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Old 05-10-2007, 06:07 PM
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Default Morphic (PG-13, possibly offensive to some)

Hi, and welcome to my latest piece of Pokémon fanfiction I'm attempting to juggle with The Quest for the Legends, Morphic. It comes with a warning: it contains lots and lots of political references. They are not here to make a statement; they are humourous and meant to reflect some of the extremes of reality without preaching my opinion on anything. However, some people may still take offense to it and I suppose I can understand that. I apologize in advance if you are one of them and advise you to keep this in mind as you read or not read at all if you don't want to read something that involves touchy subjects. I just ask that you please, please, whatever else you may want to say, do not turn this thread into a debate about those issues. I repeat that I am not trying to make a statement with this. It's just a story whose world tries to imitate reality, all right?

The PG-13 is for swearing and as I don't consider language alone worthy of making it an R, I will not do so, although technically the MPAA would perhaps call it R-worthy if just for the number of four-letter words. In any case you have been warned.

Chapter 1

Calm down now. Be cool.

A dark-haired man in his thirties straightened his tie nervously in front of a large mirror. He ran his eyes yet again quickly up and down his reflection. His posture looked far too timid for such an important debate. He took a deep breath and tried to straighten himself, pushed the glasses a little further up on his nose and silently cursed himself for having shown up with them – they were too big and looked too dorky. Too stereotypical. He wished he’d gotten used to contacts sometime.

“Mr. Edwards, five minutes.”

He nodded, seeing in the mirror as a short member of the TV crew stepped out of the room. He was alone now.

“Damn it,” he swore under his breath, briefly taking his glasses off just to see how he looked. He depressingly assured himself that the blurry flesh-colored blob he could see in front of him definitely looked much better now than with the glasses on. Damn it all. Tomorrow he’d get himself some contacts and use them, no matter what. Who knew when he’d next have to appear on TV?

Why couldn’t they just have sent Dave? he thought to himself. I’m terrible with words. He could convince that audience that black is white if he wanted.

It was a rhetorical question, of course. Dave and his girlfriend were now at some fancy restaurant celebrating their anniversary. He had been practically begged to go; Dave had given him a long speech about what his relationship meant to him. And in some moment of pity, he had agreed to it, figuring it would perhaps, maybe, if he looked optimistically at it, not be quite as bad as it sounded. Damn it all. It was even worse.

“Mr. Edwards?”

“Yes. I’m coming.”

He took one last look at himself in the mirror – there were so many things that were still wrong! – but dragged himself through the door. A member of the TV crew ushered him into a chair. He felt his palms sweating at the sight of all the cameras; he quickly turned to his opponent in the chair opposite him. It was a well-built woman with long, black hair who would have been attractive if only her thick-rimmed purple glasses had been a little less extravagant and her expression not so awfully stern. She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes with the utmost contempt of one with the firm conviction that he could certainly be no less than a personal messenger of the devil. He shifted in his chair. She was no more comfortable to look at than the cameras. He desperately looked around for anything else to focus his attention on. With relief, he saw the host, a casual, stylishly-dressed man, come hurrying over to sit in a third chair and put up a shamelessly fake television smile.

“Good evening, and welcome to Friday Night with James Sullivan!” the host said suddenly, indicating that they were on air. “As most of you will already know, there has been much recent controversy around a team of scientists working for Heywood Labs! According to their spokesman and leader, David Ambrose, the group actually managed to create ‘Pokémorphs’, fetuses with spliced human and Pokémon DNA, which appear to be growing normally. In particular, the controversy is about this statement you will see here!”

A television screen behind them showed Dave, standing on the steps in front of the lab with a crowd of photographers below him: “Look,” he said irritably, “we have absolutely no plans to actually raise those things. We just wanted to see if it was possible, and okay, it is. We’re just going to watch them grow for a week or two to see how they’re developing and then destroy them. There will be no ‘freak children’ or ‘Pokémorph minority’. It’s no big deal. End of discussion.”

The screen turned off and James the host immediately began reading from the cue screens again: “As it turned out, it was quite the opposite: this comment, at least to a large and loud portion of the world’s population, was a very big deal and began a heated discussion that we will see the pleasure of continuing tonight, live on this very show! Please welcome Hannah Mariani, spokesperson for the Stop Abortion Movement –” the woman nodded curtly towards the camera “– and Brian Edwards, one of the scientists involved.”

Brian quickly realized he wasn’t supposed to be staring wildly at the show host and jerked his head towards the camera, giving it a nervous smile.

“So, Brian, why don’t you start?”

“Me?” slipped out of him before he could stop himself. “Oh, well… you see…”

He tried desperately to remember what he had been planning to say, flicking his gaze at his calm-faced opponent. Oh, yes, now he remembered. He cleared his throat loudly.

“Look,” he said, failing miserably at removing the nervousness from his voice, “if these children – if they ever became children – what – I mean, would you really send a child like that to a public school? They’d get bullied for sure. These children would lead perfectly miserable lives – if they ever were to become children, that is, because they certainly aren’t now…”

“I assume, then,” Hannah said coolly, “that you are of the opinion that fat children with glasses ought to be systematically murdered because they’ll probably be bullied at school?”

She looked at him with stinging blue eyes and Brian realized with dread that she had done her research: although it was impossible to tell now, he had been overweight as a kid and of course he had worn glasses.

Damn it. Why did she look so creepily calm?

“It’s… it’s not the same,” he said quickly. “They can’t feel anything. They don’t ‘want’ to live. It’s…”

“They will,” Hannah just said.

“That… that isn’t relevant,” he stuttered, trying to remember what Dave had been telling him to say in this kind of situation.

“Well, since you seem so eager to speak,” James said brightly, “why don’t you tell us your position, Hannah?”

“As I see it,” she said simply, “the case is dead already. It is even more dead than the general debate for or against abortion. What do those in favor always say? ‘What about rape?’ ‘What about what the sexually liberal call “accidents”?’ ‘What about if the child turns out to be seriously disabled and the parents wouldn’t be able to handle it?’ We don’t even need to complicate the matter with those here. This is not rape. It’s not an accident. Nothing is ‘turning out’ to be anything it wasn’t obviously to begin with. These men –” she pointed an accusing finger at Brian “– perfectly deliberately created children with perfectly deliberate qualities that could cause them problems in the future. You, Mr. Edwards, need to realize that if they get bullied, it is your fault. You have no excuse whatsoever.”

Brian stared at her, dumbfounded. “Why are you always calling them children?” he muttered, only half-convinced, while trying to think of something else to say.

“Because that is what they are,” she said shortly.

Brian took a deep breath, thinking of what the others had been talking to him about. “Okay, look. If we didn’t destroy the fetuses, who would raise them?”

She gave him an odd look, raising an eyebrow. “You, of course,” she said. “They’re your children which you created by your own free will. I haven’t known anybody who deliberately decided to have a child and then expected someone else to raise it.”

He stared at her, the implications of this zooming through his head. “What? Us? But… what are you talking about, anyway?” he asked heatedly. “We didn’t deliberately create children. We deliberately created fetuses we intended to destroy. We weren’t planning to raise…”

“Well, you should have thought about that before creating them, shouldn’t you?” Hannah remarked coldly.

There was some great way to respond to this, he was sure, and Dave would have said it in the blink of an eye, but his mind was being too numb and panicky at the moment to think of anything.

“It… it seemed like a much better idea at the time,” he said stupidly. “We’d had a little to drink that night since it was Dave’s birthday – he always gets weird ideas when he’s drunk – and it was just so obvious, I mean, look at all those book series – and after getting the idea and figuring out how it was possible in the party, we just figured the next day, hey, why not…” What the hell was he saying?

Hannah gave him a disgusted frown and looked at the camera. “Drunk scientists who want to imitate bestseller book series in some sad attempt to get attention make genetic experiments with unborn human children, and now, to top it all, they’re going to be murdering them. Clearly this is only another example of the godlessness of some of the men we call intellectuals today. We cannot let them do this.”



Damn it.

Damn it all.

******* hell.

Brian shivered as he started his car. In the rear-view mirror, he could see that he was pale and sweaty. And his glasses still looked so damn stupid. He had failed so miserably it wasn’t funny. The public against them once and for all in one fell swoop. Why the hell had he been mentioning that they’d been drunk?

Those thoughts kept cycling through his head on the long journey to his house.

His cellphone started vibrating in his pocket just as he was pulling into the driveway. He slapped his hand over his face momentarily in some abstract hope that it would just stop ringing. It didn’t.

He fished the phone out of his pocket, opened it and held it shakily to his ear. “Yes?”

“Well, now you’ve gone and done it.”

Brian sighed heavily. “I told you, Dave. I suck at this kind of thing. You really should’ve…”

“I had no idea you sucked that much! I persuaded Jane to agree to go home a little early from the restaurant so we could watch you on the one-hour belated channel – I felt embarrassed for even knowing you!” the voice on the other end of the phone shouted angrily. There was a sigh followed by silence. “You’ve really ****** us up, Brian.”

“I know,” Brian said miserably. “She was just making so much sense and being so calm that I just…”

“Making sense?” the phone shouted at him. “She was making exactly no sense at all! You didn’t even say half of the stuff we talked about! And for Christ’s sake – well, not his, specifically, but you know what I mean – babbling on about how I have weird ideas when I’m drunk? What the ****?”

“I don’t know,” Brian replied desperately. “I just… maybe she was right. I mean, it seems kinda cruel to create them at all if… maybe we should raise them…”

“Right? Right?” Dave repeated. “Of course there’s not much at stake for you here, since you’re single, but those of us whose home has a breast to spare – do you really expect Joe to go home to his kids and tell them, ‘Hey, guys, you’re going to have a brother and he’s a freak!’? And me, personally, I like my private time with Jane. Kids would really ruin that, especially freak kids. Maybe they’ll even be peeing all over the place to mark their territory or something! There’s no way we can abort them after that went on air. There’s no way we’re getting any financial support now unless we raise those kids. You seriously ****** us up, man. Remind me never to make you represent us again.”

“I know,” Brian muttered, but Dave had already hung up on the other end of the line. He sighed and closed the cellphone, pushing it back into his pocket. He stayed in the car for a few more minutes, staring at the garage door between burying his face in his hands. He had really messed things up. The others would never forgive him, ever.

Not much to do about that now.

He exited the car and thought for a moment before turning his cellphone off. Then he went in, made himself some instant noodles and went to bed.

The next day, Heywood Labs issued a public statement to apologize for their previous plans and state that the scientists involved would in fact themselves raise the Pokémorph children to the best of their ability.

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Old 05-11-2007, 12:52 AM
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Default Re: Morphic (PG-13, possibly offensive to some) of our many guilty pleasures. :O

Very intelligent, and a good read--it's very crisp and has a realistic edge to it, which I always like. Not to mention that I've always followed the politics of abortion and other volatile issues with great interest, so I may become a constant reader of this. Hope this works out for you as a continuous story.

A long time ago,
Mew was nailed to a cross.
The price of her blood
was thirty silver coins...
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Old 05-21-2007, 01:18 AM
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Default Re: Morphic (PG-13, possibly offensive to some)

Thanks. I do hope it works out; I've got quite a bit planned and even if it doesn't work out now I'll definitely pick it back up sometime. It's too fun a concept. ;)

All right, chapter two already. I was planning to actually introduce the morphs themselves years later in the second chapter, but then I realized that I kind of needed this chapter in between.

Chapter 2

“All right, guys and gals… I hope you all have at least some idea of what’s going on here, but for the sake of any spouses who haven’t been paying attention, I’ll still go into the nitty-gritty details.”

Dave looked over the table. He was sitting by the short side with his (beautiful as always) girlfriend Jane on his right side. The other nine were seated by the long sides, looking at him. He pressed a few keys on the laptop in front of him and turned the ceiling projector on by pressing a button on the remote.

“Well, as you almost definitely know, we decided a couple of months ago to attempt to create ‘Pokémorphs’, which means, in the unlikely case you haven’t read all that pseudoscientific crap like ‘The Life of a Morph’ or the ‘Sarah Hooter’ series, a human being spliced with a Pokémon to create… well, something like this.”

He pressed a key on his laptop. On the smooth, white wall behind him appeared the cover illustration of ‘Sarah Hooter and the Rocket Experiment’: a sexy teenage girl with Vulpix ears, a tuft of red hair that organized itself into unnaturally orderly curls on the top of her head, and six curly, reddish-brown tails fanning out behind her as she struck a pose. A couple of people snickered.

“Ridiculous, isn’t it? Well, it’s possible. We proved that here at Heywood Labs – of course the whole thing with Team Rocket suddenly turning an ordinary girl into half a Vulpix is bullshit and the real method is a lot different, but the end result is the same. We even specifically created a Vulpix morph who is likely to look very similar to Sarah Hooter here when she grows up. Of course,” he added with emphasis, “we never intended for her ever to grow up. She’ll be made fun of like all hell at school. But outside pressure and… some inside goofs have forced us to raise the Pokémorphs, and that’s why we’re here. We are all responsible, and thus we need to fairly distribute the morphs between us for rearing. Any questions?”

Apparently not.

“Good. Well, in the past weeks we have observed that the fetuses, which are currently growing in an artificial uterus in the lab, are developing at slightly different speeds, usually a little abnormal for humans. This was to be expected, as Pokémon grow a lot faster than humans, but it is different for each one how much influence the Pokémon is having and of course exactly how fast the Pokémon grows. We have also seen how they appear to be turning out and compared it with what we were going for when we created that morph to give the best idea possible of what you’ll be getting yourselves into if you adopt each one. Any questions now?”

“Actually, yes.”

It was Cheryl Jones, a woman in her thirties that Howard, a research assistant for Heywood Labs, had been seeing recently. She had also, according to Howard, always been passionately interested in the Pokémorph project. She was one of those intelligent blondes who wore glasses, liked to protest and did volunteer jobs.

“If the Pokémorphs are developing at abnormal speeds now, does that necessarily mean they keep developing like that after they’re born?”

“We’ve been able to calculate fairly well how fast they’ll age after birth and that’s what we’ll be telling you,” Dave replied. “We compare how fast the fetus is growing with the normal fetus growth speed of humans and that Pokémon, and then assume their Pokémon half will influence their later growth to about the same extent. It may not be entirely accurate, but it should be accurate enough.”

Cheryl nodded and Dave scanned the room for any signs that somebody else had a question.

“Okay, let’s just get right to it, then,” he sighed and pressed a key on his laptop to go to the next slide; Sarah Hooter disappeared from the wall and was replaced by information about the first morph to be discussed.

“First up, Meowth morph. Male. It is presumed that he’ll be around twelve years old physically at ten human years of age. We’re not sure exactly how much we influenced any instincts or what, but be warned that at worst he’ll be marking his territory around the house by the time he’s a teenager and you’ll be morally restricted from getting him neutered.”

A few of them laughed.

“I meant that,” Dave said. “His appearance should be mostly human; it’s mainly the head. He’ll probably have fangs, and we’re beginning to see the development of Meowth ears and tail… and although it hasn’t started appearing yet in the fetus, he’ll almost definitely have whiskers and a gold charm on his forehead like we planned. I won’t guarantee he’s not going to be any cattier than that, though, since sometimes it’s a bit shady how those genes end up influencing one another. Any volunteers to take him?”

There was silence as the researchers looked nervously at one another. He saw Joe McKenzie’s wife Pamela, a plump woman with curly brown hair, whisper something in his ear and he whispered something back. They waited for a few moments.

“Okay, we’ll take him,” Joe said finally.

“Great,” Dave said, writing it down. “It’s probably a good thing, since you’ve raised two kids already. If anybody can toilet train him, it’s you.”

Another round of nervous laughter. Joe nervously wiped his glasses with his sleeve and put them back on.

“Right,” Dave sighed. “Now… that lovely Sarah Hooter-clone I mentioned. Damn, I must have been on crack when I thought of that.”

Nobody said anything.

“Oh, yeah, forgot the details. Well, it’s a female Vulpix morph, obviously, and basically she’ll look almost exactly like that Sarah Hooter picture I showed you,” he put that slide back up, “except I can’t guarantee she’ll look that hot. And I don’t know if her hair will really curl like that. Like the Meowth, she’ll be around twelve physically in ten years.”

Jane leant in at him. “Maybe we should take her, honey.”

He turned around. “Why?”

She shrugged, and Dave was momentarily captivated by the smooth movement of her wavy, red hair. “I always liked those books as a kid, and at least she’s mixed with a cute Pokémon. We’ll have to take one, won’t we? At least it’s better than some of the others you’ve been telling me about.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Dave replied and kissed her before writing that down. Man, he’d do anything for that woman, even if she read stuff like Sarah Hooter.

“Two down, six to go,” he said. “Okay, this is one of the really fast-growing ones. Scyther morph, female. Likely to be physically around sixteen in ten years. Don’t worry; she won’t be a cripple with no hands who murders people every time she waves her arms. Her hands are already beginning to develop, but sometime after birth, the bone in her forearms will grow out of her skin in a sharp blade going from her wrist to her elbow which then transforms to be metallic if how the process works in actual Scyther is any indication. We don’t know how far out it will go exactly, but I think it’s safe to say you shouldn’t hug her too much. She may have fangs and will almost certainly have wings, although she’d be way too heavy to actually fly on them. Her legs also look very weird right now, although I don’t know what will become of them later, since this wasn’t really planned. Any takers?”

“Let’s take her, Howard,” Cheryl said almost immediately. “I’ve always liked Scyther.”

The slightly chubby, dark-haired man beside her winced. “Eh… are you sure we…”

“Oh, come on,” she said and smiled. “We’ll be fine.”

“Anybody want to argue with that? No? Good. Then she’s yours.”

Howard still looked a little skeptical, but shrugged. “Well, nobody will be able to say I had an uninteresting life.”

“Next up, Taillow morph,” Dave said. “It’s a male. Growing just a little faster than a human, might end up maybe one year ahead for every ten human years…”

“One other question,” Cheryl interrupted. “Kids grow up at different speeds, start puberty at different ages and stuff like that, so…”

“This is just an approximation,” Dave answered in the middle of her sentence. “The odds little Taillow guy here will have started puberty at ten will be the same as the odds of a normal boy having started puberty at eleven. That’s all it means. Can I continue now?”

She nodded.

“Great. Well, I think this is the most human morph of them all. It’s pretty much just that he might grow feathers instead of hair in some places, and he’ll have a pair of wings too small to carry him, unless we missed something. We realized when we were making them that it would be too difficult to give him a beak as we were first planning. Of course I can’t say anything about behavioral effects.”

Daniel, a blond-haired man with glasses who Dave knew was the husband of lab researcher Martha Harrison, suddenly raised his hand. “Wait. Are they going to be like… able to use Pokémon attacks?”

Dave sighed. “Maybe. If at all, then only to a very limited extent. I think I could make out a fire sac beginning to form in the Vulpix, so I’m getting my hopes up that she’ll at least be able to use Ember and stuff like that. For the others, I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. Of course some things are just a given – everybody can tackle.”

“What about the Pokémon language? Will they speak it?”

“No idea. Can I continue?”

Daniel sighed disappointedly and nodded.

“Where was I…” Dave muttered, going over the points on the slide that was up. “Right. Yeah, he’s the most human of the bunch, but I can’t promise you he won’t demand a bowl of earthworms for breakfast every morning or something. Who wants him?”

Daniel shrugged, twisting a lock of his wife’s curly black hair between his fingers. “Didn’t you say you were mostly handling that one, Martha? Maybe we can take the kid…”

“Sure,” she replied and smiled. “Unless somebody else wants him…?”

Most people just shrugged. Nobody protested, even though Dave could tell some of them would have wanted that boy. He had been kind of hoping for him himself, but if Jane wanted the Vulpix, that was it.

“All right, then,” Dave said and wrote that down before switching slides. “So… Chinchou morph. Male. He’ll be physically around thirteen after ten human years. The most noteworthy unhuman thing about him is that he’s blue, and he’s got those anglerfish antennae starting to develop too. His hands and feet are a little odd and may end up kind of halfway between fins and digits or something, I don’t know. As in webbed with weak fingers. Otherwise he’s pretty humanlike – he hasn’t got Chinchou eyes or anything. Volunteers?”

“We’ll take him,” Bill Ray said. He had shoulder-length black hair and was sitting at the far end of the table with his red-haired fiancée Sharon. From the sound of it they had decided on the Chinchou together before they had come there. At twenty-five, Bill was the youngest person working in the lab, two years younger than Dave himself. Dave had always liked the guy, but couldn’t help being a little surprised that he’d picked the Chinchou of all things. He’d thought Bill would be more of a Scyther person.

“Well, okay,” Dave just said and wrote that down. “Now… after this there’s a Pokémorph assigned to every home except Brian’s, correct? Well, he can’t breastfeed, so now some of you – us, I mean – will have to take another one. Only do it if you think you can handle two freak kids in your home in addition to whatever you might have already, okay?”

Nobody spoke.

“All right. Only three morphs left. Next,” he pressed a key on his laptop to go to the next slide, “the only one who’s actually growing slower than an ordinary human. Only take her if you really like young children, because she’s going to be one for a while. Misdreavus morph, female, will probably grow at only about 80% the speed of a normal human after birth. She’s unnaturally pitch-black – as in much blacker than an ordinary black person – but otherwise the fetus looks, well, entirely human at this stage, aside from growing slowly. She is going to have creepy hair and eyes when she grows up and will probably do some ghostly ****, though.” He looked between the couples around the table. Cheryl looked excitedly at Howard.

“Well, we already took the Scyther,” he said and sighed. “Won’t get a lot more messed-up than that. We’ll take her.”

Cheryl leant in and kissed him. Howard seemed thoroughly puzzled at himself, but didn’t say anything to indicate a change of mind, so Dave shrugged and wrote it down.

“Okay, great. Two left, and then we can all go home.” He switched slides. “Roselia morph. Female. She’s the fastest-growing of the bunch; she’ll be physically around seventeen when she’s ten. She is a little problematic, because we actually got stupid enough to give her roses instead of hands.”

“Oh, dear,” he heard Daniel Harrison mutter.

“Then she seems to grow faster in sunlight. That’s pretty much it about her, although she may turn out to have some other Roselia or generally flowery traits in the end. She does grow rather ridiculously fast, though. Don’t know what they’ll do with her at school, although that applies to the Scyther as well. Who’s up for it?”

“Let’s take her, Daniel,” Martha said to her husband. “I was largely in making her, too. The Taillow boy probably won’t be too hard to deal with.”

“But we do have Sarah…” Daniel muttered. Sarah was their baby daughter.

“The Roselia girl is going to grow fast. She’ll be an adult in no time at all. We’re both parents and breeders, so we’re the best-equipped here. Dave and Jane and Bill and Sharon are so young and have never raised kids before. They shouldn’t need to have two Pokémorphs to worry about. And the McKenzies have two kids to deal with in addition to their morph.”

Her husband finally agreed to it, and then that was settled. Dave breathed in relief to himself; he had been worrying that he and Jane would have to take another one.

“Well,” he said. “The last one. The Slugma boy. The bad part is that he’s pretty much a total failure; it’s lucky – or unlucky, depending on how you look at it – that he’s survived at all to this point. For one thing, his skin is looking to be liquid – as in some kind of thick ooze. This ooze appears to slowly harden at room temperature, which would make him immobile unless his skin is rubbed or heated or something. In addition to that, his blood is far too hot, so he’s really just begging for some sort of organ failure at some point. The organs do seem to be developing some resistance to it, and we’ll have to hope that’s enough. Oh, and we had to take him out of the artificial uterus and put him in a heated glass cage. Somehow he’s already self-sustaining, although if something attacked him at this stage he’d obviously be completely helpless. We don’t even know if we should consider him already born or what, and we have no idea how his physical age is going to change. Basically we’ve got some sort of a human blob and we have no idea what is going to happen to it next.”

The spouses stared at him in horror.

“Yeah, his life is going to suck,” he agreed. “If for any reason you are ever going to try to mix a human being with a blob of lava in the future, don’t. But regardless, we can’t kill him, so somebody needs to take care of him if he survives.”

Nobody volunteered. Dave took a deep breath. He hadn’t expected anybody to.

“I think Brian should take him.”

The man to his left stared at him. “What? Me? But…”

“This is the only one that’s not actually a mammal and won’t need to be breastfed,” Dave said, sighing. “Look, Brian, you were the one who messed up the talk show. It would be very unfair if you could avoid raising one of the stupid things just because you’re single. No easily accessible breast milk? This one doesn’t need any. From what I’ve heard about Slugma, they eat nothing but rocks throughout their lives. Feeding him sand has worked for a couple of months, so that appears to be it. You can raise him.”

Brian looked wildly around for some supporters, but found only the others’ looks of pity. Of course they wouldn’t switch with him if they were paid for it.

“Fine,” he sighed hopelessly and sank back in his chair.

“All settled, then,” Dave said, closing his laptop and turning the projector off. He had assigned the Slugma kid to Brian before they had even sat down at the meeting.

“Vulpix morph,” he muttered to himself. “This will be interesting.”

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Old 05-21-2007, 06:22 AM
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Default Re: Morphic (PG-13, possibly offensive to some)

That Slugma unborn-fetus just makes me cringe....but the imagery is so horrific, it's great. Very nicely done with the realistic aspect, and I'm already wondering how the Roselia morph will do without hands or thumbs.

Poor Brian...but he kind of deserved it. :P

A long time ago,
Mew was nailed to a cross.
The price of her blood
was thirty silver coins...
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Old 05-21-2007, 02:28 PM
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Default Re: Morphic (PG-13, possibly offensive to some)

Man... how intense. The poor Slugma boy...

This is good. I'm looking forward to the next chapters.

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Old 05-22-2007, 02:55 AM
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Default Re: Morphic (PG-13, possibly offensive to some)

Wow, sincerely, the best Pokemorph fic I have read in a long time. Realistic, well written, and not rushed. You're setting youself a very good pace here, keep it up.

These morphs will be interesting, I especially want to see the Roselia and the Misdreveus one. The others sound cool while the Slugma one makes me cringe. How will Brian deal? XD

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Old 05-30-2007, 12:53 AM
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Default Re: Morphic (PG-13, possibly offensive to some)

Readers of The Quest for the Legends probably feel like murdering me right now for churning out chapters of this instead of writing chapter 35 of that, but hey, I can't control inspiration...

There are parts I like and don't like about this chapter, but the ones I like I really like. I ended up not skipping ten years into the future right away after all (but that will happen in chapter four). As always, I'd appreciate any input on possible edits, etc.

Chapter 3

“I can’t stand this, Dave!” Jane said desperately. Her smooth face was tearstruck and her beautiful blue eyes were red and puffy. “I hate that freak!”

“Please, Jane, be reasonable…” Dave began in the most soothing voice he could manage, but was cut off.

“Reasonable! It’s all you think about, isn’t it?” She sniffed. “Your precious science and career! Keeping a journal of every little thing that little ***** does! You write happily about how she’s teething, and meanwhile I’m getting hormone injections every day and her fangs are digging into my nipples, just because you still insist on her being fed ‘naturally’ for your stupid research! Everything was so much better before the freak came along and we could spend our time together without the stupid howls waking us up at night!”

“I’d do anything for you, Jane!” Dave pleaded, trying to approach her. “Just please, don’t drop her…”

“You’re too caught up in your job now to do anything for me!” she screamed, still waving the Pokémorph baby threateningly over the balcony handrail. The Vulpix morph screamed as loudly as she could. “We haven’t even had the time to sit down and give her a proper name…”

Jane started crying again. Dave hated situations like this. He’d never been able to handle them properly.

“Please, Jane, I love you,” he muttered, taking a few steps nearer to her. “Why can’t her name just be Jane too as I’ve been saying?”

“I’m not sure I love you anymore,” she said quietly and continued to sob. He felt his heart sting.

“Don’t say that,” he said, laying a hand on her shoulder and moving her other hand that threatened to drop the Pokémorph safely within the balcony. “We’ll sit down together and talk. Everything will be better…”

“No, it won’t,” she sobbed. “You said that last time, too, and it just stayed the same.”

“No, it didn’t, until you started complaining about nothing again! Why do you keep having these ridiculous hysteria fits about everything?” slipped out of Dave in frustration. He regretted it immediately; Jane pushed his hand off her shoulder and turned away.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that…”

Jane threw the baby into his hands and stormed back into the apartment.

“Wait, Jane!” Dave called desperately, running in after her with the morph squirming in his hands. “I really didn’t mean it! I haven’t slept for days! I was just…”

“Goodbye, Dave,” she called over her shoulder.

“No, please, don’t leave…”

The door slammed. Dave stared at it.

He bit his lip and blinked a few times to clear his eyes out. “****,” he muttered.

The baby still howled. Momentarily, he felt that maybe Jane had had the right idea and felt an urge to throw it at the wall or out of the window as hard as he could, but had the sense to stop himself. He tried for a couple of seconds to keep it in and then gave up.

“****!” he screamed at the clothing rack. Then at the bawling Vulpix morph in his hands, “I hope you’re happy, you little freak!”

She continued to howl for food. He looked at her for a few seconds and didn’t have the energy to be angry anymore. He quickly splashed some infant formula milk from the refrigerator into a baby bottle and fed her absent-mindedly; after a moment he opened the refrigerator again and got out a few cans of beer that he put onto the table before closing the fridge with his foot.

He suddenly realized that the little Vulpix girl was already asleep. Everything seemed so unreal that he hadn’t noticed.

“****,” he muttered again, carried her into the bedroom and put her down on the bed before taking out his cellphone and entering Jane’s number. He slumped down on one of the couches in the living room, still staring at the number on the screen.

“Later,” he muttered to himself. “When she’s gotten over it.” Then he added, as if to reassure himself, “She always does.”

Admittedly she had never before gone quite as far as to walk out of the apartment on him. She had locked herself in the bathroom and refused to come out, and she had verbally told him she was going to leave, but she had never actually left.

“She always gets over it,” he repeated, retrieved a can of beer from the kitchen table and opened it. “She loves me…”

And he took a good, long sip.


He awoke to the muffled crying of the morph from the bedroom and found himself lying in an awkward position on the couch with a couple of empty cans on the table. He could only really remember one of them. He’d been too sleep-deprived to notice exactly how much he was drinking.

Dave groaned and stood up, rubbing his eyes. He checked his watch; it was one in the morning. He walked sleepily towards the bedroom and pushed the half-open door ajar. The Vulpix morph was flailing her arms and legs and screaming at the top of her lungs.

“What is it you want this time?” he said disdainfully. “Need your diaper changed? More food, you greedy little *****? Or are you just screaming for your mommy because your daddy isn’t good enough for you?”

He left the room, got his cellphone out and dialed Jane’s number again.

“Hello?” he heard her voice.


There was a long sigh on the other end of the line.

“Look, Jane, I’m sorry,” Dave said. “I slept a little… please tell me you’re coming back.”

“Not while the freak is there,” he heard her say.

“I can ask one of the others to take her.”

There was a long silence.

“I don’t love you anymore, Dave,” she said softly. He gripped the phone tighter, squeezing it like he could make it tell him Jane was saying something else. “You get so stupid when you drink…”

“I’ll stop drinking,” he said immediately.

“…and you seem to be married to your job…”

“I’ll quit my job.”

“…like on our anniversary, when you begged like a child to get to watch that horrible debate…”

“I’ll never watch TV again.”

“…and those few times we do get to be alone together, all you think about is sex.”


He stopped. No, he wouldn’t.

“Look, Jane,” he said instead, “maybe there are some things where you’re the one who needs to come towards my needs…”

She sighed again on the other end. “Goodbye, Dave. Don’t call me.”

And she hung up.

The *****.

He closed the cellphone and threw it at the couch. “******* *****!” he shouted at the phone.

He hurried over to the refrigerator and opened it, but didn’t find any alcohol. He closed it again and wasn’t sure what he’d do. Finally he went into the bedroom to the still-crying Pokémorph baby and collapsed onto the bed next to her.

“Jane…” he moaned. He was silent for a long while, listening obliviously to the cries of the little Vulpix girl.

“It’s just you and me now, isn’t it, little Jane?” he muttered, turning to the child. “Jane…”

He winced. “No, I really can’t call you Jane. Not quite that, anyway. Too much painful association.”

Dave looked at his adoptive daughter. Her tiny fangs were visible in her open mouth and whitish hair was already growing on her head and organizing itself into unnatural curls. He sat up and stroked her face carefully, scratching behind her triangular ear; her mouth latched on to his finger and instinctively started to suck on it. He smiled briefly and stroked her one soft, white tail that would one day split into six and gain color.

“How about something more like… Jean?”

The baby was quiet, still sucking on his finger in an attempt to get milk out of it. He decided to take that as a yes.

“God, I’m unoriginal when I’m halfway sober,” he muttered to himself as he went into the kitchen to make some more formula milk.


“Hello?” Dave grumpily answered the telephone. “I’m kind of going out the door, if you don’t mind…”

“You’re the guardian of Jean Ambrose, the Vulpix Pokémorph, correct?” said the voice on the phone.

“Uh, yes…?”

“Good afternoon. I’m from Rayquaza Studios, and we have just bought the rights to filming the Sarah Hooter books. We would be ready to pay very handsomely if you would agree to signing a contract for your daughter to be in the main role – in a few years when the script is ready and everything, of course…”

Dave chuckled. “Isn’t this a little early to start making contracts? Or did your Xatu foresee that she’ll be a great actress when she’s a teenager?”

“Publicity, you know,” the person on the other end said. “Putting some girl in a costume is both more of a bother and much less intriguing for the fans, you know. Nobody expects kid actors to actually be any good. What matters is that the kids will love to know that Sarah Hooter in the movie is actually real! They’ll be able to go meet her! Of course, there is always the problem of how to do the scenes before she’s transformed – we’d either need an actress who looks a lot like her or to digitally remove her Vulpix features…”

“Look, I’m busy, and I really think you should speak with her about this sometime when she’s ready, okay?” Dave sighed and hung up. “Stupid media. Who in their right mind would want to film that crap?”

“Daddy?” asked Jean. “Are we going yet?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” he replied and took her tiny hand.


“I’m here to see Mr. Rogers.”

The lady behind the desk took one glance at Jean, who was standing on tiptoe, peeking up past the edge and looking at her with big, round, chestnut-brown eyes.

“Go right in, Mr. Ambrose. He’s been expecting you.”

“Come on, Jean.”

He led her to a door on the left, adorned with large black letters.

“P-R-I-N-C-I-P-A-L,” Jean spelled as Dave hesitantly turned the doorknob.

“That’s right, sweetie,” he said as he opened the door, ruffling the curls of her now-red hair. “You’re so smart.”

She beamed up at him as they walked into the office. A balding, elderly man was writing something by a desk straight ahead; the wall behind it was covered completely in intimidating bookshelves. Jean looked curiously around the room, perking her ears.

The man looked up. “Sit down, Mr. Ambrose.”

Dave sat down on one of the small chairs in front of the desk and motioned to Jean to take the other.

“So,” the principal said. “Your daughter. You applied for schooling for her, correct?”

Dave just nodded, watching the man carefully. “A problem with the paperwork?”

“No, no,” Mr. Rogers said, waving his hand casually. “But…” He looked at Jean’s curious face and then back at Dave. “You must understand that your daughter is quite unusual.”

“Oh, I get it,” Dave said coldly. “You don’t want her in your school, do you?”

The principal peered at him through electric blue eyes. “My personal opinion is hardly a matter worth discussing, Mr. Ambrose,” he replied, “as this is a public school.”

“Then what is the problem? Trying to find some other excuse not to take her?”

“How old did you say she was again?” Mr. Rogers asked, ignoring Dave’s comment.

“Five,” Dave replied, “but her development happens a little faster than that of an ordinary human being, so she is capable of all the mental tasks of a six-year-old. I’ve taught her the alphabet, too, and plan to have her able to read fluently by the time she starts school.”

“I see,” the principal replied ambiguously, collecting some papers from his desk into a stack and placing it aside. “Well, the law for public schools says that potential students are only to be denied admission or expelled from the school if they seem to be repeated troublemakers or of insufficient intellect to keep up with others in their grade…”

“Get to the point.”

“Well,” Mr. Rogers said, not without a hint of annoyance, “does she… light things on fire, intentionally or unintentionally? Does she bite people? Does she use the toilet as one would expect of other students?”

Dave looked at him for a second and then laughed. “You know, I know exactly what you’re thinking. It’s what I was thinking before I got to know those kids. Now that I do know them, I can testify that they’re more pleasant company than half of the morons you let into your school just because they happen to be fully human. And for the record, she may learn Fire attacks in the future, but doesn’t know any yet, and if she did, she wouldn’t use them.”

The principal cleared his throat. “Mr. Ambrose, I do hope you can understand why we don’t allow children to bring weapons to school.”

“Well, yeah, but the fact the morphs can’t remove their ‘weapons’ is a very crucial point,” Dave argued. “Both the obvious fact that either they’re going to school with them or not at all, and that the reason you have something to worry about when a normal child brings a weapon to school is that they wouldn’t be bringing a weapon if they didn’t intend to use it. I mean, true, the morphs would be easily able to smuggle a ‘weapon’ in if they felt like doing somebody harm, but how often does a well-raised kid really feel that way? Feel free to expel them if they try to use them, but my daughter has a right to professional education as long as she isn’t hurting anyone.”

Mr. Rogers did not look convinced. “Anything that is that easily able to attack the other children should not be in a public school.”

“I told you, she can’t use fire yet. You can reconsider when she learns it if you absolutely have to, sure, but according to our calculations that is not likely to be until she’s a teenager from the way her fire sac is maturing…”

The principal sighed. “Fine, but what about biting? Or any other… what to call it, ‘Pokémonlike’ behavior?”

“She’ll bite under exactly the circumstances an ordinary kid would bite and no more often than that,” Dave replied irritably. “She behaves like a human in all but very insignificant ways. I mean, she snarls and bares her fangs when she’s provoked sometimes, but I’d laugh if you tried to use that as an excuse not to accept her into your school.”

“I’m bored,” Jean whispered from Dave’s side, looking up from the paperclips she’d been playing with. “When can we go?”

“Not yet, honey,” he replied, his voice dripping with subtle sarcasm. “The nice man doesn’t want you to go to school, see.”

She looked up at him with an innocent expression of puzzlement. “Why not?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. Why don’t you try asking him?”

She turned to Mr. Rogers and looked adorably up at him.

Just try to tell those puppy eyes that she’s a danger to the other students! Dave thought triumphantly to himself, trying to hide the amusement in his expression. Just try!

The principal didn’t try.

“Well, Mr. Ambrose,” he finally mumbled, “I suppose if she is really incapable of using fire as you say, there can’t be much harm in having her, but for her sake, I must beg you to consider the social issues…”

“I have considered them,” Dave replied, “and I came to the conclusion that she would be a great deal better off socially by mingling with some kids of roughly her mental age than if isolated from them.”

Mr. Rogers waved his hand hopelessly. “Fine. We’ll register her. But I assure you that we will reconsider if she starts burning things. You may leave.”

Dave smiled victoriously. “Thank you, Mr. Rogers,” he said, took Jean’s hand and walked with her out of the room.

“You are a genius,” he muttered on the way out with a fond grin. “Classic. Truly masterful timing.”

She giggled innocently. “You’re always saying weird things.”

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Old 05-30-2007, 01:55 AM
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Default Re: Morphic (PG-13, possibly offensive to some)

Poor Dave, he had it rough. I'm glad he didn't get rid of Jean.

Who wouldn't deny those innocent eyes of a Vulpix? With that charm, she'll get everything in life.

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Old 05-30-2007, 02:07 AM
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Default Re: Morphic (PG-13, possibly offensive to some)

You're... You're just a wonderful writer. There's no denying it. I love this- plot, characters, the way you write it, everything. It reminds me so much of When the Wind Blows by James Patterson, though in this, the scientists actually take care of the children they've created. I'd love to read on, and I can't wait for an update. ^^

I feel kinda sorry for Dave, but he seems to be doing well as a single father. I can't wait to see how the other Pokemorphs are faring, especially the poor Slugma one. (Honestly, what were they thinking?)

Last edited by Draconic_Espeon; 05-30-2007 at 02:09 AM.
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Old 05-30-2007, 02:12 AM
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Default Re: Morphic (PG-13, possibly offensive to some)

Originally Posted by Draconic_Espeon View Post
You're... You're just a wonderful writer. There's no denying it. I love this- plot, characters, the way you write it, everything. It reminds me so much of When the Wind Blows by James Patterson, though in this, the scientists actually take care of the children they've created. I'd love to read on, and I can't wait for an update. ^^
Heh, I'm currently reading that book. ^^

I haven't read much of it yet, but I will when I get the chance.

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Old 05-30-2007, 02:21 AM
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Default Re: Morphic (PG-13, possibly offensive to some)

I'd reply on SPPf, but it's being annoying here it is! :D

...please, how surprised are you that I'm here? After all, it was about time I branched out. X3

Anyways, I actually like the turn you took in this chapter to not skip a full ten years (half that is good, too, and less, yup-yup). It was very interesting to see what had happened to just one of the couples, just to what extent the pressure got to them and so on. And ah, I was wondering how the Morph babies would be breast-fed, as I was pretty sure that women can't breast-feed unless having just given birth. But as usual, hormones are the answer to everything!
...gawd, it must really have been torture for all the girls. You get a new baby shoved at you, which you're expected to breast-feed, which will encounter all kinds of problems in their life and consequently yours, I just can't get over the cleverness of doing a Morph fic this way.

This chapter was generally quite interesting. I really liked the meeting with Mr. Rogers (not such a beautiful day in his neighbourhood now XD) and yes, KIDDIE-CUTENESS OWNS THE WORLD. It ended up being a bit predictable, but that was okay because well, Dave owned Mr. Rogers the whole way through. But again, great "foreshadowing" (or at least a basic glimpse) into how the world may tend to view the Pokémorphs.

Other great ideas I liked:
-VERY good idea for the baby not to be brown right away- I completely didn't think of it until it was mentioned, and again, I am loving the realistic touch here. It's weird that I forgot, too, seeing as my old mutant Vulpix character was all white and hadn't grown his other tails...ever. Silly Heekali. XD
-Aaaaaand Dave makes another drunken descrision! I liked the turn of Jane leaving him and, in his drunken state, naming his daughter a messed-up version of her name. Neat. XD
-Should have seen it coming: getting little Jean to play Sarah Hooter. It would have happened eventually that there would be some kind of new interest in Pokémorphs with the kids' appearance. I do wonder if Jean'll take the part, though...I kind of get the feeling she will. o.O *is highly interested in this and the kind of tension it may cause between her and the other Morph teenagers (I'm sure she'll be a teen by that time)*
-'Pokémorph babies' just sounds sooooo cute. just wanted to put that out there. Just....oy. ;;

Anyways, very nice job with this chapter - I'm glad you decided you write it - and I really look forward to more! Good luck! ^^

EDIT: Wooooow, while writing this, THREE other people posted. XD Awesome.
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Old 08-12-2007, 04:08 PM
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Default Re: Morphic (PG-13, possibly offensive to some)

Wow, I haven't posted chapter four here yet. o_O

Chapter 4

Author's Note: Remember that warning before the first chapter about how the fic is going to include sensitive subjects and may offend people? Yeah, that wasn't referring to that little abortion debate. It was referring to what you'll see in this chapter and later.

So again, I will emphasize that this fic is not trying to rant or preach about anything. All there is to it is characters with opinions. You have been warned.


“We are gathered here today to discuss a desecration of life and of God’s Creation. We are here to discuss a most brutal violation of the laws handed down to us from the Holy Spirit when our ancestors fled to the Pokémon world. We are here to discuss abominations against nature and the natural hierarchy where humans rule over Pokémon. I am referring, of course, to the Pokémorphs.”

Isaac Daniels looked around the room. It was just the church cellar, mostly used for Sunday school, but religion was always steadily losing its popularity among the young and a few months ago they had canceled Sunday school and instead started to hold meetings for the few attending children in each other’s own homes, while the parents had weekly meetings here after having convinced the priest to lend them the room for the purpose. That, incidentally, was why no one had bothered to change all the light bulbs in the room that had gone out. There was only one that still worked and that one only barely: it flickered on and off every now and then, leaving the room in momentary darkness.

It was truly pathetic, he thought, for an institute of such former greatness as the church, that not only were all the influential bishops starting to preach liberalism, hypocrisy and loose interpretations of God’s word: the few true believers, when they needed to meet and discuss matters of true spiritual importance, had to do so in secrecy thanks to those appalling free speech-violating hate crime laws, and not only in secrecy, but in a dark, messy church cellar with nonfunctional lights.

“The Pokémorphs,” he repeated. “Humans, though created in His image, should not play God, but those propagators of science and evolution of course disregard this as fantasy. I need only cite the very fourteenth Commandment: ‘The creatures shall be the humble servants and the men shall be their kind masters: they are distinct by their nature.’ It tells us that the Pokémonly and the humanly are to be separate. And we are again warned in the Book of Visions, 21.5: ‘And there will be no more distinction between the men and the monsters: the Machoke shall pose as man and lie with the woman as the man.’ By creating the Pokémorphs, they have blurred the natural border between humans and Pokémon, and thus brought us one step closer to the looming apocalypse prophesized in the Book of Visions.”

He looked over the small group again as they nodded in agreement. “Ten years ago, a semi-religious movement chose to fight for the unborn Pokémorphs’ lives. They chose to do this because they valued the sacredness of life above the clear laws condemning the creation of those creatures. But this was based on a misunderstanding. It is, after all, the Lord’s creation and the miracle of natural conception that are things of sacredness; lives created by Man, as the Pokémorphs have, only violate His laws by their very existence. He must be frowning upon us now for having let them live and poison their surroundings for ten years, having let them go to school with our children…”

“One of them was in my daughter’s class,” a woman commented. “I had to have her moved to a different class. Apparently many other parents were doing the same, so they were having difficulties keeping the class together. It’s good to know there are still sensible parents around.”

Isaac nodded. “That does not, however, justify their existence, and the Lord has given us some signs to emphasize this. Mia Kerringan the Scyther Pokémorph, in particular, has shown herself to be a creature of evil, as she has now twice attempted to attack innocent religious children at the school they go to when they tried to expose her to the Word of God. I believe our very own Monica Sellers is the mother of one of the children.” He nodded towards a plump woman with curly red hair.

“She threatened him with her blades…” she sobbed in response as the gathering looked quietly at her.

“The liberal media and the brainwashed public have already accepted the existence of the Pokémorphs. Already, large companies have offered Jean Ambrose the Vulpix Pokémorph the title role in the upcoming films based on the ‘Sarah Hooter’ books, which have already been established to be spreading Pokémon-superiority propaganda and messages of hate towards the righteous. Additionally, some of the scientists responsible for the experiments have expressed that they do not regret creating the Pokémorphs and shown enthusiasm towards the idea of future genetic experiments. First and foremost, it is David Ambrose, the leader of the original Pokémorph project.”

Isaac looked around the room. A couple of people shuddered at the mention of the name.

“You have all noticed him in the media. Atheist and staunch supporter of the scientific worldview. Some of the other scientists were religious as children but then lost their faith (and in fact a couple claim to be liberal believers), but he never believed. He has ridiculed people of faith in public on multiple occasions, is known to drink excessively at times although not as often as he used to, and is a good enough debater to have weaseled every single one of the Pokémorphs into our public schools. He has also proclaimed the manmade Pokémorph children to be superior to naturally conceived children and wants to legalize genetic experiments with human embryos. It is clear that his anger towards God has grown extremely violent, and he seems prepared to do just about anything to get his revenge on the creation. He is more dangerous than all the morphs, simply because he is an adult and can create more of them. Now that he has defended Mia Kerrigan the Scyther Pokémorph after her vicious attacks on the other children twice and managed to force the school to keep her, it has become clear that he must be stopped at all costs. The safety of our children, and of the future world, is at stake.”

A few of the men nodded in agreement, but Isaac noticed a woman looking doubtfully up at him.

“I hope you understand what kind of action I am suggesting we take here. Ladies, what remains is a discussion for the men. You may leave early today.”

There was a short silence as the women looked around at their husbands, but none objected. The sound of chairs scraping the floor echoed off the walls as they stood up to leave. Isaac even held the door open for them. He was a gentleman at heart.

There was no doubt in his mind that he was going to do the right thing, no fear of being caught and sent to prison. He wouldn’t have budged even if those darned liberals hadn’t gotten the death penalty abolished a couple of centuries ago. The Lord had visited him in his dream and told him to do it. It was his ultimate purpose in life.

David Ambrose had to die.


Katherine Harrison dropped her pencil.

She hissed at her hand. Even now, when she had been practicing it for seven years, it was still happening at least around once a week at school.

She pushed her hand down on top of the pencil that was now lying on her desk and tried to get her flaplike fingers to grab hold of it properly. The rustling gave it away altogether too loudly, but the teacher had gotten so used to it that she only glanced briefly at Katherine, rolled her eyes quickly and continued talking. The other students briefly looked over at her. It was only because it was autumn. By Christmas, this year’s classmates would all be so used to it that the sound wouldn’t register in their brains anymore.

She finally managed to fish the pencil up with the petals of her blue rose and awkwardly positioned it so that she would be able to write with it before resuming taking down notes. Scritch scritch. Sometimes she really hated her mother and her coworkers. She wasn’t only a Roselia Pokémorph with fingers that were more like weak petal-like flaps she couldn’t do much with and attracted rather a lot of attention along with the large green thorns sticking out of her head: she also grew so fast that she had been forced to go through twelve years’ worth of schooling in only seven years. Just how difficult was it possible to make school for one’s potential daughter before her birth? And to boot, she was left-handed. That just really took the cake, although her mother had sworn many times that the left-handedness had not been intentional.

Well, it was not like it wasn’t technically the Stop Abortion Movement’s fault, anyway, in an ironic way, although out of her mother’s coworkers, only Dave had ever gotten tasteless enough to actually mention that in his defense. Theirs and Brian’s. Katherine snorted. Oh, yes, Dave. Of course everything is always everybody’s fault but yours. It’s not like the person who thought of doing illegal genetic experiments in the first place is to blame for anything at all. No way. He just provided the genius behind the first ever successful gene-splicing in complex species. No relation at all to the consequences.

Of course she had to admit she was sometimes grateful for Dave. He was the most enthusiastic fighter trying to allow the Pokémorphs to lead a semi-normal life of the bunch and he had managed to talk all of the morphs’ way into public schools despite their obvious difficulties, whether in the form of their physical and mental capabilities developing at supernatural speed, their hands being roses or their arms having blades on them. That, she had to admit, was definitely something. There was no way anybody but Dave could have convinced the schools to let Mia in and to keep her after she very nearly slashed her schoolmates to shreds. Twice. Hell, she was a Pokémorph herself and still wouldn’t hesitate to conclude that Mia had simply shown herself to be extremely dangerous to whoever came within a two-meter radius of her. Sometimes she seriously wondered if Dave was using hypnosis or something.

She realized she’d been letting her mind wander way too much; she had stopped taking down notes long ago and was now just staring emptily out the window that she had to be seated by for her thorns to photosynthesize. She had difficulty concentrating when she didn’t have sunlight shining on her.

She was pretty messed up and would have a very difficult life compared to everybody else, she had long ago realized. But really, she couldn’t do anything about it, and couldn’t help thinking she’d rather be there and have some difficulties picking up pencils than have been aborted as a fetus or even never have existed at all. And heck, even though most people at school must have gotten the impression that having roses for hands was hell, it only really got annoying when it came to holding and controlling small objects like pencils. At least she could move the petals with some force when she used them right. She was still practising to be able to play the violin, and was starting to see a little success.

At least, she thought to herself when she turned back to the teacher to continue taking down notes, she was not Gabriel.


“Hey, uh…”

Gabriel turned around, looking at a little brown-haired kid he hadn’t seen before who seemed, from the looks of it, to be extremely nervous. A few other kids around his age were standing a short distance away, watching.

“Your… you know…” The kid pointed at Gabriel’s hair.

“Let me guess, it’s on fire?” Gabriel asked dully, blindly slapping the front of his spiky red hair with his hand as the kid nodded timidly. He tried his best to stroke his hair back so it wouldn’t get too close to the flames above his eyebrows again. Not that he expected it to be successful for any considerably stretch of time. He had, after all, been trying to keep his hair out of those flames for ten years now, and it always managed to get back into the fire after a while.

“Thanks,” he said to the kid and turned to leave.

“And… um…”

“What? My hands dripping again?” Gabriel sighed as he turned his head.


He looked down at his left hand, which was dripping warm orangeish goo onto the ground.

“Oh. Sorry. It happens.” He hurriedly smeared the slime up his arm with his other hand and then looked at the kid and the group that was still goggling at him. “Let me guess, just finished your first day of school here?”

The kid nodded, still looking at him with wide, terrified eyes.

“Well, I suggest you get used to it,” Gabriel told him and prepared to leave again.

“So are you the… the…”

“Yes, I’m the Slugma Pokémorph,” Gabriel replied with a sigh. “Please try not to make me angry at any point in the future, because if my body temperature gets any higher than it is, I happen to have a very uncomfortably high risk of major organ failure.”

The kid ran for it. Gabriel smiled grimly after him.

“My life sucks,” he sighed as he headed towards his home.

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Old 08-13-2007, 02:36 PM
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Default Re: Morphic (PG-13, possibly offensive to some)

First they say it's immoral to kill them, then they say it's immoral to let them live. I really do believe people are idiots sometimes. >>

Anyway, I like the realistic touch you've added into the mix, with yet more controversy with the Pokemorphs, plus pointing out the problems they themselves have trying to be normal. I'm really glad that you've continued this. ^^

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Old 08-13-2007, 03:52 PM
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Default Re: Morphic (PG-13, possibly offensive to some)

This is fantastic.

I was sceptical at first, I admit. You see a lot of 'morph' stories on all genres, from Pokemon to the Teletubbies, but you gave it a crispness I found refreshing. The characters are completely believable, and I'm glad none of them seem to be developing superpowers.
Oh, nice quirk with the left-handed thing too.

If you should ever feel like co-writing, let me know. Not this - this is your story - but something else. Though I don't know whether I'm worthy of you. *bows*
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Old 08-13-2007, 08:42 PM
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Default Re: Morphic (PG-13, possibly offensive to some)

Another great chapter. Love how there is realism and thewhole religious controversy. I also liked how you described the troubles of the pokemorphs. Overrall, wonderful job!

(Banner by the epic Neo Pikachu) TAC Challenge: I'm learning Finnish! ^-^

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