Insert standard disclaimer here: The one that reminds everyone that this is a work of fiction. No one is real and any resemblance to someone who is real is purely coincidence, honest. This is also a Fan Fiction set in the Whateley Story Universe. No Canon characters were permanently harmed in the making of this story. I hope. :)

Note: Okay, I know, this was supposed to be the final chapter, but the characters seem to have a mind of their own. Yes, the previous chapter was also supposed to be the final chapter too. *sigh* I have a lot of ch 42 written, but I need to focus on Jade Skirt. So, there will be a delay on the real final chapter of Whisper. Sorry about that... Anyway, Thanks go out to my beta-readers/editors/sanity checkers as well as djkauf for his magical editing.

** Chapter 41 **

“Weelll, I have to admit that it was kind of funny...”  My mom struggles to contain her laughter.

I don’t think that she is very sorry. “Are you sure that it is safe for you to be here?”

“Stinker!” She sticks her tongue out at me before finally composing herself. “So, tell me what happened. I mean, I know you told Mr. Reilly, but I wanna hear it from you.”

I am getting pretty good at telling the story.  It only takes me 30 minutes this time around and that is even with my mom’s hug and sniffle interruptions.  I follow that up with showing her the house and lugging both of our suitcases to our rooms.  Her suitcase makes me glad that I am slightly stronger than I look because I would feel pretty wussy if I had to wait for Uncle Jim to lug it up the stairs for me.  My suitcase is still only half full, thus it is fairly light, but I am sure that little deficiency will be fixed before I leave on Saturday.

She is very surprised by my admission that not only have I been helping Aunt Julie in the kitchen, but that I also helped her ready the guest room.  She has me drop my Chloe disguise and show her all the new clothes Aunt Julie got for me and she gets a little teary eyed when I model the skirt thing for her.  

“You should wear that on Saturday. It is practical and you look very pretty in it.” She says with her ‘this is not a suggestion’ expression.

“But, I don’t want to look ‘pretty’ on my first day and I don’t care about looking ‘pretty’...” I cross my arms over my chest. I am not going to give in on this.

“I know, but  first impressions are only made once.” My mom tries a different attack vector.

Sounds good, but I am not sold. “How does me wearing this outfit help with that?”

“Perception is reality. If you show up looking like you do right now, no one will ever question your gender.”

I attempt to speak, but my mom signals that she has more to say.

“Now, I have spoken a lot about this issue with Ms. Carson and while she assures me that Whateley is prepared to deal your situation; She also told me that there have been a few students in your situation and they have found that it was easier on the student if they presented themselves closer to the feminine norm. At least, initially.”

“My situation?  You mean my, you know what?”

“Yes...” She points at my body. “Your ‘situation’. I know that it has not been and is still not easy, but you should try to get used to wearing skirts as soon as possible.  They are the uniform that all girls-”

“What?!?!  You never told me girls at this school have to wear skirts? What the hell?”

My mom looks pained for a second. “Bree...language, please. No, I did not, but I also did not know about it until recently. However; Whateley is a private school...”

“Oh god, can’t I just go home and go back to my old school where I can wear what I want?”

“Sorry, but you, of all people, should know better than to ask that question. Seriously, Bree, it’s not that bad.”

“Maybe not for you, but I don’t want to have to wear a skirt.” I catch my reflection in the mirror and I have to admit that the skirtand leggings thing does look kinda nice. “Well, not all the time, but I certainly do NOT want to wear some schoolgirl uniform!” I shudder as I recollect some of my favorite Anime shows and all the fan service shots. Not that I complained that much at the time.

“Well, the girl’s uniform does have a pants option, but they try to limit it to the winter months.”

“Okay, it is still winter, so I will just plan on wearing the pants.”

“Bree...”

“What? Why do girls insist on freezing all the time? It’s too cold to wear a skirt, but I guess I could maybe wear this outfit on the first day. I mean, it is kind of like wearing pants, but not...”

“Okay, I’m not going to pressure you any more on this topic, but I was a little surprised about the uniform myself and I would rather have you find out now than at the school.”

I am not sure how to process that bit of data.  On one hand, I thought she understood, but on the other hand, I kind of understand her point. I sigh with frustration. “I better change back into my comfy jeans and Chloe disguise now. I wouldn’t wanna get this wrinkled...”

Aunt Julie chooses that moment to arrive. Well, not in the room all sudden-like a ninja, but I detect her garage door signal.  “Aunt Julie is home...”  

Dang it, now I do not have time to change out of the skirt, but maybe if I wear it tonight, it will be too dirty to wear on Saturday.  With that thought in mind, I simply reactivate my Chloe disguise and lead my mom downstairs so that I can introduce her to Aunt Julie.

We surprise Aunt Julie by meeting her in the hallway. “Oh, Chloe! You look, nice.”

It seems like everyone is conspiring to make me wear skirts now. “Umm, thanks. Aunt Julie, this is my mom...” I glance helplessly back at my mom as she rushes forward to give Aunt Julie a hug. What is it about hugs? “Umm, Mom, well, I think you know...”

“Oh my god, Doctor Stiles, thank you soooo much for taking care of Bree, I mean, Chloe and especially for allowing me to stay--”

Aunt Julie stops my mom. “Please Jennifer, Julie is fine and your daughter was a joy to have stay with us.”  She looks over at me fondly. “If I am ever lucky enough to have a daughter, I would want her to be exactly like Chloe.”

I do not know how to handle her compliment. It was meant to be a compliment, but does she mean she wants to have a son who is turned into a girl?  I am pretty sure that she does not really mean that, but how else would she have a daughter who was like me?  Why is her compliment so difficult for me to just accept and feel happy about?  Oh yeah, it’s because I am not used to being referred to as a ‘daughter’.

My mom graciously accepts the compliment, but glances back at me with concern before Aunt Julie drags her toward the kitchen. “Chloe, would you mind grabbing the groceries for me?”

I am not sure how to take her request right now.  Things are going too fast for me to really figure out, but it is easier to just do it and think about it later. “Umm, sure.”

Thankfully, the groceries consist of only two bags and they aren’t that heavy.  It only takes me a minute or two, 1.873 minutes, to fetch the groceries and return them to the kitchen.

“Thanks dear, just set them on the counter there.” Aunt Julie points to the open spot next to the fridge.  “Oh, and you should go change. You would not want to get that outfit dirty. You will need it when we go out tomorrow night.”

“What?” My head spins around a few times with confusion.  We are going out, that is good, but now Aunt Julie expects me to wear this outfit tomorrow night too. Oh, that might work out because girls cannot wear the same outfit twice in a row. It is in the girl rule book, somewhere.

“Well, we did tell Mrs. Grantson that we had plans already and now that your mom is here, Jim and I thought it would be nice if we took the two of you out for dinner and maybe a movie, our treat.”

“Oh, Julie, you shouldn’t have...” My mom says as I numbly make my way out of the kitchen.

Aunt Julie pokes her head around the corner to yell up the stairs. “Oh, Chloe, can you hurry because I would like your help getting dinner ready?”

I do not like how the dynamic has changed with my mom here.  Why do I suddenly feel like a little kid?  I liked how Aunt Julie treated me more like an adult and a friend than a little kid. Or, am I just imagining things?  I manage to get back into my comfy jeans and girl t-shirt without too much trouble.  The bra thing, that still sucks and I decide to rebel a bit by not wearing a bra.  Seriously, women survived for millions of years without bras. My breasts are not that big. Why do I have to wear a bra?

The stairs kind of point out the need for a bra, but a little jiggling is not that bad. Maybe, if I was going to run or play a sport, I would want to wear a bra, but why would I need one for just walking around the house? Besides, they are in no danger of popping out of my t-shirt and it feels kind of nice not having that thing restricting my chest.  I can breathe!

I was not imagining things.  My mom and Aunt Julie are bonding nicely over a glass of wine.  I still help Aunt Julie with the cooking and I find it interesting, but it is not the same.  To make matters worse, my mom notices my bra rebellion.

“Young lady, why aren’t you wearing a bra? You do know that will cause your breasts to sag, right?”

I glance down at my chest. I am not worried at all about my breasts sagging. “Huh? Oh, I didn’t want to. This is more comfortable.”

“Actually, there is no medical evidence to support that claim.” Aunt Julie, MD comes to my defense.  Hip hip hooray!

Now it is my mom’s turn to look confused. “There isn’t?”

“Nope, none at all.  It is mostly a marketing thing the bra manufacturers use to sell bras, but I still prefer to wear a bra myself. Mostly, because in my profession, it helps me look and feel more professional with my appearance.”

Over the next 20 minutes, I learn more about brassieres and the history of brassieres than I ever wanted to know.  I also learn that my mom is a C cup, but she experienced some sagging after breast feeding.  She also grew two sizes during and she breastfed both me and my sister for a little over a year. Way too much information for me to handle, especially when the conversation shifts to babies, pregnancy and the joys of being a mom.  You know, all the things I never had to or wanted to worry about, ever.  

I might be a girl now, but I am ‘never’ going to have sex with a guy and this little info dump only reinforces my decision.  Sex education classes should just hire my mom and Aunt Julie to come in and have ‘the talk’ with the kids.  There would be zero teenage pregnancies.

Uncle Jim’s arrival brings some much needed testosterone to the conversation. As in, his arrival stops all the embarrassing girl talk and shifts the topics back to things I am more comfortable with, like which restaurant and movie should we go to tomorrow night.  The restaurant is already decided, but the movie option proves to be more difficult than it should be.  Again, my mom adds complexity to what should be a simple process. Uncle Jim and I want to see that new “Astronaut Farmer” movie, but Aunt Julie and my mom want to see some chick flick called,  “In the Land of Women”.  

Seriously? It is about a porn star and it does have some hot chicks in it, but nothing blows up and no one gets naked!  Why would anyone want to watch it?  Sadly, I cannot officially use the last negative, but I am sure Uncle Jim thought the same thing.  Using their wifi, I am able to bring up show times and I find a nearby theater that has both movies playing and close to the same times.  I do find a review that mentions some boob exposure in the chick flick, but meh. Uncle Jim and I will see the good movie where stuff blows up, while the ladies, I mean, my mom and Aunt Julie, will watch the yucky movie about women crying, or something.

We do the hot tub again that night, but it is not the same. My mom is tickled pink to see me wearing a bikini, but I just feel more self-conscious and the adult conversation is boring.  Aunt Julie and my mom seem to enjoy each other’s company immensely, but I think Uncle Jim feels a little uncomfortable about how the conversation mostly seems to be centered on kids and babies. We decide to ‘retire’ to his office to play GEO. Well, for me to watch him play GEO.

Once again, he offers to let me use Aunt Julie’s laptop, but there is no way I am going to touch a computer with an active GEO session running.  Who knows what might happen? I could end up changed into a dragon or something worse, like an ugly troll.  No thank you, very much.

We ‘play’ until almost 2300 hours when a very tipsy Aunt Julie comes to retrieve Uncle Jim from his ‘den’ with my similarly tipsy mom in tow.  “Jen, you have got to see this!” Aunt Julie looks back and giggles at my mom. “Chloe, can you, you know, but not the same?” She waves her hands airily about.

Uncle Jim glances over at me with an expression that is part enthusiasm mixed  with embarrassment. I feel more embarrassment because now that my mom and Aunt Julie are standing side by side, wet and wearing next to nothing, I realize that my own mom is rather pretty too.  I am not going to mention the MILF thing, because that is just so, so gross.  

“You should change your mom too...”  Uncle Jim is under no such restrictions.

“Oh my god! Chloe, can you do that!?” Aunt Julie’s eyes almost pop out of her head.  She turns to my mom, swaying a little before she grabs my mom’s arm. “Jen, it is so cool!”

My mom looks hesitant initially, but Aunt Julie’s enthusiasm wins her over. “I know I probably shouldn’t encou, encour, allow you, but if you’re sure it’s safe...”

Wow, Aunt Julie is drunk and so is my mom, but I do not, under any circumstances, want to make Aunt Julie or my mom, look like Sara again.  I am sorry, but the school uniform and Japanese school girl thing is the first thing that pops into my mind.  That thought leads me to “Kill Bill” with that Japanese schoolgirl martial arts chick.  Okay, she was crazy and hot, but never in a million years could I imagine her as girlfriend material.  I will make my mom look like her and Aunt Julie can be O-Ren Ishii, or Lucy Liu.

Yes, it was rated R, but I watched it at John’s house and it was awesomely bloody.  My parents would never approve of it.

I focus on my mom’s disguise first and build up the image in my mind.  Long, straight black hair with bangs just above her eyes, skin tone, eyes and most importantly, the mini-skirt schoolgirl uniform.  The full body skin tone proves to be the hardest and most draining part of her disguise. A full body dragon tattoo proves to be way simpler than changing someone’s entire skin tone.

The uniform adds another layer of complexity and essence drain, but based upon Uncle Jim’s gasp and Aunt Julie’s jumping up and down with excitement that draws my eyes to her breasts, I will judge my effort a success.  

My mom looks down and notices her outfit, then pats it with confusion as her hands pass through what appears to be cloth. “You turned me into a Japanese schoolgirl?!”

My mom does not sound happy, but Aunt Julie is positively and uncharacteristically giggly about it. “Me now! Me now!”

Due to the skin tone and clothing drain from my mom’s disguise, I change my mind with Aunt Julie. I do not think I will be able to manage the O-Ren look and super complex kimo disguise.  Instead, I imagine Aunt Julie as Elle Driver, Daryl Hannah’s character with the eye patch and sexy nurse’s uniform.  Her illusion is a little easier since I do not have to change her skin tone.

Uncle Jim whistles. “Hello nurse...”

Thinking about that skin tone thing, maybe I could have made Aunt Julie look like O-Ren. Since they will not be able to take off their illusionary clothing, maybe I only needed to change her and my mom’s skin tone where it is visible.

My mom appears does not appear as enamored with my idea for her disguise. “You are in so much trouble young lady.”

I find it a little hard to take her seriously when she looks like she now does.  Her parental image is completely absent as she comes across as, well, a teenage Japanese schoolgirl. Me, finding it amusing does not help.

“With me, now!” My mom spins on her heels, causing her short pleated skirt to flash her white panties before the sudden movement causes her to wobble a little bit. Regaining her balance, she marches out of the office.

I glance helplessly at Uncle Jim because I don’t really understand why my mom is so upset, but his eyes are all on Aunt Julie. Actually, she has Uncle Jim pinned to his chair as she straddles him. She is breathing heavy and passionately kissing him while completely ignoring the fact that there is a kid in the room.  I am no expert, but I have to say that Aunt Julie is very drunk right now.

I quickly exit the office and as I close the door to give them some privacy, I sneak a glance back; Uncle Jim gives me the thumbs up signal.  I am not sure if he is thanking me for closing the door or Aunt Julie’s disguise, but maybe it is both.  Seriously, adults are not supposed to act this way. It is downright weird for them to be acting like sex starved teenagers.  At least, I can count on my mom to act normal by being mad at me for something.

I track her to her room and prepared to face her wrath, I gingerly peek in and spot her sitting at the foot of her bed, crying.  Which is very very strange when your mom does not look at all like your mom.  “Mom, what’s wrong?”

She looks up at me with her tear streaked face and she looks so adorable with her school girl hairstyle and uniform. “I’m sorry, Brianna. I’m such a bad mom. I didn’t mean to push you so hard about wearing the uniform and the skirt.”

I enter her room, close the door, sit down next to her and give her a hug. “It’s okay Mom, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I was just thinking about...some...movie...” Oops, if she has not recognized her character, then I can’t let her know that I watched an R-rated movie without her permission.

“I know, you were thinking about wearing that silly uniform and you wanted to show me what you thought about it.  Then, you made Julie look like a sexy nurse and I got mad at you. I’m so sorry!” My mom cries as she hugs me.

I was not thinking that at the time at all, but now that she mentions it; I think maybe my subconscious was thinking about it. However, I cannot take being hugged by a Japanese schoolgirl any longer and cancel her disguise.  I am not sure if that makes things any easier on me since now she is in her bikini.

My confusion about what to think lasts barely a second. Okay, 0.43 seconds. She is my mom. I always thought she was beautiful, but until all this happened and I met Sara, Fey and Aunt Julie, I never thought about it. Seeing my mom next to Aunt Julie and truly seeing her as not just my mom, but as a beautiful woman too. Well, that is kind of mind blowing.  I miss my boring and normal life.

“Mom, you should get to bed and I wasn’t mad at you, I love y-” Is all I can get out before she crushes me with a hug. I want to tell her that I only made her look like a kick ass character from a movie I watched and kind of gloss over the fact that the movie was R-rated, but I don’t.

“Oh sweetie, I’m so sor-” My mom hiccups, turns a little pale and then, bolts for the bathroom.

I add one more thing to my list of not-to-do. Drink alcohol. My parents have let me taste wine and beer before. I thought they tasted nasty, but why do adults drink if it tastes nasty and makes them barf, a lot?  I helped my mom for 20 minutes as she alternated barfing, crying and apologizing to me for being such a bad mother.  She felt like it was her fault that I got turned into a girl and then, she felt like it was her fault that she did not understand what I was going through.  Finally, she felt like it was her fault that the CIA kidnapped me because if she had been there, she would have known.

“Mom, it’s not your fault-” I say as I rub her back and help hold her hair to keep it from falling into the toilet.  I am interrupted when she barfs again.

“Thanks sweetie. Uhhh, when did I eat carrots?”

I do not want to look and the smell is kinda bad. So, I reach over and flush the toilet.  “I wish I could help you...”

>Initiating Remote Medical Diagnostic Service...

What?!

I jump back a couple of feet.

>Alert: Remote Medical Diagnostic Service halted!
>Please resume contact with patient...

I am not sure if that is a good idea, but the nanites help me. Maybe they can help my mom too. “Umm, ookkaaay...” I say as I reach for my mom.

“What was that sweetie?”

“Nothing...” I rest the palm of my hand against her back.  I immediately sense a drain of my nanites as some, a few thousand, rush out of my body and into her body via my hand.

>Remote Medical Diagnostic Service Interface...transfer complete.
>Remote Medical Diagnostic Service Interface...building...[xxx%]

Followed by a percentage complete indicator that slowly creeps from 0% toward 100%.  Is this a good idea?  I start to pull my hand away, but as I do I feel my connection to the nanites in her body began to degrade.  Okay, maybe it is safer if I maintain control until they are done and then, tell them to abort or something.  It takes an agonizing  30 seconds before the indicator reaches 100%.

>Remote Medical Diagnostic Service Interface...scanning patient...

Well, that does not sound too bad...

A small window opens up in my HUD and my mom’s medical status begins to fill into a monitor page.  Just like mine, it shows that cool EKG heart graph thing that goes ‘bing’, along with pulse rate, blood pressure, blood oxygen level, etc...more information than I know what to do with, but everything seems to be okay. I mean, no flat lines or anything bad.

>Alert!  Patient blood alcohol content = 0.12%
>Recommended treatment:
>Administer 16-20 oz fluids.
>Administer nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory.
>Administer glucose.

I guess I spoke too soon.

Oh, yeah, she is drunk, but is 0.12% bad?  Seems like a pretty low number to me, but my mom is pretty sick so maybe it is a high number?  Isn’t 0.08% considered drunk driving or something?  How can I ‘administer’ all that stuff, exactly?  Give her a glass of water and I am going to guess that second thing is aspirin and call Aunt Julie in the morning?

Oh yeah, the glucose thing. Sugar, but I doubt I can get my mom to guzzle sugar.  She always gave us crackers when we were sick, maybe those will help.  I let go of her and take a step back.

>Alert: Remote Medical Diagnostic Service Interface...Disconnected.

“I’ll be right back!” I run downstairs and raid the kitchen. Large glass of water and bag of plain crackers in hand, I rush back to my mom.  She is still on the floor, hugging the toilet and just as miserable.  Geez, I am definitely never going to drink.

“Here mom, drink this.” I help her sit up enough to drink the water and surprisingly, she gulps it down without complaint.

>Remote Medical Diagnostic Service Interface...connected!
>SCRAM halted...
>Warning: Remote Medical Diagnostic Service Interface...system at 83% efficiency.

Why is it at 83%?

>Remote Medical Diagnostic Service nanites began SCRAM instructions due to loss of C3 system.

Oh, I guess that C3 means me and I have to touch her to maintain control of the nanites.  I do not think I need to have them in her anymore and since Dr. Edmundson kind of freaked out when I leaked some blood on the ground; it would probably be safer if figure out a way to remove them from her body.

Umm, Remote thing, you can come on back to me now.

>Remote Medical Diagnostic Service Interface...Shutdown initiated.
>Remote Medical Diagnostic Service Interface...Starting nanite material retrieval...

I feel the nanites flowing back into my body through my hand. It kind of tickles, but it only takes 15 seconds to finish.

>Remote Medical Diagnostic Service Interface...Retrieval, Complete.

After that, I help her off the floor and she sits on top of the toilet cover. She also munches on the crackers, drinks a few more sips and keeps that down. So, I open the medicine cabinet and grab some ibuprofen. That is a nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory, right?

>True

Why is a simple ‘true’ not so reassuring?

>Nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs, usually abbreviated to NSAIDs–but also referred to as nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory agents/analgesics (NSAIAs) or nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory medicines (NSAIMs)–

Stop! Please. Okay, I get it...geez.

I hand my mom two ibuprofen and more water. “Here, take these...”

As she accepts them, it looks like she is going to cry again. “You’re so good to me...you shouldn’t have to be taking care of me like this...”

Yep, she starts crying again, but I manage to get her to eat more of the crackers. Actually, she eats an entire bag and drinks another full glass of water before I help her to bed.  She regains just enough strength and coordination to strip herself out of her bikini as if I am not even in the room. “Ahh, that is so much better!  Hey, you’re right; it does feel better to not wear a bra!”

Come on Mom, I know I am a girl now, but this is getting ridiculous!  I don’t say that though. Instead, I politely avert my gaze as she climbs under the covers.  

“Thanks sweetie!” She beams up at me as I help her pull the covers over herself.

This ‘sweetie’ thing has got to go.  “Umm, no problem Mom. I hope you feel better in the morning, but can you...”  I notice that her eyes are closed and she is already asleep. “...nevermind.”

I turn off the lamp next to her bed and leave the room, carefully closing the door behind me.  “Phew...” I rest my back against the door.  That was a lot of work, but I hope my mom is going to be okay.  What about Aunt Julie?  She appeared to be just as drunk as my mom.

The door to their room is closed and I don’t hear any sounds coming from it.  No sounds are good because I would not want to hear what I think they probably did down in Uncle Jim’s- Crap, I thought about it and, umm, TMI.  Just in case, I sneak over to their door and listen. All I hear are the sounds of two people breathing slowly, as if sleeping.  It sounds like Aunt Julie is snoring a little too. Well, I hope it is her because if not, Uncle Jim has a very high pitched snore.

I debate attempting to shift into thermographic and see if I can see through the door. You know, just to make sure she is okay, but that might show me more than I want to see. I am sure she is fine. She is a doctor. She has to know how to treat a hangover.

I return to my bedroom, change into my very own silk pajamas instead of the flannel pajamas Aunt Julie bought me. It takes a few minutes of tossing and turning from worrying about my mom and Aunt Julie before I manage to fall asleep.  It would be really great to sleep for a full 8 to 10 hours like I used to, but I don’t. 1.5 hours later and I am wide awake and bored.

I hear a toilet flush and immediately worry about my mom. What if she is sick and needs help? I open her door and take a peek. Nope, she is still peacefully asleep in her bed.  Once again, I hear the unmistakable sound of someone barfing and crying at the same time.  That has to be Aunt Julie.

I take a few seconds to listen at their door and the only sounds I hear are Aunt Julie repeating my mom’s earlier performance with the toilet bowl.  I decide to try and help, but I discover that their door is locked when I attempt to slowly turn the handle.

“Crap...” I mutter with defeat.  Maybe it is just stuck?  I try it again, but this time it feels like something inside the door handle moves and then, the door opens for me. I guess it was just stuck.  

I sneak a peek inside their room and Uncle Jim is cutting some serious Z’s. I doubt he is even aware that Aunt Julie is tossing her cookies in their bathroom.  I tip toe past their bed and silently make my way into their master bathroom.  Sexy nurse Aunt Julie is hugging the toilet and I find that image hard to wipe from my brain.  Harder than my bikini clad mom.

“Aunt Julie, are you okay?” I gently touch her shoulder. Dumb question, I know, but it works.  

She looks up at me her perfectly disarrayed long blond hair, dainty old fashioned nurse hat, Red Cross eyepatch, perfect makeup, but with tears slowly trailing down her face. “No...I drank waaayy too much...Oh my god!” She barfs, again.

“Umm, I’ll be right back...” I sneak back down stairs, grab some additional supplies and treat Aunt Julie the same way I treated my mom.  I find the nurse thing a bit distracting, so I cancel her disguise.  That makes things worse because she is completely naked.  

Why does this keep happening to me and why now?  Why not last week or last month when I might have found it more enjoyable.  Well, less confusing anyway.  Okay, I would probably have been even more mortified, but it would have been a gloriously epic story that I could tell my friends and be instantly popular and famous.

*sigh*

I grab her bathrobe and help her get dressed.  Well, mostly I just drape it over her body and she works out the rest, but I do have to help a little. Why can’t she have a mom bathrobe instead of this sexy mini-skirt robe?

Treatment complete, I help her back to bed and since I expect it, I manage to avert my eyes before she disrobes.  Naked, she pulls me into a loose hug and gives me a kiss on my cheek.   Seriously, why couldn’t this have happened when I was a boy?!? Oh yeah, because it would have ‘never’ happened, except in my wildest dreams.

“Thanks Chloe...” She attempts to fight off a yawn, but fails.

My Chloe name acts like a splash of cold water to bring me back down to earth.  I help tuck her safely into bed and then, I return to my room with the plan to play in my VR world until Uncle Jim wakes up.  No visits from Sara and after her mention of a mysterious ‘chat with someone’ from last night, I am a little worried about her.  

I decide to relax in my hot tub in the hopes that will lure her into making a visit, but it doesn’t. I even go topless for a few minutes before I feel silly for trying to lure Sara by flashing my breasts.  What kind of girl am I? Wow, that makes me laugh. I give up worrying about my mental problems and play in the shooting range, followed by some reading and TV in my living room.

<Friday, 23-Feb-2007 06:00:00>

I hear Uncle Jim’s alarm and I sneak down to the kitchen to get a pot of coffee going for him.  My plan is to hang out with him until he leaves, then grab  a shower before my mom or Aunt Julie wake up.  Based on their condition, I don’t expect them to be alive until at least eight or nine, maybe even later because the last time my mom drank a lot of wine with Aunt Barb, she was not up until noon.

Uncle Jim takes an appreciative sip of his coffee. “How is your mom?”

“Umm, I think she is okay. She barfed a lot, but I helped her and made her drink lots of water before she went to bed.  How is Aunt Julie?”

He winces with pain as he takes too large  a sip. “She’s out, but she will probably be very miserable this morning since she went straight to bed.”

I shake my head slowly back and forth. “Oh no, she woke up and barfed.”

“She did?” He stops mid sip.

“Yeah, it was around 0144 when heard her barfing. So, I helped her by making her drink some water and take a couple of ibuprofen like my mom.”

“I thought I locked our door?” He shrugs, looking mystified but not too worried. “Oh well...”

I decide not to mention that I thought it was locked at first too. Maybe he only half locked it?

Uncle Jim glances at his watch. “Oh, gotta go!” He says as he walks around to put his cup in the sink. “Hey, can you ask your Aunt Julie to give me a call when she finally wakes up, please?”

“Sure-” I am a little surprised when he gives me a quick hug and a kiss on my forehead.

“Thanks for the coffee!” He rushes out of the door without seeming to realize what he just did.  

Okay, I am a lot surprised. It takes hearing the garage door close to snap me out of my stupor.  Why did he do that?  Must be my glamour or he has just been thinking of me as his niece for too long.  Yeah, that is probably it. He was just playing the role as my favorite uncle.

My shower is a shower. I do not have any problems with my breasts and any other part of my anatomy from the safety and privacy of my shower stall.  With all the swimming and Jacuzzi time getting my longer hair wet, it barely even registers with me that I haven’t always had longer hair.  Since I have my suitcase, I am able to use my own shower stuff. That is a plus, but I still do not like the fact that everything smells so flowery and girlie. I know it smells nice, but why can’t they make this stuff without scents? Why does everything have to sound edible or pretty to look at?

I manage to clean my girl stuff without feeling too freaked out over it. Actually, I am almost a little ashamed to admit it, but I purposefully touch myself down there. You know, just to make sure I got everything cleaned to specification.  I don’t see stars or feel my knees get weak like girls are supposed to. Well, according to the magazines and internet stories anyway. In some ways, that is almost a letdown for me because maybe I have been making a big deal about it for no reason.

Okay, maybe not ‘no reason’, but still.  What is the big deal? So, I no longer have a penis and now I have a va-vagina. Phew! I said it!  It’s not the end of the world. I am still me and I even have cool super powers as part of the deal. Maybe, it’s not so bad being a girl, as long as I can be ‘my’ kind of girl.

I don’t have to wear dresses and like pink, right?  I can wear pants and no one will think it is strange. That is something boys can’t do. I mean, they can’t wear dresses, even if they wanted to, without people thinking they are strange.  

It feels nice just standing under the warm water as it beats down on me. Well, until it starts to turn cold, but then I crank it up for another 20 seconds before I finally get out of the shower with a sigh. I feel relaxed and I don’t even rush to cover my body.  No one can see me and the mirror is all foggy.  I decide to blow dry my hair and defog the mirror at the same time.

As I work on my hair, I sort of take in my body without focusing on the specifics and I have to agree with Sara. I do have a ‘rocking’ body. I think I am very pretty and my new hairstyle is kind of growing on me. After all, it is what I picked for Whisper in GEO because I thought it looked the best on her.  Short, but still very sexy and feminine.  Also, except for the extra steps, very easy to maintain compared with what I have seen my sister go through with her hair.

I decide to wear a bra today. It was nice to go braless, but I did not really care for all the extra ‘bounce’ in my step.  I also elect to take a huge step and put some makeup on.  Okay, not real makeup because that would be hard, but I do apply a very slight illusion to myself. Following the magazine’s advice and essentially repeating what I did in the girl’s bathroom with Amanda, I make my eyes a little darker and match the eye shadow to my top.  I also make it appear like I am wearing a slightly darker shade of red on my lips. Nothing too dark, just a few shades darker than my natural color.

After all, Chloe wears makeup all the time. What is the big deal for me to wear just a little?  That thought last all of two seconds after I check myself out in the mirror.  “Holy crap...”

With just that little touch of makeup, I am freaking hot. What in the heck am I thinking? Chloe looks very pretty with makeup and I have been her so much the last few days that I am sort of used to seeing a pretty girl in the mirror.  What I am not used to seeing is myself in the mirror and thinking I am even more beautiful than Chloe. I know my mom would feel delighted, but I don’t think I am ready for this step just yet.  I cancel the makeup effect and feel relieved to see my new real and unadorned face.

I am still very pretty and the way I absently curl my lip with frustration is kind of cute.

*sigh*

I hang out downstairs, watch real TV and read some of Aunt Julie’s medical magazines until 1027 hours when I hear a toilet flush. My system triangulates the sound as coming from my mom’s bathroom.  I decide to put a fresh pot of coffee on and grab another bottle of ibuprofen.  The coffee is almost done brewing when my mom stumbles into the kitchen like a zombie attracted to the smell of fresh brewed brains, I mean coffee.  She is wearing her full length mom bathrobe and looks a little more disheveled than normal as she takes a seat at the breakfast bar.

“Uhhhhh, my head...” She props her head up with her hands.

“The coffee is almost done, would you like an omelet with a bagel and cream cheese?”  I glance over my shoulder as I reach up to grab a coffee cup for her.

My mom glances up and her mouth opens like she wants to say something, but she is having trouble finding the words.  “What?”

I feel extremely pleased by her reaction. Her confused, ‘who are you and what have you done with my daughter’ expression is priceless. “Aunt Julie taught me how to make an omelet. Would you like one?”

“Umm, sure?” She still looks a little lost.

“Good, because I am kind of hungry too...”  I start by taking out the omelet pan and all the fixings. After that, I serve her coffee, just the way she likes it at home, cream with no sugar. She silently watches as I busy myself cooking for her.  I can tell she is impressed and more than a little surprised. After I serve up her omelet and bagel, I hear Aunt Julie’s toilet flush and I decide to get started on an omelet for her.

Aunt Julie arrives in pretty much the same condition as my mom, except she is wearing her much shorter bathrobe. I notice my mom cringe and rub her temples as Aunt Julie takes the chair next to her.  I guess with her empathy power, she is probably picking up some of what Aunt Julie is feeling.  “Thanks for making breakfast and for helping me last night Chloe, I, umm, I guess we...” She and my mom share guilty looks. “...had a bit too much fun.”

“Oh, it wasn’t a problem. I am sorry that you all feel so bad.”  I distract myself by starting on my own omelet because I am starving!  Why didn’t I make something sooner?

Aunt Julie takes a bite from her omelet. “Mmmm, good. Well, I think I would be even worse if it had not been for your help and making me drink all that water.  How did you know to do that?”

“Oh, I just looked it up...” I try to concentrate on flipping my omelet while hoping my mom is still too sick to really focus her Jedi mind trick powers on me.  “Oh yeah, and Aunt Julie, Uncle Jim wants you to give him a call.”

After reassuring Uncle Jim that she is okay, Aunt Julie and my mom take the rest of the morning pretty slowly.  Aunt Julie prescribes them each some ibuprofen along with plenty of fluids and by noon, they are both finally able to start moving.  Aunt Julie leaves right after lunch to check on her patients and ‘pick up a few things’.  How much do you want to bet she is going to buy me a few more outfits or something?

My mom and I spend the rest of the afternoon doing some laundry and cleaning the house for Uncle Jim and Aunt Julie.  It is kind of boring, but it beats sitting around and doing nothing.  I already knew how to do my own laundry, but I did not know how to properly wash all the new ‘delicates’ that I own.  What a pain.  Whites and Colors, those should be the only two options.  Whites, Brights, Colors, Darks, Delicates, and Hand wash and dry clean only are just too many things to worry about in the quest for clean clothes.

Mr. Reilly, along with Dr. Edmundson and Captain Howards, calls at 1300 hrs and gives us an update on the investigation.  They found a backdoor tap on Aladdin's super duper auto-magical test machine that sent results to the CIA.  Well, it was more of an on purpose backdoor since the CIA originally funded the development of the device. It just got overlooked when the project was transferred to the DOD.  That is the claim, but I can tell Mr. Reilly does not really buy it.  

Mr. Reilly also tells us about the forcibly retired CIA dude committing suicide.  Suicide, really? I was a little skeptical, but Mr. Reilly claimed they found a note and then, immediately classified it so high that not even he could read it. The President was only able to tell Mr. Reilly that the dude was sorry for ordering my kidnapping and for something else that was very very bad.

I purposely forget to mention the little trick with my nanites. Mostly because I do not want to worry my mom or give them an excuse for me to return for more testing.  I just want to get to that Whateley place and stop having people trying to mess with me.  I do let Mr. Reilly know about the plans for tonight and after consulting with Captain Howards, they give me the all clear.  Captain Howards hints that he may have a few of his men in the area, just in case.  It is just dinner and a movie, what could go wrong?

Okay, jinx question, knock on wood and all that, but it should be pretty safe. We are planning on eating at an Italian restaurant, so maybe the mafia could bust in with some dude wearing cheesy suits, gold chains and machines guns yelling, “Say hello to my little friend!” as they shoot up the joint, but I figure the odds of that are pretty low.  This isn’t New York City or the movies.

For tomorrow, the plan is for Uncle Jim and Aunt Julie to drop me, as Chloe, and my mom off at Norfolk International at 0730. It fits with my disguise, but I am not sure what their plan for my mom is.  I could make my mom look like Aunt Julie and then, we could do the old switch-a-roo in the bathroom, but I am sure Mr. Reilly would not approve of me using my magic, if he knew.

Anyway, they didn’t ask me for my opinion on the plan. So, after we are dropped off, we will make our way to the baggage claim area and one of Captain Howard’s men and Airman Jessica pretending to be his girlfriend/wife, will meet and take us to Langley for my dropship ride.

My ride is confirmed for 0900, Saturday the 24th on board one of the Air Force’s new CS-5 sub-orbital heavy lift vehicles. My ETA at Whateley will be 0934. A very, very short flight, or hop as the pilots like to call them. The military likes to call them SHLV’s, but everyone else calls them ‘dropships’.  They don’t really ‘drop’. It is more like a controlled fall, but it was an idea they stole from some futuristic giant robot fighting game and the grunts decided to call them that.  Vomit Comets has also been used to describe them, but never ever where an officer can overhear you say that. Yes, I did a lot of research on them once it was confirmed and I cannot wait!

The official reason for the flight is to deliver some additional ‘training’ materials to the Academy for the JROTC program. The thing can easily haul four M1A2 Abram tanks with some room left over. So, I am not sure what kind of ‘training’ materials would need a dropship or why a school might need said ‘training’ materials, but I am not going to complain.
 

**

“Hey boss?” MCO Agent Roberts poked his head into Special Agent Lainer’s door.

Lainer looked up from his slowly decreasing stack of overdue paperwork.  One more burden caused by that f’ing ghost mutant. “Yeah?”

“I found something that you might find interesting...might be another lead on that Whisper mutant.”

Lainer sighed and sat back in his chair.  “Do I really want to know?”

“Maybe, maybe not, but the Air Force just scheduled a flight to that Whateley place tomorrow morning for one of their new CS-5 dropship things.  They are flying out of Langley...”

Lainer sat back up and glanced over at the still mostly empty folder labeled “Whisper”. “That is one hell of a coincidence...Any cargo listings?”

“Nothing specific. Even our sources can’t get that from the military.”

“But, they have to have something, right?  They would not waste a CS-5 just to carry a single mutant...”

Roberts shrugged his shoulders and grinned. “Well, this is the U.S. Government, but they do have a cargo euphemistically labeled as ‘training materials’.”

“Is that Nicholas Reilly bastard still at Langley?”

“Yes sir, but his pilot filed a flight plan that included three unnamed passengers for a flight from Langley to Los Alamos, New Mexico this evening.”

“Any guesses on who those three might be?”

Roberts absently ran his fingers through his hair as he thought it over. “Well, probably Dr. Edmundson, maybe Mr. Reilly himself, but it could also be our target and someone else.  There was an older woman listed in the original police reports for the H1 inci-”

Roberts jumped when his boss slammed his fist down on his desk with frustration.  “Damn it! I just know something is going on, but we don’t have the resources anymore.”  Lainer sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as he thought it over. “Okay, it can’t hurt. Dispatch a pair of field agents to the airfield in New Mexico.  Have them observe who gets off the plane there.  If the damn thing even arrives. Hell, it might be another red herring...”

“Yes, sir. What about the dropship?”

“I am not sure...” Lainer absently drummed his fingers on his desk for a few seconds before abruptly stopping. “Okay, I will make a few calls and see if we can task a MCO recon ship to shadow the Air Force’s dropship. Since the air space around Whateley isn’t as protected as Langley, maybe get some spy shots of this Whisper when she exits the ship.” He reached for his phone, but paused before dialing. “Oh yeah, see if you can get a hold of the new enrollments list. There has to be some official MCO reason we can use to leverage a copy of that list from their administration. Besides, the list should be pretty small this late in the school year, right?”

Roberts shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. “Yes sir, anything else?”

Lainer glanced over at his soon to be even larger stack of paperwork and sighed. “Yeah, can ya get me another cup of coffee?”
 

**

I was right about Aunt Julie picking up some more clothes for me.  She returned with not one, not two, but three new outfits for me and by outfits, I mean skirts. One white pencil skirt, a black top and black three inch heels. A short black skirt with a long, black lacy over skirt thing that stopped at my ankles with a pair of mid-calf black leather boots, no heel. The final skirt was a kinda weird, but kinda cool, jade green longer in the back than in the front thing, asymmetric A-line skirt is what Aunt Julie called it.  She got me another pair of shoes to go with it. Some strappy black open toed one inch platforms with additional two inch heel things.  Seriously, no wonder why girls have so many freaking shoes if they have to have one pair for each outfit!

Both my mom and I protested, but it did no good. Well, I was sincere with my protest, but I could tell my mom was tickled pink.  Especially when she had me model each outfit.  I hate to admit it, but I kind of liked the black lace skirt thing. By kind of liked, I mean I disliked it less than the other two skirts because I am pretty sure if I saw a chick wearing it; I would think she was pretty bad ass. That did not stop Jedi Mom-Ka-Nobi from ‘recommending’ that I wear the black skirt for our evening out. “No sense in getting the skirt you plan on wearing tomorrow, dirty.” was her rationale.

I tried to argue that I could just wear my jeans and create an illusion to make it look like I was wearing the skirt. That did not work.  I also tried to claim I could not fight with the long lacy skirt part hanging down to my ankles.  Any guesses on how that statement was received?  Beeeemmmp!  Wrong answer Brianna Nicole Peters because ‘you’ are not going to get into a fight. I debated for, like half a second, reminding her about the H1 attack, but I knew it was a lost cause. My mom had ‘that’ look in her eyes. You know, the one your mom gave you that worked like a rattle snake’s warning rattle.  Keep it up and I bite you!  Yeah, that one.

Chloe, wearing the skirt got a lot of second, third and fourth glances by the boys.  She also earned a few mean glares from a girl or two, but it was not my fault, so they can all go to heck!  Chloe looked hot, but she always looks hot. So, it is not my fault.

Oh yeah, my mom was disguised as my mom. Confused yet? She was disguised to resemble Aunt Julie’s sister-in-law, Karen.  Who is supposed to be my mom, but not, because I am not really Chloe Stiles.  I am not sure how Chloe’s mom made it down to Virginia, but we couldn’t have my mom go out as herself since the MCO might recognize her from the H1 attack.

I guess we could have asked my mom to stay at home, but that was never really considered as an option.  All it took to disguise my mom was a current picture of Karen and a few minor illusion tweaks later, my mom was a dead ringer for Karen, Chloe’s mom. I found that a little spooky, but my mom found it downright creepy to look in the mirror and see someone else’s face.  I did not think it was that big  a deal, but I guess I am getting used to not being myself because I have not been myself for almost a week now.

Dinner was good, but having David, our waiter, flirt with me was a bit hard to get used to.  Yes, he was definitely flirting and even clueless me could tell.  Especially when my mom and Aunt Julie decided to help encourage the poor guy by shifting the conversation to my ‘recent’ breakup with my boyfriend back home when he returned with our appetizers.  I guess it worked out in the end because he ‘forgot’ to put my appetizer on the bill while at the same time he remembered to put his phone number on the receipt. “Just in case we have a problem with the bill...”

The movie was kind of good with the back yard inventor triumphing over big government and big business to prove them all wrong. Uncle Jim and I came out of our movie with smiles on our faces and feeling uplifted. My mom and Aunt Julie emerged from their movie with puffy eyes. They claimed that they loved their movie and wished we had watched it with them, but I do not think you should exit a movie crying and claim you ‘loved’ it.  

No one tried to attack me or rob Uncle Jim. No Batman origin scenarios for me to worry about.  We had a nice night out and except for the dude flirting with me, it was almost relaxing.  Not even running to the bathroom after the show was a stressor because there weren’t that many women in our show.  We had to wait an extra ten minutes for my mom and Aunt Julie to make it through the women’s pee-pee dance line and out of the bathroom when their show ended. As a result, I felt normal for the first time since I changed.  Well, almost normal. Okay, more normal than usual.  

Since my mom and I are supposed to meet someone from Captain Howard’s team at the real airport tomorrow at 0730, we needed to get up at zero dark thirty, or 0500, to get ready so we can leave at 0700 hours.  I tried to tell my mom I only needed 30 minutes, from start to finish, to be ready, but my naive time management experience was overruled by my mom.  I do not know why I protested the 5am time, probably habit. Heck, I am going to be awake long before that time anyway.  

We get to bed a little late at 2310, or 11pm for you civvy types and ‘ding!’ I am wide awake almost exactly 1.5 hours later.  Okay, 1.5223 hours later.  Why can I only sleep for 90 minutes and why is it consistently 90 minutes?  Well, except for that one time when I managed to sleep for two hours the first night home.

>Searching....
>2,160,000 results found!  Display Y/n?

Umm, no thanks and holy crap that is a lot of results.

Okay, it is now 0043 hours and it is probably a tad too early to start getting ready. I guess I could take my shower and get that out of the way, but first, I will hop into my VR world for an hour or two. Maybe Sara will show up.

I suit up in my black vampire hunting tactical suit. It is not a cat suit, no matter what Sara might call it.  Once I am satisfied with how I look, I decide to play with the Barrett again, but with a sniper scenario.  It is not a lot of fun using that monster in a tiny range when it was meant to be used for super long range stuff.  I start out with a very realistic, shoot the bad terrorist’s head off scenario, but I can’t do it.  The bad guys are too realistic and I have zero interest in watching someone’s head explode like a watermelon hit by a sledge hammer.  When did I turn into such a wuss?  John and I played these kinds of scenarios on his PS3 all the bleeping time, but, while the graphics are good on the PS3; they are not ‘real’ good like my VR sim.

I think seeing a real person get shot has kind of changed my perspective on a few things. So, I change the bad guys to general, all purpose super-villain robots.  My first few attempts only cause the robot to miss a step when my round bounces off it, leaving a good dent. It takes a few shots to find a weak spot, but that also allows the bad guy bots to figure out my location.  Their sniper counter fire is downright depressing.  I get deaded a couple of times until I figure out I should shoot once and move because two or more shots allows them to triangulate on my position. Once they have my position down, lots of artillery falls from the sky and ruins my day.  I guess the enemy hates snipers or something.

Crap! How can I kill them if my rounds won’t penetrate their armor?

>Recommend Mk-211 AP

Wow, it is both armor piercing and incendiary. How cool is that? Okay, I guess I can try that.

OMG! Fun!

One shot and the robot’s head blows up with a shower of flame and sparks, but it doesn’t kill them.  Apparently, the model I used has their brains in their highly armored chest. Of which, the new AP round slices through like a hot knife through butter.  Which, sounds like a good analogy, but how do you get the butter to your toast with the same hot knife? Don’t answer that, it is a trick question.

I quickly discover that terminating the leader bot is way more effective for causing confusion with the enemy than it is to terminate a general purpose soldier bot. I guess I should have known that already, but I was more of a spy in GEO than an assassin.

I also discover that while my all black tac-suit is good for sneaking, adapting my suit to match the terrain is even better.  Just like in GEO, I can chameleon my suit to blend into the background and as long as I am not moving; it is almost as good as being invisible.  My Whisper face mask set to match my suit adds even more to my concealment factor.

Hmmm, I will have to look into duplicating this effect with my magic.  It could come in handy.

I feel rather pleased with myself for sneaking in and getting a shot on a robot with stars on its shoulders.  Especially when it blows up with a spectacular display of fire and sparks as its arms and legs blow out of its torso from the incendiary part of my rounds.  I do not wait to see what else happens as I turn around to un-ass the AO and spot someone standing behind me.

“Ahhh!” I fall backwards and onto my butt as I reflexively raise the Barrett’s barrel to aim my weapon at the woman’s chest.  I do not get very far before I realize it is Sara.  How does she keep sneaking up on me? “Sara! Stop doing that to me!”