Toronto Sick Children's Hospital,
June 5, 2007

A groan ripped through my throat. A drum beat incessantly within me. Something rushed through my body, surging and pulsing, roaring in my ears. Bugs and pins covered my body poking me, making me itch and my skin crawl. Every breath brought pain into the core of my being. Even with my eyes closed the bright lights made them water and burn. My body growled, I felt hollow and something in me twisted itself into a knot. A door opened, the creaking of the hinge was like nails on a chalkboard.

“Doctor what's wrong with Sam?” someone screamed in my ear.

A dragon roared, my eardrums should have shattered bringing me some peace, but my ears kept working perfectly. “We don't know. The fact that he is conscious is a miracle, yet whatever happened to revive him has somehow left him hypersensitive to stimulus. The medication we've given him has had no affect, so we're about to treat him like a burn victim and apply special bandages which should help relieve at least some of the sensations.”

There was a booming sound coming closer. I shivered and moaned, trying to speak, wanting to tell the monster to go away. I couldn't figure out how to work my throat, my tongue flopped around, my lips got covered in spit and something wet left a sticky trail from my mouth to my jaw. A rough, damp towel dabbed it away. It felt like something was ripping the skin from my face.

The booming stopped. The blanket was pulled off of me, my body began to shiver in the cool air. Hands lifted my legs, it hurt, it hurt so much, each finger felt like a steel bar beating against me. Damp soft cloth wrapped around me. It was only a little itchy, I groaned in relief. Slowly drawing out the torture, they wrapped my body in the miracle cloth. Cutting off the overwhelming sensations, giving me some peace.

When my body was completely covered, and they dimmed the lights, I managed to smile.

“Did you see that? He smiled!” a woman shrieked.

I moaned trying to lift my arms so I could cover my ears.

“Please keep your voice down,” a man said in a voice that was almost at a proper volume. “Lets go outside and let him rest, I'll explain everything I can in my office.”

There was more booming, but it was going away from me. There was another nail on chalkboard sound, and then it was quiet except for the ocean like, jumbled noise of the hospital. Without the constant agony I was able to think somewhat clearly. I could deal with the tickling and itchiness, Master enjoyed teasing me, with the right mindset it could even be pleasurable.

My program was bunched up in the monitoring systems they'd implanted into the body. Only a tiny portion of me was actually in the body's nervous system. The overwhelming data had stalled my plans significantly.

Tentatively I grabbed control of more nerves and functions. My codes sabotaged the electrical signals, forcing the brain to rewire itself, writing my program directly into the brain. Unnecessary memories, thoughts and functions were erased to make room for me. Accidents, embarrassing moments, books, tv shows and games, useless data that was better off deleted. It had taken a month of ransacking secure data files of dozens of neurosurgeons and researchers to develop a program that wouldn't simply burn out the brain.

It took over forty eight hours, and the entire time a portion of my concentration had to make sure the monitors didn't notice anything. I hoped my Master wouldn't see me while I did it. I was concentrating so hard on the process I couldn't make myself a digital stick figure if my life depended on it. Even with all of the care taken, things were lost unintentionally. A party last year where the body got its first kiss, a favourite song, how to ride a skateboard, other similar types of memories, nothing important.

**

Toronto Sick Children's Hospital,
June 8th, 2007

Finally I controlled the body. It was my wetsuit, and I could make it do anything I wanted. The very first thing was reducing the nerve signals to a more bearable level. It would affect my reaction time somewhat, but with practice I could return the signal volume to the standard amount, until I was more accustomed to all the noise biologicals suffered from, it was better to keep distractions to a minimum.

The irritations died away. Tears erupted as I felt relief for the first time in three days.

I hadn't realized how strongly I'd been resisting the sensations until they were gone. I began to laugh, it hurt my lungs and throat, after the months of not barely being used, but the minor pain was nothing compared to the feeling of peace. I had succeeded on the first part of my plan, I had a body, I could control it, I could go anywhere and do anything.

The woman who I thought was the body's mother rushed in. “Sam! You're laughing! Are you ok now? Please talk to me!”

I tried to hug the woman, but the body was emaciated and the hands barely moved. She seemed to realize what I wanted and reached down to hug me gently. Happiness overwhelmed me. She wasn't the Master, but after months of having no one to talk to or touch, the sensation of being loved was precious beyond belief. Tears of joy fell from my eyes.

“Sam, I missed you so much. You're father is here, he flew up from Florida and he's waiting outside.”

The words barely made sense through her tears, but I was stunned. I knew the body had a name, but since I was the body, I had a name as well. The Master had never given me a permanent name, usually just a description or some throw away name like Tansy, Fey or Poise, to be used during a single play session and then forgotten. But now I, a simple program, had a name.

I was Sam Junior, fourteen years old, and through a miracle I was alive.

Pushing adrenaline through my body I forced my bony arms to embrace Sam's, my, mother.

**

Toronto Sick Children's Hospital,
June 12, 2007

“Sam don't eat so fast! You're going to choke,” Mom said, watching me shovel the porridge and raisins down my throat.

I couldn't use a knife and fork yet, trying to control a body was harder than I thought it would be. But the doctors were amazed at my remarkable recovery. It had been a simple matter to create the hormones and chemicals to promote muscle and bone growth. I still couldn't walk, the muscles had atrophied too far, and without mutant powers nothing was going to make them come back overnight. But simple exercises, and feeding myself was possible. At least I could talk, a little.

“I... am... 'ungry,” I said slowly and carefully, trying to enunciate each word. Letting the memories of speaking take over, rather than forcing myself to learn it all at once. It was comparable to typing by hunting and pecking. “'ore... pl'ease.”

Mom allowed herself to smile and wiped away some porridge that was dripping from my chin. Dad walked out of the room to get some more from the cafeteria. “You're doing amazing, Sam. We're so proud of how much you've done since you woke up,” she gushed as tears fell down her thin and weary face. From the memories I had of her, she had lost an estimated twenty kilograms over the seven months of Sam being in a coma. Dad on the other hand had gained fifteen kilos.

“Thank... you... Mom.” I said smiling, making sure to make my eyes nice and big for her to see.

“Honey? What happened to your eyes?” she asked, leaning in to stare at me.

I pretended to have no idea what she was talking about. “Wha'?”

“You're eyes, they've changed. They're like cat eyes!”

I'd chosen cat eyes for the ability to see in low light conditions and with contacts they were easy to hide. Also if I was going to Whateley people had to think I was a mutant. Since the most common sign of mutation was a change in the eyes, it had just taken some special changes in the cellular structure, a release of chemicals to stimulate cell growth, and a few days of irritated eyes. Things were still blurry, but I estimated that in one week I'd have perfect vision in bright and low light conditions. “I... don'... un'erstan',” I lied.

She hugged me kissing my cheek, “Don't worry, honey. I'll go get the doctor.”

Watching her run out of the room I couldn't resist smiling. Sam's memories showed that his parents weren't anti-mutant to any great extent, but there was a risk they could panic. I had a plan B if that happened, but it would have added risks I was happy to avoid. Even with the primitive biological tools I was forced to use, from the pupil dilation, tone of voice, and her skin temperature, it seemed she was more concerned then scared.

Dad walked in carrying another bowl of porridge and a big glass of juice. “Where's your Mom?”

“'oing... see... the... doctor. My... eyes... chan'ed.”

He leaned in to look at my blue cat eyes. “Damn, when did that happen?”

My jaw was tired from eating and talking, so I just shrugged before taking up my spoon again. He smiled happily taking something that hung from a hook beside the bed. “I guess this thing really did bring me some good luck.”

I looked curiously at the round yellow object that looked a little like a coin with a hole in the middle hanging by a cheap string from his hand.

“Some old woman I was driving around in my cab, listened while I told her about you. She gave it to me and said it would bring good luck. Seems she was right,” he said wiping away a tear.

“Pretty.” He put it in my outstretched hand, and with some difficulty I put it around my neck. I knew as a boy I couldn't wear much jewelry even though I really wanted to make myself look all pretty, but something like this would be ok.

Thinking about not being able to wear jewelry or makeup brought me down a little. Where was the fun if I couldn't dress up? But needs must, I told myself. This was just a temporary body until I found Master and could go back to being a pretty girl all the time, without having to worry about sleeping, or pooping, or trying to be all macho, not that I could ever be more macho than Master. I'd given up my beauty to save Master, he would know just how much I loved him and how far I'd go to help him. And once I rescued him I could go back to the nice safe computer and be as beautiful as he wanted again.

Mom came back with Dr. Chang. “Hello Sam. I see you're appetite is still increasing.”

I pushed the bowl of porridge away while nodding happily. My stomach was already digesting the food much more efficiently than it would have before the changes, at least fifty percent more efficient than most baseline humans. Of course I wouldn't have to worry about it becoming fat, I'd altered the ratio of fat and muscles of my cells to create muscle rather than fat, by the time I left the hospital I planned to have only 6% of my mass made up of fat, which was just above the minimum healthy amount for males. I didn't know what I'd need to do to free Master, but being fat certainly wasn't one of them.

“Let me get a look at your eyes, and see what's going on,” he said.

My pupils contracted to a slit under the light. “What's... wrong?”

“I'm not sure Sam. I have some ideas, but I want to bring a specialist in to make sure. Don't worry though, you are perfectly healthy and recovering miraculously well,” he reassured me and Dad.

“'octor... I... can... do... this... to,” I said, making the monitors still hooked into the USB port behind my ear blink and hum. Alarms sounded, and a nurse ran into the room.

“Sam, stop that! You could hurt yourself!”

I stopped it at once, letting a confused looked show on my face. “Am... I... a... mutant?”

“I believe you are,” he said going over the equipment to make sure nothing had been damaged. “But don't try anything like that again until you're healthier. You don't want to hurt yourself again do you?”

“Sorry... 'octor.”

I went back to eating my porridge, while the doctor and my parents talked in the hallway.

**

Toronto Sick Children's Hospital,
June 15, 2007

I walked through the digital heart of the hospital, dressed in a sexy nurses outfit. My skin shouted the proper codes so doors slid open for me, and the security programs stepped out of my way without a second glance. It was so easy slipping through the cracks, the passwords had only taken twenty minutes to bypass . I was actually worried that someone who might actually hurt a person could get through just as easily. Maybe I could slip them a hint before I left that they needed to upgrade their security.

Reaching the server where patient data was stored, I placed my hand on the wrinkled face of the record keeper who sat behind a large imposing desk wearing a dark black suit. It barely reacted as my code worked its way into its programming. In seconds I had control of the files. “Files for Callahan, Samuel Roberts, Junior, rewrite,” I ordered.

A thin file folder appeared on the desk.

Opening it to a file listed as blood work, I read over what the lab techs had discovered. As I feared, Sam had no mutant gene in him. That could cause problems. I took a moment to change it to active mutant gene detected, using some files I'd saved from various test results I'd read about during my planning stage to make it look authentic.

Placing everything in the file, I saved it and handed it back to the record keeper. “Put it back.” As soon as it disappeared, I put my hand on his head again. “Delete all information that shows I was here, or the file was used in the last minute.”

I felt the old program doing its job, as soon as I was certain it was done I removed my code from it and left without a word.

**

Toronto Sick Children's Hospital
June 16th, 2007

Who knew that walking would be so hard?

I stumbled again, only the fact that I had a death grip on the walker kept me from hitting the ground. At least my muscles were building up quickly. So quickly in fact I was starting my second stage of modifications two weeks ahead of schedule. New veins were already growing along my torso, groin and upper thighs to feed the planned sub-dermis mix of extra dense muscle and cartilage armour. It wouldn't diminish my flexibility to a great degree, and I would be significantly protected from blunt damage. Getting stabbed or shot would still be very dangerous, but even then I'd be more likely to survive.

My nails were also growing quickly with a stronger, more bonelike structure. I didn't want noticeable claws, but by letting them grow a little longer than normal for males and carefully filing the tips they could be useful as a last ditch close in defense.

The vocal cords were a problem. They'd removed the tracheotomy tube in my throat that kept the body breathing for so long after I started to fix myself. But the healing had caused damage when the tube was crushed and rubbed against the muscles. I could fix it as good as new, but I was trying to decide what I wanted to sound like. Did I want a deep, gruff voice to be intimidating, or a lighter tone that I would want to listen to?

I hadn't realized I'd be this uncertain about it, but now that it was my body, I wanted it to be good. So I was forcing myself to change my plans on the fly and trying to design changeable vocal cords. Simply twitch a muscle to make myself sound totally different. If I'd had the strength I would have face palmed myself for not thinking of it before. Being able to sound like anyone would be a significant advantage in my attempt to free Master. The problem was building the stupid thing, it wasn't simply a matter of tweaking somethings, or building a new slab of meat, it was intricate work, and I only had my own cells to work with. The design was being created in a special program I'd created and inserted in a seldom used backup server of the hospital, and I was getting impatient waiting for the final version.

Still I was making progress. Even as I struggled to walk three meters down the hallway, coordinating muscles, tendons and bones that I hadn't had twelve days before. It was much easier being in a computer, everything was already mapped out for you there, and if something went wrong I could write a new code.

But it was for Master, I had to do whatever it took to save him.

As the nurse walked beside me, encouraging me to keep going, I painfully and slowly moved the walker a few centimeters and slid my feet forward. Another few centimeters closer to Master.

**

The nurse helped me get back into bed. Actually she, practically lifted me into bed, my legs were so weak after shuffling along the hallway, I could barely move them.

As she tidied up the blankets around me, I decided it was time to practice my socialization skills. I wasn't sure how to act as a boy, admittedly I had very little idea how to act as a girl either. Working up my courage I reached up to give the nurses breast a squeeze. “Hey baby!” I said, smiling as Master used to smile at me.

My hand didn't come anywhere close to her large breasts. With a speed I couldn't come anywhere close to matching she caught me by the wrist, stopping my hand well away from her ample bosoms. The look of anger on her face was enough to let me know I'd really messed up. “Don't ever try that again,” she warned me in a voice harsh enough to turn my pale skin almost bone white.

“Sorry!” I squeaked.

She wasn't mollified. “I'm going to be telling your parents about this behaviour.”

I was too embarrassed to say anything, and was grateful when she finally left after finishing tucking me in and checking a few things. What exactly had I done wrong? Master treated me like that all the time, and I liked it. Being touched was fun, especially on the breasts, and ass, and pussy. Maybe she was sick?

Thinking about those things I noticed my body was reacting in ways I hadn't expected. The dick which I was still getting used to started to tingle. Without my conscious effort, it started to rise up, enlarging. Looking at it, my eyes went as wide as saucers seeing it rise up in the blankets like a sea monster or a volcano. Pushing the blanket out of the way my eyes somehow got even bigger, I'd seen penises many, many times, but this was the first time I'd actually seen it on me.

It wasn't as good as Masters, but I didn't think it was too bad. My programming had a simple way of dealing with dicks, when I saw one that was hard, unless told otherwise I touched it. Biting my lip I tried to reconcile that programming feature, with the knowledge that it was me. Did I still have to touch it all the time, if it was mine? That would be very inconvenient, being able to use two hands was essential if I was going to free Master.

Well actually once I thought about it I realized that after I pleased Master, I didn't have to touch him there until he became hard again. I simply had to pleasure myself, and then I could go about my business. It shouldn't be a serious problem. Master was exceptional, but we usually stopped playing after two or three times.

Smiling at my logic, I put my skills to work on myself.

It was interesting, not as fun as when Master told me to pleasure myself as a woman, but quite enjoyable. I started to moan as the pressure built up.

“Oh God!” my Mom said from the doorway.

“Just a minute, Mom,” I said to her back. My hand picked up the pace, so I could finish and focus more attention on her.

With a gasp I let loose, feeling fairly relaxed and satisfied with the results. I wasn't as relaxed as I usually was, but at least I'd be able to do something other then take a nap afterwards. “Can you give me a tissue, please?” I asked.

There was no answer, looking up I realized the door was closed and my mom had disappeared.

“Did I do something wrong?” I asked the empty room, wondering how I was suppose to clean myself up.

**

Mom sat on the edge of my bed, looking very embarrassed. I heard her mutter something about Dad, under her breath. He'd had to head back to his home a few days before to get back to work, so it was just Mom, me and the hospital staff.

“Sam, the nurse told me what you tried to do.” She blushed a brilliant red. “And then when I saw you, well... masturbating.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Yes! You can't just grab a woman like that,” she said, startled and shocked at my question. “It's not right, it's assault. You could be arrested.”

I was really confused. “Why? I thought that it was fun and felt good.”

“It's... well...” Mom seemed to be at a loss for words. She took a deep breath and visibly rallied herself. “If you're with a girl who likes you and is READY for it, it can be good. But doing that to a woman or girl who isn't special and agrees to it, is very, very wrong. And I never want you to do it again. Is that clear.”

It wasn't that clear, but I thought I had the ground rules at least, I could figure out the why later. “Ok. I won't do it except to my girlfriend.”

“If she agree's to it,” she stressed. “And not until you're older.”

I nodded.

The blush came back to her cheeks. “Now when I walked in and you were...”

“Masturbating. Do you have some advice on that? I think I did a good job.”

Mom put her head in her hands for several minutes. I was almost ready to call the doctor before she looked at me with concern. “M- masturbating is ok, but you don't do it where people can see you doing it. It's a private thing.”

Master had had me masturbate him wherever we were, and even if it was just a computer program, I'd been there so it wasn't exactly private. “But don't two people who like each other masturbate together?”

I was starting to think that Mom was breaking a world record for blushing. “When you're older. Much older. With a girlfriend who agrees to it. And you don't do it where people could walk in and see you doing it. Lock the door, and clean up afterwards, and wash your hands.”

“So masturbating is ok if I'm alone or with a person I care about?”

“Yes.”

“Ok,” I said gratefully. That definitely made things easier, I wouldn't have to worry about easing the burden in the middle of class then. That would be inconvenient, and messy.

“Do you have any questions, or want to talk about this some more?”

“No thanks. I understand. But,” I looked at my hands, “can you help me get to the bathroom? I need to wash my hands.”

**

When the lights were out for the night, I went into the computer that monitored my brainwaves at night. They'd wanted to take it away, but I'd written several letters acting as if I was the research company, informing the doctors that getting more information of a manifesting mutants brainwaves could be useful. I couldn't use it during the day, but the night was my time to research things.

That night, I wasn't doing anything directly focused on the plan,instead I was investigating relationships. I already had a list of websites to check out, Master would sometimes take me on dates to watch videos and other things and sometimes join in on the fun once he got excited enough. Once I discovered I was a computer program, those date nights became even more special for me, since he had treated me like a real girlfriend and not simply a toy.

I wanted Master back so badly it hurt.

The first website was something called Hentai Theatre. I focused on the modern day videos, watching how the characters interacted. It was... confusing. Many of the characters weren't dating until after they had sex, men and women had sex with whoever they wanted, often with the other person asking them to stop until well into the act when they began to enjoy it. And several of the characters seemed to be only a little older than I was.

Could Mom be wrong?

Maybe the confusion was with the culture. My body's memories showed me that Hentai came from Japan, and I was in North America. I went to a video site for North American videos.

It was harder to find videos that explained why the characters were having sex, but there were some. They seemed to follow Mom's logic a little more closely. Two or more people who were friends would talk, then kiss, then have sex. Although it got confusing the more I watched. Sometimes a man would come to a womans door and she wouldn't have money to pay for something and they'd start having sex. Or family members would have sex, although in these cases the age difference between mother and son or father and daughter seemed to be so little, it brought new meaning to the words teen parents.

I couldn't comprehend the rules for sex. What Master and I had done, and what I saw in some but not all of the videos fit one thing. However, from the reactions of the nurse and Mom, and a few of the videos Master and I were wrong.

But how could Master be wrong?

Master was perfect. He'd made me, and I was very good, better than any other program in the world according to my own research.

Master couldn't be wrong.

I thought over everything I had learned. Mom had said I could only act like Master when I had a girlfriend. The nurse had gotten angry when I tried to treat her as a girlfriend.

Logically then, I had been in the wrong because I had not been a boyfriend to the nurse. If I was her boyfriend then I could have played with her breasts and had sex with her. So until I had a girlfriend, I couldn't kiss or have sex.

I did a little dance at figuring out that complicated logic problem. Best of all it meant that I was Masters girlfriend, since he had sex with me. He must be so sad, I thought. Not only was he a prisoner of the evil Whateley school, but he wasn't with his girlfriend and he couldn't have sex, or kiss, or play, or anything.

With a new resolve I exited the computer. I had to redouble my efforts to fix my body and free my Master.