Chapter 2: Transition (Mort)

I was too shocked to speak. The doctor was muttering, that there was nothing to worry about, and other semi comforting nonsense.

I barely heard him. "But ... I ... How!?" I stammered.

The doctor gave me a sympathetic look, "Despite what your father believes, there is nothing supernatural about MORFS. The fact that your family has been relatively unaffected by the disease was no guarantee this would always be the case. All it takes is the right infection to trigger the syndrome. The fact that most of the rest of your immediate family haven't undergone MORFS is sheer luck." He paused a took a pad out of his bag, "I'm going to prescribe some energy packs, which will help your body get through the illness quickly."

He wrote some trademark doctor unintelligible scribble on the pad, tore off the sheet, and handed it to my sister.

"I don't recommended you try and get that locally", he commented dryly. "For one thing, the local pharmacist refuses to stock it, and it would also attract unwanted attention."

He turned to look at me. "I am well aware of your situation, and normally, in the case of a minor such as yourself, I would be required to inform your parents of you current condition. However, in this case, I feel that would do far more harm than good. Cheer up, its not the end of the world, you know. There is a good chance you will come through this unscathed. All that matters now, is to let the sickness run its course, and take things from there."

He smiled faintly, gave me a pat on the shoulder, then stepped out into the corridor. My sister went with him, and I could hear them talking, but I was too much in shock to try and overhear what the were saying.

What was I going to do! Right now, I could be turning into a monster! What would happen to me when my father found out? I was terrified.

A few moments later my sister came back into my room. "Lets get you into your pyjamas, then I'll head in to town to pick up your medicine," she said, helping me out of bed and handing me my bed clothes. "Don't worry too much. I'm sure things will turn out fine"

I got changed and she helped me into bed, giving me a hug. Stepping out of the room, she returned with a basin, which she put by my bed. "I'm going to leave you this, in case you feel sick again. I'll have my phone with me if you need me. Try and get some rest, and I'll be back soon." She gave me a small smile before heading off.

I did my best to sleep, but my headache had returned with a vengeance. Thankfully, my sickness seemed to have subsided a bit to a general unwell feeling. Somehow I managed to doze a bit, and a few hours later, my sister returned with a bag of medicine.

She said handed me a plastic medicine bottle full of ominous brown liquid, "OK, you need to drink this down, and then take one of these pills to help you to sleep"

I knocked back the bottles contents grimacing at its horrible taste. "Yealch!", I exclaimed.

"Well you know what they say, if medicine tastes nice, it doesn't do you any good," my sister quipped. "The pill should knock you out. I'll try and be here when you wake up, but if I'm not, make sure you take another dose from the bag. Dr Benson said it will make the disease pass quicker and easier."

"OK," I took the pill she handed me.

I lay back, and my sister leaned over and kissed my forehead. "Sweet dreams Mort" she said with a smile as I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

When I came to, it was dark, the middle of the night. I still felt awful. In addition to the sickness and headache, all my muscles ached. I looked around and saw my sister sitting on a chair across from my bed fast asleep. I decided not to wake her and quietly gulped down another bottle of the gunge and popped the pill, and it was back to unconsciousness.

When I next surfaced, it was midmorning. I staggered out of bed and made my way down to the bathroom. I felt very odd my pyjamas were pinching me everywhere. I noticed my skin was covered in a layer of ooze. 'Maybe that caused my clothes to shrink.' I reasoned. I answered the call of nature, then took a quick shower. I had a quick look in the mirror while drying off, but didn't see anything odd. My hair looked a touch longer, but hopefully I could get through this and no one need ever know.

I put on my bathrobe, and headed back to my room to find my sister changing my sheets.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Pretty awful"

She gathered up the dirty sheets, adding my pyjamas to them. "Well take your medicine, and get off to bed. You'll feel a lot better to get it over with."

As she headed out to take care of the washing, I grabbed another pair of pyjamas, downed another bottle of medicine and took a pill. As I was drifting off to sleep it occurred to me that these pyjamas were pinching too.

I woke up in the middle of the night again. My sister wasn't there, but I can't say I blamed her. I can't imagine sleeping on that chair was comfortable. My bed clothes were pinching some more, especially around the hip area. I tried to get more comfy, but gave up and took my meds. Chemically enforced sleep claimed me again.

The next day I awoke to quite severe pain. Rather than the headache or nausea or muscle pain I'd had previously, this pain was caused by my pyjamas cutting into my flesh. In the night they had gone from pinching, to cutting off the circulation. I managed to get them off, having to rip them in a few places to get free. Feeling relief at having circulation restored to my limbs, I grabbed my bathrobe and staggered over to the bathroom. My balance seemed even worse than the day before. After cleaning up I checked my reflection. My hair was longer, and I realised I was taller.

I realised I was changing more radically than I had hoped, and fear was threatening to surface. Still, hopefully, if I slouched a lot for a few weeks, and got a hair cut, no one would notice. I could pass off the extra height as a growth spurt. Yes, I was so sure that would work that I suppressed the rising panic.

My sister had left some clean sheets out, so after I slipped on a large t shirt, changed my bedding. As I was gathering up the old sheets to put them in the washing basket, Gwen wandered in. She picked up my ripped pyjamas, looked at them for a bit then gave me an appraising look.

"I think I got a bit bigger" I said. My voice cracked halfway through speaking, and I coughed to try and clear my throat.

Gwen gave a small frown. "Yes you must be a good 3 inches taller. I thought you looked a bit bigger yesterday, but wasn't sure."

Suddenly feeling very weak, I stumbled back a bit. My sister grabbed me and held me steady. Then she helped me into bed and handed me my meds. After I knocked them back, I passed out again.

This time, when I woke up in the night, my face, my hands, my back, my feet and a few other bits of me itched. I scratched absently, then jumped in pain. My nails seemed to have become really sharp. For some reason, my vision was all blurry, and it being dark I couldn't see much. I figured my nails were growing like my hair. I grabbed another bottle and pill, and went back to sleep.

In the morning, I followed my usual routine and headed to the bath room. I noticed the skin that had been itching last night was beginning started to peel, and it also had a sort of bumpy texture to it.

My nails had changed colour and more alarmingly, had become pointed. I was not happy with that.

I dried off and checked myself out in the mirror. I was taller, had talon like nails on my hands and feet, plus, my proportions were odd. My hips seemed wider. I had the same patches of bumpy peeling skin down the sides of my face and neck, joining into a patch down the middle of my back, with bits on my hands and feet.

Then I saw my eyes! They seemed to have no irises. Being large black pupils, they looked inhuman. As I stared at them in horror, it got worse, as a thin film flicked across my eyes. Part of me calmly realised it was a nictitating membrane like you see on lizards. The rest of me was horrified.

With a high pitched moan, I collapsed to the floor.

Gwen came rushing in. "What is it! What's wrong?" she exclaimed.

I regarded her with my inhuman eyes, realising I no longer blinked. "I'm turning into a monster," I wailed.

My sister grabbed me, and held me. "No you're not. No matter what father and his cronies would say, you are not a monster!" More gently, she said, "Come on, back to bed. Let's get this over with. We can deal with the future, then." I was soon asleep again.

I woke up late, or possibly it was early, depending on your point of view. I scratched my face, and felt the skin peel off. The surface underneath seemed more bumpy, and felt odd. I forced my hands away, not wanting to know. In the process I brushed my chest, discovering another aspect of my change, two protrusions on my chest. Breasts, small breasts, but undoubtedly there.

Hurriedly, I reached for my meds, half praying this was some delusional nightmare brought on by the sickness. If not, I wanted to be safely unconscious before I discovered any more horrific changes.

I woke up feeling odd, but no longer sick. I was finally finished with the change. Now I had to face the twisted creature it had made me.

I pulled back the covers and stood up. The whole room looked smaller, I had obviously grown some more during the night. I looked down at myself. The once tent like t shirt, was now very tight across the chest, and barely came down to my hips, which seemed to have widened considerably. I needed to see the extent of the damage, I needed a mirror.

I left my room, padded down the corridor, and went into the bathroom. I decided to get it all out of the way in one go. so I quickly whipped off my t shirt and, mentally bracing myself, turned to face the mirrors.

A girl stood there, naked, staring at me. A freak girl, who bore an uncanny resemblance to my sister.

She was tall, with what could probably be called an athletic build. She had reasonably sized breasts and wide hips, making her body pretty sexy and pleasing to look at. Her hair was shoulder length and very light brown. Her crotch was obviously feminine, but had no pubic hair.

As the girl in the mirror reached up to cup her breasts, I saw that her hands were strange. She had black nails, like talons, and her hands were covered with scales. The pads of her fingers looked odd, not scaly, but certainly not skin.

The scales which were a light brown, with a white speckle pattern to above her wrists. Her feet matched her hands, and she also had a stripe of scales down either side of her face and neck, running over her shoulders.

As she turned it became apparent that the two stripes joined, becoming a patch of scales running down the middle of her back, stopping just above her full posterior.

Her face was both gorgeous, and a bit scary, much like the rest of her. Her eyes had no visible iris, making it look like she had two very large pupils. Her eyes were unblinking. Every now and then they flickered, as nictitating membranes flashed across. Her lips looked very kissable, but as she licked her lips, her tongue seemed to stretch out way too far.

I felt my hand cup a handful of soft firm flesh, and felt my new chest being cupped by a small hand. I looked down, seeing my scaly hand gripping my newly grown bosom.

The disconnect between the girl in the mirror, and me came crashing down.

She looked, I looked, simultaneously beautiful, exotic, and frightening.

I collapsed to the floor, shaking uncontrollably. When I screamed, even my voice was different, higher and softer, even with the anguish.

When Gwen came running in and saw me on the floor, she grabbed me and held me, gently rocking me back and forth as I sobbed endlessly.

After a while, I calmed a bit, and was able to talk through my tears. As I did so, I realised my tongue felt odd. I feared I had gained a forked tongue to go with my other demonic qualities. Though from what I could see, the tip though slightly misshapen, was not forked.

"Why is ... this ... ha ... pening t ... to me?" I wailed. "I always prayed, and was good like Uncle Richard said. Why is God punishing me by turning me into this sub-human monster"

"Now you mustn't think that way, Mort!" Gwen lightly stroked my hair. "You are not a monster!"

"But Uncle Richard..." I started.

"IS WRONG!" Gwen interrupted, making me sit back in surprise "Mort, this isn't a curse from god, or any kind of punishment. It could happen to anyone. Uncle Richard has always preached hate against those changed by MORFS, and his hate has poisoned your thinking. The Bible teaches love and understanding, Uncle Richard and father have twisted that message for their own ends."

I looked deep into my sisters eyes, and saw only love and compassion. I also felt a strange warm feeling radiating from her, like warm sunlight. I wasn't sure what that was, but it comforted me. I hugged her some more, and cried a bit, but I was beginning to feel a lot better. As long as my sister still loved me, there was some hope.

When she helped me up, I realised I was slightly taller than she was.

"You must be at least 6 foot tall now!" She sounded as surprised as I was. "None of your old clothes are likely to fit, maybe some of mine will."

I abruptly realised I was completely naked. I made an attempt to cover myself, but Gwen told me, "Don't be silly. You have nothing I haven't seen before. And besides, we are all girls here now."

She led me to her room, and sat me on her bed. "I guessed you would need these from the way your changes were going." she handed me an unopened pack of plain cotton panties. "Hopefully I can find something else for you to wear. You'll have to go without a bra for now, as I don't think mine will fit you."