literature

Mythanthrope, Wanda's Story, Part 3

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It was well past seven o'clock. Wanda stared glumly down at the half-eaten pizza sitting on the kitchen table. The pie had cooled to room temperature, acquiring the consistency (and taste) of candle wax. An open history textbook and laptop lay next to it. Wanda glanced out the window. Beyond her sad, pudgy reflection she could make out not-so-distant lights of neighboring houses. Wanda turned back to the kitchen and eyed the empty chair on the opposite end of the table. She sighed and, after a moment's consideration, reached into her pocket and retrieved her cell phone. Just as she was about to dial she made out the muffled rumble of a garage door opening.

"Finally," she murmured, tucking her phone back into her pants.

A minute later a middle-aged brunette stepped into the kitchen.

"Hi Samantha, I'm home!" said the woman in a tired yet happy voice.

"Hi mom," said Wanda unenthusiastically.

Wanda's mother was overweight, no question about it, but not exactly fat. The curves were in the right places but she had an overall rotund figure. She had a pleasant face plastered over with thick layers of foundation, rouge, lip-stick and lip-gloss. She was wearing a red coat with oversized buttons over a plain white shirt, black skinnies and heels.

She set her purse down on the kitchen counter.

"Sorry, honey," she said, digging through her purse. "I wanted to pick you up myself but, well, there was a lot of work. I hope the taxi ride wasn't too much of a problem. The good news is I managed to wrap up the report." She paused. "How was your day?" she asked.

"It was...interesting," said Wanda, shrugging. "I-”

"Great, great! Let me, ah, just put a few things away in the bedroom and I'll join you. Do you mind warming up the pizza?"

"Um, no problem."

"Great!"

Wanda's mother left the kitchen. Wanda sat there for a moment or two, then got up, walked over to the microwave and retrieved a plate from a cupboard above it. She placed the remaining slices on the plate and slid them into the microwave.

"Uh, mom?" called Wanda as she entered the cook time.

"Yes, honey?" replied her mother from down the hall.

"I was, uh...I was thinking..."

"What was that, honey? I can't hear you."

Wanda pressed 'start' and the microwave whirred to life. "I was thinking I'd visit the Chrysalis center over at the mall on Saturday," she said uncomfortably. "I mean, I already stopped by there today after I bought the pizza."

"What's that?" called her mother distractedly.

Wanda took a deep breath.

"I want to try shifting."

She grimaced and waited for her mother's reply.

"Oh, that sounds fine, honey. Is the pizza in the microwave?"

Wanda blinked in surprise.

"So...you're OK with it?"

"What? Yes, of course."

The microwave beeped and then fell silent. The aroma of hot pizza wafted in the kitchen air. Wanda's mother emerged from the hallway.

"You heard me, right?" said Wanda suspiciously as her mother walked past. "I want to try mythomorphic conversion. Shifting."

"Yes, honey, I heard you," said her mother, taking a seat at the table. "Would you mind, uh," she gestured at the microwave. "And grab me some wine, too."

"Just like that?" persisted Wanda, opening the microwave door. She reached in to retrieve the plate but quickly retracted her hand, hissing in pain.

"Ooo, careful," warned Wanda's mother, wincing.

Wanda grabbed an oven mitt hanging on a nearby wall hook and slipped it over her hand.

"So, I have your permission?" she asked, removing the steaming hot pizza from the microwave.

"Yes, Wanda, yes," said her mother a tad crossly as Wanda placed the plate on the table. "Just let me know what I need to sign." She hesitated. "Uh, just how much will this cost?"

"Uh, there are a couple of packages," said Wanda slowly, who had visited the Chrysalis website. "The cheapest one is fifty-nine dollars, but-"

"Oh that's fine," said her mother happily, reaching for a slice of pizza.

Rolling her eyes, Wanda placed the oven mitt back on its hook. She then reached up for a cupboard above the refrigerator, standing on her tip-toes. With a strained grunt she managed to open it and pull a bottle from a wine rack inside. She brought the bottle to her mother, who was blowing on her pizza, trying to cool it down.

"Thanks," said Wanda's mother, smiling. "Oh, could you get me a glass too?"

Mouthing frustrated profanities under her breath, Wanda turned and grabbed a wine glass from the cabinet and placed it on the table.

"Anything else I can get you?" asked Wanda with barely concealed sarcasm.

It finally dawned on Wanda's mother that her daughter was upset about something. She put the pizza down.

"It's been a long day, Wanda," she said. "I'm sorry about leaving you at the mall but these things happen. Do you think I was happy paying thirty dollars for a cab ride and being late for dinner? Besides, I thought you liked visiting the mall."

"Not when I have a history assignment due," snapped Wanda, pointing at the textbook and laptop.

"Well, you could have worked on it at the mall," said her mother reasonably.

"It's not exactly a quiet study area," retorted Wanda. She hesitated, seeing the frustrated, embarrassed look on her mother’s face. "Look, it's not that big a deal," she said, raising her hands in a conciliatory gesture. "I'm already half done with it."

"Then, what's bothering you?"

Wanda frowned, gazing down at the floor for a moment. The only sound in the kitchen was the hum of the refrigerator.

"I'm just really tired, OK?" said Wanda at last, shoulders sagging. "Didn't mean to get all aggro. Just...let me finish my homework."

"Um, sure," said her mother.

Wanda managed a weak smile and sat back in her chair. She tapped a key on her laptop and turned to her history book. Her mother reluctantly reached for her slice of pizza. The two sat there in silence, Wanda reading and her mother eating. After a time, Wanda's mother glanced up at her daughter.

"So, you want to try shifting?" she asked.

Wanda blinked in surprise and looked up at her from her book.

"Um, yeah."

"Not to be a nosy mother, but what prompted this?"

"I, uh, um," stuttered Wanda, caught off guard. "Well, everybody is doing it. I thought I should at least see what the big fuss is all about.”

Wanda's mother chuckled.

"Come on, honey, I don't believe that for a second." She took a bite of pizza, chewed, swallowed and then continued. "You're the last person I'd expect to give in to peer pressure. Besides, didn't you say you thought shifting was for idiots?"

Irritated yet, in a strange way, gratified by her mother's attention, Wanda shrugged.

"Well, yeah," she said. "I did say that but..."

"Is it a boy?" asked her mother, smiling deviously.

"No, it's not a boy," said Wanda wearily. "I...I dunno, maybe I am just curious. Or maybe..." she gave her mother an odd look, and then slumped back in her seat. "Look, I want to do this, OK?" she said testily. “I’m sick of everyone thinking I’m a religious fundie and if there is a point to shifting beyond looking cool I want to take a stab at it."

"Alright, alright," said Wanda's mother. "I'll drive you over on Saturday. I wanted to stop by a few of the shops anyways so it works out for both of us."

"Uh, thanks," said Wanda. She bit her lower lip. "I just didn't expect you to be so...nonchalant about it."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, it's not exactly going out for a manicure," said Wanda. "Some people have a real problem with it."

"Samantha, until today you were the most vocal anti-shifting person I knew. A lot of the gals back at the office have daughters and sons who shift and as far as I know nothing bad has come of it. One of our managers is a jinn and she's nice enough. I just don't understand what the big deal is. If you want to try shifting, fine. If not, that's fine too."

Wanda opened her mouth but no words were forthcoming. She shut it and sighed, defeated.

* * *

"So, this is the place?" inquired Wanda's mother over the din of the mall.

Wanda gazed up at the Chrysalis logo above the storefront and back down at her mother.

"Yes, this is it," said Wanda in a deadpan voice.

Wanda's mother cocked her head.

"It looks more like a trendy cell phone shop than a clinic," she remarked.

"I don't know, mom," said Wanda wearily. "I guess all the technical stuff is behind closed doors. It's really expensive."

"I don't even see any mythomorphs working there," continued her mother curiously.

"Can we just get this over with?" said Wanda. The two were standing in the middle of the arcade, crowds of weekend shoppers flowing around them.

"I thought you were looking forward to this," said Wanda's mother.

"I am, I am!" insisted Wanda. "Come on."

Wanda marched to the Chrysalis center, opened the doors and stepped inside. Apart from the presence of another customer - a young man with thick glasses - sitting in the waiting area, everything basically looked the same as when she last visited. Wanda approached the reception desk. It was being manned by an attractive blonde in a navy blue dress suit.

"Hi, welcome to Chrysalis," said the woman brightly. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Yeah, I'm Wa-...Samantha," said Wanda. "I called a couple of days ago."

The woman nodded.

"Samantha, Samantha, let's see," she said, scanning her computer's monitor. "Ah! Here you are. You're a bit early. Just take a seat there and we'll send someone out for you when we're ready." She paused. "Oh wait, do you..." she looked up and peered around Wanda "...Is this your legal guardian?"

"Yes," said Wanda's mother pleasantly, who had just stepped inside the center.

"Alright, can I see your ID?"

As her mother searched through her purse for her card, Wanda looked around the center. She scanned the posters arrayed along the wall. One depicted a handsome mythomorph with curly ivory horns, shaggy brown fur and bright green eyes wearing walking along a city street. Another was of a slender young woman who looked ordinary enough apart from the red feathery wings protruding from her back. She was soaring over a verdant conifer forest. Wanda thought back to the boy from her history class with 'scale face.' None of the posters depicted transitory mythomorphs like him. She couldn’t help but feel a tingle of trepidation as she considered this.

"Alright, everything seems to be in order," said the receptionist, returning her mother’s driver’s license. "I just need your verbal and written consent. Do you give your daughter permission to undergo stage one mythomorphic conversion?"

"Certainly."

"Could I have you sign and date at the bottom?" The woman held out a clipboard with a form attached, which Wanda's mother promptly signed. "Alright, just let me ring you up...for the basic conversion package that will be sixty-five thirty-two."

Wanda's mother paid.

"Great! You're all set," said the receptionist. "There’s only one person ahead of you and the process takes about twenty minutes so you should be out before the end of the hour."

"Oh, um, do you need me to be here?" asked Wanda's mother, glancing over her shoulder at the exit.

"...I suppose not," said receptionist.

"Then why don't I head out and finish shopping?" said Wanda's mother. "No point in me just hanging around, embarrassing my daughter," she chuckled.

"Are you sure you..." began Wanda. She stopped, took a big breath, and continued. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense," she murmured. "I'll call you when I'm done."

"Great! Good luck, honey," said her mother, giving her a quick hug. "This is kind of exciting. I wonder how it'll turn out."

With that said, she hurried out the door. Wanda sighed and turned back to the receptionist, who, to her credit, gave her a sympathetic shrug.

"Just take a seat and we'll be with you shortly," she said.

Wanda walked over to the waiting area and took a seat next to the bespectacled young man. Seconds later the door leading to the inner officers opened. A tall, almost-impossibly thin woman with pale skin and shocking pink hair and eyes stepped into the room. At first it looked as though she were wearing some kind of transparent cape over her white blazer. It soon became apparent that the scintillating clear material draped over her back was, in fact, her wings. She had a very composed, almost serene demeanor.

"Daniel?" she read in a musical voice, gazing down at a tablet she was holding.

"Yeah, that's me," said the young man, rising.

"This way, please," said the pink-haired woman, gesturing behind her.

Nodding, he walked through the door. The pink-haired woman noticed Wanda staring and gave her a smile.

“Sylph, if that’s what you’re wondering,” said the woman. She looked back down at her tablet. “You’re Samantha, yes?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I’ll be with you shortly,” she said.

The sylph turned and left. She returned a few minutes later.

“OK, we’re ready for you, Samantha,” she said. “Apologies for the delay.”

A lump formed in Wanda’s throat. She briefly considered walking out but was carried forward by the momentum of the situation. She took a deep breath and exhaled.

“Alright,” she said quietly, rising.

She followed the pink-haired sylph into the interior of the Chrysalis center. They walked down the hall and entered a chamber that resembled a doctor’s examination room. There was a sink, small cabinet, scale, large wall mirror, various medical paraphernalia - latex gloves, tongue depressors, a sphygmometer, bandages and the like - and a computer. Nearly half of the room, however, was dominated by a large device. It looked like a box sheathed in slick white plastic with an extension arm protruding from one side. The arm was fitted with a wide cone at its tip and several thick flexible cables ran from end to end. Another set of cables ran from the base of the machine to the computer. The upper surface of the machine featured a thin layer of padding on one end, suggesting it was designed for someone to lie on top of.

“Is this…?” asked Wanda, pointing.

“Our Kratz-Izumi generator, yes,” said the sylph. She placed her tablet on top of the cabinet. “I am Amanda Silverwing and I will be administering your treatment.”

Anxious as she was, Wanda could not help but smirk at this.

“Silverwing?” she asked.

Amanda’s calm expression belied a hint of irritation.

“Some mythomorphs adopt a new name upon reconne-…reaching stage three,” she explained as she activated the computer.

“Why?” inquired Wanda. “I mean, I get it’d be an accomplishment for some people. Changing your name just seems a bit…” she hesitated, noting the look on Amanda’s face “…much.”

The sylph looked at the door and then back at Wanda.

“Some of us feel it honors our ancestors,” said Amanda quietly.

“Honors your ancestors?” said Wanda skeptically.

Amanda sighed before continuing. “I understand Annette explained the basics of mythomorphic conversion to you, yes?”

“Oh, she talked to you about me?” said Wanda, surprised.

“Yes, she’s a colleague and a good friend. She actually wanted to be the one to administrate your conversion but her schedule precluded it. Please take a seat.” She gestured at the machine. “Anyways, did she explain why it is human bodies respond to the Kratz-Izumi radiation?”

“Uh, not really,” said Wanda as she got up onto the machine.

“There are many theories, but one of the more popular ones states that all humans are descendents of full-blooded mythomorphs.” Amanda reached for the sphygmometer and placed it around Wanda’s arm. “Before the schism that separated our two worlds, mythomorphs interbred with the descendents of humanity. Or we are all former mythomorphs that were forced to adapt to a universe without magic. Or both. Regardless, every man, woman and child are related to mythomorphs. The conversion merely awakens our true selves.”

“I’ve…heard about that,” said Wanda carefully. “Seems a bit out there, but I guess this whole thing would have seemed a bit out there a couple decades ago.” She glanced down at the sphygmometer. “Um, what’s this?” she asked, pointing down.

“A basic medical check-up,” replied Amanda. “Standard procedure. Your resting heart rate is a bit high, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Amanda. “So, uh, where did you get the name ‘Silverwings?’”

Amanda paused.

“It’s…something that came to me,” she said. She cleared her throat. “Please remove your clothes and step onto the scale.”

Wanda stared at her.

“It’s so we can get an accurate reading,” explained Amanda, removing the sphygmometer. “You’ll need to take them off when I activate the generator anyways. You can keep your undergarments if you’re not comfortable being naked.”

Wanda bit her lower lip. She slipped off the machine. Blushing, she removed her shirt and took off her shoes and socks. Her flabby, pale flesh jiggled as she moved. She shivered slightly, whether from the cold or embarrassment she wasn’t certain. After a moment’s hesitation she pulled her pants off. Grimacing, she stepped onto the scale. Amanda glanced at the screen.

“Hmm….alright,” she said. “That should do it. Based on my preliminary examination and your medical records, you are physically fit to undergo mythomorphic conversion.”

“Physically fit?” said Wanda.

“While the process is not particularly painful and not a single person has ever died during conversion, it’s still stressful on the body. Because of this we usually refrain from performing the procedure on individuals with heart conditions, weakened immune systems and,” she coughed politely “the clinical obese. You don’t fall under our definition of obese, of course,” added Amanda hastily. “Otherwise I’d be stopping things right now.”

“Um, thanks.”

“That said I would, strictly from a medical standpoint, advise you to lose some weight.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Wanda quietly.

“Alright, we can get started,” said Amanda. “Lie down and relax.”

Heart pounding in her chest, Wanda climbed back onto the platform. She stared up at the extension arm. Amanda pulled a switch on the side of the device and it hummed to life.

“Once I activate the generator the effects will manifest within a few seconds,” said Amanda, typing on the computer attached to the device. “When we’re done I’ll perform a brief examination and attempt to identify your mythomorph. Are you ready?”

“No,” said Wanda, steeling herself. “But do it anyways.”

Amanda hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and clicked on a flashing green icon on the computer screen.

Wanda had half-expected the machine to glow, vibrate or at least make a buzzing sound. Instead, it emitted a soft, anticlimactic beep. Then, nothing.

“Is…that it?” inquired Wanda, sitting up slightly.

Suddenly, Wanda gasped. It felt as though her entire body had been immersed in boiling hot water. Or ice cold water; she wasn’t sure. The feeling quickly passed but then an intense itching sensation erupted along her face, forearms, legs and back. Wanda writhed; not out of pain, but shock.

“Ah, shit!” she swore, shaking her head. “That was…” she slumped on the platform, feeling a bit nauseous. A dizzying array of colors and shapes flashed in her eyes.

“Please tell me that’s the worst of it,” she croaked.

Amanda didn’t respond.

“Hello?” said Wanda, annoyed. Her vision cleared and the weird sensations had passed but she desperately wanted to put her clothes back on. It felt as though the temperature in the room had dropped ten degrees.

“Twice in one week,” breathed Amanda, almost in awe. “What are the odds?”

Wanda froze, and then slowly sat upright. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror on the far wall.

Twin iridescent red streaks had appeared on her face running symmetrically down her forehead and along her cheeks. Wanda gingerly raised a hand and rubbed them. They felt disconcertingly rough and hard, almost metallic. The transformation hadn’t stopped at her head. Her arms had been similarly affected, as had her legs. In fact, most of the skin along her forearms and upper legs had been replaced with the strange, shiny texture. What’s more, her nails had darkened and narrowed into dull points. When Wanda opened her mouth to gasp she noticed her canines had lengthened into small fangs. She ran her tongue - now noticeably thinner - along the sharp points.

“Scale-face,” groaned Wanda.

“The word you’re looking for is ‘draconic,’” said Amanda smugly.
The third part of the first story set in the fictional universe/series, Mythanthrope. Finally we have a transformation as voted by my followers. Enjoy!
© 2015 - 2024 Heliotroph
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I had been waiting to start reading Mythanthrope until there was a few chapters up. Unfortunately I decided to read these first 3 parts over a short plane flight today. Unfortunate because now I want to read more and there's not more and I will have to wait until part 4 is done.

In short, I like it!