The questions, "How long do I want to remain the way I am? Or should I leave myself this way?" circled his thoughts as he absently tapped a finger against his cheek and stared at his laptop screen. Having no answer right away, Patrick stared to save and close his profile, but, at the last minute, altered his vocal patterns, then the size of his hands, feet and shoulders. Making them more proportionate to his new body size, he checked it over, noted how his hands would now be small, dainty, feminine, whilst his shoe size would drop to a size four, he made sure the change would be slow, taking only an hour or so, wouldn’t be too uncomfortable, only he’d be aware of them, and satisfied, he confirmed the new choices, saved his profile and closed the programme.
A glance at the clock in the upper corner of his laptop screen, Patrick noted the time and hungry, he put the machine into sleep mode before heading for the kitchen to get something to eat. Not expecting his mom home, as she would be working late again, he scrounged around the fridge for something to eat for lunch. Settling on fixing himself a sandwich, he observed as he did how he took almost three-quarters less than what he usually took, which left him wondering if this was a side-effect of the changes he'd made. Wanting to know what other things had shifted, he took his lunch and wandered into the TV room. There, he paused and as he ate, he studied the pictures his mother had arranged around the room.
Each one depicting Patrick by himself or with his mother, he took in how they all showed him from an early age, with the earliest about one or two, to his current age of almost eighteen. The person in each photograph looking more and more feminine as they grew up until the photos could be of a flat-chested girl, Patrick wasn't the least bit surprised he could recall the holidays, the vacations his mum and he had taken, all when each picture was taken. Looking at the pictures of himself wearing various Hallowe'en costumes, noting how the selections ranged from something a boy would wear, a pirate costume, a cowboy costume, him dressed as Spider-man, to costumes a girl would wear, a fairy, a princess, Spider-Gwen, Patrick finished his sandwich as he reflected on how easy it had been for him to pass for a little girl each time, as well as how he'd insisted on going full-in with the costumes and had even worn girl's panties.
Conflicted about this, whether it was a good thing or not, Patrick stopped after a bit when he noticed in some of the pictures it wasn't merely his mother and him. Studying a picture of him dressed as a pastel-coloured unicorn, standing next to a girl dressed as a pastel-coloured winged horse, he could've sworn he'd just looked at the image and the girl hadn't been there. Shaking his head, wondering if reality was altering itself before his very eyes, he recalled her name, Tammy, how they'd known each other since first meeting in kindergarten, and that she'd been born a he, but had started to transition a few months before meeting Patrick, despite her parent's displeasure and objections. Thinking about all the times they'd spent together, how they were still friends, how she was sometimes was jealous of how natural Patrick looked whilst she had to take pills and really work to make herself passable, he went back over the photographs, and noted the ones she was now in.
Now convinced more than ever reality was morphing around him, he stopped and reflection on what he was seeing and experiencing. Thinking back to the questions he had about himself, he discovered he was still questioning his sexual identity, whilst telling himself he didn't want to be a girl still rang false somehow.
"If not more so," he mused aloud as his thoughts leapt to the swimsuit-style bodysuit.
Mind reeling as new memories inserted themselves, Patrick suddenly turned, looked about, and spotting a picture from last year, he recalled how, with his mother's help, he'd bought the bodysuit and a costume to go with it, and the way he and Tammy had gone to a Hallowe'en party dressed as two harem girls, though they'd called themselves genies whenever anyone asked. Looking at the photo, seeing two girls pictured, trying to see himself as they boy he actually was, and failing, Patrick backed away until his legs struck the couch. Sitting down, it all too much to take in at once, he moaned, "What have I done to myself," and lying down, he grabbed a pillow and curled around it.
Oblivious to how, with the way he was lying on the couch, he looked even more like a girl, Patrick tried to sort out how he was feeling and all he was experiencing. More memories coming back to them, some painful, like when his dad disappeared, or the handful of times he'd been teased because of much he looked like a girl, they seemed to be outweighed by all the good ones of times spent with his mum as she taught him various things ranging from life-skills to how to deal with people who teased him for his looks to her acceptance of not only him, but also Tammy. Smiling as he recalled, before he'd used the Chronivac, how he'd always been worried about the size of his cock and balls, to the point he refused to change in the locker room, but now, it didn't seem important whether his male junk measured up to what other guys had, he tossed aside the pillow and sat up. Looking about the room, then down at himself, he took a deep breath, and for the first time in he didn't know how, Patrick discovered he was at ease.
"It doesn't matter," he decided as he thought about questions in regard to who he was, the worries he'd experienced about the Chronivac and his use of it, nor anything about how he appeared.
With a quick, decisive movement, he stood and headed out of the TV room and back to his bedroom. There, he woke his laptop up, and double-clicking on the icon for the Chronivac, he checked the progress of his current change, then, feeling for the first time certain about something in regard to the programme, he set his current profile as the default one, deleting in the process his old profile, making it impossible for him to ever go back to who he used to be.
Satisfied he'd done the right thing, he saved and exited the programme. Returning his laptop to its sleep mode, he leaned back in his desk chair and gently swivelled it back and forth. Peering at his room as he did, seeing how everything was now unisex, with only a few things overtly feminine, such as the comforter and sheets he had on his bed, Patrick noted how the bodysuit had disappeared. Recalling it was folded up and stored in his closet, he put the matter from his thoughts and instead asked himself, "Is there anything else I want to do with the Chronivac? Or should I leave things as they are," and mulling this over, he stopped the chair in mid-movement, reached for the phone on his desk, and punching in a now familiar number, he waited for Tammy to pick up.
When she at last did answer, Patrick, an idea already starting to form, asked her, "Hey, you busy? Wanna hang out?" his voice lightened, shifted octave and pitch as he did until it sounded as if it was almost a girl’s voice.