35. Chimera (Patreon)

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry for the wait! This one took a bit of extra time to edit since it deals with (and please take this as an official content warning) trauma about past abuse. It's just one of those things that needs a bit of extra love and care to write, you know?

On the upside, this delay doesn't seem like it'll prevent me from meeting my goal this week of two Bioshifter chapters, as well as the Vigor Mortis chapter that I've been struggling to get out as per usual. I feel like I've been slipping too much! I really, really appreciate the love and support people give me in response to delays, but lately I think it's been sapping my motivation because the ADHD brain needs real, tangible deadlines with consequences or else it doesn't want to do anything at all. Breaks are good, you're all absolutely right about that, but it's frustrating to balance getting enough breaks with getting my horrible executive function disorder to acknowledge when breaks end. 

So, wish me luck! Three chapters this week or bust! And without further adieu, enjoy Bioshifter!

"And you just… made friends with it?" Alma asks incredulously.

"Well, for a certain definition of friend, sure," I hedge, shrugging awkwardly. "I don't think Sela really likes us, but sh—gah, I mean it's super cool and it needs help. So I wanna help it! Best case scenario it does learn to like us and ends up less murderous, worst case scenario…"

I trail off, thinking about that for a moment.

"...I guess the worst case scenario is that we inadvertently cause a gray goo scenario and destroy all life in the universe? Buuuut that's probably really unlikely."

Alma gives me an incredulous look, then shakes her head and chuckles.

"You are insane," she says. "Didn't you say you were like, prophesied to cause an apocalypse or something?"

"No, I said that every prior isekai victim that the shady cult knows about has either caused an apocalypse or gotten murdered by said cult, likely without provocation. Trust me though, Alma, I see the red flags here. But what's the more common mistake: befriending a bad guy, or assuming someone is a bad guy and not even trying to befriend them? Sela is dangerous but I feel like it's also traumatized and trapped under someone else's control. It's a risk, but after what's happened to me I am so taking that risk if it means I might be able to help."

Fartbuns returns with the ball, and when Alma takes it and tosses it I feel that familiar urge to run off after the dog and tackle him to the ground. It's been getting a little harder to resist, if only because I really want to test out my new limbs a little more comprehensively. Still, I wait. Alma is more important.

"I guess that makes sense," she agrees, a little distantly. "Being born just to be used as a tool… no person deserves that."

"Well, Sela's pretty adamant that it isn't a person, which is kinda weird. Maybe I'm missing some cultural context behind the Middlebranch word for 'person,' but I don't think I am. It's just… anybody. Any sapient. Any individual of value. And Sela really seems like she's—biscuits, I mean it's all of those things. No way it's just a super-sophisticated program without self-awareness. I don't believe it."

"Huh," Alma says. "I dunno. It makes sense to me."

"What?" I ask. "Really?"

"I mean, yeah," she shrugs awkwardly. "Have you never felt like you're not a person?"

I open my mouth, but it takes me a while to find any words.

"I… you mean like the monster stuff?" I ask, fear filling me. "No, I… I mean, I'm not human anymore. Maybe I never was. But I'm still a person, you know?"

Alma smiles sadly, hugging her knees to her chest.

"That's not really what I meant," she says softly. "Never mind."

"Wh… no, it's… I'm sorry?" I babble. What did I do wrong?

"It's okay, you're fine," Alma assures me. "Don't worry about it."

What? What does she mean? Oh Goddess, is she okay?

"Sorry," I repeat. "I don't think I get it but I want to get it but if you don't want to explain that's fine."

She shakes her head.

"I'm not very good at explaining things," Alma mutters. "It's just… it makes sense to me. Even if 'person' has a denotative meaning of any self-aware entity, it… like, the denotative meaning isn't really the meaning, because… ugh. I don't know. Is a slave a person?"

I blink. An easy question, though given the context it feels like it's a trap.

"I… yes?" I say, because it doesn't matter if it's a setup, I can't say no. "Of course they are. That's like, why slavery is bad. N-not the only reason, but on the most basic, fundamental level. It abuses people."

"Right, okay," Alma nods. "But what if you told a slave that. You walk up to one, you tell them they're a person, and… you don't free them. Do you think that would make them feel good?"

I frown a little.

"I mean… I fully intend to free every slave I can," I say frankly. "Sela included, as long that doesn't result in it mass murdering innocent people. Because, y'know, that would be worse."

Alma groans like that was the wrong answer somehow.

"It's just hypothetical," she insists. "An allegory. It doesn't have to be slavery, it doesn't have to be you, I just… never mind."

"Sorry," I backpedal immediately. "Sorry, I'll answer the question. Would it make them feel good. Um. I guess it'd feel kind of empty? It's better than telling them they're not a person though, right?"

She opens her mouth, closes it, and then turns away from me, hugging herself protectively.

"Maybe at first," Alma admits. "But if you keep giving someone empty kindnesses for long enough it'll just start to hurt. If words aren't backed up by actions, they turn into knives."

I swallow nervously, taking in that thousand-yard stare on her face that I've seen in the mirror lately. Please, please, please let whatever's going on not be my fault. …Geez, is that really my first thought? I'm such a terrible person.

"Are you okay?" I ask quietly.

She jolts slightly, then glances at me with a lopsided grin.

"Oh, uh, I mean… not really, I guess," she chuckles. "Are you?"

Now that's a deflection I know too well. I don't think I should push her, though.

"Absolutely not," I confirm. "You wanna talk about literally anything else?"

"God, yes."

"Goddess," I correct, and she snorts, shoving me with her shoulder.

The casual contact lights my joy like sparks on kindling, and when Fartbuns returns I feel like the time is right. Alma and I both need a distraction. So when she tosses the ball I give her a quick squeeze and clear my throat.

"Hey, uh, don't freak out or anything," I assure her. "I'm not gonna kill the dog."

"W-what?" Alma stutters, and I burst after Fartbuns like a rocket.

The sense of power flowing through my legs as I dig my talons into soft earth, catapulting myself forward and closing the distance in just a few paces is intoxicating. Fuck, why did I hold back this long? I'm only using two legs and this already feels so right.

I tackle Fartbuns from behind, startling him for only a moment before he realizes that playtime has just gotten a lot more fun. He wriggles free from my grasp and I leap after him again, prompting him to juke to the side. Without even thinking about it, I dig a hip-limb into the dirt to arrest my momentum, swing around, and leap at him again. He's kind of slow, like playing tag with a child, but if anything that just makes me less worried I'll hurt him on instinct, my monstrous urges screaming "baby!" rather than "prey!"

Because that's the thing, isn't it? I might be going feral, but even feral beasts have friends and family. Lion cubs play with each other just as adorably as kittens do. I'm a monster, but I can still love. I can still be gentle.

I tackle Fartbuns again, surprised at his strength as he wrestles free of my arms. I guess my new supernatural body hasn't crawled up past my hands yet, but that's okay. Next time I catch him I wrap my legs around him too, propping myself up on my hip-limbs and blades and it just feels so good, they support my weight so well! Belly up or belly down, I can crawl and skitter at incredible speeds, turning on a dime, not needing to care about forward, backward, left or right… Goddess, I've missed moving like this. Thank you for giving it back to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. Something like a hiss leaks out from my throat, but it's merged with a jubilant trill, a purr of eldritch delight as drink in the utter freedom of my form. I love it, I love it, I love it so much!

"H-holy shit, Hannah!" Alma her face distorted with fear. But it's okay! I turn my head to her and grin to show that it's okay. It's amazing.

"Do you feel it, Alma?" I ask, my excitement bubbling over.

"What? What are you talking about!?"

"When you think about flying!" I clarify, halting my erratic movement and leaping back to my feet. "Do you have this much joy?"

"Oh," she says, relaxing considerably. "Uh… gosh. I mean, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to it, but…"

No? Does she not? But I want her to feel like this. I love her. I want her to have this joy. Wouldn't anybody? I fall forwards again, catching myself with my extra limbs and leaping to flip myself over, once, twice, three times. I giggle all the while.

"I just… Goddess, I feel so alive," I tell her. "I hope you feel like this someday."

I want you to feel like this. I want you to be like me. Fartbuns lets out a happy bark and nips playfully at my heels, so I pounce on him, wrapping him up in a big, fluffy, eight-limbed hug. He wriggles free, and the chase continues.

"H-hannah, I…" Alma starts, but then she shudders, her words caught in her throat.

"Alma?" I ask after her. Fuck, I love her. She's so beautiful. I want her to be this happy. I want her to feel this.

"Hannah, stop!" she cries out, clutching her stomach.

It takes me a split second to process that but then I screech to a halt, getting to my feet and glancing around in a panic. Stop what? What's going on? Fartbuns' tail wags up a storm, his excited panting showing no sign of injury. Alma herself is breathing hard for some reason, but… but why…?

"Alma!" I yelp, running towards her. "Are you okay!?"

"Get away!" she shouts back. "You're doing something!"

"I am!?"

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!"

Then I see it. Her wings twitch, starting to move in a way that isn't due to muscle. Oh, crapbaskets. My Transmutation spell!? I close my eyes, looking for the font of power inside me, and… shit. It's on. Of course it's on! I hammer it shut with willpower, halting the flow entirely.

"I stopped, I stopped!" I tell her, running forward. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I don't know how that happened!"

"You stopped!?" she shouts. "Then why's it still—"

She cuts her own words off with a scream, blood suddenly blooming over her tailbone as she falls to her knees. Her wings have grown a tiny bit but I realize suddenly that I hadn't noticed because most of her changes are internal. Musculature, bones… and especially her digestive system all feel wrong. Different. And as a great slit tears its way open on her lower back, her spine elongating and pushing the wound forward, I start to see why.

It's a mouth. She's growing a tail with a mouth on the end. That's… rather more disturbing than cute ears and a pair of wings.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, checking my magic again. The Transmutation spell is behaving. It's no longer active. So why is Alma still changing? For that matter, why did she start changing in the first place? I first exposed Autumn to this spell by accident after our date, but she didn't show any visible sign of transformation until days later. Either there's some other Transmutation spell affecting her—which doesn't even make any sense—or my spell must have an over-time effect. I hit her with it, and now she has… I dunno, the 'monster transformation' status condition, I guess, and it'll just do things until the condition goes away. Why was I casting it in the first place, though?

I just wanted her to be happy like I was. To revel in her nature like I can. To drown herself in intoxicating, bestial madness, like I do.

…To become a little less human, just for me. Oh, Goddess. I did want this to happen, didn't I?

"I'm sorry," I say, crying as I kneel down to hold her. "I'm so, so sorry. This is all my fault. I… I should just go. We shouldn't date. I'm not safe to be around, I—"

"No!" Alma shouts, her breathing rapid, her face terrified. Another thing I've seen in the mirror. A panic attack. "No no no no, I didn't mean it."

"Alma, I—"

"I'm sorry," she blurts. "I'm sorry, don't go. It's not your fault. You didn't mean to. You didn't mean to. I can take this. I'm sorry. Please don't leave me."

My eyes go wide. What?

I'm still reeling from the horrific apology when Autumn breaks my nose. Her body twists without warning, the heel of her palm smashing into the middle of my face, pain blooming as blood gushes from my twisted nostrils. While I'm still stunned she slips away from me, getting to her feet in a blink. Elbows down, arms up, her whole body facing forwards. Even her ears have stopped drooping, sticking up sharp and elf-like, alert and anticipatory.

The beast in the back of my head sees it as aggression, an offensive stance from a known threat, and as I get to my feet a furious hiss leaks out from my lips.

"Could you explain to me what just happened," Jet says evenly, "so I know how badly to kick your ass?"

"It was a mistake," I start.

"Oh, I've heard that one before," Jet growls, and lashes towards my face a second time.

I smack her fist away with a blade, and without thinking jab forwards with the other one, aiming to stab her heart. Panic makes me try to slow the strike, and that's apparently all Jet needs to grab my extra limb, yank me towards her and punch me hard in the gut. Fury, fear, and pain war inside me, and as usual fear wins. I move my limb away, shifting it instinctively in the direction she cannot block or restrain. My blades vanish from 3D space, sinking impossibly from view like trying to watch a single facet of a kaleidoscope.

Well. That's one problem figured out at least. Out of the frying pan, and all that.

"Jet, stop!" I plead, coughing painfully and stepping away as best I can. "You're transforming and bleeding! Alma was having a panic attack!"

She does, miraculously, stop.

"...Panic attack?" she says hesitantly.

"Yes!" I confirm between coughs. "What did you think was happening?"

"She… was freaked out," Jet says awkwardly. "Way beyond uncomfortable. Terrified of you. And you were touching us. So I thought… you know. The logical conclusion."

I gape at her, one hand managing the waterfall of blood coming from my nose. Did… did she think I was sexually assaulting them!?

"No," I whisper, horrified. "No, no, no, no, Jet I would never. Why would you…"

"Because it's the logical conclusion," she declares firmly, her fighting stance relaxing just a tad. "But I believe you when you say you weren't doing it, okay? Sorry. I just have a striking reflex when I come to with someone that close. Also, fuck you, my ass is bleeding."

"Wh… my face is bleeding!" I protest.

"How cute, we match," she deadpans. "Don't you have a spell for this?"

Huh? Oh, right. Duh. The Goddess arrives at the barest flicker of my intent, lounging like a cat in the sunbeam of our panic.

"Refresh," she says with a smile, and departs as I use the spell to manage Autumn's and my blood, keeping it moving how it's supposed to while the wounds patch themselves.

Jet takes a deep breath, centering herself before pawing at her lower back with one hand. She manages to find the new addition, a toothy bulge above her buttocks that's currently shivering like someone locked it in a freezer.

"...What the fuck is this?" Jet growls. Her own body responds by shifting some more, new vertebrae blooming on the end of her already-elongated spine as the tail thickens and extends by a half-inch all in one go. She staggers, dropping to one knee and clutching her stomach.

"Okay, yeah, definitely seeing why this caused a panic attack," she hisses. "The fuck did you do to us this time, Hannah?"

"I promise that none of this is on purpose," I insist to both myself and her. "We should probably go inside?"

"...Yes," Jet agrees, glancing around. She reaches for her notebook briefly, hesitates, and instead just turns to me. "Are we still at Brendan's place?"

"Yeah, this is his backyard," I confirm, a slight smile on my face. Does it help that she has someone she can just ask? I hope it does.

"It's, uh, pretty roomy."

'Yeah, I doubt anyone can see us out here, but like… we should go inside for mirrors and bandages and stuff."

"Right."

We shuffle inside and I point Jet towards a bathroom before yelling down the stairs at Brendan.

"Hey, uh, do you guys have a first aid kit? I broke my nose!"

"We do, top shelf of the bathroom cupboard. Ida texted and she should be back in like ten minutes, though," Brendan yells back. "Anything worse than a broken nose?"

"Uh. Just. Some mutations on Autumn?"

"Oh, is that all," Brendan groans. "Hannah, can you even go an hour without something catastrophic happening?"

I pout, not that he can see it. There's no need to be rude!

"Start a timer and let's find out!" I quip back at him. "I'm gonna go help Jet!"

I rush back to the bathroom, hearing Jet quietly swear to herself. Peeking my head around the corner, I spot her with the door open, pants halfway down her butt so she can point her growing tail at the mirror and crane her neck around to spot it. Gosh, she uh. She has a really nice butt.

"If you're just going to gawk, I don't really want your help," Jet grunts.

"Oh!" I yelp, stepping into the room and fishing out the first aid kit. "S-sorry! Here you go!"

"I don't think I need that," Jet scowls. "Your spell stopped working when you ran off, but the cuts were already healed. Now this thing is just… continuing to grow."

I manage to peel my eyes away from how Autumn's bum squishes up against the edge of the bathroom counter and look slightly above that, where her tail is emerging from her spine like some kind of monstrous parasitic worm. Needless to say, this is a substantially less appealing sight. The tail is a dark gray, covered with rough, scale-like ridges that seem strangely unnatural. It's a girthy, cylindrical thing, about the same radius as one of her thighs, and it stays the same thickness for its full length—currently a whole foot and slowly rising—all the way until the end, where a monstrous, blade-toothed mouth shivers and twists, always in motion. Around the base of the tail, the scales creep up across her skin as well, changing from that unpleasant gray to a vibrant red in glimmering pockmarks up her lower back.

"...Woah," I manage eloquently, squinting a little as if that helps at all with my spatial sense. "...I think you might have a working digestive system in there. Or at least the start of one."

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Jet growls. "Damn it, I take back every good thing I've ever said about magic."

"Well, you might still be able to hide it with magic," I hedge, ignoring the spike of terror I feel thinking about Jet's Pneuma spell.

"Yeah, but Alma can't!" Jet sighs. "We tried. I can't use her nonsense house magic and she can't use my concealment spell."

"Well, crap, okay," I scowl. "That kinda makes sense. You might have to name it? I don't know if you qualify as a valid teacher for her, but…"

"I'm not doing that either way," Jet dismisses. "You said that naming a spell is dangerous, and I know better than to mess with anything that even your dumb ass is afraid of. God, what the fuck is happening to me? I hate this. I hate this, Hannah. I hate having to deal with you. Can't you just leave us alone?"

At those words, Jet's tail whips around, the mouth latching onto her own leg and chomping down, drawing blood even through her pants.

"Ow! Motherfucker!" Jet roars, swatting at her own tail. "What the hell!?"

Her tail lets go, bearing its now-bloodied fangs and chomping its teeth together in furious protest. It's not connected to a respiratory system at all and it can't speak, but… well, it seems fairly obvious that Jet's not controlling it. It… it couldn't be, right?

"Uh," I say hesitantly. "Is that… Alma?"

"I mean, making me bleed for daring to try to help her seems like a pretty fucking Alma thing to do," Jet growls. "Shit. Shit shit shit. She's not trapped in there, is she?"

I don't answer, because Jet says this while taking her pants all the way off so she can bandage up her thigh.

"Alma, if that's you, can you indicate it somehow?" Jet asks. "Preferably without biting?"

The tail continues gnashing at the air, seemingly oblivious to the question.

"Well fuck if I know what that means," Jet grunts. "Any clues, magic bug girl?"

Ack! Right! I close my eyes, shake my head, and focus.

"...Your tail doesn't seem to have anything in it that feels like it could be a brain," I hedge, looking it over as best I can without quite seeing anything. "If you're not consciously controlling it, maybe you're subconsciously controlling it? Like, you've mentioned getting flashes and impressions from Alma when you're… uh, fronting, you said?"

"Yeah," Jet grumbles, giving her bloody leg one last scowl before putting her pants back on. "So either I'm subconsciously really interested in biting my own legs off, or this is like… a not-fully-conscious version of Alma? Maybe? Fuck, this is pointless to guess at, you can just ask her when we swap again later."

"Uh, hopefully you didn't just jinx that," I shudder. "I don't want to think about the possibility of you two being stuck like this."

"That would be stupid," Jet grunts. "If anything, we'd be stuck the other way around. Besides, maybe we just have a tail that hates us both equally. An entire body part dedicated to self-harm seems on brand."

Uh. Geez. Okay, that one was a bit too heavy to let slide.

"I'm starting to think you two might have some measure of unprocessed issues," I say hesitantly.

"Gee Nancy Drew, what tipped you off?" Jet drawls, sitting down on the floor. Her tail immediately starts gnawing at the bathroom mat. "Our therapist says our condition is 'traumagenic,' actually. As in, I was literally born—or created or whatever—in response to a traumatic event so serious our brain had to compartmentalize an entire new person into being. Which, y'know, is a super fun thing to be told by a medical professional. Congratulations, it's a mental condition! My mommy is Alma and my daddy is…"

She trails off, letting out a slow breath.

"Well. Never mind. Terrible metaphor," she says. "I'm not really supposed to focus on that anyway. Where I come from isn't as important as who I am, and all that."

I notice, then, that her tail has gone still. Now it's her hands that can't stop moving, shaking and fidgeting in ways I don't think she even notices as she stares at her own knees. I'm at a loss for words, but fortunately Jet seems more than capable of carrying the conversation despite me.

"...Speaking of therapy, shouldn't you be getting like… all of it?"

Aw beans. Did I say 'fortunately?' I meant 'unfortunately.'

"I, uh, do actually go to therapy tomorrow," I mutter. "My mom's making me."

"Mmm. Good of your mom," Jet nods. I scowl at her.

"Is it?" I snap. "Like, what am I gonna say? 'Hi, I've killed a bunch of people and stopped being human! Check out my extra limbs!'"

"I mean… you can keep it vague," Jet shrugs. "I had therapy on Wednesday and I didn't bring up any of the new body parts, nor will I bring them up today. I'll just… stick the worm in a long skirt or something, I guess. Alma and I have stuff to work through beyond magic bullshit, and… I mean, no offense but you seem like you probably do too."

"Uh. How often do you go to therapy?" I ask hesitantly.

"Three times a week," she shrugs.

Holy ravioli I can't even imagine how awful that would be.

"Are you sure you don't wanna like… skip today?" I ask nervously. "Like, with the whole tail thing…?"

"I can't really skip, Hannah," Jet shrugs. "It's court-ordered."

"Oh," I say dumbly. Right. Alma did mention that Jet got them arrested, huh? "Do you, um…"

"Yes, you can ask what I did," Jet says, rolling her eyes. "Burglary. Regular old Robin Hooding. I would break into rich houses and steal expensive crap nobody needs to pay the bills. It was pretty much that or we would lose our house, since my dad is… worthless."

I resist the urge to let fear onto my face, a mental image of some faceless person smashing a window and crawling into my house at night chilling me to the core.

"...Isn't that really dangerous?" I ask hesitantly.

"It certainly is for me," Jet grouses. "I'm very intimately aware of the fact that some people think shooting me in the face for taking their wife's fucking blood diamonds is an appropriate response, but it's not like I was stupid about it. You stake out a place, determine when the occupants are away for work, and go during the day. I bring no weapons and just get in and out without interacting with anybody. All of which helped reduce my sentence when I inevitably got cocky and got caught."

She shrugs.

"Good news is, a sizable combination of factors—like Alma legitimately not remembering any of it—helped me get off way lighter than I expected and I ended up with therapy instead of jail. Bad news is, I still have to pay for my own court-ordered therapy, which kinda just makes the whole problem way worse, and it's a little more difficult to find time to commit crimes when you have a probation officer checking your class attendance."

"Couldn't you… I dunno. Get a job?" I ask desperately.

"I probably should, just to stretch the buffer a bit longer, but… how much do you make?"

"Uh. Thirteen dollars an hour, twenty hours a week, so…"

"Like a thousand dollars a month, after tax?" Jet asks, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah. That's not gonna come close to denting the bills. We'll be okay, though. This is the home stretch. A normal job can probably support us if we get like… a cheap apartment and three roommates. We just have to survive until we're eighteen and can detach ourselves from our parasite of a father."

Jet's tail twists around and nips her on the arm at that, and she swears again.

"Fuck off, Alma," she grouses. "We are ditching his ass and that's final."

The horrific worm-tail twitches irritably like a cat disapproving of how it's being pet, but declines to inflict any further injury.

"As usual, you are taking this almost concerning well," I say, staring at the tail as it flops around.

"I assure you I am freaking the fuck out on the inside," Jet answers flatly. "Alma imprinting on a woman who literally metamorphs our body into some fucked-up chimera the more we spend time with her seems more like a hilariously poignant metaphor than real life, but since I'm nonetheless living it I have to find a way to deal."

I grimace, squatting down next to her.

"...You, uh, really don't like me, huh?" I manage.

"It's not like I hate you," Jet shrugs. "You're just… a constant problem that I have to mitigate, possibly forever."

Wow. I, uh, think I would have preferred if she'd just said 'yes.'

"Well, if there's anything I can do to help offset that, just let me know," I answer. "I wanna at least be your friend. I wanna be worthy of that. I feel like everyone else has been going out of their way to help me, but I haven't gotten to do anything in return for you."

Jet stares at me for a moment, then shrugs again. She is very shruggy.

"I'll let you know if anything comes up," she answers noncommittally.

Hey, I'll take it. In fact, I preempt a bit of helpfulness and give her some tips on binding up a new errant body part, helping her wrap up her tail so that it's bound up against her back. Ida arrives shortly afterwards, healing my nose with a few quips and handing me a bunch of new bras and outfits.

"...Wait, did I ever tell you my bra size?"

"Nah, I just swiped it from all the underwear we took from your house," Ida shrugs. "Do you even need these backless things anymore, though? Your, uh, leg problem seems to have solved itself."

"Huh?" I say. "Oh, right!"

I shift my extra limbs, pulling them back into w=0 space so my friends can see them.

"They're still here, see?" I assure Ida. "And it'd be nice to not have to destroy my underwear whenever I need to use them, so… I think these will be really helpful! Thank you so much!"

"Uh, you're welcome, I guess," Ida shrugs.

"Do you, uh, anticipate a situation where you'll 'need to use them?'" Jet asks hesitantly.

"Huh, good question," I muse, leaning back to let my hip-legs take my weight. "I may as well have them on stream tonight, at least. I'm officially out online. …As a monster, I mean."

"Woah. On your little nerd show?" Ida asks, raising her eyebrows. "Didn't think you had the balls, Hannah Banana."

Jet gives a long-suffering sigh.

"...What's the link," she grumbles. "Alma will probably want to see it."

Straining against its bindings, her tail wiggles happily. I grin.

"I'll send it to you," I promise.

We chatter a bit more, and before long school is over and it's time for me to head home and pretend I actually went there. Ida helps me smuggle my comforter and new clothes home, Autumn heads off to therapy (aaaaaaaaaah!) and Brendan remains cooped up alone in his basement because he's still a bit overstimulated, the poor goober. It's fine. It's fine! Today had some freaky moments. I accidentally turned up the mutation juice on my girlfriend. I am probably a direct hazard to everyone I know and love. But it's fine, because I get to lock myself in my room and play Pokémon.

"Hey everyone!" I grin, reveling in the thrill of showing off my teeth. "Welcome back!"

My heart races as I sit poised and perfect, just far enough away from the camera that my extra legs are visible where they dangle off the sides of the chair, and the blades are sitting comfortably forwards without blocking my face.

[Xenoversal]: Woah, model upgrade.

[LavAbsol]: Hi, DD! Gosh, you look so cool!

[SwalotRancher]: It is time to kick Whitney's ass

[Apparently_A_Chimera]: Ah! You're really here! This is so neat!

I chuckle, watching the greetings roll by as I boot up SoulSilver. Barring the addition of one of my new bras and the subtraction of all the grass stains, I'm wearing the same clothes as I was earlier today, and it's weirdly empowering. I didn't really doll myself up for this session, I just did the basics and jumped right into it. I'm not even wearing socks right now, not that I'll ever let the camera see low enough for it to matter. Still, I feel… I dunno. Weirdly feisty.

Stretching my arms above my head I set out a massive yawn, arcing my back and really putting my whole body into it. My jaw opens wide, way too wide, my chin nearly touching my throat even as my head tilts back. My extra limbs all join the stretch, blades twisting and rotating to their limits. It feels good. Not just the stretch itself, but the show of it, the utter vulnerability I can show and still exude confidence. I am the apex predator here, and this is my domain.

[PentUp]: what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

[Zoroa!Queen]: Oh hey it's this stream again

[AllTricks]: ok the bit is cool and all but can we just play pogeyman

[PentUp]: That is NOT HOW VTUBER RIGS WORK

"Well, it's not actually a bit, you know?" I admit conspiratorially. "I really look like this. I really am this. It's weird to say out loud. Maybe I can feel comfortable admitting that here because we live in a world of crazy deepfake nonsense and I know that absolutely none of you are going to believe me. Which is like, super fair! What else would you do when some random internet streamer casually goes 'oh yeah, magic is real and I'm turning into a monster.' It's insane, right? The idea that it's anything but a publicity stunt is just… silly."

The game boots up and I spare a few moments to glance at my team and figure out what the heck I was doing. Goldenrod. Whitney. Third gym. Right.

"But it's still really scary for me, you know?" I say. "Playing games is something I do for fun, that I do to unwind. You guys get to see me relatively relaxed. But in my actual life? I'm freaking out literally all the time, bundling up in these bulky outfits and looking like a total dweeb because I have to hide the fact that I've somehow smuggled four extra limbs onto a humanoid torso and I'm pretty sure I'm due for two more any day now. For all I know the men in black are gonna come knocking at my door one day and then I'll never be seen again. But still, it's just… exhausting to hide all the time. Painful, almost."

I cross my arms, taking my hands off the keyboard and using my alien limbs to control the game. All in view of the camera. It's a bit clumsy, but only a bit.

"So screw it! I don't care if the internet knows. Magic is real. I'm a mutant. These are facts and if you don't believe them, that makes perfect sense to me. It's all still true, though. Now let's play some Pokémon."

My speech goes mostly ignored, because of course it does. That's okay. I don't really want this to be a big reveal, I just want to get it all off my chest. I'm not going to have the patience—or more importantly, the fear—to keep hiding much longer. I'm too burnt out by it, and being my true self is too satisfying. It's high time I cast the dice and let them fall how they may.

My view count ticks higher and higher as the stream goes on, eventually breaking my personal record by a factor of ten.