He could tell there was something wrong with Patricia. But the problem was, Mark had no idea how best to approach his teenage daughter and ask what was the matter and if there was anything he could do. Maybe, about six or so years ago, when she'd been going through her tomboy phase, he might have been able to. But since she'd started to the transition to become a mature, young woman, the closest they'd once had had widened.
When he'd broached the subject at one point with June, his wife had smiled and told him, "This is normal," before proceeding to explain. Yet, even with what she'd said, he was still unsettled with how there seemed to be something bothering their daughter. And in the end, he thought the matter settled when June agreed to talk with the teenage girl and find out if anything was the matter.
But it wasn't. Whether June talked to her or, something Mark felt certain his wife had, there still seemed to be something wrong with Patricia. He was able to see it in the worried look on her face, pick up on it by her actions, most of which he sussed out was her coming off as being distracted by something or other, among other clues he picked up over the course of four months or so. Deciding one Saturday to broach the subject, he went up to her bedroom, and knocked. Calling out, "Patricia?" as he did, he watched as the door swung open, revealing his teenage daughter's empty room. Figuring she must have gone somewhere, he was about to turn and head back downstairs, as there was stuff for the printing company he worked for he'd brought home to deal with over the weekend, but instead stopped.
Peering into the room, seeing his daughter's room as if for the first time in some time, he couldn't help himself as he felt a little nostalgic. Almost gone were the usual tomboy decorations, replaced by items which spoke volumes of how one was seeing a teenage girl's bedroom. There were a few hints Mark could see which told of who Patricia had been when she was younger, with the biggest being the laptop. Staring at the machine, he smiled as he remembered how the two of them had put it together, after Patricia had saved up to buy the parts, or scrounged them up from places which had been tossing them out. Thinking how excited they'd been when the machine had turned on for the first time, and the games they'd played on it, Mark stepped into the girl's room. Heading over to the desk, he peered down at the home-built machine, but didn't touch it.
It didn't seem right to go snooping about, and whatever Patricia now used the machine for, he figured it was her business. "So long as it's not illegal," he thought to himself as he took a final look about, turned to leave, and stopped when he saw the computer disk lying out.
The blue side up, he at first thought it must be a Blu-Ray movie, and Patricia must have upgraded the machine at some point to play movies. Picking it up, seeing the word "Chronivac" printed on it, he wondered what sort of movie it was, and about to return it to where he found it, Mark instead exited the room with the disk.
Downstairs in his office, he inserted the disk into the computer tower he used for a number of things, but mostly working from home, and watched as the PC downloaded a programme onto itself. When it was finished, he stared blankly at the new icon, unsure what it was he'd put on the computer. Ejecting the disk, he took it back to his daughter's bedroom, left it where he'd found it, and went back to his office. Double-clicking on the new icon, no longer believing the disk had had a movie on it, he was surprised when the camera on the computer scanned him and he saw, the moment the programme was open, a complete profile of himself.
Like his son-turned-daughter before him, Mark couldn't believe what it was he was seeing and after some time, muttered, "No fucking way."
Unsure why Patricia would have such a programme, Mark's thoughts leapt to how she wanted to change something about herself after some time. Believing what he had was something which generated a mock-up so a surgery specialist would know what to change, his first instinct was to go find Patricia and demand to know what she was doing with such a programme, if she was considering surgery of sort, and inform her she ought to be happy with who she was and how she looked. But, as he read more of his profile, he mellowed and soon thought this was something him and his wife should talk about, at which point then June could talk with Patricia. Feeling this was the best way to handle the situation, he almost closed and deleted the programme, but instead continued to flip though the option.
He of course had no issue with who he was and how he looked. Yet, at the same time, considered it fun to add and deleted things from his profile. Seeing as much like the characters he used to create when he'd been Patricia's age, and his high school buddies still had time for table-top RPGs, he snickered a little as he shifted his sex and gender to female, reduced his age to five, removed his need for glasses, then redesigned his profile so he was an anthropomorphic white mouse. Toggling through more things, he didn't understand why it needed it, but he set the max height at four foot ten inches, max weight at ninety-one point four pounds, breast size double B for the top two and triple A for the bottom four, and he would lithe and athletic. Finishing this, he set the current height for the character thirty-seven inches, weight thirty-two point six, and from the option available gave them a pear-shaped body they'd eventually grow out of. Giving her a personality of being tomboyish, as this was something he kind of understood, he also gave her an interest in ballet and gymnastics, as well as made her intelligent. Redesigning the clothes, Mark selected a long-sleeve, white bodysuit with snaps in the crotch area and a hole in the back for the tail, as well as a black jumpsuit, also with a hole for the tail, and a pair of sneakers specially crafted for her digitigrade feet.
With the utmost care in how he drafted what he saw as a character he might save when finished, but would likely delete afterward, he added details to the personality, toggled on an option he didn't really understand which would make it so nobody would see it as odd an anthropomorphic mouse existed and was being raised by two human parents, who loved, adored, and doted on their adopted daughter. Switching the option so only he'd be aware of the changes, again, something he didn't know why the programme had such an option, as he still saw it as something to generate a profile to bring to a surgery specialist, and thus everyone would be aware of the changes, Mark went back over what he created. Snickering some more at what he saw, he muttered, "This is so ridiculous," and hovering the mouse pointed over the X in the top right corner, he also closed the programme.
But, at the last minute, figuring he might as well get to work, he glanced over the new profile, made a few last-minute adjustments, then figuring he'd let June know about it later, he saved and closed the profile and programme. About to scroll over and click on the icon for the company he worked for, he stopped when his vision suddenly went blurry. Frowning, taking off his glasses, finding everything was crystal clear the moment he did, he had but a split second to wonder why this was before, without any warning, he was overcome with a crippling discomfort. Pushing away from the desk as he doubled over, he had only a fraction of a second to grow concerned as white fur started to sprout across his already morphing hands before he squeezed his eyes shut and opened his mouth in a gasp as he his face pushed outward to form a small, rounded muzzle. Slipping from his desk chair, Mark dropped to knees, then to his hands and knees. Spreading his legs, he stretched out as far as he could, which helped eleviate some of the discomfort as his tailbone started to extend, he feet and hands finished morphing, and his height and weight dropped.
"What, is, happening, to, me," he gasped out after a bit, all too aware of how he could feel a ticklish sensation within his body as the female reproductive organs formed whilst he was painfully aware of how it felt as if someone was tugging downward on his cock and balls, pulling them between his legs, then pressing them up against the area there.
Ears rounding as his privates shifted and his body reorganised itself till it was pear-shaped, Mark would have been even more surprised, if his eyes were open, to see how reality was altering itself around him. His office vanishing, the room he was in rearranged itself as a girl's bed appeared, along with a toy chest, dresser, and various bits of decorations and such until where he was had become a bedroom of a five-year-old girl.
The discomfort he was in lessening, Mark was at first relieved as he pushed himself into a squatting position. But what he was feeling didn't last long as he became aware of differences in his body, the way his clothes now felt, and pressed into him, as well as what was clearly a tail brushing against the now carpeted floor. Snapping his eyes open, he looked down and stared open mouthed first at his hands, then at what he was now wearing. Looking wildly about, not seeing his office, Mark leapt up the instant he spotted the mirror hanging on the back of the closet door, and hurrying across the room, he stared agog at the reflection. Seeing a pretty mouse-girl looking back at him, knowing her name was Sophia Katrine Weaton, he looked down at himself, back the reflection, placed a dainty girl's hand betwixt his legs, felt his privates, and squeaked, "Oh, my, god. It's more than what I thought," in what was clearly a young girl's voice before it suddenly hit him as he felt his mind changing, he stared at the reflection, at the bedroom, then back at the reflection - he had no way to change himself back.