Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Teenagers, Consensual, Science Fiction, Extra Sensory Perception, Transformation, .
Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - MORFS changes a very latino boy into a very anglo looking girl with a little bit of elemental power. She starts a new life in a new location, and makes some powerful friends. And enemies.
Monday, June 7, 2060 ... the day the world ended!
Well, his world, anyway. Not that the world had been all that good to begin with. With a name like Angel O'Connor, it took him a while to settle in anywhere. Even when people looked at his strikingly latino features and pronounced his first name right, he ended up with all the Hell's Angel and "and Hell" jokes. And worse. More often, the teachers just looked around trying to find an anglo girl before they realized who he was.
The reactions of the "pures" was even worse. Unless they met his parents and heard the family story (going all the way back to the original Cinco de Mayo), they assumed that his appearance and sex were a result of MORFS. And treated him like trash because of it. Throw in a few old fashioned racists, and high school was just a wonderful place to be.
Despite all that, he was known for his pride. He was proud of his heritage (even though both sides of his family had been in the US for generations, and lived and talked like Anglos), proud of his family, and proud of the grades he had worked so hard for. He was in good shape, but only an indifferent athlete. He was more interested in getting a good education than in the personal glory of sports.
His family had moved four times since he had started school, as his father, Jose O'Connor, worked his way up through the company. They seemed to be set, with his father in charge of the Data Center for the entire corporation. The center wouldn't be moved, and they had wanted someone stable and settled for the position. They shouldn't be moving until well after he graduated from high school.
Confident in their stability, his mother, Magdalena, had a job with the school. Although her job was technically still clerical, she had risen to a lead position. She was known as a hard worker, and was well liked by her coworkers.
Until Monday, June 7, 2060.
Summer had just started. He had plans. Some relaxation, some enrichment, a job, and going with the family to visit friends and relatives. The usual sorts of things. But he was really looking forward to them.
But then there were the meetings that weekend. His father was in the office more than at home. And the whispered conversations between his parents. And his mother's emotions, all over the map. He was only peripherally aware of it, while he celebrated his first weekend out of school.
He should have known something was up when he smelled breakfast Monday morning. Normally, they both had meetings Monday mornings. And even though school was out for him, his mother would be busy for days with all the year end paperwork. But he had made a late night of it Sunday, catching up on the videos he had put off while studying for finals and writing papers.
Still half asleep, he followed his nose into the kitchen. When he put his mind to it he was a pretty fair cook, but he doubted he would ever reach his mother's level. He was surprised to find them both at the table, and a place set for him.
They let him serve himself and start eating before they dropped the bomb.
"I have some news, some good news, and some bad news," his father began. "First, about 20 minutes ago, it was announced that my company is merging with CTGCO. I couldn't tell you about that until the announcement, because of the laws and the confidentiality agreements. The good news is that I will be heading up the Data Center for the combined company. It will be a larger operation, and I will make more money. They are still deciding whether my title will change."
"Congratulations!" Angel cheered. He was genuinely happy that his father was being recognized and rewarded.
"Yes, well ... there is also some bad news."
Angel sobered, waiting.
"The new Data Center is in Denver. We have to move."
"But..." Angel was shocked. They had PROMISED! A part of him, the child still hiding behind the grown-up, 16 year old face he showed the world, wanted to scream and cry. But this was no time for that. If they had to move, they had to. And he would go through the process of being the new kid at school, and in the neighborhood, all over again. There were other issues, though. "What about your job?" he asked his mother.
"I gave them my notice this morning. They understand. I will be working there part time for the next few days, making sure my successor is up to speed on everything. The rest of the time, we will be getting ready to go. It might even work out well for me. I checked the internet, and two of the school districts there are looking for someone like me. I might even get a higher salary out of it." She smiled.
"You're going to miss it, aren't you?" he asked, recognizing her "putting a good face on it" expression.
"Yes, I'll miss it," she admitted. "I'll miss my coworkers, our friends here, and all the rest. But we'll make new friends, and sooner or later I'll have new coworkers."
"At least it is happening during the summer," his father commented. "You will have some time to get settled in our new home before you start school again. I'll be jumping right in with my new coworkers." He ended with an ironic smile.
Angel was silent as he finished his breakfast. He had made some friends there, once he was confident that they would really be staying. He hadn't had a girlfriend, and his tastes didn't run to boyfriends. Not that it mattered anyway - he hadn't had any offers from that side of the fence, either. But the point was that he had settled in. He had gotten used to being in one place and had put down roots of a sort. His world had started coming together.
And now that world was ending.
He was going to have to tell everyone. Disappoint everyone. His new boss, the friends he made plans with, even the teachers who expected him next year ... everyone.
The rest of the day just got more depressing. They sketched out the schedule for him. He would have three days to pack what he would need in the short term, and get rid of anything he didn't want to take to Colorado. Then the movers would come and pack up the rest. Even the final house cleaning would be done by other people.
At the end of the three days, he and his mother would take an indirect route to Denver. They would visit family and old friends of his parents en route. That, at least, was part of what they had planned before. But now, they wouldn't be coming back home. Now, they would end up somewhere else, and try to make that home.
He made it a point to limit his whining to the inside of his head, or the empty house, as much as he could. It would only have upset his parents, and riding cross country with an upset mother at the wheel was no fun. Besides, even he had to admit that whining did little good. It wasn't even a good way to blow off steam about the problem.
Packing his own stuff took almost no time. Digging out the things he needed to return to friends, and the things he wanted (or needed) to give away, took longer than that. By the end of Monday, he was helping his mother pack the fragile and special things they didn't want to trust to the movers.
Tuesday morning, they drove his father to the airport and said their goodbyes. A couple of his coworkers, who were also transferring to the new office, would drive his car there for them.
When they got home, he had a few hours to devote to saying goodbye. His mother would be at the office for the rest of the morning, and then would be taking care of things like newspapers, mail, and all the other details of moving away.
He spent the morning making the rounds of his friends, giving them the things he had put aside and collecting the things they had borrowed from him. A group of them had lunch together at their favorite place, one of the few that hadn't been driven out by some chain.
They joked and commiserated with him, reminding him why he liked them in the first place. They also reminded him that they all had phones, email, and messaging, and made sure he had all the necessary details. A couple of the girls gave him goodbye kisses, to make sure he'd remember them.
It worked, he thought with a grin.
He got home at about the same time as his mother, and they got to work packing more of the things they would be taking in the car. Dinner was leftovers and other goodies from the fridge. He was tired enough that he went to bed much earlier than he had planned on.
He spent most of Wednesday packing the car, while his mother finished up at the office. They would be leaving the following morning, on the theory that it was better to start off relatively rested. He would share the driving, about one hour for every three his mother drove. It was better than nothing.
Wednesday night, his friends took him out for a "night of debauchery," to send him on his way in style. Unfortunately, their choices of excess were limited by their ages. They stuffed him with junk food and candy, played a couple of games, watched a couple of "borrowed" pornos starring unusual MORFS characters, and staged a wet t shirt contest for him to judge. It might not have been much by adult standards, but they enjoyed it.
Thursday morning gave him a new experience: a hangover. Even though he had been careful not to drink (his mother would be sure to smell the alcohol from his sweat and breath in the close confines of the car). His mother gave him no sympathy, but didn't seem too mad about it.
As they drove out of town, he eagerly looked around for a last glimpse of familiar places and people. Within an hour, he was back to nursing his hangover and feeling sorry for himself.
By lunch time, they were well on their way toward the State line. He should have been feeling better by then, but he felt worse. When they stopped for lunch, he lost it almost as soon as he ate it. His mother checked his forehead, she noticed that he had a fever. Cautious by nature, she called her medical insurer and found an in-network clinic nearby.
They were prepared to learn that it was some kind of flu or the like. They were not prepared for the diagnosis they got: MORFS. With no place to call home, he was on his way to becoming anything from a super hero to a cocker spaniel.
After a long discussion with the doctor, they decided that they would continue on to his aunt Maria's house, while he slept away his changes in the back seat. It was less than 10 hours away, so they should make it with little or no trouble. They got his supplies, and gave him a video chip to watch on the road. When he was ready, he would eat an energy pack, take a pill, and then spend the next 18 hours asleep.
His mother joked that she was going to have a quieter ride than she expected, but he could see that she was worried. He watched the video while she told his father and then his aunt about his condition. When they got there, his aunt would be ready.
He made sure to go to the bathroom before they left, then strapped himself into the sheet covered back seat. After choking down the energy pack, he wished his mother a good night (even though it was still fairly early in the afternoon) and swallowed the pill. In moments, he was unconscious.
His mother laughed quietly at the irony of some of the advice she had seen. There was the comment that it was common for one or both parents to want to spend the time when their child was sleeping through the changes in the room, watching over them. It cautioned that it was both pointless and a bad idea. Pointless, because there was nothing they could do. A bad idea because they would be wearing themselves out unnecessarily, and because they would run the risk of seeing some very disturbing things while their child changed. It was ok to check on them every few hours, but they recommended no more than once per hour.
The irony was that she would be spending the time with him. Of course, she would be driving rather than just sitting there watching and worrying. But she would be there, for all the good it would do her.
The drive was largely uneventful. Though she wondered and worried about what her Angel would become, she was able to concentrate on the driving. When she stopped for dinner, it was at a fast food place. She went inside, got her meal, and then sat where she could watch the car while she ate. The only times it was out of her sight were when she got her meal, and when she used the restroom. While she was eating, she called her sister again, and verified that all was ready for their arrival. Her niece and nephew had already gone through MORFS, so her sister knew what to expect. Or thought she did.
One precaution Maria mentioned she had taken surprised Magdalena. She called the local police, and explained the situation to them. She halfway expected them to get calls about them carrying an apparent dead body from the car to the house. Some of the neighbors were less than friendly anyway, being in the throws of the anti-MORFS fervor encouraged by certain churches and others.
The last couple of hours of the drive were the hardest. It was late at night, and she had gone through a very emotional day. While she had been careful not to let Angel see it, she was worried before they got to the clinic, and shaken by the diagnosis. And all that on top of leaving the home, friends, and job that she had grown to love. She was physically and emotionally exhausted. The second time she caught herself drifting off to sleep - and off the road - she knew she had pushed herself too far.
She pulled into the lot at a nearby truck stop, with its combination of gas pumps, large convenience store, and mini food court, and called her sister. She hated calling for help, but she needed to get there in one piece. The truly galling part was that she was little more than an hour's drive from her goal. She had already hit the point where caffeine no longer woke her up, so even that choice was not available.
Like before, she sat where she could watch the car while she waited and sipped her iced tea. She didn't even notice it when she slipped into a fitful sleep, until a hand on her shoulder startled her awake. It was John, her brother-in-law. After a hurried conference, they decided that Maria would drive Magdalena and Angel, and John would follow in his car.
When she opened the car door, she was assailed by the smells. She had left windows open a crack for ventilation, but it was still concentrated. She recognized the smell of adolescent sweat, and the rest was an unpleasant, but largely unidentifiable, mixture. Maria assured her that it was normal.
"Maggie, it was pretty much the same when our two changed. Just," she coughed, "not quite so concentrated. After all, they were in large, well ventilated rooms instead of a minivan turned moving van. It's a warm night, so we can just open the windows and it will air out the car while we drive."
They talked for about twenty more minutes, until Magdalena faded back into her fitful sleep. When they got to the house, her sister woke her up and the three of them carried Angel into the house. After getting him settled into bed, her hosts pointed out that they had seven hours or so before he was going to wake up. They would look in on him from time to time, but she needed to get some sleep if she was going to do him any good. They would wake her an hour before he was scheduled to come out of it, or earlier if anything came up.
She didn't take much convincing. They were right, and she knew it.
When Angel woke up, he noticed three things. First, he was in a strange bed in a strange room. Second, his mother was right there, asking how he felt. Finally, and much more urgently, he felt every minute of the 18 hours it had been since he went to the bathroom.
"Bathroom!" he was relieved to find her helping him out of bed and on his way. While taking care of business, he noticed a set of towels and a washcloth had been set out. When he finished, he took the hint and stepped into the shower. He didn't feel all that different, and nothing obvious had been lost or gained. But he knew that didn't mean all that much.
After drying himself off, he wrapped a towel around himself and made his way back to the bedroom. The bed had been stripped and remade, and a pair of underwear and his old gym shorts were on top of the covers. He slipped into them, and was about to take the towel back to the bathroom when there was a knock at the door.
"It's me," his mother called. "Are you decent?"
"Haven't been for years, but I'm dressed." It was an old family joke.
She came in, followed by his four hosts. His aunt and uncle looked pretty much like he remembered, except they seemed just a little bit taller. His cousins were more of a surprise.
David, the older of the two, looked like a movie werewolf. He was covered in dark gray fur, and had a hairy tail sticking out the back of his pants. His mouth and nose stuck out some, giving the suggestion of a canine muzzle.
Janey looked more like a cartoon squirrel, with red orange fur, prominent incisors, and a large, bushy tail.
He had been told about them, but seeing them in person was different. Their voices had changed, but they could still speak fairly clearly. He later learned that their speech had taken a lot of work to get that good.
He assured them all that he felt every bit as bad as he looked, and they left him to his preparations. He ate the energy pack (which hadn't gotten any better tasting), popped the pill, and all but passed out.
The next three days were a blur of waking, taking care of his body's immediate needs, saying a few miserable words, eating (if you could call it that) and going back to sleep. He had a few impressions about the changes he was going through, but the video had warned him that they were notoriously unreliable. On the plus side, he didn't notice any fur, and his head still seemed completely human. On the minus side, he seemed shorter and there were some changes below the belt. He was unhappy about those minuses, but he was too miserable in general to care all that much.
Every time he woke up, it was to the gentle smile of his mother. Some times alone, some times with the others. While all of them gave him words of encouragement, his cousins were able to share what they went through, and assure him he would get through it.
Then he woke up. This time, really woke up. He had the usual full bladder and coating of crud, but otherwise, he felt normal. His mother smiled a little more than usual, and seemed a little more cheerful when she spoke. But it wasn't until he had taken care of business and started his shower that he realized something about what she had said.
She mispronounced his name. She said it like he had wings and a harp. In the past, she had only used it when saying something gushy like "my sweet angel" rather than his name.
In the shower, he took stock. He had medium sized breasts (judging by girls he knew), white skin - anglo white, not albino white - and, saving the worst for last, fully female plumbing (as far as he could tell). His hair was fine, blond, and down to his shoulders. He couldn't really see his pubic hair, but it seemed a little softer than it had.
"This is not the way I wanted to get into a girl's pants."
"I would think not!" He nearly jumped out of the shower at the sound of his mother's voice. It was bad enough that he had said it out loud, but the fact that his mother heard it? Aargh!
"Please tell me I'm still asleep, and you're not really here."
She barely held back the laugh. "Alright. You're still asleep, and I'm not really here."
"You wouldn't lie to your only son, would you?"
"Not any more. But my new daughter is fair game." This time the giggle escaped.
Magdalena was more relieved than anything. If he ... she could joke like that, he ... she was taking it better than she had feared. She knew there would be difficult times ahead, and that it hadn't really sunk in yet. But this was a good sign. Her son had always been strong, in the ways that mattered. He was proud, and that pride had taken a blow, but he was strong.
But she wasn't quite sure how Angel would take the rest. He had been proud of his approaching manhood, and it was gone. But she would come to take pride in her womanhood. But he had been proud of other things, as well.
"Oh, no." His tone conveyed long suffering martyrdom, tinged with humor. "Don't tell me. You always wished you had a daughter to dress up like a doll, take shopping, and share all that girl crud with, didn't you?" He tried to put a note of accusation in the last, but wasn't sure he carried it off.
That hit a little close to the mark. They had only been able to have one child, and sometimes she really did harbor the guilty wish that he had been born a girl. "I'll never tell. But if I did, I guess that wish will have come true."
As he shut off the water, he asked "How's Papa taking it?"
"Before or after the anguished cries that the noble name of O'Connor would disappear forever?"
Angel startled himself by giggling. The name was common to begin with, and he had enough male cousins on his father's side to survive a major war.
Magdalena went on. "He's just happy that you're alive and well, and relatively normal."
"Relatively?" That had him worried.
"We don't know everything yet. You seem fully human, but we'll need the tests to be sure."
"I just got out for the Summer, and already you want me to study for some tests?"
Magdalena sobered. "Not for the tests. But you will have a lot to learn, and little enough time to learn it. All the little things the other girls spent their lives learning."
Angel reached for a towel, and she handed it to him. He started trying to dry his hair the way he was used to, but she stopped him.
"Not that way! You'll never get the tangles out. Dry the rest of yourself first, then we'll deal with the hair."
He dried his body off, his newly sensitive skin reacting more than he expected to the rubbing.
She let him finish, then commented "You'll find it more comfortable to pat yourself dry, instead."
"Now you tell me." he groused.
He wrapped the towel around his waist, and stepped out.
"Not like that!" she told him. "You've got a lot more to cover, now." She yanked the towel off him, then rewrapped it in a more feminine way. She debated wrapping his hair in another towel, but decided to just bring it along. Another practical lesson.
When they got to the bedroom, his aunt and his cousin Janey had just finished changing his bed.
"The boys are downstairs," his aunt informed him. "And they will stay there until I tell them otherwise."
"They know you don't mess with Mom!" agreed Janey.
His mother guided him to a chair and sat him down. "Close your legs, dear. You're a young lady now."
Janey stifled a giggle, as he snapped his knees together. He gave her what he hoped was still a dirty look.
His mother took a large, wide toothed comb and started combing out his hair.
"Ow! What are you trying to do ... pull it all out by the roots? Besides, I thought you used a brush for this sort of thing."
"No, you use a comb first, to get the knots and tangles out. Between your toweling it, and letting it dry this much, it is harder than it needs to be."
Janey jumped in. "And I bet you didn't condition it, either!"
"We'll teach you about that. If you condition your hair when you wash it, it won't be as hard to comb out. Then, while your hair is still wet, you comb it out to untangle it. After that, you can brush and dry it. Just doing that may take you half an hour or so in the morning. Still, you'll learn." She left her daughter's hair a bit damp, and moved on.
"Now it's time..." she announced, with a glint in her eye.
His aunt opened the closet, revealing a full length mirror on the inside of the door. His mother stood him up, and turned him toward it. " ... for the grand unveiling!" She whipped the towel off, leaving him standing there completely naked.
"Mother!" he shrieked, trying to cover himself.
"Relax, Angel." She used the halo and wings pronunciation again. "It's all girls here. We just want to help you get used to who you are now. And to help you understand that there's nothing you need to hide from us. You have a lot to learn in a very short time, and you will have a lot of questions. Questions that would have been unthinkably rude and embarrassing to ask us when you were ... in your former life. We'll answer almost any of them."
"We reserve the right to refuse to answer questions that involve someone else," she replied, with mock formality. "And to lie about the personal ones."
They all hugged him, then turned him again to face the mirror.
"Angel, meet ... Angel." his mother said, waving her hand toward the mirror.
Angel was stunned. He had never seen a real naked girl before, except in magazines and pornos. And very few of them. But they were all women, really. Now he was staring at an attractive girl his age, and it was him. After a couple minutes of moving his eyes between his boobs and his crotch - much to the quiet amusement of his audience - he looked at the rest and got more of an overall impression.
He was what his father called an "everyday beauty." He was pretty, in a teenage girl sort of way, but not really a world class beauty. In a crowd of his female (former) classmates, he would fit right in. He was neither plain nor outstanding.
For the rest, he had blue eyes, blond hair (a lighter, nicer color now that it was drying), and distinctly Anglo coloring and features. He had a suspicion about something that was bothering him. He turned to his Mother.
"Why have you been calling me Angel?" He pronounced it the way she had.
"Because now you look like an Angel O'Connor, instead of your old self. It is common for people to change names when MORFS changes their sex, and if you really want some other name we can probably arrange it. But the easiest thing would be to keep your name the same and just start saying it the new way. It makes the paperwork much easier, and you already answer to it - even if you don't like to."
"Figured it was something like that." He shrugged. "Now what?"
"Now, we get you dressed. Starting with these." She held up a rather skimpy pair of panties.
A week ago, he would have enjoyed the sight of them. Now, they just seemed ... inadequate. He swallowed and breathed, then put them on. He was surprised how well they fit, and how nice they felt. "Whose are they?"
"Yours. When we saw how you had changed, we measured you and did a little shopping."
She handed him a bra. Up to now, it had been a kind of a game. Somehow, this made it real. One minute he was standing there, holding it, and the next he was curled up on the bed, crying his eyes out.
"It's no fair! I don't want to be a girl. I can't be a girl. I'm a man, dammit! I had plans!"
His mother held him lightly, rocked, and cooed soothingly. "That's right, cry it out. It isn't fair. None of it is. The move, the change, all of it. You did everything right, and it still happened. You've earned the right to a good cry."
Through the haze of his emotions and tears, he saw that she was crying, too. He hugged her to him, and cried until he was cried out. Drained.
"There. Feel better now?"
"A little. But why am I losing it like this? I never used to cry like that. Maybe when I was a baby, but still... ?"
"It's another part of being a girl. The hormones play hell with your emotions, and you aren't used to it yet. The good part is that it's ok for girls to cry. And sometimes, it's the only thing that helps."
Janey snuggled up to him. "Welcome to the psychotic world of the American teenage girl, An. Just wait till you learn the secret handshake!"
Angel giggled a little through his tears, an odd sensation.
"I kinda know what you are going through. When I woke up with all this," she indicated her fur, tail, and head, "I thought my life was over. And in a way, it was. But I have a new life now, and it will be what I make of it. Sometimes it's fun. Sometimes it stinks. But it's my life."
"How long... ?"
"How long did it take me to get used to it like this?" He nodded. "I still have to remind myself sometimes. Like when some of my former friends say or do something hurtful." She sighed. "But for most of it, it came when I realized that this is it. This is my life."
"So now what?"
"Now, we finish getting you dressed and ready to face the world." His mother replied.
She held up the bra. "I'll show you the easy way for now. But if those things get any bigger, and I bet they will, you will need to learn the right way to do it."
She put the strap around backwards, with the hooks in the front. She closed one hook and had him close the other two. Then she slid it around until it faced the right way. She showed him how to finish putting it on, then adjusted the straps a little.
The top was just a polo style shirt, with the few buttons going the wrong way. He barely noticed the difference. The skirt was another matter. He felt the emotions welling up again, but took a couple of breaths and fought them down again. When it was on, it seemed too short. He felt exposed, even though it went down to his knees.
The rest of the day, he got used to dressing, walking, sitting, and generally moving around like the girl he was. When he went down to dinner, his uncle John and cousin David reacted in ways that told him his initial assessment was right - he had become a pretty girl.
At dinner, his mother announced that his post MORFS checkup would be in eight days, at a clinic near his grandparents' house, about two hours travel from there. They were next on the visit list, anyway. In the meantime, she would be going back to his old school, to take care of some things. She would be back in plenty of time to take him to his checkup.
While she was gone, she was leaving him to the tender mercies of his aunt and cousin, for an intensive "girl boot camp". His parents would keep in touch by phone, but he had to learn to stand on "her" own two feet.
As part of that, he would be limited to skirts and dresses, day and night. It was as much a symbol of his new sex as an exercise in his new skills.
"It won't be so bad," his mother assured him. "Once you learn this, there will be no question about your name. You will look, talk, and act like an Angel O'Connor."
"Yeah," Janey chimed in. "Even the Pures would take you at face value ... Unless you blow it or someone says something."
Angel learned more than he ever wanted to know about eating like a girl - and keeping his girlish figure. With the changes, they had no idea what kind of metabolism he would have. He might be able to eat anything and stay fit, or he might gain five pounds from smelling a piece of chocolate. He hoped that last was an exaggeration, but the way they said it made him worry a little. Besides, who knew what weird things MORFS had done to his insides?
His uncle and cousin also learned more than they wanted to know. Worse, they got drafted into the roles of observer and critic. Their job was to tell him any time they noticed him doing something that struck them as ungirlish. It was confusing, because they knew how easily Janey and her mother slipped into unfeminine behavior when it was just family.
Angel had a big disadvantage, since he hadn't grown up with a sister, and certainly hadn't grown up as a girl. He knew better than to exaggerate the behaviors he associated with girls. He was afraid they would think he wasn't taking it seriously, or he would just offend them. It never occurred to him that such exaggeration was part of the play that little girls used to learn while they were growing up.
But his biggest disadvantage was the feeling of being an impostor. He had all the right physical features, but it still seemed like he was a boy dressed up and pretending to be a girl. He was certain that people would spot him for a fake the minute he went out in public.
Intellectually, he knew that was in danger of being a self-fulfilling prophesy. If he let the fear overwhelm him, his behavior would be unnatural and draw attention. And once that happened, he would be under a microscope. Somehow, that thought didn't make him any less nervous.
The guys were excused, with prejudice, for the rest of the evening. The women covered more personal issues of hygiene, skin and hair care, and locker and changing room behavior. They even covered methods and options for hair removal from legs, armpits, and pubes.
He nearly lost it again when they taught him how to insert and remove a tampon, making him practice a few times. The feeling of something going inside him where he never expected anything to be able to do so was just too disorienting.
By the end of the evening, Angel was overwhelmed, and thoroughly embarrassed. His teachers had been completely frank, almost brutally so. And they pushed him into equally frank discussion of his breasts and genitals, using informal language. And talked about the contexts for different levels of frankness and language.
After the instant effects of the pills he had used during his transition, it seemed to take forever for him to fall asleep that night. Maybe it was all that had happened, and all he had learned. Maybe it was his worries about the future and the loss of his past. Or the unfamiliar feeling of his nightgown. While he was contemplating the question, he barely noticed himself slipping off to sleep.
After a brief war council, the others went to sleep as well.
Angel woke up confused. Everything felt wrong. He was in the wrong room. In the wrong clothes. His chest felt funny, and he couldn't feel his morning flagpole. And a part of him expected to see his mother there.
Then it all came back. The move. The MORFS. The sex change. The lessons.
One thing hadn't changed, however. He got up to take care of his urgent morning business. He was careful to wipe as he had been taught. Thinking about that, and the things he would be doing to get ready to face the world every day, made him realize that he had been dropped into a much higher maintenance life than the one he had enjoyed before.
Then he thought about his cousin Janey, and realized that it could be worse. She had all the upkeep problems he had, plus all that fur and the tail to care for.
He tucked his hair into a shower cap, then took a shower. He remembered what he had been told, and was too wrapped up in the process to do any real exploring.
It was funny. In the MORFS porn, the horny guys turning into girls or halfies couldn't wait to start playing with their new goodies, spending what seemed like hours in an extravagant variety of masturbation and self-voyeurism. But now that he was living that "dream", he could wait. He supposed that, if he expected everything to change back soon, he might have been more eager to explore. But he was pretty sure he had the rest of his life for that.
Besides, his privacy was limited.
When he returned to his borrowed bedroom, he found an outfit spread out on the bed for him. The skirt and blouse were a little nicer, which probably meant he would be seen by someone outside the family. The panties were even smaller than the previous day's, and the bra seemed a little nicer as well.
He dressed as quickly as he could, ran the brush quickly over his hair, then headed for the kitchen. While they ate, he learned that the morning would involve a trip to the mall for some more shopping, and that after lunch, his mother would start her drive back.
It was a given that Janey would be going along. She knew what girls were wearing, and what the clothes said about them. Even Angel knew he wouldn't want to look like he's been dressed by his mother. Boy or girl, that was social death.
Besides, she needed to do some shopping of her own.
For reasons he didn't understand, his mother did not want him to gather much attention while staying with his aunt and uncle. So they decided that they would not walk around together. Instead, they would walk separately but nearby and keep in touch by cell phone. Each would have her mother with her as more of a distraction and excuse. If the two pairs were seen to interact, it could be blamed on the mothers. Angel thought it was over reacting a little, but went along with it.
Before they left the house, they briefly reviewed mall behavior. Then Janey gave her the best tip of all. "If you act too boyish, we just shake our heads and comment on how much of a tomboy you always were."
The wisdom of that approach became apparent by the time they reached the third shop. Angel and his mother went in first, without any reaction. Then Maria entered, with Janey following.
Two couples suddenly surrounded Janey. "Hold it, freak," the taller girl demanded. "This is a 'humans only' shop. Your kind isn't welcome here!"
The other girl joined in. "In fact, your kind shouldn't be in this mall at all. Maybe we should have our boyfriends here show you the way out."
The boys moved in, menacingly. "Well, are you leaving, or are we escorting you?"
"Are you sure you want to do that?" Janey asked, moving as though she was drawing some power for an attack.
"Oh, sure, squirrel girl. We knew you when you changed, remember. You don't have any powers." Even standing back in the store, Angel could hear the contempt in the girl's voice.
"Sometimes powers take some time to show up. Are you sure you're willing to risk their nuts against the awesome Power of the Squirrel?"
The boys hesitated briefly. The girls stepped in toward the smaller Janey. "Are you willing to risk us ripping that tail off and stuffing it down your throat, freak?"
"Is there a problem here?" A deep voice rumbled.
"Nothing we can't handle," snarled the taller girl. She turned to face the source of the voice as she continued. "We were just about to show this..."
She found herself facing a literal bull of a man, in a mall security uniform. Eight feet tall, heavily muscled, sporting sharp horns, he was enough to intimidate even the two football players.
"I suggest the four of you move on, then. You're obstructing shoppers."
The four looked like they were going to say something, but turned and left. The guard turned and looked inside the shop. "Everything ok in there, Shirley?"
"We're fine, Leon. Thanks for coming so quickly."
"S'ok, Shirley. That's what I'm here for." He turned to Janey. "How about you, Janey? You ok?"
"I'm fine, Mr. Meyers." Janey babysat for the Meyers a couple of times, when she was younger. Long before she went through MORFS. She had never been particularly concerned with what people looked like, with or without MORFS ... then or now.
Janey also knew the four. They were members of one of the more abusively anti-MORFS churches in the area, and hung around with the daughter of the preacher. They made trouble for a lot of people, but they also had an in with a number of powerful members of the community. They weren't as powerful as they liked to think and act, but the difference didn't help all that much.
The confrontation cast a pall on the shopping trip. Angel had a few new, useful things and had proven he could pass as the girl he had become, and as someone who had not gone through MORFS. It was time to go back to the house.
When they got back, Uncle John was at work, and David was at a friend's house. Janey called to let him know they were back.
Angel's mom was more than usually thoughtful. Angel was more than a little shaken. Janey and her mother, having gone through it before, were a lot more composed.
Janey reassured her relatives. "I knew they wouldn't do much. They were already banned from the mall once, when they were caught on a security camera roughing someone up. That was only for a month, and the police report didn't result in a prosecution, but their parents were told in no uncertain terms that any more incidents would be met with much more severe punishment. And were held responsible for the damages."
"A torn blouse, cleaning bills, and a damaged display. They got lucky, 'cause they might have had to deal with medical bills, too."
"What did the parents do?"
"Not much, at first. Paid the bills. Made the appropriate noises. That kind of thing. A couple tried to blame the victim, but too many people had seen the tapes."
"Well," her mother added. "After they learned a couple of things, they kept the boys on a short leash for a while."
Janey laughed. "Yeah. SOMEone," she looked at her mother, "reminded the coach that a charge, or even a formal complaint, would make them ineligible for their sports. They have fair grades, and they're not stupid or anything, but they are both really counting on sports scholarships to get in to the universities they want, and especially to pay for it."
Maria adopted a look of exaggerated innocence. "However they found out, they also found out that the coaches couldn't cut them any slack. Apparently, that could disqualify the whole team for the year. Or longer. Who would have guessed?"
"Yeah, who'da guessed?" Janie giggled. The giggle came across as part chitter.
Angel got drafted into helping with lunch, amid comments about it being part of his girl lessons, while his mother got ready to leave.
Over lunch, he learned that his mother would be back in time for his appointment, but not much before. The day before the appointment, his aunt and uncle would drive him over to his grandmother's house, about an hour and a half by freeway, and visit for a while.
His mother said her goodbyes, then drove off. A part of him wanted to run after the car, crying and begging her to take him with her. He imagined it vividly. He knew perfectly well that he was safely within the arms of family, still. But there was still the fear.
His aunt had to go to work for the rest of the afternoon, so she left Janey in charge of his training. She decided to work on informal talk. She tried to make one thing very clear: "Girls describe problems to share them. If we want help solving the problem, we ask after we share."
"So what do I do, how do I respond?"
"You encourage her to go on, and make it clear that you understand. Maybe you tell a similar story, to show that you understand."
They practiced a bit, but it soon moved to a discussion of the events at the mall and the problems with those people. They had just started when David came home, looking disgusted.
"Uh, oh. What happened, oh brother mine?"
"Reverend Hate is at it again," he spat, showing them a flier for a rally and concert that evening, featuring some speakers from around the country. At first glance, it almost seemed reasonable, promoting values like Family, Health, Education, and Human Rights. It was only when Angel realized that the group used such phrases as code words for something far less wholesome, that he understood David's reaction. He was particularly annoyed by the perversion of "Human Rights" to mean the "rights" of those who have not gone through MORFS to discriminate against those who have.
"Y'know," Angel started, "this would be a really good time for some Divine Justice." Due to his name, Angel had always been fascinated with concepts like warrior angels and extravagant Punishments From Above. His cousins were used to it.
"Yeah," Janey agreed. "A good, old-fashioned plague on them."
"Better yet," David rejoined, "a modern plague. Just imagine all those Pures getting MORFS at once. I wonder what their preaching would sound like then?"
The got into some intense, if fantastic, brainstorming. Janey kept up with the training by reminding David to watch for "un female" behaviors by Angel, and she would do the same. A few times, David called things that Janey overrode but reminded Angel of the differences between behaviors among families, female friends, and mixed public settings. Angel was surprised at how few mistakes he apparently made.
The new MORFS would have to affect adults and teens, but not those who have gone through the change or were about to. It would most readily effect those who were genetically resistant to the "normal" forms of MORFS. It would spread through physical contact, like a handshake, but not angry, momentary contact like a slap or a punch. It could go through thin layers of cloth, like shirt sleeves or cloth gloves.
It would be latent for a while, say, two or three weeks, making it difficult to tell when they were infected. During that time, it would be particularly contagious but would not produce any noticeable effects. After the change, it would be less virulently contagious, but would still be somewhat so.
The effects on adults would be relatively mild, for practical reasons. Their body hair would become fur. Bald spots would fill in with fur as well. At two spots above the forehead, the hair roots would fuse to form small horns. Their ears would slowly grow taller and pointed. And their vocal chords would atrophy.
The kids would be harder hit. In a nod to their anti Evolution rhetoric, they would end up resembling chimps. If they got the bug from an adult, they would change sex. If they got it from a peer, they would either keep their sex or become halfies. They would have to relearn how to talk, due to the changes to their faces.
While they were debating, and putting in parts of what they had gone through, Angel had been feeling a mild, excited tingling. He just shrugged it off as a part of his new body's reactions to the emotions. He found it more difficult to dismiss his growing desire to attend the rally and meet the speakers.
"Are you out of your mind?" Janey practically shrieked, when Angel announced his determination.
"You have to admit, it would be a good test. The others ignored me, at the mall. I should be able to pass as an unchanged girl there, and I'm not likely to do anything especially stupid. I just feel like I have to do this. I need to see them, be able to recognize them."
David broke in. "I know a couple of guys who are going, for pretty much the same reason. They could kinda look out for her."
Angel felt a momentary surge of panic. "What have you told your friends about me?"
"That you went through MORFS, and turned Anglo. And that you didn't seem to have any cool powers or anything. We were warned about discussing anything more, while you were changing. Other than that, you're just another out of town cousin."
Janey agreed that she had limited her comments similarly, even to her best friend.
They called their mother, and told her that Angel would be going to a concert with a couple of David's friends, as an exercise in being out in public. There was some back and forth, but she knew the boys in question and trusted them (to the extent that she trusted any teenaged boy). She finally agreed.
He was not entirely happy with the resulting preparations. He had to learn more about dressing for something like a concert, and the difference between dressing for "going with friends" and dressing for a date. He also had to learn about applying - and, more importantly, fixing - subtle makeup for such events.
David quickly left to call his friends and watch some tv, keeping himself out of range of "all that girly stuff" they were doing. Janey took advantage of that to teach Angel one of her old secret weapons - puppy eyes. With practice, he got it. But he still felt a little foolish using it.
One of David's friends called, asking if Angel would like to go early and help with the setup. "She" would have a better chance of meeting who she wanted to meet, and be less visible arriving and leaving. Angel thought that was a great idea.
A little part inside of him was screaming that it was NOT a good idea! Wondering what the Hell had happened to him - to his judgment? Wondering what he was becoming. But that part was largely going unheard.
The boys arrived, and introductions were made. After getting his cousin's cell phone, they were soon on the road. En route, they explained that they were part of a volunteer pool for a number of groups in the area. While they were known to be Neutrals, they were valued for their skills and experience. If they were willing to work the event, they were welcome. Their reputation convinced people that they would not work against the event in any way.
They got his word that he would not sabotage the event. They understood that he was just trying to test his ability to pass among the Pures. They didn't know how profound the change had been, but they didn't really need to.
Once they were there and checked in (Angel with an assumed name), he was assigned gopher duty. This suited him fine, since it would give him legitimate excuses for anonymous contact with the speakers and organizers. He still didn't understand why he wanted to touch those people, but he did.
As he set out pamphlets, programs and fliers, he looked at what they said. As he got more and more upset, he used the image of those people being subjected to the Divine Retribution as a way to keep the appearance of support. He used the image even more intensely when he was dealing directly with the speakers. He had no problems finding excuses to touch them. But when he did, he felt an odd little pulse in his hand. He was so upset about those people and what was going on that he dismissed them without much thought.
He had pretty much finished his rounds before the rally even began. Which turned out to be a good thing. About 45 minutes into the rally, his phone rang. It was his aunt, and she was furious. She made it clear that he was to leave immediately. He offered to have one of the boys drive him back, but she refused. He was to get to the parking lot, where she would pick him up.
He checked out, citing a family emergency, and headed for the lot. On the way, he reflected on the idea that he was ready to leave anyway. By the time he got there, she was pulling up at the service entrance.
All the way home, he was treated to a nonstop lecture on the stupidity and danger of his little jaunt. Once they got home, she expanded her attack to include her own children. She found a suitably female punishment for him: cleaning. The kitchen, then the bathrooms, then vacuuming the carpets. He accepted the judgment and punishments with suitable humility, and apologized repeatedly.
There was one advantage to the timing. He was back in plenty of time for the calls from his parents. His aunt declared that there was no point in worrying them, so she wouldn't mention his lapse and he shouldn't either.
He later found out that he was not the only one engaging in risky behavior. His mother had gone back to take care of some things while she still had access. Specifically, to take care of his records.
"'Lena! What are you doing back?" Annie, the new lead, asked delightedly.
"I had to come back to take care of some paperwork, and I realized that there were a couple of things I hadn't shown you. They are not likely to come up often, but when they do, you need to know what to do."
"You want all of us?"
"No, just you. If they do come up, you'll need to do it personally and confidentially."
They set up in a closed office, and Magdalena started to explain.
"Sometimes, for a number of reasons other than MORFS, a child will change sex. It may be that they were intersexed to begin with, or transgendered, or they might have been hit with some strangeness from some battle between supers. That kind of thing. In such cases, you will get a court order or government directive to change the records. Instead of handling it like a MORFS sex change, you actually go in and change the records."
"There's a program here for doing most of it, but you will also have to change some of the paper records. And be sure that the order goes in the locked files, not the student's folder. Ok, so far?"
"Sure. I saw that thing last year about the girl caught in the crossfire, and I wondered how we would deal with it."
"Yeah. By the way, make sure you teach your successor about this. It should be restricted to the lead and the Superintendent."
"Now, here's the way you access the program. You'll need one of the biometric enabled machines as well as the password. Make sure you don't have the password written down here anywhere. Aw, heck ... you already know that. Since I'm already out of the system, we'll need to use you. Now, I'll need to use a live record to show you how to do things, so I'll use Angel's. That way, if we screw something up the parents won't get mad at us."
They both laughed at that, while she pulled up his records.
"The first thing is the name. Most of the time, they will want to change it. If it stays the same, just click here." She demonstrated. "It will search the records and let you know if there is another student with the same name."
She went on, showing her the options and explaining the functions. In the end, they had a record completely consistent with a female student. None of the grades, and few of the classes changed. That was made easier by the fact that most of the PE classes were coed.
Next came a scan of written comments and disciplinary notes, correcting for gender as needed. In this case, it was just a matter of changing a few "he's" to "she's", and one mention of "other boys" to "boys".
The program accessed the systems at the individual schools to change records of gym locker assignments and the like. In this case, it could not make some changes due to the fact that they had lived in other jurisdictions before middle school.
She finished the process, then the form that would be filed with the original order. Then she immediately went into showing her the other "forgotten" procedures.
When she mentioned needing to get another copy of the transcript, to carry to Angel's new school, Annie gave her a significant look. Then smiled. After it was printed, signed, and sealed, the day was pretty much over. Magdalena invited Annie and her SO to dinner, her treat. She accepted, and they made plans.
By unspoken agreement, they didn't say anything more about what had happened.