Chapter 2

Our biggest and best discovery over the summer was that I could change at will. It was easier, in the beginning, when I was angry because I could let go of the process and just let it happen. When I was not angry, I tended to overthink things and that seemed to make it harder, to stall the transformation.

By the time school rolled around again, I could change at will, but was having trouble controlling how much I changed. I mean, I knew, through experimentation, that I could just grow about halfway and stop there, I had done it a time or two, but it was really hard. The results were mixed too, with odd imbalances and glitches, like left side strong, right side weak, and things like that.

It was almost reflexive to change and let it continue to do its thing until I was hulked out, but much harder to do it in stages. The problem is that hulked out, I was eight feet tall and had an arm span of nine and a half feet. It would be nice to be able to grow just enough to handle a problem because, fully grown, I was massive, and strong enough to uproot a sixty-foot oak tree that dad had wanted cut down.

We were going to do just that, cut it down with a chainsaw and then chunk it up so we could split it later, for firewood. Instead, at Mike’s suggestion, I just hulked out and squatted, grabbing it around the trunk and straightened my legs again, ripping it right out of the ground!

We had planned on using a couple quarter sticks of dynamite to free the stump after we cut the tree down, but this worked even better. The only problem, from my point of view, was that I sank, calf-deep, in the dry, rocky ground under the tree! That Newton was a pain in the butt!

Speaking of hulking and training to hulk... (I need a new term for that, it sounds geeky!) I had a real problem with clothes. I showed my titties to Mike so many times that I thought he was going to get blisters on his dick. I felt kinda bad, like I was teasing him, but not bad enough to help with it though, gross! Don’t get me wrong, he didn’t, like, whip it out and start jacking off, he was discrete, going to the bathroom or taking really long showers, but ... it wasn’t hard to figure out.

We experimented and Mikey found some material, in town, that stretched really well. It sort of worked. I mean, it would stretch enough that I wouldn’t show my bits, but my bits would be so tightly wrapped that I might as well have been nude. I looked like I was wearing colored saran wrap and every bump was showing. When Mike suggested I might want to do a bikini wax, I threw him almost twenty feet, over an amazed longhorn bull, and into the stock pond.

He was okay, the pond was deep enough, but he kept his smart-ass comments to himself after that!

The clothes were that under armor stuff, but for professional football players in size. They sat pretty loose on me when I was normal size, yet I could still wear them under my shorts or my jeans and they would be comfortable. The sleeveless top was the same, but in a 5XL size for fat guys. Yeah, Mike ribbed me about that too, but it would also fit under a knit polo or a button down without bunching too much or making me look fat.

Dad had spent quite a bit of time in town over first couple weeks of August and, when it was time to go and register for school, he sat down with us.

“First things first. Kate, you have to register. They aren’t enforcing it yet, but if you don’t, you have no protections from the Bureau. They are calling it Control, but whatever the name, they are the government and will have their way no matter what. On the plus side though, you can get help from them, some legal protections if something gets damaged, that sort of thing. I don’t have all the details, I was focusing, and got Frank to focus, on what was legally required. We’ll do that tomorrow and get it over with.

“Now, sweetheart, I need a straight answer from you. Do you have this thing under control? I mean, enough to go to school? If some boy pats you on the fanny, you know you need to let it go and report it, right?” I could tell he was teasing me a bit, but there was a very serious undertone and I didn’t take offense.

“I am as in control as I was last year, before the craziness, dad. I promise. My ... emergence, or awakening or transformation, what they call it depends on who you talk to, it was ... it was traumatic. Since then, I have transformed a thousand times, even doing it when I was mad to make sure, and never once did I lose control.”

Mike cleared his throat but was looking innocently at the ceiling when I glared at him. I did not lose control, I was aiming for the stock pond, the little perve.

Dad nodded his head and turned to Mike. “What about you, Mike. You were the little brother. Your brothers, well, I loved them boys but they could be a handful, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they made a few enemies along the way. You can’t be fighting their battles and you can bet one or two might like you to try. And you can’t call on your sister to beat them up for you,” he told my brother with a grin.

“Aw, pa, can’t I get a couple of freebies? I know a few guys she might like to pound for me.”

“No, Mike, no freebies and you, Kate, no pounding guys. Christ, that sounded bad even to me.” Dad said, shaking his head while Mike and I laughed.

“What about Mrs. Greeves, dad? She’s the new principal now, right?”

“She and I came to an agreement. It seems that Peter Coombes had something on her, and the Sheriff had something on Peter. Doesn’t matter what, but she could not act like she knew she should last year. This year, things will be different. If they aren’t, for some reason, or you have troubles, you just come home and tell me, understand?”

My first trip into town since the Fourth of July was the day before registration, and we went in so I could get some clothes! I was wearing cut off sweat shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt that had been the twins. I had taken most of their sports clothing, in fact, and had been wearing them over the summer. I absolutely refused to go in to a government office and do that registration thing, in cut-off sweats.

I must have looked a sight, cutoff sweats and flip flops, but I had put some makeup on, put my hair in a loose pony tail and my skin was bronzed from the summer sun, so I hoped it wasn’t too bad.

I got a lot of looks, let me tell you! Some were people who knew me, or knew who I was. Some were just people staring at the huge, stacked bitch in the mall, and there were some loud-mouthed, cat-calling assholes there, let me tell you.

I got more than a few looks from women too, some of them speculative and some admiring, but more than a few freaked out or disgusted. I just tried to concentrate on the ones I hoped were positive and ended up chatting with a couple of them who came up to compliment me and ask about my workout.

Butch and Butcher were the biggest surprise of the day, sidling up to me and doing everything but presenting themselves like bitches in heat.

“Wow, Kate, you are looking good girl! Hey, I know we had our differences and yeah, I came off like a total cunt our freshman year, but I have changed, you know? I just want to say sorry, let bygones be bygones. Our junior year is coming up, eh? You look like you could hit some serious homers if you came out for the team? We would even keep the others off, you know, initiations and stuff.”

“I’m okay with the bygones part, but I don’t think I am playing ball.” I told her, flexing a bit to make sure she got both messages. I think that turned her on instead of intimidating her, if I had to go by her nipples. She had put on some weight, and not in a good way and her little buddy, butch, had lost weight. Made me wonder what these two had going on all summer, but fuck if I was going to ask!

They could be helpful though, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to get directions.

“What shops have stuff for bigger girls?” I asked, flexing again. “I need something that doesn’t bind up when I am lifting.” I lied. I had tried working out, lifting at home like I used to with the twins’ weights, but I found I was already maxed out on what we had available and had to add some buckets filled with concrete to even get a warm up. I tried benching Chesty, our bull, but he was not having it! I was scary strong even in this form, before I transformed!

Butcher, the bigger of the two, just said she shopped in the guy’s sections and never wore a bra as they were evil creations of the misogynistic patriarchy, whatever the hell that was supposed to be. I mean, I knew the definitions of the words, but somehow, I didn’t think they added up to what she wanted them to mean.

I made my excuses and bailed, heading into Victoria’s Secret to ditch them. I was right in assuming they thought the place was the work of the devil or something.

Turns out, it was a fortuitous guess! Oh, they didn’t have anything I wanted in my size, but one of the sales women told me about a store in town that had just opened up for special needs. I bristled at that, but she grinned at me and ran a finger down my bicep.

“It is for people who changed during the Night of Madness. They opened in Capital City and it was an instant success, so they announced they are opening twenty locations across the country this year! Instant millionaires. Think about it, beautiful, where else could you go if you have a tail or wings? What about if you fifteen feet tall or maybe just fifteen feet wide? They specialize in outfitting those hard to fit folks. You are nothing like those folks, but big enough to need some help and they might be just the folks you need.”

The shop was in Austin, an hour away, but dad said it was okay to make the drive. I was just glad I was a truck gal and not into those little cars like the Miata. After my change, I was just a bit too tall to even climb in one of those, but I fit my truck just fine, thank you very much! My dirt bike, on the other hand, which had already been a bit small for me, was up for sale.

It was, amusingly enough, called “Ch-Ch-Changes” and was exactly as advertised. They had some nice-looking stuff, and I saw chairs made backless, some with holes for tails, even some smaller and larger than normal for other folks. We didn’t have a bunch of folks in our area, but there were at least three I had heard of with special needs. The back half of the store was completely devoted to custom work with sewing machines and layout tables and even industrial cutters and lasers for exotic materials!

A woman in a very chic business suit with her steel gray hair up in a bun, greeted me as I wandered closer to the custom area.

“Good afternoon! My, you are a gorgeous one, and so fit! I imagine you have problems finding things that fit you just right.”

“Yes, ma’am, I sure do. I, um, well, I heard that you do special orders?” I asked quietly, looking around to see if anyone was listening. I hadn’t told anyone, outside our family. Maybe Debbie knew or maybe she was telling the truth and saw nothing, but she hadn’t returned my emails or the texts I sent, so right now, it was dad and Mike.

The woman looked at me speculatively, then smiled and laid her hand on my forearm. “I’m Elaine Madison and this is my flagship store. I have an office that would be more private, would you be more comfortable talking there?” When I nodded, she turned to lead me back and I couldn’t help but gasp. She had a tail! I long, tiger-striped tail, but in greens instead of orange and black.

She obviously heard me, as her tail twitched back and forth a couple of times as I followed. It fascinated me and excited me too. Oh, not in a sexual way, although it was sort of intriguing, but in an inclusive, people similar to me, kind of way.

Her office was small and filled with catalogs. Some were clothes, other materials or hardware and still others were furniture catalogs. She offered me a seat and perched herself on the front corner of her desktop.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare, I guess I was just nervous. I haven’t told anyone yet. This,” I said, waving my hands down my front, ‘is not it, not by far. I hulk out. I get just over eight feet tall and wider, more muscular with longer arms. I couldn’t fit through that door or into a chair like this if I was full grown right now.”

She looked surprised and gave me a good looking over, shaking her head. “That must be tough on the wardrobe. Can you control it? I mean, is it something you can do or is it something that gets triggered?”

“I can control it. I mean, when it happened the first time, it was ... you know, um, traumatic and stuff. Now, though, I have practiced and I can control when I transform. I would never leave the ranch if I couldn’t, it would be too dangerous!”

The woman’s smile got warmer, more friendly. “Good, good. So, talk to me. What are your needs? What are you looking for?”

“Right now, I use those Under Armor clothes for big men, like football players. Only, I get bigger than any of them and they are super tight. They look painted on and you can see everything. I mean, everything. The only difference between them and nude is the color.”

She giggled and nodded her head, obviously picturing it. “There are some guys who would pay big money to see that, I imagine! Anyway, I don’t think we have anything on hand right now that would help much with that, not without bunching up and making you look fat instead of fit when you are regular size. I have some contacts and I am making more all the time, so let me make some calls and see what I can find. In the meantime, there are some things you can do.”

I am glad she was a woman because I would have been way too embarrassed with a guy discussing the things we did. She showed me that not only small women have issues, and was able to point me to panty shields for big women and bra liners for big breasted women who are breast feeding. They were both thin enough to disguise what was underneath without being bulgy and uncomfortable if worn under my clothes. My nips and bits would be disguised and not all out in people’s business when I was transformed!

It wasn’t a perfect solution, but did wonders for my self-confidence when I tried them out at home. Mike was disappointed and that made feel even better, the little perve.

I had a few outfits, mostly shorts and polos, but they would pass muster at school and that is what counted at the moment. I made sure to change into a decent set, with some fancier, leather flip-flops, because shoes were another issue for me. Maybe guys’ sneakers would work for now?

The Control office in Austin was near the Capitol building and only about twenty minutes from my new favorite store. It didn’t look like much, I mentioned, but Mike had it right. They had taken over an existing building to use for now. It was too soon for them to have done much more than that, after all, it had only been a couple of months and they had the whole country to look after.

The office was posted with a sign that said it was open seven days a week, 6AM to 6PM for registrations, per the order of the Bureau of Mutant Control.

The place was packed! There were enough seats for about forty people, all full. There were at least a dozen standing in line too, and one of those number machines with a big screen on the wall displaying was up next. Mike just shook his head and shrugged when I looked his way, so I made my way through the crowd to the number machine and saw that it was at 175. The number on the big screen was 49.

Nope. No how, no way, not on your life was I waiting all day just to get sent home. If they couldn’t get their shit together any better than this, they could wait and I would register some other time. I gestured towards the door with my thumb and Mike just grinned, nodding his head.

We almost made it too. In fact, I was pushing open the outer door when this little red head was pushing inside. She was wearing a smart business suit and looked about twelve, but she had to be older than that, right? I held the door for her and she looked up at me with surprise, cocking an eyebrow and giving me a very obvious once-over.

“You are a big one, aren’t you? Finish your registration?” Her voice was soft, almost musical and something about it was very attractive. In fact, she was very attractive and I wanted to talk to her, even if it was only to ask her to read the phone book for me.

People were backing up behind both of us and, after looking obviously at the lines forming, I jerked my head towards the outside where there was more room and figured if she was interested, she’d follow us.

Once Mike and I were outside again, and I felt like I could breathe again, I felt calmer. I was not afraid of crowds or anything, but we live in a small town and I am not used to a bunch of folks all at once outside a theatre! Hell, even our theaters only sat about a hundred people, tops!

“I’m Catherine Lane, and I am an evaluator with the Bureau of Mutant Control. Sorry, I should have led with that before I started asking questions. I was just coming back from a meeting and saw you leaving. You are a mutant, yes? I can see that much, you are too ... Perfectly formed, to be anything else. Is this your permanent form? I mean, is this how you look all the time?”

Okay, this was getting a little ... I paused, shaking my head. No, she wasn’t getting pushy, it was her job and it was why I was here in the first place, right?

“Sorry, but you said you work for the Bureau? What does an evaluator do? As for your first question, back in the door, no, I haven’t registered. I am from a town an hour away and I wasn’t about to take a damn number and wait all day only to be told to come back. I will register after the rush is over. Not like it is a big rush, right? The television says they can’t actually do much for you yet, or to you, for that matter, so it can wait.”

She looked surprised, but nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose you are right. We won’t fine you for not registering, and I doubt it will ever come to that. No, The Bureau is more about what we can do for the mutant population, not to them. We are encouraging everyone to register as soon as possible because we really need more information. We need to know how to classify people, find out if they are Paladin class or if they have abilities that can help people.”

“I heard them mention that on television, but they were a little vague about what a Paladin class mutant really is.” Mike interjected.

“It is broadly defined as any power that can aid the general public in an emergency. More specifically, Paladins are those mutants powerful enough to help the government battle Rogue powers, and who have the power to be a game-changer during natural disasters or other emergencies. The requirements are rather loose at the moment and we have been given pretty wide latitude to designate people as Paladin class, but they will all be subject to review later, as we learn more and narrow down classifications.”

“So, that Texas Ranger guy was definitely paladin, but the glowing man they showed on the news, is not.” Mike clarified, looking for her reaction.

“Generally speaking, yes. The big powers, like super strength, speed, invulnerability, or offensive capabilities like that man with the laser eyes or the Ice Queen down in Miami with her super cold breath. Then there are the Chameleons, they have all been classified as Paladin class so far, though we recognize that might not always be the truth.”

“Sorry, but Chameleons? Like, they can change colors, camouflage?” I asked, giggling at the thought of having two independent eyes and a long tongue.

She smiled and shook her head. “No, not quite. Chameleons change, yes, but not color. There are some that change from XX to XY, or XY to XX, a couple that stay the same sex, but change appearance and powers. The terminology is host and guest, with the host form being the original and the guest being the one they change into. All of them have powers in addition to the change that help the classification, like being able to fly in guest form, even if they can’t in their host form.”

“So, just changing form means you are one of these Chameleons, even if you look almost the same, but, say, a different size?” I asked, fascinated despite my discomfort about discussing this with a stranger.

“Wait, you ... you are a Chameleon? Oh yes! Please, will you come back inside with me? I have been hoping that I would get a chance to talk to someone who was a Chameleon! Is this your host? No, wait, this is your guest, right? Are you much shorter when you are in your host form? I heard of one with as much as six inches difference, and that is amazing! Do you...”

I threw up my hands and backed up a step, in surprise. She was out of control!

“Look, um. Mizz Lane, was it? Look, Mizz Lane, I don’t feel comfortable discussing my private affairs in public and I don’t even know you!”

She looked shocked for a minute, then reached for her lapel with a determined look on her face. Her hand patted her lapel, then her pocket, then the other lapel with her eyes never leaving mine. When she couldn’t find what she was looking for, her face began to turn from white to red, as if she was embarrassed. She held up a finger and looked down at her suit jacket, even pulling it away from her body like she was looking for a stain or something.

In a flurry of movement, she searched all of her pockets and finally came up with what looked like a laminated card. She thrust to towards me triumphantly, only to show me the backside that was covered in print too small for me to read from more than, probably, nose tip distance.

When I smiled at her and pointed at the card, twirling my finger, she cocked her head and focused on the card for a second before finishing the conversion from pink to bright red. She spun it around so I could see the front side.

The cad had her picture, an official-looking seal, and with “Bureau of Mutant Control” on it, plus her name. Doctor Catherine Lane, Deputy Director for the City of Austin, Head of Evaluations and Classifications.

“Look, miss, we got off on the wrong foot, but I really would like you to come in and let me interview you. I will walk you right past that crowd in there, no waiting, promise,” she looked so earnest that I was having a hard time saying no to her. Mike didn’t help when he whispered in my ear that she was cute.

Yes, Mike. I know she is cute, thank you very much. Mike, of course, knew about my preferences and we actually had very similar tastes, as creepy as that sometimes was.

Then a thought struck me. “Hey, on the television, they said that Paladins could be anonymous, right? So, they could have a secret identity? But if you drag me back in there, past all those people waiting, they are going to see me and remember me. They are going to be angry too. I am a private kind of person, and I want to help, but ... I don’t want people to know it is me. Could we go and have some coffee, or, Mike and me haven’t had lunch yet, can we do this somewhere else?”

She looked mulish for a second, then nodded her head. “Yes. Yes, we can do that. Will you give me five minutes? We can do the initial interview anywhere, but you will have to come back with me, or set up an appointment or something. There are parts, if you are a Paladin, that have to be done here. The computer records, the photos, the ID, phone ... lots of stuff I can’t do in a restaurant.”

Jesus Christ on a rubber crutch, this was just not funny anymore. Nothing was easy! Mike became my favorite relative again when he asked the right question.

“Isn’t there another door to this place? A back door? No one would see you go in that way.”

We both turned to stare at him, me feeling hopeful and Mizz Lane looking like someone smacked her on the head.

“Of course, there is, and thank you, Mike, wasn’t it? Thank you, Mike. If you two will give me a moment to find out where it is and who has the key, I will be right back. Wait for me, promise?”

The back doors to the building were actually a loading dock that was a floor beneath the street entrance level. We took a freight elevator up one floor and came out in an area obviously used to store maintenance equipment, cleaning supplies and old furniture. From there, it was threading through a maze of office spaces until we walked through a frosted glass door with the barely seen outline of “Immigration and Naturalization” where the letters used to be on the door before someone peeled them off.

Finally, we were safely in an office with Ms. Lane and another woman who she introduced as Shirley.

Once we were all seated, Ms. Lane smiled brightly and turned to her assistant.

“Shirley, hold on to your corset, this young lady is a Chameleon!” Shirley’s head snapped around and she stared at me for a moment, a big smile on her face.

“You finally got your wish, eh?” she asked, then turned to me again. “Welcome, welcome! You are making my boss a very happy lady.”

“Okay, let’s start off with the administrative stuff. Name? Age? Address? Student, I guess? What grade? Family? Did you have anyone else in your family affected by ... Oh, my! I am so sorry to hear that, Katherine. Kate? Okay, Kate. Let’s see, do you know anyone else, outside of your family, who was affected? Not personally but ... I see. Oh? OH! Wow, um, this has been hard on you, hasn’t it?”

It went on in this fashion for half an hour or so, until I felt like she had asked about everything but my sex life (non-existent) and my fantasies (none of her business!).

“Now, Kate, we need just a few more things. This is not mandatory, but we would like to have a blood sample and urine sample, for our database. We are still trying to figure out how this all works, and the more data we gather, the better. You can have them drawn at your family doctor or local clinic, and they will bill us and ship the samples to us. And don’t you worry, even if the old HIPPA laws didn’t guarantee your privacy with medical issues, the new federal laws make it a felony for them to ever disclose or discuss anything relating to a patient with a mutation of any kind.

“Last, but not least, we need pictures. Four of you as you look now, and four of you in your guest form.”

Okay, I admit it. I froze up a bit. Mike was smirking at me, the jerk, but he was family and had seen more of me than anyone but my mom. These were strangers. No stranger had ever seen me nude. Even my gynecologist had only seen parts of me! Okay, so with my stretchy shorts and shirt, I wasn’t going to be nude, but the next best thing to it! I guess I was going to get to find out if those shields Mrs. Madison gave me would work or not!

I sent Mike out of the room. For some reason, him being there was making me even more nervous that I already was. When I stood up, Ms. Lane had me stand against a measuring tape that was glued to the wall, and face forward, to each side and then from the back. Six feet, one inch tall, and then onto the scale where I clocked in at one-seventy-eight pounds.

Then, blushing at the surprised look on their faces, I took off my shorts and polo shirt to reveal the wrinkled and baggy under armor muscle shirt and shorts, then transformed. My change wasn’t instant, and there was no flash or glow or anything like that. I just seemed to expand very rapidly, or so it appeared when I watched in the mirror. I just got big and bulgy with muscle!

Ms. Lane and Shirley both gasped and Shirley sort of collapsed back into her seat again, staring up at me. I was mostly looking down to see if my nips were showing, but was too embarrassed to lean over and look at my crotch. Instead, I tried to calm the blush I am sure was making me beet red, and looked at Ms. Lane.

She seemed fascinated and ... she was turned on! Her nipples were poking holes in her jacket, I could see them from here, and she was perched on the edge of the desk, her thighs rubbing together like a cricket. When she noticed what she was doing, she hopped up and got all flustered, but the fact that she had been turned on seemed to calm me down!

“I had to get nursing shields to hide my nipples ... this shirt gets so tight that you could see every little bump.” I told her, trying not to giggle at her reaction. “Heavy panty liners for large women too, or it was obvious I haven’t waxed recently.”

I didn’t wax, ever, but she didn’t know that and her eyes went right to my bits and I was glad for the shield. I could feel myself getting a little damp and it surely would have shown through the thin material.

“I have the woman at the specialty story looking for new clothes that are not as tight as these when I am transformed.” I told her, then quieted down and waited while she worked herself back around to why we were here.

“You are ... amazing, Kate. Simply breathtaking.” She said quietly, then shook her head to clear it. I’d crouched down when I started my transformation, though it hadn’t been strictly necessary. The ceiling in this office was about ten feet and I was only just a tiny bit over eight feet tall according to the tape on the wall. Eight feet, one and a half inches tall, and the scale said I weighed three-hundred and sixty-four pounds transformed! That was more than two times what I weighed normally!