Derrick opened his front door, glancing around his front yard as he grabbed his mail. The large weeping cherry trees blocked his view of
most of the neighborhood, limiting him to a front lawn that desperately needed mowing. (This was not a bad thing, as he was currently in T-
shirt and boxers, having not gotten dressed yet at 10:30 this morning.) A package down on the step caught his eye; he grabbed it and
slipped back inside the house.
He flipped through his bills, mumbling to himself. "Junk, bill, junk, junk, pizza flyer, junk, bill.." He split the bills, throwing them onto a small
pile of other bills on top of the kitchen microwave, or as he called it, his 'next paycheck, whenever that might be' pile. The rest he dumped
into the trash, minus the pizza flyer, which he pinned to the fridge with a magnetic clip.
He turned to the box, hastily dumped on the dining room table. "I wonder what this is? *I* can't afford to buy anything.." The address was
right, but the name on the label was only 'Occupant'. He noticed the delivery label had a 'signature required' mark.
No wonder there, the neighborhood he lived in didn't have the best reputation, and deliveries were notoriously unreliable. Ah well, rent was
cheap. (Utilities sucked, but hey, a whole house to himself!)
Derrick cut open the small box, finding a well-packed styrofoam frame holding a plastic remote and a CD jewel case. No packing sheet,
printed instructions, or anything else. The remote was large, looking more like a graphing calculator than a regular TV remote, with more
buttons and a fairly large LCD screen. The CD case was blank but for the brand-name logo 'Chronivac' and a version number printed on one
corner. The disc inside had the same name and version number, this time with the number hand-written, and a 'PC/Mac Compatible' label.
Perplexed, Derrick climbed the stairs to his computer room/studio. Soda cans piled the desktop, while his drafting desk was covered in
boxes, art supplies, and loose papers. He popped the laptop open, plugging in the detached USB keyboard and setting it in front of the
scuffed MacBook Pro. Three keys on the regular keyboard were missing, victims of a friend's careless soda spill.
The disc spun to life, and a prompt came up, "Would you like to install the Chronivac Transformation Software Package?"
So.. a morphing program? Derrick was a digital artist, freelance. (Not a *successful* one, mind you, but that takes time..) He had registered
on a few sites, gotten a few promo magazines and such, this was probably the same thing. Worth checking out, at least, he reasoned.
He hit 'Yes', entered his password, and away it went. While it installed, he read the little diagrams that flickered by as the installation
continued. They showed some (rather impressive, near-photo-realistic) CG figures progressing from shrimpy, average builds into blown-up
bodybuilders, or from men into women. Other little boxes described details of height, weight, muscle mass, gender, sexuality (how does
sexuality come across in a 3D model?), hairyness, gender endowments, even species. One of the later sequences showed a man being turned
into a lion, progressing through a really good-looking anthropomorphic stage.
The diagrams also explained the remote, stating it was an advanced full-body scanner and emitter. Scanner he could buy, but emitter? It
must be a projector, one of those small-scale ones he'd seen described as an emerging technology for cellphones that never seemed to
catch on, and it had the ability to modify a given model on the fly. The scanning mode was capable of taking full, high-resolution scans,
even through clothing.
Derrick finished the install, and decided to make a small test of it. He set the emitter on his desk, set the scanner to go off in ten seconds,
and moved to the scanning area.
Derrick was not what you'd expect when someone said they were a recently-graduated freelance artist. Some might expect a skinny, gawky
type, weighing around 120 lbs. soaking wet, in trendy skinny jeans, maybe a hipster-type in ironic T-shirts or flannel, with thick-rimmed
glasses, gauged ears, and a cap over shaggy hair. There were certainly plenty of those in his graduating class. (It was art school, what do you
expect?)
Derrick was not that. Derrick stood 6'2", weighing in at around 340 lbs. A good portion of that was fat, but he had a really
large-proportioned, solid frame under it all, broad shoulders, wide hips, big hands and feet, and a large head. Eschewing the common
hoodies of his peers, he favored heavy wide-leg jeans and rock T-shirts, or often henley, leaving the buttons open in front. He was hairy, to
a degree, but pale-skinned and blond, meaning what he did have was not visible more than a pace away. To his mixed consternation and
excitement, he was growing hair on his back, which he was proud of, but he also knew it was something most people found disgusting. He
generally wore a beard, either a goatee, or often a full beard.
Masculinity was a point of pride for Derrick. He grew up in eager anticipation of growing into a massive, muscular bear of a man. Now in his
late twenties, he'd achieved a good portion of what he wanted, but not in full. His beard didn't really fill out like he wanted, and he had little
to no sideburns to speak of. His chest had a few sparse hairs spread around, and a little patch in the center, but he'd always wanted a rug on
his chest that spilled over his collar. And despite wearing size 15 shoes, he was only modestly endowed. He was stronger than most, but
Derrick knew he wasn't exactly Mr. Olympia.
Derrick had one big problem, which had been the root of a good portion of his life's problems and difficulties. He was an amputee, with his
right leg chopped down at the ankle, the result of a series of surgeries to correct a major birth defect which had never panned out. In his
youth, his prosthesis had never been quite right for his growing body, leaving him unable to join in a lot of gym activity for the soreness it
inflicted. This led him to be sedentary from grade school on, leading to his discovery of art and computers, but also leading to weight gain
and general poor health.
He heard the 'ping' of the scanning software, and shivered. A brief tingle passed over him, but he shook it off. Odd nerve effects at his age
and weight weren't uncommon, but he grimaced at another sign of bad health.
He sat back down at his computer, looking at an astounding 3D image of himself. Highly detailed, better in full motion than most high-end
Poser *renders*, the spinning figure was him, in full detail, entirely nude. Even then prosthetic was gone, and his stump, scarred, calloused,
and entirely familiar to him, was fully detailed with every flaw intact, the figure standing on one center-balanced left leg.
Derrick grimaced at the sight of his full figure. The rolls of fat on his midsections, while not unfamiliar, were not pleasant to look at.
A list of details was written in the top left corner:
Name: Derrick Kimble
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Weight: 244 lbs.
Height: 6'2"
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual (straight-acting)
Muscle/Fat Ratio: 4:3
BIRTH DEFECT (Right leg, amputated, prosthetic)
His eyes popped at all the info. All this, from a scan? He cringed at the sexuality part, he had suspected he might be gay for some time now,
but hadn't really had a chance to explore it in person one way or another. (He'd rationalized to himself for years that his fetish for hairy
muscle guys was just a self-desire thing..)
Derrick saw a list of collapsable menus on the right side of the screen, listing details like Appearance, Personality, Background, and a bunch
of others. As he moused over to them, the cursor passed over the figure, highlighting various body parts.
Passing over his right leg, the glow took on a bright red tone, and a pop-up appeared.
"Repair birth defect?"
Derrick's eyes bugged out for a second. But, of course the software could correct imbalances in the body type, all it had to do was copy the
3D data from one side to the other and stitch the mesh back together. He clicked 'Yes', and paused, watching the model's right leg expand
to match the left. They even mixed it up, removing and adding little imperfections like that little mole on his left calf, which didn't show up
on the model's right.
'Calculating effect of repair on body type...'
The figure seemed a lot better balanced on two legs. The right thigh, which was noticeably smaller than the left, bulked up to match. It took
a few seconds, but he also realized the whole figure was losing a bit of fat. The weight on the left jittered, rising as the full leg grew in, but
dropping as the belly and ass of the figure shrunk slightly.
In the end, the weight settled at 352, six pounds heavier, but the figure looked a lot better. Derrick guessed the model had lost maybe 10 or
15 pounds of fat, but gained it back and more in muscle and bone on the new leg.
A new pop-up appeared. 'Apply all changes?' Below this was two drop-downs, labelled 'User Aware', currently set to Yes, and 'Reality Shift',
currently set to Yes. There were also two locked sliders, 'Duration', set to Permanent, and 'Time', set to 5 minutes. He hit the second drop-
down, and wondered at the meaning of the different options, a vague, impossible concept tugging at his thoughts. He pushed it aside and
settled for 'Unexplained but expected', and clicked Yes.
Transformation starting in 5.. 4..
Just then, a horrible pain stabbed through Derrick's right leg. It was like a cramp in every muscle of his right leg, even the inactive ones, plus
a bone-deep ache that vibrated from the end of his stump, past his knees, and into his hips and spine.
He climbed his way to his feet, and stumbled to the small couch next to his drafting desk. He pulled off his fake leg and began massaging
the muscles through the prosthetic sock, digging deep to try to knead out the pain.
It didn't seem to do any good, but the pain began to fade on its own. He laid back as the ache continued to diffuse, his eyes tightly shut, his
breathing heavy.
After a couple minutes, Derrick opened his eyes, to be greeted by the most amazing, impossible sight.
His right leg, or rather, his foot, growing at a visible rate, the visible spread of toes stretching the prosthetic sock. He tensed what he had
always considered the analogous muscle to squeezing his toes together on the left, and watched as the foot jerked up. New sensations came
to him, as his leg finished growing, and he found he could suddenly feel his right toes- HIS TOES!!
He gave a deep, shuddering breath, and reached forward, ripping off the ill-fitting prosthetic sock to be greeted by his toes. Just like his left,
they were large, strong, with pale hair on each toe knuckle, and thick, soft nails on each toe. He wiggled them, and giggled at the sight. He
pulled his leg up over his left knee, exploring every inch of the strange, new, but still familiar limb.
Tears flooded his eyes, and he ran his fingers up the rest of the leg, finding it just as if he'd always been this way, sparse hair over the foot
and lower leg, with no signs of the many surgical scars he'd borne all his life.
Minutes later, Derrick pulled himself together, taking a deep breath and getting to his feet. He stepped daintily on his new leg, getting used
to the weight and feel. He took one step, stumbled a bit, then another, and another, and began walking around the house, down the hall,
descending stairs. He stopped himself from going outside, and scrambled back up the stairs, finding a pair of cargo shorts. Not bothering
with shoes, he pulled on the shorts and sped back to the front door, securing his keys in a pocket. Stepping out the front door, he practically
skipped down the front steps, heading for the overgrown lawn.
A sudden sharp pain stabbed him in the sole of his new right foot, and he dropped, quickly sitting down, checking his new foot for damage.
A small, rounded stone had dug into the bottom of his arch, but brushed off without incident. From his sitting position, he reached his legs
out, putting his feet onto the shaggy grass. He luxuriated in the sensation, blades of grass sticking up between his toes. He pushed himself
to his feet, and took a few steps around.
More tears came to his eyes, but he quickly pulled himself together, and headed back inside.
As he stepped back inside, his eyes widened. He realized what this meant.
He could change things. About himself, about his life. He could fix all the shit that had happened, he could make his dreams come true. Hell,
with this Chronivac, he could make his *fantasies* come true, and live out all those things which excited him in ways he rarely admitted.
But he had to be careful.