“There are days I feel more robotic and days I feel more human. People tip more when my body is shaped like a female human, but they also expect me to act in a feminine way. Some days I can do that and some days I cannot.”

Mr. Paget (who’d been spending more time male in recent weeks) had been trying for months to acquire another restaurant space near a Venn machine, and not long before this he had finalized the lease of a shopfront in Reidsville right around the corner from the Venn machine — the one that the city council had gone to a lot of effort to make attractive, putting up an awning, lockers, benches and so on. In the last few weeks he’d sometimes been absent, delegating things to the assistant manager for the morning shifts, supervising the renovation and hiring people for the new location.

The original location was now mostly being run by Mr. Buckholtz, previously the weekday evening shift manager, who I’d dealt with relatively little since I’d usually been working mornings and early afternoons since I graduated. He favored modified human forms with extra arms, legs, or facial features, and varicolored hair and skin, but he could sometimes be seen in furry, scaly, or cyborg bodies, and he was female or androgynous less than a quarter of the time, from what I heard. And the Saturday when Lydia went off to Greensboro and Chapel Hill with the Ramseys, Mr. Buckholtz was officially put in charge of Metamorphoses I while Mr. Paget presided over Metamorphoses II’s grand opening.

Things went pretty much as normal during the breakfast rush. During the lull between breakfast and lunch, though, Mr. Buckholtz called all the public-facing staff into his office one by one. I asked Jill what it was about after she came out.

“He wanted me to use other forms besides the mouse-girl more often,” she said. “He said if we can promise people they’ll always see something new when they come, they’ll come more often.”

“I guess that makes sense,” I said, continuing to fold silverware bundles into napkins.

A few minutes later, he called me in. He had four eyes spaced evenly around a bald head today, and white skin with a slight purple tinge.

“Lauren Wallace, right?” he asked, glancing back and forth between me and something on his computer screen.

“Yes, sir.”

“Coming up on six months working for us... you’ll be getting another raise in November.” (I’d gotten a small raise after three months.) “It says here you’re willing to venn into pretty much anything except a male body; is that right?”

“Well, I don’t like pure inanimate forms either — I mean, a living doll that can walk and talk is fine, but not a dress or a necklace. But inanimates woudn’t be any use for work, so I didn’t put them in the exclusions.”

“Of course, of course... What venn forms have you used for work? I’m trying to get to know everyone, especially people who’ve mostly worked mornings.”

I listed as many work forms as I could remember, including the chibi dragon, the cyborg dragon, the wolf-and-sheep-headed creature, and the long-necked two-headed dragon. Today I was just my usual purple-scaled dragon-girl self.

“And about how often do you change forms?”

“Well, it depends on whether I’m scheduled on a Monday or Friday, and whether I feel up to doing the two-headed act on a given day. It takes a level of concentration and energy I don’t always have. But I figure I change it up at least twice a week, sometimes as much as five times.”

“Good, good... Have you given any thought to your Halloween form?” I was scheduled for a morning shift on Halloween, the Monday after we returned from Greenville.

“I was thinking about another dragon form, a bit larger than usual, maybe seven feet tall, and kind of modeled on Maleficent’s dragon form from Sleeping Beauty. Big body, long neck and small head, relatively small arms... I’ll need to modify it a bit to make the arms strong enough to carry trays.”

“Good. Most kids will be in school during your shift, but some smaller kids might come in with their parents and we don’t want anything too scary until the evening shift. I’d like you to consider varying your forms more — not necessarily changing form more often, twice a week is okay for now, but using a wider range of forms, not just on special theme days.”

We talked about some other possible forms and he dismissed me. We got busy with the lunch rush before he had quite finished talking with everyone. Todd (who’d been a clunky-looking but surprisingly graceful Forbidden Planet-style robot for the last week) confided in his mechanical voice that Mr. Buckholtz had suggested he use sexy fembot bodies more often, as well as furry and scaly cyborgs.

“Does that bother you?” I asked.

“There are days I feel more robotic and days I feel more human. People tip more when my body is shaped like a female human, but they also expect me to act in a feminine way. Some days I can do that and some days I cannot.”

“If it bothers you, talk to Mr. Buckholtz about it. Or I could try to talk to him for you?”

“He did not require me to venn into a fembot on any particular schedule. I think I can accommodate him.”

* * *

At the end of lunch, Mrs. Ramsey asked Meredith if she was ready to guess which of her parents was which.

“I really wasn’t sure at first. But I noticed a couple of times that you,” tilting her head toward Mrs. Ramsey, “would put your hand on hers when she was about to say something, and she’d stop and think before speaking. And you,” looking at Mr. Ramsey, “you do that thing where you rub one thumb along the skin between your other thumb and your index finger.” Mr. Ramsey facepalmed. “So you’re Dad, and you’re Mom.”

“I guess we’ve got some laundry to do,” Mrs. Ramsey said.

We returned to Meredith’s dorm and went up to her room, where she introduced us to her roommate, Gianna. She had two pairs of eyes, one above the other, but the upper pair was closed the whole time we were in the room. We didn’t stay there long; Sophia and I chatted with Gianna for a couple of minutes while Meredith gleefully dumped a ton of laundry in her parents’ arms. After they put the laundry in the back of the van, we took a long walk around campus (or rather they walked, and Sophia and Meredith took turns letting me ride on their shoulders); we saw the bell tower, several libraries, a bunch of dorms and classroom buildings, the arboretum, the planetarium (it didn’t suit to go inside just then), and the Venn machine. As we passed by, the doors opened and two identical green kittens came out, to be immediately scooped up and cuddled by a short, stocky Hispanic girl with matching green hair.

After over an hour of walking, we returned to where we’d parked the van and said goodbye to Meredith. I hopped off Meredith’s shoulder into her arms, and we hugged before she hugged Sophia and handed me back to her. Then we were on the way home.

We hadn’t been home long when my other self came home from work. Once she’d rested a little while from being on her feet for hours, Sophia gave us a ride to the library and we merged. I could have gone into the machine by myself while Lauren stayed at home and rested, and Sophia and I suggested that, but Lauren said, “I’d like to go ahead and venn into tomorrow’s work form, and take time tweaking it tonight rather than rushing it tomorrow morning. You’ll understand when we get each other’s memories, but I think I ought to change forms more often.”

So we went in one booth, Lydia in Lauren’s arms, and merged. Sophia went into the other booth and said, “Okay, what do you want for tomorrow?”

“A robot dragon,” I said, gathering my thoughts and memories. “Kind of like Mecha Godzilla, but with wings, and with arms better suited for carrying trays.” (Bianca and I had started watching the Godzilla movies recently.)

We had to iterate that design a couple of times to get to where I had a good voice that didn’t sound too grating. A robotic-sounding voice was fine, but it had to be clear so the customers could understand me.

* * *

I changed forms about every other day after that, not wanting to disappoint Mr. Buckholtz just a few weeks before I was due to get a raise. He didn’t speak to me again about varying my forms, though he did speak to a couple of other people about wearing the same body too many days in a row, or going back to the same venns from their history too soon rather than doing something new. As Halloween approached, we started wearing monstrous forms more often, though they weren’t really mandatory except on the three days leading up to Halloween — two of which I’d be taking off to go to Greenville and see Jada. On the Friday before Britt, Lisette, Poppy and I would leave, I tried out a silly vampire form, with anime eyes, ridiculously large fangs, a red cloak and a fake Hungarian accent.

Then Britt picked me up after work. Between her and Lisette, she had the more reliable car, so we were going to Greenville in it. Lisette and Poppy were snuggling in the back seat. I got in the front passenger seat and we went to the Ramseys’ house to pick up my suitcase, and to say goodbye to Bianca and her parents (Sophia was still at work), and then we were on the road.

We listened to music on the way, taking turns connecting our phones to the stereo so we had a wide variety of music — Bulletproof Sombrero, Nightwish, the Ditty Bops, the Doors, They Might Be Giants, Caravan Palace, Fats Waller, Tuatara, and I don’t know who else. We stopped to eat supper in Greensboro, so it was around eleven when we finally got to Greenville and parked in the visitor lot, where Jada and Steph met us, as we’d texted Jada when we were getting close.

“Come on,” Jada said. “The Venn machine’s this way.”

We all gave Steph our phones, and the keys to Britt’s car (our luggage would stay locked in the trunk until the next day). Then we venned each other into tiny forms, about three inches high, wearing soft, snuggly flannel pajamas. Steph carefully put us all in a box lined with towels and carried us back to their dorm room, then set the box on Jada’s bed and tilted it carefully over so we could climb out.

Steph looked at us wistfully. “Y’all look really comfy there,” she said. “Maybe sometime you can venn me and Greg into little bitty bodies like that, Jada?”

“Sure,” Jada said, yawning. “If you can talk Greg into it, I’ll help with the logistics.

Earlier, Jada had laid a couple of her T-shirts on the bed for us to use as blankets — they would be easier for our tiny hands to pull on and off than the big sheets and blankets Jada’s bed was made with, which she’d pulled down to give a couple of feet of clear space at the head. Steph got out a bag of cotton balls that Jada had bought and tore some of them into smaller pieces for us to use as pillows. Then she got into her own bed while Jada, Britt and I snuggled together under the hem of one T-shirt and Poppy and Lisette snuggled a few inches away under another one. We chatted quietly for a while, but it wasn’t long before we fell asleep.

* * *

I woke up and yawned. There was dawn light coming through the curtained window, and Jada was propped on one arm, looking at me and smiling. She put a finger to her lips, and I didn’t say “Good morning” as I’d been about to, but looked around.

Britt was still asleep, one of her left arms sprawled across my stomach. A few inches further away (double the width of a king-size bed from my shrunken perspective), Poppy and Lisette were spooning, snoring softly with Lisette’s arms wrapped around Poppy.

I reached out and stroked Jada’s hair, and said very quietly, “Good morning, sweetie.”

She snuggled closer and we kissed. One thing would have led to another if we hadn’t been concerned about waking up Britt. She’d worked yesterday like me and Lisette and Poppy, but her job was perhaps more physically demanding than ours, and then she’d also driven for three hours. (Lisette and I had offered to help drive, but she’d declined).

“Let’s go somewhere more private,” Jada whispered. She wriggled out from under the T-shirt whose hem was covering us, trying not to disturb it too much, and I followed. I gently lifted Britt’s arm off me, then set it down softly after I wriggled out from under it and the T-shirt, and stood up, a little wobbly as the soft mattress didn’t give my feet solid support. Jada stood up too, and we walked around toward the pulled-back sheet and blanket eighteen inches away.

“What are you planning?” I whispered back as we approached the crumpled sheet and blanket.

For an answer, she bent down and heaved up the sheet. We were strong out of proportion to our size, but it still took her an effort, and I joined in to lift up the edge of the sheet and the blanket over it, revealing a deep cavern. She ducked inside and I followed; the sheet and blanket fell down behind us, and on top of us, knocking us down but not hurting. It was pretty dark, though not pitch black, and I hoped our giggles were muffled by the blanket and wouldn’t wake up Britt, Lisette, Poppy or Steph as we crawled deeper under the blanket until we got a point where the crumpling created a roomier cavern.

“What if they wake up and start looking for us?” I asked as she pulled off my pajama shirt.

“Wouldn’t that be exciting if Steph pulled off the sheets and found us like this?” she teased.

“No! That would be super embarrassing!” I instinctively covered my breasts as though Steph could see them.

“But it turns you on.” She pulled my hands away and felt the evidence.

“Kind of... I think it would be mean to Steph, though.”

“She wouldn’t really dig under the blankets for us, though,” Jada said. “She’ll figure out that if we’re not where she left us, we went somewhere nearby to find privacy. Lisette and Poppy, though... they might get the same idea, and just happen to stumble on the same cave...”

I squeaked and Jada laughed. “This might not be the best time, in other words,” I managed to say in between gasps as Jada worked her fingers into the waistband of my pajama pants.

“We won’t have a lot of other chances this weekend,” she said. “Pleeeaaaase?”

“Oh, all right,” I said, and started tugging her shirt off.

My other free stories can be found at:

• Scribblehub
• DeviantArt
• Shifti
• TGStorytime
• Fictionmania
• Archive of Our Own

Scribblehub is the best place to follow me these days; most things get posted there first and when I finish a story, I schedule all its chapters to appear on Scribblehub in their turn, so if something happens to me, updates on BC and TGS will stop but Scribblehub will still continue posting chapters until they're done.

I also have several ebooks for sale, most of whose contents aren't available elsewhere for free. Smashwords pays its authors higher royalties than Amazon. itch.io's pay structure is hard to compare with the other two, but seems roughly in the same ballpark.

• Smashwords
• Amazon
• itch.io