Copyright© 2009 by StephanieB
I woke up slowly even though the alarm was right beside my head and was screaming for attention. I silently chastised myself for yet another late night as I hit the snooze button for 'just five more minutes'. It was a relatively new habit, but was really starting to take its toll on me. Thirty seconds later the alarm was screaming for attention again. At least that was what it felt like.
This time I actually looked at the blurry red digits and cursed. I'm going to be late again and I know I'm going to get an ear full from Mom. At least I didn't have to think about what to wear. My school uniform was the typical gray wool pants, white shirt, tartan tie and black dress shoes. Just like everyone else. In record time I washed my face, brushed my teeth and hair and I headed down the stairs expecting to be chewed out from Mom again for being late.
Instead I found the house empty. Since breakfast was out of the question, I grabbed a cereal bar and looked for my school bag. I found it at the front door, with a note from Mom on top of it:
I had to go into work early today. I put some money in your bag for lunch. See you for dinner.
Great! Now I have to fight my way through the lunch crowd for vending machine food. This day is off to a wonderful start already. Now if I could just get through the gauntlet. That's the name that my friends and I had given the time between arriving at school and first bell. That was the time when there were far too many people in the halls and far too few teachers to monitor them.
Stepping out of the house and locking the door I looked at the sky. Dark gray clouds threatened rain. I just hoped it would wait until I got to school before it started, but I already knew how my luck usually went. As I walked through the doors of the school my wet shoes made squeaking sounds on the floor. I got three quarters of the way to school before fate turned on the sprinklers. There was nothing I could do about the soaking wet pants and changing into my gym shoes was not an option either. The teachers didn't accept any deviation from the dress code. At least not for the boys! The girls seemed to be able to get away with a little variation, but not much. At least they had the option of long pants in winter and skirts in the warmer weather. We just had to sweat it out in wool pants all year long.
I made it to my locker without incident, and found Tyler already waiting for me. Tyler had been one of my friends before he morfed last year. Back then he was a skinny, short kid just like me, and just about as unpopular. MORFS had been the best thing to ever happen to him. MORFS didn't give him any powers but it turned into something like a Greek God. He was now about 6 feet 2, blond hair, blue eyes, very athletic build and very popular with the girls. This year he had joined the football team and was having an almost perfect season. He was even holding his own with some of the physically enhanced members of the team.
"Hey Cam, you got it?" he asked. There was no need to explain what 'it' was, we both knew and there was no need to broadcast it to all the people near by.
"Yeah, I have it." I pulled the memory stick out of my shirt pocket and handed it to him.
"This had better be an A, or I'll be looking for yeah!" The standard warning, I didn't expect anything less these days. With football, girls and hanging out with the other Neanderthals from the football team, Tyler had started to use me as his own personal assistant. This was the thirteenth essay I had written for him this year. Well, the year was almost over and Tyler was looking at a full football scholarship if he kept playing at this level. Since I was heading to a technical college I wouldn't have to deal with his type again, I hoped.
"Of course it's an A, exactly the same as the last one. Have I ever let you down before?"
"It better be!" With that, Tyler walked away with the essay and my dignity. What could I do? At 5 feet 5 inches and only 125 pounds, it's not likely I'd be able to hold my own in a fight. I could only see two options available to me. Hope for a major growth spurt or maybe get lucky and catch something that would trigger MORFS. At eighteen, neither of these seems likely anymore. I know other people have gone though MORFS as late as their mid twenties, it's just that they were rare and most of the time without pleasant results.
"What was that all about?" an all too familiar voice behind me said.
I turned and looked in the direction the voice came from and said to the blank wall, "just paying my life insurance premium."
Bill laughed as he literally popped into view. I have no idea where the popping sound came from, but it was a cool effect. "You need to stand up to him one of these days. If you two get caught you'll both get expelled!"
"Yeah, like that's going to happen. Standing up to him worked out so well for you, didn't it?" Bill didn't like to talk about the beating that Tyler had given him when he tried to stand up to him. Not that he had to worry about that anymore. MORFS had given him the ability to avoid any physical attack just be not being there. I still can't figure out how he's able to talk without any physical body. The popping sound every time he used it was weird too, but what do I know about MORFS.
"Well I hope you've been keeping a record of all the work he's been making you do. You know, just in case it does get out"
"Of course I am. I'm not that stupid." Not only did I have a copy of every piece of work, I also had all the references, source material and a recording of most of the hand offs. I had big plans for that stuff. It was a risk making the recordings, but I thought it was worth it.
I threw my book bag into my locker and pulled out the ones for the morning classes before Bill and I headed to home room. "So, what does Mr. Pollard have in store for us today?"
"What ever do you mean?" The sarcastic, innocent tone was a dead give away. Bill had been popping in and out to check all the upcoming mid semester tests the teachers where giving everyone. It was our little advantage, and the only way I was keeping my good marks with the added work load.
"Come on! Spill it, Weasel." I said. "I know he's been prepping for something."
"Stop calling me Weasel, you know I don't like it." Bill pleaded. Ever since he got MORFS and picked up his little disappearing act I'd been calling him Pop Goes the Weasel, or just plain Weasel. Mostly because I knew he hated it.
"Well, you come up with a better nickname and I'll stop." It had been six months since he had figured out how to activate his power and he'd hated my nickname for him from the start.
"Pop quiz tomorrow on the War of 1812," Bill said, avoiding the subject again. "Nothing to worry about and I already send an outline of the questions to you. You should have it in your mail."
"And you talk about me getting expelled!"
"They have to catch me first," laughed Bill.
Science class was up first and was my favorite subject, but today I was just not into it. I was too tired and couldn't concentrate on anything. Fortunately, Mr. Lewis liked me and knew I'd pick it up anyway, so I was fine. English was another story. Ms Gilbert seemed to have it in for me. She constantly would say, "You have such potential if only you would just make an effort." Today was no different with the exception of me being so tired! By the time that we broke for lunch I just wanted to sleep. I didn't even want lunch, which was a good thing as the vending machines all had long lines at them. I wouldn't get anything even if I was hungry. I just sat at the table with Bill and put my head in my hands. It was nice to just rest for a minute. That was until I heard Bill's distinctive pop. My head was up and I was looking around for the reason when I say Tyler heading my way, and he didn't look like he was going to thank me for the essay.
"You are fuckin' dead meat, Camilla!" I hated that name and it wasn't even that imaginative, but I've learned not to expect much from Tyler. I was frozen in place and just too tired to do anything anyway. As he got closer he threw the memory stick at me and said, "The dam thing's blank idiot. You gave me the wrong one."
I pulled out the second memory stick I had in my pocket and looked at the ID tag. I had given him the wrong one. All I could thing of was, "this is gonna hurt!" As Tyler pulled me to my feet and started to drag me out of the cafeteria for the beating that he was going to enjoy a little too much, I was overwhelmed with nausea and felt dizzy.
"I'm gonna puke!" I warned Tyler. Not surprisingly, he didn't care. That was until I threw up on his pants and shoes! I was lucky that a teacher had heard Tyler yelling at me and saw him trying to pull me outside when this happened.
"What's going on here!" demanded my savior. I just wished that I could thank him instead of throwing up again. It was around this time that the whole world went black.
I woke up for the second time that day in the nurse's office and smelling like an open sewer. I felt even worse, if that's possible. The nurse saw that I was awake and came over to me. The name tag on her uniform said Gail, or Dale or something. It was hard to focus. I was about to start asking questions when my Mom walked in. 'Gail' turned to my Mom and said, "It's okay Mrs. McMichael. Cameron seems to be feeling a bit ill."
Wow! What an understatement. I feel like death warmed over.
"William Smyth and Mr. Benson brought him in." Bill hated the name that name more than Weasel, but that was what his parents had registered him at the school as and all the teachers and staff called him that. "William was telling me that Cameron's been tired since this morning and suddenly passed out in the cafeteria at lunch." Not entirely the truth, but it's not like Tyler was going to get into trouble anyway. At this news my Mom sat on the side of the couch. I have to give her credit; she only wrinkled her nose a little when she got a good whiff of me but didn't say anything.
"How are you feeling now, Cam?" she asked. "Do you think you can make it to the car?"
The car? I was wondering if I could make it to a sitting position.
"Now that you're awake I'd like to do a quick test," the nurse said. She pulled out a small box and attached it to my finger. I was just about to ask what it was when it stabbed me.
"Ouch! What was that?" It was more of a surprise than painful.
"Oh sorry, I should have warned you. It's a blood test kit," she explained. "Standard procedure for this kind of thing."
"For what kind of thing?" my Mother and I both asked at the same time.
"When we suspect MORFS," she said as if it happened every day. Mind you, with over 2000 teenage students in the school I guess it was fairly common.
My mothers face went white. "Do you think it's MORFS? I thought he was too old for that now?"
"Oh no, It's perfectly normal for someone his age. And his symptoms do match."
The test only took a few minutes to come back positive. YES! Something good came out of this day after all. However, from the look on Mom's face you would have thought I had a deadly disease. I remember hearing of all the deaths from long ago, but not anymore. I'm sure people still died from MORFS, but not as long as they got treated for it. And that is exactly where we headed, after I changed clothes. Thanks Mom!
The wait in the hospital wasn't as long as I expected, or maybe it was just a blur because I was so out of it. The next that I remember was getting home with the attached arm mounted IV unit and blissful, dreamless sleep. I woke up late in the afternoon and still felt terrible, but nature called and I had no choice but to answer it. After I finished and was washing my hands I looked at myself in the mirror. I didn't look any different. Maybe it was still too early for any changes yet, I hoped! Once back in bed I replaced the canister in the arm unit and fell back to sleep. The next time I woke up I felt a lot better, not quite over it but better. This time I didn't look into the mirror as I wanted to be completely finished with any changes before I saw the new me. On waking the next time I looked at the arm band unit before anything else. The status indicator showed that Stage 2 was now completed and the unit had automatically removed the needle and shut off. I grabbed my tablet from the night table by my bed and looked at the date and time. This can't be right! I've only been out for a little over two days. I removed the arm band unit and headed for the bathroom. I looked into the mirror and immediately wanted to cry. I looked the same! It's not fair!
Getting MORFS, felling terrible, being out cold for over two days and nothing! Not even a change in my eyes or hair color, damn it! Well might as well let Mom know, she'll be relieved. But first, I needed a nice long hot shower to make me feel human again.
"Hi Mom," I said as I hit the bottom of the stairs. She was sitting at the kitchen counter with a cub of coffee and the morning paper, just like most days.
"Hi Honey, are you feeling better this morning?"
"Yeah, I'm just really hungry. I thought that it always took three days or more before you where up again?" Like Mom would know. She avoided MORFS as much as possible. She never caught it herself when she was a teenager and never bothered to look into any of the information that the school regularly sent home on it.
"Well I guess you're just lucky that way" she said with a bit of pride in her voice. Lucky wasn't how I would have put it. I was hoping for some major changes. Muscles would have been nice, or a few inches taller. Hell, I'd have even liked some sort of hybrid or, better yet, a gender change. Anything would have been better than ... me. I had actually thought a lot about MORFS and the possibility that it might turn me into a girl. There were actually a few Twisty's that I knew of in our school. Girls turned into boys or the other way around. Being calling a Twisty started as an insult and they took the name and used it like a badge of honor. I could have accepted being a girl.
"Do you want a ride to school this morning, or are you going to walk?" Damn, it was still only Friday.
"School? No one will be expecting me back until at least Monday!" I can't believe Mom still expected me to go to school after this.
"But you look fine and I don't want you just lying around the house doing nothing."
"Shouldn't I be going to see the Doctor again? I thought that I needed to get a post MORFS scan, or something." At least that would put off school for another day.
"Fine, I'll call and make an appointment at the clinic for you this afternoon. But you'll have to go on your own. I have to get to work." And yet another classic move from Mom to avoid MORFS at all cost.
If I wasn't so hungry I would have just gone back up to my room, but I needed something to eat. So I opened the fridge and started pulling out the eggs and bacon, my standard when I had time to cook it. Mom left me to my breakfast and headed into the spare bedroom she used for her office to call the clinic. Three eggs and way too much bacon later I was finally full and Mom was off the phone.
"You have a 2:00 appointment at the King Street MORFS Clinic," she stated coldly.
"King Street, that means I have to go all the way downtown! Why can't I just go to the one by the mall?" It was a really cool looking place with all the latest scanners and even had a full time telepath on staff. The receptionist that could be seen through the front doors also looked really cute with her neon green hair.
"That place is a private clinic. Medical insurance only covers the cost of the downtown one. You know we can't afford to pay the difference for the other place." Money has been really tight since Dad left us. He was paying child support payments to my Mom, but that stopped last fall when I turned eighteen. At least we still had the house and didn't have to move out after the divorce. I still can't believe he left us to be with his new girlfriend. I don't know what hurt Mom more, that Cindy was a cat hybrid, or that she was about ten years younger.
"Okay Mom, I'll be there." There really was no other option. The only other clinic was even further away and in a really bad part of town. That was the free clinic run by the hospital and it catered to the really poor or homeless in the city. People went there only if they had no other choice.
"I have to get going or I'll be late for work," she said as she grabbed her purse and headed for the door. "Call me from the clinic if you need anything." She gave me a brief hug and kissed me on the forehead as she left to catch her bus. I still bothered me that I was eighteen, had likely stopped growing and I was still shorter than my own mother.
Oh well, at least I had about fours hours of quality online time before heading to the bus. I went back upstairs to my room to get my tablet and log into the net. I could still pretend to be anything that I wanted to be online. It's not like anyone could find out what I was doing online anyway. The computer took a few minutes to start all the applications and connect to the net. I was still dreaming of the day that I would be able to buy a new one, or even an eCom. The computer beeped as it made the connection to the online chat room that I had secretly been a member to for about a year now. There were several messages waiting for me to look at, but I was more interested to see who was online at the moment. Before I could even say anything in the chat room the instant message screen popped up.
'Can you talk?' it was from Burnout. We had been chatting online almost from the day I created my online account.
I typed back, 'yeah for a little while'.
'Cool' pop up at the same time that the incoming call indicator flashed. I hit answer and said, "Morning, how are you?" One of the other programs instantly altered my voice to what everyone online thought was the real me.
"I've missed your sexy voice, where have you been?" Burnout had a deep sexy voice that reminded me of my Dad's. I just hoped that it was his real voice and not simulated like mine was.
"Oh I've been busy. You know usual stuff", first rule in keeping this illusion alive was never to give out to much personal information. You never really know who you could be talking to. No matter how long you've been talking online.
"So when are we ever going to get together?" This had been a common theme with him for that last few weeks. Either he was starting to suspect something, or the last few sessions had really got to him. I just smiled to myself from the memory of the last one.
"You know my schedule is crazy." This was just another stalling tactic that I had used maybe once too often.
"Babe, for you I'd make the time. You know that" He always knew just what to say somehow.
"So who else is on today?" I thought it was a good time to change subjects. I hated to keep putting him off, but it's not like we would ever be able to meet now. This was another reason that I was hoping for a better outcome from MORFS.
"You just missed The Wiz. He just signed off. He said something about needing to get some sleep if he was going to be able to do anything at work."
"Aw, I love talking to him. He has such a beautiful accent." The Wizard of Oz was from somewhere in Australia, of course, and the time difference usually meant we missed each other a lot.
As we continued to talk I checked my messages and replied to most of them. Later we entered one of the chat rooms and caught up with a few of my other online friends and what they were doing. Before long it was time for me to say goodbye to everyone and head to the clinic. The ride was uneventful, thankfully, and the short walk to the clinic from the bus stop allowed me to enjoy the cool spring day. As I got closer to the clinic my heart sank. There was a small group of protester outside with picket signs. REPENT was written on one and ABOMINATIONS TO GOD on another. I stopped reading any more of them. I just looked at my shoes as I walked down the sidewalk and then made a sudden turn into the clinic before anyone notice that was my intention. Getting out on the other hand was not going to be fun.
I signed in at the reception desk and sat down and tried not to stare too much. I couldn't help but look at one little girl sitting there playing with her doll. Her mother reading magazine that looked like it was printed a hundred years ago. She was about 10 or 12 and an obvious cat hybrid. All I could do was look at her and think of my Dad. I missed him but Mom was making it hard for me to be able to see him. She still had a lot of anger in her about the whole thing and just assumed that I felt the same way. I looked through some of the magazines as well, but the selection was somewhat limited. I didn't find anything that I was interested in, so I just continued to look around and day dreamed. Shortly after the little girl and her mother where called into one of the examination rooms, my name was called. The nurse showed me to a small room with two chairs and an examination table that looked older than me. I sat in one of the chairs and waited.
"Hello," the doctor looked at the name on the tablet with my medical records to find my name. "Cameron McMichael, is it?"
"Yeah that's me." Great, he didn't even look at my name before coming in.
"And you're here for a post MORFS checkup?" he continued as he read further into the chart. "When did you go through MORFS?"
Didn't this guy read anything from the chart before coming in? "I tested positive at my school on Tuesday. The hospital gave me an arm unit and it turned off this morning."
The doctors eyebrows did a funny little dance before he stated the obvious, "that's less than three days!" Oh wow, we have a math whiz here people.
"Yeah, I know," my impression of this guy was steadily going downhill. Not that it was very high to start off with.
"Well lets take a look at you," as he indicated the examination table. I waited for a second for him to replace the disposable cover until he said, "Come on up you get. I don't have all day."
"Fine," I thought and sat on the table. He started with the standard doctor stuff like blood pressure, heart rate and listened to my breathing. Then he pulled out a hand scanner and passed it over my body. Thankfully I didn't have to get completely undressed. He looked closely at the readout on his medical tablet.
"Everything looks fine here, nothing extra and nothing is missing," his attempt at humor was lame and definitely not appreciated. "Let me see if the telepath is available."
He stepped out of the room and left me waiting for the next level of embarrassment. I was confused when the door opened again and another boy about the same age as me walked in. "Can I help you?" I asked a little annoyed. Who is this guy and why is he coming in.
"Hi Cameron, my name's David. I'm here to scan you for any powers that you might have gotten from MORFS." How could this guy have enough experience to be able to scan anyone?
"How old are you? How long have you been doing this?" It's not like I had any idea what kind of answer I was looking for but it just sort of came out. If I did have anything I wanted to make sure that they got it right. This whole experience has been just a big waste of time.
"Well if it makes any difference, I'm 23 and I've been doing this for 2 years now." It was clear that I had struck a nerve with David. I guess he got this type of comment a lot. He didn't look 23 and I have no clue how long it takes to become trained at reading people.
I looked at the floor and said, "Sorry." I didn't know what else to say. I just wanted to get this over with.
"It's okay. I get that a lot," the tone said that is was anything but okay. "Let see what we have then."
"What do I do?"
"Nothing, just try to relax and not think about anything." He looked at me for a second then closed his eyes. Suddenly my scalp became very itchy, like there where ants crawling through my hair. I almost started to scratch, but just sat still and let it happen. David opened his eyes and got a puzzled look on his face. "Are you sure you had MORFS?"
What a stupid question. "Of course I had MORFS! Why else would I be here?"
"It's just that I'm getting nothing. The doctor told me that there is no physical evidence of it and now ... nothing."
"Well you can check with my school and the hospital, they both tested me and said it was MORFS." Now they don't even believe that I even had MORFS to begin with!
"I'll have to get the doctor to check." David explained. "If you didn't, you know you will have to pay for this visit. Your insurance won't cover it if it's a false alarm." David left the examination room at that time to look for the doctor. I was getting nervous, if the test was negative I'd have to pay for the check up and I didn't have any money. It seemed like forever as I waited for the doctor thinking about what I would do. He finally came in and took some blood and said I could go.
"Aren't you going to test it for MORFS?" I asked. I had decided that I wanted to know as well and wanted them to test it even if it would mean more money.
"We don't have the equipment here to check for the DNA markers. I'll have to send it to one of the medical labs for testing," he explained. "I'll contact you with the results."
I left the clinic feeling cheated. Did I have MORFS or not? If not, maybe there was still hope for me. But the school nurse and the hospital doctor both tested me and both said I was positive. All these thoughts and ideas where running around in my head and I guess I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going. As I walked back to the bus area to get a ride back home I walked right into someone and knocked us both to the ground. I was about to get angry at the person and vent my frustration at whoever it was that walked into me when I looked at her and stopped.
The girl that I had knocked to the ground was gorgeous. She was about the same size as me but clearly a few years older with dark hair, dark eyes and olive colored skin. She might have been Italian, or Hispanic or half a dozen other ethnic backgrounds. She could even have been some combination of all of them in this city. Her clothes where very sexy and left little to the imagination, although a bit worn. The over the top make up and hair style made it quite clear, even to an eighteen year old for the suburbs, what line of work she was in. I just couldn't stop staring at her eyes, even angry they where beautiful.
"Why don't you look where the hell you going!" she yelled at me. I got up quickly and apologized about a dozen times. As she put her hand onto the ground and attempted to stand she winched. Apparently she had injured her hand when she fell, as I could see some blood on her fingers. I offered to help her up and she just looked at me for a moment and then held out her hand. I immediately took hold of her hand and pulled her to her feet. Obviously she was right handed, even though injured she still used it to get to her feet. It seemed that one of the many rings that she wore had cut into her finger, causing it to bleed a little. It was a minor cut and nothing to worry about which was made even clearer as she inspected the ring instead of the cut to her finger.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"You're lucky that I didn't loose a stone from this," she said indicating the ring. After a brief look of disgust she stormed off, heading to who knows where. I just stood there for a moment in shock. As I started to walk towards the bus area again, I noticed some blood on my hand. After looking more closely to ensure that I hadn't been cut as well, I absently wiped it off on my pants and continued on.
I finally got home after the long ride to find that my Mom was already home and making dinner. I was starving and could hardly wait to start eating.
"How did everything go?" Mom asked from the kitchen without even turning.
"Fine," I said. The standard answer for anything a parent might ask a teenager.
As she turned to ask again, I guess in hopes of a real answer. She just stopped dead!
"What happened to you?"
"What?" as I looked at myself, completely confused.
"You're filthy! Look at your hands and face." I looked, but didn't really notice anything. "Go wash up before dinner, you're not eating like that."
I turned and headed to the downstairs bathroom and turned on the light. I looked into the mirror at myself and idly wondered, "Where did I get a tan from?" My hands and face where both a slight bit darker than normal. I washed both my hands and face to see if it was actually a tan or just dirt, as my Mom has said. It didn't come off, so it must have been a tan. Weird.
"I thing it's a tan," I said as a sat down to dinner.
"Yeah sure it is," was her only reply. "You get into the shower when you done and just try harder."
I don't remember being so hungry in my life. After three helpings in a very short time my Mom said, "Slow down it's not a race you know."
"Sorry," I said with a mouth full of food.
"I guess there'll be no leftovers for lunch after all," she said with a smirk.
"So, how did it go at the clinic? And don't say fine." she asked.
"They didn't believe that I even had MORFS."
"What? What do you mean?"
I told her everything that happened and about the blood test they would be doing to see if it really was MORFS or not. I even had to tell her that they might send her a bill if the test came back negative. While I was explaining things to Mom I couldn't stop yawning. I guess after the long day and eating so much I needed a nap.
"Well don't you worry about that, I have the results from the hospital that shows you did," she explained. "You head upstairs and have a shower."
"Oh..." YAWN... "Kay," I tried to say and headed up stairs. Once in the bathroom I leaned against the counter for support and got undressed, turned on the shower and stepped in. The hot water was very soothing and I didn't want to get out, but I was getting more tired and needed to go lay down. I toweled off in the steam filled room and wrapped a towel around my waist before heading to my room.
The next thing I know I'm awake laying on top of my bed in a fetal position tangled up in a towel. I guess I didn't make it into bed after all. The sun was up and streaming into my room though the window, so I must have slept all night like that. No wonder I feel stiff and sore. I rolled over onto my stomach to get the light out of my eyes when I got a sharp pain in my chest. I rolled back and look down to see what's in my bed that I rolled onto when I saw something that just shouldn't be there. Two shapely breasts on a chest that was several shades darker than my usual pasty white skin.
The blood curdling scream that came out of me was definitely not my voice and just made me scream again. This was a vicious cycle that continued until my Mom burst through my bedroom door. The high pitched screams of a young woman was replaced by two people screaming. At some point in time I realized that I was still naked. I grabbed the towel and tried to cover myself up. Since I was still tangled in it all I was able to do was fall out of bed onto the floor.
My Mom had finally stopped screaming be this time and hesitantly asked, "Cameron? Is that you?"
"Mom, what happened to me?" I was in the edge of blind panic.
She took a deep breath and steadied herself before talking. "It must be from MORFS," she said calmly. Her voice was like a beacon, or a life line for my sanity.
"But why now? Why didn't I change earlier?" This made no sense. I knew that MORFS could do almost anything to a person's body, but I never heard of it happening like this. If you're going to change it was when you're out cold and as sick as a dog, not a day later and over night! The initial shock was wearing off and I was starting to think a little more clearly. An idea just popped into my head and I had to check. I held the towel around me and went to the bathroom to get a better look at myself. I wobbled awkwardly to the bathroom, looked into the mirror and gasped!
It was her ... me! I mean I looked just like the girl I knocked over yesterday. It was one of the details that I had left out of the conversation with Mom at dinner last night. I quickly explained what happened after I left the clinic, the girl that I knocked over, the blood on her hand and how I had got some on myself when I helped her up.
"Well I'll call the hospital and see if we can get you in again," stated Mom. "Maybe they can explain what happened and how." She left me in the bathroom and headed downstairs to call the hospital. I took the time alone to take a better look at myself.
I leaned in closer to the mirror and started with my face. I looked deep into her ... my eyes. Large eyes with large iris that was so dark it was almost black. Looking further down was a small button nose with a cute upward turn at the end. Full lips that begged to be kissed and straight white teeth that hid a pink tongue was next to come into view. My whole face was framed by straight black hair that came down below my shoulders. As I lowered the towel further to see more I got a good look at myself from the waist up. My eyes went straight to my chest. They were smaller that I thought. It must have been the different angle I was seeing them from. As I looked at myself I tried to decide if they where a B or a C cup. Well it's not like I had a lot of experience in that area. I guess I'd find out soon enough.
Now for the moment of truth, I needed to know if the change was 'complete' of not. I dropped the towel to the floor while staring at the image in the mirror. I saw something that I'd only seen in images from the internet, or in my dreams, a female vagina. I just smiled at myself, I was a Twisty. I was happy; I didn't care how it happened or why. I was out of my old dull boring body and dull boring life. I could start over again. All the possibilities just started to fly through my head. I could meet new friends; wear all kinds of new cloths and no more boys Physical Education. That was always my least favorite class in school with all the people who just seemed to like humiliating me, including the teacher. The girls locker room would be a new experience, isn't that every boys dream come true?
I was standing there, naked, staring at my image in the mirror with a smile from ear to ear when my Mom came back upstairs. She looked at me with a confused expression on her face and asked, "You're happy about this?"
I guess it was time to have a talk with Mom. How do you start a conversation with your parent about being a bisexual and gender dysphoric? Well, I guess just bisexual now.
It was the longest talk that I had ever had with my Mom, and the most that I had ever cried since I was about six. I found out that she was more upset about the possibility of losing her son than me changing into a girl. I had to reassure her several times that she was still my Mom and I was still her child, just in better packaging. She laughed at that comment.
We arrived at the hospital after a small delay at home. Nothing fit! We even tried some of Mom's clothes, but I was still too small for anything that she had. We finally ended up with Mom's shorts and sandals and a tee shirt of mine that was way to long for my new shape. I thought I was still the same height, but the tee shirt was now down to mid thigh. A few more inches and I could have used it as a short dress. It was one more thing to add to the growing list of girl stuff to figure out. After the hospital Mom promised to take me shopping for some of the more basic stuff, like bra's and underwear. Right now, it was whatever I could put on to get to the hospital. Walking to the car all I wanted to do was grab hold to stop the bouncing. This was definitely not going to be fun!
The doctor walked into the examination room looking at the chart. As he looked up he got his first look at the two of us and visibly paused.
"Mrs. McMichael, back again?" I didn't even notice that it was the same doctor that had diagnosed me with MORFS just four days ago. "And who do we have here today?"
Do all doctors ask stupid questions? He had my medical charts in his hand for God sake!
"Hello Dr. Bennett," my Mom answered before I could say anything. "This is Cameron, my ... son." That was awkward.
"Oh! Sorry," Dr. Bennett said while staring at me. Sorry for the stupid question or sorry for my new body I didn't know and didn't really want to know. "So you're here for a post MORFS check up then." It wasn't a question as much as a statement.
"Actually no," my Mom blurted out. "Cameron woke up yesterday morning. He went to the MORFS clinic downtown in the afternoon."
"Oh," he was obviously surprised by this. I guess there was nothing in my records about it yet. "You woke up like this yesterday?" he asked looking at me.
"Um ... no," I said quietly. This was going to take a while to explain. Before my Mom could say anything else I launched into the story about going to the clinic downtown. I was tired of Mom answering all the questions for me. I tried to give him as much detail as possible about all the events. I even told him about the blood, being hungry and eventually falling asleep from being so tired and then waking up this morning.
"Okay," Dr Bennett finally said after I finished my story. "It sounds like you got shape shifting from MORFS, but we should be able to check for that easily. You should be able to change back eventually." I decided to keep quiet about that. There was no need to tell him that I didn't want to change back.
The examination was completely different than yesterdays. I was made to change out of all my clothes and into a hospital gown. I held it closed as much as I could, but keep thinking that my butt was showing. I think that I was hooked up to every available piece of medical equipment that was in the place. This included a full body image scanner that made my skin itch as the light passed over me. It felt like they where trying to cook the skin off me. The last procedure was a session with the hospital telepath to scan for MORFS related abilities. At least this time I didn't have to worry if they had experience.
The telepath was and older woman with short stylist gray hair and a friendly face. "Hello Cameron, I hope they haven't been poking and prodding at you too much today," she said with a slight chuckle. "My name is Dr. Paterson, but you can call me Patty."
"Your name is Patty Paterson?" I asked while trying not to laugh out loud.
"Yes it seemed my parents had a strange sense of humor," she explained.
"Are you okay to start, or would you like to take a minute to relax first?"
"No thanks, I'd just like to get this over with if that's okay?" After several hours in the hospital I was starting to get tired and hungry and I just wanted to go home.
"Okay, good" said Patty as she sat in the chair beside me. As she turned to look at me her eyes had already rolled to the back of you head. At least I hoped they had. There was no pupil or iris to her eyes, just white, and I felt the tingling on my scalp again. This lasted for a whole thirty seconds before Patty closed her eyes for a few seconds and then opened them again. This time they where back to normal.
"You have to let me in for this to work," she said. She sounded a little annoyed, but not much. I suspected this had happened a few times before.
"How do I do that," I asked. I had no idea I could keep a telepath out, never mind how.
"Just relax and when you feel me try again think about opening a door."
"Okay," that sounded too simple to work, but I would give it a try. Patty closed her eyes for a few seconds again and then looked at me with those weird eyes. I could feel my scalp tingle and I visualized in my mind opening the front door to our house and waited. Patty just stared and I continued to wait. It was a lot more than thirty seconds this time and Patty face was making all sorts of strange expressions. I got the impression things weren't going well. Patty closed her eyes again and the tingling stopped.
"That's odd," she said with a puzzled look and stood up. I was about to ask what she saw but she turned around and walked out.
"That was rude," I thought but my idea of telepaths had always been up there with actresses and artists, a little strange to begin with. I sat in the examination room for what seemed like a long time until Dr Bennett came back in with my mother.
"Okay, now would you like to tell me who you really are?" It sounded like a trick question and I had no idea how to answer it.
"What do you mean?"
"Well we did every test available for MORFS and from what we've got back it seems you've never had it," he explained. "It also seems that Dr Paterson wasn't able to see any signs of MORFS abilities. She was initially looking for shape shifting, but continued to look for anything at all. There wasn't any."
I'm sure my mouth was hanging open and my mind was numb. How could this be possible?
"Also you have some very interesting memories. An abusive father that you ran away from in your mid teens and a life of drugs and prostitution ever since."
"I have no idea what game you're playing but I don't find it funny at all." He was completely serious. The look on his face and the anger in his voice made the painfully clear.
"But Mom," I pleaded. "You saw me yesterday. We had dinner at home and I fell asleep in bed last night."
"I know dear," she said. "I remember. We'll figure this out." At least she believed me.
"No Mrs. McMichael," Dr Bennett continued. "This isn't your son. This is some sort of impostor trying to take advantage of you to get away from her messed up life."
"No, you're wrong," my Mom said. She sounded like she was starting to get angry with the doctor. "I know my son. I don't know that much about MORFS, but I know that person is my Cameron."
You go Mom! I've never felt so proud of her in my entire life.
Mom stood up and looked at me, "Come on Cameron lets go home."
I stood up and followed my Mom out the door. Dr Bennett couldn't resist a final parting comment, "I suggest you file a missing persons report with the police Mrs. McMichael."