Let Changes Be — TRANSCRIPT

[Please refer to PDF file that comes attached with. ]

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LET CHANGES BE

Written by:— Val Monet Honesti

Commissioned by:— 'pvt1’

FOREWORD FROM THE AUTHOR

This document was published in Patreon, and is intended to be read by Patrons who have made pledges under it.

This document contains themes that are Sexual, Violent, and Graphic in nature. Sharing it publicly, privately, to and for whatever purposes, is highly discouraged, and altogether impermissible.

All Rights Reserved. As per many publications, no part of this document is to be reproduced, circulated, be made changes to, be lent, be sold for external profit, unless provided license by the Commissioner and Yours Truly.

I.

Sam had been holding in his hand a strange little curiosity. It was a tiny, square thing, wrapped in brown paper. It was in every way, nondescript, save for the alarming, and rather distressing note it came attached with. The note reads:

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KEEP ALL PRIVY HANDS OFF.—

KEEP ALL PRIVY HANDS OFF.—

KEEP ALL PRIVY HANDS OFF.—

Dear Sam,

We hope you are well. We have sent you other parcels that are prime for unwrapping. ignore this abhorrent thing, if you know what's best for you. 

The risk is hardly worth the trouble. 

Signed, 

Your Father and Your Mother.

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Sam's parents are explorers of great renown. They are international icons of the modern era. Practically every body of civilised society has heard of them, in some regard or another. All one needs is to subscribe their attention to the Television, or reading the Papers, to become informed of their continuous and wonderful achievements to humanity: by their discoveries of artifacts of old; of untouched and undiscovered lands; of cultures approaching the legendary and myth.

They are formidable in both prestige, and wealth of exceeding magnitudes; and under reasons of safety, comfort, convenience, and except for a handful of people, Sam's identity as their only child is kept a strict secret. 

Their venerable status offer very little benefit to Sam, or so he considers; he would have preferred they were ordinary, that they were unexceptional; fate, sadly, is not so easily determined by mortal whims.

These days, Sam is living a life of decadent affluence, growing only severer by the day. For many, it is a lifestyle of exceptional preference. The present he finds only grimness, with the approaching years, he finds, inspiring no better prospects; as so he considers: a constant vexation. For what is there to look forward to, when one has everything? He counts two more years until his High School graduation. It can not be avoided to think of Colleges; and the very moment he does think of it, he disqualifies every ideation that relate to it. For faith, nothing could be more abominable than attending Tertiary Education.

There in him, however, is an ambition to surpass his parents; but upon what manner or how, he does not know. He finds himself continually dispirited, and discouraged; his own mind returning to think again his parents’ most spectacular accomplishments — the contrast of which, he finds, utterly depressing. He makes it a vocation to spend and squander hours, weeks, and months, developing plans, and schemes, a sharp boy as he was, as to how to precede them; as is, the natural duty of any child; however, each time, unceasingly, failing from every attempt of reverie; each reverie a blow much heavier than the last. He would discover a temporary and crude antidote from this pain, and that is: to forcedly forget he ever had any parents... But the act of doing so depressed him only further. What a melancholy deed it is to forget one's parents! Especially so if one has not seen them in some duration.

For Sam, he has not seen his parents for ten long years…

… That morning Sam had hardly finished breakfast when he heard a loud pounding upon the main door. The familiar levity and rhythm of such blasted indiscretion, and so early the day, no less, could only portend the arrival of his one dear and only friend, Harvey. 

He hears the opening of the door, the closing of it, and fast, steady footsteps coming close and closer. Harvey emerges into the dining room. Now, quite a boy, this Harvey! — there so he stands, very imposing and high in height; a body that was prosaic, yet noble and so promisingly impressive, should athletic discipline be applied. He was every bit as dashing; and eyeing his handsome face grants one both a sublime, uplifting feeling and an attraction that exhibits little to do with sex. He would make for a very good celebrity behind a camera, should he aspire so, or much better, a sportsman of the Olympic grade, fitted for public life.

Tragically, he is not very bright. He has not said a profound statement in his life, and despite being eighteen years of age, his academics align very closely to those attending the elementary stages.

Worse, he is a beggar. Sam calls him so, but Harvey does not seem to mind, should it mean he gets to eat delectable delicacies, gain wonderful surprises, now and then, from his sometimes fair, and rather wealthy, friend.

"I have finished your Calculus papers." Sam then said to Harvey; "What an ill to-do chore. I see no reason why you can't do it. You are two years my Senior, and it makes poor sense that even the most primitive assignments seem impossible for you."

"Too hard," came Harvey’s answer; "ah, enough with your nagging. We can do that later. Do you have anything else to eat? Jogged my way here, see; awfully hungry."

"Jogged!" said Sam incredulously, "my dear Harvey, you live practically four cities away from me. I have heard of people missing their taxis by accident, but accidentally, I should guess, migrating on foot because there is no taxi to fetch, is a feat worthy of a fine, enduring joke. Now, don’t protest, I have reason to trust that you had done so, for you did the very exact stunt your last visit."

"Taxis? Now, let’s talk later," said Harvey, opening the refrigerator and scrounging for something to eat. He grabs a cake, then continues, "but if I can help it, I'd like not to talk about it. Not with you, if possible. Every time you say something, I can only understand half of it."

One weakness Sam has to live with is his great physical infirmity. There was nothing invalid about him, good heavens, bless him; but to put quite plainly, his body is an utter mediocrity. He had a meager stature; and an unexcellent constitution that aided little enhancement. He had a slender waist, effeminate, many have mentioned; hands without a callous scarred, and muscles waned, a result from an ever idle and easeful mode of living. He can not lift anything that exceeded twenty-five kilos above his own chest, making him quite unfit for many physical responsibilities; which is a bad thing, for many of these physical activities are matters of great importance. 

But what a fine brain he had! He was devilishly cheeky too, which has earned him the most notorious reputation of being considered an enemy by at least half his school’s faculty. He finds them appalling. He offends them. As far as he is concerned, he considers all lecturers past the 21st Century as the most inferior specimens. To make his point clear, he became top of his year, despite meeting the poorest attendance. This gesture is considered both baffling and contemptuous by the respectable Office of Education. They are currently seeking a method in having him expelled.

“Among many other things I have heard, there is news, apparently, that the PTA and the teachers of our wretched institution, are conspiring to abolish subjects they deem as extreme mathematics,” said Sam; “their notion is that it leaves too many young minds traumatised. I say, let them remain traumatised. We can never succeed as a civilisation if we allow paltry things as human feelings and savagery get the best of us.”

“Sam, what’s that on your hand?” asked Harvey, not wishing to hear complicated, controversial subject matters so early a day.

“Now, I haven’t a clue myself,” answered Sam. “Yet how intriguing it is. Notice the text… It is practically begging to be revealed. Alas! I am torn whether I should or should not.”

“You get so many nice things!" admitted Harvey. "Just now, on my way here in the dining room, I caught sight of a pile of boxes near the door. A whole bunch of them! Hard to miss, a heap as big as that one. Rats, every month must be like Christmas to you! Your parents are spoiling you, man."

"Spoil me!" exclaimed Sam. "Such trifle trinkets will never affect my superior character. With that said, I'm thinking of leaving everything you just saw, Harvey, into your possession."

"Come again?"

"I have produced no erratum in my words. Yes, Harvey, I am quite serious. You'll do me a great service dispensing them from my hands. I find them all repulsing. They are a material reminder of my being a neglected child." 

“But all of it mine!” said Harvey, still under the strain of misbelief; “why, surely you’d like to leave some for yourself?”

 "An unnatural suggestion that I'm inclined to decline. I have no feelings of attachment to it. Don't give me that look, now. Except for this queer little item I'm holding, I'm to inherit all that wretched scrap to you, in full willingness. Ah! That reminds me, your Calculus papers — here. How fast times go! In two months time, you will be graduating High School. I dread to imagine what's to happen to you in University, for I won't be anywhere close-by to help you any more."

"A chap will do what he hasn't," answered Harvey; "and thanks if you really do mean what you just said. I hope there's a game console inside one of them. You had one not three months ago, and how surprised I was when I found out you donated it to an orphanage — you could've donated it to me. Rats! Say, have you heard about Sony releasing a new model? I don't go much myself, but it's all the rage in the internet..."

 Sam expressed no singular sign of interest. His eyes were transfixed to the ever mysterious novelty in his hand. What in the devil could there be inside? He must know — now.

"Quite right! I can no longer resist," declared Sam, finally. And so he parted away the crumpled shell, the wrapping no more thicker than any average bond paper. Within it was an item of the most peculiar design; very small in size, not exceeding beyond Sam's palm. He has never seen anything like it. It had a design that was beyond euclidean; so unique it was in architecture, that Sam found no words to describe it sufficiently. Thin etchings of unknown tongue ran cross and crisscross upon its shimmering, silver surface; bearing it no further hint, only additional mystique.

“It has spikes!” observed Harvey. "It looks dangerous, Sam. It doesn't look like something you should play with. I think we better do what your parents think of this one."

 "I admit it looks outlandish, but I sense no harm in doing a little further investigation. For I declare, look at it! — Does it not fascinate you?"

"Fascinate me? — Gives me the willies, more like."

“Harvey, you don’t seem to understand. To put plainly: this is an artifact, my dear friend of all the world. It is the very first time they sent one my way, and my inspiration is afire! I wonder what function it served; for see how curious it looks; how alien it is, by design! God bless primeval-people! They think very differently from us modernists, that often times, when we do take upon ourselves to scrutinise and study and wonder what these objects they have left behind, it places us often to the refuge of guesswork, don’t you know? — the most exciting endeavour, yet. Ah! I’ve become terribly anxious. Forgive me.”

“I’m not so sure about this, Sam,” said Harvey, stepping back cautiously. “Can’t you not feel it? The wrong buzz in the air?”

"Merely a production of your overactive imagination," answered Sam. “We can discuss your ailings later, Harvey. Now, I wonder what these inscriptions mea—"

Suddenly, there came a resounding BANG, as the object of interest detonated into a most vicious explosion. A blinding white light seared their eyes; forcing their eyelids to shut down, and recover health. A piercing, ringing sound invaded their ears. Deaf and blind, they try their best to recollect their wits, but the most they did that first few seconds, was produce only incoherent and indistinguishable oaths.

"Heavens!" cried Sam; "it bloody stings!"

"I'm calling help!" cried Harvey with urgency; but when he opened his eyes, and saw the abnormal thing he saw, he voiced out a panicking and terrified remark: — "Sam, your... your hand!"

“I can still feel all fingers. I don’t believe it is anything severe —”

“Blast it, Sam! If you can open them, put your eyes to your hand!"

Sam did. He slowly opened his eyelids and steered their gaze towards the hand; the very hand where the rotten thing had blown up. Not a sign of even a slightest scratch had laid upon it. It was just as pale, as bony, as virginally pristine as it always had… or had it been this abnormally pristine? No... upon closer inspection, though minutely, the texture seemed to have changed. With his other hand, he strokes it. He realises the difference instantly. The hand in question had turned soft and tender like those of a lady's; it was not pale, nay! it had become fair, dainty, and soft like flowing silk.

Sam was mortified. Within himself came the strange sensation akin to nausea. He staggers, and falls, but then stands again. The lukewarm, sickly feeling began in his belly, and was slowly spreading throughout his body. It was an unwelcome, affecting syndrome; his entire regions — bodily, mental, and emotional — were in utter mayhem.

It was then he heard the sound, like that, of ripping paper. He looks down, in watery eyes, and saw in amazement, that he was growing. The very floor seemed to move and creep away, as his legs grew in height; arms, the likewise limbs, extending in length as well. He observed soft, ample masses of muscles, fat, and rich flesh swelling and filling his body, but did so it did proportionally inexcessive. Sam's clothes stretched, as his body continues to expand; and when it could stretch no more, it tore. The front of his shirt then opened, and out bursting from within came full, glorious breasts. Pink knees emerged from his jeans' knee caps; and smoldering, scarlet skin peeked out from fine, thin lines from areas of parted fabric; many ruptured cuts, of which, that laid there and here. Gone are Sam's brown hair, for the colour had lightened and shone to a colour of gold, and down it tumbled and grew long and longer until it buried his face.

What a sight it was for Harvey! He watched the entire thing with mouth agape. Now there was a spectacle of a lifetime, if one must see! Nothing matched it in both strangeness and horror, from so much he had seen from his past. This will forever be ingrained in his mind — unforgettable and ever spectacular. He will not perceive the likes of this 

again; and should something similar arrive, it shall never, he trusts, reach the same scale and intensity, he just saw then.

Not one aspect of his new appearance hinted or suggested that Sam was ever some one else before. For here now he stands in an entirely different identity: a girl of a most handsome, physical apparition. This same girl parts away the royal, yellow mane that covers her face, and did so she did with graceful quietude and sereneness. Behind that curtain of gold were splendid eyes as blue as rich sapphire, and lithe, little lips of a gentle, roseate colour. Harvey has seen before, and recognised, the splendour and craft of good, carved ivory; and so when his eyes fell to her beautiful, bare neck, he became immediately reminded of it. She must stand perhaps five feet seven or eight, thought Harvey; on the most fine, tall legs, no less, like those of Grecian sculptures.

And so deep in introspection Harvey had been, that no thought of his dwelt upon the account, of how discomforting it was, as a predicament, in wearing tattered clothes — which his friend has become a sore, unfortunate victim of. Ruined was her shirt; the culprit: those voluminous breasts of hers that hanged bare, large, and robustly plump. Her jeans were in no better condition to speak of; so tight they have become, that each small movement caused a squeak, followed right after, a gash or two of seams shredding, with harsh, red flesh, like tongues protruding, struggling and pushing to see, touch, and feel the delicious freedom and air beyond the confines of denim.

Harvey was both ignorant and clueless in knowing how to handle the situation. He harbours no original ideation and initiation of his own, all the time, should crises this grave happen and erupt. He had Sam always to do that for him, but how this changes everything! Blast it all, Sam, he then thought; am I looking at you, or looking at somebody who might happen to be — someone else completely different? Say something!

And so, the girl spoke: "Harvey, stop that insolent gawking and help me! Do something, anything! Rats, oh rats! I... I feel so cold..."

"Oh…" said the startled Harvey; "of course, of course!" he muttered, as he pulls up his shirt, a very large size, and hands it to her. Sam discarded her upper rags, and wore Harvey's to replace. 

What an undignifying thing, thought Sam; it smelt strongly of male sweat, and from sense and feeling, he could determine the material was derived from something cheaply and commonplace; thus making it automatically dislikable. But it will suffice for now, thought she. A hundred things were processing in Sam's mind, and she understood, that choices will be limited, and shall remain limited, until the issue of anatomy is resolved. What a conundrum: he has become a she. 

“That is still you, in there, right, Sam?” asked Harvey, warily.

“Of course, it is I!” snapped Sam, inflection every bit womanly, but unchangingly and familiarly stern; "this is dreadful. What am I to do? I would've preferred to have metamorphosised into something else, but becoming a slag? Why, it is a cruel jest, and downright blasphemous,” so she says, as she pats her groin, and finding nothing. "Those blasted parents of mine. How bleeding good they've done me this time! I curse them. I curse them to their graves!" 

Sam looks at Harvey, completely riveted. She can not peel her gaze away from him, and it was unrelated to the sudden, weird affliction came over her and affected her lower members; her thighs and knees, to be exact, felt like water. She closes both her eyes. She lets a hand rest over her brow. 

What, indeed, was this strange feeling she was having? 

She lets her vision free once more, and glided them towards Harvey’s nude torso. It was every bit chiseled and gallant and beautiful. How great he looked! Had he always looked this mesmerising? this enticing? For see those abs, and how nicely they lined uniform and regally upon his shapely stomach. She wonders and ponders how tough and limber they were. She desires to know, to touch; if only she could fabricate a convincing pretext in order to do so…   

I WISH YOU ALL BEGONE! thought she to herself, outraged; I will allow no terrible temptations to invade this mind of mine. But, oh, faith declare, behold those glorious muscular biceps, triceps, and chest of his that begged to be held; upon the fine, blonde hair that laid and ran all over them, that pled to be touched, to be admired, and to be stroked. Sam, who earlier resented the reeking musk of Harvey's perspiration, now found it engrossing. It was now like perfume to her; its attar slowly intoxicating her, fading away her dwindling common senses. So powerful, so arousing, and so incomprehensible was this phase, that she considered no other or better alternative to fight against it, but to bite her underlip; a dearly, futile means to forcedly retain her flimsy sanity — through flimsy hurt! HA! said she to herself: these feelings will mean the end of you; for if it is what you suspect is is; better kill it while the desire is just beginning to bloom.

Not certain what to do, with Sam acting all erratic all of a sudden, Harvey offers his hand. The moment Sam took it, her foundations waned, and down she tipped and keeled into Harvey's body. What mighty strength he has with him! Not a budge or stir inspired and willed his form to move from her clumsy fall.

But, had it been so bad, so hurtful, wondered a part of Harvey, that it was good enough of an excuse to press her cheek to his chest, her arms thrown over his shoulders, her groin sensually plastered against his? Harvey did not feel it correct. He pushes Sam away, but did so he did gently, for he now considers her a girl — she was now one, without a doubt, undisputedly! Why deny it? — Now entirely aware how light and easeful she had weighed; how soft and delicate her frame had been when he held them under his embrace; how alluring and wonderful she smelled, when her odour tickled all individual hairs in his nose — all of it points out she was now unmistakably female.

The realisation frightened Harvey. He wanted to flee. But he can not just abandon his friend; not now when she needed company more than ever. Yet what kind of company exactly? This is what Harvey feared, and he prayed dearly it was not those of great thirst.

"My head is aboil," groaned Sam, feverishly, "my insides yearns; my flesh desires another's. I am so aroused. I know I am, Harvey, and I don't know what to do to take it away..."

"What you need to do is to try and stay calm," said Harvey; "this is not you who's talking. That’s right. You are not yourself, at the moment.”

"Oh, blast it all, Harvey!" answered Sam; "hear me: how much would it cost to have me kiss you?"

"Anything but that, man!"

"I am willing to relinquish 1,000 Pounds from my pocket money this very instant. I can afford that sum. Quite right; I'll write you a cheque immediately, if you so wish it, and all I ask is a kiss! Let me, Harvey, oh let me! I feel so hot. I sense this ill craving of mine, should left unheeded, will turn me mad, mad, mad…”

So then she approaches Harvey. He backs a foot, then another, until he was stopped by the wall and in between two, large, fragile, china ornaments. She laughs. Now very close, she stands on tiptoe, wafting the scent of his lips. She reaches her mouth into his; his slight moustache grazing her soft skin. They kissed for a long time, and whilst they were doing so, she pushes her hand to his crotch, to find in astonishment, how unbecomingly large it swelled. The earlier close contact produced no such impression. Harvey fought against that hand; pushing it away, throwing it some few times off his male appendage; but even he eventually gave in, as his rising desire acquitted he to yield and submit.

He can no longer lie to himself, not any more: his friend had turned into a most attractive creature — a pure, carnal representative by which embodies the power and might of the opposite sex. It is a sin to defy it. What he wanted more in the world, then, was to say no words, but provide and express merely silent intimate love to this divine woman; how he wanted to bite her bits; nurse from her warm mammaries; and view and feel the rest of her flesh that still hides within that raiment of clinging tightness.

But he could not bring himself to act upon such violent mistreatment, for Harvey had a kindly, moral disposition, despite how his own appearance conflicts it. He acknowledges, by so doing, will produce only shame, pain, and indignity to both. 

Sam, with motives of her own, drew open Harvey's buttons, pulling out his fat, limber staff. She looks at it, fascinated and horrified, to find it surpassing the circumference of her wrist — and although she has indeed grown, it bore no fair match still.

"Of what few integrity we have, let's not throw it away, Sam!"

"I've had my kiss; now, I want that thing of yours inside my mouth."

"Think this through, man!"

"I am assailed to a most carnivorous mood. Nothing else can remedy it but you alone, Harvey — you, and your obscene pecker!"

"Blast it, Sam!" cried Harvey, "we are better than this!"

"I care no more!” declared she; “Dignity! Respect! Perseverance! I renounce them all! Let me be. I'm to consume that gargantuan member of yours, and there is nothing you may so say to prevent me!"

She kneels down, hugs his knees, then swallows his penis whole and raw. Harvey groans, and Harvey soon came. 

    The taste of his seed had such a piercing, bitter, and lasting flavour that it enlivened Sam’s senses back. "Ahg!" cried she, spitting the viscid volume off her mouth. No more of this, though she; I will travel to the other dominions of pleasure, but certainly no more penis sucking. 

"Oh, for shame!" said Harvey, as if in half sob and half scream; "I'm ashamed of myself; to you, to our families!"

"Yes, yes..." sighed Sam. "Rats. My jeans are wet with pee. Odd thing it is. I did not think pee would feel sticky."

II

May --, 20--

My dear Sam:

This is your father writing to you. I'm afraid you shall deal with me, and only me, for the time being. I'm rather untrained in the art of writing letters, leaving such careful responsibilities to your mother. She is at present, very busy documenting a most interesting paper. This paper has every bit to do with your peculiar case, and shall your patience bear, I will have its contents described in the later portion of this entry. And my, what news you’ve brought us!

We read your note not too long ago. Naples is wonderful as ever. The Mediterranean climate breeds nothing but clear, excellent thoughts. Great artists were born here; and borne from the hands of such artists came poems, paintings, music, culture, war — history… civilisation! Few countries reach Italy in grandiosity; for Italy, is home to once great Rome — my eternal reverence.

I understand finding us must have been a great and difficult undertaking. Cellphones and other contemporary technics, you must realise, never run compatible for your Mother and I. We find them better left to the Unintellectuals, and Optimists of the mental regression. They have become so ghastly advanced, in such a brief period, that people rely upon them more than to themselves. If not used for communication, it becomes a tool of and for distraction; a charmer of ignorance; and a promoter of slothful deeds. Letters will for ever last as the more romantic medium, never mind how medieval it is.

Now, had your letter arrived a little later, you would have missed us entirely. I must mention we were expected in India. We were to rendezvous with a fellow explorer about some new discoveries they have unearthed from their excavations in Western side of the country. All very electrifying, dear Hannibal, should you see what there is in store for you and the Madam! indeed, you might die from excitement from what I am to evince to you! the man had relayed, through mail. 

His enthusiasm was the pure, genuine article, but by Jove, I thank the heavens we are spared. Now, had I informed you about this one occasion, long past, when my cranium was almost crushed to brittles, by a sojourning Elephant in Mumbai? It was an unsettling and traumatising experience. I adore the mystics of wonderful India, but I find their elephants uncharming and beastly dangerous.

 But enough of India. Let us bring ourselves to discuss this crisis of yours, and what must we to do with it: 

You have turned yourself female. 

Before we proclaim anything worthy of ceremony, know this, in our humble confession; when we found how your predicament turned up: we thought it immensely amusing. We were ticklishly and criminally aware of its effects, but still, we sent it your way for the purposes of sheer entertainment. I've lost my bet, to your mother that is, in believing you would never open Pandora's box. But what is a mere 1,000,000 Pounds, however?

If you must know about the resource that had you changed, we came across its whereabouts when we descried this shrewd, little island in the South Seas. We found it to be a fascinating place — it was an island, you see, comprised of entirely female residents! You must imagine the outcome, of course, a society as degrading as that would only lead to extinction. 

What we know of them are from these drawings we found in the caves; very numerous, they were. From these renderings, one finds neither refinement nor logic. There is only brutality and dread, as these drawings have with them, a popular theme of one brutishly, described woman fighting another one of the similar breed. Many of them depict eating each other. We did not at first understand the trend; and it was only from inspecting the injuries from some cosy skeletons, we later realised, that they were cannibals. 

As fascinating as it is, the existence of the strange idolatries, the very exact item you beheld and held, found scattered all over the island, precedes it. Among the paintings lay hints; as in one of the coves, of some holy arrangement, entails they descended as rain from the sky; coming down from clouds shaped like ominous flat disk of numbers so many, and sizes so great. We paid not much mind to it at first; as our attentions were focused to other, and more interesting avenues. 

It was only when one of the things got of one the party members, Roland, that we discovered its precedence! You must realise he is no longer named Roland, presently. No concern to him; but his wife was in terrible, tortured state when she found out, the poor thing. She insisted having children, you see. I wanted to tell her there is always the orphanage to consider, but I fear the suggestion might will her to drown herself. It has been attempted twice, and a complete failure twice over, as she had been an champion in freestyle swimming in her youth.

We had since placed ourselves to hypothesise that a divine, unexplainable intervention passed, happened, and did evil to this isolated, patch of land of female ferals: It seems to only trigger an effect whenever male contact is attempted. Your mother, and her fiendish secretary are exempted to its effects; animals too would seem to share the immunity; and it would appear to only affect the male Homo Sapien.

We are busily articulating a journal regarding our findings; leaving India postponed indefinitely. 

This is going to change the world.

We have yet to discover a method to reverse its effects. We doubt there even is a method. The news must strike you as deeply regrettable. It is healthy to expect that the changes that has happened to you, will remain with you eternally. I trust this is not the portion that upsets you, rather the fact that you may remain stuck permanently looking like your cruel mother. The resemblance is unsettling; oh yes, we’ve seen the Polaroids. I wish you would smile some more. You were never the gleeful, jolly type, but it would be a festive idea if you should readjust. Until then, I advise against ever visiting Naples. You might terrorise the locals, and cause heart attacks to the elderly.

There is much consulting left to do for you, Sam; now have you ever thought about abandoning this lifestyle of reclusionism, for once? As your parents, we are concerned this has caused something chronic inside your heart. This vocation is pleasing only to impotent aunts. Misanthropy should remain exclusive to the truly graceful and brilliant, and you will never achieve that grade if you never leave your apartment.  

If you must write to us, forward it to our villa in Norway. We shall be staying solemn Norway for some weeks, but no more than a month. Your mother’s relatives are a tedious pack, and are probably Scandinavia’s most abhorrent crowd of people.

Yours sincerely,

Hank Abarthy 

PS… I also advise against visiting Norway. These poor people had it bad enough, and I fear adding one more member of the family blood might beset this country to an unforeseeable calamity. I have a knack for auguries, and it would do you good to take me seriously. This affliction began ever since that incident with the Elephant. God help us all.

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Harvey entered the bedroom with a bouquet of radiant flowers in his hand. He brought with him an assortment of corsages, that you cannot tell which kind is which. He thought it to make a wonderful gift for Sam, but it would seem he dropped in what was considered a bad and wrong time, as it would appear Sam was caught in some outrageous, terrible fit. She was tearing a piece of paper to very fine shreds, and she did it so emotionally. When there was little left of the sheet, she looks at Harvey’s. Harvey in turn looks into her eyes, and he noticed that they were moist. He was curious, and thought of asking what was the matter, but thought better of it; doing so might produce effects he might later regret. He manages a smile, walks towards her, a confident and clean stride, and offers her the nosegay.

She takes them. Wafting them appeared to have a therapeutic effect. She breathes in a sigh, then lets herself fall down the soft bed, her back first. She was wearing a scarlet negligee that day, and nothing underneath. There, should fervent retinas look, could one view the contours of her fine body, good as revealed, despite concealed. 

Blessed as ever was her form; as if marbled with the picture of perfection in mind. She was every bit like a listless mannequin; pleasing to the wandering eye; her skin as white and as pure as snow; her beauty like winter ice, and just as cold and inapproachable, but of which nature designed as clear and immaculate.

Harvey watches her in silent awe. He quietly inspects all corners of her glorious shape; her lithe arms, her great breasts, her delicious legs, and her tender feet that reminds him the soft details of marsh mallows or cotton pillows. Then his eyes saw the line found upon the silk fabric that laid between her luscious thighs; the line of a palpable and obvious impression that hinted the cleft of her sex; he ogles it all, not a word or noise escaping, but only one sound, hearty gulp. 

“Among many other things I have heard,” began Sam, “I was told you had succeeded in graduating. Harvey, I congratulate you.”

“Have you been crying, Sam?” asked Harvey, concernedly. “Now, let down that hand over your eyes so I can see you better. Go on.”

“I have also been told you have been accepted to a Scholarship Program. I… I congratulate you again.” came her answer, as if whimpering.

The sound of her despair came like needles prickling through skin, through the very tissue of his heart. He felt somewhat responsible; and in every regard felt bad and guilty by it. “We can talk about that later,” he tries to console; “come on, get up. Tell me how you’ve been; it has been so long, hasn’t it? So much has happened, and I was unable to find a time to visit. You must have been lonely..”

It was only then that Sam suddenly sits up, erect, and blew out a mighty sneeze. She takes the bouquet from earlier, gave it a brief look, did a slight grimace, then flung the thing away to a nearby corner. “RATS,” bellowed she, “There is some carnations in there! I hate the devilish things. They have the most irritating pollen possible, and I’ve whiffed a great deal of them. Had I not told you I am allergic to them? Bah, it’s too late. My sinus is acting up.”

“Oh…” came Harvey’s only response, feeling a little hot saying it too. Poor Harvey could not for the life of him differentiate a lone dandelion from a bunch of magnolia. He considers flowers as interchangeable as items from the Table of Elements. He understands to some vagueness, that there are persons in the world that might find them important, but of which, to him, their significance will never reach. “I did not mean to do this to you, Sam. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Never you mind. I forgive you. Now, please hand me those tissue papers to your left. Thank you.” She sneezes again, and continues: “My dear friend of all the world! It has indeed been weeks since you last visited. The house feels so barren and sepulchral without you. Oh, how I missed you, dear Harvey!”

“You should’ve never left school.”

“Considering my case, I believe I committed the right decision. And I suspect I am doing them a great service. Not a council appeared, or hailed, to contest me from exiting. It’s as thought they positively favoured my leave, and wanted it succeed unmolested.”

She falls down back to the bed. Mindlessly, she turns sideways, left and right. Finding it to insatiate her anxious sensations, she looks up at stalwart Harvey, saying so then, "I'm having the dreams again, Harvey. All very weird and insidious they are. The suggestions they speak have filled the chambers in my mind these recent days. They are of a strangely, erotic quality; vocal but vague, loud yet soundless. I don’t know what to do with it…" And indeed, Harvey had not the faintest idea what to do either. Harvey sits down next to her. He leans down, reaches for her neck, and strokes it affectionately.

Two months has since passed. Spared not from changes were her other departments; for the improvements also branched in emotion, in mind, in tastes — Sam now craves for flowers, for pleated skirts, for satin dresses, for powder and puff, for vain pleasures as attention and admiration. She still longs to revert again to her life past, but asking so would entail deserting many, feminine pleasures; many among them the greatest she has ever experienced; and many unattainable and an impossibility in her previous identity.

Harvey digs a hand down her wear, holding firm in his hand one of Sam’s ample breast. She moans. "Tear all of my robe," said she, "like you always do with your powerful hands..." And so Harvey clutches the edge of her collar. He parts them away; the damage threads and continues down and lower and until a great deal of her front was now open and bare.

Harvey began on her neck, then down he gnawed her bare breasts; licked her navel; kissed her sex. Sam's mind was melting. Return to his male form and leave this? How utterly preposterous of an idea! The voices in her sleep had rung true: that in that life past, it bore not a living's worth. 

"I've thought upon a decision, Harvey!" proclaimed Sam, in-between moans; "a very capital one!"

"Can it wait?"

"Absolutely. But first I need that pecker of yours inside me." 

Harvey stopped dead at this. "Now, you're saying crazed things!" said he, laughing a little. 

"What I'm about to tell you is just as absurd. Say, I want you to be on top of me. Yes. That position is nice..." 

"So now I can put my weenie in your ninny?" came his answer, "and you keep saying before how you disliked it; telling me the whole thing is profane. Pleasantly fine with fingers, sure, peckers are absolutely off limits."

"And that changes now," said she, as she tugs Harvey's firm penis, and sinks it deep, into her narrow canals.

How she screamed. 

Her own fingers never gave this sensation; of colours exploding in her brain; raw, fast lightning coursing and vibrating in her blood. It felt like something in her mind had snapped. Her words no longer formed coherency, only moans now and pants escaped her exasperating lips. And the more Harvey hammered on, the more vivid the colours seemed, the current in her veins flowing more. 

She has orgasmed twice in that time; very much convinced she was, and Harvey hasn’t yet come! What capacity for euphoria women owned! She never realised it until now. Return to his male form, indeed, and leave this all! How utterly preposterous of an idea! 

"Rats. I'm about to shoot it, Sam. I'm pulling ou—" 

Sam didn't allow it be so. She bucked her legs; binding and locking Harvey's torso, letting his warm seed enter and spread in her womb. 

"Blast you, Sam!" cried Harvey, his one eye wincing in pleasure, "don't you understand how dangerous this... Oh rats. I'm still going..." 

"I care no more!" laughed Sam. "For you see, Harvey, for better or worse, I am going to accompany you!" 

Harvey plucked his penis off Sam's vagina; streaks of red bloodying it. "You really are off your rocker! I say, what does that have to do with anything? Accompany me? Where to?" 

"You mentioned about moving to the city," answered Sam, "this way commuting to your University won't be as far, as difficult. I've considered living together with you." 

"You're deranged… mad!" 

"You're the one who is mad," answered Sam; "do you really suppose you can survive Tertiary Education without my aid? You barely passed High School, and you believe becoming independent is a prime strategy? No, sir, it won't do!" 

"Now you can’t just do that,” said he; “there is also this business of your waiting for your parents' instructions too; in getting you back to normal; And wait you must in your apartment here, so you said. And besides, hadn't you said you can’t stand city-people? Something about the them being the modern plague?" 

"I am willing to overlook it. And about my parents' word; they've already sent it," said Sam, frowning a little. "They… they’ve told there is no method in reverting its effects.” 

“Oh,” came his abrupt and sad reply, “I apologise, Sammy.” 

“I am as I am, old boy,” she then said, with a smile this time, “and I daresay I do not mind this new life of mine. Let changes be, as they are." And here Sam stands up; cleans herself with the mattress, picks up some fresh, clothes from her wardrobe, and grabs for a bright, blue hat from her hat rack. She was all very quick about it. 

"I think this would fit me nicely, but I would need to wash first…” said she in front of a tall mirror; “oh, how slow and clumsy you move, Harvey. Tally less! We have a city to run off to."