Steven settled on a simple white T-shirt - she'd always been a casual dresser, and that wasn't going to change just because she was a girl now. She curled her petal-blouse in fairly tight and slipped the shirt on, carefully easing it over the flower on her head. She didn't know that it was really all that delicate, but no sense taking the chance - it was her part of body, or so her mother contended.
The effect...was not quite what she'd hoped. When she relaxed her "grip" and let her petals return to their resting position, the way they curved out far enough to leave her nipple-flowers free and clear meant they tented out her shirt more than her actual breasts did, and since they described a fairly simple curve from her collarbones over her breasts and around to the bottom of her ribcage, it left her looking...significantly more endowed than she was.
Not what she had wanted. And it was kind of tight, too; the shirt would've fit normally, what with just having been measured for her on Friday night, but those measurements had considered her actual bust, not the new protective covering it had just developed. Still...she'd make do with it, she supposed.
The flower-girl still wasn't sure what she thought of going out in public in just her petal-skirt, but she didn't have any plans for the day, so...yeah, it would do. She still put on underwear beneath it despite its pretty decent coverage; "casual" only extended so far, certainly not to going commando in a skirt.
As dressed as she was going to get, Steven headed back downstairs, where she found her mother drinking a glass of water. "Hello, dear," the older plant-woman said. "How is the new addition working out for you?"
Steven frowned and shrugged. "It...it works, I guess. A little tight now, but it keeps things from getting squashed. It's just..." She sighed.
"Yes, dear? What is it?"
She gazed at the floor. "I'm...I want this to be done. I want to know what I have to deal with. I keep thinking this is it, and then something new comes up...what's it going to be next?"
Her mother nodded and unfurled one side of her leaf-cloak, wrapping it around Steven and drawing her daughter into her embrace. The flower-girl was a little embarassed when she realized her mother was naked inside of it, but...somehow it seemed appropriate. She looked up at her mom, feeling...scared.
"It'll be all right," her mom said, soothingly. "You've already handled so much in the last two days, you know...and you got along for two whole weeks before that without anybody to help you. You can handle whatever the sun throws at you, Steven. I can't promise it'll be easy, but I know you can do it."
She smiled. "Besides...in my opinion? I think you are done. This last piece...seems like it completes you, dear. Aesthetically speaking, that is."
Steven frowned. "But you're proof that it can go further than that! What if I...I dunno, turn green, or...?"
"What if you do?" her mother asked. "If you can handle all of this, you can certainly handle a little pigment change. But I think you won't, honey. And as for the tightness thing, why don't you just take it off? There's really no need anymore."
The flower-girl frowned. "What? I can't just go around in...I mean, that's not even real clothes! And besides, it doesn't cover my back..."
"No, but it covers everything that people get too worked up about," the plant-woman said. "Besides...the backless look suits you, I think. Do what you want, dear, but if you ask me you've already got a perfectly lovely outfit."
Steven's mind reeled slightly. Her mother had always been...a bit of a whimsical free-spirit type, under the common-sense demeanor, but it seemed like ever since her change it had been brought closer to the surface...
Hiro wanted to run. Had to run. But all his mental energy was focused on watching the wolf and keeping his mind in the fight. How was he doing? Arm damage...minor. Smallish puncture wounds, but his deft movements had prevented serious tearing. Slight blood loss as clotting took place, nothing major. So far, so good, except for the part where he had no idea how to get out of this one.
If he turned and ran, Julian would spring from behind, and while his back radar was good enough to detect that, it would still leave him with no defense and not likely enough time to turn around. On the other hand, if he stayed here, the presence would find him...
He could block the wolf's attacks with his robotic parts, but it was possible Julian would keep going until he got in enough hits to actually impair the cyborg...he was tenacious even before becoming a wolf.
But he couldn't just go all-out on his opponent! He didn't want Julian injured, let alone killed! He'd have to...have to figure something out! And then he'd have to get away while the presence-
The Presence was here.
Panicking, he looked around. Where was it? He had to know which way to-
Julian was upon him, his teeth in Hiro's arm again. The cyborg yelled in pain, but a moment later there was a flash of metal and a canine yelp, and his arm was free, his attacker crumpled on the sidewalk and clutching his abdomen. Hiro looked to see a gynoid, like a full-fledged Hollywood robot, a human-like construction of chrome and plastics, but possessed of all the grace and presence of a real woman. Somehow he recognized her...she was the attacker from last night!
"You!" she said, looking at him. "Don't go anywhere. I want to hear from both of you what this is all about."
"D-do we really have to do this?" Sarah asked. She knew she needed it, but at the same time...
"Oh, it'll be fine," Iris said. "You're welcome to stick to your own methods if you like, but I do think this is probably the best solution."
The harpy sighed. She did need this...she hadn't had a real cleaning since...well, since the sun changed. She'd been making do with bird-style splash baths and hot rinses in the shower, but after over a month of only that, she felt grungy and...animal, and not in a "I'm a harpy now, so it's okay" kind of way. She shrugged and stepped over to the shower.
The drider-woman undressed and joined her; luckily the master bath had an improbably large shower stall. "It's all right," her aunt said. "Seems weird, I know, but a lot of things are weird these days." She started the shower and then let her niece twirl underneath the head, savoring the hot water and the way it washed away the accumulated grime...
It was embarassing for Sarah to let someone else scrub her down, but with no hands it would've been difficult to do herself, and her aunt was gentle and careful about it, steering clear of the feathers, which she wasn't sure were supposed to be treated in this way. It was good to be getting clean...well, there was a little part of her, that part that was continually, subtly drawing her further into harpydom and away from "normal" humanity, that found it silly and unnecessary, but she overruled it. Besides, it just felt good.
"You have lovely hair, dear," Iris said as she worked the conditioner into it. "I'm glad you let it grow out."
Sarah smiled wistfully; originally, the reason she'd grown it out was because she figured guys liked long blonde hair and it would complement her then-blossoming breasts. Back in that other life, when she'd been on the rise to eventually become the most popular girl in the school...it seemed so distant. Now she was something else entirely, not exactly an outcast but entirely removed from the "popular" consideration.
She kind of wondered what would become of her life now. This first week of school...had not gone all that well, by her standards. Maybe it would get better, but...what kind of people would be interested in being friends with someone...something like her? She prayed there weren't any freaks who'd see her as a fetish object, but she still wanted people to find her attractive...
They finished up Sarah's shower, and Iris took a minute to clean herself up. They stepped out and her aunt towelled her off, then she sat while Iris brushed out her hair and blowdried it. When they were done with that...why did she feel like she was forgetting something? There was something left to be done, but they'd done all the normal steps...was it a harpy thing? She tried to feel what it was she needed to do.
Sarah angled her tail upwards, then ran her wingtip just underneath the base. It came away with a layer of an oily substance on it; she was a bit freaked out by this, but she knew what she needed to do, and began to rub it across the rest of her plumage. "Preen oil," Iris said. "From the gland under the tail. Helps to preserve the feathers and keep parasites out. You're lucky, you know; real birds use their head for that."
Sarah cringed at the thought. "How...do you know that?" she asked, as she continued to...to preen her feathers.
The drider-woman smiled, putting her top back on after drying herself. "I did some reading up on the trip," she said. "I figured if I was going to be assisting a harpy I ought to know what I was doing."
Sarah smiled; her aunt was weird, but never let it be said she wasn't a helpful soul. She finished her preening and stood up, twirling happily, wings raised high, and then struck a little pose in the mirror. She felt better and she looked better as well, Iris laughed. "You're lovely, Sarah," she said. "This suits you so nicely..."
Sarah sighed happily. Her aunt was right...it did suit her, didn't it? She did feel a little homesick for her old body, but...almost every part that had mattered was still here. She did miss her hands, but on the other hand, she enjoyed flying now that she'd gotten used to it. And her legs, her bird legs with scaley yellow skin...they fit the theme, she supposed, and maybe they even looked pleasant, but on the other hand...well, her legs had never been her best aspect anyway, at least. She could deal with it - and certainly the talons were indispensible now that she was without proper hands.
Iris glanced over towards the toilet. "Oh?" she said, "what's this?" She stepped over closer, her chitinous legs clattering on the linoleum, and picked something up from behind the toilet. Sarah felt a brief sinking feeling when she saw it, a painful and frightening memory replaying itself in her mind. No, no, that was over with. Mom and Dad were...were sane again.
"It's, uh, one of mine," she said. Iris turned the egg this way and that, looking it over - a little bit smaller than an ostrich egg, cream-colored with brown speckles. It must have rolled back there after her mother had chased her out, Sarah thought.
"Um, careful with that," she said. "It's over a week old, it's...probably rotten," she said, staring at the floor.
"I suppose so," the drider said. "Oh, don't look so embarassed. It's perfectly natural, nothing to be ashamed of. We'll just get it out of here. Shall we throw it out, or do you want to...do something a little more respectful?"
Sarah frowned for a moment, not really sure she understood. Why would she want to...oh. She supposed, from a certain point of view, one could look at the egg as a potential child...on the other hand, it wasn't. It wasn't fertilized, so it couldn't possibly have developed into a baby. And that was true as a human, too.
"...not really," she said. "I mean, you don't have a funeral for tampons or anything."
Iris nodded. "That's what I figured," she said. "Just thought it would be good to check. Come on, it's about time for lunch. We'll get rid of this and then I'll get something made."
Robert sighed. She had shown mastery over her body, a victory for herself to not be led into sin by her base desires. Yet she could not quite shake the feeling of...of disappointment, of unfulfilled need. The physical arousal was gone, but in its place it left her awash in hormonal sadness. Was this how...how women felt in times like this?
Why did she have to be a woman? Of course they were as much God's creation as men, but she was not supposed to be one! She was born a man, she had matured as one, she had served God as a spiritual leader, and now...now it was all taken away. She was sure this must be a test...but what kind of test? Did He intend to test her resolve, and see that she retained her spiritual manhood even when stripped of it physically? Or was it a test of her submission to His will? Should she then attempt to...to accept it? She couldn't conceive of God ever doing such a thing, but who was she to tell Him what he could not do?
Or...more terrifyingly...what if it wasn't a test? What if she was to...to remain as a...as this...no! No, the Lord would not have made her a man to begin with if He did not intend for her to be one, would he? ...would he?
She didn't even know anymore. This was the greatest test she had ever faced, even more than the trial of having to set fire in her own church...she didn't know that she could do this by herself. She needed guidance...she needed God's guidance first and foremost, but she also desired human counsel. She...she needed to go back and talk to Father Maxwell. But...she couldn't, not until...they decided she could go...
