Losing Myself
By Stephanie B.


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 you bag for lunch. See you for dinner.

Love Mom’

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 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.

“Ya, 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 ya!” 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!”

“Ya, 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 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 test 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 you only 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 waked in. ‘Gail’ turned to my Mom and said, “It’s OK 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 IV 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?”

“Ya, 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 a gender change just to be different. 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 Twisties 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.

“Ok 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 would 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, ‘ya 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?”

“Ya 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.

“Ya, 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 cover and 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 OK. I get that a lot,” the tone said that is was anything but OK. “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 been some combination of all of them in this area of the 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 OK?” I asked.

“You’re lucky that I didn’t loose a stone from this,” as she indicated to 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 did 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.

“Ya, right,” 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 is 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 see 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 bi-sexual and gender dysphoric? Well, I guess just bi-sexual 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.

“OK,” 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 ok 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 ok?” After several hours in the hospital I was starting to get tired and hungry and I just wanted to go home.

“Ok, 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.”

“Ok,” 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 weird,” she said with a puzzled look and stood up. I was about to ask what she saw but she turned around a 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.

“Ok, 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.”

“That’s not…”

“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.”


To Be Continued…

Losing Myself
By Stephanie B

Chapter 2

After leaving the hospital I thought we would be heading straight home, but Mom apparently had other ideas. We drove to one of the large malls near home and headed straight for the department store on the end. I’m not even sure which one it was as I was sort of on autopilot, letting Mom just lead the way. She didn’t slow down until we where in the middle of the Women’s Clothing section and she immediately started pulling out items and handed me a few things.

She then stared at me for a few seconds before saying, “Go… go try them on.” It wasn’t until then that I even looked at what she had handed me. I instantly blushed at the bra and panties that I was holding in my hand.

“Mom!” I said while trying not to attract too much attention. “Do we need to do this now?”

“I need to calm down,” was her reply. “And this is the best way for me to do that.”

That made absolutely no sense to me, but I knew better than arguing with her when she was in a mood. I just went in search of the change rooms and reminded myself to look for the women’s change room and not the men’s. A woman who looked to be in her early thirties wearing a shirt  with the store name on it was standing outside the change rooms and asked how many items I wanted to try on. I wanted to say none, but told her how many things I had in my hand instead.

I stepped into the change room and checked twice that the door was locked behind me. Then I opened the package of panties and took out a thin white pair. I looked at them for a second and thought, “This is one part of being a girl I didn’t think about.” I slipped my shorts off and pulled the panties up my long legs and over my hips.

“Wow, I can get use to this feeling,” I thought with a smile. Now I needed to take care of the top half. I opened the box that contained the simple white bra and stared. After a minute or two I thought I had it figured out and tried to pull my tee shirt off over my head by grabbing the collar behind my neck and pulling up. The front of it bunched up under my boobs and wouldn’t budge. “Well that won’t work anymore,” I thought to myself. I then grabbed the bottom of the shirt with both hands and pulled it over my head, turning it inside out in the process. The bra was simple to put on, closing the hooks in the back was impossible. After three failed attempts at bending my arms that way I gave up. I turned it around to see how the hooks worked and closed them with it around my waist. Instead of taking it off again I turned it the right way around, pulled it up and put my arms through the straps. After fixing the twisted band and straps it was on, but there must be an easier way.

I put my shorts and tee shirt back on and opened the door to the change room and looked for Mom. She was talking to the woman in front of the change room and noticed me poking my head out the door. “Ah, how does that fit,” she asked and started to walk closer.

“It’s a bit tight,” I answered but didn’t step any further out of the change room. Mom pushed to the door wide open as she got near and looked directly at my chest.

“Where’s it tight, the cups or the band?”

“I don’t know.” Well I didn’t, it’s not like I’d ever worn a bra before. I had no idea how they where suppose to fit. If I took any clues from my Mom, I would have to suspect that they where always tight and uncomfortable. She reached up under my shirt and pulled at the band on the side, under my arm.

“It’s the band that’s too tight, the cups size looks ok. I’ll get you the next size up for you to try,” and she was off again into the vast unknown of women’ apparel. I went back into the change room to take off the one I was wearing. I had just wrestled my way out of the bra when Mom was back with another one for me to try. A hand with another bra in a box appeared through the door. I grabbed it and closed the door again, making sure it was locked this time. This one was much more comfortable and didn’t pinch anywhere.

“This one’s fine,” I said through the door. “It fits.” Of course she didn’t take my word for it and had me open up again for inspection.

“It’ll do,” was the high praise I got from Mom and she was gone again.

I slipped the sandals on again, grabbed the open package of panties and stepped out of the change room and almost walked into the sales woman standing there.

“How was everything dear?” she asked. “Did you find what you where looking for?”

“Yes, thanks.” I said quickly and started looking for Mom.

“Will you be taking those?” she said indicating the panties and empty box I had in my hand.

I looked at them and said, “Ya, I’m wearing one of them and the bra. Is that ok?”

“That’s fine dear. Just give the casher the open packages to scan when you go to pay.” A look of understanding came over her face and she asked, “How long have you been a girl now?”

“I woke up this morning like this,” I answered not really wanting to have this discussion in the middle of a department store.

“And you’re out all ready, good for you.”

Mom came up with two more bras and my heart sank. I didn’t want to do that again, but she just said, “Let’s go Cameron.”

As we walked towards the casher, I asked “What are those ones for?”

“You need more that just one bra silly.” Of course, I should have known. What with all my experience at being a girl for less than 24 hours! So my new wardrobe started with three bras and half dozen panties.

After we paid for the items at the casher, I turned to my Mom and said “I’ll need more than just underwear. I don’t even have a pair of shoes that fit.”

“I know,” Mom replied. “But this place is too expensive for that sort of thing. We’ll go to another store for the other stuff.”

The next stop was the discount shoe store in the mall. I looked at all the different styles and colors in the store. After shopping for underwear, I felt that I should be able to handle this easily. We didn’t spend a lot of time looking at shoes and ended up only getting a pair of running shoes and a pair of black slip on shoes. After the shoe store we left the mall and headed back to the car. I was getting really hungry and I realized that I hadn’t eaten anything all day long. It was getting late in the afternoon and I’m sure Mom was getting hungry too.

“Can we get something to eat?” I asked after we both got into the car.

“One more stop and then we can head home for dinner, ok?”

“Ok Mom,” I answered a bit disappointed. I sat and wonder what I would be able to do for clothes until we pulled into the parking lot of one of the thrift stores in our neighborhood. We seemed to do a lot of shopping in these places and I was always getting picked on for the clothes that I wore when not in school. But I understood the need to save our money and didn’t complain.

“Are you sure we can afford all this stuff, Mom?” We hadn’t bought too much but I was getting concerned with how much money it had come to all ready.

“We’ll manage,” she said. “You won’t be able to buy lunch at school and we can’t have dinner out for a while.” No lining up at lunch for vending machine food? I’ll just have to suffer through I guess.

“That’s ok Mom,” I explained. “I really don’t like the food in the vending machines anyway.” We got out of the car and entered the store as I silently told my stomach to shut up! The store had tons of clothes for both girls and boys of all ages, but mainly for young kids. The selection for me was a bit limited, but I found a bunch of tee shirts that looked clean enough. I’d need to run them through the laundry before I would wear them, but they would do. I found a pair of jeans that I wanted to try on and headed over to the change rooms. Mom was off in another section but saw where I was heading and nodded. The jeans fit well enough to buy and I saw Mom was already at the casher. She already had one bag of clothes and the casher was adding up the last few items when I got there.

“Do we have enough for these too?” I asked holding up the jeans I’d tried on.

“Let’s see what it comes to, ok?”

“Ok.” I held the jeans in my hand while the other items were scanned and bagged.

When Mom saw the total she turned to me and said, “Go ahead, get them too.”

“Thanks Mom,” I said and smiled for the first time in several hours. I don’t know why the jeans were so important to me, but I just felt that I needed them. I guess it’s because they’re all I ever really wore outside of school and not having any now was something that I wasn’t ready to deal with yet. We took the two bags of clothes out to the car and headed home. Once there I headed straight to my room to put the few things away. That’s when I saw the gray kilt and white blouse that was the girls school uniform. That got me thinking about school. I grabbed the new jeans and tee shirts we bought as well as some of the other dirty clothes to make a load of laundry. After it was loaded and started I went back to the kitchen to help Mom with dinner. As we sat down to dinner I thought about school again.

“Mom, what are we going to do about school?” Without a letter from the doctor proving my identity it’s not like they would just let me show up to all my classes.

“We’ll have to go in Monday morning and talk to someone in the office. They should be able to help out somehow.” Mom’s faith in the staff at my school was definitely higher than mine. After dinner I headed up to my room to unwind after the stressful day. I sat on my bed, grabbed my tablet and logged in the net again. Talking to my friends always helped before, and I really needed it today.

After a few hours of online chatting with all my friends I decided it was time to head to bed. It had been a long day and I was feeling really tired, so I said goodbye to everyone and logged off. As I got ready for bed I realized that my usual sleep shorts wouldn’t be enough to sleep in. I grabbed an old tee short and just left my panties on and climbed into bed. I was asleep in minutes. Unfortunately my sleep was disturbed by a strange dream that seems all too real.


It starts off with me sitting in front of a vanity mirror wearing only a matching white lace bra and panty set as I expertly applied my make up. This continues until I look just like the girl that I had knocked over in the street yesterday. Once done I brush and tease my hair until it’s standing almost straight up. I then walk over to the closet filled with clothing and pick out a white denim mini skirt and white vest and put them. I turn to the full length mirror and took a long look at myself. I look… hot! Actually I look too hot and was thinking it was sluttish. I look like a hooker from a bad movie.


This startled me a bit and woke me up. It took me a minute to calm down and realize it was a dream, it seemed so real. I went to the washroom, got some water and climbed back into bed to try again. As soon as I fell asleep the dream continued right where it left off.


I’m standing on ‘my corner’ talking to the other girls and striking poses for the passing cars in hopes of scoring big. A huge car rolls up to the curb and stops. This guy has money! The car isn’t one of the thousands of electric cars on the roads, its burning hydrogen. Not too many people could afford that kind of luxury. The passenger window rolls down and I look in to see my target. He looks nice and is well dressed. I could pawn the ring on his right hand and be able to pay rent for the month, maybe two.

“Looking for a date?” I say to the man driving the car. This was really looking like a bad late night movie.

“How much for the night, babe?” is his answer. Direct and to the point, just the way I like it. I think of the expensive ring, car, watch and suit he’s wearing and immediately double my price.

“Two thousand for the night,” and he doesn’t even blink and starts counting hundred dollar bills from a large roll. When he gets to twenty he hands them to me, but I just step out of the way. The largest ‘person’ I have ever seen in my life moves up to the car. The guy is easily eight feet tall and looks like a grizzly bear. He puts one paw on the roof of the car and it groans from the weight. Shoving his other paw into the window he takes the money and starts to count it. The grizzly looks at me and roars, then walks back to the ally.

As I get into the car he finally starts talking again, “Holly shit! What the hell was that?” my John is clearly shocked by the grizzly.

“You don’t wan’ a know,” I warn him. “Just drive.” He puts the car in gear and squeals the tires trying to get out of there as fast as possible.

“Calm down, he’s not gonna follow us.”

“What was that thing?” He’s lucky Ben couldn’t hear him.

“Ben? He’s my boss and you really don’t want to call him a THING.” I calm down myself as we drive further away from ‘my corner’ and Ben. I reach over and place a hand on his thigh and smile. “So, what ya want to start with first.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” he says with an odd grin. “I have plans.”

Now that I’m more relaxed I take a good look at ‘John’. He’s kind of cute and looks like he’s in his mid thirties with wavy brown hair and blue eyes. Even in the expensive Italian suit I can see that he works out and has a nice body. This could be fun after all. I continue to check the guy out and I’m not really watching were we’re driving to. The car slows down and then stops and I look around. We’ve stopped in a parking lot of what looks like one of the city parks. It’s quite dark and secluded and I get curious.

“Why did you stop here?” I ask in a friendly tone. I don’t want him to get angry. “We have all night and I thought you would rather be somewhere comfortable.”

“I like to relive my high school days,” he says. “You know, when I’d make out in the car with a gorgeous girl.”

I blush at that. I know I’m not gorgeous but I do know how to ‘make out’. I turn and practically crawl over to the guy and start to kiss him. After several minutes of heavy kissing and a little groping I stop and ask, “You mean like that?”

“Ya,” he says in a dreamy voice. “Exactly like that.”

I sit back into my seat and start to unbutton my vest while looking into his blue eyes. When all the buttons are open I start to play with the edge of the vest, pretending to be a shy little school girl and he takes the bait. He moves closer to me and starts kissing again, his hands are all over me and I let him. As we continue to kiss his left hand starts to massage my stomach and quickly moves up to my right breast. This guy is good, just the right amount of pressure and not pinching too much. All too soon his hand continues up and he holds my neck as we kiss some more. The hand on my neck starts to get a little rough and feels wrong. I open my eyes, which I didn’t realize I had closed, to see him staring into my eyes. His hand continues to get tighter and I’m starting to have trouble breathing. I try to push his hand away but it gets tighter. I try to bite his tongue, but that doesn’t even work. I can feel myself start to panic.


I woke up again in a cold sweat, breathing hard. I was back in my bedroom in a tee shirt and panties, shaking. I got out of bed and made my way to the kitchen and started to make some coffee. I really didn’t want to go back to bed if that dream was going to continue. After the coffee was ready I head into the living room and turned on a video news feed. I wasn’t interested in the news I just needed something to keep my mind occupied so I wouldn’t fall asleep again.

I woke up again when the sun was up and shining through the living room window. The news feed was still playing and my coffee was only half gone. I was just thankful that I didn’t dream anymore while I was sleeping. Mom was just coming down the stairs and she noticed me lying on the couch.

“You’re up early,” she said as she headed for the kitchen and the coffee.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I explained. “I had a bad dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it, Sweetie?” That was the first time Mom had ever called me Sweetie. That was something new.

“No it’s ok,” I hoped she would drop it. “It was just a dream. No problem,” I lied but there was no reason the get her scared. It’s not like she could do anything about my dreams.

“So what have you got planned for today,” Mom asked as she poured a cup of coffee. She took a sip and wrinkled her nose at it. It must have gone cold by now.

“Sorry I made that last night.” She just poured the whole pot out and started to make another.

“So?” she prodded. I got the impression she didn’t want me sitting around the house all day. Some things never change I guess.

“I was going to go over to Bill’s house and see what I missed last week,” I stated like this was my original plan. If she wanted me out for a while, I might as well go have some fun. Bill had just gotten a new 3D game console with some cool shooter games. He had been asking me to come over so he could kick my butt in the games.

After a quick breakfast and a few more cups of coffee I headed upstairs to get dressed and head out. I went to the bathroom first to brush my teeth, wash and do something with my hair. I cursed every knot and tangle, and vowed to get it cut as soon as possible. Once it was tamed, I went to get dressed. At least the decision on what to wear was easy, jeans and a tee shirt after I wrestled my way into the bra. I need to ask Mom if there is an easy way to put one of these things on

As I hit the bottom of the stairs and open the front door Mom says, “Call me when you get to Bill’s house.”

“Why?” I’d never done that before. Why would she ask me to do it today?

“Just to make sure you get there ok,” she explained. “It’s not the same for a young woman to be walking alone.”

“Mom, don’t be silly,” I was shocked. I never knew my own Mom had such sexist thoughts. I just dashed out the door and closed it behind me before she could say anything else. Next she’d want me to go to washroom with her when we were in public.

Bills house was only a few blocks away and we didn’t live in a bad part of the city. It wasn’t really nice, but people left you alone most of the time. I’d also learned how to avoid the people that liked to cause me trouble, so I didn’t worry about walking. On my way I realized that Bill and his parents hadn’t seen me since I changed. This was going to be fun. As I got closer to the house I could see Bill’s dad sitting at a table in the front window with a coffee and reading the paper.

I started to take bigger steps and swing my hips more and this did exactly what I thought it would do, put more ‘bounce’ in my walk and show off all my curves. I walked straight up to the front door and knocked. The puzzled look on Mr. Smyth’s face as he opened the door was priceless. He’d told me to call him Nick for years, but I’ve never been comfortable with that. It was like calling a teacher by their first name.

“Does Billy live here?” I asked in my best attempt at a cutesy voice.

The look of utter confusion on his face almost made me burst out laughing. I’m sure that Bill’s dad thought he was a virgin simply because he never dated. Not that he didn’t want to, it’s just the being a bit of a geek like me we just didn’t attract girls like the guys on the football team did. Mr. Smyth finally snapped out of his confusion long enough the yell up the stairs.

“Bill,” he yelled while still holding the door. “You have a visitor.” I waited with a stupid grin on my face and batted my eyes at Bill’s dad. I just hopped that I could last. Bill came down the stairs two at a time, still wearing his sleep shorts and a tee shirt that he likely just pulled on. As soon as he got to the door I jumped him.

“Billy,” I squealed as I wrapped my arms around him. “I missed you. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I… uh…,” was all he could say. I continued to hold myself against Bill until I could feel the result I was looking for. Then I let go, backed up a step and looked at his shorts.

“Are you thinking naughty thoughts about me again?” indicate the start of a bulge on him. POP, Bill was gone, I couldn’t hold it in anymore and start laughing. Mr. Smyth looked at me and he didn’t seem happy.

“I’m sorry Mr. Smyth,” I started to explain after I stop laughing a little. “It’s me, Cameron. I was just having some fun with Bill.”

“Cameron?” he asks. “Is that really you? You… look different.”

I just laughed again. “Ya ain’t MORFS great?” I asked as a posed for him and started laughing harder.

“You seem to be… adjusting well,” he stated but I could tell it was a question.

“Well,” I started. “I figured I might as well make the best of it.” I didn’t feel like explaining that I was starting to really like my new appearance and that I didn’t want to get back to the old me.

“Cameron! That was not funny!” Bill yelled as he came down the stairs. He had quickly dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, the official teen uniform. At least it was when not in school.

“Oh yes it was,” his dad said and I just laughed again. The phone rang and Mr. Smyth went to the other room to get it.

I smiled to Bill and said, “Sorry but I needed that. I had a rough night.”

“What do you mean?”

Before I could answer Bill, his dad came out with the phone and handed it to me. “It’s for you. It’s your Mom.”

“Sorry Mom. I was just about to call you. I…” I said. I knew she wanted me to call and figure she was just getting impatient.

“You need to turn on the news,” she interrupted. Her tone was odd and I couldn’t figure out why she sounded scared.

“Ok,” I replied. To Bill’s dad I asked, “Do you mind if I turn on the local news feed?”

“Sure, it’s in the living room.” Of course it was I’d been here about a thousand times and I didn’t think that they had moved it in that last week. I see I needed to prove to them who I was after all. We all entered the living room and Bill’s dad turned on the 24 hour new channel. The anchor man was in the middle of a story.

“…again. Police are asking for any information on the identity of a partially clothed woman found strangled to death this morning in a wooded area of Fisher Park.” The image then changed to a picture of young woman’s face with bruises around her neck. I dropped the phone. I was looking at the screen, but I might as well have been looking into a mirror. The woman’s face was identical to mine with the exception of the bruises and smeared make up. “Although the police are not commenting on the circumstances of the woman’s death, sources say that she is now the fourth victim of the Cadillac Killer.”

The Cadillac Killer was the name that the media had given a serial murderer that had been terrorizing the downtown area. They got the name from reports that the killer was seen picking up victims in a big black Cadillac. All the victims, at least so far, had been young Hispanic prostitutes and were always found strangled to death and left in one of the many parks around the city. The details of the murders were never reported. The police even seemed to go out of their way to not indicate if they suspected the murderer was male of female.

Both Bill and his dad looked at me then looked back at the screen. The confusion was clearly visible on both of their faces. I was secretly betting which one would be able to talk first. Bill’s dad won the race, but not by much.

“I don’t understand,” he said

“Why does she look like you?” was Bill question a fraction of a second later.

“It’s the other way around,” I tried to explain as I picked up the phone again.

“Are you ok Cameron,” the concern on my mother’s voice was almost at a panic level.

“Ya I just dropped the phone,” I keep my voice calm to try to reassure my Mom that I was fine. “Can you come and get me. I think you need to take me to the police station.” That didn’t help her calm down, but I felt I needed to talk to them about my dream.

“I’ll be right over,” she barely got out before hanging up.

In the time I had until Mom got to the Smyth’s house, I tried to explain as much as I could to Bill and his dad. I explained how I woke up on Friday with no changes from MORFS and then the trip to the downtown clinic. I told them about the girl that I walked into and knocked to the ground and the blood that I got on my hand when helping her to her feet. I finally get to the part about waking up yesterday looking like her and then the useless trip to the hospital and the disbelieve they had about me even being a MORFS survivor. The door bell saved me from having to retell the story of my bad dream last night.

Bill’s dad opened the door and said to my Mom, “Hi Rachel. Come in.”

“Thanks Nick, where’s Cameron?”

“He’s… she’s in the living room,” I caught the slip and smiled but didn’t say anything. That would be for a different time. I just ran up to my Mom and threw my arms around her in a big hug and started to cry.

“Does this have anything to do with your bad dream last night?” she asked as I buried my face into her shoulder.

“How did you know?” was all I could get out. I couldn’t believe that she had figured it out so fast. She just gave me a crooked smile and patted my head.

“Would you like a ride to the police station?” Mr. Smyth asked my Mom.

“No that’s ok,” she said. “I wouldn’t want you to be stuck there if they have a lot of questions.”

I walked out to the car in a daze. This was starting to get to be a habit and not one that I like one bit. Mom was a few seconds behind me after saying a few more words to Bill and his dad. I was in the car and couldn’t hear and only guessed that she was saying something about calling when she knew more. Once in the car and on the way to the downtown police station Mom tried to get me to talk.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

“Not yet,” I stalled. I didn’t want to relive the nightmare more times then I had to. The drive was very quiet and somewhat awkward, but we got there soon enough. As we entered the building I could feel every one stop and stare at me. There were a lot of whispered comments and the receptionist desk seemed like a mile long hike.

“Can I help…” she started to say and stopped. Then she said something that made no sense at the time. “I’m sorry about your sister. Come with me.” I have no sister, or a brother for that matter. What was she talking about? Mom and I followed the young woman and entered one of the rooms with a few chairs and a table. The mirror on the wall immediately made me think of every cop show I had ever seen and assumed that there would be several people behind the glass with video equipment. We sat there for only a few minutes before the door opened and a man came in and sat at the table across from us.

He looked directly at me and said, “I’m detective A.J. Walsh. I’m sorry you had to find out about your sister this way, but we have no records of Tracy Williams having a twin sister.” I looked at my Mom and we both laughed for a second. “Did I say something funny?” the detective said, clearly annoyed.

Mom was the first to answer, “Sorry detective, I’m Rachel McMichael and this is my daughter Cameron.” She called me her daughter. It was a really strange feeling and I just wanted to hug her, but it would have to wait.

Something the detective said made me think. “I thought the news said you were looking for the person’s identity?”

“Ya, that’s a technique that we use sometimes,” he explained. “People are usually more willing to talk to the police about a person, instead of the crime. So, how did you know Tracy?”

“We didn’t,” Mom said to the detective.

“I ran into her on Friday after an appointment at the King Street MORFS clinic,” I explained. “She cut her hand when she fell and I got some of her blood on me helping her up. The next day I woke up looking like this.”

“So you’re a shape shifter and now you look like the victim,” he said. “Why are you here? Do you have any information on her death?” The tone of his voice showed that he didn’t believe a word that I was saying.

“I had a dream last night,” I really didn’t want to talk about it, but I thought it was important. “I think I witnessed the murder.” Mom gasped at that and I just held her hand.

I described my dream to detective Walsh in as much detail as possible. I told him what I was wearing in the dream and the corner that I was ‘working’ at. I then went on to describe the car and the well dressed man who picked me up. I even described the grizzly named Ben and how he took the money instead of me. Retelling the scene in the car and the feeling of being choked was extremely hard, but a pushed on. As I finished explaining all this I could feel my scalp get itchy. I’d felt that feeling before, so turned to look at the mirror and pointed at my head. “The last two telepaths that tried couldn’t get in, but you can try if you like.”

The itching stopped immediately and after only a few seconds the door opened again and a tall blond woman with light gray eyes entered. She sat in the last remaining chair looked at me and said, “You felt that?” Of course I felt that, how could I miss it? I just nodded an answer and didn’t say anything. “That’s strange,” she said more to herself that anyone else.

“I’m Dr. Linda Mills. I’m a psychiatrist and consultant for the police department. And yes, I’m a telepath.” She had a warm, friendly smile and was very well dressed. Her tailored burgundy business suit showed off her figure quite well but was still conservative enough to be professional. She then turned to the detective and said, “I have no idea if she’s telling the truth or not. I wasn’t able to sense anything.” She then looked at me again and said, “That’s quite a barrier you have there.”

“I think it’s something from MORFS,” I was guessing, but it was the only thing that I could think of. “The telepath from the clinic couldn’t read me at all and the one at the hospital was getting someone else when she tried.”

“Do you mind if I can try again?” she asked. If it helped them believe me and I could get out of here quicker I was all for it.

“Sure, why not”. I relaxed and waited for her to start. As soon as I felt the itching again I closed my eyes and used the suggestion the last telepath have given me. I visualized opening the front door to the house.

The pain was something that I had never experienced before. It was like standing right in front of the loud speakers of a concert with the light show going off in my face. I grabbed my ears and yelled, “Stop! Please! It hurts!” It lasted a few more seconds and then the volume was turned way down, but not gone. I opened my eyes again and said, “Thanks, that’s better.” That’s when I noticed that the walls of the room where gone and replaced by, what looked like, a thick fog. I could vaguely sense people through it, but couldn’t make out any details. I looked at Linda and asked, “What did you do?”

Before she could say the words I already knew that a psionic suppressor had been activated when Linda had given a signal to Tony. Linda had a bit of a crush on him and had been waiting for him to ask her out. The image of him in her mind was a very cute dark haired Italian man. I looked over at the mirror, where I sensed that he was and was surprised to see Anthony Spigatti through the fog. He looked exactly like the image in Linda’s mind and I wonder what he really looked like. He was the electronics specialist in the next room monitoring the group. I smiled and thought ‘Thanks.’ He smiled and I wonder if he ‘heard’ me. He was kind of cute, but it was a shame he was gay. The woman sitting beside Tony in the monitoring room was Maria Gonzales. She was the partner of detective Walsh and wanted a transfer to get away from him. I look at detective Walsh and realized why Ashley Jordan Walsh insisted on going by A.J. He was also a pure and was very uncomfortable sitting that close to Linda, but didn’t want to move away again. He’d already done it twice since she sat down. The thoughts from my Mom where washed out from an odd mix of emotions. She was concerned, afraid and angry all at the same time. I ‘told’ her that I was fine and they were helping. I could sense her calm down a little, but she was still very angry.

Linda reached over the table and touched my hand to get my attention and said in a soft soothing voice, “Are you ok now?” Her voice may have been soft and soothing, but her thoughts were like she was yelling into bull horn three inches from my ear. I winched and Linda said, “Sorry.” Her thoughts were at a much lower volume. It was just really loud instead of painful. “You want to stop?” I shook my head. I wanted to get this over with.

The images of me waking up after MORFS, the clinic downtown, the hospital and then the dream from last night flew through my mind.  They rolled by so fast that I couldn’t focus on any one of them for long. After the dream sequence completed I could feel a sense of shock from Linda, but it was quickly masked. I got the impression she recognized the person in my dream, but didn’t want me to know that.

“Ok, I’m done,” she said. I closed my eyes and visualized closing the door again. The sounds and images where immediately cut off and when I opened my eyes I couldn’t see the fog anymore. Even the mirror was back. Linda looked at me and raised her eyebrow, “You’re quite a strong telepath.” I didn’t know whether to be proud, or scared. I guess MORFS had done more to me than I ever imaged.

“You really should see someone to learn how to use that ability,” said Linda. I wasn’t too sure about that as the pain was something that I didn’t really want to go through again. Detective Walsh was getting impatient by this time and a wanted to get some answers. It was only at this point that I realized that I hadn’t said anything out loud since grabbing my head in pain.

“Well, did you get anything?” he asked.

“We’ll talk later,” Linda said. She made it clear this was something not to discuss in front of us.

I started to feel tired and wanted to get out of the tiny room. “Do I need to make an official statement or something?”

Both Linda and detective Walsh started to talk at the same time, but Linda seemed to take control of the conversation. “That’s ok,” she said. “The courts aren’t very receptive to telepathic evidence and as you said, this was just a dream.” I felt disappointed that they didn’t believe me. I guess she saw the disappointment in my face and said, “We will be able to use some of the information you’ve provided to continue the investigation through. I really appreciate you coming in today.” That did make me feel better.

I stood up and said, “Then if it’s ok, I’d like to go home now.” Mom stood up as well and gave me a hug and quick kiss on the forehead.

She had an idea and asked Linda, “Dr Mills, since you’re the first person to be able to read Cameron could you contact her school? We don’t know how to get her back in without some proof of her identity.”

“I’d be happy to,” she said with a smile. “It’s the least I can do after all the help Cameron’s been.”


The next morning I woke up slowly even though the alarm clock by my head was screaming for attention. It was a typical Monday morning and I needed to get ready for school. What wasn’t typical was that this would be my first day at school as a girl. I turned off the alarm and pulled myself out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. I felt I needed a show so started the water and climbed in. I keep the water a little cooler than normal in hopes that it would help me wake up. Washing and rinsing my hair seemed to take forever and I vowed again to get it cut shorter as soon as possible. After I finally feel clean again I stepped out, wrapped a towel around me and started drying my hair with another towel. After about five minutes I gave up and pulled out Mom’s hairdryer from under the sink. I finally figured out that I needed to brush it as I’m drying it for this to work and finish quickly afterwards. As I headed back into my room to get dressed I saw the time and curse to myself, “I’m going to be late again.” Getting dressed in my school uniform was only a challenge on buttoning the blouse, since the buttons were on the opposite side than what I was used to. The kilt was simple, step in and buckle it up.

I headed down the stairs and said good morning to Mom, who was in her usual position at the kitchen counter with a coffee. I grabbed one as well and drank it quickly before heading to the door.

“Hold on Sweetie, you’re kilt isn’t on straight.” She said as I was about to open the door. Mom stepped up behind me and twisted the kilt around my waist until the buckle was on my left hip and said, “There you go.”

“Thanks Mom,” I said. I should have known it went that way. I’d seen enough girls wearing kilts during my fours years in high school.

“Would you like a ride to school today?” she asked. That surprised me a bit. Mom never offered before and I usually got turned down the few times I had asked for a ride, even if it was raining.

“Sure, I’d like that,” I replied before she could change her mind.

“I wanted to make sure they let you back in and that they’ve updated you records.” We climbed into the car and headed to school. Mom parked in the visitor lot and we walked into the school office. Mrs. Bishop peered over her glasses as she looked up from behind the receptionist desk as we entered.

“Good morning, how can I help you?” she asked.

“Hi, I’m Rachel McMichael and Cameron is just returning to school after MORFS,” my Mom stated. “We just wanted to make sure that all her records have been updated.”

“I’m grad you’re feeling better Cameron,” Mrs. Bishop said to me. “Please have a seat. Mr. Connor likes to have a talk to the students when they return, before they resume their classes. Do you have time as well Mrs. McMichael?”

Mom looked at her watch and said, “I have a few minutes before I have to head off to work.”

“Good, I’ll tell him you’re waiting.” She then picked up the phone and quietly told the Head Master that we were waiting to see him. We where only sitting in the uncomfortable chairs for a minute or two before Mr. Connor came out of his office and greeted us. He invited us into his office and closed the door behind us before sitting at his desk and pulled up my school records on his monitor.

“This is very unusual,” he said after reading though some of the information.

“What is?” my Mom asked. I thought they weren’t going to believe me either and I wouldn’t be allowed to finish my final year of school.

“It’s just that we usually get a report from your doctor or a registered MORFS clinic,” he explained trying to calm our fears. “I think this is the first time that I’ve ever received a report from a police psychiatrist.”

“I can explain,” I started to say.

“That’s OK and I rather you didn’t,” Mr. Connor said. That confused me. He didn’t want to know the reason? “The report indicates that the details are classified and you are a witness to a case that they are currently investigating.”

“Oh,” I said. It would have been nice for Linda to have told me that.

“We have taken you out of you PE class for obvious reasons,” he continued. “Since it’s so close to the end of the school year, we’ll just consider it completed with full credit.” That was a huge relief. Phys Ed was my least favorite class and I was glad to be out of it. “As for all your other classes I don’t see any issues. You should be able to continue on where you left off. You’ll need to catch up on the work you’ve missed, but from your marks that should be easy enough.”

“Thank you Mr. Connor,” I said. I had a very busy few days ahead of me but it would keep my mind off the things that I had gone through.

“Do you have any questions?” he asked. My Mom and I looked at each other and then shook our heads no. “Just one last thing, I’m glad to see you in your school uniform, but please remember that we expect all girls attending classes to wear some make up.”

“Sorry Mr. Connor,” I said.

“I’ll have to pick up some for Cameron and show her how to use it,” Mom said. All I could think of was Tracy putting on her make up in my dream the night she was killed. “We’ll start you with some eye shadow and lip gloss, nothing too much at first.” Mom always knew exactly what to say.

“Well then,” Mr. Connor continued. “You had better get to your first class. We wouldn’t want you back here for a tardy slip your first day back.”

We stood up, thanked Mr. Connor and left his office. Out in the hall way of the school I gave Mom a big hug and said, “Thanks for being here today.”

“Your welcome Sweetie,” she said and kissed my forehead. “I’ll see you at home for dinner.” I watched her leave and then headed to my homeroom class. Most of the other students hadn’t arrived yet, so I quietly took my sit and waited for the class to start. As people filled the class I got several odd looks from both the boys and the girls. It took a moment to realize that the boys where checking out the ‘fresh meat’ while the girls where sizing up the new competition.

Mr. Young enter the class and everyone sat down quickly. He started with attendance and when he got to my name I said, “Here.” The whole class looked at me and I blushed. I heard several people gasp.

One of the boys near me said, “Another damn twisty.”

“I’ll have no name calling in my class,” the teacher almost yelled over all the other voices. “Is that clear?” He looked directly at the boy that had called me a Twisty.

“Yes sir,” the class said quickly. I could never understand the reaction from the people in school. There were hybrids, supers and even purists, but it was the Twisty’s that got the most comments and abuse from the others students. I decided to ignore it and try to get caught up with the work that I had missed. As the class finished and I was about to leave, Mr. Young indicated for me to stay.

“I’m glad to see you back Cameron,” he said. He started to look though his bag of notes and handed me an assignment sheet. Great, homework!

“Thanks Mr. Young,” I said as I put the homework away.

“And don’t worry about the others. If they give you a hard time, just let me know.”

“Thanks again,” I said as I headed for the door. “I will.”

I met up with Bill in the hall as we headed to Mr. Pollards history class. It was the only class we shared this semester. “So how did things go with the police?” was the first think Bill asked.

“Fine,” I said. I didn’t know how much I could talk about it. The police hadn’t told the school about it and I didn’t think I should say too much either.

“Did they believe you?” he asked, trying to get more information.

“Ya, they even contacted the school to prove my identity,” I explained. I figured that part was probably safe to talk about.

“Oh ya, you never got a letter from the clinic. Did you?”

“No, but I shouldn’t need one now.” I figured a police psychiatrist would be better that a stupid clinic any day. History was a repeat of my first class with the looks and the comments. One girl near the back of the class named Becky was particularly abusive. She continued to make comments all through the class, even asking if I would be dating boys now. I most likely would, but it was none of her business and I told her as much. After history let out it was lunch time.

Bill and I walked together into the cafeteria and sat at our usual table. We had just started to eat when three people walked over and sat down with us. I had no idea who two of them where, but the one who sat beside me was Wendy Davis. She used to be Wendell Davis before MORFS turned her into a Twisty two years ago. She was also one of the more outspoken of the Twisty’s and I had already guessed what she wanted.

“Hi Cameron,” she said. “I heard you were back today. Welcome to the Twisty’s.” News sure did travel fast in this school. It hadn’t even been a full day yet and everyone already knew about me.

“I don’t know if I want to be a Twisty Wendy,” I said. “I’m still getting used to all of this.”

“Doesn’t matter if you want to or not,” she said in a bit of a snobbish voice. “You already are one.” The three of them got up and just before they walked away she looked at Bill and said, “Be nice to her Weasel.”

“What did she mean by that?” Bill asked me.

I shook my head and said, “I have no idea.”

It was a more stressful day than I had expected. Since the last class of the day would have been PE, I signed myself out and headed home. Once I got home I started reading through the headlines when one caught my eye. I selected it and let it play. The video only took a second to download before it started. The image started with a view of the downtown police station, then focus on a well dressed oriental woman holding a microphone.

“This is a Nicole Takei with a Network News exclusive. It would seem that the police have caught a lucky break in the Cadillac Killer case. It was yesterday morning when police contacted local news agencies asking for the publics help in identifying the latest victim.” The image the police had release yesterday was added in the corner of the screen while to reporter continued. “It now seems that the victim may be very much alive. Network News has received the following amateur video, taken yesterday at this very spot.” The image changed again to show two women walking up the stairs of the police station and entering the building. The short video was shown again in slow motion and then froze when you could see the faces of the two people. It was clear the people in the video were me and my Mom as we entered that station yesterday. The image of me from the video was placed side by side with the victims as the reporter continued.

“Repeated attempts for an interview with the investigating officers have been denied. When asked for information on the woman in the video, the police simply stated that she is a ‘person of interest’ in their investigation. We will continue to keep you up to date as more information becomes available in this bizarre case.”

“This is Nicole Takei, Network News.”

All I could think of was, “Could this get any worse?” Unfortunately I was soon to find out exactly how much worse it would get.


To Be Continued.


Losing Myself
By Stephanie B

Chapter 3

“3… 2… 1… and you’re awake.”

My eyelids flutter for a second and then open to the familiar face of Dr. Mills looking over me. I smile at her and try to remember what we would have been talking about during this session, but I can’t. This is the standard routine for these sessions and I’m starting to wonder if she’s trying to keep something from me. It’s not like I don’t trust her, I do. She’s the only person I’ve ever met in my life who even tried to help me. It’s just that I can never remember the sessions and I guess I’m getting paranoid.

“How do you feel Tracy,” she asks after my eyes are completely open and can focus on her.

“I feel fine,” it’s the answer I always say after I wake up. “Was I able to remember any more details this time?” One of the reasons that I agreed to the hypnosis was to get more details for the police to help in the case.

“No I’m sorry you didn’t,” Dr Mills tells me and I try to hide my disappointment. “But the good news is that the information is the same without any lose of details.”

I smile and say, “Maybe we can stop these sessions then. I mean, if I’m not able to recall any more details I shouldn’t need to be coming here three times a week.”

Dr. Mills raises her eyebrow at my comment and I know what’s coming next. “What about the dreams you keep having? Are you still having the same one?”

I suddenly become interested in my shoes and quietly say, “Yeah.” I seem to be having the same dream each night. I’m a teenage boy in high school who goes through MORFS and becomes a Hispanic girl. No one believes who I am, including my own mother, and I’m forced into a life of prostitution. There are so many things that are completely wrong with the dream that it just doesn’t make sense. I’ve never had MORFS so I’ve always been a girl and my mother died when I was ten years old.

“But I still don’t know what it means, if anything at all,” I say. The dream is really bothering me and I just want it to go away.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” she explains. “I’m sure when things settle down it will make more sense or just stop. But until then we should keep working on it. Since you’re having it so often it’s clearly important to you somehow.”

I just nod and say, “Ok, I guess you’re right.”

“So how’s your new apartment?” Dr Mills asks. I can tell she wants to change the subject, but I don’t mind. There a few other things that I want to talk about as well.

The apartment is actually a small suite in a downtown hotel. “It very nice and the cleaning staff are really friendly.” They are, but they’re the only people in the whole place I got to see much of, other that the waiters with room service. “I’m just getting a little stir crazy in there. I’m not comfortable with being indoors for this long.”

“I know this is hard on you, but it is for your own safety,” she says, for the hundredth time.

I try not to roll my eyes while I say, “I know, but I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now.” I’ve been living on the streets since I ran away from my slime ball of a dad when I was sixteen. Has it really been six years already? “I just want to go out dancing, or have a nice meal with a cute guy, instead of being stuck in that place all the time. It’s like I’m the one in prison.”

“Well it won’t be for much longer,” she tells me. That’s news and I look hopeful. “I understand that detective Walsh is getting close to making an arrest and then you can go back to your home, or where ever you’d like to go.”

“That’s wonderful!” I reply, unable to hide my excitement. “Do you know when?”

“No, he just said it would be soon.” She closes the file on her desk and I know that we’re out of time. The pattern is always the same. It’s been this way for four weeks now. I stand at the same time that she does and we shake hands.

“Thanks Dr Mills, I appreciate what all of you are doing for me.” I really am thankful but I just want this to be over so I can move on with a new life. “I’m sure I’ll be able to deal with this until then.” The alternative was not really a life that I wanted to go back to. It’s been six years of working the streets with most of the money going to someone else. It was filled with too many men to remember and too many degrading acts for one person to have to deal with.

“Don’t forget, I’ll see you tomorrow at the court house,” Dr Mills reminds me. It’s not like I would ever forget tomorrow.

“Don’t worry,” I reply. “I’ll be there.” Tomorrow would be the interview with the assistant district attorney. She wants to talk to all of us to see if there was enough evidence to proceed with the case. There must be if A.J., detective Walsh, is about to make an arrest. I pause for a second before I open the door to leave. Then I mentally shake my head and go out to the waiting room area of the doctor’s office to see A.J. waiting for me.

“Hi A.J.,” I say as I open my purse and grab my mirror to check my make up. I want to look my best and know these sessions can make it run sometimes. After I’m sure its ok I put the mirror back in and throw my purse over my shoulder. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Only a few minutes,” he answers. “Are you ready to go?” A.J. has been my personal escort back and forth for the past month. I’m sure he has other things he’d rather be doing, but he never complains about it.

“Yep back to my gilded gage,” I say in a jovial voice that I really don’t feel.

“Do you need to anything before we go?” he asks me. I know what I need from him, but he’s turned me down too many times for me to try again.

Instead I just say, “No, I think I’ll just head down to the pool and sauna this afternoon.” At least the hotel has some nice features to keep me busy all day long. The sauna is one of my favorites.

Once in the car and on our way back to the hotel I ask A.J. some questions, just to pass the time. “So why do you always drive me to the Doc’s office? I would have thought you had better things to do than to be my chauffeur.” A.J. is really cute, for a cop, but he never talks to me unless I start the conversation. It’s been hard getting to know him and I still have no idea why he avoids me so much.

“You’re a key witness in my case,” he explains. “I don’t trust anyone else with your safety. This case is going to get me known in my department and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Great, another man who only wants me for what I can do for them. I decide that’s enough questions for today. I don’t want to know anymore answers at the moment, if they’re going to be like that.

We get to the hotel soon enough. Once I’m back in the hotel room I get changed to go for a swim. A few laps in the hotel pool will make me feel better. The sauna always helps me relax too. I step out into the hall in my tiny, white bikini and sandals, my towel over my arm, and head for the pool. I like the attention I get from the people I pass as I walk nearly naked to the pool. There’s no one in the pool area and I have the place to myself. “Oh well,” I think to myself. “No one to flirt with, I’ll just have to exercise.”

After twenty minutes of swimming laps I’m tired and need to relax. I climb out and look around to see if there is anyone in sight. Since there’s no one I can see I untie my bikini top at my back and wrap the towel around my upper body. Once it’s in place I untie the top at my neck and pull it off. I then step out of the bikini bottoms and head for the sauna with my bikini in hand. I hate being in a wet bathing suit any longer than I have to be. The sauna is also empty and I turn the heat up as I step in. The system automatically turns it down to save energy when it’s not used for a while, so I have to wait for a few minutes for it to head back up again. After only a about ten or fifteen minutes my head starts to get itchy and I guess I need a shower so I  head up to my room. I decide that I’m going to eat in the hotel restaurant instead of having room service. A.J. and Dr Mills have said not to leave the hotel unless I have an escort, so that means I’m being watched here. I don’t know any of the people that are looking after me, but I know that they’re there.

In the room I have a shower and take a little longer washing my hair. The itchy scalp might mean that I need some better shampoo that what the hotel supplies. The conditioner is pretty good but the bottles are so small I use the whole thing each time I do my hair. I’ll make a point to ask A.J. or Dr Mills for a few things next time I see them. I then change into a short black dress with a deep V neck and black heels and head to the restaurant for dinner.

“Will you be dining alone Miss?” the host asks as I’m waiting for a table.

“Yes, a table for one please,” I reply. I know that he’ll give me a seat near the front of the room. One that is likely in the window looking out onto the street. It happens all the time. Put the pretty woman in display for all the people to see, maybe get some of the single guys to come in for dinner too. I sit and drink some water, waiting for the dinner salad that I ordered to arrive and watch the city walk by outside.

The head waiter approaches my table with a glass of white wine and says, “Compliments of the gentleman at the bar.” He indicates that blond haired man in dark colored dress pants and a polo shirt sitting at the bar. When I look over I see him raise his glass to me and take a sip of his wine.

I take the drink and say, “Thank you. Would you ask him if he’d like to join me?” The waiter just nods and heads over to the man to tell him the good news. He walks over and stands at the side of the table and I indicate to the other chair, “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you,” he says in a deep sexy voice that sends a slight shiver down my spine. “It’s a 2010 California wine that I’ve fallen in love with. I hope you enjoy it.” I take a sip and find it a little dry for my taste but smile.

“Are you from California then?” I ask. The accent would make sense but I’m not good at picking up very many accents. I haven’t traveled very much and don’t encounter too many of them in this city.

“Yes, I’m just here for the week on business,” he explains. Out of habit I look at his left hand to see if he’s married, but don’t see a ring or any sign of him ever wearing one. “And you? Are you here visiting from another city as well?”

“No I live here, my house is under construction at the moment,” it’s the cover story that we had agreed on if anyone asked. “Are you eating dinner here tonight?” I was hungry and didn’t want to have to wait to eat. I never liked to eat in front of someone who wasn’t eating as well.

“Yes I am,” he answers and nods to the head waiter. A moment later a teenage girl with flaming red hair brings my salad and his filet mignon to the table. I wonder of the red hair is natural, a dye job or the result of MORFS. We make small talk during dinner to fill the time. His name is Steve and he’s an investment manager for a financial consulting company. He travels with work a lot and hates to eat alone. I think it’s just an excuse to pick up strange women in bars or restaurants. I tell him a long series of lies to him about my life. He really doesn’t need to know the truth and I don’t want to scare him away. As we continue to talk and get to know each other I curse myself for promising to be celibate to Dr. Mills. She said it was best until my therapy is done, but this guy was so handsome and easy to talk to. After a few hours I say that I have a busy day in the morning and I’m getting tired. We agree to meet again for dinner the next evening and then say good night. As I walk to the elevator to head to my room, I notice my scalp is itchy again. It must be the shampoo. Maybe I’m allergic to it.

After I get to the room and get ready for bed, I lie in bed and think about Steve. I did agree to be celibate, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t still enjoy myself. And did I ever enjoy myself! Several times! I just hope that the walls are thicker that some of the other hotels I’ve stayed in.

I remember the fun from the night before as I sit in the hotel lobby waiting for A.J. to pick me up and take me to the court house. I’m not a patient person and my scalp is itching again. It’s driving me crazy and I vow to get some new hair supplies before I come back to the hotel.

A.J. finally arrives and says, “That’s what you plan to wear to see the A.D.A?” I’m wearing four inch heals, a short skirt and short sleeve cross over blouse with a deep V neck.

“Well, it’s not like I have a lot of options for clothes,” I explain. “Besides, this is what I’ve become comfortable in.” A.J. shakes his head as we head to the car. After a short drive to city hall and an elevator ride to the Assistant District Attorney’s office, a secretary greets us and shows us to one of the conference rooms. Dr. Mills is already there as well as a very dark skinned woman who looks to be in her mid or late forties. She is dressed very well in a knee length navy blue skirt and matching jacket over a gold colored blouse.

She stands and holds out her hand for me to shake it, “Hello, I’m Assistant District Attorney Katherine LeBlanc. Thank you for coming.” She had a firm hand shake and a pleasant sounding voice, but her eyes where the same color gold as her blouse and had pupils like a cat. When she smiled I could also see her canine teeth were a little longer than normal as well. I imaged a large cat, or a panther with her dark skin.

“Hello Ms. LeBlanc. I’m Tracy Williams,” I said as I shook her hand.

“Are you sure?” she said. “Are you sure your names not Cameron McMichael?”


The whole world seemed to spin and I felt dizzy. I had to sit or I would fall down. I looked around to see all the people in the room and I can’t remember how I got there for a few minutes. I knew all three people in the room, Linda, A.J. and Katherine. We met each week with the A.D.A. to give her a progress report and hope that she would be able to make a case so that I would be able to go home again.

Linda looked at me and said, “Are you all right Cameron?”

“Yeah,” I answered as I took a breath. “I always get dizzy when the activation phrase if used.”

“So have you had any contact yet?” Katherine asked. “It’s been almost a month now.”

I smiled at each one in the room and said, “I just had someone scan me last night.” I told them all about my dinner companion and about the two separate attempts to scan me. Over the last few weeks I had been exposed to a few more telepaths to see if the itchy scalp that I felt was consistent. I could always tell when someone tried to scan me, without fail. “I can show you what he looks like if you want.”

Both Linda and Katherine nodded and I looked at A.J. I knew he would be reluctant to my telepathic contact and the reason I asked in the first place. After he still hadn’t given his ok, I decided to push his buttons.

“Come on Ashley, I promise not to look in places I shouldn’t.” He hated it when I called him by his real name instead of A.J.

“Fine just do it,” he said. I concentrated on the three of them and gave them a good image of Steve from several angles and let them hear his voice from the long conversation we had. Then I cut the link and waited for them to process the information.

“Do any of you know who this guy is?” I asked. I felt that he was likely the telepath and was using the dinner conversation to get information since I didn’t think he would have been able to get through my shield.

Linda and Katherine looked at A.J. who said, “I have an idea, but I’ll have to look in to the MORFS database. If he’s the guy I’m thinking of, he’s a contract telepath from California. He sells his services to anyone with the right amount of money, but has never done anything illegal.” He then thumbed the access pad of his tablet and started flipping though the registered MORFS database.

I looked at Linda and asked, “Am I in that thing too.”

“No,” she answered. “Not yet. Once all this is done we’ll need to add a record in there for you, but not right now.”

“Oh,” I wasn’t to sure about being in the database. I’ve never been comfortable with people having information on me that I don’t know about. It was like my high school records that I wasn’t even allowed to look at. That got me thinking about school. “How much longer is this going to be? I’ve already missed a month of school now.” My grades would have been enough to allow me to pass, but I wanted to go to college and I needed full credit and good grades for that.

“We have enough for a search warrant for his car and home,” Katherine said. “As soon as we do that we indent to make you know to him. I hope that makes him nervous enough to confess or slip up.”

I wasn’t so confident. I asked, “What judge is going to give you a search warrant for the car and home of the District Attorney?” I didn’t think we would ever have enough evidence to convince any judge that District Attorney Samuel Gerald Breyer was the serial murderer known as the Cadillac Killer. He was the son of a district court judge and the latest in a long line of judges and lawyers in his family. His great, great grandfather was even a Supreme Court judge.

“I got him,” A.J. interrupted. He set his tablet down on the desk so the rest of us could see the image and the database information.

Name:                             Stephen Hunter
DOB:                             Dec 18, 2021
Hair:                               Blond
Eyes:                              Blue
Height:                           5’11”
Power:                            3
Threat:                            Yellow
Physical Enhancements: None
Specialty/Class:              Telepath
Notes:                             Works as a mercenary. He has been known to sell his skills to the highest bidder.

The picture associated to the database entry was Steve, my dinner companion from last night. Linda looked at me and said, “You don’t have to worry about him getting through your shield. His power rating wouldn’t even detect that you have one.”

“Well that’s good,” I said. “I have another dinner date with him tonight.” All three looked at me with concern. “Relax, it’s just dinner. Tracy is taking your suggestion of celibacy seriously.” I might have looked like the former twenty-two year old prostitute, but I was still very much an eighteen year old virgin. I had no intention of sleeping with him, or anyone, until I was ready for something like that.

“Do you think you’ll be able to get into his head?” asked A.J. “Maybe you can find out who hired him.” For someone who doesn’t like telepaths running around inside his head, he sure is quick to suggest it for someone else.

“That is a bit unethical,” I said with a grin. “But I think I should have a look around as well, for my own self interest if nothing else.”

“There’s someone here to see you,” Linda said. For just a second I wonder who she could mean and then it dawns on me. “Send her in,” she said into the phone intercom. My mom walked through the second door of the conference room just s few seconds later.

“Mom,” I scream as I run to her and give her a big hug. It had been over two weeks since I’d seen her last but it seemed like a lifetime.

“I miss you too Sweetie,” she said into my ear without breaking the hug. We sat and talked about nothing for a while. It was nice to be able to see her and tell her how I was doing. I knew she hated this cat and mouse game we where playing, but she never said anything about it.

“So you ready to have Tracy take control again?” Linda asked as my Mom left the room.

“Why not, she’s kind of fun to live through.” The Tracy personality was a carefully constructed façade. It was based on all the information that could be gathered on the latest victim of the Cadillac Killer, the person that I was an exact double of at the moment. Linda had spend hours layering the personality down within my mind during telepathic sessions and allowed it to take control and go dormant with keywords and phrases. The hard part was controlling my natural telepathic shield to allow people to see this personality and not me. That had taken almost as long to learn as all the other part put together.

Katherine stood up and walked around to my side of the conference table and said, “Hello Tracy, it’s nice to finally meet you.”


The room is still spinning and I don’t remember sitting down. Ms. LeBlanc is still holding my hand and I smile at her before I let go.

“Have we met before?” she looks so familiar some how. I just can’t remember why.

“Not that I know of,” she said. Déjà vu is such a weird feeling when it happens. Somehow I knew she was going to say that.

“Dr. Mills tells me that you’re almost ready to make an arrest in my case,” I can’t help but show my excitement.

“Well, we still have to present the case to the District Attorney. He’s the one who gets to make that decision,” Ms LeBlanc explains. “But I’m very hopeful that he’ll just rubber stamp the whole thing and we can precede.”

“When will I get to meet him then,” I knew this would be the next step in the process.

“Very soon,” she said. “It will likely be within the next day or two.”

Our conversation continues for about twenty minutes before we run out of topics to discuss. I thank them for their time, shake hands and leave with A.J. again. As we climb into the car and head back to the hotel I ask, “Can we go shopping first? I think I’m becoming allergic to the hotel shampoo.”

“Sure,” he says. “There’s a grocery story on the way back we can stop at.”

“Thanks A.J.” I say as I lean over the centre console and give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

By the time we get back to the hotel I very hungry and decide to have a light dinner before my usual workout. If I’m hungry later I can order something from the bar. They have a nice snack menu and stay open until midnight. As I enter the hotel dinning room I see Steve is already there having a glass of wine. He sees me and waves me over. I head towards his table and blush as I remember my fantasy from last night. I put my purse and the small shopping bag down as the waiter hold the chair for me to sit.

“Would you like anything to drink Miss?” he asks.

“Just some water for now, thank you.” I don’t want to drink on an empty stomach and I definitely don’t want any of Steve’s wine. The waiter places a menu on the table and signals to the water boy to fill my glass. The boy who comes to fill my glass is short, with grey fur on his arms and face and a long bushy tail that sticks up behind him to the height of his head before curling over. He looks, to me, like a four and a half foot tall squirrel. He fills the glass and disappears silently, the tail twitching slightly behind him.

“So how was your day?” Steve asks and looks at my shopping bag. “Do a little shopping?”

“Just some shampoo,” I explain. “I think I’m allergic to the stuff they put in my room. It’s making my scalp itch.” As if on queue, my scalp becomes itchy again and I start the scratch it lightly. We continue to talk as we eat and I realize that I really like Steve. He’s easy to talk to and seems to have a very interesting life, traveling all over the country. I don’t understand the work that he does, but I’ve never been very good with finances. It’s hard talking to him and not being able to discuss my life, but it’s not a life that I’m particularly proud of. I’m just glad that I’m getting out of it. We finish dinner and are still talking when Steve surprises me with a question.

“One of the people that I was working with today told me of a night club nearby that has a really good DJ.” He looks at me with a cute, boyish expression and asks, “Would you like to go there tonight and do some dancing?”

I know that I shouldn’t be going out, but I need to get away from this place for a little while and I haven’t been dancing for so long. “I’d love to,” I answer excitedly. “I was going to go workout in the gym, but that sounds like a lot more fun. What’s the name of the place?” I figure I’d better get the name of it for A.J. so he can be there as well.

“The Dungeon or The Cellar I think,” Steve tries to remember. “I’m not sure, but they told me where it was and said it’s just a few minutes walk from here.”

“Sure why not,” it sounds like it could be fun. “I’ll meet you in the lobby for nine o’clock?”

“Great! I’ll meet you then,” his face lights up with excitement.

As I stand and grab my things I say, “I had better get going if I want be ready in time.”

Steve looks at his watch and chuckles, “Ok I’ll see you a little over two hours then.”

As soon as I get to the room I call A.J. to tell him about my plans, but only get his voice mail. I’m certain that the people watching me will let him know. So I start a nice warm bath with some bath oil. As the tub fills up I look at all the clothes I have available, looking for something that would be nice for a dance club. Since I don’t have a large selection with me, the decision is a bit more difficult than normal but I find something and lay it out on the bed. After that I head for the tub and make sure that the alarm on my watch is set in case I lose track of time.

I check my watch as I step off the elevator and notice that I’m only ten minutes late. Not too bad considering the things I needed to do to get ready. I look for where Steve is and notice him getting out of one of the large comfortable chairs near the front windows of the lobby. He’s dressed in a button down pale blue shirt, navy blue cotton pants and comfortable shoes. He looks very handsome. As I get closer I stop and do a slow turn to show off a little. My hair is pulled back into a half pony to keep it out of my face as I dance. The bottom half is brushed out straight down my back. The deep red wrap around dress is tied on the left side and comfortable enough to dance in. Its deep V neck is really too low to wear a bra with, but I have on a red lace bra anyway. It matches the dress well and will stop the ‘bouncing’ while we dance. The matching lace thong is just for me to feel pretty and to round out the outfit. I opted for small inch and a half sling back black heels. I could have gone with the red ones, but that would have been too much and wouldn’t match my purse.

“You look incredible,” he says as he talks my hand. We head out the front doors and start the short walk to the club.

As I look around I think to myself, “The guys that A.J. have on me are good. I don’t even see them.”

The club from the outside looks a little seedier than I would have expected for this neighborhood, but inside it’s quite impressive. The crowd is a good mix of people from very early twenties to their late forties. We seem to fit in rather well and the music is excellent. After dancing for what seems like hours I had to excuse myself to freshen up. Waiting me turn in the women’s washroom is never fun, but passing the time by chatting with several of the other women does make up for that. When I returned from the washroom, Steve was gone. A short hand written note under my drink simply said “I’ll be right back.” Picking up the drink I start to sip at it and figure he must have needed to go as well. I finish the drink as I wait for him to return.

The dancing and the drink seem to go straight to my head and I feel very dizzy. Steve is taking a really long time and I wonder if he’s ok. I hope he hasn’t had too much to drink. Just as I stand to ask one of the waiters to go into the men’s room to check on Steve I see someone come out of the men’s room that I thought I would never see again. At least I hoped that I would never see him again. The wavy brown hair and blue eyes are ones that I will never forget and they make my skin crawl. I feel my heart beat faster and my breathing becomes harder as the fear freezes my in place. I try to hide behind the crowd that separates us, but it’s no use he sees me and is heading right for me.

All I can think of is, “He’s going to try and kill me again!” As he to get a little closer I’m finally able to move. I grab my purse and run for the door. I need to get out, get away from him. The crowd slows him down and I make it to the door without him catching me. As I get to the door I yell at the bouncer, “Call the cops! He’s going to kill me!” I don’t even slow down as I run out and down the street looking for somewhere to hide. I try to look for the way back to the hotel, but I wasn’t paying attention when Steve and I walked here. I have no idea which way to go. I look behind me as I run down the street and see the killer come out of the club. He sees me running and starts after me. I’m running in a blind panic now and I have no idea where I’m going. I look over my shoulder and see him getting closer. I turn down a small street and hope I can lose him somehow, but the street is dark and a dead end. I try to hide behind some garbage cans and boxes. Just as I see him turn the corner to the street, my phone starts to ring.

“Shit! Not now!” I curse at the phone. I fish it out of my purse and look at the caller ID. It’s A.J. so I answer it. “Where the hell are you? He’s here!”

“Who’s there and where are you?” he seems way to calm for my liking and I start to get mad.

“The killer! Who do you think I mean?”

“Where are you? I was told you left the hotel with someone?” he says, sounding angry at me.

“We went to a dance club, we…” my conversation was interrupted by the phone being knocked out of my hand and a very familiar voice.

“We don’t need anyone else here babe! I prefer small parties.” The look in his eyes tells me this isn’t going to be any party I want to be a member of. I try to run past him but he grabs my arm and pulls me back to him. My heart is beating so hard it feels like it will explode in my chest. I start to cry.

“What… do… you… want?” I finally get out.

He grabs the hair at the back of my head a pulls it hard, making me look into his face. “I want you,” he says calmly just before he kisses me roughly. I try to push away, hit him and kick all at the same time, but none of it works. He’s too strong for me. During all the thrashing around I’m able to raise my knee and hit him in the groin.

He throws me to the ground and yells at me, “You’ll pay for that, bitch!”

As I land on the hard ground my head hits and the world spins crazily. I feel myself start to black out.


I woke up from my nightmare only to realize that I wasn’t a dream. I was lying on the ground in a dead end street with the killer on top of me. He was too big and strong for me and I couldn’t move. He was pulling at my clothes and holding me down at the same time while I tried to kick and punch at him.

“I like women with a bit of fight in them,” he said into my ear. “And when I’m done, I get to kill you again! And this time I’ll make sure you stay dead.”

I opened my mind in the hopes that someone was near by that I could get help from. All I got was the perverse lust from the killer and his need to satisfy his hunger. I saw what he wanted to do and how he indented to kill me when he was done and screamed. I was fighting and screaming so much I didn’t initially notice that he was in me. When I did, I wanted to throw up.

When he finished three things happened in rapid order. The first was that I felt like I wanted to die! The second was that I could actually feel my body start to change. That was when the third thing happened. I screamed louder and longer than I ever have before in my entire life. Long after the air was gone from my lungs, my mind was still screaming. I have no idea how long it lasted before I finally passed out.

I woke up in a hospital room with monitors and IV bags hanging over me. As things slowly came into focus I wondered why the IV was one of the MORFS energy packs. All I could think of was, “How long was I out this time?” I started to look around the room and noticed Linda was standing at the windows looking out.

“How long have I been out?” I asked her. The voice was not mine and I looked at my hands in horror. Linda jumped from my sudden question before walking over to my bed. From the look on her face I can tell she had been crying.

“I’m so sorry Cameron,” she started to cry all over again. “I had no idea that he would do that to you.”

I just stared at my hands. My large hairy hands attached to hairy arms and a very male chest and what I could only guess was a male body as well. I started to cry when the memory of that night came flooding back to me.

“I look like HIM, don’t I?” I spit out. The last thing in the world that I wanted to be was a man, and I certainly didn’t want to be HIM!

“We didn’t know what to do,” she tried to explain. “Your body had already started to change when we found the two of you. It’s been fighting the change for the last four days!”

“You found both of us?” I asked. “So you have him in jail now?”

She paused for a few seconds before answering, “No he’s not in jail”

“What!” I exploded. How could they have him and not having him in jail after what he did to me!

“He’s in the hospital here too,” she tried to explain. “What ever you did to him has put him into a coma. We found the two of you unconscious in the alley near the hotel. Your body was already starting to change and he was in a deep coma. He still hasn’t shown any signs of coming out of it.”

“We thought that it would be best to keep you sedated,” she continued. “At least until we knew if you would finish changing or go back to your previous form.”

“You know he’s killed a lot more than four women?” I said. “I saw into his mind when he attacked me. He’s been killing for a long time.”

“A.J. has a team of investigators looking over his entire life right now,” she answered. “We already found several… souvenirs in his home. You were the only person alive that knew about him though. We wouldn’t have been able to do anything about him without your help.”

“And this is the reward that I get,” I said as I looked at my hands.

“Well now that you’ve completed the change there’s no reason that you have to stay like that,” she tried to cheer me up. “And I suspect that you’ll be able to control whether you change or not in the future. The fact that you body was fighting the change is a good sign. You’ll need more practice to control it.”

“Ya but it’s not like I really get to choose who I can look like,” I replied. “You know how my shape shifting works. I can never go back to looking like I was before all this happened, even if I wanted to. As far as I know there is no DNA sample from my original body.”

“No, there isn’t,” she confirmed. “But there is this.” With that she placed a small vial on the table in front of me. It looked like it contained a small amount of blood.

“What’s that?” I had my suspicions, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

“I have some friends in the medical examiners office,” she explained with a grin on her face. “I pulled a few strings and was able to get that.”

“But what is it?” I was starting to get impatient. “Or should I ask whose is it?”

“It’s a sample of blood from the autopsy of Tracy Williams. It’s been frozen ever since.”

“Has my Mom seen me?” I didn’t want her to see me like this. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this.

“Yes, she’s been in everyday since you where admitted,” she told me. “She’s waiting for you to say it’s ok for her to come in.”

“Can you tell her to come back tomorrow,” I said as I cracked open the vial and smeared the blood all over my hands.

“I don’t think she’ll have to wait that long, but I’ll tell her.” Linda just smiled as she stepped out of the room to find my Mom. I could feel that changes again and welcomed them. Less than three hours later a six foot, one hundred and eighty pound version of what Cameron had come to see as herself was sleeping in the bed and having much more pleasant dreams. The extra weight and height would go soon enough.



As I sit in my room and read through these notes I’m struck by all the things that I’ve lost. I lost my body and almost lost my identity completely, but it’s the other things that hurt the most. Losing my virginity was beyond words and losing my innocence was almost as hard. What I’ve gotten in return is a small consolation. I have a body that’s more fitting than my original one, but the abilities that come along with it are scary. I’m not as nervous about touching people as I once was. I can sense their DNA from a simple hand shake and I think I’d be able to change with that much contact eventually. But for now I figure I need more DNA than can be passed simply by touching.

I have to remind myself to thank Linda. It was her idea for me to write all this down. She said something about getting it out of my head and not having to dwell on it afterwards. I thought she was crazy, but it actually works. Now that I see the words written down they’re not so scary, there just words.

Linda’s been helping me deal with all the horrible things that have happened over this short period of time. As well as coming to grips with what and who I am now. She’s also been teaching me to use the telepathy and empathy with my natural shield. It doesn’t hurt to open up my mind to others anymore, but the thoughts that I get are sometimes just as hard to deal with. I don’t think that people are ready for telepaths yet. Not until they having there own form of shield. Their thoughts are just too… raw.

I have to make sure that I thank A.J. as well. I think he blames himself a lot for what happened to me. I didn’t realize that there were only two people in the entire hotel to look over me. Or that I had completely given them the slip the night that I went to the club. I guess it was my image of all the bad cop shows that gave me the impression that there would be dozens of them all over the place. The fact that they found me so fast during the attack was comforting. It was a good thing I answered that phone call from A.J. after all. That’s how they were able to find me.

They tried to arrest Steve Hunter as well, but it turns out that he didn’t do anything illegal. He was hired to find me, confirm my identity and then deliver me to the agreed location, where he was paid off and left. It may have been unethical and was definitely an inappropriate use of his abilities, but not quite illegal. They may have been able to charge him as an accessory, but the police would have to prove that he knew a crime was going to be committed.

It took about two months of summer classes to get caught up with all the school work that I missed, but it was well worth the time. Linda had another surprise for me after I graduated. It turns out that she’s not just a consultant to the police department, but she also consults for a secret branch of the federal government. She didn’t tell me which one, but she said it has something to do with the monitoring and tracking of all the registered MORFS survivors. She wants me to thing about joining them. With my ability to look like anyone and be able to pass a telepathic scan, I would make an excellent ‘operative’. It sounds exciting and I’m seriously considering it. The only draw back is that I’d be away from Mom for long periods at a time and we’ve just started to get along so well. I can’t tell her all the details and if I do go they tell me I’ll have to start at one of their college’s in another city. I was hoping to be able to go away to college someday, so I guess it wouldn’t be too bad.

I’ve already seen the file they started for me. I almost laughed at the code name they gave me:



The End, or is it?


The entire MORFS  Universe can be found at http://morfs.nowhere2go.org/