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Lurker Surprise

by Luke Allen

Of course it would have to happen to Roger B. Lurk. He had joined the TSA list two months ago, wasn't species-dysphoric at all (just thought TFs were kinky), and didn't even have an IRC client. He divided his computer time between Quake, FurryMUCK, and TSA-talk nearly evenly. Two days before, he completely forgot about checking his mailbox, and spent the next day reading through a hundred and twelve pieces of email from the list. Seems a nut named Phaedrus was running a writing contest and all the lurkers were coming out of the woodworks for this one.

He went to sleep thinking about the stories he had read and the grappling hook patch for which he was figuring out intuitive key bindings . He was almost asleep when his foot started tingling. "Wow, it feels like bones are reshaping, tendons stretching, fur growing, all that stuff." He reached down and found a completely human foot. He sighed and thought, "Darn. I guess it'll never happen." He played with himself to thoughts of cutting off his tongue with a magic knife and putting it in the vagina he didn't have, and went to sleep afterwards.

Roger's dreams were of becoming a centaur and using a grappling hook to get through Doom2 in coop mode with a horse, a donkey, a racoon, a deer, a sheep, a porcupine, a wolf, and a two-headed blue dragon. Finally they reached the spider mastermind, but it turned into his dog and started barking and growling. He woke with a start, realizing that his dog was barking nervously at him. He said, "Wha's wong gil", realized his tongue was very thin and didn't work the same way, and reached toward his mouth with one hand. His heart pounded in his chest as he saw his *green* *scaly* *four-fingered* hand. Kokamo had stopped barking as soon as she heard his voice, but was cowering in the corner of his room. Roger brought out his other hand and felt the smooth scales slide against each other. His forked tongue flicked out subconciously, startling him as the smells of his room filled his mouth. Remembering a story from the TSA, he classified the worst smell as *dog Kokamo scared/nervous* and the second worst, with embarassment, as *human Roger sweat/semen*. Disconcertingly, there was a hint of *reptile Roger scales* on the pillow. He got out of bed and closed the door. At six in the morning, with the dog barking and whining, he didn't want his parents or sisters wandering in and finding him a humanoid lizard (or a lizardoid human).

Roger looked down at himself, standing plantigrade on four-toed green feet. He blanched at a thought and reached into his boxers, finding the normal equipment in place, and in the same shape as before. Sighing with relief (and a hint of regret), he turned to the mirror. His head was approximately the same shape, but his nose and mouth had combined in a short blunt snout, with thin green lips, dark small nostrils, and small sharp teeth. His biggest surprises were his lack of external ears and a short shock of bright orange hair. He put his hands to his face, feeling the smooth fine scales of his fingers against the slightly larger scales of his snout (as he was already thinking of it).

Kokamo was shaking, ears flat, eyes open wide as Roger edged toward her. "Ssh girl, it's alright," he said, "I'm still the same basically, I guess." She whined as he petted her, but she calmed slightly. Roger grinned, then realized. "I've *transformed*. I wonder if anyone else has." He pulled on his robe and tiptoed into the hallway. His 16-year-old sisters' human faces were barely visible. Creeping upstairs, he saw his parents sleeping, still pink. His tongue flicked out, and he confirmed the absence of anything but *human Mom*, *human Dad*, and *dog Kokamo*. Silently working his way back to his room, Roger thought it over.

"I guess Winds of Change is out. I haven't ever been to a costume party, the last time I had the flu was two years ago, and I haven't seen the SRU shop at the mall, which I last visited a month ago. My shoes are the same pair I've had for a year, and I don't remember signing my soul off to the devil or his minions. Which means I'm probably the only one. Either that, or those guys on the list are also changed. Now how to announce this?"

He snapped his fingers and fired up ClarisWorks. His parents and sisters found out at 8:37, and he explained, "I feel like normal, except scaly, four-fingered, hard-of-hearing, warm, and I can smell a lot better." He ate breakfast (poached eggs and toast) carefully, being sure not to bite his long forked black tongue, and didn't feel sick, so he assumed his digestive system was unchanged.  By 1:40 he had a story that appeared to be for the contest, but was a retelling of the morning's events. Chowing down on a bag of Hain White Cheddar Mini Popcorn Rice Cakes, he sent the story off, then checked his mail. There was the "IRC Help" thread dying off, more entries (mostly on the personal change topic), a couple of stories in other universes, and the usual three-line-per-message chatter. Grinning, he exited Netscape and logged onto FurryMUCK, transporting to the Pool of Dragons to tell his friends.

Copyright 1997: Luke Allen <lallen@nmt.edu.nospam> . If you want to post this anywhere else, please ask the author for permission first.       Thank you

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