I slept deeply, mostly dreamless, or maybe it would be more accurate to say it wasn’t a particularly eventful dream.

  I floated on my back in the ocean. Peaceful. Still. The water cradled and supported me, warm instead of cold, and the stars above flickered like embers in a breeze I couldn’t feel. I didn’t know if I was dreaming, or just… resting. But I needed it.

  I closed my eyes again and let the sea carry me.

  The next thing I was aware of was two girls talking quietly nearby.

  I stretched. Joints cracked, popped, satisfying in a way I didn’t know I needed. My back crunched, and I groaned in relief. My mind felt syrupy, slow, and still waking up. My body, oddly, felt rested. Energized, even. The blanket over my head squirmed slightly, which was… weird, but it was so comfortable that I didn’t think much of it. Something smelled amazing, sharp, and smoky. My stomach growled, and I yawned.

  “Morgan?”

  Victoria. Right. She was coming over to my new place today. Had I fallen asleep before she got here? “Mmyea?” I managed. But–what the hell? My voice was wrong. Raspy, deep. Really deep. Like it belonged to someone twice my size.

  “Can you hold really still and keep calm while you wake up? I’ll try and explain what’s going on.”

  “Yeah, sure?” I said, uncertain.

  “You were trying to hold your power in before you passed out, remember? It made you really sick. But once you were out, you… changed. A lot.”

  Oh, that’s right.

  “You’re kinda huge now. And you’re uh… taking up most of your apartment. So before you move around too much, try not to break anything, okay? That couch’s innocent.”

  I guess the blue is out of the bag. We’ll deal with this. One step at a time. I let out a long breath. “I really don’t want to lose the deposit on this place.” I hesitated, then asked with resignation: “Tell me: am I blue?”

  My voice rumbled like distant thunder.

  Both of them laughed. The sound was warm. Familiar. It cut through some of the cold pressure coiled inside my chest.

  “Yes,” Victoria said. “You’re very blue. And really very big.”

  Amy’s voice chimed in, unusually animated. “You changed right in front of me, Morgan. I watched everything. Your new form it’s incredible. You’re not going to believe what you can do. It’s kind of amazing.”

  “Amy…” Victoria’s voice held a gentle warning.

  I responded, and my chest vibrated a little against the floor. I realized I was on a hard floor, but oddly enough, it didn’t really feel uncomfortable to me.

  “Okay, okay. Calm, slow. Got it. Just, ugh, I’m starving. And why are you both yelling?”

  I reached up and tried to brush the blanket off my face with the back of my thumb. “Slow! Slow slow slow!” Vicky’s voice was strained, and her volume made my ears tingle.

  “Okay, okay, jeeze. I was going slow. I’ll go sloth speed. God, Vicky.” I was having a hard time getting the blanket off my face for some reason. It wasn’t a blanket. I tried again, slower, and felt the back of my thumb brush my… scalp? Wait. Was my hair doing that weird thing again? Had it gotten long enough to… no, that wasn’t hair. That was something else. What the hell was that? Annoyed, I gave it another shove and finally got it off my face.

  “Ow, bright.” The lights hit harder than usual, like someone had cranked the brightness to max. I squeezed them shut.

  I started to push myself upright at sloth speed, but holy shit, my hands were slick, like I was greased up and on satin sheets. This was way harder than it should have been.

  “Let me help. Just sit up, okay? On your butt.” Vicky’s voice was close, off to my left, hands already reaching.

  I felt her slip under my armpit and lift me slowly upright. I shifted my legs around with her doing the bulk of the lifting, so I’d be sitting cross-legged. Something was pressing at my lower back too, but it actually helped me balance.

  “Holy- damn, Morgan. You weigh a ton,” Victoria wheezed. “Maybe more than a ton.” Oh, come on!

  “Wow, rude!” I said, mock-offended. Amy giggled. Victoria slipped out from under my armpit.

  I was about to crack my eyes open again, but some of the things I was feeling didn’t add up. I frowned, trying to make sense of it. My hands were in my lap. But also… not? Two of them were stretched out in front of me at weird angles, palms up, like they belonged to someone else. I cracked my eyes open a little bit at a time and let them adjust to the brightness. My stomach growled again, loud, demanding.

  Vicky was right in front of my face, hovering just a couple of feet back. She smiled and waved, and I rolled my eyes.

  I glanced down, and my brain stalled, trying to make sense of it all.

  I was sitting cross-legged. Vicky was hovering a couple of inches off the floor in a standing position, but she was also at eye level with me.

  Big.

  Two inhuman-looking arms were stretched out from my shoulders, resting with the backs of my hands sitting on the floor more than a couple of feet away. The hands had three fingers and a thumb, curved black claws a foot long, and someone could have sat comfortably in one of the palms. The hands were massive, and the forearms connected to them like tree trunks.

  Blue.

  There were also arms resting flush against my torso, with my hands in my lap. These looked like normal human arms and hands, if you discounted the varying shades of blue, speckled patterning, and several-inch-long black claws attached to each fingertip.

  Four.

  There weren’t any boobs blocking my view of my lap, and I didn’t have a stitch of clothing on.

  I tried to think of something to say. Anything that could make sense of what I was seeing. What I was feeling.

  “Oh.” That was all I managed. It was the only thing that fit. My lower lip trembled. My vision blurred. I started crying.

  I looked down at my lap.

  It was too far away.

  “Hey!” Amy. Fast footsteps, and then Victoria: “Amy, n-”

  “Vicky, stop. She needs us right now.” Amy’s voice was sharp, responding to Victoria.

  Amy, who never raises her voice, barely challenges anyone. Cutting Victoria off.

  She stepped up onto my lap like she was climbing a staircase, stepping on my lower shin and then my upper thigh, and then she hopped up a bit and threw her arms around my neck. I was very aware of the fact that she was standing on my lap, and I barely felt like she weighed anything at all.

  “Just, Morgan, when I got my powers and got super strength, I was constantly breaking things and accidentally hurting people by bumping into them. Still happens sometimes now. Just… Please, be careful with my sister. Try to avoid grabbing or holding her until you get used to it.” Victoria’s voice was thick with concern for the well-being of her sister, and I thought about accidentally hurting Melody. I wouldn’t do that to her. I held very still and nodded.

  Amy’s face was right up in mine, only inches separating our noses. She looked tiny to me, like a child. She stared into my eyes intently.

  “Hey, Morgan,” Amy whispered, her voice wobbled, like she wasn’t sure what tone to use. “I know this is a lot. Like… your whole life flipped upside-down.”

  I blinked away a few tears and nodded again. My chest hurt, and I didn’t want to talk with how my lips and jaw were trembling.

  “I know this isn’t how you’re used to looking. And that stresses you out super bad.”

  I swallowed bile in my throat and asked her: “How can you possibly know what I’m feeling? Are you secretly an empath?”

  “No, not exactly. But when I’m touching you, I can see everything. Your organs, your nerves. Your stress levels are spiking like alarm bells. I can feel your body panicking. And I need you to hear me, okay?”

  I nodded, cleared my throat, and told her: “Okay. I’ll try my best. I promise.”

  “You are…” she hesitated, a breath caught in her throat. “Morgan, you’re… amazing. I’ve never seen anything like you. Not even close. Your biology, your core, the way you’re still you even after all of it–”

  I really didn’t want a pep talk right now. I shook my head just a little and said: “Phoenix Strike is-”

  She cut me off. “I’m not talking about Phoenix Strike. I’m talking about you, right here, right now. You’re still Morgan Rivera here.” She pulled one arm back and tapped my forehead. “And your power… it’s something else. Your new body, look, I’m not trying to hype you up. I’ve never seen anything like this. When you have the space to actually move, to experiment, to really test it? I think you’ll realize the potential you have. Not here, obviously."

  “Happy?” I asked, my voice deep, rough, bass-laden, and growly. I didn’t recognize it.

  I looked down at my arms, the big ones, the ones tipped with claws the size of my old forearms.

  Happy? I flexed my fingers and saw the smaller pair of hands move in sync.

  I sucked in a breath and felt the volume of it in my chest. The mass of me now, the space I took up. Too much. My balance, off. Wrong. All wrong. I shook my head just a little. “I get that you’re excited, Amy, really, but…” I swallowed, frustrated. “I’m struggling to wrap my head around the practical reality of this. This isn’t what I wanted. I wanted to be strong, tough, powerful, not…” I nodded down towards my arms, too afraid to move like any wrong motion might hurt someone. “...not this.”

  Amy’s expression flickered, wavered, and faltered. I thought I might have seen a flash of uncertainty, but I wasn’t sure. She looked back at her sister.

  “Ames, maybe give her a little time and space. She can make up her mind in due time.” Victoria’s voice was calm, steady, and seemingly reassured by how still I was being around her sister.

  Amy frowned but didn’t back down. “I am giving her time, but you two, you aren’t seeing what I am.” She turned back to me, pleading. “I know this feels wrong right now. But it’s not a bad thing, Morgan. Your body works. You’re strong. Resilient. It’s just going to take some time. And you’re still you. I promise you’re still you.”

  My jaw tightened. I lost my cool and snapped: “And what if I can’t adjust? What if this is all I get now? What if I can’t go back!? Do you think I’m going to do a good job saving someone from a burning building? People might run into a burning building to get away from me! How can I be a hero if I scare people shitless when they see me!? I don’t even recognize myself.”

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  I glanced back down at myself, and a terrible realization slammed into me. Anxiety and dread crawled up from my gut, and crept into my new, different voice: “Am I-” I choked a moment, and swallowed. “Am I even female anymore!?”

  Amy opened her mouth, then closed it. Her brows drew together. Yeah. That’s what I thought.

  “Morgan…”

  “Could you step down off me, please?”

  Amy sighed and did as I asked, climbing down. She crossed to Victoria and the two of them stood a few feet back, facing me.

  Victoria spoke first: “Do you want us to leave?”

  She was always very considerate like that.

  I thought about it. Really thought about it. There was a tangled, knotted mess in my chest, a web of too many feelings at once. I shifted, adjusting my weight. My claws scraped against the floor. Too heavy, too large, too differently balanced. I exhaled hard.

  “I–no. I think I’d like to have your company.”

  I paused, sighing deeply.

  “This is… a lot. But being alone would probably make it worse.”

  I looked at Amy.

  “I’m sorry for snapping. You didn’t deserve that. You’re both trying to help. I know that.”

  Amy gave a small, careful smile. Vicky smiled too, more warmly. I think I hurt Amy a little, but the apology helped.

  “We got a ton of food because Amy thought you’d be starving when you woke up. You want some barbecue?”

  The snarling roar of my stomach answered that question.

  “I’d love some. Thank you. And Amy? Thank you, too, for staying. I really do appreciate it, appreciate you.”

  That smile again, but this time it reached her eyes.

  For the first time since I woke up, the thought of sitting and eating with them made me feel just a little more human.

  Victoria slid the table and a pair of chairs over closer to the countertop that surrounded the kitchen, and started doling out food. She and Amy each got a big tray. The crack of a two-liter bottle of lemon-lime soda opening made me flinch slightly, then relax.

  Victoria glanced around, looking for someone. I tried to point, and both my right arms moved in perfect sync.

  Frustration bubbled up. What was the point of having two sets of arms if they just mirrored each other? One proportional to my body and recognizable, one grotesquely oversized?

  I dropped both sets down. The large pair thumped onto the floor. The other, lighter pair, settled into my lap.

  I nodded my head instead.

  “Left of the sink, upper cabinets.”

  “Got it!” Victoria said without missing a beat.

  “Hey, Morgan?” Amy asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “Your arms, I know what’s going on there.” She picked up a plastic spork and scooped a heaping pile of barbecue into her mouth before continuing, half-muffled, “You’ll need practice, but I’ve seen stuff like it before, back at the hospital. I can show you a few tricks after dinner.”

  The steam rising from the trays and bags on the counter hit my nose. My mouth watered. The only problem: I had no idea how I was going to feed myself.

  Speaking with her mouth still partially full, Amy said, “Okay, so this is going to sound really weird, but I think it might actually work. Wanna hear it?”

  “Super weird is my entire life now, try me,” I said dryly.

  Victoria snorted into her cup.

  “Don’t laugh. Morgan should try her…” She gestured at her hair, then at my head. “...Your uh, tentacles.”

  “...My fucking what?”

  “Your head,” Victoria said, stepping in smoothly. “You don’t have hair anymore. It’s like… aqua-blue tentacles. They’re kind of arranged like dreadlocks, actually. Honestly? They look cool.”

  I blinked. “Sure. Why not. Head tentacles. That tracks.”

  Although… It did make sense. My “hair” had been moving on its own lately when I used my power. I thought it was nerves. Or adrenaline. Not… this.

  Amy shoveled another bite and spoke around it again. “Tentacles are actually great for fine motor control. Especially in smart species, like octopi. There’s research on them solving puzzles, opening jars, that kind of thing. I saw a great documentary.”

  I stared at her. For such a mousy girl, she could eat.

  I pressed my huge palms to the floor and slowly scooted myself closer to the counter. Victoria made a move to help, but I shook my head. I wanted to do this on my own.

  Slow. Methodical. Careful.

  Feeling like it was an inch at a time, I made it to the counter without breaking or damaging anything.

  Here goes nothing.

  I tried to wriggle my hair towards the counter. It squirmed around a little, but not in a useful direction. I tried to isolate the feeling of just a single tentacle, but it wasn’t any use; there were dozens, maybe a hundred of them, all justling and brushing against each other and me. Trying to single one out was like trying to find a needle in a haystack made of snakes.

  “It’s not working,” I said, frustration creeping into my tone. “When I try to move just one or pick it out from the bunch, either nothing happens or it just makes my head hurt.”

  Victoria perked up: “Okay, wait. I might know this one. When I started flying, I had the same kind of brain fog when I tried to break it into steps. It’s not like flapping wings, or pushing off. It’s more like… willing it? Like imagining the motion and letting your body–or power–handle the rest.”

  Worth a shot.

  I pictured lifting a single plastic fork off the counter. I didn’t try to move a tentacle, I just imagined the result I wanted.

  A bright aqua strand uncoiled from my head, slithered over the counter, and hooked under the fork. It wrapped around the handle two or three times and lifted it smoothly.

  “Holy shit!” I blurted. Actual joy running through me, for the first time today.

  I tried again, another fork, with a second tentacle. Nailed it. Then I mimed scooping something up and bringing it to my mouth. Easy. Smooth. I slid the fork between my lips and pulled it back out like I was eating, just to be sure.

  Then I tried something else. I thought about accidentally stabbing myself in the cheek, but didn’t actually want it to happen. My fork tentacles twitched, idle and loose, still holding the forks, but doing nothing else.

  “Nickel for your thoughts?” Victoria asked me.

  “I was worried that if I just idly thought about stabbing myself in the face, I might actually do it.”

  “Oh, yeah. No.” She said with a grin. “I can daydream about flying and not floating off. You have to mean it.”

  I looked at the tub of pulled BBQ chicken and frowned. Round container. Snap-on plastic lid. No fingers. No fingernails. My tentacles were soft, and I didn’t want to crush it by mistake.

  Could I maybe try and tweak one? Give it a tip?

  I focused, picturing one hair-tentacle reshaping: just the tip, forming a dull claw. I pushed with my power, expecting resistance. But it came naturally. Instinctive. Easier than ever before. Was it because I was in this body? One built for change? Or was it me?

  Wrapping one tentacle around the tub without squeezing it too hard, just enough until I felt it slightly deform, I took my claw-tipped tentacle and popped the lid off.

  Here goes nothing.

  I didn’t want to spill it. Not just because the Dallons had bought it for me, but because I was ravenous. I brought the container up toward my face.

  The smell hit my senses like a truck. Smoky, sweet, tangy, intense. It was like tasting color, or hearing texture. I could smell so much more now, layers and details I’d never had before.

  I dug in. Tentacle, fork, chicken: mouth.

  Amy and Victoria had stopped eating, watching me like it was the judging panel on a cooking show. They clapped. I rolled my eyes, but honestly? I didn’t care. This was stupid, and weird, and surreal.

  But it was also really good chicken.

  After the first bite, everything shifted. The world felt less sharp and less threatening. I wasn’t some monstrous alien creature devouring food with her hair. I was just Morgan, having excellent takeout with friends.

  We ate. We talked about nothing. Picked at side dishes and swapped bites. Less threatening. I calmed down. The weirdness didn’t disappear, but it softened and was edged out by the conversation and comfort.

  Amy and Victoria finished their trays, and I absolutely demolished the catering tubs. Four, maybe five pounds of pork, beef, and chicken. Maybe more. I didn’t want to dwell on the numbers; it made me feel inhuman. I just focused on how good it felt to not be starving anymore.

  I drank two full two-liters of soda, which was trickier than I expected. The bottles crumpled if I didn’t support them properly. Eventually, I figured out the trick: one tentacle around the neck, a second bracing the base. Drinking with your hair was weird. But it worked. And I was getting the hang of things, little by little.

  Popping her last hushpuppy into her mouth and munching on it, Amy chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed and circled back to the landmine we’d left buried.

  “Do you want to talk about the female question, or would you rather leave that alone?”

  “I–” I hesitated a moment, searching my feelings for any warning signs. The coast seemed clear at the moment. “I think I would like to know.”

  She met my eyes and nodded, slow and careful. “You’re not male or female. You’re sexless, but I’m pretty sure I know why.”

  Sexless?

  I blinked. Not the answer I’d expected. I mean, there wasn’t anything swinging between my legs, but I hadn’t exactly seen anything feminine down there, either. From what I could tell, I looked… neutral. Flat. My chest and abdomen were layered in robust muscle, like an athlete’s, not a model’s. No breasts. No nipples. Just… blank. “You think there’s a reason for that?” I asked quietly.

  “Yeah.” Amy hesitated, studying my face. “I don’t want to scare you-”

  I steeled myself for whatever bomb she was going to drop on me and told her, “No, go on. I think I’m over most of the freakout, and now that I’ve cried and eaten, my curiosity is stirring.”

  She gave me a little smile. “Okay. So. You know how I said your biology isn’t human? That’s still true. But that’s not the whole picture. It’s really not human. It’s something else entirely.”

  She paused, trying to phrase things right before speaking.

  “I think part of the reason I got so excited earlier, when you were changing? Is because your power is a lot like mine.”

  I rolled that around in my head for a moment. “How so? You’re a bio-kinetic, I’m a changer. Aren’t those very different things?”

  “Don’t get too hung up on PRT labels,” Victoria chimed in, pushing up from her seat and starting to clean the table. “Those classifications are mostly for field ops and public safety, you know? They’re based on how to respond to a power, and not on how it actually works.”

  “Right, right,” I said.

  “What I was going to say is, your changer power changes your biology and chemistry when you use it,” Amy continued. “That’s actually a lot like how I heal people. I’m not using a healing beam or a magic zap or anything. I’m giving their body instructions, rewriting, repairing, or changing. I work with biomass. And you do too. Except in your case, your core seems to be supplying most of it.”

  My core.

  Not something I liked to think about, but she wasn’t wrong.

  I’d known it was there. It had formed not long after my trigger, during the testing phase, when I joined the PRT. A hard, spherical mass tucked deep in my chest. Made of stuff nobody could identify. They said it was likely incredibly durable, based on imaging, but it didn’t do anything. I couldn’t really feel it, not unless I used my power. Which… hadn’t been often.

  I was pulled back into the conversation when Amy spoke up again: “We got a bit off-topic, but there was something I wanted to tell you I think is important.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Do you know what a chimera is?” Amy asked me.

  The word sparked something, faint but familiar. “You mean the mythological goat snake thing?” I asked.

  “Sort of, but not exactly what I mean,” Amy said, tilting her head to ponder a moment.

  “You mean the scientific version,” Victoria said from the sink, rinsing out the cups we’d used.

  “Yeah!” Amy said, bringing a fist down on an open palm. “Exactly. That’s what I was getting at.”

  Victoria glanced over her shoulder at me: “In biology, it’s when different species are fused together into one organism. Like those fruit trees that grow five types of apples, or how some jellyfish are actually colonies of multiple animals working together.”

  “Amy, did you stick extra arms on me when I was asleep?” I asked, half-joking. Her expression went weird.

  “No,” she said quickly. “I didn’t use my power on you at all. Just the perception part, nothing invasive.” Her voice was a little stiff, a little too defensive.

  “I was kidding,” I said, softening. “I didn’t think you did. Just… trying to lighten the mood.” I shifted. “So what does this chimera talk have to do with me?”

  Amy relaxed a little. “Think of your body like a jigsaw puzzle. But not a normal one. Every piece is precision cut, engineered to fit not just together, but better together. Like, each system enhances the ones it’s linked with. It’s seamless. Like you were designed from the ground up to work this way.”

  Victoria finished rinsing out the last cup, then moved them to the drying rack and wiped her hands. I looked down at my arms again, at the way they joined my shoulders. No seams. No stitches. Nothing crude or unnatural.

  I wasn’t Frankenstein’s monster creature, at least. Small blessings.

  Amy continued, quieter now. “Your power is really incredible, Morgan. I mean it. I don’t think I could do what you’ve done, even if I tried. I could… maybe do something similar, sort of, but nothing on this scale. Some of the biology is so complex that I don’t fully understand. There’s parts I can’t map.”

  Victoria crossed the room and leaned casually beside Amy. She tilted her head, giving her sister a curious look. "Wait, you could? I didn’t know you could do things other than healing people. That’s really cool.”

  Amy flushed. “Y-yeah.”

  “Could you make a half-dog, half-cat to put an end to the eternal debate?” Victoria asked, teasing.

  “Ack, Vicky!” Amy squeaked, her blush deepening. Victoria poked her in the side several times, and Amy relented, laughing: “...Yeah, probably.”

  Something was nagging me in the back of my head, and as they were teasing and joking around, it finally surfaced: “You know, I think Dragon told me something very similar to what you’re saying, Amy.”

  That shut them up fast. Both Amy and Victoria both froze and looked at me.

  “Dude,” Victoria said, blinking. “You know freaking Dragon!?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “How has this never come up before now?” she demanded, somewhere between outraged and gleeful. “Have you been sitting on any other world-shattering bombshells? You been secretly dating Alexandria, too?”

  I expected that would have gotten me into a furious blush normally. I didn’t feel it on my face, though. Maybe my new skin didn’t do that.

  Let’s not even go there. I don’t know what dreams I’m allowed to have.

  “Oh, um. Sorry?” I offered weakly. “I just met her a few days ago after the ABB thing, my PRT doctor brought her in as a consultant. She was driving around a medical drone or robot. We’ve texted a few times since.”

  “Wow,” Amy breathed.

  Victoria crossed her arms over her chest: “And you’ve got her phone number. You text. No big deal for Morgan. Going to go get ice cream with Legend this weekend?”

  “Oh my god, stop!” I groaned. ”ANYWAYS…” I tried to get back to my point before she teased me any further.

  “Dragon checked out these blue patches of skin I had after I got shot. She said they were really complex. Something about how they could study it to develop new body armor tech. She kinda went tinker mode on me, you know how they get.”

  I paused, thinking back. “She called it a… meta-material.”

  “What’s she like?” Amy asked softly.

  “Really nice,” I said. “Smart, obviously. Like, scary smart. But she’s really kind, too? I don’t know, just super compassionate?”

  Vicky groaned out loud and threw her hands up in the air. “Great. She’s brilliant and warm. I bet she also bakes cookies and funds orphanages.”

  She’s teasing, of course. But there’s something in her voice. A hint of an edge beneath the laugh. Is she jealous? Or maybe just annoyed I hadn’t told her?

  I thought back to Melody pushing me to ask Victoria out. But… not now.

  My eyes dropped down to my arms. My body. Claws. Tail. Wings.

  Not like this.

  Amy moved closer to me, close enough that she could reach out and touch me if she wanted. “Do you want me to show those control tricks I mentioned? There are these exercises that they use in rehab. Nerve damage prosthetics training, stuff like that. I think it might help…”