It's All in the Game 1

Zane sat on her bed, in shock.  She looked down at her hands . . . small, girly hands, connected to thin girly arms, connected to . . . she squashed that line of thought quickly.  She got up and opened the tub that held the things that came with the new body . . . the dress and sword.  Ignoring the dress, she picked up the sword to examine it.

It was a beautiful work of art itself, yet completely functional as well.  The golden hilt was wrapped in cloth worn in several spots that exactly matched her hands.  Curious, she tested the sharpness with her thumb to find it would barely dent her skin.

"Great.  I get a magic sword and it won't cut butter." Zane grumped, disappointed.  She tossed it at one wall of her room, and it sank to the hilt, right through a poster of Samus in her blue Zero suit.  Gulping, she cautiously pulled it back out and looked at the neat little hole. "Or maybe my magic sword will cut everything except me."

Alan and Scott burst into the room, ready for action.

"Zee, everything okay in here?" Alan asked, his sword in hand.

"Um, yeah.  I was, um, trying out my new sword." Zane stammered, blushing furiously.

"Okay, but be more careful, okay?  An inch to the left, and Alan would have gotten a nasty cut." Scott sighed, demanifesting his armor.

"I'll put it away for now." Zane told them, putting it back in the tub.

"Dinner's almost done, so we'll call you when it's ready." Alan told her, sheathing his sword and going back to the kitchen.

A short wait later, and the table was set, the burgers, vegetable and salad ready to eat.

"Here you go, Zee.  I figured you could use a pick me up so I cooked your burger just the way you like it." Alan told her, gesturing at the meal with a flourish.

"Thanks, Alan." Zee smiled back, feeling touched.

"Let's dig in." Scott said, grabbing the first of his three burgers.

Zane grabbed her own burger and took a big bite . . . and froze.  She didn't know how, but Alan had seriously messed up the meat, as it was taking everything she had to keep from spitting it right back out.

"Something wrong?" Alan asked, worried.

Zane forced herself to swallow. "No." She said, determined not to let his gesture go to waste.  She took another bite and felt her stomach rebel.  Clutching her hands over her mouth, she rushed to the bathroom to empty her stomach into the toilet.

"What happened?" Alan asked, even more worried.

"Sorry." She apologized. "I think the meat must have gone bad or something."

"What?  I got that meat last Thursday!  I don't think I'll be shopping there again." Alan looked angry.

"They tasted fine to me." Scott said. "Maybe it's because Zane's an elf now?  Those two in our class were vegetarians.  Maybe they didn't have a choice?"

"I'm not an elf." Zane protested.

"Uh, Zee?  Look in the mirror." Scott told her. "The ears say otherwise."

"I know what I look like!" She snapped back. "I'm just not an elf.  I don't know why the distinction is important, but it is."

"Okay, okay!" Alan put up his hands. "Let's just calm down and think about this . . . logically."

Zane gave him a dirty look and raised her hand in the Vulcan greeting . . . and turned it into the one finger salute.

"Sorry." Alan grinned unrepentantly. "Let's see what you /can/ eat."

They returned to the kitchen and Zane found she could eat the vegetables and salad just fine, but even the smell of meat made her gag a little.  Scott snagged the rest of her burger and determined that it was indeed fine.  After they were done eating, Zane did the dishes.  With a look at the greasy pan, she shrugged and picked it up to wash as well . . . but instantly screamed in pain and dropped it.

"What's wrong?" Her two roommates asked, rushing over (again).

"The pan was hot." Zane said, tears in her eyes as she showed them the burn.

"Hurry, get some water on it." Alan told her, putting her hand under the faucet.

Scott grabbed an oven mitt to pick up the frying pan and hesitated.  He gingerly touched the pan with his bare hand, then grasped it firmly. "Pan's cold, guys."

"It burned me!" Zane said, pulling her hand out from under the water and stared in shock as the injury faded away before their eyes.

Scott and Alan looked at each other and nodded. "Cold Iron." They said simultaneously.

"Huh?" Zane asked.

"Remember we mentioned those two elv . .. er . . . pointy eared people in our class?  Iron burned them, even if it had been in the freezer.  Looks like that's something else you need to watch for." Alan explained.

"I hate this!" Zane yelled. "I can't eat meat, I get burned from metal, and I look like a /freak/ and on top of everything else, I'm a fucking girl now." Tears started pouring down her cheeks. "Look at me!  I'm even crying like a girl.  A pointy eared crybaby freak of a girl." Zane collapsed to the floor as she cried and cried.

The two guys looked at each other uncomfortably for a minute until Scott kneeled next to Zane and hugged her to his shoulder and rocked her, making soothing noises.  Zane clutched him and sobbed, while Alan shifted back and forth uneasily until he simply left the room.  A few minutes later, he reentered the room and sat at the table with Scott and Zane.

"Zee, I want you to know you're not alone in this.  We're going to stick with you no matter what.  We're here and we're not going away." Alan told her.

Zane grabbed a tissue and blew her nose violently. "Thanks." She said, sniffing.

"I can bet you don't want people to know about this." Alan waved his hand vaguely at her body and she nodded. "But you know that none of us has any clue about stuff like this and you're going to need some clothes until we see if you can get changed back.  So, I called my Dad and he's sending my sis over with some stuff.  Also, you have a week off at the store until you adjust or whatever.  Scott and I will cover your shifts."

"You told your dad?" Zane demanded, angry.

"I had to!" Alan protested. "What was I gonna say, that you had mysteriously vanished?  And we suddenly got a new roommate with the same taste in clothes, music and videogames, that talks the same and happens to know everything you know?"

"Well, when you put it like that . . ." Zane blew her nose again.

"Speaking of parents, how are you gonna break the news to them?" Scott asked.

"Oh, God." Zane gasped, turning white. "Let's not.  Ever."

"We'll go with you for support . .. " Scott offered.

"No, we don't need to worry about that." Alan said, tone indicating the topic was over. "Zane, we do need to consider that this is permanent, though."

"But . . ." Zane looked at him, scared.

"I mean it.  This kinda thing is usually permanent, and trying to fight it or change back usually ends up going very bad.  Like there was this PDP/Exemplar who tried to use a devise to up his Psi ratings.  It worked but it scrambled his BIT so he ended up looking like, of all things, a Protoss warrior." Alan told her, sighing

"Alan, if she is going to be stuck like this, don't her parents deserve to know?  And even if she can change back she should still visit them.  Didn't she spend both Christmas and Thanksgiving with your folks?" Scott demanded.

"No, it's fine." Alan glared at him.

"But . .. "

"Drop it.  Anyway, why don't you work on your commissions, Zane?  Just because you experienced a life shattering event doesn't mean you can keep your customers waiting." Alan said gently.

"Yeah." Zane smiled at him. "I think I could stand to lose a few hours on the drawing board.  Thanks, guys."

Zane stood up and walked back to her room, the two guys watched her go until they realized they were watching how she went.

"Is it just me, or is Zee getting sexier by the minute?" Alan asked.

"Maybe we're just noticing it more." Scott said doubtfully. "Anyway, what's the deal?  And you know what I mean."

"Okay, here's the backstory." Alan sighed. "I met Zane online 'bout five years ago, when I found some of his artwork he posted on a site.  And it was pretty good, even then."

"Yeah, Zane's got real talent." Scott nodded, leaning forward.

"Anyway, we got to talking about stuff and we find we have plenty of stuff in common, like games and stuff so we get to be friends pretty quick.  And one day I'm helping out at the store when a kid my age starts laughing at one of the displays and says 'Linkman42 will get a kick out of this'.  A couple minutes later and we realized who the other was.  He was overjoyed and hung out at the store anytime he could, and visited my place sometimes too.  He wouldn't let me over at his place though.  But, when school started up again, he simply dropped offline completely.  His site is shut down, emails bounce, the works.  I'm worried, of course, but there's nothing I can do.  I'm a hardware gadget, not a software jocky, and most of the other workshop guys won't give me the time of day because I'm not as 'hardcore' as they are."

"Yeah, I remember you were worrying about something back then." Scott said thoughtfully. "You could have told me about it."

"Eh, nothing you could have done either.  And you were dealing with that stalker goth chick."  Alan shrugged.

"Oh, right." Scott blushed. "Go on."

"So I decide I'll track him down once I'm back home, and I'm about to give up when I see him getting out of this high class car with some lady with an attitude problem.  I rush over to say hi, and he looks real happy, then scared.  The lady gets in my face about who I am and how do I know her son.  I tell her I'm his friend and she says some crap about him not having friends of my 'class' and drags him off.  I don't hear from him again until school starts and I get an e-mail out of the blue that explains everything.  He tells me that his folks are super rich, but they don't approve of his 'wasting his time' with video games, fantasy and his art.  When he had disappeared his folks had but their foot down, throwing out his games and burning his drawings.  All of them."

"Harsh." Scott said, face pale.

"Yeah.  Some of his old stuff only exists because I had downloaded them from his site." Alan said quietly. "He had pretty much given up and decided to just go along with it until he saw me again.  He said that woke him up and he wanted out.  He couldn't leave until he turned 18, but we made some plans.  He scrounged and hid what money he could, graduated from the high class boarding school his parents sent him to, and played the obedient son until the magic day when he could burn that suit of his and walk out.  He managed to make it to my folk's place and he got a job with us at the video store.  The happiest I ever saw him was when he enrolled in the arts program at college." Alan finished.

"Yow.  And here I thought it was just some parents of mutants that pulled that kinda crap on their kids." Scott winced.

"Kinda hits home that it doesn't matter what your genes say, people are people anywhere.  Good and bad." Alan nodded. "I'm getting a beer.  Want one?"

"Sure." Scott took a swig and stared at his beer. "He . . . she's gonna have to talk to them sooner or later though.  Who knows?  Maybe this'll patch things up."

"From what I heard, it'll be easier for Freya to not be a bitch." Alan sighed and drained his beer.

*

Zane grumbled as she worked to readjust her chair and drawing table again to get everything 'just right'.  Shorter arms and legs were such an inconvenience.  Once things were set up again, she put her current work up and considered it.  She had been commissioned to draw someone's D+D mage in the process of casting a fireball spell, but the longer she looked at it, the less she liked it.  Putting aside how top heavy she was (she shuddered, now that she had her own perspective) the placement of the arms and hands just seemed wrong.  Frowning, she moved to her computer and turned on the camera.  Looking at the monitor, she posed and gestured, getting closer and closer to what she felt was 'right' and felt energy move from those funny looking lines she saw everywhere . . .

All of a sudden she saw the pathways she was weaving fill with energy and take shape.  Startled, she 'dropped' it and the whole thing tangled up into something new, making over a dozen creatures pop into existence.  Zane shrieked and jumped up onto her chair as the ambulatory toadstools waddled around, grumbling in deep voices.