feeling his hips sway slightly on their own.

Ben’s smile widened.

– Well, I know what to say. Let’s go. I’ll take you to camp, you can relax there. And then you can tell me your… complicated story.

Greg froze. On one hand, he wanted to scream, to tell them that he was Greg, that this was some kind of cursed magic, and that he wasn’t a "she" at all. But instead, his lips betrayed him again, curling into a soft, almost flirtatious smile.

– Oh, well… you’re, like, so sweet… – he exhaled, terrified by how genuine it sounded.

Ben glanced at Martha with a faint smirk, his expression almost saying, What’s there to argue about? Martha merely scoffed, waved her hand, and turned toward the desert, clearly deciding that arguing with this strange woman was a waste of time.

– Fine, take her, – she grumbled without even looking at them. – But come back later, Ben. And don’t forget we’re looking for Greg.

The name hit Greg like a sharp string snapping in his ears. “I’m right here! I’m Greg, dammit!” he wanted to yell, but instead, his treacherous tongue began spewing something entirely inappropriate again.

– Oh, well, like… I didn’t mean to bother anyone, – he sighed, biting his lip and fluttering his long lashes.

Ben opened the front passenger door, gesturing for Greg to get in.

– Don’t worry, Martha, I’ll get her there quick. And don’t stress about Greg—he’s probably close by. Maybe he just got lost, – Ben winked, then turned to Greg. – Come on, gorgeous.

Greg froze, feeling his legs move toward the car as if on their own. His shorts felt tighter, creating a new sensation of discomfort, his hair tickled his shoulders, and his chest bounced slightly with each step. All these foreign, ridiculous sensations only amplified his frustration, but his body was no longer his own to command.

He sat in the passenger seat and, without thinking, did something completely out of character: he tilted his head slightly, letting his hair cascade over one shoulder, and leaned against the door. Ben started the engine, throwing a quick glance at Greg, who nervously tugged at his shirt, trying to hide his chest—though the attempt only made his movements seem more feminine.

– You alright? – Ben asked warmly, glancing at Greg with concern.

– Oh, well, like… – that irritating phrase slipped out before he could stop it. – Yeah… it’s just, you know, so… hehe… stressful.

Ben chuckled and reached out to touch Greg’s shoulder again.

– Relax. You’re safe.

The touch burned. Greg felt his heart drop to his stomach, his insides twisting into a tight knot. A strange, sticky feeling of desire… an inexplicable pull to this confident young man—someone he would never have noticed or thought about before—crept over him. Against his will, he tilted his head slightly and let himself rest against Ben’s shoulder.

And then it all came flooding back. He remembered his old self—a rough-around-the-edges, slightly weary man in his mid-forties who thrived in solitude on solo expeditions. Greg had always thought he’d found his place in life: archaeology had been his passion since childhood. Uncovering forgotten civilizations and digging up the mysteries of the past helped him forget how fast time was slipping by. At forty-two, he’d built a solid reputation in academic circles, though he’d admitted to himself that his personal life had always been an afterthought.

And now here he was—trapped in a body that belonged to some caricature of a woman. A body that responded to his young colleague in ways he would never have allowed himself to react before.

– Everything will be alright, – Ben said softly, oblivious to Greg’s internal turmoil.

Greg hated him for that reassurance. And he hated himself even more. Because deep down, a small part of him wanted those words—everything will be alright—to be true.