(First Person F To Blueberry TF)

You want to know how I got like this? How a sexy brunette journalist turned into a fruit? Well, I’m clearly not going anywhere, so it wouldn’t hurt to tell you.

I’d like to begin by saying this all took place during my last interview. I’m sorry for the format, I know it’s strange to hear of a story within a story, but trust me: it all makes sense.

At the time, I was talking to… Well, she’d like to remain anonymous, but you probably can picture the type. Redhead, skittish, scared to be interviewed because of her condition. But I did.

“I guess the first sign that something was wrong, for me at least, was a funny feeling.” She said, kicking her feet. “It sounds silly, but… I really shouldn’t second guess myself. It started with a tour, and you know how it ended for me.”

I leaned in, and asked her what was strange. She worked her jaw for a moment, teeth sinking into her upper lip. Uncertainty clouded her brow, casting a faint shadow over her blue eyes.

“‘Look at her face’ was where it all began. I don’t know who said it, some kid on an old tour.” She smiled for the first time. A flush spread across her cheeks, and brought out a pleasing shade of tan. “Anyways, that’s where things started going south. We probably should have known, considering we were supposed to be doctors.”

I held her hand for a moment, giving her the strength to continue. There was something on her face, an excited fear that’s nearly impossible to describe. It’s like she wanted to continue, but dreaded the consequences. In the end, her desire won out.

“The containment suits didn’t really do much. I still can hear that prick of an engineer, ‘I told you, I hadn’t gotten it quite right yet.’ Like that could have warned us.” Her eyes met mine, and she squeezed my hand for a moment before pulling her arm away. “Have you ever felt full, more full than you’ve ever been in your entire life? It’s how I felt then, and how I’ve felt ever since then.”

Oddly enough, I did. I tried to laugh, pawn it off with a ‘you can say that again’ that didn’t make much sense in hindsight. But by then I was intrigued.

“You see, we tried to come up with a cure, but it turns out that madman had already had one. A memetic transference. Sorry, that might be a little over your head. Not to call you a nitwit or anything, but this might take some explaining.” Her legs kicked idly, and that was when I started to have my own growing sense of dread.

“The—” she paused in search of a word, “affected—girl suffered a reaction to some experimental gum. It sounds crazy, but she had started blowing up like a balloon. You know the end results. She was like a blueberry, in every sense of the word. That’s why they brought us in. Wonka said he needed us to fix her.”

She crinkled her nose, clear distaste on her expression. “Wonka’s cure for late-stage Bloomph wasn’t a pill or an injection. No need to stick her with a pin, needle, whatever. It was a contagion. By spreading the word, the girl could shift her curse onto anyone else. Honestly, I’d have had trouble believing it could be spread with the transfer of information had it not happened to me.”

At that point, a small pop marked the silence between us. I was shocked, how couldn’t I be? If what she was saying was true, there was something dangerous about her words. I had to speak up, so I asked her. “You’ve really done it this time, haven’t you?” I was paralyzed, immobile.

“Of course. I had to.” She rose to her feet unsteadily, looking up to me with something approaching pity. “You see, all it takes to transfer Bloomph from one person to another is to describe your own infection. Direct quotes work best, and once you’ve seen it settle, you can go in for the final touch.”

She placed her hand on my stomach, a round ball that had just been petite minutes before. Her brown eyes were tinged with sorrow, but I don’t blame her for what she did. The final touch involved describing how it felt, how it feels to change.

For me, it was the most incredible rush of my life. I was taut, round, swollen as a blimp and unable to do more than wiggle my hands. I couldn’t even kick my feet, they were so buried in my fruity body. Blue was everywhere, now that I looked at it. From head to toe, I was covered in the stuff and it was marvelous.

There’s no feeling quite like it, as I’m sure you can appreciate. Blue, coursing juice flooded my veins and made my every nerve tingle with the same rush from eating candy. My skin wasn’t human anymore, and it didn’t feel that way either. Instead, it was the smooth and silky hide of a fruit.

I felt silly for thinking that I had been simply inflated, or expanded. She confirmed it for me when she pressed her hands against me. “There’s no air in there.” She cooed, and I knew she was right. That’s not air, that’s juice.

Juice was what had stretched my everything. I was full, so full, but so deliriously fresh. I felt like I’d woken from a nap and had come down from the greatest pleasure of my life all in the same breath, and I nearly missed her next, most important words.

“And, to make the changes stick, you need to sing a song. It has to be about the time you contracted Bloomph for it to stick.” And she did. Hers was beautiful, a rich melody with a hint of loss. I couldn’t move my hands to cover my ears, so I had to listen. Otherwise, I would have shut her out. But she sang, and consigned me to my fate.

I’m not sure that my song comes close, but you don’t really have a say in the matter. It’s always nice to have a captive audience.

Oompa Loompa doompety do
That was when I learned to get a clue
Oompa Loompa doompety dee
Danger lurks in curiosity.

What happens when a girl foes for a scoop
Only to learn she’s snared in her loop?
She might learn too much to ever compute
About being a round, full fruit!

(And yes, there’s squeezing involved)

Oompa Loompa doompety dah
Learn this melody, and you’ll go far
One day you’ll change back just like me
But til then enjoy life, dear blueberry!

Much better.

Sorry, I know it seems a little cruel to do this to someone who probably just took a wrong turn. But I guess you should have noticed those warning signs were there for a reason, immature as 'No Women Allowed' may sound. I hope that answers how I became a blueberry, just as well as it answers how I’ve become human again. And I hope it helps you find freedom too.

Spread the word. When you find someone who’ll listen, tell them about the time you were Bloomphed.