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Salamander By EMW Ch1 - The Beginning (Mort) When I think back to how my previous life ended, I find it amazing that my prior existence lasted so long, and that I mourned its loss at all, knowing what I know now. In many ways, going through MORFS, and becoming someone else was the best thing to happen to me, even though my birth into my new life was a painful and frightening one. I often wonder if I had been given the choice, knowing where it would lead, and the cost associated with it, would I have chosen to become this new person. Impossible to say. My name is, or should I say, was, Mortimer Wilson and I was a 15 years old boy. Yes I know, not exactly the best name to be saddled with. Then again at least I didn't get any obscure middle names that I would need to hide. Most people called me Mort (which I didn't mind), or Morty (which I hated even more than my full name). I lived in a relatively large village, called Little Greenvale, that borders the sprawling conurbation of Oxford. Given the rate of expansion, and desire of people to live close to the tech centres along the Thames, I have no doubt it will be subsumed one of these days, but so far, that has been prevented, thanks, in no small part, to the large proportion of local politicians and upper class types who live in the area, calling in various favours. It is a place where the old values still rule, and prominent land owners still lord it over the common man. It is a place of strong Christian values, and a part of the world that has remained fairly unchanged for the better part of a hundred years. It is also a place where they do not look kindly on people changed by MORFS, especially those unfortunate enough to be hybrids. My family had a great deal to do with this. My father, Grant Wilson, is a local landowner and farmer. He prides himself on (as he puts it) his "moral purity". No one in the family has openly undergone MORFS. There have been instances of family members suddenly up and vanishing to live abroad, (or any of a dozen excuses and euphemisms, which at the time I didn't recognise but now understand better) but they are fairly few and far between. Mostly limited to people who married into the family. My father is a tough man, who speaks his mind, and expects to be obeyed. He has little time for the opinions of anyone else. The only man he listens to is his older brother Richard, or Reverend Wilson. He runs the local church, and oversees his parish's spiritual well-being with an iron fist. He is of the fire and brimstone school of preaching. In his lengthy Sunday sermons, he expounds hatred of those who have been afflicted with MORFS, attributing their change to unchristian living. He also advocates the public shunning of these individuals, labelling them demons who have possessed the souls of the living. Their efforts to make Little Greenvale a haven against the unclean individuals changed by MORFS have been quite successful, attracting a large number of like-minded individuals, who have taken up roles in the community from local law enforcement, to running the local businesses, to staffing local schools, and even the local politicians. This has made the village a very closed community, and very unfriendly to those who have obviously undergone MORFS. While laws supposedly prevent discrimination, on the few occasions that locals have changed as a result of MORFS, or people have tried to move to the area who were affected, they have been given steadily increasing and unpleasant incentives to move elsewhere. When all the local authorities are allied against, you making a complaint about harassment does little good. So growing up in such an environment, you can understand why I might have a somewhat twisted view of people who had been changed by MORFS. Not all people in the village felt that way, but anyone who publicly expressed an opinion contrary to the line taken by the ruling elite, was given almost the same treatment as someone afflicted by MORFS, so most kept quiet. I have a brother, and a sister, both older than me. My brother, Grant Junior, is very much his father's son, a real chip off the old block. He and I don't get along. He is everything I am not, strong and athletic, captain of the local rugby team, and reasonably good at school (enough to get by, at any rate). He is also a bully, and extremely arrogant. He makes my life hell, his dominance of me is something Father seems to find amusing. My sister Gwen is the only member of my family I like. She is a good deal older than me, at 19, but we get on quite well. She some how manages to stand outside the usual family pecking order, even defying father, if not openly. Despite repeated attempts by my Father and Mother to marry her off into a good family, she has remained free of such entanglements, and is planning to go to university as soon as she can earn enough money to pay for her tuition fees. (Since father refused to waste money on sending a daughter to college when she should be married, yet another attitude of fathers anchored in the dark ages). She is a very beautiful young lady, not just because of her good looks, but for her warm loving heart. The family tolerates her, mainly because they believe she will come around once she settles down. The rest of my family is just as bad as Father. My mother, Mary Wilson, is a member of the women's group for village happiness and well being. Ostensibly a social group, they are really another side of the control over the village. They organise all the social events, and act as a rudimentary spy network, gossiping and exposing any local secrets. On more than one occasion, it has been this group who outed those who tried to keep their affliction with MORFS a secret, even occasionally outing people who had never undergone any changes simply out of spite, or some affront to their collective control. I am the youngest member of the family, and a constant disappointment to the bulk of the family. I was scrawny, standing a mere 5'3," and useless at any kind of sport. I preferred a nice quiet read, instead of rushing about a muddy field in the freezing cold with an inflated pigs bladder. I was not hideous at school work, but by no means exceptional. As a result, I was treated at best, as invisible, at worse a disappointment. That changed one Friday in October 2035, it was turning autumn the leaves were beginning to fall and the nights were drawing in. I was on my way back from school. It was now out for a week, due to an anti-MORFS protest all the local big-wigs were going to, and local children were expected to attend as well, for moral fibre. I was a bit unhappy at the closure, for two reasons. One was the reason behind the closure, and the other was the fact that I had actually been enjoying school for once. We had been studying animals, and some children had even brought in exotic pets to show. Since the local school was run by the village in a pseudo private manner, such closures happened quite frequently. The head teacher, Mr Thomas, had been fired from a prominent position at a private school for his refusal to teach students who had undergone MORFS, so teaching at little Greenvale was something of a dream job for him. As such, he had no problem with closing the school for such events. I hated such events, though mainly due to the requirement to spend hours marching to protest in my parent's and brother's company (my sister always finding some way of being elsewhere those days). Protesting against people with MORFS, and any laws to help, them didn't really bother me then. I had been conditioned practically from birth to think that people who had been changed by MORFS were evil monsters. It was the fact that the marching usually gave me blisters I hated, and this time it would be worse due to it being a weeklong set of protests up and down the country, culminating in a march on parliament. The very thought of all the marching, and sleeping in a cold tent with my brother was making me feel sick. At least that's what I thought at the time. I got back home to our house, which was a converted barn. It had a lovely rustic look, with all exposed timber beams, even if the lack of proper insulation and double glazing made the place draughty. I felt like death warmed up, and was met by my mother who gave me a cold look. "You are late!" she told me. "You are well aware we need to be off promptly to meet with the group" Her expression was beginning to become a sneer of distaste. "I wasn't feeling too well," I replied weakly. By now my nausea was accompanied by a dull throbbing pain in my head. "I'm in no mood for your nonsense tonight," she snapped. "What I ever did to deserve an ungrateful wretch of a son like you, I will never know. I've a good mind to have your father teach you a jolly good lesson about being punctual." I paled at her threat, I did not want to receive another of my father's punishments, it would mean the belt for sure. "If only there were the time," she said almost regretfully. "Go and get your bag ready now, before I change my mind" I hurried off quickly to avoid getting further into her bad books. I could only hope that she would forget this, or I might get a worse punishment later. I rushed up stairs to my small room. On the way I nearly ran into my brother, who shoved me roughly out of the way, and I staggered back against the wall. "Look where you're going, pip squeak!" he shouted, with a nasty grin on his face. As he strode of down the corridor with a confident swagger, I just knew he was going to make this week a nightmare. I pulled myself back on to my feet and continued to my room. My headache was getting worse. I gathered what I needed for the week as quickly as possible, not wanting to anger my mother any more than she already was. Just as I was zipping up rucksack ready to go, I suddenly felt on the brink of throwing up. I raced to the bathroom, barely making it in time. I was violently sick in the toilet, and while I was recovering, I heard someone walk into the bathroom. I looked up expecting the worst, to see my sister standing in the doorway with a look of concern on her face. "Mort, are you all right?" she said with a worried look in her eyes. I tried to answer her, but was sick again. Then I heard a booming voice shout from downstairs. "What the devil are you doing up there boy? Get down here this instant! Don't make me come up there, or you'll regret it!" my father yelled. A few seconds later I heard him stomping up the stairs. "You asked for it, boy!" he growled. I turned to see my sister shoved aside, as my father walked into the doorway with a look of fury on his face, at which point I threw up again. By the time I had recovered enough to look back, the look of fury had been replaced by one of disgust and contempt. "Mort isn't well," my sister said quietly. "He probably needs to see a doctor" "Stupid baby's just faking," sneered my brother from the corridor. He had obviously followed my father back up, in the hopes of seeing a beating. "We don't have time for this. We need to be going, now!" my father exclaimed angrily. "Look leave Mort with me, I'll take care of him. You get off to your protest," my sister reasoned. My father snorted and fiddled with his watch. "All right but when I get back we are going to have words, boy," he threatened. With that he was gone. I heard the door slam and a car drive off moments later. I could only hope that the protest went so well that when he got back he forgot his anger at me. "Come on," my sister said while helping me up, now my sickness seemed to have subsided a bit. "Let's get you cleaned up, and into bed. Then I'll call Dr Benson to see if he can come and take a look at you." I nodded weakly as she helped me wash my face, then helped me to my room and tucked me in to bed. I was too weak to undress, so just fell into bed fully clothed. Despite my splitting headache, I must have passed out, as the next thing I knew I was being shaken awake by my sister, and Dr Benson stood at the foot of my bed. Dr Benson was the local g.p. (general practitioner) a kindly old fellow. He was also one of the few local people who spoke out openly against the anti-MORFS attitude of the village. He had been pressured to reveal patients who had undergone MORFS, and to not offer treatment to those affected, and had steadfastly refused. Various people had tried to have him struck off the medical register, but he was an outstanding doctor, with an impeccable record so all had failed. As a result, most of the high and mighty snubbed him, and tried to pressure him to retire. "How are you feeling, young Mortimer?" he asked with a gentle smile. "Your sister tells me you are not feeling too well." I sat up, and managed a quiet, "I've been better, Doctor." "Why don't you tell me your symptoms, lad," he replied. I went on to describe the sickness, the headache, the muscle pains, and anything else I could think of. The doctor hummed and ahh'd a bit then opened his medical bag. "Right, let's take a look at you then." He pulled out a stethoscope. He listened to my heart, proceeded to take my blood pressure, check my temperature, and all the usual doctor things. He stood there with a frown for a bit, as if in thought, then rummaged around in his bag for a bit, coming out with a small white box. He opened up the package and took from it a small box with a hole in one end, a small vial of liquid, and what looked like a pin sealed in a sterile container. "This is a blood testing kit, which I just want to use to rule something out," the doctor said calmly, though I thought I saw a glimmer of worry in his eyes. "OK, What do I do?" "Just hold your finger here," Dr Benson said. "I'm just going to prick your finger, there we go." The doctor pricked my finger and allowed a small drop of blood to fall into the hole in the tester. He then put a plaster on my finger, and added the contents of the vial to the hole. He gently shook the tester. "This will just take a moment." I was beginning to worry, what was wrong with me, that was so bad the doctor would not even mention what he was testing for? Dr Benson looked at a small results strip in the tester, and compared it to a key in the instructions. He seemed to be checking the results very thoroughly, as if he didn't want the result he had. Then he put the test down and said quietly, "Oh dear." "What is it, doctor?" my sister said worriedly. "I'm afraid ... " he said hesitantly pausing, and looking me right in the eye, "... you are in the first stage of Massive Ontogenetic Regulation Failure Syndrome or MORFS" Ch2 - Transition (Mort) I was too shocked to speak. The doctor was muttering, that there was nothing to worry about, and other semi comforting nonsense. I barely heard him. "But ... I ... How!?" I stammered. The doctor gave me a sympathetic look, "Despite what your father believes, there is nothing supernatural about MORFS. The fact that your family has been relatively unaffected by the disease was no guarantee this would always be the case. All it takes is the right infection to trigger the syndrome. The fact that most of the rest of your immediate family haven't undergone MORFS is sheer luck." He paused a took a pad out of his bag, "I'm going to prescribe some energy packs, which will help your body get through the illness quickly." He wrote some trademark doctor unintelligible scribble on the pad, tore off the sheet, and handed it to my sister. "I don't recommended you try and get that locally," he commented dryly. "For one thing, the local pharmacist refuses to stock it, and it would also attract unwanted attention." He turned to look at me. "I am well aware of your situation, and normally, in the case of a minor such as yourself, I would be required to inform your parents of you current condition. However, in this case, I feel that would do far more harm than good. Cheer up, its not the end of the world, you know. There is a good chance you will come through this unscathed. All that matters now, is to let the sickness run its course, and take things from there." He smiled faintly, gave me a pat on the shoulder, then stepped out into the corridor. My sister went with him, and I could hear them talking, but I was too much in shock to try and overhear what the were saying. What was I going to do! Right now, I could be turning into a monster! What would happen to me when my father found out? I was terrified. A few moments later my sister came back into my room. "Lets get you into your pyjamas, then I'll head in to town to pick up your medicine," she said, helping me out of bed and handing me my bed clothes. "Don't worry too much. I'm sure things will turn out fine" I got changed and she helped me into bed, giving me a hug. Stepping out of the room, she returned with a basin, which she put by my bed. "I'm going to leave you this, in case you feel sick again. I'll have my phone with me if you need me. Try and get some rest, and I'll be back soon." She gave me a small smile before heading off. I did my best to sleep, but my headache had returned with a vengeance. Thankfully, my sickness seemed to have subsided a bit to a general unwell feeling. Somehow I managed to doze a bit, and a few hours later, my sister returned with a bag of medicine. She said handed me a plastic medicine bottle full of ominous brown liquid, "OK, you need to drink this down, and then take one of these pills to help you to sleep" I knocked back the bottles contents grimacing at its horrible taste. "Yealch!" I exclaimed. "Well you know what they say, if medicine tastes nice, it doesn't do you any good," my sister quipped. "The pill should knock you out. I'll try and be here when you wake up, but if I'm not, make sure you take another dose from the bag. Dr Benson said it will make the disease pass quicker and easier." "OK," I took the pill she handed me. I lay back, and my sister leaned over and kissed my forehead. "Sweet dreams Mort" she said with a smile as I drifted off into a dreamless sleep. When I came to, it was dark, the middle of the night. I still felt awful. In addition to the sickness and headache, all my muscles ached. I looked around and saw my sister sitting on a chair across from my bed fast asleep. I decided not to wake her and quietly gulped down another bottle of the gunge and popped the pill, and it was back to unconsciousness. When I next surfaced, it was midmorning. I staggered out of bed and made my way down to the bathroom. I felt very odd my pyjamas were pinching me everywhere. I noticed my skin was covered in a layer of ooze. 'Maybe that caused my clothes to shrink.' I reasoned. I answered the call of nature, then took a quick shower. I had a quick look in the mirror while drying off, but didn't see anything odd. My hair looked a touch longer, but hopefully I could get through this and no one need ever know. I put on my bathrobe, and headed back to my room to find my sister changing my sheets. "How are you feeling?" she asked. "Pretty awful." She gathered up the dirty sheets, adding my pyjamas to them. "Well take your medicine, and get off to bed. You'll feel a lot better to get it over with." As she headed out to take care of the washing, I grabbed another pair of pyjamas, downed another bottle of medicine and took a pill. As I was drifting off to sleep it occurred to me that these pyjamas were pinching too. I woke up in the middle of the night again. My sister wasn't there, but I can't say I blamed her. I can't imagine sleeping on that chair was comfortable. My bed clothes were pinching some more, especially around the hip area. I tried to get more comfy, but gave up and took my meds. Chemically enforced sleep claimed me again. The next day I awoke to quite severe pain. Rather than the headache or nausea or muscle pain I'd had previously, this pain was caused by my pyjamas cutting into my flesh. In the night they had gone from pinching, to cutting off the circulation. I managed to get them off, having to rip them in a few places to get free. Feeling relief at having circulation restored to my limbs, I grabbed my bathrobe and staggered over to the bathroom. My balance seemed even worse than the day before. After cleaning up I checked my reflection. My hair was longer, and I realised I was taller. I realised I was changing more radically than I had hoped, and fear was threatening to surface. Still, hopefully, if I slouched a lot for a few weeks, and got a hair cut, no one would notice. I could pass off the extra height as a growth spurt. Yes, I was so sure that would work that I suppressed the rising panic. My sister had left some clean sheets out, so after I slipped on a large t shirt, changed my bedding. As I was gathering up the old sheets to put them in the washing basket, Gwen wandered in. She picked up my ripped pyjamas, looked at them for a bit then gave me an appraising look. "I think I got a bit bigger," I said. My voice cracked halfway through speaking, and I coughed to try and clear my throat. Gwen gave a small frown. "Yes you must be a good 3 inches taller. I thought you looked a bit bigger yesterday, but wasn't sure." Suddenly feeling very weak, I stumbled back a bit. My sister grabbed me and held me steady. Then she helped me into bed and handed me my meds. After I knocked them back, I passed out again. This time, when I woke up in the night, my face, my hands, my back, my feet and a few other bits of me itched. I scratched absently, then jumped in pain. My nails seemed to have become really sharp. For some reason, my vision was all blurry, and it being dark I couldn't see much. I figured my nails were growing like my hair. I grabbed another bottle and pill, and went back to sleep. In the morning, I followed my usual routine and headed to the bath room. I noticed the skin that had been itching last night was beginning started to peel, and it also had a sort of bumpy texture to it. My nails had changed colour and more alarmingly, had become pointed. I was not happy with that. I dried off and checked myself out in the mirror. I was taller, had talon like nails on my hands and feet, plus, my proportions were odd. My hips seemed wider. I had the same patches of bumpy peeling skin down the sides of my face and neck, joining into a patch down the middle of my back, with bits on my hands and feet. Then I saw my eyes! They seemed to have no irises. Being large black pupils, they looked inhuman. As I stared at them in horror, it got worse, as a thin film flicked across my eyes. Part of me calmly realised it was a nictitating membrane like you see on lizards. The rest of me was horrified. With a high pitched moan, I collapsed to the floor. Gwen came rushing in. "What is it! What's wrong?" she exclaimed. I regarded her with my inhuman eyes, realising I no longer blinked. "I'm turning into a monster," I wailed. My sister grabbed me, and held me. "No you're not. No matter what father and his cronies would say, you are not a monster!" More gently, she said, "Come on, back to bed. Let's get this over with. We can deal with the future, then." I was soon asleep again. I woke up late, or possibly it was early, depending on your point of view. I scratched my face, and felt the skin peel off. The surface underneath seemed more bumpy, and felt odd. I forced my hands away, not wanting to know. In the process I brushed my chest, discovering another aspect of my change, two protrusions on my chest. Breasts, small breasts, but undoubtedly there. Hurriedly, I reached for my meds, half praying this was some delusional nightmare brought on by the sickness. If not, I wanted to be safely unconscious before I discovered any more horrific changes. I woke up feeling odd, but no longer sick. I was finally finished with the change. Now I had to face the twisted creature it had made me. I pulled back the covers and stood up. The whole room looked smaller, I had obviously grown some more during the night. I looked down at myself. The once tent like t shirt, was now very tight across the chest, and barely came down to my hips, which seemed to have widened considerably. I needed to see the extent of the damage, I needed a mirror. I left my room, padded down the corridor, and went into the bathroom. I decided to get it all out of the way in one go. so I quickly whipped off my t shirt and, mentally bracing myself, turned to face the mirrors. A girl stood there, naked, staring at me. A freak girl, who bore an uncanny resemblance to my sister. She was tall, with what could probably be called an athletic build. She had reasonably sized breasts and wide hips, making her body pretty sexy and pleasing to look at. Her hair was shoulder length and very light brown. Her crotch was obviously feminine, but had no pubic hair. As the girl in the mirror reached up to cup her breasts, I saw that her hands were strange. She had black nails, like talons, and her hands were covered with scales. The pads of her fingers looked odd, not scaly, but certainly not skin. The scales which were a light brown, with a white speckle pattern to above her wrists. Her feet matched her hands, and she also had a stripe of scales down either side of her face and neck, running over her shoulders. As she turned it became apparent that the two stripes joined, becoming a patch of scales running down the middle of her back, stopping just above her full posterior. Her face was both gorgeous, and a bit scary, much like the rest of her. Her eyes had no visible iris, making it look like she had two very large pupils. Her eyes were unblinking. Every now and then they flickered, as nictitating membranes flashed across. Her lips looked very kissable, but as she licked her lips, her tongue seemed to stretch out way too far. I felt my hand cup a handful of soft firm flesh, and felt my new chest being cupped by a small hand. I looked down, seeing my scaly hand gripping my newly grown bosom. The disconnect between the girl in the mirror, and me came crashing down. She looked, I looked, simultaneously beautiful, exotic, and frightening. I collapsed to the floor, shaking uncontrollably. When I screamed, even my voice was different, higher and softer, even with the anguish. When Gwen came running in and saw me on the floor, she grabbed me and held me, gently rocking me back and forth as I sobbed endlessly. After a while, I calmed a bit, and was able to talk through my tears. As I did so, I realised my tongue felt odd. I feared I had gained a forked tongue to go with my other demonic qualities. Though from what I could see, the tip though slightly misshapen, was not forked. "Why is ... this ... ha .. .pening t ... to me?" I wailed. "I always prayed, and was good like Uncle Richard said. Why is God punishing me by turning me into this sub-human monster" "Now you mustn't think that way, Mort!" Gwen lightly stroked my hair. "You are not a monster!" "But Uncle Richard ..." I started. "IS WRONG!" Gwen interrupted, making me sit back in surprise "Mort, this isn't a curse from god, or any kind of punishment. It could happen to anyone. Uncle Richard has always preached hate against those changed by MORFS, and his hate has poisoned your thinking. The Bible teaches love and understanding, Uncle Richard and father have twisted that message for their own ends." I looked deep into my sisters eyes, and saw only love and compassion. I also felt a strange warm feeling radiating from her, like warm sunlight. I wasn't sure what that was, but it comforted me. I hugged her some more, and cried a bit, but I was beginning to feel a lot better. As long as my sister still loved me, there was some hope. When she helped me up, I realised I was slightly taller than she was. "You must be at least 6 foot tall now!" She sounded as surprised as I was. "None of your old clothes are likely to fit, maybe some of mine will." I abruptly realised I was completely naked. I made an attempt to cover myself, but Gwen told me, "Don't be silly. You have nothing I haven't seen before. And besides, we are all girls here now." She led me to her room, and sat me on her bed. "I guessed you would need these from the way your changes were going." she handed me an unopened pack of plain cotton panties. "Hopefully I can find something else for you to wear. You'll have to go without a bra for now, as I don't think mine will fit you." I grimaced, but put on a pair of the panties, which fit reasonably well. Gwen threw a t shirt and some slacks at me, which though on the tight side, were reasonably comfy. She followed them with a pair of socks and some trainers. My razor sharp toe nails tore holes in the ends of the socks, and the trainers were awfully tight, but they would do for now. We then had some breakfast. I was famished, eating three helpings of cereal. After breakfast we went and sat in the living room. "What am I going to do?" I asked. "Well, first things first. We better get Dr Benson to check you out. We can deal with the rest a bit later. The protest is scheduled to run till the end of the week, so you don't have to worry about what happens with father for a while," Gwen said. "I'll call ahead, you look for a jacket or something to hide your appearance a touch. We don't want the kind of hassle seeing you in the village would bring. Try looking in Grant's stuff. You're probably a bit taller than him now, but he should have something that will fit you." I wandered upstairs to my brothers room. and after some rummaging, found a large hoody which fit and some gloves. Suitably covered, I should be able to pass unnoticed. Looking at my reflection, I saw that with the hood pulled up, and gloves on, I looked more or less like a normal girl. I realised I would probably need to make a conscious effort to blink if we got close to anyone. I would also have to hope it would prevent my nictitating membranes from doing their thing, otherwise someone might see through my camouflage. I debated wearing sunglasses but it was late in the year, I figured it would be too obvious that I was trying to hide myself, and I'd attract more attention as a result. I pulled my hood up and shoved my hands in my pockets, trying to project sulking moody teenager, rather than inhuman freak trying to hide their hideous form. So long as no one looked too closely, I reckoned I might get away with it. I went back down stairs. Gwen and I went out the front door, and hopped in her small car. I found my increased size made it a tougher squeeze than usual. I had to push the seat a lot further back to stop my knees bashing the dashboard. As we drove over to Dr Benson's clinic, I became more and more apprehensive. With it being a weekday, and what with the protest, things should be relatively quiet. Still, I had visions of angry mobs with pitchforks trying to kill the monster. We arrived at the clinic with no sign of any mobs, hurried in, and took a seat in the waiting room. This being a small clinic, there was no receptionist, and the doctors office had the 'in session' light lit. The room had one other person in it, a young girl probably 10 or so, who was flicking through a magazine I got a strange warm sensation from her, similar to the one I'd got from my sister earlier, but this was different. It felt dull, but flared briefly when the girl looked up at us, then faded back down again. I wondered what these strange feelings I was getting were. It was all so confusing. I shrugged it off and picked up a magazine. More people came in. A mother and her son arrived and sat down, I tried to make myself as small as possible, in the hopes people would ignore me, which was hard, since I was probably the tallest person in the room. I could feel more of the strange feelings from the newcomers but I forced them out of my mind. A short while later, the door opened, and Dr Benson walked out talking to a young mother leading a small girl. Dr Benson shook the woman's hand, then glanced around the room, his eyes coming to rest on me and Gwen. There was a brief flare of surprise as he regarded me, then in an even tone of voice, he said, "Ah Gwen, this must be your cousin you mentioned on the phone. Why don't you bring her through?" Gwen led me into the doctors office. Behind us, he was talking with the other people waiting. We both sat down and a few moments later, Doctor Benson came back in and sat down. "Now then, young Mortimer, I hope you don't mind the small amount of subterfuge earlier." He grinned, "But I thought it wise to prevent word of your change reaching the community at large just yet, given the unfriendly attitude of certain community members to people in your situation." He paused, and gave me a sympathetic look. "How are you doing? Your change appears quite drastic. if your sister hadn't called and told me beforehand, I doubt I would have recognised you, even given the resemblance between you and Gwen" I thought for a bit then answered quietly, "I feel very strange. The sickness is almost completely gone, but I feel weird in this body." Dr Benson nodded, "Well then, shall we get started? Would you like your sister to stay?" I nodded, and then we were in to the examination. The doctor had me undress and sit on an examination table at the back of his office, where he poked and prodded me in all sorts of places which embarrassed me no end. He checked my blood pressure, shined lights into my eyes and ears etc. and once finished, let me dress again before giving me the results. "Well, you seem to be in perfect health as far as I can determine. If anything, I would say you are in better physical condition than your last check up. You are, as far as I can tell, completely female. You may want to see a specialist to check that. Your height has increased to 6 foot 1 inches. You also seem to be heavier than you should be for that height, which judging by your muscle tone, may be due to increased muscle mass, or perhaps, higher bone density. You could learn more about your more unique alterations by going to a specialist post-MORFS centre. Regrettably, there is not one in the area, but I can recommend one, and arrange an appointment when you are feeling up to it." "You will, of course, need to register your changed condition with the government, so that your new appearance and gender can be recorded, and new identity papers can be issued. The post-MORFS centres often have the facilities to deal with this process, and will be able to help with any paperwork," Doctor Benson said. "Thank you, Doctor." "No problem at all, it's what I'm here for. Don't hesitate to call if you need anything," he said. "I know you are going to have a difficult time of it, so if you need any help, or just a sympathetic ear, give me a ring." I was touched by Dr Benson's gesture. It was good to know there were people out there who would help me. As we were leaving, I forgot to put my hood back up to cover my face, and as we walked out of the doctors office the young woman looked up. Her eyes locked on me, going wide, I felt the strange feeling again, though this time it was searingly hot and painful. Her face distorted into a mask of rage. "Monster!" she screamed. "How dare you bring that unclean thing here. There are children it could attack. Get that inhuman beast out of here this instant, before its evil damns us all!" She had clutched her son close to her, shielding him from me. I quickly tried to cover my twisted form, but the woman still gazed at me with fury. Gwen fixed the woman with a cold stare and said, "She is far more human than you will ever be, with your stupid superstitions, and lack of compassion." I hurried out, not wanting to attracted any more attention, glancing back to see Gwen give the woman another hard look before she followed. "Don't let them get to you Mort. They are small minded fools who know nothing." We jumped back in her car, and drove back home. The incident at the doctor's office had shaken me. The doctor's kindness had made me forget what I had become, a horrible freak, a monster' like the woman said. A few people might accept me, but they would be in the minority. I would have to resign myself to a life hidden away from society, lest my terrible visage scare the normal untainted humans. When we got home, Gwen made a pot of tea. A nice cuppa did lift my mood a little. A short while later, we heard the sound of a car pulling up. Gwen went to take a look. "It's Officer Stevens!" she exclaimed. "Quickly, go up to your room. You've done nothing wrong, but that won't stop someone like him making trouble if he finds you here." I rushed upstairs, and hid where I could hear what was going on. If things turned bad, I wanted some warning, so I could make a run for it. Officer Stevens was one of the local policemen, and one of the most rabid of the anti-MORFS. He was quick to anger, and favoured violence as a solution to most problems. He was a thug, plain and simple. The doorbell rang, and Gwen answered it a short while later. "Yes?" Gwen said simply. "Gwen, can I come in and have a word?" Officer Stevens asked. "I suppose," Gwen replied . "So long as it doesn't take too long, I've a very busy schedule today." I heard the door shut and the sound of footsteps. I guessed they had gone into the living room, which was confirmed a few moments later when I heard voices coming from there. "We got word from a reliable citizen, that you were in the doctor's office with one of them animals," Officer Stevens voice was dripping with malice. "I don't see how that would be any business of yours, even if it were true," Gwen said with an air of indifference. "Now look here, Missy! Those things are dangerous. You may think it fun to rebel against your betters by bringing one of them demons into our town, but you are really putting yourself and everyone around you at risk. Now you'd best tell me where the monster is hiding, so I can take care of it before it decides to snack on a local child," snarled Officer Stevens. "I have no idea what you are talking about, I would suggest that whoever told you these stories was making them up," Gwen responded. Officer Stevens went quiet. I suspected he was thinking about taking my sister in to question further, but given who her family was, he couldn't risk it without more direct proof. He knew who called the shots in Greenvale. It would be a different matter if he had seen us together. At best, both of us would be in the jail on trumped up charges. I didn't even want to imagine what the worst outcome might be. "Alright Missy, if that's the way you want to play it," Officer Stevens said angrily. "But if I find you with one of them freaks, you'll be sorry!" A short time later, I heard the sound of the door opening and closing, then a car driving off. I waited a bit, not wanting to come down until I knew it was safe. "You can come down now, Mort," my sister called out from downstairs. I wandered back down. My sister looked a bit shaken, but more angry than anything else. I tried not to think about what this latest encounter would mean, and what a nightmare my life had become. We sat quietly drinking our tea, then Gwen decided it was time for lunch. The rest of the day passed in a daze. It was soon early evening, and Gwen and I were watching some television. That's probably why we didn't hear the car draw up or the front door open. The first I knew about it was that strange burning heat feeling flaring up in several points behind me, then hearing a loud voice from the now open doorway. "What is that thing doing in my house!" said my father. I turned in shock. Behind him, mother and my brother both stood with looks of hate on their faces. The protest must have finished early. Terror filled me as I wondered what was I going to say. Gwen acted first. "Mort go up to your room! I will talk to father," she said firmly. The momentary shock of Gwen calling me Mort, seemed to freeze father, and I quickly ran to my room. I could hear raised voices, but not make out the words. Brief surges of the odd feelings punctuated the sounds, with the hot burning feeling and a strange prickly sensation that gradually increased. The sensations were beginning to worry me, where were they coming from and what were they? A short while later I heard the sound of running footsteps. Gwen burst into my room. "Mort! You've got to get out of here. Father's gone crazy!" she said franticly. My brother burst through the door, and grabbed Gwen. "Get away from that monster, you stupid girl!" he shouted, eyeing me with hate. A second later father entered, carrying a shotgun. "No! Father, it's me, Mort!" I pleaded. "You are merely the demon that has infested Mort's body," he snarled. "I will free his soul" He loaded the shotgun, and pointed it at me. Surely he wasn't going to shoot me. I raised my hands towards him. and tried to make him calm down a bit. The shotgun went off., There was a deafening roar, and my sister screamed. The blast shredded my left hand, leaving me with a bloody stump, my fingers scattered across the room. I must have been in shock, as I didn't feel anything, I just stood there staring at the remains of my left hand. Suddenly, my sister lunged out of my brother's grip, and slammed into my father. knocking him to the ground. He had been taking better aim to finish me off. "Run Mort!" she screamed. That snapped me out of my daze, and I raced out of the door. I saw mother coming down the corridor towards me. I thought maybe she had been coming to stop father, but as I got near her she swung at me with a kitchen knife. I pushed past her, taking a cut on my cheek before I managed to get away. I raced straight for the door and out into the evening. Ch3 - Running Wild (Mort) I don't know how long I ran, for I just wanted to get as far away as possible. Eventually a combination of fatigue, and probably blood loss, brought me to a stop. I found a small wooded area in a small park, and hid in the bushes, and I must have passed out. I woke up in the dark, with a horrible pain in what remained of my left hand. I looked at the bloody stump in horror. I knew it needed at the very least, bandaging, if not surgery, but I could not get help in the village. Dr Benson might have helped me, but he was surely being watched now. I remembered I still had the gloves I had earlier used to hide my hands. I used one as a rudimentary bandage. The pain was unimaginable, I almost fainted, but managed to hold on as I pulled the bandage tight. I slipped the other glove on to hide my other hand. I checked my face, but the cut seemed to have sealed itself, as no more wet blood flowed when I tentatively touched it. I decided I had to get further away before they began searching for me in earnest. I pulled my blood splattered hood up and ran on. I kept going as long as I could, keeping hidden as much as possible. I have no idea what time it was when I had to stop again, but by this point, I had no idea where I was. I managed to find another bush to hide in behind a bench, and collapsed. I woke to the sound of voices, two teenage girls were sitting on the bench eating burgers. I suddenly realised how hungry I was. I couldn't let them discover me, so I kept as still as possible, fighting the pain surging through me from a combination of my ruined hand and my awkward position. They chattered away for a while about their boyfriends, and school. I felt more of the odd sensations. Though they faded in and out, the pain I was in made it hard to focus. The smell of their food was making my stomach growl, and I was sure they would hear it. Eventually they got up, threw their rubbish in a nearby bin, and moved off. When I was sure they had gone, I sneaked out of my hiding place. I hesitated a moment, then swallowing my pride, had a look to see if there were any leftovers. One of the girls must have been on a diet or something, as there was over half a burger left. I nabbed it and ate greedily, too hungry to care about the fact I was eating stuff from the rubbish. After finishing my meal I continued on my run. As I ran, I tried to think of a destination, but I couldn't think of anywhere to go. In the end, I decided to make for the nearest big town and try and find one of the post-MORFS centres. Maybe they would be able to help. It was a long shot, but I had no where else to go. I stopped for the night in an abandoned barn, hiding as best I could in some old boxes. Despite the cold, and uncomfortable floor, I passed out almost immediately. Nightmares of mobs with pitch forks led by my father wielding a shotgun, haunted me during the night. I awoke stiff and cold, my missing hand throbbing. I decided to check the wound. After a painful few minutes easing my make shift bandage off, I found my stump seemed to have completely healed over, with a layer of what looked like skin. This surprised me a bit, it couldn't have been more than 12 hours since it was raw bloody flesh. Surely it took longer than that to heal over. It didn't look infected as far as I could tell, so I refitted my bandage, and then was on my way. The next few days followed a similar pattern, days of dodging through shadows trying to remain unseen, grabbing food where and when I could find it, then sleeping wherever I thought I would be safe for the night. I was terrified that some one would see me and hurt me. Fear of capture and loathing at my grotesque twisted body gnawed at me, driving me into deep despair. I spent many nights crying myself to sleep, and when sleep did come, it was filled with nightmares of what might happen if I was found. My first close call came the next Saturday, when I was on the outskirts of a small town. I was trying to find somewhere to sleep for the night, and didn't notice the man approaching. The first I knew, was a voice behind me. "What yer doing out here at this time little girl?" a deep voice slurred drunkenly. I spun round, seeing a large man standing behind me, holding a bottle of something. On seeing me head on, his eyes went wide. I got a fleeting burst of the odd sensations again, a strange pulse, then a weird series waves of heat, different from the heat I had felt before. "Ur one of dem freaks!" he said. "Still you look pretty good, even if you are one of them animals. I think you'd be pretty good in the sack, wild like the animal you are, and I gets to be the one tames you." As he leered at me and started towards me, I ran. He was pretty fast, even for a drunk guy. I was managing to get out ahead, when I made a mistake, and ran down a dead end. I franticly searched for a way out but there was no exit, so I tried to hide in a small pile of rubbish. I managed to cover some of my body before I heard my pursuer rounding the corner. I froze, my head and upper body still exposed. I had to hope that he didn't spot me. I focused on keeping still and remaining unseen. "I know you're in here, girly," he shouted. "Make it easy on your self, give up. It won't be so bad, you'll enjoy it once ur broke in." He moved into the alleyway, slowly getting closer, I stopped breathing. He walked past me and up to the end of the alley. My heart was racing. After searching around for a bit he turned back, and began walking back out. I felt a surge of relief, until he suddenly turned and looked right at me. My heart felt like it was going to explode, I was frozen in terror. He took a step towards me then stopped, muttered something, then ran out of the alleyway. I couldn't believe it! How had he missed me? I waited a bit till I was sure he was gone, then took a few calming breaths, and my heart rate began slowing. I pondered how he had missed me, even given the relatively low light. Then I spotted a reflection of the wall where I was hiding, in a window opposite, I did a double take. I could see the wall, the rubbish, but there was no sign of me at all. I shifted to get a better look. Suddenly a section of the wall and pavement in the reflection shimmered, and rubbish moved seemingly on its own. The section was vaguely girl shaped. I looked down at myself. My body was not there. I moved my hand up to look at it and saw the same shimmery outline of an arm move up. It looked like whatever was behind it, I could only see it due to the movement, and even then it was like glass, or water. I moved closer to the window to get a better look, seeing a shimmery outline of a girl approach the reflection. She almost looked transparent. When I stopped moving, the shimmery effect vanished, and so did the girl. Slowly my mind pieced together what was going on. I was somehow making myself invisible. I had heard that monsters gained abilities after changing, but I had never considered I would. After a little experimentation, I realised that I was somehow generating a sort of illusion around me, that would adapt to my environment. If I moved too quickly, it couldn't keep up. So long as I moved slowly, it made me invisible. It seemed to cover even my clothes, and my make shift bandage, as if I was wrapped in one of those invisibility cloaks of old legend. I picked some small stones, and giggled at the flying stones. I could now see in the window the whole situation, with the chase and now the sudden discovery of these strange abilities had made me a bit hysterical. I found with concentration, I could make the invisibility field cover the stone, too. It looked odd, like the space around them stretched and swallowed them. The field seemed to be semi-solid. It clung to me, conforming to my shape, so that if I touched something, it remained on the outside, unless I willed the field to stretch around the object. If I threw an object like a stone from under it, the invisibility seemed to stretch, distorting the world behind it like a soap bubble, then snapping back to my skin, or the top of my clothing, when it stretched too far. I tried to cover a large brick I found with the field. As the invisibility stretched further over the object, I felt slightly faint, and suddenly, my invisibility switched off. I panicked a bit, now exposed in a dead end alley, so I quickly made my way out. I managed to find a small tool shed to hide in n the grounds of an abandoned warehouse. It could be locked from the inside, so it made me feel a lot safer. Before going to sleep, I tried turning my invisibility back on. After a while I figured out how to do it, and with some practice, could turn it off and on at will. It was odd to see it turn on, like a bubble of glass, that bent and distorting the light, exploding out from my skin and through my clothes. Then contracting in like rubber, the colours and patterns matching its environment making me invisible. I experimented further. I couldn't cover objects that were too far away from my body. The limit seemed to be 5 to 10 cm. I found I could even consciously alter the illusion. With a lot of concentration, I could make it change colour and pattern, but this seemed to wear me out quickly. The default invisible option was the easiest to maintain. I drifted off to sleep, happy to have this new tool to keep me hidden and safe. I woke to find myself still invisible, having switched it on before going to sleep. It seemed to have maintained itself while I slept. This pleased me, since it would allow me an extra element of protection when sleeping, if I could hide myself with my invisibility without conscious thought. I made my way back out, and continued on my journey. Over the next few days I made good progress, using my new found skill to stay hidden. I even once used it to steal some proper food, but it made me feel so guilty, I didn't do it again. I decided I might be a monster, but I was going to try to keep my lawlessness to the minimum, if I could help it. Still, my newly discovered ability gave me a degree of confidence, and I was more daring, covering more ground as a result. It also bought me a bit more peace. Though this new skill only served to underline my freakish nature, it kept some of the fear of discovery at bay. There were still the odd bouts of depression, but less than before. By Friday morning I was on the outskirts of Wilynsford a large town (no abbey so not a city but still sizeable). I was pretty sure it would have one of the post-MORFS centres, I just had to find it, and hope they could help me. Up until now. I had been moving through small towns and villages, so had not encountered many people. Now there were lots of people about, even in the early morning time. I pulled my dirty hood up, and tried my best to act inconspicuous. I seemed to have entered in a bad part of town. The buildings looked a bit run down, covered with graffiti, and many with boarded up windows. Groups of men hung around drinking, and the streets were dirty and filled with debris and rubbish. I hurried along towards what looked like a nicer, less dangerous part. In my haste and efforts to remain hidden, I didn't notice a large man coming towards me, not looking where he was going. I walked right into him, falling back. In the process my hood fell back. He looked down at me with a look of annoyance which quickly turned to rage, the sensation of heat flared at me. "Freak!" he shouted. I scrambled to my feet to try and get away, but soon the man and several others were chasing me. The burning sensation radiating from them. I knew if I could get out of sight, I could vanish, and escape. I raced ahead running for the nearest alleyway. As I rounded the corner, I readied myself to disappear, but I found another group of men blocking my path. Soon their faces showed anger, too. I tried to double back, but my pursuers caught up, trapping me. Soon the men circled me, I made a few attempts to get out, but was roughly shoved back into the middle. The strange burning painful feeling was radiating from every direction. "Please leave me alone," I pleaded. "Your kind ain't welcome round here. We're going to teach you a lesson. that animals should know their place," one of the men growled. I tried again to get away. This time I was grabbed, and punched straight in the face. They threw me between them, hitting me. Every time I tried to get away, I was grabbed and shoved back to another tormentor. Suddenly one of the men let out a startled yelp and went flying into a wall. Standing where he had been, was an enormously tall figure in a long coat and hat. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size," the figure said. From the voice, it was a young girl. I was tossed against the wall as the gang rounded on the newcomer. Soon there were more bodies flying through the air. Whoever this girl was, she was immensely strong. Soon the remains of the gang realised they were outclassed, and ran. As the girl walked towards me, I cringed backwards, afraid of her size and strength. She held up her hands in a comforting gesture. She knelt down near me and I could see her face. She was quite pretty, with vivid, almost glowing golden eyes, and striking violet hair. In spite of her size, she was very feminine looking under the big coat. She looked very trim and athletic, but not at all bulky, or overly muscular as her strength might have suggested. A look of concern creased her features. "Are you OK?" she said gently. I looked at her and felt a soft warmth coming from her. All of a sudden, I felt safe with her there. I made to stand up, but I felt very weak and passed out. Ch4 - A Chance Encounter (Dorothy) I was on my way back from picking up a book for my mum. I hated this part of town it had become something of a enclave for anti-MORFS elements, and it was not somewhere someone with obvious physical differences was made welcome. In better times, it had been a prosperous retail district, till larger shopping centres opened up on the other side of town, drawing trade away, and causing it to become run down and populated by more unsavoury types. But some of the old shops still remained, not able to afford places closer to the new shopping areas, and it was home to some of the best rare book shops in the county, so the trip was often worthwhile. My mum has an interest in rare books, so I often run such errands for her. She is a hybrid, and since my father died, has become somewhat reclusive. I was lucky to be almost normal looking, but only relatively speaking. I am 7ft tall, but generally human shaped, a little on the curvy Amazon side, if I do say so myself. Not as curvy as I might have liked, but still, at 15 there is some chance of further development, though then again, I might end up taller, which would make it even harder to find clothes in my size. My hair and eyes look odd, with a slightly outlandish colouration, though nothing that couldn't come from a bottle or a pair of contacts. My canine teeth are slightly elongated, not exactly fangs, but still I have to be careful not to smile too much, which isn't usually a problem in this part of town. So long as I cover up well, I am usually just ignored, other than people noticing my height. My physical presence usually discourages any further investigation. As I was making my way home, I heard a commotion in an alleyway, a lot of shouting, with the odd high pitched scream. I went to investigate, finding a group of 10 or 20 men attacking a young hybrid girl about my own age. I didn't know how she had ended up in this part of town. I would have thought anyone would know better than to come here. She was taking quite a beating and I decided I'd better step in before someone did any permanent damage. I grabbed the nearest guy, and flung him into a pile of rubbish. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size" I suggested. The group turned, then came at me. I easily dispatched them, as most of them were too drunk to put up much of a fight, and I could easily out manoeuvre them. Soon, the ones still standing decided they didn't like dealing with someone who fought back, and did a runner. I made my way over to the girl, who looked terrified. She backed away slightly, holding up a hand to ward off any attack. I did my best to put her at ease. She was in a bad way, covered in scrapes, and she was also filthy. Her clothes had mud, and what looked like dried blood, all over them. She looked like she had been sleeping rough for a while. She was quite pretty, even under all that muck, quite tall for a girl, but still a good foot shorter than me. She had a vaguely snake like look, with scales down the sides of her face and neck. The hand she held in front of her seemed similarly covered in scales, with black, talon- like nails. Intense dark eyes stared out at me from underneath a hood. Her eyes had very large pupils, and seemingly, no iris at all. She never seemed to blink and I saw the reason seemed to be some sort of membrane that periodically flashed over her eyes. Her light brown shoulder length hair was clogged with dirt and bits of debris. Under the shapeless rags she wore, she seemed to have a nice figure, though judging by her face, she was a little on the thin side. She had probably not been getting regular meals. I decided that cleaned up, with a few good meals in her and some decent clothes, she would probably be quite a looker, exotic, but very attractive. As gently as I could I asked, "Are you OK?" She seemed to relax a little, but as she tried to stand up, she collapsed. I caught her as she fell, and easily lifted the unconscious girl up into my arms, though she weighed more than I would have thought for someone her size. Having got her I wasn't initially sure what to do with her. I couldn't very well leave her there, especially unconscious, but what could I do with her. I decided to carry her home, at least for now. If she came round in the meantime, I could ask her where she wanted to be taken. I got some pretty funny looks carrying an unconscious girl through the bad part of town, but no one said anything, obviously not wanting to get involved. After a while, I got into some of the nicer neighbourhoods, and a few people tentatively asked if the girl was alright, to which I replied to the effect I was taking her to see a doctor. Which was mostly true, my mum was a doctor, but of the PHD variety. When I got home a while later, the girl was still passed out. As I was trying to carry her through the door without cracking her head on the jamb, my mum called out. "Hello, Dear, did you manage to get the books ... Who is that you're carrying?" as she walked into the hallway and saw my burden. "She was being attacked by a group of men when I was on the way back from the bookshop. I drove them off, but she passed out before I could find out if she was alright. It didn't seem right to leave her there. She took a nasty beating, and I think she was in a pretty bad way to start with. She's been sleeping rough by the looks of it." "Oh the poor dear. Take her up to the spare room, Dot. We'll look after her till she comes round." I carried the girl up to the spare room, and gently put her on the bed, then carefully slipped off her shoes and socks. I noticed scales like the ones on her face covered her feet from the ankle down, and her toe nails were like talons and completely black, They were also fearsomely sharp. I went back out to get her a blanket, and when I returned she was gone! I searched around. She couldn't have got past me, but there was no sign of her. I went back to the spare room in case she had hidden in there. Nothing. Then I caught movement on the bed out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned, I saw nothing. I looked really close, and just when I was sure I was imagining things, I saw a slight shimmer. I reached out gently and felt the girl, right where I had left her. She had some sort of camouflage ability. I carefully draped a blanket over her. it seemed to float over a girl shaped chunk of thin air. I quietly closed the door, and made my way down stairs. "How is she?" Mum asked. "Still out," I answered. "Gave me a bit of a shock though, she's got some sort of camouflage ability. I thought she'd run off while I was getting a blanket. I only spotted her when she moved" "Handy talent to be able to disappear," Mum said wistfully. "I could use a skill like that myself sometimes." Mum is not exactly inconspicuous, nearly as tall as me at 6 ft 6 and quite muscular, with light yellow fur. She is vaguely lion-like, with golden eyes, which I inherited, and sharp pronounced teeth. Apart from that, she looks like a normal woman. She is one of the gentlest people. Her fairly fearsome appearance masks the kind, shy person underneath. She got a lot of grief for her looks, and since she is not a confrontational type, she tries to avoid situations where she will stand out. When Dad was alive, she was a bit more outgoing. He had been the sort of person who wouldn't let anyone tell him where he could and couldn't go, or who he could be with. As a result, he would take mum and me out all the time, and taught me never to be cowed into letting other's prejudices dictate what I did. But he had been killed in a car crash when I was ten. Both Mum and me were hit hard by it. She had retreated into her internal world of books, and hidden away. I had become her interface with the world, running errands, and getting anything we needed. She rarely went out, and often, I was her only human contact for weeks at a time. Over time, she had come out of her shell a bit, though it was still hard for her. I gained a lot of my height from her, being 6ft or so, till a few months back when MORFS gave me a boost to 7ft. I had managed to avoid gaining any overly obvious hybrid features. My golden irises, violet hair, and somewhat fearsome looking teeth were all fairly easy to conceal, making me look like a normal, albeit tall, girl. The fact that I had gained a lot of strength during