Julian walked off at an unsurprisingly brisk pace, tension evident in his gait like he was having to work to keep from running. Billy went from crying to full-on bawling as she went back into the house, thinking back on what just happened. Why'd he have to be so mean!? Wasn't he s'posed to be her...her friend? He had made fun of her, said she wasn't cool, and picked her up by the tails - that hurt! If Stacy hadn't shown up...
The squirrel-girl breathed a little sigh of relief as she felt strong grown-up arms around her. She looked up to see her mom.
"Are you okay, honey?" she asked. "What happened out there? Stacy, what on Earth...?"
"H-he was m-mean to me!" Billy sobbed. "He said I wasn' cool an' he was usin' bad words an' he grabbed my tails! An' I...I couldn't stop'm!" she wailed.
Stacy nodded. "He was getting really violent, mom."
Mrs. Gordon sighed. Always knew he was trouble, she thought. But saying so wouldn't help anything right now. She hefted her little daughter into the air, holding her firmly but gently as she carried her over into the living room. It...it felt weird to be held against her mom's belly, but she was small enough that her mom wasn't worried about it, she guessed. "It's all right, Billy," she said, placing her on the couch. "He's gone, and we won't let him visit here anymore if he's going to be like that. Honey, if someone starts treating you like that, you need to tell a grownup right away, okay?"
That started her bawling anew. "I coulda stopped'm!" she cried. "I coulda! If wasn't a littl' girl I coulda-" She broke off, sobbing. Her mother gently shushed her. "Billy, honey," she said, "even if you were a big kid again, I wouldn't want you getting in a fight just because he was being a jerk. I know it's frustrating for you, being little again, but you'll grow back up again in time."
"I d-don't wanna!" the squirrel-girl cried. "I don't wanna grow up inta a...a lady! I wanna be a big boy again! I don't wanna be a little kid anymore..."
"I know you don't," her mom said. "But this is just how it is now. Even if something changes and they figure out how to change people back, it might be a long time before you can use it - you remember how Dad talks about getting approvals? You'd probably be well into growing back up by then. For now, you just need to accept this, honey. There's nothing wrong or shameful about being a little kid, you know. There's parts of it that are hard, but there are parts that are good, too, just like there are to being a grownup."
She sniffled. "R-really?"
"Really. I think you should just accept your time as a little kid, honey. Learn to enjoy it for what it is, and trust that the parts you don't like will go away, whether that's because of something Dad's people figure out, or because you grew up and they went away on their own."
Billy stared at her mother. Did she...did she really mean that? That she should just try to be happy being turned into a little girl? Really? But...Jenny seemed to like it...
Abigail found her husband waiting in the kitchen, just out of sight from the living room, but not out of earshot. He sighed. "Abby, dear," he said, "...do you really think that's a good idea? If he...if she tries to be what she is now, and then we figure out how to change her back and she's started to acclimate to what we're ready to take away from her..."
She nodded. "I know, I know. But Les, honey, our children need us now. We can't put off helping them with their present troubles just because it might interfere with something that might happen in the future."
He balked. "Might happen?" He would find a way, he'd-! No. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. She hadn't meant anything like that, she was just speaking pragmatically. And he could see her point.
On the other hand, he'd read enough about this stuff to know that coping mechanisms could set in even stronger than the issues they aided in dealing with, even to the point of persisting after the actual problem was gone. If his kids adjusted to their new forms strongly enough, and only then did they discover how to change them back, what would they do then? It would be let them continue as what they now were, in opposition to what they were born as and what they were, presently, desiring to get back to being, or change them back and watch them struggle through re-adjusting, for God knew how long. How could he doom his children to either fate?
His wife brushed a hand across his forehead. "Leslie," she said, "you're a good man and a brilliant one, and you're going far above and beyond the call of duty trying to help them and everybody else. And you know how proud I am of you for it. But first and foremost, honey, you're their father, not their doctor."
He sighed. "Thank you, Abby," he said. "It's just...the way you're looking at it, we're faced with...re-molding them, or...letting them be re-molded. No parent should have to make this choice..."
She shook her head. "No, they shouldn't. But hon, we are. We can't change that, and if we ignore the problem while trying to come up with a better solution, we'll get the worse of the two choices. We need to decide what's best for them, because doing nothing would be worse."
He sighed. How could he be expected to face this? A little more time, that was all he asked! Just a little more time to find a better way! But time waits for no man...it wasn't like he could just keep his children in stasis while they figured this out. Still...
"I...I can't do this," he whispered. "I can't tell them...they should just forget about...about..."
Abigail shook her head, and kissed her husband gently. "We don't have to go that far," she said. "If we can only open their minds to the idea of living with it, really living with it and not just hiding away any time the issue comes up, that should be enough..."
She was, in fact, back in the cell with the whore, or rather next door to her. And things had not much improved. She doubted they would ever truly consider her words, even if they read them - surely, if they did read with an open heart they would know she was only doing God's will! But they were simply looking at her and saying "arson," as if she'd wanted to burn her own church!
And this feeling still haunted her. Even with...with the policeman...gone, the thoughts still danced at the edges of her brain, darting teasingly in and out of her conscious mind and sending her off into little fugues. Her tail had yet to make the move she'd been dreading since it had started moving of its own accord, but she'd grabbed hold of it nonetheless, just in case. But this left both hands occupied, with nothing to cover her breasts, the nipples of which had begun to poke out underneath the shirt she'd been lent...
"Augh!" she groaned, the sound once again more like what her body was feeling than like the distress her spirit was in. Why was this happening? Why couldn't she make it stop? As a man she'd known every trick there was to killing these feelings, to purifying one's thoughts, but as...as a woman? She knew nothing at all but what her body was telling her, the different parts begging for attention, begging...to be touched...
NO! How could this happen? How could God allow it? Scripture clearly said that He would never allow one of His children to be presented with insurmountable temptation - yet here she was with her own body dragging her into sin against her will! How could this be!?
"You know, you might as well just get it over with," the hooker said, a note of disgust in her voice. "Go on, I've seen worse."
Robert flushed angrily. "No! I will not give in! I will hold onto my purity!"
"Oh, sure. 'Purity.' You can be just shy of impaling yourself on your own tail, but as long as you never move that final fraction of an inch, that's 'pure.'" She snorted. "Pure like a sealed container, maybe. Pure like snack food that's more preservatives than it is actual ingredients. Bet you've never even masturbated, right?"
"SHUT UP!" the transformed pastor seethed. "STOP! STOP!"
"I got a better idea," the woman said. "How about you stop listening? Only I don't think you can, 'cause you know...not that I'm right, I don't even know I'm right, but I think you know you're wrong."
She smiled smugly. "You know what I think?" she said. "I think you probably spent so long bottling everything up inside that you forgot what it was to feel any of this. I think you focused so hard on preserving yourself you forgot what you were preserving it for. Not even a man, really, just a kind of...I dunno, even the statue-people feel more than you."
Robert scowled. If only she had her hands free, if only she could block out this witch's words!
The prostitute grinned saucily. "But all of a sudden you slip up and bam! You're a woman. And all of a sudden you're under assault by the Planet Venus versions of all the feelings you killed before, all those years of pent-up energy, and you don't know how to handle any of it. Right?" She waited, but the devil-woman said nothing.
She spat. "You're pathetic. How far are you gonna go to keep up this lie? Who're you trying to fool? I can tell what you're thinking. Bet the cops could tell, too. Your own body knows what it wants. And if your God is out there after all, he sure as hell knows what's going on in your head - and everywhere else. The only person you could possibly be fooling is yourself, girl. But you'll hold onto that last defense for all it's worth and run from the most natural things in the world just so long as you can tell yourself your 'purity' is intact, won't you?" She made a guttural noise of disgust and sat back down, turning her back to the devil-woman.
Robert fumed. She could still hear the woman's words, interspersed with the fantasies that flitted in and out of her mind. Shut up, shut up! Why wouldn't it go away? She had to...had to get her thoughts elsewhere...had to...think of something else...
