The Creature -- Chapter Two free porn video

CHAPTER TWO The next day, changes had already begun - but only minor ones. I'd shrunk about six inches, and had gotten thinner, but I was still a boy. Mostly I was just enjoying the ability to walk! Though I was having a little trouble with my clothes, I got by using clothes-pins and rolling up the pant legs. The next day, I had shrunk even more. My hair was growing faster, and was coming in blond instead of black. I was feeling much more energetic than before. The prophet came to visit that day, together with a man I didn't recognize. He identified himself as a doctor who worked together with the prophet and his organization. After examining me quickly and looking at my birth certificate, he signed a death certificate for me! The prophet strongly suggested that my mother and brothers not tell anyone about what was happening to me, nobody at all. Instead, they were to tell everyone that I'd passed away. I moved into the attic of our house, because the next day my mother's brothers and their families came to 'pay respects', and I had to stay out of sight. Roger visited me secretly whenever he could. With the prophet's assistance, my mother and brothers staged a funeral for me, burying an empty casket. My uncles and their families, and all my friends, all thought I was really dead! On the fifth day I was almost unrecognizable, compared to how I looked before the transformation started. My genitals had began to reconfigure themselves. I realized that the prophet had told the truth, 100%. But not only my size and my genitals had changed. My face had undergone a drastic transformation, too. My hair had turned blond, my eyes had turned from brown to blue. My brothers and I all resembled my mother and her family. I had transformed, though, and now looked like someone from my father's family! If it hadn't happened slightly gradually, my family would never have believed this was me. And even so, they kept asking me all kinds of secret questions just to make sure. On the eighth day since the transformation began, Mom's relatives finally went back home. They all thought Mom and my brother's were in severe denial, as it didn't seem to them that they were mourning enough, and they wanted to get her help, which she declined. Finally, they left. I finally came down from the attic, and as I walked past a bathroom, I realized that since the ceremony, I hadn't had to use the toilet (and I never would). Despite the fact that I was still wearing my old, man's clothes (and drowning in them), there was no denying, by any sense of imagination, that I was now a girl - in body, at least. Mom measured my height and weight, and checked on the computer, and said that I was average height and weight for a nine-year-old! I said that couldn't be, and told them that if they ever had to give a fake age for my new body, they were to say that I was eleven, and just a little short. Mom said I didn't look eleven, and said that they could probably stretch it to ten, but no more. She said that I wasn't an unusual height for an eight-year-old either, but that she had been generous by saying 'nine'. I reminded them that they had to continue treating me like 'Ralph' no matter how I looked; even if I had the body of a young girl, I still was an adult man in my brain. I was having too much difficulty with my clothes. So, Mom had me measure my waist, and took a few more measurements herself, and, after I cautioned her about where she could shop and what kind of clothes she could buy for me, she went to Target and came back with a few bags of stuff for me. Some of it she'd bought in the boys department, and some in the girls, though, she said, whatever she'd bought in the girls department was stuff that would give a 'tomboy' type of look. There were no skirts or dresses, she promised. I put on a pair of boys' jeans with a stupid, childish soccer emblem on them, and a plain black girls' T-shirt since the boys ones all had stupid pictures or words that I didn't want to wear. The underwear she had bought me was girls', but I didn't really care about that since I wasn't going to let anyone see it on me anyway. It was a pleasure to finally be wearing clothes that fit me again, and to be able to actually move! * * * During the next month, my brothers were being pretty good about treating me like an adult, and I appreciated that it must have been quite difficult, given the way I looked. My long, blond hair came down to the tip of my butt. I'd cut it, but then it would grow back to that length within about four days. It never got longer than that, though. So I left it at that length, most of the time keeping it in a simple single ponytail at the base of my skull. Aside from my hair, my face was really really cute, and really really girly. It looked like I wore shiny, glossy lipstick, but that was the natural colour of my lips. My eyes were bright and blue. My lashes dark and long. My eyebrows thin and sculpted. I was much thinner than I'd ever been as a boy. And my body was moderately curvy. Even when I was wearing the boys' clothes, the curves of my butt and sides couldn't be masked. I had the body of a girl, no question about that. Thankfully, they kept calling my Ralph anyway, though I remarked, myself, that if I ever decided to go with them to an extended-family event, or, actually, if I ever encountered any other people, I'd have to pick a different name - both because anyone who knew them knew that they had a dead son named Ralph, and also because the boy name 'Ralph' really didn't match the way I looked now. I hadn't decided on a new name, though. I continued to wear the clothes that Mom had bought in the boys' department, mostly. Well, I wore T-shirts that she'd bought in the girls' department - but only plain ones without captions. I only wore long pants, even on warm days; I wouldn't wear shorts because I felt self-conscious about how girly my legs looked - slender, shapely, and completely hairless. (If you must know, I didn't have any hair on my genitals either, and obviously none in my armpits.) There was a pair of girls' jeans that I became fond of, though, because they fit better than the boys' jeans and were very comfortable, allowing me to move easily. They weren't skin-tight - I wouldn't have worn them if they were. But they fit me more exactly. And they were a tighter cut than boys' jeans were. Some days I was embarrassed, and wouldn't wear them, but on others I chose the comfort and practicality over those feelings, and wore them even when my brothers were around. I felt self-conscious, especially with how they fit at the crotch; I worried that perhaps they gave me too flat a crotch, and I liked to fool myself into thinking that perhaps they still thought that there was a chance that I still had a penis and testicles, even if the rest of my body looked so outwardly girly - it was a pride issue. They'd never asked about what my genitals looked like, and I'd never told them. The only other girls' garment that I occasionally wore was a pair of shiny black spandex shorts that I'd found in one of the bags Mom had brought home. At first when I saw it in the bag, I was angry with her for buying it. She apologized when I confronted her, and said she hadn't realized they were skin-tight, and promised to exchange them. But they stayed sitting in the bag. And one day, when I was home alone, I decided to try them on, just to see what they were like. I was amazed at how comfortable they were. They came down until just above my knees. Soon, I started wearing them a lot when I was home alone. They allowed me to explore my new gymnastics abilities better, and I liked that. I did a lot of exploring and discovering while home alone. And then one day I got 'caught' wearing them. I was alone, out in the backyard climbing on a tree, playing with squirrels and birds. If I had listened for him, I could have heard Roger come home, but I was enjoying myself so much and kind of lost track... I got shaken out of my oblivion when I heard our screen door open. I gasped, and froze, up in the tree. "Sorry to scare you," Roger said. "I would just ignore you and let you continue doing what you're doing - and you can do that, if that's what you want... but I thought you should know that Randy and one of his friends are on their way home. So, um, if you don't want them seeing you like that up in the tree, you might want to come down." I was so embarrassed. I asked him to go back inside and go to his room while I went to mine to change. Once he was out of sight, I jumped back to the ground. I pulled the T-shirt I was wearing down so that it would keep my crotch and butt covered, and sprinted to my bedroom - thankfully not encountering anyone on the way. Then I changed to my boys' jeans. In the evening, when we had a few moments alone, Roger confessed that he had watched me for a few minutes through the sliding door before coming outside. He said he was really amazed by my abilities, and seeing me having so much fun brought a feeling of warmth to his heart. And he wouldn't have interrupted me at all, except that he worried I'd be even more embarrassed if more people saw me like that. And he thought I probably didn't want Randy's friend knowing about my special climbing abilities. I thanked him for warning me. I told him that I'd wished he hadn't seen me like that, but was glad that he'd saved me from others seeing me like that as well. I started making an excuse, saying I didn't have any other shorts to wear and that when I'm alone I like to explore some of my new abilities. He said I shouldn't worry about how I looked, that to him there wasn't anything wrong with it. I looked normal, he said. The clothes I was wearing looked appropriate. "And anyway," he said. "It's not unheard of for boys and men to wear spandex shorts or spandex long pants when biking or running, or for other sports." A few days later, when just he and I were home alone, I decided to tell him about some of my 'animal' abilities, after making him promise not to tell. I showed him some of them, how I could jump real high, how I could climb the walls and ceilings, and told him that I could take showers in ice cold water without it bothering me. He wanted to see that, but I told him he'd have to take my word for it. * * * A month and a half had gone by, and I hadn't yet left my house, except for the back yard. I was feeling stir-crazy. And yet, I was nervous about encountering other people. So I talked to Roger about it, and he agreed to go somewhere with me 'just in case'. I realized, at that point, that since my 'transformation' he actually had been treating me much, much nicer than he ever had, at least before I got sick. And I liked it. We were getting along really well, we were close friends. It was a Sunday. Mom was working, and Randy had gone to a friend's house. The girl who was supposed to be coming over cancelled on Roger in the last minute. So he asked me if I wanted to go somewhere with him. Neither of us could think of a good place to go. We decided to go to the cultural centre, a complex which housed a library, a swimming pool, an art gallery and a dance school, and was very close to the mall which had the movie theatres. We thought we might look at the library a bit, see if there was any interesting exhibit at the gallery, and then maybe go to the mall for a bite to eat and perhaps a movie. I was still wearing my pyjamas - Star Trek style boys' pyjamas. So I went to change. A lot of my clothes were in the wash - my own fault, I'd told Mom that I would wash my own clothes. I put on the girls' jeans - they fit well, were comfortable, and it wouldn't be the first time Roger had seen me in them. But for a top, I was in trouble. All the 'normal' ones were in the wash. (Since I'd been playing in the back yard, climbing and jumping, most days, they got dirty rather quickly.) I was down to two T-shirts. One was from the boys' section, but had a large logo of a sports team that I and my brothers - and nearly everyone in our city - really despised. The other one was from the girls' section, and Mom truly had bought it by mistake - I really believed her about that. It was black, and when folded up in its plastic package it looked like a normal T-shirt, which was how she could make that mistake. But when opened and unfolded, it became problematic. First, it wasn't made of normal T-shirt material - it was smooth, shiny lycra. It had a big, boat-neck, and tiny, almost non- existant cap sleeves. It seemed that it was intended to be worn off one shoulder, because when I wore it, every time I pulled it up, within a minute or two it was down off a shoulder again. It had the word "CUTE" written in bright pink letters across the chest, with an exclamation mark below it, resembling an arrow, with the point positioned just above where the wearer's navel would be. And it was cut unevenly on the bottom, longer in the back and shorter in the front. I tried it on and looked in the mirror. If I stood completely still, with my arms down at my sides and slightly slouching, the bottom of the front of the shirt just touched the waistband of the jeans I was wearing. If I moved a little, a centimetre or two of my lower stomach would show. If I reached up as high as I could, my navel became visible. And it was even tighter than the girls' T-shirts I'd been wearing off and on. I put my pyjama top back on, and went to find Roger who was waiting for me, already with his shoes on. "There's a problem," I said. "I don't really have a clean shirt to wear. Just this," I said, showing him the boys' shirt. "Ewww! I can't believe Mom bought that for you!" he said with disgust. "You can't wear that!" "I know, I know," I said. "But the only other shirt that is clean, is one I haven't worn before, and for good reason. Look!" I held out the black one for him to see. He shrugged. "So it says 'CUTE'. Big deal. I mean, I get that it's not your first choice. But... is it so bad? People who see you are going to think you're cute anyway, no offence. I mean, honestly, you know your new body is cute. It's up to you, of course, but I think you should just tough it out and wear it." "It's not just that, though," I said. Hearing the way I was talking, I embarrassed myself - I sounded like a little kid, whining. Among the changes I'd gone through, my voice had also changed. "The neck is really really wide, it falls down one of my shoulders. And the front is cut short so that sometimes some of my stomach shows." "Ralph, you're just going to have to decide. I don't mind if you decide to stay home. I guess I'll go out by myself, then. If you do want to go, though, I don't think you should let this shirt stop you. I mean, aside from me, nobody who knows you will see you. From strangers' point-of-view, it's a normal kind of thing for girls your age to wear. I promise you that I won't think differently about you, or think less of you, if you wear it. It's just clothes. And, truthfully, I've already seen your new stomach a little bit - that day when you were climbing on the tree, when you hung upside down, some of your stomach showed. "But whatever you decide, please just make a decision so we can go already." I went to my room to consider my options some more. It was a beautiful day outside, bright sun in the sky. I couldn't stomach staying home alone one more day. So I put the girls' shirt back on, cringing at how I looked in the mirror. Shaking a bit, I went to find my brother, really nervous at what he'd say when he saw me. Would he laugh? He didn't laugh. He looked at me, and bit his lip. I felt embarrassment swelling up inside me. "What? You said you wouldn't look down on me, that it didn't matter!" I said, accusing him. "No, no, it's not that. You look fine. It doesn't bother me at all. It's just, oh, how do I say this... you... I think you need to wear a bra with that." I ran to my room and cried. I looked in the mirror and saw what he meant. I had beginning-to-form breasts - those, I knew, would stay like that forever. I didn't have anything that needed, or could be 'held up' by a bra. But the shapes of the 'beginning breasts' were pretty noticeable, especially when I wore a tight, thin shirt like that one. And I hadn't realized it, but I guess the stress or nervousness, or perhaps, dare I say, even a little excitement with wearing something 'forbidden', seemed to have caused me nipples to become erect, and show quite prominently through the shirt! I felt so embarrassed, and yet I wasn't made at him for pointing it out - if he'd let me go out like that and I'd realized it later, surely I would have felt even worse! I sat down on my bed, folded my arms across my chest, and cried. 'Was this worth it?' I wondered to myself. There was a light knock on my door, and then, when I didn't respond, he walked in. I hadn't closed my door all the way anyway. "I'm sorry if I said that wrong," he said. "I didn't mean to embarrass you, I just, well, wanted to save you further embarrassment." I didn't respond. "It's really not that big of a deal," he said. "It's hardly noticeable anyway. If you don't want to wear a bra, I don't think it makes a difference. Or maybe you have some sort of undershirt you could wear instead." I didn't respond. He put his hand on my back and rubbed a bit, trying to comfort me. "I can't begin to imagine what a big change this all is for you. I mean, it's a huge change for me, just witnessing it from the outside. I wish there was some way to make it easier on you." I remained silent, though I was beginning to calm down. "Maybe we should stay in today. I'll stay with you, we can find a movie to watch on TV. Or if you want, I can go out and rent something and bring it back for us." "Is... is this the first time you noticed that I needed a bra?" I asked, sheepishly, worried about the answer. "Do you want me to answer that honestly?" he asked. I nodded. "Well, actually, yes. It's the first time that the shapes of, you know, have been extremely visible - I guess it has to do with that shirt's material or something. I mean, I've noticed that you have the beginnings of breasts, but I don't think that would have looked much different with a bra on. But the truth is that Mom's said to me, more than once, that we need to tell you to wear a bra, that too much is visible without it. But I haven't noticed that myself - until today. And so I told Mom not to make a big deal out of it." There were a few moments of total silence. "Okay, so are we staying in?" he asked me. "No," I said, sighing. "I need to get out. Give me a few minutes, please, to figure something out." Once he'd left the room, I closed the door. I looked through the clothes Mom had bought me. I found a camisole tank-top, and tried it on under the shirt. In a way, it helped, actually covering more of my stomach than would otherwise have been covered just in the shirt. But it looked wrong, funny. The colours kind of clashed, and it just had the wrong look. So I took that off. Instead, I resigned myself to one of the black sports-bras that Mom had bought for me. It was made of T-shirt material, though a little thicker. At least it was the same colour as the shirt. Unfortunately, one, and sometimes even both of its wide straps showed through the wide neckline of the shirt, and I didn't like that. A visible strap like that was kind of 'normal' for a girl, but it seemed that the wide T-shirt-material straps clashed with the shiny smooth material of the shirt. I gave in, and changed again, this time into a 'real' training bra, for girls 'my age'. It was made of black shiny lycra, somewhat synched in the centre, and was held up by extremely thin shiny black straps. At least it was pull-on style, and didn't involve hooks in the back! Still, when I wore it, it was obvious that I was wearing a bra. But it did look 'normal' for a girl this age. And it solved the problem of the too-visible-nipples. Roger told me that the bra looked fine and normal and I shouldn't feel self-conscious about it. In the car on the way to the library, he told me that if I continued to feel uncomfortable I should let him know, because we'll be close to the mall and he had a little bit of spare money - we could go inside and look for a different shirt if I felt I needed one. It didn't take long for me to forget about wearing the bra - for the most part. We parked, and walked into the library. Unfortunately, the library didn't seem able to hold my interest as it used to. From there, we tried the art gallery, but the modern-art exhibit bored us both. A bunch of little girls around my size, wearing leotards and tutus were entering the dance school, and I looked away in disgust. Roger laughed. "Just because it's not for you, you don't have to knock it for others," he commented. I didn't respond. We walked over to the mall, thinking that we might try the new Star Wars movie. There was some sort of promotional festival in the parking lot of the mall, with all kinds of different contests. From what I could see and hear, it seemed that I could have easily won lots of those contests, as they involved water, or holding one's breath, speed, agility, things like that. But I didn't want to expose myself, and didn't really feel it was right to use 'super-natural' abilities to win contests against other normal people. Roger bought two tickets for the early showing of Star Wars. The person selling the tickets asked me how old I was. In my mind, I said '11' like I'd told Mom I was going to say, but for some reason, I couldn't say it. I hesitated. I noticed that the sign indicated that below the age of 12 was half price - whatever I said, I was sure to get that price. Since I was hesitating, Roger thought he should speak for me. Only just at that moment, I answered the question too. Roger said 'ten', while I totally surprised myself and said 'nine'! Why would I have said that? Immediately, Roger said, "Well, nine and three quarters... almost ten." Roger never asked me why I said 'nine'. I wouldn't have been able to answer him had he asked. "So, what should we do for the next half hour?" Roger said, tickets in hand. There was no point just standing in the lobby until the show started. "Um, oh, shit, maybe we can go to the food court... I forgot to eat a carrot this morning and... well, maybe there's a juice bar that serves carrot juice." I hadn't told Roger about my weakness in the dark - I was embarrassed to. And now I realized that this could be a problem in the movie theatre. I wasn't sure how dark it would get, or if the bright movie on the screen would help... but I didn't want to chance it. I'd noticed that the darkness thing was for real, though. Mom didn't keep an endless supply of carrots around, and I wasn't always able to get one. Since it was getting to be summer, it was getting dark later in the day. When it would start to get dark, if I hadn't had a carrot, I just made an excuse that I was getting tired, and went to my room. If I didn't keep all the lights on bright, or if they weren't bright enough, immediately when the sun set I'd fall asleep and stay sleeping until sunrise. And there was one time when I was in the bathroom, and shut the light off before opening the door to leave, and then discovered that I'd forgotten the toilet lid up - something Mom really hated. Since I could see in the dark, I turned back to shut the lid. Mom found me fast asleep on the bathroom floor. At least three hours had passed. Nobody knew where I was. They were all worried. I told her I was just tired, but she worried that there might be something wrong with me and wanted to call a doctor. I had to tell her that legally, I don't exist, and that no doctor would know anything about my condition... she kept a close watch on me for the next few days and didn't let up until she was convinced I was acting healthy. So now we were about to go into the theatre and I had no idea what would happen. And, as luck would have it, none of the food court stalls had any carrots in stalk. I decided I'd have no choice but to take my chances. I considered telling Roger the truth, but was too embarrassed. I told myself that even if I did fall asleep, I'd wake up as soon as the movie was over and the lights came back on. I hoped against all hope, though, that it wouldn't happen, as it was a movie that I really wanted to see. Well, as soon as the movie started playing, the lights dimmed, and pretty quickly I felt myself succumbing to sleep. It happened fast, and I knew I didn't have time to tell Roger, or to run out of the theatre or anything like that. It was a really strong force, much stronger than me. When I woke up, I was being held by Roger. He was holding me upright, with his arm under my bottom and my legs wrapped around him, and my head resting on his shoulder. I woke up as he carried me out of the theatre and into the lobby. It took me a few seconds to realize where I was and what I was doing, but as soon as I did, I struggled a bit in his grip and asked him to put me down. He told me that he got a real scare when the movie was over and I wouldn't wake up. I asked him a few questions. He said that the theatre lights only came back on really dimly, and he'd taken me out of the theatre before the credits finished rolling, as everyone else had left. He said that a couple of times during the movie he'd tried to wake me, shaking me and even tickling me, but I was out cold, nothing could wake me. I slept most of the time with my head resting on his arm, and some of the time with my head on his lap, he said. He found it very worrisome that I couldn't be woken at all, and recalled that time that Mom had discovered me in the bathroom, asleep. He worried that something was wrong, and suggested he make contact with the 'prophet'. So I told him that nothing was wrong, that this was to be expected, and asked if we could sit down for a few moments. On a bench in the crowded, busy mall, I told him the secret, and made him promise not to tell anyone about it. I told him about carrots being the antidote, and he said he'd try his best to make sure that carrots were always available from then on. He asked me if there was any way for him to wake me up once I'd already fallen asleep, and I told him that I wasn't aware of any way, except turning on the lights or moving me to a place with lights. I said i supposed that he could try force-feeding me a carrot while I was asleep, and I confided in him that I was actually able to swallow whole carrots without chewing them at all. But I wasn't really eager to purposely go into the dark and fall asleep so he could test that, despite his eagerness to do so. He told me that it had been a really good movie, despite the fact that my sleeping, and worrying about that, really distracted him. I was very disappointed that I'd missed it, but knew that it had been my own fault for not telling Roger about the carrot thing beforehand. "So what now?" he asked. "Should we just go home? Is there something else you want to do?" It was only four o'clock. "Why don't we go sit in the park across the street," I suggested. "Maybe I can introduce you to some friendly squirrels, or other animals." "Okay, but let's go into the grocery store first," he said, pointing at the Safeway. We went inside. And I should have predicted it. He bought a bag of carrots. "Just in case it starts to get dark while we're at the park," he said. "You don't want to miss out on more." He also bought a coke for himself, and a bottle of pure orange juice for me. He paid for the items and we walked across the street to the park. "Oh shit," he said, as we were crossing the street. "We should have bought a peeler - I don't think you can eat these like this." "I can," I admitted. "It doesn't bother me." He acted surprised but didn't say anything. We sat on a bench, looking at the grass and trees. There weren't many animals in the area, though I tried to contact some using my animal telepathy. "Here, have a carrot," he said, poking a hole in the bag and handing one to me. He watched me as, despite them being somewhat muddy, I chewed and ate the entire carrot, including the stem and the few leaves attached to that. "It doesn't bother me," I reiterated. A lone squirrel came by and looked at me. I communicated with her, and she came up close, right in front of me. I whispered to Roger not to talk, move, or otherwise scare the squirrel. Then I encouraged it to climb up my leg. It sat on my lap for a while. I gave it one of my fingers, and it sucked on it happily. Then, with my encouragement, if climbed up my arm and perched on my shoulder. It started sort-of nibbling and licking my shoulder and neck, very happily. I whispered to Roger, telling him that if he was slow and gentle, he could softly pat the squirrel on its back. He did so. After a little while longer, I picked the squirrel up in my hands. I held him in front of my face, silently communicating with it for a little while, and then gave it a quick little kiss on its nose before putting it down on the bench and watching it scurry away. Roger was really amazed. Squirrels are normally very afraid of people, he said, and stay far away. I told him that I am able to communicate with most animals via some sort of telepathy, and in that way I was able to set the squirrel's mind at ease. He asked if I'd do so with another animal. I looked around, and then got a crow to come land on my shoulder. It, too, enjoyed a little nibble of my finger, and then a bit of my earlobe, before flying away happily. We waited for a while for another animal to come, but there weren't others in the area. Then Roger said, "Would you show me how you swallow a carrot whole?" I thought for a moment. Something about that made me a little uneasy - it seemed that it might be a little too sexually suggestive. But in the end, I was in such a good mood enjoying finally being outside, that I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and show him. So I stood up and walked about a metre in front of him, and asked him to hand me a carrot. He picked the longest one in the bag, which also appeared to be the thickest. He handed it to me. I stood in front of him and said, "Prepare to be amazed!" We both laughed. Then I tipped my head far back, and opened my mouth. I lifted both my arms and held the carrot above my open mouth, realizing, as I did so, that my arm motion had caused a lot of my stomach, including my navel, to become visible to him. 'Oh well,' I thought to myself. 'Too late to prevent that!' And I decided to just continue. Slowly, I lowered the carrot into my mouth, directing it right into my throat, and pushing gently. Once it was a few centimetres in my throat, I didn't need to push it anymore, so I took my hands off it and crossed my wrists behind my back, keeping my shoulders arched back in such a way that my belly button remained visible. Without moving my lips or jaw at all, I used my throat muscles to slowly move the carrot further and further inside, until just the leaves were visible. Then, with a gulp, I sucked the rest inside, and swallowed. I stepped towards him and bent down a bit so that my face was level with his, and opened my mouth so he could look inside. "Amazing!" he said. "I can't believe that you can do that!" I shrugged. "I'm sure there are lots of things that I can do, that you can't believe, except that, I can do them!" "True," he said. "And the taste of the mud doesn't bother you. Are there other weird things that you can eat? Can you eat bugs, for instance?" "No, I can only eat vegetables, I mean, like, fruits and vegetables. No meat products, nothing alive like bugs. And I don't like anything cooked. I guess that's one of my animal-like qualities." "So you can eat branches and twigs? And wild mushrooms?" I nodded. "Wait here, then," he said. And he put his hands on my shoulders and gently but firmly directed me back onto the bench beside him. Once I was sitting, he got up. "I'm going to make you a salad," he said, taking the now empty shopping bag with him. I watched as he picked some blades of grass, clovers and dandelions, and put them into the bag. He went up to some of the trees and picked off some of the leaves, and a few of the smaller twigs, and put them in the bag. He put in a pine cone, a bit of bark, and some moss that had been growing on the side of the tree. And a wild mushroom that had been growing at the base of the tree. He brought the bag over and sat down beside me. "So you're saying you can eat all this?" he asked. "Yeah, I can," I said. "And you don't find it disgusting?" "No, not really. It doesn't really taste much different than carrots and cucumbers and stuff like that." "Do you mind? Can I see?" "Okay," I said. "Sure." He put a hand in the bag and took out a big leaf. I held out my hand to take it from him, but he just put the leaf directly in front of my mouth, pressing it against my lips. So I put my hands in my lap, and opened my mouth. He pushed the leaf inside. I chewed and swallowed. He fed me some grass, and I ate that too, and then a couple of twigs. I had to chew the pinecone, as it was very big, but I was able to eat it completely. And then I ate the mushroom and the moss - all from his fingers. "Wow, that's really something!" he said. And then I noticed that his fingers were a little green and sticky from all the stuff he'd been holding. "Here, let me help you with that," I said, and gently took his hand in mine. I put his fingers in my mouth and licked them perfectly clean. He noted that my tongue felt just a bit different than what a normal tongue felt like - a tiny bit rougher, he said. "But not unpleasant," he added. "Is this supposed to be a secret?" he then asked me. "Should I not mention it to Mom or Randy?" "Yes, please. Our secret." "Sure, no problem. I was just making sure." I looked around, disappointedly, for some more animals to come visit with us. For some reason there weren't any nearby. "Hey," he said. "There's one more thing I'd like you to do for me - if you don't mind showing off just a little more." "What's that?" I asked. "Here, come with me," he said, taking me by the hand and pulling me into a standing position. He continued holding my hand and led me towards the trees, and showed me where a hose hadn't been completely shut off, resulting in a large puddle of rather murky, muddy water on the ground. "Can you drink that?" he asked. "Or is that too disgusting?" "Um, well, I guess I could, but you really want to see me do that?" I asked him. "Yeah, well, if it's not too weird for you." I shrugged. "Okay. But obviously this, too, remains our secret." "Of course," he said. I dropped to my knees. "I'll hold your hair for you, so it doesn't get muddy," he said, crouching beside me and taking my long ponytail in his hands. I got down on my hands and knees and put my lips to the puddle, aware that, by doing so, my shirt had slid up a bit, revealing most of my lower back. It was a rather large puddle, but by sucking with my lips and using my slightly-longer-than-normal tongue to lap it up, I had the puddle emptied in less than a minute. I sat back up and looked at him. He was watching me, amazed, with a wide-open mouth. He motioned to me with his fingers, indicated that I had a bit of mud on my face around my lips and on my nose. I used my tongue and licked my face clean - my tongue was normal than most people's, and when I stretched I could reach the upper bridge of my nose with it. He marvelled at that, too. We got up to walk back to our bench, and then I heard an animal. It was a kitten. She was injured. I whispered for Roger to wait a minute, and then, on hands and knees, crawled under a bush and came back out, holding a small kitten. The kitten was very dirty, bleeding in a few places, and obviously quite ill. I told Roger that I had to heal it. Kneeling, sitting on my ankles, I held the kitten in my hands and began to lick it all over, cleaning it thoroughly. Once I'd gotten rid of most of the dirt I was able to see where its wounds were, and I licked those and caused them to heal. Infection had begun to set in, but I successfully cured most of that with my licking. The kitten was still very weak, though. I put my mouth to hers, and slipped my tongue into her mouth, hoping (for some reason) that Roger hadn't noticed that particular part. The kitten suckled from my tongue for a while, until I could tell, based on her taste, that she was better. Perhaps still a little weak from malnutrition, but healed. I put her down on the ground in front of me, and she nuzzled into me at my thigh. I patted her gently, and encouraged Roger to do so as well, and then said, "She's kind of hungry, she hasn't been eating... so, forget I did this." Then I leaned far back, arching my back, causing my shirt to lift up and much of my stomach to become visible. The little kitten used its claws to climb up my thigh and reach my exposed stomach, and began lapping at my belly with a lot of enthusiasm. Very carefully and meticulously, she covered my entire exposed belly with her tongue. Once she had completed my entire stomach, she'd had enough, and stopped licking. I straightened up, and pulled my shirt back down. And then I noticed a large cat coming out of the trees - the kitten's mother. I chastised her (silently of course) for abandoning her baby when she needed her, but the mother cat didn't understand me - that was their nature, of course. In fact, if I'd come back any later the mother cat probably would have mercy-killed the kitten. The kitten didn't mind, anyway. She was glad to have found her mother. The mother expressed her thanks for my help, and the two of them wandered back into the trees. I stood up and stretched, and said that I thought it was time we went home. Roger nodded his consent. I guessed that everything he'd witnessed was a little too much to take in at once. He tripped somewhat as we were leaving the park, but caught himself before he fell. I didn't think much of it at the time. But once we were in the car, I could smell blood. "I think you're bleeding," I said. He lifted his pant leg, which had a bit of a tear in it. He had a pretty bad gash on his leg. "Bring it up onto the seat," I said. "And I'll heal it for you." For some reason, he was reluctant to comply. "Don't worry, Roger, it won't hurt. You saw, it's one of my super powers." Slowly, shaking a bit, he raised his leg onto the car seat and lifted his pants once more. I leaned over and gently licked his wound for about 20 seconds until it healed. "Unfortunately I can't heal your pants," I said. He looked again at his leg and saw that it looked as if nothing had happened - not even a scar. "Wow!" he said. "It really works! I don't believe it!" Then, he added with a laugh, "And no tetanus shot!" "Actually, I could tell that there was a small chance that you could have developed tetanus from this. But I fixed that." "You mean you vaccinated me again?" "No, I just mean that you won't get tetanus from this injury. You should get a proper vaccination some time, for future use." "You mean you can't do that for me yourself?" I thought for a moment. "I don't know. Perhaps I could, but I can't think of how at the moment. I'm sure that if you actually had tetanus, I'd be able to cure you in some way or another. But a vaccine - that's different."