Merritt Sivertsen, ex NSA employee and now a possessor of a Chronivac, wasn’t scared off the transformations possible with the Chronivac by his problems being transformed intermittently and randomly against his will into a greyhound. After a month of using it he saw it as part of the normal way of things.
So, with that frustrating problem behind him, Merritt turned to the problem of the corrupt bastards in the NSA who had gotten him kicked out and who were using the agency for who knows what sick goal.
Merritt had been inside the homes of a couple of them and been repulsed at some of the sick shit he’d found on their laptops. Pedophilia. Rape. Torture.
And he’d seen enough of their schedules and cryptic notes that it seemed to him that they had some kind of meeting on many Thursdays.
So, the next day, a Thursday, Merritt turned himself into a peregrine falcon. This was a form he really liked. And he did it standing on the scale in his bathroom. He set the chronivac up on the counter by the sink and set up the transformation. He peeled off his clothes and looked down at the digital display.
165 lbs
He pressed START and answered YES, again, to the prompt asking if he was sure. Instantly an electromagnetic wave passed through him and he could feel himself changing.
In just ten seconds, Merritt’s mass steadily plummeted till finally the scale reading stabilized at
2 lbs
His legs shortened. His body lengthened and he covered over with feathers. His face changed shape and his nose and mouth fused and extended forward into a sharp, hooked beak. His arms got proportionally stronger and formed into wings.
The transformation complete, Merritt let out a series of happy, high pitched chirps. He hopped a little awkwardly into the hallway and then hopped a little further past the kitchen island toward the slider door he had carefully left open for himself. He hopped out the opening and the leaped up from the balcony and spread his wings and flew.
Being a falcon and flying at high speed had a glorious feeling of doing what you were meant to be doing. It was almost the same as sprinting along as a greyhoud but this was even better for being his own power of flight.
Merritt soared over DC to the NSA office building several miles away. There, he glided hundreds of feet overhead waiting for Carruthers to emerge from the building. When he did, Merritt followed him, flying in big, half mile circles overhead and constantly keeping an eye on him.
Carruthers didn’t go back to his condo but veered off in another direction. Merritt the falcon swooped lower to keep an even closer eye on him. After 25 minutes of driving through traffic to get several miles off to another side of the DC metro area, Carruthers pulled into a parking lot in front of a large brick building surrounded by huge old trees.
Merritt flew down and landed in one of the limbs of the tree closest to the entrance. He watched Carruthers get out of his car and do his shambling, unathletic walk to the entrance with a bulky bag over his shoulder. Merritt couldn’t resist and jumped up from the limb and squeezed out a smelt as he got over Carruthers dropping it on the shoulder of his jacket.
“What the -?!”
Merritt flew off to another tree. Going by the door he had seen the sign over the entrance.
YALE ALUMNI ATHLETIC CLUB
Merritt rolled his dark brown falcon eyes. Seriously? Do these assholes really keep saluting all their lives that they were scheming, grasping little suckups when they were teenagers?
He kept watching the parking lot. He circled around the building but there really weren’t many windows of any use, a few windows at what must have been administrative offices and a large plate glass window at the side of a basketball court. There certainly wasn’t anywhere he could sit his little 2 pound, feather covered self and listen in.
Merritt was back in a tree in front of the building when he spied Carruthers and another guy who he’d seen at the NSA building but whose name he didn’t know getting out of their cars and waddling into the building.
Merritt left and flew back home. Inside his apartment, he jumped up onto the counter next to the bathroom sink and pressed his beak to the keyboard of his laptop setting in motion his change back into his human form.
He got larger and larger, his legs stretched, the feathers that covered him steadily disappeared. He grew back his epic penis. He legs lengthened, his buns arced full and round out back of him. He regained fingers and his face returned to human shape.
Okay, that had gotten him some valuable information. Today was Thursday and Carruthers, Fairfax and that other guy were meeting at the Yale Alumni Athletic Club in DC. Maybe it was there, in a sauna or a racquetball court or somewhere that they discussed their schemes to get rid of honest agents at the NSA, though with what eventual goal in mind, Merritt wasn’t sure.
Merritt desperately wanted to be there among them, to hear what they were plotting, to get ahead of them and to prove what shit they’d already done. But how?
He considered a sentient inanimate object transformation but it seemed so uncertain. Turn yourself into a towel and what if you get handed out to some other guy and wrapped around his pathetic, hairy ass and wiping off his substandard dong?
Merritt considered turning himself into Mary again. But why would these flabby losers think that a beautiful woman wanted to be around them? They’d never believe it. They weren’t that stupid.
For a few days, Merritt considered turning himself into a copy of one of them and taking that guy’s place at their meeting. He drove out to the condos where Carruthers lived and parked in one of the spots nearest to his unit. He placed the laptop on his car’s console, behind the shift, and aimed the emitter up toward Carruthers. Merritt was in luck. Carruthers was in the nearest room, just in range. It took several seconds at the limit of the unit’s range rather than the 2 or 3 seconds it usually took to read into the computer a new identity. But quickly enough it was in. Merritt snickered at the naked, 3D line drawing of thoroughly unimpressive Carruthers slowly turning on the screen.
But the more Merritt thought about this one the less he liked it. What if they spoke to each other in half finished thoughts vaguely referenced events or decisions about which they all knew? They weren’t likely to talk in clear, self-damning terms about things that they’d done when other people could be around. It would be all vague statements with double entendres, wouldn’t it?
The more he thought about it, the more risky taking Carruthers’ place seemed to be. It was too early. He didn’t know just what they were doing and what their goal was. Maybe once he had a fix on their game he could use the chronivac to take Carruther’s or Fairfax’s place. What he needed now was more info that would let him start to see the whole picture. But how to get it?
They wouldn’t believe that the beautiful female version of himself, Mary, actually had any interest in them. They’d be suspicious of her. The more Merritt thought about it, the more it seemed to him that they wouldn’t let anyone near them. They would consider anyone to be a threat.
And then it hit him.
“Of course!”
There was one sort of person they desired and about whom they wouldn’t be suspicious. They were all pervs who wanted to rape underage boys. Carruthers had a video of a boy being raped over a ballet barre on the desktop of his laptop, for God’s sake. Fairfax had boy and girl pedophilia on his desktop computer at his large suburban home.
I’ll give them what they really want and they won’t think of me as a threat. And they won’t even notice my recording them because they’ll be so interested in fucking my little ass. Of course!
Merritt could only guess what was the age boy that they wanted most but the boy being raped over the ballet barre on Carruthers’ computer had seemed young but had had a dong to him. 11? 11 and a half, just at the start of puberty? At least one of the rape victims on Fairfax’s computer had seemed about that age, too.
Merritt also remembered that Carruthers had had a picture on his computer of him, Merritt, at that age in his ballet tights. He couldn’t just show up as 11 and a half year old Merritt Sivertsen. They’d recognize his eyes, his face. And Merritt had been a good looking boy but he wanted to make the boy that he turned himself into so shockingly beautiful to them that they couldn’t make him go away. But how would he know just what they liked most?
It hit him again.
“Of course!”
He had Carruthers’ profile in the computer now. He’d turn himself into an exact copy of Carruthers including all of his sexuality and see what would most turn him on.
Merritt stood in front of the laptop and pulled off his clothes. At last, he hit start and then YES when asked if he was sure he wanted to go head. He set the change to be relatively slower, over two minutes to perceive all of the differences.
The electromagnetic wave passed through him and Merritt felt his hairline recede a bit and his hair thin out some. His cheeks got a bit puffy and his chin diminished. He remained the same height but his legs got slightly shorter and his torso longer. His femur seemed to lengthen slightly and his tibia and fibula shorten.
His pelvis widened slightly but his buns flattened. And they flattened some more. And they flattened some more.
“Damn. A lousy preppy ass.”
His epic penis shortened and narrowed and he lost his big floppy foreskin and became circumcised. He shuddered. So gross that anyone would do this to their little boy!
His shoulders narrowed and his lower abs bowed outward first a little and then a little more. His face twisted in disgust. The beginnings of a pot belly! All over he put on a slight coating of fat. His feet and hands got smaller and his lips got thinner but his nose bigger. His eyes changed color and he gained body hair.
When it was all done, he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror slightly disgusted at this slack, unathletic body he now had. But it was the only way to know just what this sick perv would respond to the most.
He got right to it and started looking at pictures of boys in on line ads. He felt a slight tingle in his diminished penis at the sight of a blond boy in an ad for kids clothes by Ralph Lauren. Merritt thought the problem had been solved right away but realized that skeezy perv Carruthers may already be beating off to ads featuring this boy. The pictures were probably everywhere. He had to find a beautiful boy but also one that Carruthers likely hasn’t seen.
He spent a few hours looking at online ads for foreign clothing brands. At last, he called up a page and gasped. There he was, a boy with a thick crown of blond, wavy hair, striking light blue eyes and a face like he might be Apollo’s 11 and a half year old younger brother. Carruthers’ equipment reacted forcefully. This was the boy. But there were not enough pictures of his body, just his face. Merritt wondered if he could make himself a combination, his own super lean ballet and little league star, fastest boy in the class by far 11 and a half year old body with this boy’s face and hair.
He dove into the Chronivac manual. Sure enough, 2/3 of the way to the back there was a short chapter about combining identities. Mostly it seemed to be about people making themselves animorphic dogs or wolves as examples, but it specifically mentioned that a user could “combine features of one identity, such as face and hair with those of another identity, such as the rest of a body”.
It wasn’t simple. Merritt had to upload every possible picture of this boy, Lucien something or other. They didn’t give his last name and after every upload of a picture, he checked to see if the machine said the biometric data was “sufficient for identity construction”. Finally, after the tenth picture, it said it was.
Merritt then had to go deeper into the menu choices to call for his new identity, he chose the name Derek, at random, for Derek to have the face and hair of this Lucien but his own fantastically athletic body from the neck down. He double checked everything and checked still one more time after that because it was something he’d never tried before with the machine. He didn’t want to bother seeing himself go backward through puberty in rapid motion. He’d gone the other direction over a period of years. There wouldn’t be any surprises for him. He set the Chronivac for instantaneous transformation.
He sighed. He’d be glad to be out of the pathetic Carruthers body he had now. The guy was 25 going on 50, he was so slack and unathletic.
He pressed start and then answered YES to the ‘are you sure’ prompt. An electromagnetic wave passed through him and he was instantly a foot shorter than a second before. He looked around in wonder. The whole apartment and all its contents was suddenly larger. But what he really noticed was the complete change in his mass.
He giggled and trotted to the bathroom where he stepped on the scale. 82 pounds. He did the math in a second. At 5 feet tall and 82 pounds, he was 82% as tall as seconds before but had only 50% of his previous mass.
Merritt giggled. At six foot one, people already described him as wiry and slender. Now he was much more so. And it felt great.
It felt great to be so light. He took a couple running steps through the doorway and into his bedroom. He jumped up on the bed, bouncing over and over again, laughing and laughing at the wonderfully light feeling of his body. In between bounces he gave a slap to his magnificent, almost improbably round little ass. He laughed.
After scores of times jumping up and down on his bed, arms pinwheeling and giggling, Merritt jumped and came down on his ballet dancer derriere at the edge of the mattress bouncing smoothly into a brisk walk back to the bathroom. He gawked at his blue eyed, blond hair framed face.
Merritt had been a handsome boy, but not like this. One ballerina’s mother had summed it up saying that Merrit was “handsome, just not in a way everyone can appreciate. He always looks like he’s thinking.” Merritt’s attractiveness in the ballet studio was more that he had the perfect body to be wearing tights, long legged, slender and wonderfully toned with a tiny waist, square shoulders and an impressively round derriere.
He stared at his new face, leaning closer and closer to the mirror. He tried to find something, anything wrong with it, any flaw, any feature, any proportion that he might change. There was nothing. He was a little demigod of a boy.
Carruthers and Fairfax would be entranced by this sight of this boy. Hell, everyone would. And with that thought, Merritt decided to test out this new identity, “Derek” he was calling himself.
Going through the chronivac menus he had set it up so that everyone would think he, Derek, was Merritt’s nephew and he had changed all of Merritt’s clothes to fit his new 11 and a half year old self, Derek. He opened his closet door and looked at his suits. No longer 40R but whatever boy size he was now. His shirts were no longer 16 – 34’s but some very slender boy version of that. His pants were no longer 30 waist and 36 inch inseam. That waist might be sufficient to contain two of his miniscule midsection now. All his clothes were perfectly scaled to his new skinny boy self.
Merritt put on a pair of chinos, a white button down shirt and a braided leather belt with the extended end beyond the buckle hanging down 8 inches, suggestively, in front of him.
He decided on the mall a couple miles away to the west. It was the easiest one to reach without using a car.
It was obvious right away. He could see it in everyone’s face. Everyone’s. It was like going to a club or a restaurant with Etta. Everyone watched her. Everyone turned to look at her. She had that beautiful woman power that people just couldn’t resist. Gay looked like they felt heterosexual vigor when she passed by. It was amazing.
This was a lesser version of that. He strode briskly past an old woman walking the opposite way and she broke into a grin just looking at him. He walked a little faster than some girls on the other side of the street and he could hear them frantically whisper “Did you see that boy?!”
A fussily dressed man going in the opposite direction on the sidewalk stared at Merritt as he got near and walked right into a parking sign.
Most boys and young men seemed indifferent to the sight of him. Others seemed somehow antagonized. If clerks and cashiers were any nicer to him they’d have given him anything he wanted for free.
Merritt entered the mall and made a beeline for the food court. There must’ve been 150 people there, mostly teen and preteen girls and they all went slightly nuts at the sight of him with his thick crown of wavy blond hair loping along on long, graceful strides. He got himself a cheeseburger and ate at a table at one side of the room. The girls practically buzzed with alerts to each other about “the blond boy over there!”.
Merritt jogged out of there and went to one end of the mall where there was a bookstore that also opened onto the street. There he spent a comfortable hour reading obscure security industry and political magazines that no 11 and a half year old boy would ever have the slightest interest in cracking open. At one point, he looked up from an article and saw three girls, just a little older than him now, maybe 13, staring at him through a glass wall on the mall side of the store. He looked up at them and smiled and nodded. They had some sort of excited reaction and hurried away.
Merritt paid for the magazines and loped up an escalator straight for a store on the other side of the mall. It was a place that sold ballet outfits almost exclusively to girls. But he thought there was an outside chance of him needing to show off his dancing talents to these pervs.
He asked the woman at the register if she could sell him a couple dance belts, tights and slippers. She fawned over him almost excessively, telling him that he would look wonderful in costume. She asked if he took classes already. Merritt said he did but way outside DC. He was visiting his uncle. The woman gratuitously wrapped a tape around his tiny waist when she already knew what size to give him.
Merritt made his way back to his apartment with his ballet clothes and obscure magazines and confirmation that he had made the right choice about the bait to turn himself into so that he could stick around Carruthers and Fairfax. He waited for the next Thursday.