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

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Chapter Six: A new day, a new life

The next morning, I woke up refreshed. There was a tangle of blond and black hair in my face. I was spooned up to the cutest little kitty girl, and my arm was around her. I lightly stroked her soft skin, and she started purring. Life is good.

I slipped away and showered. I used some of that gentle shampoo that the person at Fur and Feathers recommended, then followed it with conditioner. I had never used conditioner before in my life.

The person at Fur and Feathers also sold us a special shampoo that's designed for people with fur. I jokingly referred to it as flea shampoo. I used it on my tail.

Sara came in when I was in the middle of my shower. We soaped each other and scrubbed each other's backs. When we were done, she gave me some pointers on the care of long hair. We both found out the hard way that a shower head will squirt water straight down into our kitty ears.

Since we were taking the kids to school, and wanted to talk to a couple of the teachers, we dressed appropriately. Actually, we dressed a bit on the conservative side to differentiate ourselves from the students. We also packed a bag with workout clothes and a suit so that we could work out at the college gym before we taught class.

By the time we got downstairs, Larry had breakfast ready. "You girls take way too long to get ready," he smirked.

"You're just jealous," I said.

Soon, Cindy was heading down the stairs carrying a gym bag. "I hope you cooked enough to feed us high metabolism people."

"A pound of bacon, a pound of sausage, a dozen eggs, and a whole bunch of pancakes. Enough for you, sis?"

we all dug in with gusto, complimenting the cook.

"What I want to know," I commented, "is how we managed to make such short work of those ruffians -- not that I'm complaining."

"I think it has something to do with that martial arts training you foisted upon all of us," observed Sara.

"A high strength to weight ratio, combined with feline grace and coordination has a lot to do with it, too," said Larry.

"Not to mention these," Cindy said as she held up her hand and extended her claws.

"Speaking of feline grace and coordination," I said, "how did you guys come out in your physical testing?"

"We're both in the advanced gym class now," Cindy said with pride. "When are you going to get tested?"

"That's a good question," Sara mused. "All of the college students who morph end up going to the local high school. I guess we'll have to do that, too."

With that, she pulled out her eCom and called the school. After a short conversation, she looked at me and said, "We're to show up at the advanced gym with the kids.

So, carrying our gym bags, we four kitty people got into the car and headed for school.

We dropped the kids off and went into the administration office. After some paperwork, we asked to talk to the health teacher. When we talked to him about setting up a time, he suggested that we do it today.

The kids came to their second hour health class and found us sitting in the front row. They sat next to us. After the second bell rang, Mister Smith got up and addressed the class. "Since we are studying MORFS, its effects, and how to recover, we are very fortunate to have two renowned scientists in that field as guest lecturers."

The class looked confused. Where are the guest lecturers?

Mister Smith continued. "I am very happy to introduce to you Doctors Kim and Sara Martin."

The students gasped as we got up and went to the front of the class. Larry and Cindy just looked smug.

"To answer your first question: Yes, Larry and Cindy are our kids. Sara is their mom, and I am their dad. My name was Howard before I morphed yesterday."

I let them stew on that for a second. Then, I continued.

"Although MORFS generally hits people between the ages of thirteen and sixteen, there are some rare cases in people as young as nine, and as old as twenty-eight. At seventy-one, Sara and I are the oldest people to get hit."

That got their attention.

"But hey, we're not complaining. You young-uns don't appreciate your own youth. Suffice it to say that it's worth it to simply not have to put up with all the routine aches and pains that we old fogies have to deal with every day."

Sara took over. "There are other advantages, too. Those of you who haven't changed may want to remember that when you're puking your guts out some time in the future. For instance, MORFS survivors tend to look anywhere from ten to twenty years younger than their age-mates. This is because MORFS repairs and rebuilds the body."

We launched into standard non-technical spiel about where MORFS originated, what it does, and the importance of picking up your life and moving on once it has worked its changes. Then, we went back to our own story.

"When the kids came down with MORFS, Howard and I took them to see a doctor, then took care of them. We were somewhat surprised that they came out so similar, but didn't think too much of it. It's not all that rare. We had just gotten the kids through all their post-MORFS rigmarole when we came down with it. The fact that we came out almost exactly like the kids indicates to us that it was triggered by the same bug."

I said, "The fact that we got hit at the age of seventy-one told us that something strange was happening. Be assured that some of the finest minds over at the university are looking at the data -- including everything from our basement laboratory."

I could tell that I had the kids' attention.

"A substitute has been teaching our class at the university for the past week or so. We'll be going back this afternoon to teach the class and assemble a team to sort through this new data. We hope to find out how to induce MORFS in older people, and how to control the changes that are made. It's a big project."

After a few more words about surviving MORFS and moving on, we opened the floor for questions. A pretty girl with bright blue hair, elf ears, and an elven figure and face raised her hand. I pointed to her and nodded.

"You don't seem to be at all bothered by turning into a girl. How did you adapt so quickly? Do you miss being a man?"

I rubbed my chin and thought for a second.

"Well, first off all, I'm still male. Of course, I'm female, too. Sara and I both have some new plumbing, so we're still made for each other."

I put up the information for DNA group 204F Hermaphrodite on the e-board.

"But the answer to your question actually comes in several parts. First of all, it's worth any number of changes just to ditch my old seventy-one year old body and fit myself with a young, healthy one. Secondly, I have been a man for seventy-one years. I'm not missing any opportunities by losing my male appearance. I'm not losing my girlfriend or being kicked off of the football team. All I'm losing is the outside appearance of a distinguished, gray-haired professor. That's not to say that I don't have some adjustments to make. My self-image was always male -- though that has never been a huge part of who I am. As I grew as a scientist, and as I grew closer to my wife and raised a family, the trappings of gender identity started to become less significant."

Then I looked right at her.

"The big secret is, though, that you have to separate who you are on the inside from who you are on the outside. You can't change your outside much, so you have to keep the inside parts that are really you, and change the rest so that they work well with that the world sees. You have to become comfortable with who you are."

I could see that she was near tears.

"I know, it seems easy to me, eh? In a way, it is. It's easier than getting old and watching my body fall apart. I won't pretend that I would be nearly as joyful about the change if it had happened when I was a teen-ager."

She nodded.

"Look, I can see that you are hurting a lot. Why don't you arrange with Cindy or Larry to come over to our place so we can talk about it?"

She smiled and thanked me.

Another girl raised her hand, so I pointed and nodded.

"Doctor Sara, how do you feel about seeing your husband as a girl?" The girl blushed.

"If we had both become girls, it would have been more difficult. In this case, though, our bodies are right for each other. The important part is that Kim is the same person inside. The essential things that made him Howard are still there, and only some more superficial parts have had to change to adapt to her new body."

A boy raised his hand. "What are the best and worst parts of your changes?"

"Well," I said, "Probably the second best part is that Sara and I are healthy and have the energy and vigor of teen-agers. Yesterday, for instance, we all chased each other up a tree," I held up my hand and extended my claws. "and followed that by doing laps in the pool, then just goofing around. Before, we wouldn't have been able to do that. Now, it didn't even wear us out."

Sara cut in. "Second best? What are you calling the best?"

I just looked at her and smiled. She turned red. "Kim! Don't corrupt the children!" She swatted me with her tail.

The class cracked up. Larry and Cindy looked like they wanted to slide under their desks.

I continued. "The worst part is that some people consider us to be animals. They are a minority, but they are very vocal. A group of them attacked us last night."

The class gasped.

"Don't worry. They are now in police custody, and we are unhurt."

Another question: "How do you feel about your cat shape?"

I smiled. "I think that Sara is just the cutest little kitty girl I have ever seen! The kids ain't too bad, either."

The kids blushed.

"On a more serious note, we all really enjoy some of the enhancements that come from being a hybrid. Larry and Cindy are in advanced gym class, and we probably would be too if we were still in high school."

The bell rang, and the classroom emptied quickly. I overheard someone saying, "Your parents are cool!" Sara and I smiled at each other.

The girl who asked the first question came up after the rest of the class had filed out. She looked ready to burst into tears. We found out that her name is Cara Jones.

"My dad hates morfies. I'm afraid to go home."

Sara put her arms around her and let her cry on her shoulder. The girl sobbed for a long time, and eventually cried herself out.

"We'll see what we can do to help straighten things out. Meanwhile, you can stay with us."

I gave her one of our business cards, then got her eCom address. "We'll be picking up Larry and Cindy after school. Do you know them?"

She sniffed. "I used to, until I changed."

"They won't reject you no matter how much you changed!"

"I know, but I just couldn't talk to them. They don't know who I am anymore."

I looked at the clock. "You have to get to your next class. When do you have study hall? We'll get everything straightened out then."

We arranged to meet her for lunch and her fourth hour study hall, then scooted off to gym class for testing.

Chapter Seven: Students again

We went to the girls' locker room, grabbed our bags, and got into our gym clothes. We jokingly called them 'cat suits'.

We walked out of the locker room and into organized chaos. The gym teacher, a spider monkey hybrid, was busy instructing a group of students and setting each about his or her task. Larry and Cindy were climbing around a large wooden jungle gym and leaping from area to area. They took a second to wave to us before continuing their exercise routine.

Once he had set everyone to their tasks, he came to us and introduced himself as Mister Jacobson. He immediately got to business and started testing us.

We went though a number of the standard exercise machines. They were pretty much like the ones we have always used, except that they were sturdier and held more weight. Then, we had to climb around the jungle gym with Larry and Cindy. He had them go through a routine, and asked us to follow them.

We spent most of the hour working our tails off. He seriously ran us through the ringer. When we were done, he told us that we qualify for advanced gym class. When we commented that we haven't been in high school for years, he told us that the advanced MORFS classes are funded separately, and that they are available to to all MORFS survivors.

We signed up. Hey, it'll give us an excuse to spend some quality time with the kids. We'll be working on the same thing, and starting at the same level. That should motivate all of us to put our hearts into it.

By the time we were showered up, Mister Jacobson had our test results ready. He handed us the packet. "I look forward to working with you. How do you like researching MORFS up close and personal?"

After we left the gym, we went back to the school office to discuss Cara's issues with the principal. Since the school can't speak for Cara or her mom, they called her and asked her to come in.

Half an hour later, Sue Jones came in, looking rather haggard. She looked at us and asked, "Are you the guys who put those furrows on Randy's face?"

"Randy?" I asked.

"He's in jail right now for attacking four cat hybrids at yesterday's rally."

"I guess the answer is yes, then. We were attacked by a bunch of ruffians, and they didn't come out of it too well."

She held out her hand. "Well thank you so much! Having him away from the house has been such a blessing! Everything Cara and I own is now packed away and stored."

Then she started sobbing. She had been strong for way too long, and it was finally safe to let it all out. Sara and I held her while her body was wracked with the force of her tears.

"It's OK. You're safe now. We'll help you and Cara get a new start."

She looked up at me. "I don't want to be a burden."

"It would be a burden on our hearts," Sara said, "If you didn't let us help you."

We spent some time taking care of the details, like having ourselves and our home added to the restraining order, changing Cara's address, changing her bus, and the like. We found out that Sue had been considering filing for divorce for quite some time. While Randy cooled his heels in jail, Sue and some friends moved all their personal items to a storage locker. Meanwhile, she filed for divorce with full custody of Cara. Also, she asked for a restraining order to keep her soon-to-be ex and his church from harassing her or Cara. All in all, it had been a very rough week for the two of them.

Sue still had some banking and other details to attend to, so we told her that she could meet us in the study hall or, if she was detained, at our home. We used one of our tablet computers to add her hand print to our house's list of authorized people.

Sara and I went over to the study hall. We looked just like a couple students working on an assignment. Actually, that's pretty much what we were doing. While we were under the weather, our colleagues have been sorting through our research, the genetic code of the suite of virii that had attacked our kids, and the virii that got us. We sorted through their preliminary reports, made appropriate comments, took notes, and essentially brought ourselves up to date. Before we knew it, the lunch bell rang. Time flies when you're having fun.

As promised, we met Cara for lunch. The office arranged for us to get lunch as faculty members because of our lecture this morning.

The kids came in and sat with us. Cara reintroduced herself to them. It turns out that her name had been Matthew. We filled everyone in on what was going on, and arranged for them to meet us at the study hall after eighth hour.

When lunch was over, we went back to the study hall. We continued to sort through the data and plan out our lecture for this afternoon's class. We had some time to kill, so I wrote up the following:

Sara, the 135 pound Amazon Cat Girl, wishes to jump to a tree branch. To do that, she has to raise her center of gravity by five feet. She will crouch two feet at the start of her jump.

1) How fast does she have to be going when her feet leave the ground?

2) What is the acceleration of her body as she springs?

3) How much force does her feet have to apply to the ground in order to accomplish this?

I sent it to Sara's computer and asked her if we should send it to the kids' physics teacher.

She sent back:

1) 17.9 Ft/s

2) 80.5 ft/s^2 (which is 2.5 gee)

3) 472.5 Lb

I looked at her. "OK, smart-alek! Show your work."

"Why?" she smirked. "Don't you know how to do it yourself?"

I just rolled my eyes and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

We relaxed for a while, just happy to be with each other. After a little while, Sue showed up. She was tired, but happily reported that she was finished with her errands. She had pulled half of the money from their joint accounts and put it into a new account in her own name. "That should last me for a while. I'll let the judge divvy up the rest of it when the time comes."

Soon, the last bell rang. The few students that were in the study hall left. Soon, Larry, Cindy, and Cara showed up. We all got up and headed for the visitor's parking lot. When we got there, we split up. Sue had parked across the lot from us. Just as we were getting into our car, our sensitive ears picked up the sound of an altercation. "No, I won't go with you!" we heard.

We all sprinted to Sue's car in time to see four men trying to push a struggling Cara into a car that was parked next to Sue's.

"Let her go!" I said in my best authoritative voice. It wasn't nearly as impressive as it had been when I was a pure male.

"Buzz off, kitty freak!"

"Call the police!" I said to Sue. She rummaged through her purse for her eCom.

The four of us surrounded the attackers.

"Leave us, you heathens! We're doing the lord's business!"

"Not likely," I said. "You are nothing but common kidnappers."

"This child's father requires that she go to him."

"Cara's father has a restraining order against him. He is not allowed to approach her," I replied.

The police arrived. "Time to let the professionals handle it," I said quietly to Sara, Larry, and Cindy.

We all backed away from the car. The attackers shoved Cara into the car, and the driver attempted to get away. He started to take off, and almost collided with a police car. He put it into reverse and ended up running into the pusher bumper of another police car. The police car was undamaged, but his back bumper ended up getting crumpled.

When he tried to go forward again, he found himself totally pinned.

The police quickly pulled everyone out of the car and let Cara, shaking and sobbing, run to her mother. It took about fifteen minutes to verify identification, take all our statements, and download the audio that Cindy, bless her heart, had had the presence of mind to record.

"We're going to have to stop meeting like this," I joked to one of the officers. "Do all MORFS survivors have to put up with this much harassment?"

"Some more than others," he admitted. "I suspect that you are on their crud list, now."

"I suspect that we'll go to the top of their list once we give our testimony in court," I sighed.

The trip home went without further incident.

When we bought the house many years ago, we had supplemented our income by renting the flat out to trustworthy students. It had originally been built over the garage as a mother-in-law apartment, but the second owner renovated it and made it into a student flat; complete with four bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen. Because of this, it has an inside stairway going to our living room, and an outside stairway for rental use.

Once home, we made haste to move Sue and Cara into the flat. Since it has its own facilities, they can feel more independent, and less like they are imposing.

Sara called the college and told them that we might be a bit late. It's not a big deal, since John, the post doc student that has been acting as a substitute teacher, was slated to start the class today.

As it turns out, we got there just before the bell. We were the last to enter the room and sat unobtrusively in the back row. John had intentionally prepared a short lesson. After about twenty minutes, he finished up and asked the class if they had any questions.

"How are doctors Howard and Sara doing? Did they come out of MORFS OK?"

John smiled. "I love it when someone feeds me a straight line."

We walked to the front of the class.

This is our place to be. Sara and I were in our comfort zone as we walked up to the front of the room. I smiled at the class. "Good afternoon."

They were all smiles. Their faces welcomed us.

"Since the name Howard no longer suits me, I have taken the name Kim. Sara has kept her name, though her face has been upgraded somewhat." That got a chuckle from the class.

I started the lecture. "While we were indisposed, the field has advanced a bit. Our colleagues sorted through the data from our adventure with MORFS, along with some data from our work in the basement lab. If you have already put your notebooks away, please get them back out."

I continued, "Because of the interests of our children, we have recently been looking at a new branch of physics that deals with time-space fabric patterns. It is similar to quantum physics and superstrings in that all parts of the universe are defined as patterns in the fabric of n-dimensional space. The details are beyond the scope of this class and, quite frankly, beyond me. The gist of the matter is that those patterns can manifest themselves as matter or energy, or they can manifest themselves as something that we don't perceive at all. It is postulated that our souls are made of those patterns. It is also postulated that those patterns are the hidden part of the genetic code -- a kind of a template that helps in the construction or modification of an organism."

I could see that I had their attention. Some of them were scribbling furiously. All were recording us.

"Since none of the elemental and metaphysical abilities that some MORFS survivors manifest have been found in the genetic code, we postulate that these abilities are contained within the metagenetic pattern. Also, we postulate that the abilities themselves stem from an ability to modify these patterns."

I finished up. "Obviously, much research needs to be done. Some of you may become involved with this."

Sara started her part of the lecture. "We were working on some genetic code that we hoped would be able to trigger the regenerative portion of MORFS in an older adult. Since we were working with straight DNA, and not a virus, we were a little more lax with biocontamination than we should have been -- fortunately." Some of the students smiled when they caught her meaning.

"Apparently, when our children came down with MORFS, that code found its way into some of the virii that had infected them. When we subsequently became infected, that code allowed MORFS to be triggered in our own seventy-one year old bodies. We have samples of that suite of virii, and believe that we can infect any adult with MORFS if we want to. Obviously, this is going to require much further research."

She put one of the cuter of our kitty family pictures up on the e-board. "It also appears that the virus suite can control the direction of the MORFS changes. We hadn't noticed this before because MORFS is generally triggered by a regular cold or influenza virus, and such a virus has no genetic code that can be used in our own bodies."

She paused a bit to let the students digest this. Then she laid it out explicitly.

"Our bout with MORFS indicates that it is possible to induce MORFS in a mature adult, and that we can probably produce the genetic changes that we desire. If our research pans out, we may be able to provide custom modifications to any adult. At the very least, we will be able to extend our lives indefinitely. If all goes well, we will be able to choose our forms."

I concluded the lecture. "After this class, Sara and I are meeting with the college board. The board will be soliciting funding and putting together research teams to explore these new breakthroughs. Some of you may be on the teams. Whatever they decide to do, we will be sponsoring our own research in our basement lab. We already have some people in mind, but are definitely looking for more volunteers. If you are interested, tell us in writing why you are interested and what you believe you can add to the team."

I put the list of DNA groups from our own transformation on the e-board, and turned the floor back over to Sara. She briefly went through the list.

"As you can see, Kim and I received identical suites of DNA modifications."

She finished up, "I'll now open the floor to questions. We're all friends here, and I'm sure that you're curious, so personal questions are OK."

There were a few questions regarding the new research projects, but it quickly became very personal.

"Doctor Kim, you seem quite comfortable with an outwardly female appearance. How did you adapt so quickly?"

I knew that one was coming.

"First of all, I'm seventy-one years old. Getting a younger body, no matter what gender, is a huge blessing. Also, having gone through an entire lifetime of maleness, I don't feel that I have lost any opportunities."

I smiled at Sara. "It would have killed me if anything happened to my family relationships. As it is, Sara looks better to me than ever, and we are definitely having fun with our new bodies."

Sara blushed.

"That, too," I smirked. "But I wasn't only talking about our new plumbing. After we got home the first day, we rediscovered the childhood joys of climbing trees and generally goofing around." I held up my hand and let the claws slide out.

Sara added, "We had pretty much given up some of the things that we did when we were younger, like wilderness camping and some of the more the more energetic sports that we used to enjoy. Now, those activities are open to us again. We can share them with our kids this time."

"It certainly beats doddering around slowly and treating yourself as fragile," I said.

One of the students asked, "Are they any down-sides?"

"Well," I replied. "It mostly has to do with others' perceptions of us. The anti-MORFS people gave us a rough time. Also, this body doesn't command quite the respect that I got when I had gray hair and wrinkles. Plus, there are a couple minor physical issues. Sara got to learn all about prostate exams, and I got introduced to Mister Speculum."

Sara snickered. "Just wait until I start teaching her about high heels and the fine art of makeup."

"Doctor Sara, what do you think about having your handsome husband turned into a girl?"

Sara just smiled. "Oh, I think she's just the cutest thing around!"

I swatted her with my tail.

She grabbed my tail and started stroking it. "She's cute, and my new body gives me an entirely new appreciation of that. The real telling thing, though, is the fact that the love of my life is still there inside that cute little head."

Having my tail stroked felt really good. With some regret, I pulled it out of her grasp. "Let go before I lose my composure," I said. "You can have all the tail you want tonight."

"Promise?" she asked.

The students snickered.

Just then, the bell rang.

(end)

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