Doctors Howard and Sara Martin have been studying MORFS since MORFS first appeared. As some of the world's foremost experts on MORFS, they were ready when Larry and Cindy, their twins, came down with the condition. But before they could catch their collective breath, they received the opportunity to study MORFS from a completely different perspective.

sex: 2/10
violence: 4/10
profanity: 2/10

Categories: Male to Hermaphrodite, Female to Hermaphrodite, Hybrid, Elemental, PSI

Timeline: 2060

---

Chapter Four: MORFS gets really personal

The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the hospital. Doctor Mary Jacobson was examining me.

"So, Howard... got tired of studying MORFS from the outside, eh?"

I just kind of groaned and said, "Huh?"

"You and Sara have a weird case of MORFS. Gladys about freaked when Sara passed out. She called 911."

I looked over and saw Sara's sleeping form. She didn't appear to be changing yet. Of course, we didn't know if this strain would change us or not. It might do nothing, or it might kill us.

I looked up at Mary again. "How long have I been out?"

She smiled. "Oh, only about a day. We should probably knock you out again for the duration, but I'm wondering if you know anything about how you managed to get MORFS."

I reminded her about the research Sara and I were doing, and suggested that she and some of our colleagues go through our lab. I gave her the passwords to the secured folders and the location of the papers we were writing, then sank back to the bed.

Mary injected something in my IV, and the lights went out.

I woke up feeling great. In fact, I felt better than I had in a long time. The room was bright and cheery, and the colors were vibrant. They were somehow different. Then, it dawned on me that I probably have the same UVA vision that the kids have.

I rolled over and saw the cutest little catgirl looking at me.

"Cindy?" My voice sounded funny.

"No, silly! It's me, Sara. Cindy and Larry will no doubt be here soon enough."

I shook my head, then smiled. "It looks like we managed to come up with a youth formula after all. You look great!"

"You don't look so bad yourself, cutie!"

Cutie?

So I, the distinguished Professor Doctor Howard G. Martin, picked my tired old body up off of the bed and walked toward the bathroom.

But I felt neither old nor tired. I hopped up with a spring that I had never had before. I also felt some bouncing on my chest that I had never felt before. I looked at the mirror on the back of the bathroom door and jumped about three feet in the air. I almost hit my pointy little cat ears on the ceiling.

An adorable little catgirl with straw blond hair and big blue eyes looked back at me and mimicked my every motion.

Sara looked at me with amusement. "I wonder if our students are going to give us the respect they used to give us."

"Well," I mused. "If nothing else, they ought to give us even more attention. The problem might be getting them to look at the board instead of us."

After all the thousands of post-MORFS exams I have done in my career, it was definitely a different experience to do one on myself.

"Hmmm...," I mused. "Despite appearances, I guess I haven't joined the squat-to-pee club after all.

"I know," replied Sara. "I'm a halfie, too. I guess that means that we're still made for each other."

She walked over to me and gave me a hug. "I can hardly wait to get home and try this new equipment."

"Mind if I join you?"

We both started laughing. That must not be common behavior for post-MORFS patients, because a nurse we had never met before came bursting into the room. She looked concerned, then she smiled at us.

"Well, it looks like you kids are handling your changes well."

We busted up again. I looked at Sara and said, "So, Doctor Martin, how are you handling your changes."

"Just fine, Doctor Martin. And you?"

"Oh, everything's just ducky, or peachy-keen. The cat's meow, even!" I replied.

Sara looked at me and said, "Technically, you can keep your old name. Still, I don't think you look much like a 'Howard' any more."

The nurse looked confused, then comprehension came across her face. She turned red and said, "Oh, I'm sorry about calling you kids!"

"No worries," I said. "We actually got a kick out of it."

The nurse left the room, so we both let our shapeless hospital gowns drop and looked ourselves over critically.

Sara is about the same size as before, but slimmer and more lithe and feline and sexy. Actually, she looks a lot like our daughter, only more mature. She has that perky look of youth combined with the smooth look of maturity. Her breasts are somewhere between a B and a C cup, and are perfect for her new body shape. I think I fell in love with her all over again.

Her formerly chestnut brown hair is now a lovely midnight black that shows off her perky little seal point kitty ears. Her eyes are the same emerald green as Cindy's, and her face has the same exotic look. When I look at her, I still see the same woman I have loved throughout the years, but with changes that make her even more lovely and exotic.

My changes are considerably more dramatic. While I'm still technically as male as I am female, my body doesn't look even a tiny bit male. The fact is, Sara and I have both managed to get the suite of genes that give us both male and female parts.

Sara had used the slang term 'halfie', but the technical term is 'hermaphrodite'. The legal/social term is 'intersexed.' I'm not fond of that description because it isn't very descriptive. It is used for any person that Isn't strictly and totally male or female. Any change or ambiguity in the primary or secondary gender traits is enough to get one labeled as intersexed.

Anyhow, there are several types of hermaphrodites. Over the years, we have cataloged them and mapped the DNA that produces each type. This is possible because the standard post-MORFS exam includes a complete genetic scan. Statistical analysis is used to map the suite of genes. Interestingly enough, we haven't managed to map the suite of genes for any of the elemental powers.

So, we appear to be DNA group 204F Hermaphrodites. That's good because the testes are tucked up inside where they're nice and safe (they work fine at body temperature, so they don't have to dangle perilously.) Also, the other male bits are fully retractable, and stay retracted until we tell them otherwise. That makes for less embarrassment when wearing tight female clothes.

"Well, it looks like you'll have less to complain about the next time we go wilderness camping. We can both piss on a tree."

"We haven't been wilderness camping since the kids came along," she replied.

"Then it's time to do it again. Our bodies seem to be up to the task."

We each stood there lost in our own thoughts. The world has opened up again. The things that we did before, we can do again. This time, though, we can take the kids along. Also, we won't have to worry about getting back home on time and making a living.

I looked at the two of us standing in front of the mirror. Our bodies were pretty much the same size and shape. We both have an interesting pattern of tanning. Our color varies from a creamy light Caucasian color to a satiny dark color that is reminiscent of both the color of our seal point ears and of a dark-skinned Mediterranean person. Our feet and the tops of our hands are dark -- just like a seal point. Our legs lighten to a 'California tan' color, as do the tops of our arms. Our palms, the bottom of our forearms, our biceps, our bellies, and our breasts are all a creamy white. If we face a mirror with our arms at our sides and our palms facing the mirror, most of what we see is white. The color darkens gradually at our sides and on our backs, and the area immediately around our spines is the same dark color as our hands and feet. Our tails are colored like a seal point Siamese cat.

Where Sara has midnight hair, mine is straw blond. The base of my ears match that color, and they quickly fade to the warm velvet black of a seal point. Our faces have the same tan look, but Sara's face appears lighter because of her dark hair.

I'm still as male as I am female, so I definitely got turned on looking at myself. That'll take some getting used to. The real turn-on, of course, is looking at the two of us in the mirror. What man wouldn't be turned on by such a pair of lovelies? The curvy body shapes that are so similar to each other accentuates the difference in hair and eye colors. Sara's emerald eyes go well with her midnight hair, and my sapphire eyes perfectly compliment my straw blond hair.

After a good shower, we spent the rest of the morning getting the standard post-MORFS tests. Of course, that means that I got my first pelvic exam. Then, the doctor examined my prostate. There ain't no justice, I tell you.

We came out pretty much like the kids. We probably managed to get infected by the same suite of bugs. There's no doubt that we're going to turn heads when we go anywhere as a family. After all, how often do you see a family of four who all have the ears and tail of a seal point Siamese cat?

Actually, they'll probably think that we're brothers and sisters. MORFS really did turn back the clock for us. We have the development of someone of about 25 years of age, but we look more like we're sixteen because everything is brand-new.

The genetic results were interesting. Among other things, we have DNA group 1255C high output muscles and DNA group 3266B nanotube reinforced bones, fingernails, and claws. The nanotube parts are particularly interesting because the DNA that allows nanotubes to be synthesized is totally man-made. How did it get into the genome?

The telepaths couldn't get a reading on us, so we don't know if we have any powers. Apparently, we have the ability to block telepathic reading. We don't have any conscious control over it now, but we may get some control later.

Gladys brought the kids over as soon as she heard that we were up and around. They managed to get here just as we were finishing up.

"Oh, you guys are all so cute!"

I rolled my eyes. Sara jabbed me in the ribs and informed me that that's not a ladylike expression.

Gladys pulled out a camera and insisted that we all line up for our first all kitty family portrait. I protested that we're hardly dressed for a portrait.

"Oh, you can get a better one done later. This one is for the scrap book and will commemorate the first time the feline four got together."

She handed us a bag of Cindy's clothes, so we wasted no time getting out of our hospital gowns and into the tank tops, shorts, and sneakers that Gladys had brought for us. I had seen Sara put on a bra enough times to know that it's easiest to put it on backwards, do the clasps, spin it around, and put my arms through the loops.

We walked out of the bathroom and lined up for our mug shots.

The first was a picture of just Sara and me. After Gladys took a few shots from different angles, Cindy stood next to me, and Larry stood next to Sara. After she took a few shots, we all cuddled up close so that our hair was touching. We tried a number of other outlandish poses, having a good time until a nurse came and kicked us all out.

The ironic thing is that we look like three girls and one boy. In reality, our family of four contains three boys and three girls.

"Come on, Kitten Mitten, let's go."

I looked at Sara and pretended to be offended. "Kitten Mitten?"

She giggled. "It fits you, you know."

I sighed noisily. "Well, I'll just have to take your word for it."

"Yes you will, Kitten Mitten."

"I guess you can call me Kim, then. I don't think 'Kitten Mitten' would look good on my birth certificate addendum."

And so that's how we did it. On the way out of the hospital, we stopped by the post-MORFS record center, turned in the paperwork that the doctors had given to us, gave them my new name, and had our mug shots taken.

Now, Sara and I each have a birth certificate addendum. The government used to issue amended birth certificates for MORFES survivors, but they now issue an addendum. The original birth certificate is unchanged, since it is supposed to represent our status at birth. The addendum contains our new biometrics (fingerprints, retina prints, iris prints, and the like), a DNA scan, some pictures, and medical data. The office automatically sent the changes over to the school and the DMV so that we could get a new college ID and a new driver's license. We also had them send the information to the FAA, FCC, and PADI so that they could update our pilot licenses, ham licenses, and scuba certification cards.

We were quite the celebrities over there because most MORFS survivors have only school ID and maybe a driver's license to change. We're the first people over the age of thirty to change.

We picked up our new documents on the way out. For a government office, the Post-MORFS record center was remarkably efficient. We'll have to wait for the FAA, and PADI to send new stuff in the mail, but the common stuff is printed right there at the center. The FCC no longer issues amateur radio licenses on paper, so our updated licenses appeared pretty much instantly on the FCC web site. I wonder how long it'll take for the changes to trickle through the other various ham-related sites.

So, armed with our new cards, we went to the mall. We started by dropping off my wedding ring to get it resized. Sara's hand is pretty much the same as before -- the only change being slightly longer fingers. My hands have changed considerably.

Sara dragged me into the beauty salon. Gladys had taken the liberty of making an appointment for us, and we managed to get there just in time.

Chapter Five: The obligatory mall trip

Armed with their allowances, Cindy and Larry headed to the music store -- leaving me to the tender mercies of Sara and the mob at the beauty salon. They crooned and cooed over our changes, and were definitely prepared to give us the works. I tried to be grumpy about it, but they could tell that I was enjoying the attention. I made one tactical error, though. I commented to Sara that her kitty ears weren't going to work with her ear rings, so she would have to give them all away -- unless she wanted to get her navel pierced.

We both ended up with holes in our belly buttons. Me and my big mouth. When Cindy came back to check up on us, she was shanghaied and perforated, too. In the end, they worked the same magic with Sara and me that they had done with Cindy.

After that harrowing experience, we went back to the jeweler and picked up my wedding ring. It was a bit thicker because the gold was pressed into a smaller diameter band. It turned out to be quite comfortable. The metal elemental that owns the jewelry shop did an excellent job.

Then, we went shopping. I tried to get out of it, but no dice. I pointed out to Sara that her size hasn't changed much, and that I'm now her size and can wear her stuff until I get around to getting more stuff.

No dice.

sigh

So, we shopped.

The people at the beauty salon had done a considerable amount of testing -- draping different colored pieces of cloth on us to determine what colors go best with our new complexion. We went shopping armed with little packets that contain snippets of cloth. The fashion police have spoken.

I'm used to the drill, of course. I had done it before. Several years ago, we found the best shade of navy for my suits. Sara grumbled when I found a suit that worked well and ordered a dozen of them.

Hey, it worked. To get ready for work, I just had to grab a crisp, white shirt, a pair of pants, and a suit jacket.

Oh yeah, I did have to choose a tie. Generally, I just closed my eyes and grabbed one -- much to Sara's consternation.

But I don't think I'll be getting away with that anymore.

We started with the underwear. I already knew my size, so I just went down the row and grabbed a few packages of cotton panties.

But hey, I'm not a total cad. I got white ones to go under light clothes, and black ones to go under dark clothes. Why are women's clothes made out of such thin material, anyhow?

Sara snatched the packages out of the shopping cart and shook them at me. "Heretic! Heathen!"

I just shook my head. "OK, dear. Why don't you pick out whatever you think is appropriate, and I'll just carry my new plumpified rear into the dressing room and try on whatever you deign to pass to me?"

She gave me a mock stern look. "That's more like it!"

And so it went.

And so it went some more.

And so we went around the store, holding clothes up to check the color, trying things on, chatting with the sales people, and generally spending a fortune. Cindy decided to hang out with us. She told us that we need her help choosing clothes to fit our new image. No more fuddy-duddy old people clothes for us! I think she was just hoping to pick up a few more outfits for herself, but who am I to argue? Besides, it gives Sara someone besides me to focus upon.

Still, it didn't take long for me to find myself attired in a black leather mini skirt (with a tail hole, of course), a short charcoal gray tank top, and sandals with low heels. Now, the world can see my flat belly, decorated with a sapphire that matches my eyes.

Cindy managed to con her mom into getting her a pleated skirt and crop top. Sara chose a mini and crop top that match her hair. The effect was stunning.

"Meow! Where have you girls been all my life?"

Three boys who looked to be about fifteen were approaching us. I could see Sara's tail twitching in annoyance. Cindy was kind of smirking, but she didn't look at all impressed.

"Well," I said, "Sara and I have been teaching at the university, doing research on MORFS, and raising Cindy and Larry."

I don't think they believed me.

But hey, it was an obvious pick up line so I figured that an answer to the actual question would be appropriate. When they realized that they weren't going to get anywhere with their attempted pick up, they wandered off. Sara called Larry on her eCom and had him meet us at the food court. Soon, we were sitting around a table and pigging out -- I mean dining.

"Larr!"

Larry looked up, then waved. Soon, a boy about his age walked up. "Dude, you never told me that you had three gorgeous sisters!"

Larry smirked. "I don't. I only have one sister."

The boy looked confused.

Sara said in her best motherly voice, "Larry, don't you think you ought to introduce us to your friend?"

Larry blushed. "Sorry!" Then he said, "Mom and Dad, this is Peter Nelson, one of my best friends at school." He indicated each of us in turn. "This is Professor Doctor Kim Martin, my father, and this is Professor Doctor Sara Martin, my mother, and you already know my sister."

After the obligatory shaking of hands and polite 'Pleased to meet you' statements, we invited Peter to sit with us.

Cindy broke the awkward silence. "I believe you enjoy messing with your friends' heads."

Larry snickered. "I was just watching Pete here try to figure out how to ask the obvious questions without sounding impolite."

He pulled out his wallet and opened it to the family portrait that he keeps there. "Mom and Dad got hit with the same MORFS strain that got Cindy and me. Apparently, it got contaminated with some DNA they were goofing with. They were trying to figure out how to get a person's body to rebuild itself so that nobody has to die of old age."

I could see the wheels turning. Finally, he said, "Oh! You must be those two researchers that we learned about in health class! If Mister Smith knew that he had your kids in his class, he would be pestering you to be a guest lecturer."

I turned to Sara. "What do you think? Wanna teach health class for a day?"

"Sure!" She turned to Larry. "Tell your teacher to give us a call so that we can set something up."

We chatted while everyone finished eating. Like the kids, Sara and I have an increased metabolism and appetite We all ended up getting second helpings, then dessert.

Finally sated, we collected our bags and headed out the door.

There seemed to be a demonstration going on, but we ignored it. In general, demonstrators tend to say their piece without really directly engaging their audience.

But it was different this time.

Being a long-time MORFS researcher, I have always had little use for the 'Moral Purity' folks. Oh, I believe in morality and grace. What I don't believe is that being MORFS survivor has anything to do with what's inside someone's heart. And, even if I did, I wouldn't be using hate in a misguided attempt to bring people into God's kingdom. Spiritually, that's not the way it should be done. Pragmatically, it doesn't work very well. You attract more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.

We're used to being able to ignore these little demonstrations and pass by unnoticed.

But not this time.

"Heathens! Freaks!" shouted one of the people in the group. "Repent and save your soul!"

"My soul has already been saved," Larry said dismissively.

When you have been a professor for as many years as we have, you learn to project your voice with authority. "But Yahweh said to Samuel, 'Don't look on his face, or on the height of his stature; because I have rejected him: for Yahweh sees not as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but Yahweh looks at the heart.'"

"Heresy!" shouted one of the demonstrators.

"No, it's First Samuel 16:7," replied Sara.

"Perhaps you should read your Bible instead of acting like a bunch of Pharisees," said Cindy.

"That should give them something to think about, but I doubt if thinking is their strong point," mumbled Larry.

After that little confrontation, we walked without further harassment to our car. I saw some motion over in the shadows, but I didn't think much of it. I had just loaded the last of our purchases and closed the trunk lid when about ten men surrounded us. "We don't like what you said to the pastor, freaks!"

We should have been petrified, but we all forced ourselves to remain calm. Showing fear is a sure way to get beat up.

"I think you realize that attacking us could get you a lengthly stay in jail. How about letting us go so that we can all forget about this assault?"

He answered by grabbing my arm. "Come on, Kitty Girl. Time to go see the pastor."

"Let go of me!" I growled.

Before anyone could do anything, Larry rushed him and gave him a quick uppercut to the jaw; knocking him out. As one of his buddies went after Larry, I whirled around and gave him a knee to the groin. I gave a third assailant a quick punch to the solar plexus. Within seconds, it was over. All of them were laying on the ground, some sporting deep scratches. I wanted to just leave and let them pick themselves up, but that would give them the opportunity to pull together some web of lies and get us in trouble. I pulled out my eCom and called the police.

Soon, the ambulances took away the protesters, and we were talking to the police. Fortunately for us, Cindy had set her eCom to record just as soon as the first insults were hurled by the protesters. The police took our statements, grabbed a copy of Cindy's recording, and left.

The drive home was quiet. We were all lost in our own thoughts.

Once we got home, we all took our booty and stashed it. We carefully packed all of my old clothes into boxes so that we could give them to the local Salvation Army store. They're all good items. Someone will be blessed by them.

There wasn't a single item that I really wanted to keep. When you go from 6'2" and slightly pudgy to 5'9" and lithe, little will fit. Sure, I could probably use my winter coat or maybe some of my sweats (the tops, anyhow). Why bother, though? It's not like we can't afford to replace those few items. All I kept were some t-shirts that Sara and I can use for sleeping or covering up at the pool.

Sara had a lot of stuff to ditch, too. There were a lot of things that she could still wear, but, being realistic, probably wouldn't. There were some items that look good on a 70 year old woman, but would look quite out of place on a cute teenage catgirl. Even the conservative suits that she used for teaching would be too loose to look professional.

Time for a clean break. We packed everything up and the kids helped us load them into the back of the truck. Gladys volunteered to take them over to the Salvation Army store for us.

As I was putting on my bikini, I noticed that my navel piercing was already healed.

We were still a little subdued when we went into the back yard and sat around the pool. Sara pointed out that we're letting the idiots win if we let them control our attitude. With that, Cindy threw a wadded up piece of paper at Larry, yelled "Can't catch me!", and ran toward the old oak tree in the corner of the yard. Larry was right behind her when she leapt up to the lowest branch, which was about twelve feet off the ground. Her claws caught the wood, and she scrambled up onto the branch and to the top of the tree. Larry scrambled up after her.

I rolled my eyes and looked at Sara. "Kids!"

She smirked at me. "Come get me, Kitten Mitten!"

I almost caught up to her on the way to the tree, but she was soon scrambling for the top. I followed her up and caught up with her about half way up the tree. I put my arms around her and kissed her deeply. Something stirring in my groin told me that we would definitely be experimenting with our new equipment tonight.

"Awwwww! Ain't that cute!"

I smirked up at Cindy. "Age hath its privileges!"

"Just don't make a bunch of noise, or the neighbors might throw a shoe at you."

We all climbed down and did a few laps in the pool. Then, we just splashed about and had fun. Larry and Cindy were already pretty much used to their new bodies, but it was all new and wonderful to Sara and me. We should have been exhausted by all the activity, but we were no more than just a bit tired. It was a good kind of tired. It was starting to get dark, so we ate a light dinner and headed for our rooms.

"Are you ready to experiment, Doctor Martin?"

"Of course I am, Doctor Martin!"

The kids just rolled their eyes and went off to their rooms to do homework, check on their email, and whatever other stuff teenage kids do. Sara and I, of course, experimented. No, the neighbors didn't throw a shoe at our window. We were happy that the walls of our bedroom were somewhat sound absorbent, though.

(end of part two)

---