Chapter Text
Summertime for Solarians
It was around summertime when a certain day felt different, as if something strange was going to happen that would make regular folks like us suffer. I didn’t feel this personally, but when I asked others as they prepared for the day, everyone agreed they sensed it too, though no one could say more.
It certainly felt cold that morning, that… damned morning, when I thought things were looking up on my end, parents were still sleeping away the Five O’clock morning, while I woke up and did my morning ritual; brushing my teeth, taking a shower, dressing up, taking out the dog for a walk, all that jazz.
I readied myself for work and prayed to God for safe travels. I thanked him for the roof over my head, which was paid off. Usually, nothing drastic happened, and I could head off in peace. I left for work in the early morning dark with others earning their paychecks. The commute felt long as I followed my usual path of four years, heading to a part-time job in Medical Records at a hospital.
My job isn’t glamorous, but the thirty-minute drive across the county is a quiet respite. I chose this work for a reason—as I parked near the employee entrance, I got ready to help nurses scan documents.
Summer is defined by where you live. As a Floridian in the Heartlands, it's the worst—relentless heat, unbearable without A/C.
Good thing there weren’t any Snowbirds bringing any type of fresh hell to bother us with, but in exchange, we get the full brunt force of summer. Doesn’t help that most of the folks are heading down south to Florida to “Enjoy” whatever the hell is happening up north in Orlando, or down south in Miami (or whatever Florida Man does down there, don’t ask, don’t give a shit, it’s Miami-Dade County, whatcha gonna do ‘bout it?). After all, anything Coastal or near the big cities is the usual stomping ground for vacationers, both Americans and Foreigners alike.
As for me, I was settling into my work rhythm, not wanting to waste time checking Discord. I was digitizing the hospital's paperwork when something traumatic occurred—an event that would leave those involved questioning everything about our newly 'special' lives.
From what I remember of the event, I was typing a particularly difficult-to-read patient ID when I felt a tremor. I was like, ‘What the hell happened?’ when I looked out of the door to see a wave of color over the horizon.
I was confused about what it was—was it rain, some kind of rainbow experiment, or something else? The wave of light kept coming closer to my position. I quickly opened my office door and urged others to come to the window.
Thankfully, I got a decent number of folks to look out the window, and then it washed over us like a wave of light, and the light show was over. I like to think that was about it, and that I could return to work.
Like a flick of a switch, my body felt something was wrong inside it, like somebody had turned on the heater, even though it was a nice peachy 68 degrees Fahrenheit.
Pain shot through me, as if my pores burned and bled. Others noticed as I leaned against the window, then slid to the ground.
My breath was taken away. My sense of touch was gone. The pain still remained. I collapsed to the floor, stiff. The only thing that remained was that red, hot pain. My mind raced; my mouth tried to scream, but nothing came out.
Several nurses, and at least one doctor, looked at me in shock, concern, and horror as blood seeped from my orifices and skin. I collapsed into their hands, unable to speak as I convulsed in pain.
Looking at the tiled floor, a trail of blood seems to flow down my face, my hand shaking as I feel it moving, my bones growing, breaking, and growing. My whole body was failing, feeling like every bone in it was being individually crushed, one by one, all my being hurting at best, as I strangled out a cry of choking pain.
By then, the nurses had taken me to a bed of sorts. Many were administering aid as I tried to reach out to anybody—just anybody.
My hands were shaking uncontrollably when I suddenly paused at the strange feeling of something tugging at my finger. I lifted it up and watched in mounting horror as my index and middle fingers slowly fused together. At the same time, my whole arm was turning furred and grey, and my skin began bleeding through my pores.
Gasps erupted as I looked up. The nurses stared at my arm in horror. My body no longer felt like my own. I could only groan as air escaped me, then I blacked out.
-
OWhen I woke, everything was stiff. My legs jutted off the bed; my hospital gown replaced my clothes. My bag was beside me—small mercies.
Slowly sitting up in bed, I winced as needles stuck out of my arm. Wondering why, I looked closer and saw my arm was covered in gray fur.
Short, grey like fur…
“… what the fuck!” I said to myself as I noticed the cardiac monitor racing beside my bed. My whole body is sore, and all I can think is, ‘Is my dog ok?’
As I tried to scramble off the hospital bed that I got myself into, I found myself looking at a deputy in PPE; he was very surprised to see me awake, so too were the many nurses that I’ve known since I started working in this hospital, who entered the room, exhausted, but ok.
My hearing was fading as she began speaking to me; the deputies looked on with concern.
“Y-- mu-t ---- in -ed. Dr. Rokes -s cu—en-ly ma---- sure th—your b-dy is sta—e.” She states, as I looked at her again.
“… what!?” I blurted as the nurse gently pushed me back onto the bed. She mouthed ‘Bed Rest’. I instinctively checked my ears, touched the side of my head, then patted the top. Realizing my ears were on top of my head, I touched one and felt it twitch.
The nurse shook her head, stopping me from cleaning my ears. I looked down at her, realizing my height as I reached for my ears.
“D-n’t, it mi—t infect -t.” she said as I raised an eyebrow at her. The Deputy simply stared back, hand on his pistol's pommel. I sighed and gingerly tried to get back to bed without too much help, mindful of my size, though I was very thin and quite hungry.
In the following hours, familiar doctors and those likely with the Florida Department of Health come and go, collecting my blood, other fluids, and fecal matter. I know these procedures well—a fact that says little for a failed nursing student like me. Mostly, I occupy myself writing in my journal or using my computer, small mercies. Even so, I fumble my pencil or make too many grammatical mistakes with my four-fingered hands, missing my middle finger.
-
While lazing in bed, checking my limbs one by one, I see how alien yet familiar I am to myself and those who care for me. I was abnormally tall, at least eight or nine feet in this instance. When allowed to walk the hallways and grassy hills around the hospital, I managed with my head angled sideways, ears nearly brushing the ceiling. Outside, though, it was freeing after my bout of cabin fever. Just another note in my mind of the many things that, for lack of better terms, made me different.
Another immediate difference, and a source of contention that heightened my self-image awareness and sense of alienation from my own body, is the obvious change in my gender.
A set of, admittedly nice, cup size breasts that are proportional to my size, so naturally large, and naturally heavy (though I have to say that the weight isn’t negligible, just present), alongside my somewhat slim but bulky hourglass figure that came to be when I began eating properly again.
Of course, that somehow made most of the nurses on the station quite envious of me, don’t blame them, and any guys just simply look at me. At least there isn’t any ill will on my colleague's end and such, not that there was any sort of competition (no offense), and to top it all of in this… shit filled four months of struggling; I, R. T. Dela Cruz, has a functional vagina that, for all tense and purpose, is both normal and intact.
What has my life and its rotten fucked up logic that is called ‘luck’ gotten me into, at least it could’ve done is get me dinner first… So much for my dick, as I sometimes feel like I still have my very manly and important bits still on. Ghost limping me for days to come, and worst of all, any form or sense of self or that of anything going back to normal, as I walked amongst the nurses who, thankfully, took care of me.
It certainly felt like a family, as I can barely contain my ever-lurking sense of Cabin Fever…
Only for my stay to start feeling a bit more complicated and very complex, as I found myself being visited by the rest of the Health Information Management System team, especially my boss, an enigma to me, maybe for the better, because I don’t dig in anybody’s closets, unless they give me a good reason to.
Anyways, she knew my mother very well when she worked at the hospital’s sister location and is, is, good friends with her, but to me, I believe she is a good Manager Overall and has earned my respect for how she handles her workload. I, on the other hand, have made myself unremarkable on purpose, and didn’t need much supervision, not that it warrants it. I was mostly the diligent one in the group, who did my work, turned it in on time, and did so without much quibble.
Her 2IC was mostly the immediate boss that I reported to as well. She did care for me, but as much as I believed both visits were benevolent, my condition during those visits made me think otherwise.
I pretty much took up this position as a part-time job to keep myself busy and earn some pocket money while doing my college classes. Accounting, after all, is a job that pays well, but it wasn’t my dream job, not that this generation is ever going to get their dream jobs.
At least it paid well, relatively speaking, and kept me sane during the year that my parents went to Cali for work, along with a multitude of other things that kept me sane(?) amongst other things.
Of course, they now have work near home, but… talking to them on the phone reminds me of those bleak times when I was alone with my dog. And the folks here aren’t letting me go, not for a while, I suppose.
Which brings me to what is happening across the globe: put it bluntly, it was a clusterfuck of epic proportions.
After much research, I was one of the 5% who somehow got turned into large or small anthropomorphic cats, with certain caveats for variations.
Most were like me, four-fingered cats with feline features, no tails, all fur, hair for some strange reason, and generally being taller, or smaller; as stated, it varied. While some were five-fingered cats, with the rare few having all flavors of our… dynamic features; five fingers, digitigrade legs, and a tail to boot.
So much for variation, as I began asking and researching online about what happened during… whatever the hell this thing is.
Nobody knows, and everybody is very concerned about why this is happening to a specific number of people (including me, of course).
To say that it was limited in scope is very disingenuous when, in reality, it was interspersed amongst the population of Earth. Appearing all over the world, from Asia to Africa, to Europe, to Oceania, the Americas, and even one researcher for each Pole.
Cats are pretty much everywhere, and I don’t know why it’s happening. It’s been mostly capped at around 1 billion out of 8 billion people worldwide. So it certainly did have a far reach amongst the many, as I mostly converse with my friends on Discord about statistics, something of a bread-and-butter for me.
From what I heard, Nine Sols, those poor devils in Taiwan, are blowing up; or any furry server for all tenses and purpose, as I mostly watched from the background, many servers, many forums, and a multitude of News Op-ed’s about this multi-months long ‘situation’ that is rocking the nations, more so then not, it was like a new chapter really, a very bloody, and mysterious chapter.
My parents were, as always, concerned as well, since they are literally thirty minutes away from me, but because of me, a couple of other folks in and around the County, and pretty much everywhere else, martial law was enacted to make certain perceived threats of a mutagenic virus are anything but airborne, and wouldn’t be spreading across America, or anywhere that isn’t affected by this… thing.
Which means, yes, this hospital is also on lockdown because of yours truly. I was one of the two to three thousand people in Highlands County who experienced this sudden transformation.
Great, more paperwork.
Keeping myself busy on my computer has been more of me being blessed for my perceived paranoia and preparedness. Still, broaching the topic of having to relearn how to type on my computer, relearning how to use my very big and very new four-fingered hands on this somewhat wide gaming computer of mine has been hell on my typing speed. I mostly count on counting my blessings for convincing my mother to buy a gaming computer for me.
Only to find myself looking at a CDC representative holding a tablet.
He was mostly asking about how I feel, mentally, physically, and spiritually. Sort of a before and after feeling of everything that’s been going on for who knows what, I think the term ‘Accidental Transwoman/species’ applies here, somewhere. Shit, I didn’t ask for this, I didn’t ask for anything; the only thing I wished was a break, time to think to myself, and a good bank account/401k, but I guess... I mostly didn’t know how to answer those questions, since I don’t know how to react to this situation in general.
I’ve been mostly going at things on autopilot… I didn’t exactly “crave” anything, other than going home. A feeling shared amongst the staff here, and, thankfully, for them, quarantine ended when the CDC personnel cleared the lockdown, but I still remain.
Here, alone, and mentally exhausted.
They pretty much put me through the wringer, that is, whatever this hell is, tests upon tests, motion upon that of motion per their orders, and a never-ending sense of work. At least, I don’t have any schooling to do for the foreseeable future.
Ever since ‘The Event,’ I was stuck here for eight, god damn, months. Rehabilitating, re-learning how to move, how to chew properly, how to use everyday items, and controlling my strength. Strength that defies the expectations of a person of my stature.
After much deliberation amongst the state and federal government officials overseeing my care, they deemed me cleared to go home; much to my and my caretaker’s jubilation, and to me profusely apologizing to them about what happened earlier on– even after they said that they forgive me.
Packing up my stuff and taking a ride in the company’s ambulance, I was taken home without much fanfare, and just like that, a new page of life was turned… hopefully not for the worst.
-
Reaching back home to my quaint hometown that I’ve called home for twenty years, I was happy to see my car in the driveway.
After carefully disembarking the Ambulance that brought me back home, I said my thanks. At least the Hospital and those Government Personnel paid for my hospital bill.
Now, the question remains: what the hell am I supposed to do, since I was given a break from my part-time job? Pretty much let go with a stipend that will last me, at least, two years. By then, I’ll probably be graduating with a bachelor's, and hopefully dig myself out of this new problem of mine.
My parent’s right there at the front of our home to welcome me, as much as I was towering over them, they still hugged my big frame all the same. Now, they had a lumbering giant as their “son”, even though I never acknowledged my new gender, I wasn’t going to get used to this.
Nor the fact that I have to crouch every time I’m going to go through a doorway. What made it worse was the fact that I was also confronting that of my pet dog, a multi-colored mix of a mutt, but always loyal to me and my family, a true friend, and one that slept and stayed beside me through thick and thin.
I don’t know what’s worse, her barking and growling at me wherever I walk, or the fact that she doesn’t know it’s me.
I also had other cats, three feral ones, ones that came after my… personally raised cat died due to infection. Never had I ever felt so much love from any animal, unlike him, except for my already deceased brother, a dog I practically grew up with; I was pretty much his father/brother.
He loved us, my family and I, protected our house, and what did we do? Just a shallow grave and a memory. It sucks, and it never got easier in truth, but I was forced to move on, a poor fate indeed.
I still pour a bowl of food for him, for the memory of it all, to remind myself that I was responsible for his death; now, the cat distribution system has come, and somehow it has become part of it for me. Life has a sick sense of humor if you ask me.
Then, of course, there is that of my parents, and as always, they certainly raised hell about their kid; certain questions like “what happened”, and “what did the Doctors have to say about my condition” were said, so I told them what they (the Doctors/Researchers) believed happened.
A cosmic incident in which the other one billion humans and I were fused together with alien-like DNA, and that of familiar genetic strands similar to those of a wide spectrum of the Felidae family tree. Strange, but doable for our stalwart scientist in scrubs.
Of course, from what I can infer, there were differing variations of said DNA makeup, but in the end… It’s mostly left up in the air, a very, very tense air.
-
To say the least, my parents were certainly making up for lost time, not being completely alone in my struggles, as I feel like my muscles aren’t helping me with fine motor movement, but of course, as parents, they hound me on everything.
I took the time to finish… anything really, I couldn’t find the heart to do anything meaningful, and the internet became a refuge for my thoughts. I never thought I would miss New Year's with my family. Now, I’m more worried about my future, and somehow the thought of being a gorgeous exotic wife and/or stereotypical pretty secretary feels… off. My jumbled-up and very much crowded thoughts were firing off so many scenarios in my head that it was mind-boggling, as I seemed to stare at a wall for… God knows how long.
I’m also glad to say that we don’t have any nosy neighbors to poke and prod at me, so I mostly contended to observe, exercise, and catalog certain things that arose in my biological needs.
Sitting in the backyard garden to soak up the sun and meditate has been beneficial to me, as has being able to pet my dog without her trying to bite me, which is a bonus.
Then I was forced to buy essentials, mostly because my parents were in Orlando to get supplies for an upcoming party of ours; nonetheless, I also heard that Walmart was selling clothes about my size, which my old clothes couldn’t exactly fill. I was lucky enough that the government provided me with enough clothes to last me a week before sending me back home.
The same can’t be said about the masses beyond my home.
As I drove my family’s SUV to Walmart, literally a five-minute drive for me, not exactly a bad place to shop in, not exactly a good place to have everybody’s attention, though, as I pulled up to the parking lot and brought up a list of items to, well, purchase.
… Everybody was staring at me, even the couple of Cat People, or “Catfolk” for modern parlance, and it made me visibly uncomfortable because I was literally the tallest person in that parking lot.
Speedwalking as quickly as I could, I headed into the supermarket, ducking my head once to avoid the sliding doors and twice to avoid the air conditioning unit that contained the cool air. My fur didn’t feel like it was going to overheat anytime soon, and of course, more staring mixed in with a couple of people recording me with their phones, a new muse, I guess.
Not a lot, but cameras nonetheless pointed towards me.
I was already on the news in the hospital, though truth be told, I wasn’t the only one, but I was one of the lucky few that were to occupy a hospital bed near home, pretty much the whole hospital system here in Highlands was overwhelmed with patients, so the Feds and pretty much FEMA, came in to make more field hospitals, or take the rest to other facilities that weren’t so impacted by that of ‘The Event’, though, from what I heard, it was a God awful mess.
I didn’t want any more of the news, thank you very much, as I naturally followed the signs and hastily headed inside the marketplace.
Speedwalking to and fro, aisle to aisle, every article of clothing, snacks, and means of not getting bored. People stared, some I noticed, were staring intently at certain parts of my body. I couldn’t blame them, but I wasn’t going to entertain that line of thought, so I got what I needed, paid for the items, the cashier just in awe of how tall I am, small talk was kept short, and I left with much haste, or dawdling about.
I can’t believe this is my life now.
Once back home, I also had to maintain my home. Fixing the filter here, and getting stuff thrown away there, the usual. Then I headed off to refill my gas at a gas station I'd been to more or less. After that, I left for Fort Meade.
-
There's a gun store over there that has all the odds and ends a novice like me would need. From Blackpowder supplies to Gun Maintenance, to reloading equipment. It was a gun nut's paradise for those who know what they’re looking for.
I intend to continue where I left off, as I parked myself outside the many shops that lined the street.
Not many folks at this time of hour, but entering the store, and ducking as per usual. I found myself looking at the gunsmith, as all eyes were on me. Waving my hand a bit, I find myself having to help myself to get out of this awkward situation.
“… hello, sir, uh… I’m here to pick up the .38 Special Reloading kit.” I stated, as I then heard a soft meow near my feet. Beside me was the store’s black cat, faithful, very vigilant, and fat.
I didn’t want to scare it, as I smiled at the cat with no teeth showing.
Broken out of my astonishment at said very tall cat lady I was today, I unfortunately had to reintroduce myself; it is tiring.
I then went into my pocket, pulled out my wallet, and a subsequent paper slip.
“Umm, I came here to pick up a reloading kit; here is my order slip,” I stated my purpose again out of habit, as I held the paper slip.
The elderly gunsmith looked at the absolutely tiny slip of paper that I held out in my massive hands. I took care not to do anything that might scare him or hit something by accident.
“… oh… I do remember… is that… is that you, Mr. Dela Cruz, under all that fur?” The elderly gunsmith said, making light of the situation, as I chuckled a bit.
“Yeah, I know, I know… its…’ as I sighed ‘been a rough year… I… don’t want to talk about it.” I said, as he nodded and patted my arm.
“I don’t doubt it one bit, young man. I don’t doubt it one bit.” I appreciated his gesture of goodwill.
And just like that, we talked about, well, old times, that of the history of guns, and mostly purchasing my items before leaving with a heartfelt ‘goodbye.’
An hour well spent if you ask me, as I headed home and got to work.
A busy mind is a healthy mind; fuck those psychologists… they never had any good intentions in mind.
-
As I spend my time either working on my worktable, eating, exercising, and watching the news through the ever-controversial YouTube, I find myself looking at some videos of… Catfolks (what can I call them, Solarians?) making videos of themselves, doing things that Vtubers and Furries envy the most, or simply doing parkour (my favorite), as well as one special person throwing down with a Leopard, which I find cruel… and of course, there are other sites that are doing “things” that I’m not willing to mention for obvious reasons. Just know that they’re getting too creative with certain body parts.
I won’t lie, I partially envy their outlook in life, but I have many doubts about certain aspects of my personality, considering the fact that I’m as vanilla as it gets with interacting, as well as being able to pull, well, that was until I got turned into this form, nor do I have the Charisma to pull it off perfectly, I do value my quiet after all.
And, with the extra time in my hands, I mostly ventured off to parts of Florida I usually don’t go to, from Bradenton to Tampa to West Palm Beach to Lorida, of all places. It seems that I have gotten a following of sorts, and officially, the tallest person in the State of Florida (if you’re wondering, I’m nine feet tall, and I hate it.)
Talking to a lot of men and women alike who were the curious sorts, par for the course, I guess. Sometimes hinting to them what I feel about the sudden transformation, and its aftermath. I don’t intend to wear my emotions on my sleeves to strangers, not anymore.
It was a nice talk amongst curious folks and those who respect my boundaries; it doesn’t help that West Palm Beach was also part of South Florida. Yes, that is where the crazies are, no, I won’t participate in their… frivolities, as much as said parties are legendary.
I wasn't surprised to see a lot more Catfolks in the city, after all, almost a year had passed by, and it seems that many have taken to their new reality very well, or were forced to, like fish in water, with some being a bit overt in their intentions to stand out amongst the crowd.
Not that I need to, but more power to them, I suppose
Truth be told, I wasn’t enamored by the glitz and glam of it all, not when everybody noticed the towering catfolk in the middle of the crowd that towered even the second-tallest person in the crowd, which happens to be another passing-by catfolk that seems to be busier with their phone than anything else.
Then again, wolf whistles and mommy jokes are abound, as well as the usual ‘step on me, mommy’ add into the mix. On par for the course, I guess.
I, on the other hand, was a simple country boy (girl?) through and through that has been burnt by a city’s inhospitable nature, and it’s cruel like scamming nature, so naturally, I tend to prefer the quiet nature of the agrarian side of Florida, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to miss many of the urbanized places, too noise and crowded all in the same.
But in all seriousness, I find myself reflecting on the locations I visited and looking into the reason why certain things are the way they are. It’s a shame that it needed a literal act of God to make me ‘get out of my comfort zone’, because I have this nagging feeling that this would be the last vestiges of “normality” I'll ever have for decades to come.
Then again… maybe I was the right type of exotic that could cement itself to any form of fame… nah, I wasn’t egotistical enough to take advantage of my situation, and besides, I don’t want to deal with anybody during my once-a-day trips.
If only I could get to the panhandle…
Seeing that as a useless endeavor, other than using U.S. 27, the only route I trust that won’t make me crash/go into an apoplectic rage every time a speeder comes by (ironic, really), I then consolidated the many souvenirs I got and mostly placed everything where it was needed. And only then, did I begin to appreciate it all… am I rambling again?
Taking the time to sit down for a bit, I find myself perusing the Internet when I find some sort of get-together pertaining to us Catfolks. Furry matters and such, but as much as it sounds enticing to head there, one it was all the way in Pittsburgh, and two, I wasn’t going to shell out the money to fly or drive all the way there just to meet some strangers that will do anything/everything for a publicity stunt, so I contended myself to visiting friends of mine.
One very near-and-dear friend of mine has always been welcome in my household.
An old friend of mine, nicknamed Angel, who has been with me for quite a while since I arrived here in America, of course, she and her girlfriend are quite friendly to me; this is also my first time since I’ve gotten turned into my current form, to see her in person, a very long time to be exact.
To say the least, when I arrived at their house to see them, I pretty much surprised them both with how tall and bulky I looked . Towering over them both as usual, and in turn, both of them began ribbing me about my… everything, friendly jesting and such. One I desperately need, and with my friend’s brief Hiatus in her nursing school, I intend to enjoy her time with me the most.
Both had to contend with trying to do idle gossip with me, which wasn’t my thing, and mostly having it railroaded by them asking about what I was feeling like; after all, you usually don’t have friends turn furries on a lark, maybe uncommon, whether it be painful or not.
I didn’t want to become… ‘this’ a tall amazon of a woman with no feeling of privacy, or that of agency in terms of my well being, in fact, it exacerbates things that I prefer left buried, concepts of self-worth and inadequacies layered upon work, which was supposed to distract me from the pain of life, nor did I ever wanted this; after all, changing one’s gender should be a choice. Not a life-changing decision that was, in all tense and purpose, forced upon me on a whim, as we later got into a philosophical debate on what is and isn’t right and wrong. To say the least, it was a long conversation, a needed one to balm the mental pain that I so kept under wraps, and one which left me wondering ‘what is next’.
Flexing one’s mind is always a good thing in this type of setting, as we all conversed, helped out around the household, and tested my newfound strength, which slowly escalated to seeing what I can and cannot lift. The fact that I can deadlift a sedan with ease made my Angel quite jealous.
She was a weightlifter, a deadlift to boot, and she knew her craft very well, I don’t blame her look of envy, even my strength surprises me to no end; oh well, by then, we ended the day by going to the nearby lake, technically a park, to take in the breeze, and the Five o’clock setting of the sun.
A beautiful sight of the sun setting over a distance, and me with a couple of friends. Mostly contend with the knowledge that everything will come out all right, probably, only to have it partially ruined when some of the people at the lake took notice of me, and started taking pictures of me like I was an exotic animal, I mean, there were others, but… same song and dance.
Without a shadow of a doubt, there are pictures circulating around the internet of me up there as well, as I contend to adjust my hat nestled between my head and ears, keep my jacket closer to myself, as much as having a supersized body will do me jack and shit, and keep on walking with my friends. Hopefully, nothing more comes out of this, as I thumbed my phone in my pocket.
That tiny, tiny phone that fits in my palm like it’s an iPod, thank god I can work well without my claws touching the screen.
Not only that, but it is also the place where I hid my holstered pistol; the last thing I need is to leave home defenseless while a hostile hick takes offense to my presence.
After everything that happened that evening, I decided to head home after our get-together and see if I could get more clothing to replace some of my wardrobe. As much as I thank God that I bought clothing Large, mostly of my previous obese nature, not even most of said clothes would fit my frame, or my torso, or anything for that matter. As I have stated, I had to make do with at least a week’s worth of custom-made clothing that the Hospital/Government gave me.
Being nine feet tall doesn’t help in the slightest, and I do struggle to get around my house or use some of the things I like to play with.
Pretty much relearning by myself, without much assistance from any known authorities that might be used to this… this mess.
I’ll never be normal again, and I doubt anything will be the same ever again, for all of those who got changed.
I’ll have to be patient then, or else I’ll be burning myself out… sooner or later.