Wonderbolt Down

by Rebonack


Wherein Interesting Things Happen

Day Two
Twenty Three Days Remain

My alarm wakes me up this time. I had been dreaming about moving away from home to the university dorms except the only clothing that I packed were a bunch of woman’s underwear. Normally I would chalk this up to the usual nonsense that nocturnal visions conjure out of the detritus of my memories but today I have the nagging sense that something is off. I pat at myself and discover a conspicuous absence.

In my panic I end up in a tangled heap on my floor. Trying to leap straight out of bed was probably a bad idea in retrospect.

After disentangling myself from my blankets and sheets I head straight for the bathroom and find myself greeted in the mirror by a woman that I don't know. She looks vaguely familiar. Could probably be my sister if I had one. Her hawk-themed red mane with black and white bars running along the tips is certainly the same cartoonish hair that had staged an invasion of my follicles yesterday. And her huge yellow irises with black scalar scarcely gives her an incredibly intense looking stare.

I notice that my ears are laying back and I'm wearing a grimace. “May as well get this over with,” I sigh and pull my briefs off. Oddly enough the first thing I notice is that in addition to the longer ridge of red hair on my tail a shorter coat of light brown fur has sprouted and migrated up the alien appendage and onto my hips. Despite my sleek new fur coat that is slowly advancing toward my legs my cutie mark is still plainly visible. I guess the color shows up on the fur as well as the skin? Makes sense, how else would you be able to see the mark on the cartoon ponies?

The thought of cartoon ponies having anything to do with reality sends me into another bout of tittering giggles, but I manage to reign it in before it progresses to full on shrieks of manic laughter. Which I good. I don't want to wake the neighbors early Sunday morning.

Okay, so what's next? My nipples have apparently decided to migrate south for the winter and are now chilling by my legs. Which... I guess is where they are on horses? I reach down a hand begin feeling around. No sign of my new- oh wait, there it is. That's way further back than a vagina would be on a human isn't it? My mind wanders back to some of the images I had found on Google the other night and I find myself humming to the thought and feel of having a nice strong stallion back there giving me-ooooh ho ho look at that time for a shower!

I crank the water on and step inside. My mind is whirling with the realization that my gender has been altered along with my sex. The mental alterations creeping into my brain go deep. Deeper than I had dared to consider. That's more than a little jarring. The fantasies I had been entertaining leave me shaking as the warm water rolls off me and drips down my slicked mane.

“I don't know if I can take this. This is going too far!” I cry to the ceiling. “I don't know why this seems more violating than having my species changed against my will, but it does. Being a guy is sort of a major part of my identity as a person,” the lack of familiar anatomy between my legs mocks me. Not anymore it isn't. Lance is slowly dissolving away and pretty soon only Geneva will be left. Will my memories be lost too? Will I completely forget who I was? Or will I be Geneva with Lance's memories? Both outcomes are terrifying for different reasons.

It's almost comical how long it takes me to realize that I have hooves now. Rust red hooves instead of feet with more mottled brown fur slowly creeping up my legs. The bone structure of my legs is changing too, becoming more equine. Compared to my other discoveries hooves are no big deal. Those I was fully expecting. But the crushing blow to my physical and mental identity? Not so much. I clop my new giant middle toes a few times on the shower floor. Thankfully my shower has a seat in it, otherwise it would probably be hard to stand on the slick plastic.

How long do I sit there staring at my hooves? I don't know. The water growing cold is the factor that finally snaps me out of my mental haze. As soon as I start thinking again that awful feeling of helplessness begins crushing the life out of me, pressing me down and insisting that I should just give up. My very soul is being eroded away, why even bother continuing? I'm completely alone. And carrying this burden alone is impossible.

“I can't do this on my own,” I admit to the ceiling. “You're going to have to carry me. And I know you will. You always do.”

I'd like to say say that the despondency evaporated like frost when touched by the sun. I'd like to say that all of the transformations that had been overtaking my body and mind were instantly reversed. But neither of those things happened. There's some small inkling of hope that I'll make it through this somehow, but it feels so inadequate compared to the insanity settling over me.

I drag myself out of the shower, use half my towel supply to dry myself due to all the new hair and fur I'm sporting, and start getting dressed. How on earth am I supposed to do this? Shoes are going to be basically impossible. My feet and legs are all the wrong shape, so I'm going to have to go without. And I don't want to cram my tail down my pant leg. That hurts and besides which it would ruin the whole cosplayer vibe I'm going to shoot for. In a flash of inspiration I put a pair of briefs on backwards and pull my tail through the hole intended for anatomy I no longer have. I follow suit with a pair of jeans and use a belt to secure them. Ha ha! I've successfully put on pants despite having a tail!

I revel in my small triumph and then pick out a shirt and jacket, making sure to select something I don't typically wear. My church is a bit on the casual side, but I always liked to dress up at least a little as my dapper hat collection should imply. Sadly any of my head wear is out of the question today. My hats are fairly iconic and any of them would be recognized. Now fully dressed I inspect myself in my mirror. I honestly doubt that anyone I know would recognize me. I'll have to pitch my voice up a bit to avoid suspicions, though. Or just avoid talking too much. Either of those should work.

With a bit of time left I grab a light breakfast and look up some information on hippogriffs. Who knows, it might come in handy? Authoritative sounding mythological facts will help make for a better excuse when someone inevitably asks what I'm supposed to be dressed up as. Much to my surprise I discover that fake ears controlled by thought are actually a thing that people buy for cosplay! That adds another layer of plausibility. There are tails too, but they really don't compare to the real thing. So long as kids don't decide to yank on my spine extension I should be fine. Time for operation Ruffle Some Feathers to commence!

I park a comfortable distance from the church and walk the rest of the way since I don't want my car to be recognized. It's uncanny how natural walking on hooves feels, but I can tell a bipedal gait is going to be getting really unwieldy eventually. I try to act as natural as a person with a tail possibly can, giving a friendly wave when people turn and stare. Just pretend that nothing is out of the ordinary and people will assume that nothing is out of the ordinary. Sort of like Fight Club. You just don't talk about it.

More than a few people stop dead in their tracks or step aside as I walk past, eyes following me and trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Up the front stairs I clop and offer a kind, “Good morning,” to the fellow greeting at the door. I think his name is Peter? I'm notoriously awful at remembering names. But that should serve me well since I'm Geneva and I don't know anyone here. Wink wink.

Peter looks away from the gentlemen he was talking to and begins to say, “Good morning! Welcome to...” he kinda trails off when he sees me, one hand holding a church bulletin halfway between himself and me. I smile and flick one of my ears. Much to his credit he manages to gather his bearings. “Uh. You aren't panning on causing any trouble, are you miss?”

I give a good natured laugh. “Nah, I'm just going to sit near the back so I won't be too disruptive. Getting this look right takes a lot of work and I didn't want to take it apart just to come here.”

Technically true! Taking it apart would require major reconstructive surgery and since my transformation may or may not be the result of wily alien hobgoblin magical genetic engineering that might not even help.

Peter is skeptical, but he nods slowly and hands me the bulletin. “Alright, enjoy the service.”

A quick thank you later I'm inside and sitting down at the back wall. I'm still pretty early since I didn't want to come trotting in here at the last minute and shock everyone. If I'm just a fixture at the back of the church when people are still coming in that should give them time to get use to me. Maybe. That's the plan at least. The band is up front practicing for the actual service. Full band, mind you. Guitar, bass, keyboard, drum set, the works. It's a contemporary church, you see. No pews or stained glass windows or anything like that. The sort of church that tends to attract fewer people who might fall over dead at any moment. Which of course means a younger congregation, which of course means more children running around.

Running around is exactly what the children are doing. Sunday school won't start for another half an hour or so and that means kids are still zooming about between the rows of chairs. They're laughing, giggling, and generally being children. I find myself smiling longingly at them. It sure would be nice to have some foals of my own some da-Gah! I stop, take a deep breath, and focus my mind. I've been female for a couple of hours and I'm already thinking about having kids? Children in the middle of whatever the hell is happening to me and who knows how many other people is pretty much the worst idea possible right now.

I'm so caught up reigning in my hormones that I don't even notice three little munchkins stop to stare at me. “You look weird,” comes the declaration followed by some giggling.

My eyes pop open and I hear some little gasps. Guess they haven't ever seen a lady with hawk eyes before. “Well thank you!” I reply brightly. I know these kids. Stella, Aaron, and Kylee. I actually ran their Sunday School class for a little while. Aaron begins reaching for the end of my tail and I flick it away, causing his eyes to widen a bit.

“You can move it?” he asks curiously. “How do you do that?”

“It's a really fancy tail,” I reply matter of factly. The little boy nods in understanding as though I had actually answered his question.

“Can I touch it?”
“What are you supposed to be?”
“Your hair looks pretty!”

Wuh oh. More of the kids have spotted me and I'm starting to become the center of attention. Parents are apparently off busy chatting with each other or seeing to various church functions. If they weren't then the children would probably be getting herded elsewhere and warned to leave the weird cosplaying woman alone.

“Alright, you can touch it,” I finally concede as I swish my tail out where they swarm of munchkins can reach it with their sticky child fingers. “But just don't pull on it, alright?”

I'm pleasantly surprised when they don't. Instead they all start petting it as if it were an exotic and fragile fuzzy animal. It actually feels really nice and I can't help but start grinning like an idiot.

Aaron pokes at me again. “What are you supposed to be, lady?”

“Well, my name isn't 'Lady'. It's Geneva. And I'm a hippogriff,” I reply to several sets of blank stares. One of the children begins to giggle and I quickly make the clarification to correct her likely mistake. “Not a hippopotamus. They aren't related. A hippogriff is a cross between a lion, a horse, and an eagle.”

“Is that why you have hooves on your feet?”
“How come you don't have any wings?”
“Hehe! The poof on your tail is soft!”
“I really like your mane!”

I can't help but laugh at the attention and enthusiasm. That's kids for you. You drop something in front of them and they just take it as face value. Unless of course it's another child who is somehow outside of the group norm, then they get ostracized. Thankfully I don't fall under that category.

“Yes, that's why I'm wearing hooves. And I don't have any wings because they aren't finished yet,” I say. Ha! They sure aren't finished yet. I wonder if they'll start growing in today or tomorrow? My left eye twitches ever so slightly at that thought, but once again I shoo away the looming specter of mental breakdown. I already had one of those in the shower. I don't have time for another.

One of the children is in the process of lifting up my hoof to look at the bottom of it when the fun police arrives. The officer of the law today is a older woman I recognize the face of, but I can't place her name for the life of me. Her expression is no nonsense and she's got that mother bear vibe going on. The sort of look a parent gets when they think someone is putting their children in danger.

“You kids head off to class,” she says in a tone that bides no argument. “I have to talk with this young lady about grown up things.”

A chorus of 'aaww...'s sound from the children and little Stella waves as she and the others scamper off. “Bye Geneva!”

When I start to wave back, the woman-I-still-can't-recall-the-name-of levels a withering glare at me.

“I don't know what you're playing at, young lady,” she hisses. “But you will stay away from the children. You're not going to be putting any crazy ideas into their heads, do I make myself clear?”

I shrink down into my chair as my ears go flat. Geeze this feels awful. I wasn't doing anything creepy, was I? Though I guess in this context just being way out of the norm would seem threatening. Thankfully I've been doing the church thing long enough to know just the right cards to play and words to say.

“Ah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. They all came up to me, you know how kids are,” I reply lamely. “I'm just going through a whole lot right now. And I'm really looking for some answers. I was kind of hoping I might be able to find them here.”

That did it. Her expression softens and with a sigh she sits down next to me. I had just transitioned from 'creepy cosplayer' to 'person who needs religious counseling.'

“Listen, miss... Geneva was it?” she begins. “I don't want to make you feel unwelcome here. Far from it. But you have to admit that you do look a little strange in that costume.”

“You don't know the half of it...” that gets an odd look and so I continue. I can feel a nagging sort of resolution building inside me, pushing me toward action. I only consider it for a moment before deciding to act on it. “I promise I'm not here to make trouble. Or to do anything weird at the kids. Or encourage anyone to start worshiping the devil or anything crazy like that. I just want to stay for the service and then talk to someone about what I'm going through.”

What I'm really going through.

There. I said it. I'm going to put my trust in someone who isn't inexplicably turning into a cartoon character. And I hope I don't get burned because of it.

The woman gives me a sympathetic look. “Alright honey, I'll take your word for it. I'm still not sure how I feel about the kids being near you though. That costume is a little too lifelike for my tastes. It's downright creepy is what it is.”

My attempt to assuage her fears with a few reassuring words is cut short before it even begins by my treacherous tail flipping back and forth of its own accord. I grab the blasted thing to try to hold it still, but the tip keeps twitching. Then my ears pin back and I give a sheepish smile as I feel nervous tension coiling in my gut.

I swear to God my tail is trying to get me killed.

“Ah. Hahaha! Sorry. This thing kind of has a mind of its own. Still working out some of the bugs,” I say awkwardly before shooting my tail a death-glare. It finally stops wriggling around.

“Mm hmm,” the mystery woman replies skeptically. “Well, I'm Linda. And I'm sure someone would be happy to talk to you after service.”

Linda! That's right, she's Stella's grand mother. No wonder she was giving me the stink-eye. Her grand daughter had been playing with my mane.

“Of course it just wouldn't be proper to have pastor Chuck talk to you one on one,” Linda muses.

Wait, what? Why not? I've talked to Chuck plenty of times alone and otherwise.

“You being a woman and, well. You know,” Linda continues, waving one hand dismissively.

What. Seriously? Is she afraid that I'm going to try to seduce the pastor with my wicked cosplayer charm or something? Chuck is married and I'm pretty well over twice my age. The, uh, the fact that I'm finding myself attracted to pony stallions probably makes him safe, too. She must be able to tell that this is bothering me, I can see it in her expression.

“Don't worry dear, if you want to speak to the pastor then there just needs to be someone else in the room for accountability's sake. I'm sure you understand,” Linda assures me pleasantly.

“Of course, I understand,” I reply in kind, doing my best to keep my voice level. I can feel the irritation and offense creeping about in my mind. As a guy I could confide whatever I wanted with Chuck and it would just be between himself and me. But the moment I've got a vagina? Hoo! Now all bets are off. I might be an untrustworthy female of some kind. Some part of me understands that it's a safety precaution ostensibly to ward off sex scandals, but I can't help but feel demeaned by it. Mostly because it seems about as likely as the pastor getting the lovings on with a gay man in his office.

My tail is lashing about in anger. Which really isn't helping.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, nodding slowly. I need to calm down here. Blowing up at the Patriarchy isn't going to win me any support. Eventually my tail settles down as well. It must be like my ears. The thing just responds to my emotional state without me really putting into conscious thought into it.

“Thank you, Linda. Having someone to talk to will be really nice,” I finally manage to say, my voice completely sincere.

The elderly woman responds with a nod. “I'm glad I could help, Geneva. You enjoy the service now.”

And with that I'm alone again. A few children briefly return to pet my tail until they are run off by their parents and I get a few positive remarks regarding my 'costume'. One of the band members even has me pose for a picture with him. Several people give me scrutinizing looks before deciding to ignore my existence. But otherwise the next half an hour or so is remarkably uneventful. The music starts up and I'm pleasantly surprised that my voice isn't totally shot from the gradual metamorphosis. I'm pretty sure that I can hit some high notes that I usually can't without my voice cracking.

Then comes the fun part. Meet and greet. For the next fifteen minutes church members are supposed to mill around, chatter with friends and acquaintances they haven't seen in the past week, and say hello to any new folks or visitors. I may as well have a giant flashing neon sigh above my head. It isn't every week that someone shows up in the building with 'animatronic' ears and tail. I find that introducing myself as Geneva comes really naturally and no one shows any sign of recognizing me. Not even several long time friends. I'm sure whether to feel hurt or relieved.

I end up explaining what a hippogriff is at least a dozen times. Half horse half griffin symbol of love triumphing over the impossible. No, the wings aren't finished yet. Please don't touch the tail. Yes you can buy ears similar to these online. No you can't try mine on. I'm too attached to them, you see. It's for a thing, a lot of people are doing it. Yeah, you might see a few others around town. Though things get really interesting when my childhood friend Lewis starts talking to me.

“So you're Geneva, right? I'm Lewis. That's a really cool costume. Pretty gutsy wearing it here. So, uh,” Lewis pauses, rubbing at the back of his neck and looking everywhere except at me. There's a slight flush to his cheeks.

Oh God help me. I recognize that body language. He thinks I'm cute. I'm sitting here hanging onto my tail with a death grip and staring like a deer in the headlights of a semi. I can feel a manic smile growing on my face and hairs popping out of position in my mane.

“So there's this young adult Bible study tomorrow night over at my friend Lance's apartment,” Lewis continues. “I was wondering if maybe you might like to come?”

I make a strangled squawking noise that's vaguely hawk like and rather awkward. You might say it sounded hawkward.

Teehee, hawkward. I titter at my clever pun.

In light of all the rampant insanity that had been laying siege against every rampart of normalcy in my life I completely forgot that the study was at my apartment on Monday. Would I even be vaguely human looking by Monday night? Maybe I should just shut off all my lights and pretend I'm not there. Or flee town and hide in the woods for the rest of forever.

Another hair springs free from my normally ordered mane.

I swear to God it makes a cartoony springing noise when it does.

Lewis is starting to look uncertain. “So, uuhh... There'll be free pizza?”

“That sounds GREAT!” I reply a little more forcefully than I had intended to. “Just great. A really great thing to do with a great new friend! You just tell me the address of this other friend of yours that I don't know and I'll meet you there!”

Lewis is absolutely bewildered by my odd behavior and gives me the address to my own apartment. I don't think I'll have any trouble finding it.

At about this time everyone is directed back to their seats and pastor Chuck begins the announcements. I hurry out the back of the sanctuary and into the lady's room. Thankfully it's empty.

“Come on Geneva, breath,” I mutter as I rest my head up against one of the mirrors. I turn the water on and begin splashing myself in the face. Calm. Calm. Just calm down. Everything is going to be fine. I can figure this out. It isn't the end of the world. You know these people and they'll listen to you. Right? Right. With my resolution and determination slowly rising I face my reflection again.

I spot a pair of bright lavender eyes and an absurdly large grin staring over my shoulder in the mirror.

“Surprise!”

I will admit that my shriek was very girly.

Surprise is dressed in baggy sweats with her tail stuffed down her pants and a beany over her head to cover her ears. She had also somehow figured out how to cram her hooves into shoes. It couldn't possibly be comfortable.

“Wow! Looking good Geneva!” the insane poofy-maned woman giggles.

“Surprise,” I hiss as soon as my heart rate downgrades to 'Olympic Marathon' from 'Running For Your Life From an Angry Moose'. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to use the bathroom! And since you were in here anyway I decided to say hi!” Surprise replies matter of factly.

My left eye twitches at her non-answer. I'm pretty sure she didn't know that I attend here. But apparently that won't stop her from popping out of the aether to scare my tail off. Speaking of, the whole thing is frizzed up like a racoon's.

I take a deep breath and count to ten before speaking again. “What did you want to talk about, Surprise?”

“Oooh, Dusty and I decided to stop by that one feed store and get a bunch of neat stuff while you're here! We figured you wouldn't be interested in that since you've got that whole lion/eagle/rawr! vibe going on!” Surprise babbles. “After we're done there we're going for a CostCo run and you can meet us there!”

“Eerr, right,” I reply, still a little shell shocked from the emotional whiplash I was suffering. “That sounds good Surprise.”

“Okay, buh by!” she chirps back before bouncing off through a door and closing it behind her. “Tra luh la luh la~!”

That particular door leads to a supply closet. Fearful of what I would find I open it up after a few tense minutes and discover that it's empty save for cleaning supplies. Of course it is. We all seem to be subjected to some degree of cartoon logic. Surprise is just cranked up to eleven.

Once I feel that I've managed to settle myself down I return to the sanctuary and slip into the back row again. I sneak back to me seat as quietly as I can manage since they were praying already. Thankfully I don't think anyone noticed me. Chuck is a frumpy, scholarly looking old man missing most of his hair with a few liver spots lurking about his scalp. Really not the most impressive looking man, but I've had some fun bouncing ideas off him. Very approachable sort of fellow. I make a sour face. Unless of course you're female, apparently.

“This morning we'd like to look at the fourth chapter of Zachariah,” Chuck says as he fiddles with his notes behind the podium. He's the old fashioned sort who typical avoids computerized presentations. “Verse six. Where we read, 'And then he answered and spoke to me saying, “This is the word of the Lord to Zerubbabel saying: Not by might, nor by power, but by my spirit says the Lord of hosts. Who are you, oh great mountain? Before Zerubbabel you shall become a plane. And he shall bring forth the cap stone with cries of grace, grace unto it!”'”

Chuck looks out toward a few hundred sets of eyes and continues. “Have you ever been working on a project and you got to the place where you felt like there's no use even trying anymore. It's just too big. The task is too great. You simply can't do it.”

It feels like someone grabs me by the heart and gives it a twist.

“Have you ever felt overwhelmed by your circumstances and felt like you couldn't take one more step. That you might as well just give up and quite,” Chuck continues, giving his head a shake to punctuate the last word. “If you have then you understand the feelings of Zerubbabel.”

My skin feels prickly with sweat and my eyes misty with tears. I know, rationally, that this sort of thing happens all the time. People hear from messages what they need or want to hear. It doesn't mean that something supernatural is happening. They just forget all the times when a sermon isn't very relevant to them and remember vividly when it is. But I really don't care about that right now. Because this is exactly the encouragement that I need to hear.

Pastor Chuck goes on at length about what to do when life feels overwhelming. All the while I sit in my chair and quietly cry. I feel for all the world as though my hopes and fears had managed to make it past the ceiling and now I was getting my answer. I also receive a box of tissues and a hug from someone sitting near me. Those are nice too.

The sermon ends and a final song is played by the band. I don't really register it at all. I'm just staring at the box of tissues in my talons. Yeah, talons. At some point my finger nails decided to turn black and start to thicken. A few yellow scales have already appeared further up my arms. But this time I don't feel it weighing me down. I'm not in this alone. I don't have to do this alone. I've got friends I can trust. Dear friends who can encourage me. And dear friends that I can help to encourage, too. Hehe. That's what the magic of friendship is all about, right?

Once the last song is over Chuck stands up again to speak. “If anyone has any problems that they can't handle on their own or situations in their life that feel overwhelming come up and speak to one of the deacons and ask for prayer,” he gestures at several older men standing at the front of the sanctuary.

I'm walking forward before I even realize that I stood up. Walking on two legs feels a little more uncomfortable than it did this morning, but that's the last thing on my mind right now. The tissue box is crushed tight in my claws and I'm pretty sure my face is a complete mess of snot and tears by now. I can't even begin to guess how many eyes must be on me. They don't see a weird cosplayer anymore. They see a broken person who needs comfort.

“Problems that are so bad that you don't even want to think about them because you've tried everything and nothing seems to be working,” Chuck continues, holding out a hand in my direction. “Well, it's time to let someone else try.”

By the time I make it up front there's already someone waiting for me. When deacon Geoffrey asks about the nature of my problem I give a nervous, sobbing laugh and say that if I can talk with the pastor about it that would be great. He ends up giving a generic sort of prayer about my troubles being overcome. I sit down there in the front row and wait as other people walk up to be prayed for. Some look nervous, others embarrassed, others emotionally crushed like I am.

No other people who are transforming into alien pony catbirds, though. How fortunate for them.

Eventually things slow down and the various parishioners filter out of the sanctuary. Geoffrey and Chuck lead me back to his office for what I have resolved will be a calm, rational discussion where I carefully outline what I'm going through and what I'm worried about.

“So how can we help you, Miss Geneva?” Chuck asks with a kind smile.

I must be emotionally drained at this point. I was worried that I would start sobbing incoherently as soon as I try to speak. But aside from a few halting, gasping breaths it comes easily.

“Th-This isn't a costume,” I say once I manage to gather up the courage.

I'm met with silence and looks of confusion, so I continue.

“All of this,” I hike up a sleeve to let them see where mottled brown fur and yellow scales are running down my arm with all the inevitability of the rising tide. “Is real. It isn't a costume. And I have no idea why it's happening to me.”

Chuck and Geoffrey exchange a glance and it's the latter who speaks up first. “Well. I can see why you're feeling overwhelmed.”

I can't help but give a little tittering giggle at that. I've shared the knowledge of my affliction with someone else and they aren't completely flipping out. That takes a tremendous amount of pressure off me. Like Surprise said, choose the time and place and fashion of how word gets out. A sympathetic audience helps a lot.

“Oh! And my name isn't Geneva, not really,” I say. “I'm actually Geneva.”

More blank looks.

I can't help but face palm. “Sorry. This... this whatever it is? That name is part of it. And I'm sure it's changing my mind, too. Before I started this insane transformation I wasn't Geneva, I was Geneva,” okay, this isn't working. I need to try another less direct route. “Pastor, I know I said that I would bring back that commentary I borrowed last Tuesday, but I've been really distracted by all of this. Sorry.”

That does it. Chuck's eyes go wide. “...Lance?”

“Yes!” I laugh and point at him. “Yes! That was my name! Geneva!”

Goddamn it.

The pastor takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “Are you really a...?”

“Woman now?” I finish the sentence and my eyes fall to my knees. Knees which are further up on my legs than knees have any right to be. Stupid rebellious knees. “Yeah. I woke up to that this morning. It was pretty jarring.”

“I think you're going to have to explain this from the top, Lance,” Geoffrey says.

And so I do.

The birthdays. The names. The silly pony cartoon. The connection to the special talents. The discovery of the alien DNA. Everything. Everything we know so far. Which, frankly, isn't much.

“I remember that,” Geoffrey laughs. “Every year at the family camp you smoked out anyone who sat across from you. We ended up just declaring that the demilitarized zone and scooted the benches out of the way. Do you know how you do that?”

I give a shrug while picking at my nails. They're still getting longer. Slowly, sure. But its noticeable. “If the cartoon is any indication it's 'magic'.”

That gets some concerned looks.

“I know what you're thinking,” I add quickly, waving my hands in a 'slow down there' fashion. “The sort of magic you're thinking of was all various types of divination. This is more like an alternate set of physical laws. Like Chronicles of Narnia sort of stuff.”

Both men relax at that. Chronicles of Narnia are, thankfully, only on the banned book list of the wackiest of whack jobs.

“You think this might be related to another world? Like an alternate universe?” Chuck asks, clearly taking the comparison to a classic work of children's fiction far more literally than I had intended.

I open my mouth to correct him only to close it again.

“That... actually might be possible,” I admit. “No less crazy than any of the other explanations. But it's still another one to toss into the saddlebags.”

“Into the what?” Geoffrey asks.

“The saddlebags,” I clarify, looking at him as if he were missing something obvious. Because he totally is. “You throw a bunch of slips of paper with ideas written on them into a set of saddlebags, shake them up, and then draw one out at random. That's a normal figure of speech. Right?”

Blank looks are my only reply. I guess not.

The awkward silence is broken by my phone beeping to remind me that I'm supposed to be meeting up with Surprise and Lightning Dust soon. “Oh geeze I lost track of time again. I've got something really important that I need to do.”

“That's just fine,” Chuck says with a kind smile. “We'll pray over you and send you on your way.”

And so they do. It's... nice. A little bit touch and go since this is unfamiliar territory. After all, it isn't so often that you pray for someone to be returned to their true self after being magically altered. But it's the thought that counts. And as I'm heading back to my car to meet with my friends I can't help but feel encouraged. I'm really glad I got that off my chest.

~~~~~

Little did I know that debate ignited as soon as I left.

“We have to tell someone Chuck,” Geoffrey insisted. He wanted to prove his point further, so he shook a finger too. “The Center for Disease Control. Or the Department of Homeland Security. Someone who would know what to do.”

“Absolutely not,” Chuck replied. His mind had been made up on the issue. “What he did-”

“She did,” Geoffrey corrected.

“Whatever! What Lance did took a mountain of courage making himself vulnerable like that,” Chuck said. “And I'm not going to breach his trust on the matter. If he wants to tell someone else then he will and that's his business.”

“But- but what if it's contagious! What then!?” Geoffrey countered.

“Then I guess I'll have to worry about taking care of a herd instead of a flock,” Chuck laughed. “Come on Geoffrey! Lance has been coming here since before he could walk and he's been showing at least one sign of it for years. If this were some kind of disease we would all be in trouble already.”

Geoffrey's eyes narrowed. “And what if this is the work of Satan?”

Chuck sighed and shook his head. “All I saw in here was a devout young man who's terrified and looking for support. I don't know who's work is doing this to him, but I know what OUR work is. To feed the hungry and bind up the broken. This story will not leave this room. Do I make myself clear?”

The deacon glared at the floor in silence.

The pastor didn't relent. “I said do I make myself clear?”

“Yes pastor. I won't tell anyone.”

“Good.”