《Animated World: Drawn In》


 Part 1

    Animated World: Drawn In


    Part 1


    "Kenny! It''s after twelve! How can you stay in bed all day?!"


    I blinked my eyes open, from what I was sure was one of the best dreams I''d ever had, to the pouting visage of my younger sister, Candace.


    Her huge, green eyes gave a visible twitch.


    I muttered something into my pillow and tossed a hand in her direction. But she wouldn''t leave me alone. First, came the prodding with her hands, then the poking with her feet, and finally, the drops of water on my neck.


    "You promised to take me to the mall today after lunch!"


    I vaguely remembered such a promise from several nights ago and sat up rubbing my neck to get the water off. My sister stood before me, framed by the dark, pen lines which surrounded her body, arms folded, and awaited my answer.


    With a sigh, I brushed my hair back and nodded. That was all the affirmation she needed. I was promptly seized by her almond-pink arm and forcibly dragged out of bed and across the floor. Before I could look up, she''d tossed some of my clothes on my head. I lifted them up and glared at her.


    "Be ready in ten!" Then she scampered out of my room, a colorful blur.


    -----


    As I got dressed, I reflected, for the umpteenth time, that I used to tease my sister by calling her a cartoon character for all her antics. I never expected it would literally come true. But then no one expected what began in the world over two years ago.


    The first cases were on the other side of the world in strange places with names I could barely say. None of them occurred in the same town and none seemed connected to the other. But each affected, whether while they slept or over the course of a single day, changed from a normal human being to what looked like a living drawing.


    The art styles varied, especially at first. Some were in a nearly photo-real style with few physical changes. Others became like caricatures with odd-shaped heads and disproportionate bodies. Some resembled classical art styles from their culture. Others seemed to be in a new style altogether.


    Back then, the news talked about it all the time, screaming wild theories and even wilder preventative measures. For a short time, art schools were threatened and art museums questioned. But the changes continued, methodically, day by day with more and more people. The first cases in the US were the talk of everyone. Those changed sat somewhere between sideshow attractions, reality stars, and pariahs.


    It wasn''t until famous and "important" people started to change that the PSAs began. We had a week in classes which was less education and more the teacher throwing out hypotheticals. Of course, there was always the guy who wanted to talk about buxom cartoon girls. One of those guys even wound up as one with a particular version of the change.


    But panic is hard to keep up for a long time. We all got used to seeing the random person who looked like they escaped from an art project. At least until it was my sister''s turn.


    Her change started in the middle of the day as she was watching something on TV and noticed part of her hand was a different color from the rest. No amount of washing or scrubbing helped and paint thinner had long been discredited as a home remedy despite one particular news network still bringing it up.


    By evening, most of her had been converted. My sister was one of the lucky ones. She didn''t change all that much physically and she actually enjoyed her "color style". She also enjoyed a few weeks of popularity till the next conversion at her middle school.


    Of course, Candace''s conversion didn''t do anything to prepare me for when mom and dad were converted. My thoughts were interrupted by loud stomping near my door which told me that I was taking too long getting ready.


    I tapped on the wall and hurried along.


    Candace beat me downstairs and was already at her spot around the table. Mom and dad were both cooking. They couldn''t be more different than before. Fortunately, in a good way.


    Mom of before had a short cut of auburn hair which coiled over her ears, stood a head shorter than dad, and always had back problems. A life-long artist, she would sit and work, crouched from sunrise till late in the evening on some painstaking project in her home studio. Now, mom was shorter than Candace with long, aquamarine hair which glittered in the sunlight and overwhelmed her body. She''d tried cutting it several times but, as part of the change, it regrew at a hyperactive rate whenever cut. She wore a white top and black pants as she stirred a bit of egg and sniffed with her little mark of a nose, which barely showed up as a slope in profile.


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    Though mom became a "little cartoon girl", she still spoke with a feeling much larger than her small body. The first few weeks were tough and I know it hit her hard when several of her "normal" friends stopped coming by and we got the cold treatment from neighbors.


    For mom, it was a revival. She actually embraced her child-like appearance. Her aches and pains improved and she got used to the face in the mirror.


    After mom, it was only a month before it was dad''s turn. Like mom, he looked ages younger. The salt-and-pepper on his face was replaced by a smooth visage and bright blond hair which made Candace deem him a "heartthrob". Dad would glare and admonish her about that with his huge, brown eyes.


    I didn''t really ask how mom and dad dealt with it in private but I noticed that there was a lot more "parent time" with closed doors and that was the furthest I wanted to take that thought.


    Mom set down her brightly-colored, cel-shaded spatula. As soon as she stopped touching it, it reverted to a normal one. Such was the case with everything someone converted came in contact with. That was why my sister''s clothes looked like art even though I knew they were just ones she''d bought at the mall. It extended to people too, as I noticed with mixed regular/converted couples at school. Kisses got really weird as the influence would spread to the other. One of the long-standing jokes/topics at school was if there were ways to make sex better if the influence spread entirely to someone at climax.


    Some still refused to touch the converted and there were always meetings and shouts of "normal"-only classes from hysterical parents. Most classes were regular anyway because the conversion rate in our area was still only about five percent.


    "Well?! Do you want ham?" My sister asked me with a glower. I must''ve flaked out. I looked to mom''s dark U of a smile as she chuckled and I nodded. Dad and she shared a look.


    Tired of Candace being annoyed with me, I tried to turn it around on her, asking, "So why do you even need to go to the mall? You got clothes last month."


    And then began the hyper-huffiness. Through it all, I got two inklings. First, that there was a Sunday sale somewhere. Second, that one of her friends was sure to be there and they were just converted and needed to go shopping and how dare I be so insensitive about someone at such a time when they needed friendship and support the most and besides I made a promise to do this and she thought I had more honor than to welch like this and so forth.


    Mom tossed me a kind look and I rose to help serve lunch. At least that way sis couldn''t complain for a bit. For mom and dad, they had a proper lunch. For us, late breakfast. They knew us so well.


    Dad asked me the usual questions between bites of his meal. When would we be home? I turned to Candace for that. She tried to ramble, mentioning the contingencies of her friend''s situation. He narrowed his eyes and watched her. One big problem with a drawn face was it was so much easier to read the emotional lines. After a bit of prodding, Candace admitted that there was also a cute boy who just got a job at one of the clothing stores. An older boy. Dad''s face was also easy to read. Then he turned to me and made sure I would watch over Candace.


    I gave a half-salute with a serious face. Mom smiled but dad just nodded. Sure, he was a copy-editor now but he''d been in the army for years and it showed, despite all the changes to his appearance.


    Candace bit into her ham and held it till it turned bubble-gum pink. I knew she did it because it grossed me out.


    When we were done, there was no time to linger. I thought about refilling my cup a moment before I was wrenched from the table by my sister''s claw-like grip.

 Part 2

    Drawn In


    Part 2


    I didn''t have a car, yet. But I had plans. Summer plans which were closer to vague notions and hopes that I might find something. The family car was good enough that I felt confident when I actually managed to get some time to drive it.


    Crossing her legs, Candace folded her arms and firmly booted the glove compartment till I''d pulled out of the driveway. She fiddled with her purse and hip pack all the way. I unwillingly learned from Candace, over one of her prolonged monologues, that makeup took a while to catch up with converted people. Normal tones were like applying a spray can. Since colors could vary so much, the business of custom makeup took off. I honestly couldn''t tell the difference from her regular, simple tone with or without it but if it made her feel better, I wasn''t about to invite an argument.


    The drive was long enough that I started to tap my foot too. At one of the main intersections, Candace asked me what I''d asked myself so many times before, "Do you think it''ll hit you too?"


    She didn''t need to explain further. Going from odds and if there was fairness in the world then I''d probably be one of the last ones "hit". I didn''t buy those people who said hanging around the converted changed you faster.


    And it was proven by a noted scientist who put himself in direct contact with the converted every day. As soon as he let go. he reverted and, despite endless hours and days of direct exposure, he was still the same. Of course, then some people took this to mean that touching a converted was like an inoculation.


    After finding a good spot on the packed first level of the mall parking garage, Candace hurried into one of the big department stores. I had to hustle to keep up and she groaned that I wasn''t faster.


    Most stores had display areas dedicated to more colorful products and clothing. Some still had rules that converted people were not allowed to actually handle certain products long enough for their influence to spread. Most of it was going away but one remnant was that certain clothes were advertised brighter so converted people could see what they might look like if worn, which was still ridiculous.


    Just looking around the store, I didn''t see anyone else like my sister. But she rarely turned heads anymore. Usually, just young children would stare and try to grab at her clothes before their parents yanked them away with horrified grimaces.


    The interior of the mall itself wasn''t anything special, which I heard from Candace all the time. Of course, there was a much nicer, outdoor mall about thirty miles away in the next large city south of us. I liked our mall though. It had used furniture places and small arcades, watch repair shops and big shoe surplus stores.


    I was starting to get winded but I kept pace with Candace till she met up with her friend at the second intersection. They gave each other a big hug. She introduced herself to me as Allison. She was taller than Candace and looked a little more mature but that could''ve been due to her conversion. She had thicker lines around her body than my sister, though not as thick as mom''s and her skin tone was closer to a smooth bisque which shaded nicely with the noonday light through the atrium above


    She had on a flowing, sea-pattern dress with crests and waves like something out of a painting. Her hair was past her shoulder and black aside from a reddish tint at the ends. Her eyes were "anime" big (although the word ''anime'' had acquired dozens of interpretations, I still went with my pre-conversion era sense of it) with a dusty-red tone. I winced for her when remembering old stories on the news of converted kids who were beaten when they woke up with bright-red "devil eyes".


    They chatted a bit as I gazed around the mall. The occasional person glanced towards Allison and Candace but that was about it. I was looking for other converts. Candace poked me on the shoulder and narrowed an eye at me.


    I knew the plan. I could roam so long as I kept my cell phone on at all times and didn''t tell our parents that I wasn''t supervising every moment. I was fine with not spending the whole afternoon bored and camped out at every teen clothing store that caught Candace''s interest. Plus, I figured she wanted time to flirt with the "new boy" she mentioned.


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    For me, I was headed for one of the "odd gifts" stores nearby. They had massaging chairs, which would be great for the crick I still had in my neck from sleeping awkwardly overnight. From there, I glanced over the sports store out of sheer, random curiosity. While there, I noticed one of the clerks was animated. She had on a soccer jersey which complimented her style, which was somewhere between Candace''s and Allison''s. She had smaller eyes but simple shades of soft yellow hair in a ponytail and Allison''s body tone. She was also pretty cute.


    I hung out a while and tried to think of reasons to ask her for help in getting something. But there really wasn''t anything I wanted. But she was still really cute and might want to hang out. Candace treated it like I''d become a monk lately but I really did want a girlfriend. Her idea of trying to get one for me involved me hanging around the stores she liked while she muttered suggestive things and giggled.


    Eventually, the clerk vanished in the backroom before I could come up with something interesting to say or do. The head clerk eyed me a little like I was taking up valuable floor space. I moved on.


    The gadget stores just made me look longingly, so I wound up at the newsstand/bookstore. They served great orange-flavored drinks next door. I bought one.


    Sipping softly, I sifted through some magazines and considered the music store or the trendy graphic t-shirt shop. I would definitely be able to burn some time at the former listening to samples, which I could probably get in full for free online. However, it was on the far side of the mall. Trendy Ts was close but it was quite a bit smaller and I never wound up buying anything there. But there tended to be a lot of girls willing to strike up a conversation about anything. One I remembered wore special makeup to make herself look more like a converted. Worth checking out. Maybe they even had some fun new shirts.


    The store was busy like usual. The highlight was a converted girl, about my age, wearing black. Her eyes were traced like an Egyptian fresco and she had an ankh around her neck. Her style was more indie comic book with odd proportions which exaggerated but complimented her legs and hips. She had lips I knew were intentionally black-traced and a textured, curved helmet of brown hair. She was hot and she looked to be alone, sifting through some purse decorations.


    I figured I might be able to position myself nearby and mention something cool. There were chokers. I diverted over to the shirts. I noticed they had a few "convert" pride ones. Terms ranged from "colorfuls" to "animated" to "anime" to "toon/ed". I often just said, "converted".


    Looking at some really colorful ones, I noticed one in particular and raised an eyebrow. It was related to a well-known animated show with an animal cast. The shirt was admittedly a bit cooler looking than most.


    There had been some rare converts who wound up similar to that show''s characters with four legs and a bright color scheme. They''d been in a study by scientists curious if the conversion was ever unwilling. Me, I didn''t want to be an animated puppy or pony or dragon or whatever.


    Most of them tended to be form-shifters though, so at least they weren''t stuck looking like strange animals for the rest of their lives with no way to care for themselves. Putting one of the sample shirts back, I rubbed at my wrist. Behind me, I heard a breathy voice ask, "Hey, can you get that for me?"


    Turning around, I was face to face with the animated goth girl. She pointed with a black-pen-traced finger at something right above me. I reached up and took down a key chain in a box with undead Hello Kitty imagery. I smiled quickly and passed it over. She gave a little smile back and looked down. Then she frowned.


    She cleared her throat and pointed to my wrist. I looked at it. It seemed fine. Except for a little patch on the back which looked painted in a pale, simple color. My heart thundered in my ears. She looked up at me, as though about to say something, but pressed her lips together and turned away.

 Part 3

    Drawn In


    Part 3


    The shivering came.


    There had to be a different explanation. I stepped towards the front of the store and began furiously rubbing at the spot. But I knew there was no way I could''ve accidentally gotten some paint on there. It almost looked like someone had pasted a small patch of fleshy, glove material on me. For now, it was only the back of my hand but I had the nagging apprehension it would soon spread.


    I made my way out of the store and considered washing in the restroom. I knew it wouldn''t do anything. I would''ve felt something if it were a stain or an allergic reaction. Actually, I didn''t feel the light hairs I usually had on the back of my hand. I tried to tickle for them and I couldn''t find anything inside the affected area.


    Not a reason to panic. Dad definitely lost a lot of body hair. My concern was becoming like that pervy former-guy in class. I wasn''t anything like them though. Not that some random phenomena would care. Leaving my hand under the faucet only made it slightly-redder. Examining it with a close eye, I was sure it had gotten bigger. I dialed Candace''s number. It took her a moment to pick up.


    "Not a good time, bro¡­"


    I whispered, "My hand is changing color."


    She was quiet for a moment before saying something I couldn''t hear, then she growled into the phone, "You gotta be joking. It''s not funny."


    I asked her where she was and offered to present my hand. Not that I wanted to show evidence that I was being converted. And I especially didn''t want to make the next phone call to mom and dad.


    I guessed Candace went to the store with that particular boy and she didn''t want me to know what she was doing. I didn''t want to think about that either but she sighed and begrudgingly told me where to meet up.


    When I arrived, I noticed that the clothing store they were at only had female clerks.  Allison sat on a bench with her head down. Bad call on my part. I swallowed my thought and walked over. Candace instructed me to hold my hand up to the light. She eyeballed it and then went through a series of odd and very colorful expressions. First, the narrow-eyed, accented skeptical animation. Then, her eyes widened to their fullest and her mouth line spread. Then, came the overly-obvious smirk.


    She looked at me and announced, "That''s conversion." It struck hard, like an arrow in the chest, to hear someone else say it aloud.


    Then she added what I hoped she wouldn''t, "That hand looks smaller¡­and girlier than your other hand."


    Dabbing at her eyes, Allison turned to look at me. It wasn''t long before she was inspecting too, with her hands prodding me. It gave me a preview of coming attractions. Well, not really. The parts outside the converted section, the parts under her influence, looked like my normal hand, only animated. The spreading patch, however, as Candace reiterated, looked¡­.less like my normal hand.


    Leaning close, Candace whispered, "It''s girlier than dad''s to be sure. Kenny¡­you might be gender-converting too." I couldn''t hide a bright, overwhelming blush. Allison held her hand to her lightly-colored cheek and whispered to Candace.


    I answered swiftly, "You don''t know that." I tried not to say it very loud but it felt like a scream. I kept glancing at the spot. I was sure it was bigger now and not because of Allison, that influence was gone.


    Candace looked at me and asked, "So you''re saying that''s a¡­boy''s hand?" She held hers up for comparison. Enough of the shape had changed that I could tell immediately that the form was pretty close to hers. But then girls can have manly hands and boys can have small, soft hands!


    Still, every rationalization felt futile. I wobbled and muttered, "I guess I should call mom and dad." This was one thing even Candace couldn''t argue about. I apologized to Allison but she sniffled and bowed her head, saying, "It''s okay. I know how stressful this can be. And with¡­something else maybe on top of it¡­you do what you need to do."


    I expected Candace to reiterate a gibe she''d tossed me once, back when there was a rash of gender-conversions and she announced, "I''ll help you buy your first bra, big sis."


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    No such comments this time. I let her and Allison get back to shopping around as I made my call.


    I didn''t want the other end to pick up. It was dad. I was tempted to ask for mom but I just blurted out, "Dad, I''m converting." Same quiet as with Candace, this one to fill a thousand heartbeats. More whispers I couldn''t hear on the other end before he answered, "Do you need us to pick you up?"


    I could feel behind his words that he was also asking if I could drive, if I was still human, if I looked anything like I did just a short time ago. I told him, "It''s just on my hand right now but it''s¡­changing quite a bit." That was too vague.


    Looking at it again, the conversion was easily winning the war against the rest of the flesh on the back of my hand. It looked like one of those invading army pictures from conflicts long past, spreading constantly.


    I fielded two more careful questions before I finally admitted, "Dad¡­Candace said it looks like a¡­girly hand."


    Dad sighed into the phone and I thought I heard something from mom too in the background after dad whispered a bit. He told me, "Alright. Now it''s up to you. If you want, come home as soon as you like, but only if you feel well enough to drive. I can find someone to pick up your sister and her friend, unless they want to head back with you."


    So there sat the central problem. Did I want to go home and wait this out or did I want to bide my time while my sister pondered if I was about to sprout cartoon breasts in front of her and Allison? I didn''t like either of those options. I just wanted to relax and enjoy a regular Sunday. I took a few deep breaths and told dad, "I''ll call back in a bit."


    Clutching my phone, I walked around a ring of clothes and glanced down at my hand. It was to my fingers. The first of the lines were showing up. Lines more like Candace''s than mom''s. No way of denying what it was anymore. I was converting. Thinking furiously, I tried to estimate how long I had. Most people didn''t notice a conversion until they were at least past the hand. Denial, typically. I had to have started soon after we arrived at the mall or just before.


    I knew it was useless to try to think of something I may have done. No scientific causation between actions and conversion. Still, the fear in me wanted to make sense of it. Blame something, try to rationalize why it was happening now and not before or years from now. Especially because my hand looked so soft and small. And I couldn''t even cover it up for long. If I put a glove on my hand then it would just eventually animate and become a more obvious sign of what was happening to me.


    I paced and glanced back towards Candace and Allison. They were talking. I was sure Allison had been crying. I should''ve felt like crying too. My life as I knew it was over. At the very least, I would be gawked at by random strangers, a morbid curiosity. At the very worst, I didn''t want to contemplate what might happen.


    I had a shiver and a sick feeling, so I took a breath. Darn it. The nothing-really-happening was the worst. Breaking down in tears would at least be something but I''d never been a crier, not even when I was a little kid and I inevitably hurt myself all the time. Screaming was possible but the attention would make it worse, along with being tossed out of the store. All the while, the smoldering, painless burn of my hand continued.


    But the point remained, I had to at least choose to do something. Hurry home and crawl into bed while my mom rubbed the covers and told me it would be alright? I felt a backlash of pride.


    Wander around and maybe have my clothes shift before falling off as I exposed...everything to the entire mall? Not a good idea.


    All that remained for me was to stick around with my sister and her friend and see how the change progressed. Saying it myself reiterated that it was a stupid idea but going home and sulking sure wouldn''t help.


    A quick call back home was met by a long silence as dad inquired, "You want to stay there with your sister? Will you be alright?"


    "I''ll do my best and call back if there are any new problems."


    When I relayed my decision to Candace, she gave me a long, skeptical look. I stuck out my tongue at her. She shrugged and said, "Alright¡­"

 Part 4

    Drawn In


    Part 4


    I found a place to sit towards the back of the store. It wasn''t a bad store. It just wasn''t my style with all the bright colors, skirts, tank tops, and bracelets everywhere. Candace and Allison took turns trying things on. I had no opinion about my sister in a belted, blue skirt. Although I could imagine dad glowering and arguing how short it was. Allison tried on longer things with swirling patterns. She sat beside me when it was Candace''s turn and asked, "You sure this is okay? I don''t want to be a bother."


    I assured her it was fine. I almost let out a comment about it being a preview of what I''d be wearing eventually anyway. But I held back that thought. Hold it back a little longer.


    She held her traced hands in her lap and brushed back her layered hair. Without prompting, she said, "I was¡­in a really bad place when it happened. In my head, I mean. I felt like it was the end. That nothing mattered anymore."


    I gave her a sympathetic look as she sighed to herself and continued, "But¡­everyone has been wonderful. Family will be family but that''s life. It goes on."


    I asked, leaning towards her, "Your family hasn''t been supportive?"


    She gave a quick smile to herself. "Supportive? At least they haven''t tossed me out and regurgitated countless things from TV. But if I told them I was pregnant, it would''ve been better." Without thinking on it too much, I put a hand on her shoulder (got a bit of her influence) and said, "You have support. My sister thinks of you like a sibling and my family knows what it''s like. I know my dad would let you stay with my sis if you need to get away."


    Looking into her glossy, dusty-red eyes, I gave her a quick hug. She immediately wrapped her arms around me and clung tightly. No tears but her eyes blinked a lot as she said, "Candace is right. You''re a cool¡­brother." Her eyes flicked down at the last word.


    Smiling for her as she released me, I checked my hand. Whatever contact influence vanished to show a hairless, girlishly-sized arm with a color tone like Allison''s "anime" one. I held my arms together to compare. My own influence wasn''t enough yet to really affect the other hand. An anime girl''s arm beside a normal guy''s arm. A hand the same in all but drawing style to Allison''s right beside me.


    Candace came out and showed off a necklace while wearing sunglasses. Allison clapped but without enthusiasm. Giving a sour expression, Candace plopped down next to the two of us and admitted, "This is a sucky cheer-up attempt. Now I''ve got my friend and my brother down in the dumps."


    Allison waved her hands with a colorful blur and assured Candace she was fine. I displayed my hand for Candace, who eyed it and offered, "At least you''re not avant-garde..."


    It was the wholesale term for everyone who had the worst sort of artistic conversions, the kind where they were lucky if they had a symmetrical body and a face at the end. Those typically only happened at the beginning of all this but they still happened from time to time. She was right though. It could be much worse. But that still wasn''t much of a pick-me-up. Allison clenched her white bands of teeth in her slight jaw and showed a smile, with the offer, "Maybe we could try another store? My parents would totally freak if I came home wearing some of this stuff anyway."


    Candace kicked at the floor but nodded, putting forth a few examples. Most of them were places with a men''s section. I appreciated that. I knew Candace could''ve spent all her time in this particular store, just trying things on. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Then, her eyes widened and she noted one in particular, a new store. I was fine with it and Allison was curious to see it. It was a short walk. First, Candace told me, she wanted to try on something else. As she walked over to the changing room, I noticed she took out her phone and was calling. Suspicious but I''d ask her later.


    The new store Candace decided on was the sort I''d never spent much time in. It was winding and smelled of lilac with tons of colors. The so-called "gender-neutral" department was well¡­clearly intended for the swoop-haired movie billboard sort of men all over their advertising. I stared at one a moment before finding a place to sit. As with every day before in my life, the ad image did nothing for me. That was comforting, even though gender-conversion didn''t always go together with orientation-conversion (although they tended to go together more often than not). Actually, it got worse if I thought about it, so I stopped there.


    After stretching out on the seat, I rechecked myself. A smidge past the elbow. If only our mall had an Animated Lifestyle store. But those only showed up at the big malls and in richer neighborhoods, not that conversion cherry-picked those with more money. It especially irked me that they had people to talk to without an appointment if you were going through a conversion. And they had all sorts of informational materials. We''d gone to a few when mom would do art showings and dad was negotiating some publishing contract. Candace loved them.


    But none here. I leaned my head back until Candace and Allison found where I was camped out. I fussed with some shirts within reach with a half-smile. They went on.


    I took out my phone. It had an old, free copy of Tetris but it only gave me a one minute demo. I played a few times with my ''boy'' hand and then with the new one. There was a difference but it seemed surprisingly subtle for the difference between my arms. That was something that had been studied too. In the majority of conversion cases, the mind-body connection wasn''t strained.


    Sure, my sister looked into the mirror a lot for a few weeks and felt her face but she didn¡¯t have depression or severe anxiety. Mom actually felt good about her reflection and became, as we accused her, a little narcissistic with the mirror. Dad did get moody but mom definitely helped him through it. However, none of them changed their sex.


    Among those who no longer felt like their face matched their self-image, it was found they had similar issues before but that lessened afterward. Conversion helped psychological issues. That was a bit of a bombshell study at the time when almost all the talk was how to stop and undo what was happening.


    So, what did that say about me? How was the change helping me by, at the very least, giving me a girly arm? I let out a long breath. I knew myself. I honestly did not want to be a girl. Not in the least. I was fine with being myself, Kenny Brown. So why did I feel such nervousness?


    I clenched my lips and pondered. What if I didn''t even know that I wanted to be a girl, somewhere deep down in my subconscious or something? I had no idea what to think about that. Watching the art creep along my arm was more comprehensible than figuring that everything I thought I knew about myself was wrong.


    I covered my face and took a breath. I tried to focus on what I could tell for sure. I was afraid of this. Big surprise. Who wouldn''t be afraid of a complete transformation? And then my friends at school and school itself. Becoming converted was big, shocking news when it was first going around. Like having an exchange student from some other planet. Some people would stare bitterly and others would smile. But the attention, especially after it got a bit of a ''hipness'' boost from celebrities, was constant. As it happened to more and more people and you saw groups of animated people hanging out together in clubs and families in converted support groups, it just became a part of life.


    But gender conversions, those were still news. The pervy guys got outed as hiding their real feelings. The flamboyantly obvious ones were met with knowing nods. Everyone converted, for better or for worse, had the deepest parts of themselves exposed for all the world to see. For Candace, that wasn''t a big deal. She just became more herself. Obvious.


    For mom, she wanted to feel younger, feel different, and more colorful. She often admitted to crazy experiments with her hair during her art school years. Dad admitted he didn''t like being seen as such a macho guy.


    And those who didn''t like it, maybe like one article I read once suggested, perhaps they just hadn''t come to terms with the kind of people they really were.


    Either way, I would know soon enough.

 Part 5

    Drawn In


    Part 5


    My eyes trembled but no tears again.


    "May I help you? You okay?"


    I glanced up at a calm voice. A converted clerk smiled with massive brown eyes in a clear "anime"-inspired style. Nearly a third of her head was eyeball. Not that large eyes were a surprise anymore and hers, in particular, were a lovely, burnt brownish color. My skill with colors and their names had always been good with mom around but you get curious when the whole rainbow is spread out in people around you. Looking closer, there was a reddish touch too, more subtle than Allison''s. Maybe burnt crimson. A lovely color.


    Her hair was the color of glossy, metallic copper blended with a sharp, pink tint. It was literally like her wavy hair was made of pink metal. The locks were thick, falling past her back in a form like the noodly hair of my sister''s old Raggedy Ann doll. A pink carnation, which had been influenced into a cotton candy puff, sat clipped to the side of her head.


    She wore a white polo top with a collar that looked like a band of four-leaf clovers. A matching green, button stripe traced down to her forest-green skirt. My eyes flicked to her chest for a moment as I surveyed her clothes. I looked away quickly before returning to her burnt crimson eyes. She was easily one of the bustier converted girls I''d ever seen. Her clothes definitely flattered that aspect and her attractive, broad hips.


    Her pale-gray line of a mouth flicked open and showed a cat-like smirk. Then she noticed my arm. She gave an obvious, dour expression and clenched her narrow, lightly-lined hands in front of her, and said, "Oh my. Is there anything I can do to help?"


    Her grimace matched mine and I told her what I could about my situation. Then, I added, as a quick, self-separated mention, "And¡­all worried it might be a sex-altering¡­thing too."


    Her eyes actually managed to widen more. She crouched beside me and looked at my arm. The conversion was nearer to my shoulder than my elbow. I presented both arms to her and remarked, "I''m not thinking of buying two different gloves." My best attempt at a joke. She gave it more of a smile than it deserved.


    She looked over my hands and nodded as she saw a clear difference, especially when they were side by side. With a sigh, she settled next to me on the bench and asked, "How are you doing?"


    I gave a shrug and told her, "Quiet panic and total confusion¡­thereabouts."


    Another quick smile. She bowed her head and said softly, "I¡­can sympathize. And I don''t just mean¡­how you''d expect." She fumbled with her mouth line a bit and whispered beside me, "But¡­gender¡­sex things too."


    My eyes widened and she gave a nervous blush shading under her eyes like a dusty scribble. A ''sweatdrop moment'', adopted from "anime" parlance. She brushed her knees.


    Then, I heard Candace say, "Hey, Parker¡­oh shi¡­uh¡­" Her head popped up, smiled at the female clerk next to me, and then darted down when she saw me.


    I gave my sister a little glare and Parker glanced around with a bitter grimace like she''d just missed a joke. After a moment of hiding, Candace reemerged with a sweatdrop look of her own and said, "Uh¡­hey Parker. This is my brother. Who I mentioned when I called¡­" She trailed off towards the end.


    It made sense now. Candace had insisted on this store and made that suspicious call. She confirmed my theory by saying she knew that Parker worked here and was just calling to see if she was in today. Parker still looked confused but did so with a smile.


    Candace darted in, apologized, and then finished by saying, "Now¡­IGNORE ME!" before rushing off.


    That over with, Parker stammered before she said, "Uh¡­yeah. So, I understand. I guess. I feel like everyone''s experience is different and it can be really rough but if you want to talk about it¡­I''ll offer what I can."


    I nodded slowly and glanced out to see if my sister was still hiding somewhere. That much seemed clear. I asked her, "Well, I guess all the obvious questions. Starting with how long since your conversion."


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    She raised an eyebrow and repeated "conversion" to me before noting, "That term always weirded me out, like it meant joining an anime change for world domination religious cult or something. For me, I like the term ''getting animated''. But that''s just me. So far as how long ago¡­uh¡­well it''s been about¡­I need to add. Roughly nine months." All throughout her answer, she fussed a bit, moving her hands and touching her cheek contemplatively. She even accented her term with quick air quotes.


    I encouraged her to say more. She brushed at her rusty-metallic hair and dabbed under an eye. "It began on a Tuesday. Same day of the week the very first people originally got animated in the East. I first noticed it when I woke up. It was all over my left hand. I didn''t freak out. I knew it happened to some people. But, soon I realized my hand looked like an anime girl''s hand. Then, I freaked out." She presented her left hand by example and gave a chuckle.


    All told, it took her six hours from first noticing to all the details finished. She told me, "The waiting was the hardest part. But¡­that probably doesn''t help you. I buried myself in bed for a few hours when it got to my chest. I called in ''getting animated and changing sex'' to work. Quick call, I slammed down the phone in embarrassment as soon as I said it. I have really supportive, crazy-hippie parents who offered me...various things to take my mind off it. But animating with a sex change was kinda¡­ enough altered state for one day."


    She really said a lot with her facial animation and little hand gestures. It was clear she didn''t talk about this all that much. Brushing quivering noodles of hair back, she took a breath and said, "So, I looked at myself at the end of that day and¡­first of all, it was a relief to be done. Then I thought about those that shift form after their change but that didn''t happen to me. Then I thought, ''holy shit¡­those are huge''¡­granted my mom is technically larger but¡­" She pursed her lips again and the blush returned before she confessed, "That''s probably a weird thing to mention¡­"


    I told her it was fine and encouraged her to be sincere. She took that to heart and immediately continued, "I really liked looking at my boobs. My girls. I got definite enjoyment out of mirrors, positioning, and clothes. However, seeing them every day can get old pretty quick. It''s not just looks though." She gulped a squiggly face at that and her eyes flashed a little wider despite my assurance.


    We both decided it was probably best that we move to a more discrete area to chat.


    Once in a break room of the store with a lockable door, she let loose.


    "The whole physical experience is indescribable. I also feel there''s a mental aspect to it too. There''s so much. It''s like taking on an entirely different life, a whole new color palette of experiences. There are sucky things, especially from time to time. But I wouldn''t be who I am right now if this didn''t happen and I definitely wouldn''t take it back. I don''t even mind how long my hair tends to get."


    I questioned her further. Gender issues? Did she want to be a girl as a boy? Did her feelings change much?


    She took some time with these. "As I said, my parents are very open-minded. Very. Especially on gender roles but I was a normal guy, just under six feet, a little skinny. I sometimes messed around with clothes and colors but just because my parents were cool with it and I wanted to try it but I didn''t really get any sense of my body fighting with who I felt I was. I was fine with my body then and I''m just fine with being a girl too, I guess." She gave a slow shrug.


    I nodded and she continued, "I guess that probably doesn''t help a lot either. Sorry. I think of the change as ''getting animated'' because I feel like it stirs a part of ourselves to come out. It may be weird. It may contradict how we seem. It may be embarrassing. But it doesn''t put something which isn''t already there. I don''t know why I became an anime girl. I don''t know why I''m not someone who tries to look as manly as I can manage. But I''m okay. Happy even. I still prefer girls though."

 Part 6

    Drawn In


    Part 6


    I raised my eyebrows but thanked her for what she could offer me. I asked her a few ancillary questions and found out she was about a year ahead of me in high school. Candace apparently met her through an online community for the converted to share stories and self-help. She noted, "There are actually a few like me on there and they''re really awesome." She gave me the site (along with her number if I needed to talk more after things settled down) and we went back to the main part of the store.


    I lingered by her and glanced over some racks of decidedly-feminine clothes. I tried to imagine myself deciding to wear stuff like that with a body similar to Parker''s. I glanced back towards her. An older, normal lady with a lined grimace looked at her. She had a gray coat draped over her arms. Parker gave a quick smile and asked her the same thing she''d asked me at first.


    The lady looked Parker over and asked, "Can you find someone else to help me?"


    Parker lowered her hands and smiled politely. "I can easily help you with anything you need."


    "I''d prefer if it wasn''t you."


    One of those. Parker looked back at her calmly and announced, "If that''s what you wish. I can direct you to my manager." I had an inkling what was about to happen.


    I kept a covert position nearby, curious. The manager was a majestic-looking converted lady and clad in an aqua version of Parker''s outfit. Her hair was like amber fire with ebbs and flows of color, though shorter than Parker''s. She brushed it back like stoking embers into flame. Her eyes were piercing lavender, which seemed to set a glow across the rest of her face.


    She came over, folded her hands in front of her, and asked the customer, "May I help you?"


    The lady flashed her teeth before she clenched down on them.


    "I want a normal person."


    She spoke the words loudly enough for me to hear clearly. The manager watched the customer and recited store policy, linking it with converted rights as upheld by Congress. Animated people are still the same as everyone else, no matter their colors.


    The lady waved her hand and scoffed with threats of writing all sorts of letters to the store''s corporate offices. The manager sent her off with a smile. Once she''d stormed off, the manager rolled her eyes hard and sighed before saying a little something to Parker. I felt a finger poke me in the back of my shoulder.


    "We should be square now."


    Candace, obviously. I wasn''t sure how my snooping on a customer making a scene and her snooping on me and Parker compared but I let it slide. She asked all the obvious questions but I glared and told her that was between me and Parker. Then she reached to examine my arm. I''d almost managed to forget about it. It had passed the shoulder but stopped its field of influence at the top of my shoulder.


    I had a moment of hope before Candace pointed out my other arm looked different. She was right. It wasn''t as overt as the changed arm but it was there. Simpler colors. A smaller form. Hairless. A different change method from anyone else in my family.


    While the ''spreading consumption'' was the typical means of conversion, there were different varieties seen in studies. The most common alternate still began at the hand but then flowed from that point to the rest of the body, like diffusing a dye in a liquid. Bit by bit less the person you were. Most considered it preferable to the usual way which left a mishmash of half-animated bodies for a few hours. Mine seemed a bit of both so far, concentrating in my arms. Would it pick other parts of my body next?


    I considered phoning home. Unusual conversions typically called for the advice of a doctor, mostly due to the possibility someone might wind up with their head in a different place. Not that doctors had any way to actually do anything about it. So far, all my parts were still coming out in the right places. Just more girly than I was hoping for.


    I watched my arm. It would probably go faster but still be like watching a slow, constant drip from a faucet fill up a cup. Allison wandered over with a confused look and some clothes in her arms.


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    Candace brought her over to look at me. They both determined what I already knew. It was just my other arm changing. With a sigh, Candace remarked, "Well, that makes things more challenging. Okay. We''ll have to work bit by bit. You''re gonna try on gloves so we can find out your size."


    I would''ve protested but Candace had that decisive look. And I was a bit curious about what my size was now. It didn''t get too cold around here (especially this time of year) but I usually wore a men''s large when we went up to the mountains on skiing trips.


    I got dragged over to women''s gloves. Candace sifted through them till she found a hot pink pair and dangled them in front of me. All I needed to say was, "No."


    She flashed out a curl of her bubble-gum-pink tongue and went back to looking. Standing beside me a bit, Allison asked how it went with Parker. I noticed Candace brushed back her hair to reveal her shaded ear towards me. I repeated what I told Candace about what help Parker could provide but I reflected, "There''s really no way to prepare for something like this when it''s happening. I just feel like I''m burning time till it''s done so I can deal with it all together. Whatever happens to me."


    Candace gave a deep frown I could just catch from the side. I added, "However, I was really glad I had the chance to talk to her and I''d like to keep in contact with her." I watched Candace''s expression twist up into an obvious smirk. It was easy to draw the conclusion Candace was aware of many things about Parker. Somehow.


    I dipped into the gloves to shift the discussion. I came out with a soft, purple pair which was too fuzzy for me but should probably give me an idea of what size would fit best. I slipped one on. Too loose on the converted hand. Too snug on the still converting hand.


    Candace passed me some quite long, peach-toned fingerless gloves. There was a bit of lace trim and suggestively-girly print. I sighed and slipped one on. I conceded they were a great fit on the converted hand but groaned at the size tag on the side. A woman''s extra small. Foreboding. Candace smirked but quickly failed to hide her smirk with a cough and a serious look.


    I didn''t really want to try on anything after that, despite several mittens and even a few leather glovelettes Candace heaved in my direction. Allison directed her attention by taking a sudden interest in the gloves. I could see Parker''s head on the other side of the store.


    I stared down at my hands then tucked them behind my head so I didn''t have to look at them for a bit. I traced an eye over the gloves. Some of them weren''t that bad. I actually liked one in particular with a blue tartan pattern. But I just looked.


    I''d always been the cautious one. I remembered the old pool at the park down the block. I started lessons at an early age because mom read something about water being soothing to children. Not for me. I clung to the rim. So what if everyone else teased me? The wall was good. I also didn''t mind the low end, where you could duck down and run slowly in the water. That water was fine. That water wasn''t evil. It was when there was too much and I couldn''t touch bottom that I ran from it.


    Then, there was Candace. Her first swim day was soon after every instructor had stopped bothering with me and I''d rejected even water wings. She vaulted her little body into the water, hair spinning. I thought for a moment she''d crack her head open like mom had always warned me. But she danced in the water. She dove and rose and blasted plumes all over everyone.


    Of course, she quickly got bored with lessons and soon took to messing with the instructors by bobbing like a corpse. I resisted the chuckles and looks as everyone pointed out my sister and compared us. She was Candace and I was me.


    Her nature especially came across in her conversion. She started reading all the conversion rights legal stuff I''d gathered out of curiosity. She attended the nearest animated pride celebration, which was something between a fair and a parade where converted people and their families came and showed themselves off. At the time, they even broadcasted some of the big ones on the news. She also knew how she was going to become an actress in one of those up-and-coming "live-acted" animated programs on TV.


    But that''s my sister.

 Part 7

    Drawn In


    Part 7


    I gently leaned on a row of dresses. It occurred to me that I could tell my friends, but the prospect felt even more uncomfortable than mentioning it to my family had. I had no clue what would happen now. It was doubtful I''d become the excitable, colored blur my sister was. I also couldn''t quite imagine myself as Parker. She was nice though. Then there was Allison. I could be like her. The thought put a shiver down my back, especially when I realized my hands were actually smaller than hers (since she''d also tried the extra-small and it was too snug).


    I''d be the little sister. I paused on that thought: Me like Candace''s little sister with mom and me seeing eye to eye.


    I''d still huddle under a mound of covers, trying to beat back the press of morning rays through the side window of my room. My feet would be buried in my bed like the deep end of the pool. I''d have to cling tightly. Candace would have no regard for my sleep, as usual. Just tear them off and stare down at me.


    My automatic thought was me in a peach nightgown. I had no idea where that thought came from but it was my first. I tried to amend them into fuzzy blue PJs but the image kept returning to the nightgown.


    I''d struggle to recover my covers but Candace would kick them far away, so far that my half-dreamy state would be broken. Then, she''d tug me by both shoulders and drag me over to the bathroom.


    What came next, I could easily predict. It wasn''t just the offhand comment about me as a girl. I knew. She had a plan for this possibility. I remembered the year she wanted me to participate in the cross-dressing football game, despite the fact I''d never even approached touch football or cheerleading by accident. Halloween made for a sly set of proposals. Dressing up in "purely gender-neutral ways" as female characters from things I liked. A gradual slope.


    So, I knew that Candace would begin throwing every girly thing in her arsenal at me while trying to educate me in her strange ways. I can only imagine my animated self slowly dragging her body out of the bathroom while the vines of Candace''s arms enveloped her and hurtled her back into the abyss like some horror movie monster. Eventually, I''d escape. Hopefully.


    A return trip to this mall when I was "done" would probably be inevitable. A further, unrelenting onslaught.


    At that moment, something soft bounced off my head. I looked beside my feet. Black velvet gloves. Candace flashed an intimidating point of her finger and commanded, "Try them on." Both fit perfectly. Slipping them off, I soon realized why. Both of my arms matched. That was faster than I anticipated. I looked all over the newly-changed arm. With the other, they appeared strange connected to my torso. Like a human, melting ice-sculpture.


    Conceding this change, I immediately felt around and wondered what was next. Chest touch. Nothing new. Hip check. No wider. Adjusting my underwear. Nothing missing. It took a moment of standing to realize what was happening. My pants were loose. Nothing serious but they didn''t fall across my waist in quite the same way. Also, the bottom hem was closer to my shoes. Nothing to worry about. Not yet, at least. My shirt also felt loose but it was easy to tuck in. Standing, I also wondered if my height had shifted.


    I tried to find a point of comparison but Candace found me first and asked, "Well? How are they?" I held the gloves out for her without a word and she rolled her eyes before accepting them. Then, she paused. She''d seen my hands. No way to hide them.


    She held them together and beamed as she compared them. Allison joined her and gawked too. Then, came the inevitable question, "So, what''s changing now?"


    It didn''t take long for her to figure it out. She held her hand out to the top of my head and then to the top of hers. Allison looked between Candace and me for illumination. I guess I wasn''t short enough yet for it to be obvious. I admitted, "I think I''m getting shorter."


    Candace''s next words were, "I wonder if you''ll take after mom." She''d actually said that before, in teasing. I usually just ribbed her and glared. But now it stood before me as a literal possibility. I could end up the day looking like mom. Maybe including dark blue hair. It concerned me as much as taking after someone like Parker, despite her self-acceptance.


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    I never really minded growing up if I was¡­growing up¡­as much as anyone else. I tended towards the average and Candace even passed me in height for one brief summer, which she delighted in. My practical side told me it meant I could stay in my clothes longer before mom had to find new sizes and, at that time, dad''s jobs were sparse and mom hadn''t yet managed to recover from a long creative slump after I was born (although she was always swift to reiterate I wasn''t the cause). Candace had plenty of cousins just above her age, so she often wound up with tons of lovely, hand-me-down clothes that filled her closet to bursting. As for me, I always kept a small but reliable rotation of what I liked.


    Candace dashed over to find Parker and dragged her back. She wanted new info on my size, despite the fact it might soon be changing further. Allison stepped closer and looked me over before noting, "You seem a little tired." She gave a kind smile.


    I wasn''t that tired but I appreciated her sympathy. Before I could answer, Candace was dragging Parker and a length of measuring tape with her. I could merely hold on as Candace deployed the tape as a whip around me. She knew just which areas to take in first. My torso. Now around the thirties. Parker relayed that would probably be a men''s medium to small. My shirt was definitely feeling baggier than a few minutes ago. Then several numbers which didn''t mean much to me till we came to my waist. Just a few inches less but enough to make the men''s small possible for me to wear. Candace delighted that I''d fit into a large for women. All I was concerned about was whether the clothes I was wearing would sustain me.


    Buying clothes after Candace''s conversion was just a matter of what flattered her new colors. For dad, it was a slight adjustment and a different cut (and a few donations to the Goodwill). For mom, it was starting from scratch. She was at least able to use some of Candace''s old clothes for a while until she could find things to wear. The prospect of getting loaners from my sister didn''t thrill me.


    Candace zoomed over to the sizes quoted but Parker gave me a sympathetic smile and proposed something else, something small but clingy in case I changed further. They included a lot of elastic and drawstring options to keep my clothes on.


    Dragging her feet, Candace glared at them. I expected her plan was to keep trying new and ever more fashionable clothes as I got further along. I found an olive drab (Candace emphasized the "drab") pair of pants which felt blisteringly snug at that moment but that would change depending on how far things went. I knew, at the very least, mom would be able to wear them. They were high waters, so I had room to shrink. I also picked a snug, deep blue top in a futile proclamation I was still male (despite the fact I''d read enough to know that blue had an indefinite history with sex identification). The sleeves were long enough I could just about hide my arms. The best news was that the combo was cheap.


    Scuffing my shoes, I wasn''t sure what I would do about them. I''d always had feet on the smaller side and mom''s feet weren''t that small. I bought a pair of socks I might be able to double up or stuff inside for a temporary fix. All this ignored the possibility of other clothes I might need. But I was well willing to ignore them for as long as possible.


    Candace and Allison also brought up their purchases. Allison only made a few selections. Lengthy skirts and turtlenecks. Candace had clothes that seemed more like the first round of stuff she wanted to try on me, a scattershot of all types. She dumped a few when the subtotal came. Dad had given her the card but that always came with a limit. She gave a sad look at each thing she had to give up, like she was abandoning a wide-eyed puppy.


    Once everything was bagged, Allison positioned herself between us and said, "We really should get a snack and maybe sit down a bit. For the sake of rest."


    Candace looked ready to pout and declare it was still early, but she was here (at least by declaration) for Allison''s sake. So, Candace nodded and then started rattling off places nearby. The "health smoothies" place towards the food court was decided quickly by Candace and we followed.


    Along the way, I tried to sense any other shifts. I noticed that the pants were nowhere near as snug as before. In fact, they were a good fit now. Ominous.

 Part 8

    Drawn In


    Part 8


    During the walk, Candace recounted her plans for the summer. I''d heard them before. There was an "anime" convention in the bottom part of the state. The old sort more than the new sort. "Anime" in the East declined for a time, despite the fact it was where conversion was first seen. In fact, a teen girl living in a ward of Tokyo was the very first, noted case of conversion. Numerous marriage proposals and proposals of other types followed soon after before more cases emerged and she was considered old news.


    As for "anime", it rose again when the "live-acted" shows began to appear on TV. However, there were still plenty of purists who didn''t consider it "real" anime unless it was actually drawn. Such were the kind of debates that coiled around the fandom. I''d only ever been to one convention and it was early-conversion-era with a friend much more into it than I was. But I could tell that Candace would be a hit. All converted visitors (especially the female ones) were. They didn''t even need to cosplay (although many often did, with far more accuracy than could be imagined at any time before).


    Candace went on about all the characters she''d considered. I knew most of them she''d just seen in passing and liked because they had red hair like hers. Aunt Karen was willing to make an outfit for free so long as it didn''t involve anything too complicated. Of course, Aunt Karen made her own costumes for conventions of all sorts. She''s what some call "converted-at-heart", "dream-to-be-two-dee", or by slang "2B2D" in that she pines for the day her hand may start to change style.


    She asked for every new photo of mom she could get, like she''s collecting screencaps. She begged Candace to send photos and especially pleaded with dad if he could send a capture of a stoic pose or two (he usually only sent them for the holidays). Some consider it strange. I reflected on that, as I noticed there was a non-human awkwardly trying to sit at one of the food court benches. Specifically, a small, lavender unicorn.


    I''d seen one before. But it''d been a while since I''d seen one in ''person''. They had a simplified artistic style with sharp lines like my mother''s, only these lines were tinted deep lavender. It had huge, light green eyes with massive pupils which rivaled the kind most normal converted received aside from the "Chibis".


    It always surprised me that, despite their eyes, most converted see about the same as they did before. Some have said they can see more sharply or like a cat at night but the science is inconclusive. I noticed the unicorn shielded her eyes from a passing ray of light with a lavender hoof. Her mane and tail were a honeybee-like combination of light and dark yellow. The mane looked like a blond, curled hairstyle I''d seen somewhere before and her tail matched with a two-tone, half-arch dangling out the back of the chair. She noticed I was watching and gave a thick-lined smile and black arch of her eyes. I honestly couldn''t imagine anything darn cuter.


    Candace had to stop and say hi. She quickly learned the unicorn''s name was Rachel but she was thinking of changing it. She''d converted a couple months ago. The normal girl sitting across from her was a helper the state provided, since having horse hooves makes many tasks much harder and her horn was just aesthetic. I noticed that most people did stop to take a look at her. I asked her about it, "Do you mind that?"


    Rachel gave a little shrug and remarked, "I don''t mind. Someone did try to ride me once and that was so not cool. I actually get asked to take photos with people. It was kinda weird at first because I was not anyone famous before in the least. I miss the convenience of hands but nothing I can do about that."


    I had a question in my head but Allison, her fingers clenching her bags, asked it first.


    "Was this something you wanted?"


    Rachel shifted her mouth line but her blush told enough. She explained, "Well, you see there used to be this show¡­You remember it?" She gave some details. To Candace''s surprise, I nodded.


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    She continued, "Anyway, just¡­.ugh¡­it''s hard to explain. But it just seemed like a purer, better world. I''ve always felt that way about animation. It can be the best of what it means to be human. To recreate and change the world, you know?"


    We bid her a good day after we got her permission to brush her mane and tail. The girls even got a few pictures on their phones. I insisted we sit far enough away to give her some privacy.


    As soon as we were away, I noticed someone else approaching Rachel. I couldn''t even imagine a life like that. It occurred to me then that I should probably check how things might''ve changed since we left the store. I knew that the clothes I was wearing fit comfortably all over. I was almost down to Candace''s height, a fact I made pains not to point out to her. I sat down quickly at the nearest seat. The smoothie place was just a few lots away.


    Candace gave me a look. I stayed where I was and began sifting through my bags. She sighed and asked what I wanted.


    "Just their regular juice blend."


    She eyed me again. I tried to look really concerned about other things. She wasn''t buying it. I guess my poker face was never all that good either and likely to get worse in the end. She took a step towards me, tapped me on the shoulder, and asked, "Could you stand up?"


    Taking as much time as I could to set my bag back down, turn towards her, give a quick nod, and then slowly rise from my seat, I looked her in the eye. Candace smirked and held her hand between the top of my head and the top of hers. She didn''t need to lift it that much. Allison gave a gasp.


    One of the odder speculations for the conversion postulates that it accelerates when it isn''t being witnessed, like an odd sort of big-scale quantum state. I tend to favor it''s simply the idea of the watched pot. But it did seem to shift a lot while I was focused on far away conventions and imaginary, equine-filled lands.


    Looking over at Allison, I wondered if soon I''d be looking up at her. I tried not to entertain the thought, despite the fact I rationally knew that it would have no connection with how I ended up. There were plenty of impromptu studies of people trying to focus on a particular color of hair or a shape to universally end up with something else. No, what waited for me was probably already decided and all that was left was to, metaphorically and literally, color it in.


    I joined the girls over at the smoothie place and made my order. I sipped slowly and glanced around the food court. Aside from Rachel, there was only one other convert aside from Allison and Candace. He was standing at the back of the line at a Greek place. Everyone else in the line gave him a wide berth. I could understand why. His art style was intimidating.


    It looked like something from a gothic or noir indie comic I''d seen once. His shading was deep, draped across his brow. Compared to the more wide-eyed styles you usually saw, he had narrow, slit-like eyes that looked almost blank until he turned in your direction. Oddly-enough the size of his eyes was practically "normal" by usual measure. His black hair was an unkempt, jagged shape atop the fault-like aspects of his face. Black shading traced his red shirt and liquid-black pants. He had the pen strikes of stubble.


    I alternated between watching him and keeping watch over my pot as Candace and Allison made their orders. I felt sorry for him. That wasn''t the most touchy-feely art style to wear for the rest of your life. But he didn''t appear sad. The style lent itself to an inherent sense of brooding but he held his head high as he scanned the area.


    Then, someone called out to him. I saw an unconverted woman, with hair almost as black as his and wearing a radiant, green dress, wave at him. They embraced and she held him close. The crowd gave them extra space, especially as his touch spread to her. Little dabs of his style brushed against her as they kissed. I looked away and returned my attention all to myself.


    I''d probably have to roll the cuffs up soon. They were draped across my shoes and my shoes slipped more as I walked back to our table.

 Part 9

    Drawn In


    Part 9


    I sat down and fiddled with my shoes. Candace had to have a look at my feet before I went about stuffing the socks in, which worked better than I hoped. Allison sipped her strawberry concoction, the lines of her mouth undulating slowly. Candace''s lines throbbed like they were caught up in the wind when she inhaled her pineapple one. Of course, their influences covered the cups.


    I drank my blend. Candace began and dominated a new discussion.


    "We need to take more and better photos of my brother. Allison, can your phone take like really good pictures? Mine is kinda grainy. Mom has a DSLR at home."


    One that mom used for taking photographs of things for her art, displays, merchandise, and posting online. It was a great camera to be sure but mom would also have killed me if Candace borrowed it.


    Allison took out her phone and prodded it. I shared the same type of phone as Candace, so I''d be no help. After a minute, Allison smiled and offered her phone to Candace. Before saying anything, she snapped a quick shot of me. She reviewed it and rocked her head.


    After taking another one of herself, Candace announced the verdict of, "It''s better than mine. It''ll have to do."


    On our left side, near the taco place, a woman pushed an infant in a stroller. Not a converted baby nor a converted mother. Allison noticed the baby and gave a quick smile before it let loose with a piercing screech which echoed through the atrium of the food court above us. Candace poked at her ears and groaned. Allison gave a laugh.


    I hadn''t seen a converted baby in a while but I knew they existed. A strange thought, to live your entire life from birth as an animated human. The conversion rates for infants were slightly lower than average. Something like one in two hundred. And rarely is it knowable a child will be born animated. And animated parents almost never give birth to animated children. Mom ranted once about scams purporting to tell if a child will be animated or not and provide assurances one way or another, usually by skipping critical, mandatory vaccinations.


    Allison ran a finger along her colorful drink after she looked away from the baby. Candace watched her and asked, "What is it?"


    Looking up, Allison fidgeted and shrugged. "Oh¡­nothing. It''s just my mom was talking about how she got married still in her teens and had me soon after. And how the same happened with my grandmother and my great-grandmother. Like some dumb family tradition. She was nearly planning what kind of room her grandkids would have. But, since I changed, she''s dropped it. I mean, it''s kind of a relief to not have her breathing down my neck. But just because I look different doesn''t mean I don''t want to have kids someday." She pressed her nail into the cup then wrapped her arms.


    Candace touched her on the wrist and assured her, "It''ll be fine. You remember what we talked about with your parents, right?"


    Allison let out a deep breath and gave a nod before saying, "I just¡­I wish I had parents like yours sometimes. I mean¡­I love mine. Well, my mom and my step-dad, at least. But¡­yours have been through this and I just feel so totally lost."


    Scooting over quickly, Candace gave Allison a big hug. I felt a sudden whim to hug her too. Couldn''t quite explain it. But as soon as Candace released her, I put my arms around her too.


    I could sense the surprise on Candace''s face. Not that I cared. I was glad to see Allison smile. After a moment, Allison chuckled and said, "Thank you. Everyone always thinks of me as the strong one but this¡­it''s a big challenge. But¡­I don''t feel bad about it. Actually, the best part of all this is just seeing myself and being amazed. All the worry and anxiety comes from fearing what others see in my face now. But that probably sounds silly."


    We both assured her it wasn''t and she went back to slowly sipping her drink.


    Social things were definitely at the top of my list of current concerns. Not as though I was the sort to set a room on fire socially. That was Candace. Actually, she would set a room on fire, spray the flames in wide arcs, dance around the pyres, and then razz the firemen. I watched it happen a lot and yet I still couldn''t quite get it. She often managed to forge organizing connections with groups of strangers, with herself at the center, before she even walked into a room. Still, she wasn''t ''concerned'' with popularity like some people.


    For example, our high school had a multitude of groups. The Art and Anime Clubs merged for a while with some other clubs before a spectacular fragmentation. Animated Awareness clubs cross-pollinated everything from the religious clubs to the drama clubs. Some were more keen on converted members and others all but violated equal-inclusion laws with made-up rules. Then, there was the Candace Brown Fan Club.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    It was a literal, registered, and active fan club. Candace made the occasional appearance and I got roped into running it for a few weeks. Some meetings bordered on creepy. And Candace made it because there were previously no clubs dedicated to particular people on campus and she wanted to see if she could do it.


    I had no expectations I would have a fan club come Monday or anytime soon. There was a vague idea in my head of skipping a few days but I knew that news of conversion would get out through the Candace pipeline, if it hadn''t already via text messages she''d covertly sent. Still, I would have to go eventually.


    In my mind, I imagined arriving at class as an animated girl. I wouldn''t be the first but that didn''t help me feel any more keen on the possibility. I mentally transported mom''s image, only younger, into my classroom. That would be the toughest moment. I never liked that teachers took newly-animated students to the front and reintroduce them to everyone.


    I''d probably die a little inside but that''s school on an average day. Then, I tried to imagine myself with my friends. They''d met enough of my family that I knew they expected me to change eventually. I knew Amy wouldn''t bat an eye. Craig and Casey would definitely ask some awkward questions I wouldn''t be able to answer. Pete, however, I worried about. But then I usually did that anyway. They were my friends though, so I knew it would be okay.


    Then I imagined arriving at class as an animated girl like Parker. I stopped right there and went back to finishing my drink. Candace and Allison had been talking about something, which I caught the tail end of. Happily, Allison gave a soft laugh. Candace gave me a look and asked, "So¡­where should we go now?"


    I was about to answer when Candace''s eyes flicked to the top of my head. Allison gave a little gasp. It was one of those few moments in life where I actually wished there was a giant, horrifying insect sitting on my head but I knew it was because the changes had moved to my hair.


    As calmly as I could manage, I asked, "What is it?"


    Keeping her eyes locked on me, Candace reached down into her purse and passed me a compact. I could''ve just pulled on a lock beside my face because I noticed a bright, stray hair. I ignored it and grabbed the compact. I paused before opening it, took a breath, and snapped it open.


    My hair was bright pink. Very bright pink. Usually, it was a mellow, reddish-brown like Candace once had. Now, it was like someone had gone to town on it with scorching, pink dye. And not a cotton-candy, soft pink. A bright pink near the color Candace once had her nails painted. Bright, undeniable, blazing-from-the-top-of-my-head-like-I-lit-it-on-fire pink. And my hair looked shaggier as well but that wasn''t my top concern (yet).


    My hand trembled a little as I looked at my reflection. Just the hair. Although my facial hair was sparse. But my hair. My mouth dipped open a little. Same mouth. But my hair!


    I heard Allison''s voice stammer. All I heard from Candace was the artificial shutter click of Allison''s phone. I glowered at her and she hid the phone sheepishly.


    Finally, Allison offered, "Maybe¡­you can dye it¡­" It was really the only possibility. But mom had tried and failed to change the color of hers a few times before accepting it. For some, it was successful. For most, the hair just grew out faster to show the altered color. Mom earned the nickname "Rapunzel" for a while.


    Candace tapped a finger on the table, leaving a colorful little glow where she touched, and looked me in the eye. I looked over at her. I snapped the compact closed and passed it back to her. She put her hands over mine and said calmly, "Bro? You are going to be okay."


    The glittering color of her eyes looked even more intense than usual. Her words left no doubt. I wished I could''ve felt that same determination for myself or willed it into me by her expression alone. I could hear sounds beyond our table.


    There were chuckles. I could feel eyes on me. It wasn''t overt. It wasn''t someone screaming as if I was sitting there naked. It was painfully subtle but I could feel every inch of it across me. They knew what was happening to me. I couldn''t hide it from them or myself. I was turning into an animated¡­girl.

 Part 10

    Drawn In


    Part 10


    I rolled up my long sleeves, releasing my arms.


    I waited. I figured public mocking would come next. At least I wasn''t alone. But that was about it. I noticed some "normals" took a few, unconscious steps away like I was a plague carrier. The gigglers rose up briefly but then dwindled. When normalcy returned, Candace encouraged me, "Could you stand up a moment?"


    I didn''t really want to but I rose slowly, conscious of the fact I might actually lose my clothes if I''d shrunk by a lot. I rose and rose¡­but not by much. Candace rose and stood above me. By about a head. I felt like I was still on my knees. I stretched onto my toes in a vain effort to eke out one more inch. But that was all. Allison rose too and I grimaced. I was even shorter than her. She noticed and settled back in her chair.


    Standing there, I also noticed that my hips seemed slightly wider. It helped keep my pants from sliding off. The hems were spilling all over my shoes, which barely stayed on. With some work and stuffing, I felt like an idiot but at least looked presentable. The shirt sleeves absolutely buried my arms and the formerly-tight top was hanging off me.


    Before I could sit down, Candace insisted on Allison taking a picture of us side by side. She claimed she would just send it to mom. That didn''t make me feel any happier about it. My little sister loomed beside with an arm around me. I certainly didn''t give a smile to the pictures. Allison grimaced by way of apology for being an accessory and I finally sat down.


    I slumped on the table, barely propping my head up with my sleeved arms. I was definitely leaning towards heading home and burying myself in covers. Allison put a hand on my shoulder and offered, "She''s right. You''re gonna be okay."


    Allison glanced away when I met her eyes and then looked back. She didn''t have Candace''s intensity but I knew she meant it. I had no idea if either of them were right. I brushed far too much bright pink hair out of my eyes and puffed it with a bit of air before asking, "So, what now?"


    Candace bent up and almost launched into one of her usual pronouncements but she slowly bent back down before saying, "Your call, bro."


    I appreciated that, especially that she called me ''bro''. I thought about it a moment. Offhand, I knew that there was a salon somewhere in the mall. I figured Candace knew where. I recalled that they sold wigs. They were probably pricey though. Anything cheap would look lousy and weird.


    I didn''t particularly want to sit in a chair while a hairdresser tried to recolor my hair. Although I figured they would have some experience, it wasn''t really the sort of thing I wanted to do, especially when I didn''t know what else was going to change next.


    Really, the only option was somewhere quiet where I could easily hide. It was time to head back to the bookstore. Candace narrowed her eyes but accepted my proposal. Not as though she disliked books. Far from it. We were a family of natural readers. And Candace was the most polyamorous of bookworms. She delighted in a multitude of teen fiction which littered her shelves, many of them choices I could find no fault in. But she tended to slip between one and the other with great glee, forgetting some for weeks at a time in an infinite cycle. Occasionally, she might actually finish one.


    Allison clapped her hands softly and smiled. "Oh yeah! There are some books I wanted to check out. That''s a good idea."


    We finished up and gathered our belongings. I checked the back of my head. My hands slipped through dense extensions of hair on my shoulder. Leaning forward a bit, I received walls of blurry but brilliant pink. With a sigh, I hoisted up my sleeves and let my colorful, slender arms show as I gripped a handful of the bags. No sense in hiding the obvious.


    In a way, it was a bit like jumping into that terrifying, deep end of the pool. Only it was a slow drift and the water was ice cold. I waded through the early dinner crowd. Mothers wrapped arms around their children and subtly tugged them away from me. Fathers gave me a calm but stern glare. Kids laughed. Other teenagers laughed too. People murmured. And it all loomed above me. Allison and Candace joined me on either side. It helped a bit, aside from the constant reminder they were both taller than me.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Walking, I noticed the subtle projection of my hips as I walked. Not a girly walk. Well, not any girlier than my typical walk. But I felt like a child with my height and now-bulky clothes.


    During our trek across the mall, Candace passed time by mentioning movies she wanted to see in the next few months. She even mentioned one I''d been curious about.


    There were only a few well-known animated actors. Some quit acting when they changed (some returned). For a while, having an animated actor or actress (especially the later) was regarded as a stunt. Then, there were films last year that ignored the fleshy or painterly qualities of the people involved and got a bunch of awards. So, it became even more of a stunt.


    Allison mentioned a few movies too, and one film in particular with an actor who had gone through animation in a¡­complimentary manner. Her blush was subtle but clear as she talked about him. Candace offered up her own favorite actor. He wasn''t animated but she imagined what he would look like in art all the time. I could recite his name by heart with the number of times I heard it mentioned around the kitchen table. Not that I was without an actress or two I liked.


    The walk went quickly and I didn''t even notice if people were staring at me. The bookstore was quiet, even quieter than earlier, at least until Candace got over to the magazines. I lingered there for a bit but ultimately wandered the narrow aisles towards the back.


    I didn''t really want to buy anything but there was plenty to browse. There used to be three stores like this one in the area. Now there was just this, an off-shoot of the megastore on the other side of town. Mom always fumed about that. I traced a small hand along the book covers. Lingering on one, I watched. No change to the book. Not yet.


    I made my way to the current affairs section, where there were several animated issues books. Also, a few in the science section. I noticed one about hospital care for converted people. It had been a big thing during the last big political debate, despite the fact every single study didn''t find a single thing persistent or infectious about spreading influence. Insurance couldn''t deny coverage, especially for animated states. It seemed odd to me that they would, considering many animated people were in better health. The problem was that hospitals were still skittish. I remembered the time I went with mom to the doctor for a case of flu (which she still got seasonally). The nurses acted like they wanted to put her in isolation.


    Then there was the time the news tried to make a connection between a number of elderly, animated people who died close to one another. They glossed over the fact all were quite old. As well, in one case, an old man was walking for the first time in a decade and even went so far as to start jogging. He died in his sleep but medical reports couldn''t find a cause. However, animated biology can vary according to appearance. When a liver is considered healthy at a certain color, is it still healthy when it looks like a child colored it in?


    I avoided the ''New Age'' books but then I always had. The newest of them advanced wild claims about the cause of people becoming converted. Many were at least optimistic, touting a spiritual reawakening of the type which had been touted as coming for a long time with the Mayans. The first wave of new changes. The only ones I bothered with were the pantheistic ones which claimed a widespread "human spirit" energy which originally inspired the human form. Those who were "enbrightened" were closest to the energy source. Some went on about human art as a subconscious expression of this innate presence, connecting "anime" and the early Japanese conversions.


    The feminist works made me grimace because they suggested that the ultimate embodiment was a serene and glowing female spirit race that guided human evolution. I flipped through one in particular before I shook my head and set it down.


    Pink locks flicked against my cheek.

 Part 11

    Drawn In


    Part 11


    A touch check told me that my hair now fell against the middle of my back. A moment before, I didn''t feel like it was any longer. I had no idea how it had crept down without me noticing. I glared at the glowing female spirit books. Most of them just borrowed from old fantasy mythology anyway.


    I made my way between the aisles and to the back where almost no one ventured. It was quiet. I crouched on the floor, sat down, and leaned against a shelf. With the high shelves and all the turns, no one would easily see me. I noticed I was in the mysteries and crime section with fiction behind me and non-fiction in front.


    Crime was definitely something that survived in not-quite-idyllic reality. It had changed a few ways. All sorts of crimes against animated persons spiked for a while. Some were hate crimes, which especially got a lot of press. Others just seemed to be the normal sort of crimes that would''ve happened anyway. Although plenty speculated about the colorful attraction of the converted to criminals and suggested that animated people should "tone down their colors or not be so provocative" about them. Mom often chucked several, brutal things at the TV in frustration. Still, she warned Candace not to wear short skirts.


    And then there were crimes committed by animated people. It wasn''t a high percentage but you wouldn''t know that from reports. Every single one of them got mentioned, especially that one creepy, pale-toned serial killer who looked like he stepped out of a horror graphic novel with the curve of his mouth line. There were probably several books about him on the shelf in front of me. They were making a movie about him too.


    They caught him easily because, not surprisingly, having a face like something out of a horror graphic novel does cast suspicion on you. And then there were the animated traces left behind. Bits of converted skin look like they¡¯re scraped off a piece of art and make matching easy. If you have a distinctive color and style then you''re just asking for it as a criminal. It has become harder for police sketch artists though and easier for police line-ups.


    Fingerprints changed the most. Which reminded me, I''d probably have to take new fingerprinting for my driver''s license (and fill out a lot of paperwork). Animated fingerprints can vary wildly. Some styles show up too bright but essentially the same. Some don''t have fingers or have no marks on their fingers. Then there''s the ones with strange finger proportions which don''t even fit the scanners. Of course, in places where it matters about verifying identity, I''d imagine a seven foot, black-lined man with an oversized torso, spindly arms, and a green afro (who I saw in the line at the DMV, trying to find paperwork for a visa) would be hard to mix up with anyone else. Granted, I once saw a girl at a park who, from the back, had the same style and hair color as my sister but it was clear when she turned around that she wasn''t Candace.


    Turning around to look at some of the books, I realized my hair felt even longer and was getting caught. Something which annoyed mom endlessly about her hair when she had it down. I pulled it out and kept finding more and more of it. Colorful, flowing, animated pink hair. It draped over my shoulder and landed on my lap. I stared at it and swallowed. My hair had to be long enough to just about touch the floor from where I was sitting.


    I bolted to my feet and turned to check. So much hair everywhere. I puffed it out of my face and batted it aside. I really hoped this was as long as it was going to get. The texture was fully-animated and the color was that simple, shocking-pink tone. The shading underneath looked like a dark tint of pink. Anime style but not quite like mom''s. Hers was more blended. Mine had a sharp distinction between the tones. Not too much to go on just from that. I figured that I also probably had a slight halo-effect even under the indoor lights. That happened in the sun for some animated people, a shine ring around the top of their heads.


    I figured it was time to check where Candace was, since she had the only way of knowing how I looked now. I made my way around the curve of the aisle. It was such a blind curve that I bumped into a normal store clerk with a big brown box. He promptly apologized and then paused, staring at me. I heard a sound like a slurring of ''miss'' and ''sir''. He tucked his lips in and simply repeated, "Sorry. You okay?"


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    I nodded to him quickly and he hurried off with his parcel. I took a little bit of pride that I''d not gotten an automatic "miss" out of him. But still, that meant I had to be pretty far along. Touching my face gave no help. And trying to peer, crossed-eyed, at my nose only confirmed it still existed and wasn''t reduced to a pen stroke. It didn''t look as big though but then I typically ignored my nose.


    Feeling all around, my clothes weren''t any looser. Actually, my hips rose a little more. My waist felt different as well. Touching my arms and shoulders was inconclusive, especially with long sleeves. But they certainly didn''t feel any bigger. Then, I carefully shifted my hands to my chest. Flat, for now.


    My shoes were closer to sweaty moon boots with all I had inside to keep them from dropping off my feet but I was able to awkwardly walk through the turns of the shelves.


    Of course, Candace wasn''t up near the magazines anymore but Allison was. She flipped through a few gossip magazines but looked up when I approached. Her expression told me a lot. She bunched up her mouth line and concentrated on my face before looking over my body.


    Before I could ask her what she saw, I noticed a quick flash from behind. Candace with the phone camera from over by discounted teen fiction. I raked at my hair to keep it out of my eyes and asked, "So¡­?"


    Allison held concern in her expression. She fidgeted with her hands. Candace had to say for her, "You have a very girly face. But it''s not animated yet." I knew that much. Candace passed me the phone. She''d caught me from behind with my head turned almost in profile.


    My first thought should''ve been that I looked like someone photo-shopped a cartoon wig onto my otherwise normal face. Only it wasn''t my normal face. The boyish shape I was used to had softened. My lips looked slighter, a sign they would soon shift to animated proportions. My nose didn''t look different. But it was clear, especially with the hair, that my face looked feminine. So soft. Not even a hint of tomboy edge to dull the sentiment. It was a girly face.


    But that wasn''t what my first thought was. My first thought was how Candace had caught the shape of my body through the muddied lens of what I was wearing. It wasn''t Candace''s shape which showed lean shoulders and a slight dip to her hips. Nor was it Parker''s curvy outline with wide hips. It looked closest to Allison''s shape.


    I had a slow, inward arch diving deepest at the waist which contrasted against my wide hips. But I wasn''t curvy. At least not yet. I just looked like a teen girl in a drape of clothing. I sat on a small pile of magazines near Allison and passed the phone back to Candace. It was inevitable with everything so far but a whole other matter to see.


    The strangest aspect was I didn''t feel all that different. Sure my waist did feel a little more compact and my hips more spread out. My clothes definitely felt bigger and it was harder to see over some shelves. As well, I didn''t expect such a change in my face but now that I had seen it I could point out more and more evidence of differences. The passage of changes without my noticing worried me.


    Doctors had found that those undergoing animation were tough to track as test subjects. Mostly because of random onset and the difficulty of comparing one case to another. Eventually, they just decided to hire a couple thousand people and watch them all the time in a controlled setting. Only a few percent showed signs of conversion but they could cycle through and retain those who did change.


    While they still hadn''t found a specific moment when the change began, they did notice that those with the most radical style changes often didn''t panic or freak. It tended to be those who only changed a little and who could still see their original faces that would have the most negative feelings and concerns throughout. They even reported tingling or slight burning in their skin. But even these few seemed to relax towards the end. Most speculated there was an analgesic effect with whatever was causing the change, to mollify the stress to the human body both mentally and biologically. Some even found themselves sleepier during the bulk of their conversion (those who didn''t change while they were asleep). Some of those New Age works latched onto that as well.

 Part 12

    Drawn In


    Part 12


    For me, well, I wasn''t freaking out. I did feel a little anxious but it was more like lightly batting at the air. If I had to describe it, it felt at that moment like I''d left something I''d wanted to bring with me at home by accident. There was nothing I could do about it at the moment and I felt irked that it happened but also a bit helpless to make something happen to fix it. And I felt darn sweaty with those socks stuffed in my shoes.


    Candace lingered and asked me the big question, "You alright, bro?"


    Allison echoed, "You don''t feel sick, do you?"


    Physically, I felt fine. I didn''t like that I had to be overly-conscious of my hair getting in my face or snagging on something. I could''ve bought something to contain my hair but I honestly didn''t want to spend more money on things I didn''t even know if I''d need depending on how the rest of the change went. Mostly, I felt like going home and at the same time I knew it wouldn''t be any better there. What I wanted was a time machine capable of moving events a few more hours so I wouldn''t have to plod through the uncertainty. I muttered as much to Candace, who nodded.


    I rechecked my chest just to be sure nothing had popped up without my knowing in the last few minutes. The same as before. Allison leaned close. Some customers lingered and watched us. Probably because we were blocking the more popular magazines rather than the fact I looked like a half-girly, bright-pink-wigged weirdo between two anime girls.


    We regrouped just outside the bookstore on a quiet bench without many shoppers passing by. Allison went back to buy one of the magazines she had her eye on and Candace went back to browse a bit in turn. When Candace was gone, Allison tried to make absolutely certain I was alright. Wanting to change the subject from me, I carefully asked how her conversion went and whether she felt alright during it. She was quiet long enough for me to raise what would soon be a pen-strike eyebrow.


    "Not at first. I was so very calm that my parents freaked out with all sorts of accusations and yelling. So, I tried to be sad. I pretended to be scared so they wouldn''t be worried. It wasn''t till it was all done and they''d taken me to useless doctors who recommended all sorts of vague vitamins that I actually started to feel worried. About like¡­what I would do every day for the rest of my life. How my family would see me. How my friends would see me. Then, I called Candace and really¡­you have an awesome sister because she helped a lot." She smiled faintly and squeezed her book bag till it became drawn in her influence.


    I''d heard about the vitamin thing before. Some random tale that a case of conversion had actually been reversed due to diet. Like so many pseudo-scientific things before, it was thoroughly-disproved but still readily-believed as an item of last resort. An effort to say that something had been done. A placebo for stressed relatives.


    I smiled cryptically at Candace when she returned. She gave me a suspicious look then a curious look before asking, "What now?"


    I had a couple of ideas in mind. First, begrudgingly, I knew what I was wearing already looked ridiculous and might not be able to stay on for long. I had a rough plan though. Right next door to what remained of the mall gaming arcade was one of the stores on Candace''s list of places she liked to go. The games would hopefully be enough of a time sink. Allison noted the dance games she''d seen there once. Honestly, those ancient things were just about the only interesting machines they had left.


    It wasn''t a long walk. I didn''t get as many second looks this time. It was mostly the kids who watched me. Allison offered to play a couple games with me before she went to look at clothes but Candace and Allison wound up playing against each other because I didn''t feel comfortable dancing with my new hair whipping around. Allison showed far more skill than I expected from her reserved nature. The arcade used to be at a larger lot on the other side of the mall. This one was far more cramped aside from the featured dance games. There were a few percussion games and countless one-trick-pony light-gun games. One wall had an entire row of old racing games of which only about half worked and many screens were burned and discolored at the edges. Only the dance and music games seemed like they were getting any upkeep. The skee-ball games didn''t look half bad but the ticket dispensers were taped over.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    The laser tag area looked like it was in perpetual reconstruction. There was an air hockey table towards the back and a much nicer pool table even further back which looked like it had been donated. I remembered the old location used to have a lot more fighting games from at least the last five years. The newest in this arcade was a blocky, polygon fighter with a spinny camera. The old ones were at least among the classics and there were a few 80s and early 90s shooters. Enough to cycle through to pass the time. I owed Candace a quick game of air hockey before she went back to looking at clothes.


    Allison panted and clapped for us as we started our game. The puck was weathered but serviceable. Candace made a show of stretching and cracking her neck with a fluid animation. Then she shot the puck across the table to ding into the sidewall and ricochet vigorously like a pinball. It snuck into her own goal as she stayed outstretched and flailing. I smiled and she snorted.


    Her strategy was, as it always was, speed and flailing. I guarded but her shots sometimes knocked the mallet out of my hand. We were about even for most of the game. She did a little martial-artsy move and then used her free hand as a quick distraction. I won by a few and half of my points were faults on her part. Candace spun her mallet and gave a quick little salute before dragging Allison off to the clothing store. I slid mine like a hovercraft till the air turned off.


    The arcade was pretty quiet, especially with Candace gone. I strolled and struggled to keep my hair under control. I knew the quiet games would be more for me. I played a top-down aircraft shooter I''d never tried before but it was like 1941. It only nibbled at my change since it was generous with free lives. I couldn''t tell you how long I played but I eventually stopped when one particular "boss" kept wiping me out.


    From there, I looked around and considered what to try next. I noticed someone sitting in the empty area which would''ve been reserved for redeeming tickets. Her hair was stark-white with the same kind of shading tint mine had now. It looked feathery with a blue ribbon holding it up in a high ponytail. She looked small, even smaller than me (although still not as small as mom).


    She wore what looked like runner''s clothes influenced in her style, a pale-blue, hooded drawstring jacket with a matching pair of nylon pants. She had a book out in front of her and was reading intently. She glanced up a moment, noticing me. Her eyes were brilliant lavender with a core of royal purple. She leaned back and scratched at her neck before asking, "Is there anything I can help you with?"


    I spoke to tell her that I was fine but the sound of my words was closer to how Allison spoke than how I wanted my words to sound. I continued with an assurance that I was fine. This time, my voice sounded oddly closer to how I usually spoke. Adding a few more words, I found I sounded more like some female newscaster I remembered from TV. With that, I stopped talking and just smiled at her.


    She gave me a slight smile in return and asked, "How long have you been changing?"


    I asked for the time in a voice similar to an actress who did a lot of singing. I was surprised how much time had passed since we arrived at the mall. She bent under the counter and came up with what looked like a bar stool. She set it in front of me and I used it.


    She nodded when I told her about how long and remarked, "You are still cooking but getting there. I assume you were a bit taller when you started the day."


    Her voice was steady and had the tone of someone more mature. It had an even depth that didn''t flitter about like Candace''s words or step softly about the sounds like Allison''s words. Her voice was more like my mother''s.


    I confirmed her assumption and resisted saying more, folding my arms slightly. She watched me and noted, "I saw it as a blessing when it happened to me, like I had been touched by something beyond myself. You see, I am older than I look¡­"

 Part 13

    Drawn In


    Part 13


    With a sly expression, she urged me to guess. I tried a few polite numbers before I settled on her actual age, more than fifty. She certainly didn''t look it. She ran a hand across her sleek face, which looked paler than Allison''s. It was a light pink but also a cream more colorful than alabaster. The closest color I knew was probably ''forget-me-not'', which looked nothing like I expected when I started researching colors. In shadow, her flesh had a dusty-pink tone.


    I complimented her about her appearance. She bent up a hand and gazed at its shape. "Some days, I don''t even remember what I looked like before. And that is fine by me." She gave a quick chuckle and asked a bit about me.


    I hesitated and tried to search for the words. I worked slowly. I said I was a high school junior at Eakins High. I had indeed changed a lot. I was tempted to just show her my driver''s license or school ID so I wouldn''t have to say aloud what I knew all too well. But both pictures were thoroughly terrible and even more embarrassing.


    It took a couple breaths before I admitted, "My name is Kenny. Kenneth." Saying the name in a voice that sounded like Allison sucked on some helium, I felt my face grow hot. My blush was probably painfully obvious with my new face.


    Her thin mouth opened a slight, dark slit and then sealed it as she gently nodded. "My name is Cordelia. And I see¡­I actually have a nephew who is an animated girl now. But then he always would look sadly upon his sisters."


    I told her quite clearly I wasn''t like that, highlighting, "I mean¡­I don''t know why I''m turning into a girl. I never wanted to be one. It doesn''t make sense to me."


    Cordelia gave a slight, soft chuckle and touched a hand to herself. "I certainly didn''t pine for white hair and my favorite color is blue, not lavender. I always wanted to be stronger and wiser, if I had to change. But this is what happened to me. I actually slept through most of it."


    She settled back and talked a bit. She chuckled as she recounted revealing herself to her relatives. Most thought she was playing a practical joke on them. A few even renounced her, spewing forth all sorts of claims. But it was her eldest grandmother she reflected on most fondly.


    "She worked tirelessly in the mills back east till they closed. She lifted massive loads all throughout her life but can''t even lift herself out of bed anymore. It was last year, when she was still good enough for light work around the house. I visited her a few weeks after my change. She looked curiously at me through the door till I smiled. Then, she just about dragged me in and set about making food for me. I remember the energy in her eyes. I felt like being there recharged her. She clasped my hand and marveled at how my color spread to her. She asked so many questions. It was like years long past. And she told me something which really helped."


    Cordelia cleared her throat, settled her tone, and seemed to take on the essence of her grandmother as she said, "You are the only person who knows who you truly are. What has happened to you is a gift to show you more of yourself. It might not make sense but that''s how it is. We are all puzzles, especially to ourselves. Some, those who live in confusion, anger, and fear, have the gray side of the puzzle showing and nothing makes sense. But you have all your pieces turned right-side up. All you need to do is put it together, my dear. Then, you will understand and find all your joys." She smiled at me and spread out her hands.


    I clenched my hands and asked her, "Have you? Have you put it together?"


    She giggled softly and remarked, "Some days better than others. But it''s a long journey and I much prefer the journey to the solution."


    Stolen story; please report.


    I reflected on her words. I didn''t feel any closer to some great personal truth with my hair bright pink and my body turning female but I gave Cordelia an appreciative smile and a quick thanks.


    She relaxed her gaze at me and said, "You''re still young. Give it time. Life doesn''t even get that interesting until after your thirties." She gave a sly snicker and reached for a mug of steaming tea she had hidden behind the counter.


    I shifted the questions back to her. She recounted a few stories of how often she got flirted with by awkward, preening teen boys and the devious games she played on them. She reflected on how she considered going back to school and dropped in a few censored curses about the state of education.


    She worked at the arcade because it was something she did way back when she was "young and stupid". It was where she met her first husband. He helped her get a job at a computer game company back in the days when bits and ''blast processing'' mattered. Mostly, she did filing work and cleaned up around the office but she learned enough to debug when things got hectic.


    With a wave of her hand, she noted, "If only I owned this arcade, I would make sure it was truly loved and cared for but I do what I can with what the owner is willing to spend. Realistically, it probably won''t be around more than a few months. I fully expected to be fired weeks ago yet somehow I''m still here." I figured that had something to do with her anime-styled appearance but I didn''t say.


    Turning her tea around a few times, she told me, "You''re gonna be alright. First days are always the worst with the change. But it does get better." She led the discussion a bit into "lady" issues but I tensed up and informed her that I had a sister and a mother who I knew would help me with all that (if necessary).


    She relaxed and mentioned, "Also, there''s a small washroom in the back if you haven''t seen yourself in a while. Just push really hard on the door."


    I thanked her but didn''t get up from my chair quickly. I wasn''t keen to see the full picture but I figured I''d have to eventually and it was better to do so somewhere private instead of the ladies'' room or (less likely now) the men''s room with Candace hovering over me. The latter had actually happened more than once and got Candace banned from two restaurants in the next town over.


    The washroom wasn''t much, crammed with broken joysticks and miscellaneous old game boards. I pushed some aside with my shoe, flicked the light switch, and looked for the mirror. It was on the wall nearest me.


    There she was. Or rather, I was.


    So much pink hair. It appeared closer to a magenta with the dim halogen bulb above me. And my eyes. They were close to Candace''s shade of blue, only much bigger in size. But not as big as mom''s. They filled up almost all the white and they were clearly animated.


    The halo looked like a swoop at the front of my pink hair with little flecks of white accenting where the light caught it. The mirror wasn''t big enough to get the whole scope of my body. I felt my neck. It seemed smaller but it didn''t look animated yet. I took off my shirt.


    While the animation hadn''t finished my face, it had spread across my chest. My torso looked so small. My nipples were altered, which made them look a little bigger than normal but that was all I saw there. Everything was sleek and smooth. My waist was so tiny and, if you ignored the flatness, I presented an absolutely feminine shape.


    Bad but not terrible. Not yet. I slipped a hand to my pants and slid them down. I was¡­smaller. That much was clear and it was disturbing to see that part of my anatomy as living art. I was different there but even more so at my revealed hips. They were what my mom always used to mock grandma about as "child-bearing" hips. I grimaced and pulled my pants back up.

 Part 14

    Drawn In


    Part 14


    Checking my legs and feet revealed they were sleek and not made for my clothes. However, they didn''t seem to have shrunk any further. I also hadn''t lost more height, which was at least one note of relief. Conversion-wise, I looked like an odd, anime being with a human girl''s face planted at the top with pink hair and strange eyes. That state wouldn''t last long. In fact, less time than even I anticipated. I was getting ready to leave the washroom when I noticed a color shift going on at my face.


    I touched it carefully. A tiny bit of influence dabbed my cheeks, so I pulled them away. But the color change kept spreading. It was like someone was reducing the color map of my face, allowing me a narrower palette. The tone matched the rest of my flesh. But color wasn''t all I lost. I felt my mouth drawing in, becoming small and barely-depicted. Changing my expression brought it out again but the details faded until it was a line I could shift and part to reveal a slight, pink bloom and a deep-red arc of tongue and dark mouth within. My teeth were a crescent moon at the edges. With a small movement, I could hide all that away.


    Next, my nose shrank away to a dusty, shaded mark. In profile, it gave the same kind of slant mom''s did, though a little bigger. Crossing my eyes to stare at it, it was like someone had added a painted, makeup glow to my face. As for my nose, it felt like it was still there but it was so much smaller that it took a moment to realize I was looking at more to my left and to my right with each eye. My vision otherwise didn''t seem different. It may have been a little clearer. I flicked off the light to try the darkness. As I expected, no cat-like vision.


    I made my way out and back over to Cordelia once I was dressed. I traced my hand along the counter. She stared at my face a moment and consoled, "For what it''s worth, you''re turning out much better than some. I remember this one friend of mine; he was a sketch. Pale, quivering lines and no color. He looked like something out of an artsy 80s music video. He was terrified. The good news was he eventually filled in on his own and now he''s quite happy with the results."


    I nodded back to her and asked, "Has there been anyone you''ve known who¡­hasn''t been happy¡­even eventually?"


    She leaned back in her chair and tightened her mouth line. I was about to tell her not to bother but she said, "I''ve heard cases in the news, as you probably have too. People who want to go back but I''m inclined to think they''re just pushing aside their true feelings. There was one I talked to on an online group who I think is sincere in not enjoying it but I found she''s something of a changeling and she wouldn''t be happy in any final form. She craves change. And she actually has changed from her original form a little bit. Not enough for her but it''s helped. She has her down days though. And that''s about it."


    I''d heard of changelings. They liked everything and every style. They tended to be the ones who were happy when their change began but were unhappy when it concluded. The process of changing itself was their fulfillment. Most of them were the rare, studied cases of animated people who would remain in flux with gender, design, and colors. They tended to have mood-ring hair and eyes. I''d only heard of them but some shows enjoyed talking about them because a select few could do little changing tricks for the public which looked entertaining on TV. Most were performers.


    I thanked Cordelia for everything and she hopped over the counter to give me a hug. It was unexpected but I didn''t reject it. She offered to give me her cell number and info on the help network she belonged to online as well as the physical location where members of its chapter met.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    I considered her offer a bit and she threw in, "And we could have a gaming sleepover or something. Or not." She gave a chuckle. Despite the fact I knew she was over three times my age, I went ahead and took down the information to add to what Parker had given me. I glared at the piece of paper as it soaked up my influence like invisible water until I was done writing.


    I lingered by the front to watch an old fighting game demo before leaving. I was wary of others'' eyes. Truly, I was stepping out as someone else not quite finished.


    I was glad this section of the mall was quiet. Just some normal people milling around an art store. I moved in the direction of the clothing store but with a small step. I didn''t feel any eyes on me. I made it several steps before a group of girls, who looked a little younger than Candace, swooped out of places unknown and swarmed around me. One of them was animated and easily the most exuberant.


    Her hair was literally the color of dandelions with a soft, watercolor look. At the top, it crested from the overhead light as nearly white. She had on a gray top and an A-line skirt that swirled around her. It didn''t take long for her to notice me.


    She gave a blur/wave of her hand which flapped the excess of her sleeve and squeaked, "Hiya! My gosh, you''re so pretty!" Her smoke-gray eyes were in Candace''s size and style with her pale face spackled with freckles. Her cresting U of a smile line let me forgive the fact she''d instantly seen me as a girl like her.


    My answer was a soft, "Hi. Thanks." spoken in what sounded like another voice, a small, squeaky one which came across as younger than even her. Her friends regarded me one by one from the curly-haired blond to the one with black-framed glasses and a close cut of red hair.


    The dandelion girl gave a small laugh and marveled at me, asking, "Are you here with anyone? This is totally my first time out since I changed and it is so awesome to see someone else so quickly." She rattled off a quick litany of places they were planning on going. One of the girls took out her cell phone and another yawned.


    She was just about ready to claim me for the group when I found the words to say, "I''m with my sister and her friend. It''s okay but thanks."


    After a quick nod, she told me her name (Claire) and went about info-dumping me about her friends and asking if we all wanted to hang out. She seemed nice enough but it just felt peculiar to be treated that way by a girl her age.


    I had a few options. First of all, turning her down as politely as possible sounded fine but she was so infectiously exuberant. Then I could just explain my situation to her, that I was slowly turning into a cute anime-styled girl after waking up late noon-ish as a normal, male high school junior. I could just imagine whatever male ego I had left slowly dying inside as each one of them looked at me, probably comparing me to some pretty boy they''d seen somewhere. And then I could be creative and lie. I didn''t say they were good options.


    Ultimately, it was out of my hands because the next moment I heard Candace say from behind me, "I''m the sister and that would be a lot of fun but my friend is still kinda shy about crowds after changing too."


    Claire gave a sympathetic smile but launched at Candace and reiterated they had to hang out sometime. The rest was a crush of hyper-talk blur till they were heading off and I was left with Candace by my side. Her expression didn''t disguise her amusement at all.


    Before I could say anything, she noted with an accenting smirk, "Of course, you know you owe me. I may not collect today. It may not even be next week but I want you to remember that you owe me for getting you some privacy. So, big question¡­do I have a big sister now?"

 Part 15

    Drawn In


    Part 15


    I figured my anime expression was as undisguised as my feeling right then. Narrowed eyes, sigh, and a grimace as I assured her, "You still have a big brother."


    That didn''t feel very encouraging to say with her so much taller than me but I took a little pride in it anyway. Smacking her softly-shaded hands together, Candace stuck out her candy-pink tongue and said, "But you''re close. So close. Can''t wait. I should snap another picture. And then maybe message mom?"


    I urged her not to send anything to mom, not yet. I could see her finger linger on the screen but she relented, undulated her eyebrow lines, and noted, "Owe me two. Come on. You look silly dressed like that."


    I conceded that but I stared warily at the clothing options because so many skirts were at the front of the store. As I walked, I tried to keep conscious of any feeling or changes in feeling between my legs and I shifted between that area and monitoring if my chest had changed. I had so much attention on those parts that I didn''t really have a reaction when Candace started passing a variety of clothes to me. All I could offer was that the necklines were low. And they were. It was clear they were meant for someone with cleavage. Which I still didn''t have.


    I did like one in particular but it still had a distinctively feminine cut to the clingy material and a v-shape to the neck. It was a compromise but not one I really wanted to make. Candace didn''t budge. She mentioned my owing. I didn''t know she was going to collect so soon. She pressed me to at least try it on.


    Allison came over and sifted through a display. She had a couple tops on her shoulder. Candace recruited her for a second opinion but all she could offer was that it looked "nice". After that, she piled on the blouses, the camis, the skirts, and tight trousers, which looked like she intended to crush the last ounce of my maleness with.


    I offered her, "I''ll try some of them. Not all."


    We also agreed I would stay over near the rear changing rooms. The clerks at the front watched me and circled around, in a way that reminded me of nature specials about sharks, but didn''t approach. None of them were animated, so I figured they were just curious. At least they didn''t bug us about touching things. Candace giggled when the pants I was holding began to shift to match my art style. I glowered.


    Once behind the curtain of the changing room, I heaved a breath and scanned the clothes. They could''ve been worse but they also could''ve been more unisex. I figured I would try them on so Candace could smile a bit then I''d pick some real ones to wear out. And I''d also need to get some cheapie shoes more my current size. Probably something snug, although my feet didn''t seem to be shrinking any further. I checked myself in the wall mirror. I looked about the same.


    I slipped out of the clothes I''d gotten at the other store and sorted through the new ones. I''d have to pick something. I figured since Candace wanted to see me looking particularly girly, I might as well deal with that first. I selected the V-neck with nothing to show and the tight trousers. The top just felt wrong from the moment I slipped it on. Every inkling of my senses told me I was wearing something that wasn''t meant for me. And yet it fit rather well. It was much more comfortable. The neckline was annoying but at least it was flat.


    I knew I looked like a flat-chested girl. The dip of the neck actually suggested there may have been something. To my relief, there wasn''t. Slipping the pants on made me worry. I didn''t want to push the change. They weren''t as tight as I was expecting. Usually, I wore clothes much looser but they didn''t feel painted on. They did, however, play up the girlish shape to my animated form. Then there was the matter of between my legs. I could feel that it was still there but it was definitely clenching up tighter and tighter to me and it wasn''t just my imagination. The shape in front didn''t look manly at all and it got even worse when I took in the full scope.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Perhaps if I still had a normal, human form then maybe I wouldn''t have looked strange. But the feminine lines and curves of my drawn body made me look so much like a girl that I had to admit the reflection in the mirror was pretty cute.


    At least my walk didn''t play up any of these traits, a good sign that mental changes hadn''t altered me. But it was all so annoying. These clothes, all my hair, the feeling of it. This was not how I wanted to spend my weekend.


    But I walked out and over to where Allison had found a small chair and Candace was waiting with her arms folded, Allison''s phone in her hands, and a smile on her face. Her eyes darted wider and she snapped off a picture before I could say anything. There was a better mirror off to the side and I stood in front of it.


    I was such a girl. An anime girl. There was no part of my body in which my ego could hide. So I just glared at it and folded my arms too. Candace took another picture and asked me, "So, you like?" My expression was clear enough.


    Allison stammered and offered, "M-m=maybe you should try on some of the jeans? They might be more fitting."


    I wanted jeans which wouldn''t point out the way I was shaped but the next pair wasn''t as bad when I tried them on. I traded the V-neck top for something which was snugger. I preferred the visual which didn''t at all suggest I had anything up top.


    I got a couple colors and lamented how depleted my spending money would be for the month. But it felt like a small victory I would have something of a buffer before I might have to sift through my sister''s old clothes for hand-me-downs.


    I sighed at discovering my new shoe size and selected a serviceable pair. They were much more comfortable and easily the least feminine thing I purchased. I resisted listening to the clerks because I suspected a gendered pronoun was coming.


    Though I walked out of the store wearing clothes I wouldn''t have even put on as a joke the day before, they did feel decently comfortable.


    Clothing settled, I resolved to ignore my current state as best I could. Sure, I had blindingly-pink hair but I was just one person out of many and out of plenty who were animated. But I inevitably felt singled out. I got looks from passing, teen guys that soured my mood. Not helping was the fact Candace subtly nudged me to the front of the group so everyone saw me first.


    I couldn''t wait for the next store because I told her flatly I was just going to wait while she and Allison shopped. At this one, they both spent a little more compared to the last one, where Allison just got some accessories and Candace got a smile and picture evidence.


    Out of boredom, I poked through a few hats that seemed like they might make hair a bit less obvious. One gray hat wasn''t too bad but it was very fashionable, especially when the influence from my head made it match me. And I still had long streams of shock-pink locks. I wondered if I could pin it up and trap all my hair inside. Even a quick check showed it was a futile effort. I sighed and glanced at myself in the mirror. The hat wasn''t helping.


    I wandered the floor, resisting the more energetic clerks, and made my way to the back. There was a full mirror at the end. I lingered on my reflection. The shoes were a sensible pick and they felt comfortable so far. I still didn''t like the cut of the jeans but at least I felt like I had a little more wiggle room. And my top. I paused there.


    No, I hadn''t blossomed. Not yet. But my shape was different. Whereas the top felt a bit snug before, it felt like a good fit. A subtle difference which could''ve just come from stretching but it was ominous. I didn''t want to get even smaller and girlier. It was bad enough Candace could loom over me.


    I put my arms down at my sides. The reflection did look like a work of art. Perfectly shaded to the overhead lights. I looked at myself and took a breath. As I knew well, so many people who were converted didn''t feel bad about the results. I''d seen a pony who needed assistance all the time and didn''t mind. Putting aside those who called it brainwashing, I took a full look at myself in the mirror, at that effeminate reflection. Was this okay?

 Part 16

    Drawn In


    Part 16


    I was happy I wasn''t a pony or some abstract work of art which had to learn a whole new means of locomotion. What did I like? The smoothness was a bit trippy. It had kinda been there for a while. Feeling it all gave me a little shiver. One perk of Candace and mom''s changes was they found the little stuff like inconvenient hair was airbrushed away. I never had any great desire to cultivate and shape my facial hair. A pencil-thin mustache may have been amusing for a laugh but I never really saw my face that way.


    I shut my eyes and thought about how I did see my face. I knew my regular face. I knew the contours of my nose projecting so much more than it did now. I should''ve felt dissonance with my self-image.


    I''d seen that sort of thing on one of those occasional afternoon talk shows which would look for those with extreme changes. One of them was a forty-year-old man who looked like a blend of Cordelia and Parker (silvery hair, small, and a bust which the camera operator kept emphasizing). They tossed out all the clich¨¦s but she was quite interesting because of how humble she was. She expressed a semi-religious feeling that, "this is a gift". But she spoke about how her face didn''t match and, for a long time, "I didn''t even know my face."


    Tears like sparkling blue jewels hugged the corners of her massive eyes as she said, "I never knew my face. I denied it. I tried to hide it. But my face was blank. When I tried to find it, it felt like a shapeless mask. I looked a long time till I felt it and then, when I changed, it was like someone had done more than I could ever hope for. They peeled the mask away. And they gave me the gift of knowing what was inside me all along."


    I reflected on that conversation and rolled my eyes a bit because of the melodramatic music they used to overplay the moment. But I looked at my face and I tried to think about that.


    I''d spent one particular summer reading through all the psychology books I could get my hands on because dad was editing a psychology textbook. I got a couple glimpses of Jung, enough to know that all the deepest stuff was going over my head. But I was intrigued by symbols.


    The outward persona. I tried to become more conscious of how others saw me after that. I considered trying out a random accent with people I''d never met and probably would never meet again on random trips. But, in some ways, it was like the pool.


    I could mime my legs like I was swimming underneath and I looked like I was floating but I was on the safe end of the pool the whole time, anchored to the bottom. I never did try my experiment. Not that it would''ve meant anything to my persona. I did notice the way I presented myself changed in subtly-different ways with different people. It was fun talking with dad about the textbook that summer.


    I started a dream journal to dig at my unconscious. I tended to dream action movies which I forgot soon after waking with just feelings of running or doing things I couldn''t possibly imagine myself actually doing. Some visuals stuck out and I would sketch them. In the end, I abandoned it. I got the impression either my unconscious wanted to bungee off bridges or my brain was preparing for the shock if I ever found myself crazy enough to attempt that.


    Trying to find my Shadow intrigued me because it was challenging to wrap my head around what mine might look like. I would go back to the wild child of my dreams and imagine them wanting to blast through to the far end of the pool and basically become everything I saw in Candace.


    Candace even read some of the books (or rather skimmed through them at a swift pace). I asked her what she thought about herself. As I remember, she just said, "I am me" and gave a swift little shrug. It made sense for me that her animated form, if we suppose it was getting closer to one''s self, wasn''t too far removed from how she looked before, just more so. That made me wonder, with a suppressed shudder, that maybe the Candace I knew growing up was actually¡­holding back on her energy?


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    But then I had seen my sister have quieter moments, like at the food court and before she chose to have some dress-up fun. Not that she had mellowed out or that I would attribute it to becoming an animated person.


    And then there was that one part from Jung. Anima in the male psyche. At that time especially, I tried to make counter cases to anima and animus. I wrestled with them a bit. Ultimately, I didn''t dwell on them. But here was an example of both sides combined staring at me in the mirror. Although my feminine side seemed to be winning out in spite of anatomy (checked to make sure, yes) and my mind was not behaving in a more feminine fashion, however that might be defined. At the very least I hadn''t turned into a Candace doppelganger. At the same time, I wasn''t Parker with all her little gestures. I was probably closest to Allison.


    I looked back to the main area of the shop and I could see her hand lightly-touching the clothes as she sifted through them. I could imagine her hanging to the side of a pool as she swam. But it wasn''t quite the same for me.


    So, I wasn''t any of them. Mom would have quirks where she would have a long-running dialogue with herself when trying to work through her next composition and it was like waking her up when people talked to her. I had moments like that when I was reflecting but I didn''t consider that inherently feminine. Then, my friend Amy. She was dry wit and whatever random snark I had running through my mind incarnate. In that sense, maybe she was more like Candace and her circular, self-declaration? But was that even true?


    As was often the case when I read the psych books that summer, I found myself knowing a lot of things but understanding far less without clarity. My hope was that, in time, it would make more sense. Whenever I expressed this notion to mom and dad, they would smirk a bit to themselves but give me the kind of look which didn''t bode well.


    I poked my reflection, still at the quandary of why I looked like a half-pubescent girl. Miss Reflection refused to spill her secrets. As I turned away from the mirror, I felt a twinge in my groin. I''d once pulled a muscle sprinting after Candace as fast as I could (long story). This didn''t feel like that.


    I tried not to panic. I did shiver like an echoing impact against my back. I wasn''t ready for this. Not yet. I shifted my legs again but felt too unsure to check any more in public. I picked up a random jean jacket and rushed into the changing area. I avoided Candace''s door.


    What I found disappointed both my optimism and fears. I was still a guy. Technically. Not much left and the form was strange. It was like a hidden tortoise. My first mental impression but it made me groan. The art style also seemed to smooth things away. Shifting my clothes, some areas seemed more sensitive and raw but not in a bad way. I had to admit that my gender seemed just about sealed, especially when I decided to double-check my chest.


    It wasn''t a big thing but it seemed slightly fleshier. Unlike some art shifts, I still had nipples and they seemed more prominent. It could''ve just been a side effect of my art. I wasn''t sure if they had swollen since last I looked. I hadn''t lingered on that area before.


    An obvious change was the contours of my mid-section. There was no way in heck that form could be passed off as boyish. Even more of a stabbing, bold emphasis in the drawing of my shape.


    Slipping my clothes back on, I still looked like a girl, only not quite so much. Adjusting my shirt discovered several positions where it almost looked like I had breasts.


    I hesitated in moving it to a position that looked less feminine. That hesitation had my mind racing to interpret and understand. The visage in the mirror, wearing my same, sudden grimace looked back at me with crystalline blue eyes and all my festering questions.

 Part 17

    Drawn In


    Part 17


    I did try on the jean jacket before I left and, had my wallet not been aching so much and the day been a colder one, I would''ve considered it. It was also unisex enough I didn''t find it intimidating.


    Setting it back in its place, I scanned for Allison. She was trying on a few shades which didn''t look right for her. Her indifferent expressions told me she agreed. I approached her with a wave and she smiled back.


    She asked me how I was doing. I took a moment to process. I didn''t want to deluge her, so I just said, with a sigh, "Holding up."


    When I asked her how she was doing, she fiddled with a pair of shades and told me, "I feel bad bringing it up after all you''ve gone through¡­" I stopped her and assured her it was fine.


    She continued, "It''s¡­I just wish I had a sense of what comes next. Candace has given me some good advice but I keep worrying it will get worse with my family. I don''t think they hate me. But there have been things which really scare me. I''m thinking maybe if I got shades to wear home then maybe it''ll help so they don''t see my big eyes as much¡­" She pushed the shades aside and I grimaced.


    I leaned forward and reminded her, "You said this felt right before."


    She nodded but without enthusiasm. "Yeah, but what if I''m wrong? I dunno. Mom was talking about mind control stuff and deprogramming from TV." I had an inkling of what she meant. More conspiracy theories about animation and that the reason people accepted becoming strange, animated beings so readily was due to mind control. The sources were various depending on who or what the amorphous bad thing of the week was but the supposed solution were fly-by-night-style deprogramming "clinics" to "set right" those who had been altered. I really hoped that wasn''t in Allison''s future.


    Thinking back to what Cordelia had said about a sleepover, I put forth that idea to Allison on a whim. I didn''t want her to sink back into worry right away, into loneliness. She wiggled her mouth line with indecision but remarked, "If it''s okay with Candace¡­"


    Immediately, from behind me, I heard Candace exclaim, "Of course, it is!" Naturally, Allison murmured that she''d need to phone her parents. Meanwhile, I prodded Candace for sneaking up on us and listening in. She flashed her color blob of a tongue and asked, "Well? Finished yet?"


    I must''ve given her an obvious mouth line sign because she dialed back her mood from hyper Candace to a more subdued version when I reacted to her question. I told her as much as I was willing, "I don''t know what''s going on with me. Honestly. I''m kinda between." I could feel the obvious blush color my cheeks at that admission.


    Candace''s expression stilled and she slowly put her arms around me. The disconcerting part was how easily she enveloped me with her embrace. She resolved, "You are you as I am me. And I know it''ll be alright. You''ve got me. You''ve got mom and dad. You''ve got everyone always whether you''re a cute art boy or a cute art girl or a talking horse or whatever. I told Allison this and I''m gonna tell you this too but¡­if you dare use it against me, I will make your life the most adorable hell you can imagine." She gave me a quick, piercing glare with those stony eyes. I nodded and held out my hands in submission.


    She continued, "I was absolutely lost when I changed. I was confused. I was worried. I was disappointed and angry. All at once. All the incredible possibilities and I turn into someone''s mediocre drawing of ME? And I didn''t get to be some sort of changeling to pick all sorts of things? I called bull on the whole thing."


    I frowned and recalled all her exuberance and don''t-care attitude. She smirked at me. "Well, that''s me, isn''t it? And it is. But I was also disappointing to me. Maybe I was less than I thought I was. I had no clue. But I kept up and I thought about it. And I came to realize I liked all the wild and exuberant possibilities more than I liked being them. In the end, I am me and I realized the drawing me, my face, was my face. Actually, a bit better than I could draw myself but it was there."


    I asked her why she hadn''t mentioned it before. She leaned back and calmly said, "Because I knew you''d need it when or if it happened to you too."


    I stood there staring for a long moment till Candace gave me a beep on the nose and a smirk. She flipped out her phone and announced, "If Allison''s parents say staying over is okay then we have a decision to make."


    It was the decision hanging over most of the afternoon. How exactly would we get home? Dad had a driver''s license (but mom did not) and we did have the old van for transporting mom''s works to exhibitions. It ran but only had the driver''s seat and there was a small hole towards the back where mom''s flaming, performance art of "horrible fonts" ignited prematurely. Allison apparently took the city bus a few miles from her house to get to the mall. And then there was the option I could just drive us all home as carefully as possible and hope my shock-pink hair wouldn''t prompt the police to pull me over.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Officially, the licenses of the recently-animated fell within laws describing "contingent transitional circumstances of identity", becoming an issue of official bureaucracy. Still, I could run into a cop having a bad day.


    I clenched my hair in my hands. I still really wished I could stow it somewhere. There was too much of it. I tossed it aside, which only put a lot down my front. I sighed. Candace wiggled her phone.


    Allison returned with news that she''d gotten grudging permission for a sleepover, mainly because her parents didn''t know anything about our parents. For the issue of the drive home, I really didn''t have any ideal choices. So, I just resolved, "I''ll drive us home but I need to hide my hair."


    Candace actually found a nice, dark hat which hid enough of my hair on the top and, for the spill-over, she put one of her cardigans she''d bought over my shoulders. There was a flash of pink but it looked more like I had a weird, pink scarf peeking out. I still looked like an animated girl but one not quite so boldly colored.


    I wore the outfit back through the mall to where we were parked. The crowd had grown from earlier with a few more animated people. I noticed a sisterly-looking pair with classical blond curls that resembled a museum painting from the back.


    Fortunately, I wasn''t as singled out by the crowds. However, we were the only animated group of more than two, so that alone brought glances. My arms were so tired when we made it to the car. I managed to arrange all of Candace''s purchases in the back. Allison''s buys took up a lesser portion and mine took up the least.


    Allison and Candace hung out in the back seat and looked at little things on their phones as I settled in and started up the car. I took the roads around the mall slowly. Too slowly, really. I got passed with a honk by an impatient driver.


    The main roads were busier than earlier but not as bad as a weekday. I signaled patiently and looked warily for the tell-tale grayish-green Crown Victoria shapes of the county cops. Seeing none, I merged onto the road.


    I spent several uneventful minutes that way before I got a quick scare of a car that looked similar to a cop pass on my left. I took the shortest route even though it was the busiest.


    It looked like I wouldn''t even see a cop. Then, I stopped at a residential sign near the house and checked to my right. A cop stopped right next to me. The window on the driver''s side rolled down and a head with bright blue hair and brilliant ruby eyes peered out at me. His head was topped by a pair of velvety cat ears. They were just cosmetic but I knew from what I''d read they were physically attached to his head.


    The officer was in his full, brilliant-green uniform. He looked at me like a stern, pretty boy out of an anime. I tried a faint smile and turned my attention back to the road. I checked the intersection and glanced back.


    The cop receded into his window, the glass went up, and he made a right. With relief, I drove the rest of the way home and finally settled back into the seat when I set the parking brake.


    Candace, who had been quiet aside from a few whispers with Allison about her phone, bolted out of her seat, retrieved all the bags, and nearly grabbed me by the scruff of the neck as one more thing to haul inside.


    She nudged me on my toes and propelled me through the front door. She didn''t stop until I stood in the living room. Only mom was present, with a sketchbook in her hands. She slowly looked up with those big, green eyes. I offered a faint wave, took a deep breath, and said, "Hi, mom."


    Dad joined a moment later and sat down on the couch beside her. I added, simply, "Hi, dad."


    Perhaps not the most uncomfortable moment of my life (I had plenty I could choose from) but I still wanted to escape the room. Candace stepped to my side and put an arm on my shoulder before proclaiming, "This is my big/little/ brother/sister Kenny!"


    And that was enough to break the tension. Mom went first. Her eyes widened even more. She murmured something like, "I had no idea". There were fast words about what Candace had said over the phone exchanged between mom and dad. Dad eyed me curiously. I worried I might see a knife-feeling of betrayal in his gaze but dad had never been a manly man and that had especially been so after he''d been animated.


    He was the first to start crying and leaped at me with a big hug. Mom followed swiftly after. Candace made sure a bewildered Allison was part of the group hug too.

 Last Part

    Once the chaos of that moment settled down, the inevitable questions came. I could see Candace wanted to jump in with all her regular exuberance but I glared at her and she took a step back.


    I responded, "Well, after what I called about, I just kept changing more and more. And I don''t know why I''m this way."


    Mom frowned and asked, "Do you think it''s¡­finished, Kenny? And are you¡­" She put on a dusting of red and folded her hands. I certainly felt about the same but I had no idea, so I excused myself to check things out properly.


    When I left, the tension eased a little. Candace presented Allison and all that she had bought. Of course, there were words about overspending but Candace already launched into her explanations about how everything she''d bought was actually a "vital" purchase.


    I could shut all that off for a few moments as I closed the door. It had been like this each time. Candace''s (apparent) positive mood helped but there was so much unknown. With mom and dad, they had each other. For me, I had them all but I wasn''t quite going through the same thing they did. If I''d become the typical handsome boy then dad could give pointers. If I''d just become some animated version of me then at least I had myself to cling to.


    Looking in the mirror I saw a pretty, flat-chested girl. Candace had ditched my hat and reclaimed her cardigan so my hair blasted brightly even if I turned the main light off to let the nightlight show. With it on, it bounced a pastel flash which made me clench my eyes. And my eyes. Those brilliant blue orbs. I actually kinda liked them.


    I wondered over the combo of pink and blue with all the rest as I slipped off my clothes. I checked the small clock over the toilet. Thinking back to the time when I''d first seen the spot on my hand, I realized I was pretty close to the longest-observed conversion if it was still ongoing. Even those who had post-animation shifts or who became changelings saw signs in the last few hours.


    With that in mind, I undressed and set my clothes aside. I used the big mirror to get a better view. Looking straight down, I felt a flash of emotions. My chest rose a little more. It wasn''t much but it did shift a little and feel different than I was used to. Though I wasn''t sure why, I had this sense like it didn''t have any higher aspirations, certainly not to challenge Parker.


    Then, I looked lower and the back of my neck prickled. I couldn''t see anything down lower. It took some effort but I eventually found something left. At the same time, it felt different. There was some subtle caving and formation but that was it. Otherwise, it felt like my groin had been mashed inwards. I found I could pee in the normal way as it ''extended'' a little when I went. It was simpler sitting down but I found it a small victory that I could manage standing without a terrible mess.


    Of course, all victories felt small as I looked in the mirror. I inspected and questioned the mirror. I pinched and tugged at my cheek. It pulled out like a painter''s brush smearing a color. And it hurt.


    I rubbed at my face until a reddish-tint emerged. Putting my clothes back on, I settled into the dry tub and leaned my head back against the rim.


    What if I was one of those few percent who didn''t accept their change, didn''t want it, or didn''t show their animated image at heart? I shut my eyes until I heard soft knocking on the door. I could hear mom''s voice.


    "Are you alright, sweetie?"


    I answered her quickly that I just needed some time. She offered whatever I needed and added, "We''re all here for you. It''s just a surprise. We love you always and no matter what."


    I slumped down in the tub more to look up at the ceiling. The pink hair clustered around my face but I didn''t feel irritated enough to contort myself to brush it away.


    I wanted to glower at my "inner self", imagining it as a traitorous imp. It could''ve shown me as a girl like Parker. Although, I never felt her boldness. But at least I could''ve gotten that over with and decided, "Okay, I''m a girl now, and here it is, all out there". And if it wanted to show me as Candace''s shy little sister, it at least could''ve finished the job. What good was I as this half-baked mess?


    I sulked for a while, to the point where I knew that it wasn''t really fair to hoard the bathroom so long. I ventured out and was going to hide in my room but Candace was camped out and expecting me. My status update disappointed her as much as me but was relayed swiftly. Then I hid.


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    I plopped down on my bed and tried to find the same position as the tub. I could imagine I was leaning back, afloat on invisible water. I clenched my cheeks. I could remember how the water would lap at the sides, pushing to get inside my mouth. They tried to teach me how to float on my back but I knew it was just a way to try to get me to the deep end of the pool.


    I imagined my legs dipping down in the water. I imagined them not touching bottom. I could feel the water digging at my lips. I kept them closed. I tried to raise my head like they said. Hands behind my head and flat for more resistance with my chest up. I arched in bed.


    I was going to drown, wasn''t I? My legs kept dipping lower and lower. But I was bobbing. Just my imagination. Or had that happened? Maybe before I panicked. Maybe I''d actually floated and never realized it. I brought myself back to that moment. I knew there was no real water, so there was not the same fear.


    Leaning on my back, I began to shift, I bent forwards and tried to paddle like they told us. I tried one of the strokes. I was definitely better than I remembered. I swam with my eyes closed, I moved by touch. The water was warmed by the long boil of the summer sun but still cool as my arms flicked through the air.


    Suddenly, I stopped. I realized I was paddling in the water. My legs were kicking against it. I wasn''t touching bottom. I opened my eyes and looked down. On top of my pale, blue sheets, I rested.


    I took a breath. Okay. Who was I, if I wasn''t who I expected? I examined my hands. With the light of my room, they had a muddled pink coloration ranging to melon in shadow. I touched them together. It was a different touch, different shape, length, and everything. I twisted them in the lamp''s light. I swung them.


    I poked and prodded myself all over but understanding eluded me. I tried a more objective perspective. Could I be somehow intersexed in a certain psychological way? Maybe some part of my analytic nature had divorced me from a binary division of gender? That didn''t explain how much the girlish physical parts were winning over the gender-neutral ones. Perhaps, I subconsciously wanted to better understand my sister and, despite my aversion to a lot of the things she was interested in, I still craved to feel closer to her. So, why didn''t I become her ideal sister?


    Could it be that I was ambivalent? Maybe, I contained some part which didn''t mind a feminine aspect but my male ego still wanted to hold on? Then, some part of me went and (mentally) kicked me with a thought.


    I had always tried to be sure. To know as much as possible. To seek to understand and analyze. Could it be my inner self was something of a jokester and wanted to give me the ultimate quandary to puzzle and seek for the rest of my life? It was already working. There was a creeping ache passing across the side of my head, so I let it go and rested.


    I was sure I hadn''t rested for long before I heard what was clearly Candace''s knock on my door. Her knocks never changed.


    She''d come to invite me to a clothing try-on, a movie, an impromptu book club, hair braiding, first makeup practice (I glared at that), photos with parents, dinner with parents, a call to/plans with Parker, a sketch with mom, a talk with dad, board games with everyone, along with more random, assorted ideas to make Allison as happy and smiling as possible (but not necessarily in that order).


    I could easily recall young Candace planning her mastery of every swimming move as well as becoming girl Neptune of the Seas and a gigantic monster to terrorize all mankind. If anyone was everything in one breath, surely they were my sister. So, what about me?


    Any normal day I''d wave off her animated chaos and I''d settle into my relative normalcy. But I gave her a roll of my eyes, deep blue of the distant seas, and said, "One of those first but okay¡­"


    So, she seized me and hauled me out of the room face first.


    There would be tomorrow and a school full of uncertainties in strangers and friends. There would be the rest of my life and questions about how I saw myself and how the rest of the world saw me.


    But, on a waning Sunday evening, there was my sister''s hand wrapped around mine, dragging me into the deep end of possibilities unknown, and I didn''t feel afraid.

 Animated World Sourcebook

    Animated World Sourcebook


    ~~~~


    *Short Version For Writing A Story In This World*


    At current, between five and ten percent of the world is animated. Normal people turn into animated ones over several hours (between two and six), often while they sleep. The change always begins at the hand, with no preference for left or right. Most accept and even enjoy their change. Their art styles vary as much as the human imagination. Their touch spreads their art style temporarily to the things and people they are in direct contact with but does not change them. There is no known cause but the world is adapting to the presence of millions of people who look like living works of art.


    Limitations


    ~~~~~


    No superpowers. Skilled changelings would be the closest thing but less than ten thousand exist. Of those, very few have full control of their ability to change.


    Wings or added physiology fall within human limitations.


    There is no means for the conversion process to be weaponized or intentionally spread.


    ~~~~~


    Origins


    *Slightly over two years previous to the events established in Drawn In*


    Early Spring (Two Years Ago) - The first reported case of animation occurs to a young, female artist living in an area of the Minato ward of Tokyo, Japan at the time.


    Throughout Spring ¨C Transformation rates soon accelerate throughout this period from the first few cases to hundreds and thousands a day.


    Global air service is shut down on the assumption this is some sort of contagion. Many schools are on spring break but remain shut for several weeks and some remain closed for the rest of the year/term. Several art schools are irrationally threatened and firebombed. Panic quickly grips several nations with unrest and a breakdown of order. Emergency laws are enacted along with imposed curfews and house quarantine for the animated. At this time, at best, the recently transformed are poorly-treated and shunned. At worst, they become scapegoats. Some countries fare better than others.


    It takes several weeks for the chaos to calm. Scientific study begins as quickly as possible to try to understand the phenomena. Early results quickly and decisively rule out a communicable factor (despite this, some continue to foster conspiracy theories regarding a man-made cause or biological weapon).


    All told, the global ripple effects, variously nicknamed, cluster several months after with continuous news coverage. The economic effects linger two years hence with a slow recovery.


    Summer ¨C Running tallies of cases are no longer tracked by the WHO, CDC, and other organizations. Spikes in transformation rates appear random with peaks near one million a day worldwide. Websites for and by the animated emerge as a support system for those affected and their families. It is at this time that actors transformed release the first viral PSAs online. Videos from the animated on sites like Youtube, Instagram, and Twitter are among the first means of getting the message out that this isn''t a disease. In the lingering global unrest, several governments are overthrown or resign due to their handling of the initial chaos.


    American media coverage slowly shifts away from panic. Several high-ranking and famous persons are highlighted as animated. Religious and spiritual groups and figures address the transformations, with the majority urging calm optimism.


    Fall ¨C Most of the spring chaos has passed. Governments have dealt with processing and recategorizing those transformed. Many keep special lists of these people without their knowledge. Supply chains have been damaged by the protracted crisis. The health care system begins to recover from the influx of animated who were brought in by family members. The stated policy becomes to bring a recently-transformed or transforming person to a hospital or doctor only if they have signs of serious health issues or are undergoing a non-human transformation.


    Most schools begin their fall session. Laws are passed in many countries which reinforce that those transformed have the same rights as before their transformation. These include employment protections. The rate of transformation averages 600,000 a day. The global distribution is not even, with higher concentrations in the countries first affected. New entertainment programs either use or integrate those actors changed. Many programs go through changes. Online enclaves specifically for the animated continue to grow. The first Animated Lifestyle store opens in Brooklyn, New York.


    Winter to the Present ¨C Animation develops as a varied political issue ranging from rights advocacy to containment and reversal. The first credible scientific studies reaffirm the random nature of the phenomena but offer no cause. Companies and products claiming to be able to reverse animation are challenged in court. Several high-profile criminal cases involving the animated as both alleged perpetrators and victims are followed by the media.


    Hospital wards and clinics are set up to try to treat the animated more specifically. Cases to deny coverage to the animated go through the courts. Ultimately, evidence mounts that the animated are healthier than the average person. Some fringe groups emerge touting the benefits of contact with the animated. Animated-specific religious sects emerge.


    Some animated-only planned communities develop but are legally-challenged. Several enclaves of animated people emerge. Many films about or involving animated people are made. Some even win awards. New products are developed to deal with specific, animated needs.


    Present ¨C It is estimated between 450 and 500 million people have been transformed worldwide with roughly 15 million changed in the United States. Animated Lifestyle stores are in over 30 countries with 800 locations. Some estimate the entire world will be converted within twenty years. However, the daily rate has, in recent months, fallen to between 100,000 and 200,000 a day, suggesting to some that it may never catch up with the global population.


    ~~~~~~


    The Conversion Process


    Conversion always begins at the hand, usually on the back with no predisposition for whether it''s the person''s dominant hand. The conversion process usually involves a slow, spreading painting across the entire body of the person affected. The process can range from as little as two hours to typically not more than six. More complicated changes or those with contingent elements such as size, biology, or physical sex tend to be the longer ones. Those conversions which take place during sleep are usually the swiftest. The majority of conversions take place while the person is asleep. There are several documented kinds of conversion.


    The most common process is a slow painting which changes form and style as it spreads. Less common are changes that permeate in the body and shift their shape before their animation style but these are more common in atypical transformations. Rarely, a transformed person can become a changeling, which affords them the ability to alter their style, colors, and other aspects for either the next few hours following their change or for a longer period in some instances.


    Those undergoing the transformation tend to be usually calm but responsive. Extreme changes will more often be met with concern but not panic. An analgesic effect to the process is suspected but not understood. Mental alterations are rare and tend to be temporary where present.


    Fantasy-inspired forms are noted but none have supernatural or mystical abilities. The final size of the transformed can range from several inches tall (fae/fairy-inspired forms) to over ten feet tall. Scientists are still not sure how the mass and weight of those changed can be so drastically-altered but experiments with weighing the transformed as they are changing show there is indeed an unseen reduction or addition in mass.


    The fantasy-inspired changes are aesthetic by nature. Those with non-human ears besides or replacing their normal ears don''t receive a change in hearing aside from whether they are bigger ears or not. Animated eyes also have abilities comparable to before. However, while some report a reduction in eyesight, elderly transformed tend to have slightly-better eyesight.


    Fairy-form animated people have massive changes in biology, especially those who grow wings. These wings are also aesthetic due to the missing muscle anatomy to move them for flight. They are, for those below a certain mass, able to function similarly to a small hang glider. A small minority are left incapable of speech at the end of the transformation. For those with animal forms that would typically be biologically-incapable of speech, there are noted modifications to the internal anatomy to allow for the production of human sounds.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    Health and Medicine


    As noted, early reactions were to treat the changes like a contagious phenomenon in need of containment. Many of the transformed during the chaotic, initial periods were quarantined. Certain governments instituted makeshift facilities to isolate the changed from the "normals". While this period was largely just a few weeks, it has become an issue of human rights violations investigation since.


    The initial periods also involved several documented instances of experimentation on the changed. Certain doctors and governments treated those transformed like they were no longer human. The often-disturbing, impressionistic, or surreal appearances of some of those transformed early-on fostered this notion. Altered biology was explored with little regard given to the welfare of the patients. Since then, many of those involved in this testing have been imprisoned or removed from the medical profession. In some cases, doctors who once prodded strangely-animated people have since become animated themselves.


    Among the scrupulous medical studies, the first definitively resolved the issue of communicability. Many of the researchers involved went as far as to volunteer themselves to every type of exposure possible in the hopes of discovering the process. Even in these early studies, doctors found that those transformed were healthier than a sample of the general populace. The main issue in determining this was creating a consistent measure of what would be considered healthy. Because the internal biology could be visually-different in so many ways, the key to determine health came more from objective diagnostic tools. Ultrasounds, x-rays, and other kinds of tests more often revealed what couldn''t be determined by the eye.


    It was often found that the biological processes inside one transformed had been subtly-altered. If a person''s changed form gave them long hair then any efforts to modify it resulted in a rapid acceleration of hair growth to return to the previous state. Normal fatty deposits and cholesterol levels were much lower. New influxes of fat or sugars were often swiftly-purged from the system. In one case, a non-human animated person was witnessed as having rapidly consumed an entire, three-tier cake with no increase in weight or blood sugar levels without even digestive discomfort. This is not a constant among all of those transformed but greater tolerance of illness, as well as general good health, have shown to be the normal outcome for the vast majority of those transformed.


    Despite these findings, many insurances, under laws that allowed them to do so legally, dropped clients as soon as they transformed. Many court cases successfully challenged these outcomes and the cases eventually died off when proof of superior health among those transformed became available. Still, certain clinics and doctors began to refuse patients with "alterations to their physical medium". At the same time, doctors who attempt to focus on those patients who have been transformed have recently come to prominence. For those who had been through gender, size, and species changes, these doctors integrated aspects of veterinary study, psychoanalysis, and reproductive health into their services. These types of doctors, known as "Animated Specialists", are the fastest-growing current field of medicine but most practice without full credential approval and there are few even in major metropolitan areas.


    Traditional medical institutions have been slow to create a consensus about transformed biology and medical testing due to several still-outstanding studies.


    Mental health professionals have speculated about the forms which those transformed seem to take. Some recommend what is called "shaping" self-analysis. This means a person who hasn''t been transformed but worries they may take on an undesirable form, works through their psychological desires and feelings to mediate their subconscious and their conscious mind to shape the results of their possible transformation. Little study has been done aside from anecdotal claims as to whether this process helps achieve the results desired.


    The key problem is a lack of certainty regarding why an individual winds up with a particular form after their transformation. Medical study of the process itself finds a clear biological excitation of cells for those who have been put in diagnostic equipment while changing. Samples of cells from those animated have found to be particularly "lively" but not in a way suggesting out-of-control growth or cancerous malformation.


    Brain studies of those being changed often find altered levels of serotonin, dopamine, and other neurotransmitters but the results so far are inconsistent on whether the change has a calming effect. Those transformed, especially radically from their previous shapes, often have a relaxed attitude about what has happened to them. The minority who panic or have adverse reactions more often are shown to have elevated levels of the stress hormone, cortisol. Whether all these biochemical levels are due to the transformation directly or merely a side effect is still a matter of debate.


    The first, publicized death of an animated person occurred several weeks after the first case. The death occurred during sleep and was considered to be by natural causes, though medical examiners couldn''t determine any direct cause of death upon autopsy. This has since become typical for those death cases of the animated where the cause is not immediately self-evident (example ¨C an accident with lethal trauma, drowning, or suffocation). In particular, there is not a single case of cancer-related death or illness among those transformed. However, the death rate among the animated, while lower than the general population, is not significantly below-average.


    One peculiarity is that necrosis is slower on an animated corpse compared with a normal one. A recently-deceased animated person or non-human looks virtually-identical to a living one. Studies of the corpses of the animated deceased have found that they don''t so much decay in the normal way as "lose their color". Their tones become less bright and their lines seem to fade. For months, this process continues. The corpse may still hold a lingering "influence" for as long as six months, like a residual heat. They also acquire an indefinable scent completely unlike decayed flesh which some have compared to "melted paint". The oldest stored corpses certainly appear dead but more faded or wasted away in color and texture. This process seems to be consistent across all forms, whether human or non-human, that the transformed take.


    In those select cases of animated people who previously had a lethal or life-limiting illness, their illness has completely vanished so far as doctors can ascertain. These cases have been the focus of much press and been touted as a positive sign about the transformation process as a whole.


    The oldest case of conversion occurred to a man, aged ninety-eight, who took on the apparent form of a nine-year-old girl. She died in her sleep nine weeks after her change with no apparent cause. The youngest cases after birth range from a few weeks after with limited alterations to those still in the womb who don''t seem to have enough influence to alter their mothers. Those "born animated" have been of great interest to medical study.


    On the topic of what is called "influence" or "touch", a few things are known. It seems to build within someone as they are changing and doesn''t spread from them until the tail end of their change. It is at this point anything a transformed person touches takes on influence in their art style. For those who have finished their transformation, influence can be spread by any skin-to-object contact. Indirect contact doesn''t spread influence or enough influence to be seen. Prolonged physical skin-to-skin contact between a normal person and one transformed influences the normal person into the appearance of an animated, otherwise unaltered, in the style of the transformed one. For those whose change is radical or strange, the influence doesn''t seem to spread as far in other people and, when it does, it only makes small changes.


    Despite how long someone is held or touched by an animated individual, the influence will drain out within a second or two after contact is suspended. Studies have found that prolonged contact with an animated person''s influence has no statistical effect, positive or negative, on whether the other person transforms at any point in the more than two years of testing.


    The microbiology of animated individuals is identical to normal humans and can be cultivated as normal organisms once separate from the host. As well, waste products also retain their normal qualities when outside the body. These are among the few diagnostic tests which are consistent among normal humans and animated humans since tissue samples retain their animated qualities outside of the full, human organism.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Microorganisms of a virulent nature have been shown in studies to not grow as readily in animated tissues compared with a normal human tissue sample. The reasons for this difference are unknown.


    While there has been speculation that a changeling or animated person could shape their form to be almost-completely human, there have been no clear cases of reversion. However, some animated and changeling styles do look nearly-indistinguishable from normal human colors and textures.


    Organ donation has been banned from animated persons until recently due to the difficulty of adapting the inconsistent qualities of organs into a normal human body. Some recent medical studies involving organ recipients with no other options have been thus far inconclusive regarding whether animated organs are viable.


    Influence usually spreads in the manner noted below.


    Animated to Human - Faster spread than inanimate objects. Always spreads with skin-to-skin contact.


    Animated to Animated - No spread. Influence seems not to spread from one animated person to another. Or, if it does, there is no visual sign of it occurring.


    Animated to A Small Object (example - metallic beverage can) - Size of the object seems to weigh-heavily in how long the spread takes. It takes longer than a human spread but lingers slightly longer after the end of direct contact.


    Animated to Clothing - Almost as fast as human contact due to many points of skin contact. Because of the lingering influence staying with clothes in particular, likely due to the possibility of more prolonged contact, some stores instituted rules against animated persons trying on clothes. Recent rulings have since found these practices discriminatory and most have been since abolished.


    Animated to A Large Object (like a desk or table) - Beyond a certain size just below a proportion of mass to the animated person, the influence doesn''t spread or is too diffuse beyond the point of contact. This influence is often compared to a heat signature because of the contact marks that briefly linger.


    Animated to Massive Object (like a floor or wall or the ground) - Much the same effect as any large object. The only difference is if there is a small bit of rock on the ground as an animated person is walking barefoot or they touch the grass. Animals and plants seem to have a similar but less pronounced effect from prolonged influence verses humans.


    Animated to An Animal or Plant - Influence will readily spread to animals, such as pets. Held small dogs or cats, in particular, will temporarily take on the art style of their animated owners. As always, direct contact contributes to the most change (therefore holding a leash will only add influence to the leash). The same is true with plants as alluded to by barefoot grass contact. Animals much larger than the animated person will often have lesser effects or not change style at all (For example ¨C bears will not change style if you are animated and give them a bare bear hug. So, please do not attempt.)


    More Than One Animated to A Single Person or Object - Experiments have been done of simultaneous skin contact from more than one animated person to a normal human. Only the first contact seems to spread. Second contact doesn''t spread. In cases of simultaneous contact, no influence spreads to the person, or likely one animated person will touch briefly before the other and be the one whose influence spreads. This has led to a game sometimes played between animated and normal people where the animated ones will have a countdown and try to be the first to touch. The same rules seem to apply for objects or animals touched simultaneously. In short, only one source of influence can spread into an object or person at the same time.


    ~~~~~~~


    Entertainment and Culture


    In the short term after the first conversions, several animated programs and movies were canceled or withdrawn. Certain ones were even banned in the early panic. Art museums were either forcibly closed, firebombed/attacked, or shut down voluntarily. Most closures didn''t last more than a month. Similar, prolonged closures to public events and venues also resulted when it wasn''t known if the conversions were caused by a contagion.


    When animated programming returned, it did so with careful vetting not to present stereotypical characters in a common style people converted into, lest they open themselves up to legal troubles. It wasn''t until some months later that the possibility of using the converted as actors came to prominence. Several online videos in mock animated style opened this door. Many of the programs currently on TV which utilize live-action animation do so one of several ways. The most prevalent is to chroma key the animated actors into a manipulated background. This can sometimes present challenges depending on the dominant colors of the cast. Props are handled by the actors or someone off-camera in a similar style to holding them. While the live-acted animated programs have also led to animated plays and theater performances, they are considered lesser to other works. The first sector of the entertainment industry to embrace animated actors was the adult entertainment industry.


    Online entertainment rose swiftly because videos and photos by those animated in their various styles became items of collector interest for those dubbed friendly to the idea of becoming animated. These people were nicknamed "2B2D" (despite the fact styles of animation varied widely and weren''t traditionally flat or 2D).


    Some actors retired from acting when they animated, despite the fact interest in the converted from gossip magazines rose. It wasn''t until the first major push back from public figures and celebrities for recognition, that being animated became less of a stigma or something to hide. Since animation struck a wide variety of figures from all walks of life the same, pundit claims of connecting animation to deviant behavior were soon squashed (though non-mainstream claims continue despite all evidence to the contrary).


    Commercial advertisers were among the first early hires of converted people and actors to feature in their ads because of their unique visual style (particularly when it complimented their products). Animated spokespersons have become more common than human ones.


    Many books have been published in almost every genre regarding the animated. Among the more popular fiction works is a retelling of Romeo and Juliet with an animated and non-animated coupling. The more prevalent books are in the New Age genre, dealing with spiritual speculations regarding the meaning and origin of the global phenomena. The most common postulations involve deification of the converted as being closer to the divine. Pantheistic interpretations figure on an essence influencing the human race towards some unknown destiny of enlightenment.


    Otherwise, literature has been slow to respond to the events. Current event books and other genres have dealt with cases and speculations of causality but no credible books have been published which have been able to ascribe meaning to the events and changes. Several specialty magazines catering to 2B2D fans, converted lifestyles, and those who feel unfavorably towards the animated are popular. Many fashion magazines have adopted sections dealing with the fashion interests of the animated as well as what styles and colors will go with predominant schemes and tones. Makeup brands and related products have exploded, focusing on both downplaying and emphasizing animated aspects.


    In sports, there have been several cases of athletes either banned, traded, or let go due to transformation. Typically, the reasons have been because of a change to the athlete''s species, physical sex, or body type. Many of these cases have gone to court and some are still pending. Some say that animated athletes have a natural, unfair advantage due to their altered biology, which imbues them with better health and a greater ability to recover from common injuries. Some clubs took note of these attributes and hired animated athletes at a greater rate. There are occasional cases of athletes animated in a different gender who have attempted to stay on with their clubs. In one notable case often cited by the press, a man competing in horse jumping later competed as the horse after his change (without a rider).


    Suicide rates spiked in the first, chaotic month after the first changes. Cases of animated suicide are often rare but are typically attributed to factors aside from their conversion. They are similarly low among those who have noted the early signs of conversion. Suicide in the general populace has spiked several times, especially during heavy clusters of conversion in a given area. Still, the rates have, at the peak, doubled from the time before conversions.


    The stigma for influence spreading has waned due to public portrayals of it. Still, several sports have recent rules that an animated person must not keep hold of an object, like a ball, with the intent of using the confusion of influence to their advantage. This led to penalties for a basketball player who would psych out the opposition by holding onto a ball before passing and keep it shielded in his unique art style. For wrestling, such rules have been impossible to implement and would be unfair for animated competitors. Therefore, the training for non-animated wrestlers going up against animated ones has been influence adaptation so it doesn''t surprise them. Many athletes claim influence flooding has both a calming and healing effect without promoting conversion.


    ~~~~~~~


    Crime and Law Enforcement


    In the early days of conversions, there were cases of those converted who took advantage of the chaotic situation for acts of crime and violence.


    As well, there were criminal networks who exploited the converted in various ways due to the loss of their identity as both potential, anonymous assets and employees. Some arrested hitmen were found to be rare types of changelings.


    However, law enforcement was quick to come up with new systems of identification based on a variety of factors. Animated drivers found with old licenses were originally stopped and fined. But as they became more prevalent with the system backlog, most were just given notices to renew their licenses. Fingerprinting systems were oftentimes thrown out within many jurisdictions because some animated citizens didn''t possess fingerprints or even fingers.


    The system most often in use employs a variety of factors in identification. First are visual features. For those rare few who are called "faceless" because their style is either without distinguishing feature or they have no face, proportions and shapes are logged. Some studies have found that line textures on certain parts of the animated body might be consistent to a certain individual in the same ways as the lines on their hands and fingers once were. However, the tools to resolve line qualities with great accuracy are still being developed. Changelings also present a problem for law enforcement but those who have been noted to have more than one physical form must register it as part of their legal identification.


    After visual features, law enforcement will take eye qualities into account. While there have been a certain percentage of animated persons who have an "identical twin" in their style due to reasons unknown, eyes have shown to always possess some unique size or proportion which marks an individual animated person. Beyond these aspects, hand qualities are sometimes kept on record even if normal fingerprints do not show on current equipment. Blood testing has not yet advanced to the point it can match DNA of an animated person to a sample but efforts are underway.


    On the whole, criminal activity among animated persons has been claimed and somewhat proven to be lower than the general population. Crimes against animated persons recently received qualification to be considered hate crimes in certain regions and countries, depending on circumstances. Crimes which are recorded as such spiked about a year ago but have recently begun to decline. While there are a few specific serial killers and criminals often noted by the media, their number is vastly exceeded by non-animated ones.


    While there have been efforts to prove that those with so-called "thuggish" animated appearances are more typically criminals, it has been on par with historical, failed efforts of phrenology.


    ~~~~~~~


    Miscellaneous


    While there has been speculation that whatever influence that comes from animated people stays in the environment, there have been as yet no cases of conversion to non-humans, inanimate objects, or other mediums.


    The size of the transformed can vary wildly on the small size from those the size of fairies, existing several times smaller than their previous dimensions with a fully-functioning biology and those who are many times larger than they were before. While it is speculated and feared there is no upper limit to changes which increase a subject''s size, there have thus far been no changes which have made an animated person taller than about ten feet. Whether this is a limitation of the energy or some other, biological factor is unknown. Another question is where does missing mass in shrinking cases go and where does new mass in the opposite cases come from. Explanations have ranged from pseudo-scientific ideas of an akashic or ethereal parallel plane of reality to which the matter emerges and leaves (and where the energy for influence and transformation itself comes from) to questions of whether virtual particles and unknown quantum states might be involved. What is clear is that weight and mass are lost and gained in the system.


    While a general accounting of the demographics and predominant styles of the animated is still ongoing, there are a multitude of animation styles represented.


    * Large eyes, small lined mouth with bright colors as often employed in Japanese animation and manga of various styles either subtle or exaggerated.


    * Caricatures ranging from the appearance of sketching and ''hand'' coloration to a sharp, flat tone.


    * Soft or detailed watercolor.


    * Traditional "comic book" style in a range of apparent mediums and textures. Some are reminiscent of the work of a particular artist while others have no known equivalent.


    * Line art, those whose colors are not present or are variable. Line art can be thick or ghostly-thin.


    * So-called digital style as seen in art-making programs. Typically, this style arises in those who are an artist familiar with the use of digital art programs. A myriad of sub-styles range from digital-painterly to what appears similar to flash art.


    * Rendered art which has the feeling of CGI or a polygon, textured humanoid more than the other styles.


    * Historically-noted artistic styles. These tend to fall under those who enjoy or are aware of them but any art style in history can be represented from surrealism to impressionism along with pointillism to the appearance of oil painting. Graffiti and stick figure art styles have also been noted.


    (It should be noted that all can occur in human and non-human varieties and this is just a small sample of the more widely recognized animated styles of human).


    ~Varieties of Changelings~


    Changelings may make up between five and ten percent of the animated population (between 20 and 50 million worldwide thus far), depending on attempted demographic accounts.


    The most common variety will be fluid in form for a short time at the end of their initial animation. During this time, they will be able to pick a different physical form which can vary widely from their form so far or previously. Changelings who shift a lot during this time often experience side effects ranging from discomfort and confusion to physical pain. In interviews, the majority of these types of changelings feel they shifted due to indecision and worry about their final appearance. At the end of their animation period, these changelings are locked into the final form they choose permanently.


    Less common are changelings who can change even after their animation period. Studies of them fall into several varieties. For most, they have at least one extra form which they shift to involuntarily. The triggers for the form shifts can vary from external factors such as the weather or who they''re with, to internal moods or biochemistry. Involuntary changelings typically occur in subjects with abnormal psychology or multiple personalities but have been seen in otherwise normal, animated persons. The greatest number of forms recorded in an involuntary case is sixteen although anecdotal stories cite unconfirmed reports of hundreds of forms.


    Rarer changelings are voluntary ones who have degrees of control over their form. The lowest degree of voluntary changeling can focus and choose different attributes such as eye and hair color. Above them, are changelings who can switch their art style. Above them, are a small but well-known group of changelings who can even change their physical sex. At this level, it is thought that this variety of changeling is quite rare, with about ten thousand estimated.


    Of these ten thousand, it is believed that most have the capability for a vast variety of changes depending on their level of control. It is also possible some changelings don''t know they are changelings because they haven''t tried to change. Of the changelings with the capability to change their forms, less than one hundred have been documented who can readily use their abilities. No known changeling can change their species.


    While it isn''t known why some are changelings, certain groups speculate that changelings are closer to the supposed source of the animation of people worldwide and regard them as enlightened. Although many deny it, it is clear that law enforcement and governments worldwide keep close tabs on the behavior of all known, high-level changelings.