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Official Report
Fairhaven Mall
New Hebron, California

“Oh Lord,” the once old man stepped through the automatic glass doors and cast his eyes about the place, a scowl on his new face as they slid shut behind him.

Amelia, stopped craned her neck around, those intense green eyes of her studying him with a look he would have a hard time interpreting if not for the bond between the two. The agent seemed curious, but impatience overtook it the longer he looked around.

He sighed shook his head and took several steps toward her, his cheeks burned as he noticed people watching him. The worst part? It wasn’t because he been standing there craning his neck around like a jackass. Like it or not, racist or not, in his new form he sure was easy on the eyes. Even the baggy, ill-fitting t-shirt and sweatpants he wore seemed to do little to keep people from looking.

He scowled at a young man, no older than fourteen or fifteen, when he caught him casting furtive glances at his chest and with no prompting veered toward the kid both hands balled up into fists.

A thousand slurs were on the tip of his tongue, some worse than others, but before he could unleash any of them he remembered himself. He stopped mid-stride glanced back at the Amelia and shook his head, remembering his deal with her. She’d promised him a meal and by hell he would get one.

He shook his head, returned to the agent and met her gaze. She smiled and nodded. “That was hard for you, wasn’t it, Liv?”

He scowled, but didn’t say a word. According to the United States Government Everett Eugene Howard died during the encounter with the Gallu, and in his place stood Sapphira Olivia Scott a young woman who hadn’t existed a week ago and wouldn’t exist until they processed the right forms. He folded his arms across his chest, his cheeks burning anew as they pressed into his soft, large breasts and sighed.

He’d chosen Sapphira, and he’d left the rest up to Van den Broeke. She’d even dubbed him ‘Liv’ stating that he looked more like a Liv than a Sapphira. His choice in moniker didn’t seem to fit, but for some damn reason it made him all warm and tingly. It was damned unsettling.

The agent stopped at a place called Tease Me, Please Me and waved the other inside. Sapphira swallowed hard, eying the window display which featured mannequins wearing lacy bras and panties that looked too damned impractical, not to mention uncomfortable, for anyone to wear day to day. He saw the necessity for underwear even if the thought of it made him sick. He gritted his teeth, growled out a dozen curses under his breath and followed the agent inside. It was time to goddamned bra shopping.

The agent seemed to know where she was going, that much was clear, but as they moved deeper into the store the more uncertain she became. Her relief was clear through the bond when a saleswoman greeted them, but as the two conversed Sapphira’s panic settled in. This wasn’t right, it wasn’t what he wanted. Dammit!

“Can I help you two find anything?”

“Yes, my friend had a little breast work done, and she’d like a fitting. She’s self-conscious about it,” Amelia smiled and glanced back over her shoulder at Sapphira.

Of course, she would have to say that.

His cheeks burned, as the saleswoman, led him away. She offered encouragement, and Everett might have found her to be endearing if the situation were a little different. When she led him within the fitting room, things got all the more awkward. Somehow she talked him into disrobing and he could only imagine his cheeks were a bright scarlet. Then again maybe not. Could you tell when a black person was blushing?

“My, I must say your doctor does excellent work. I would have never guessed, they look so natural.”

Everett hemmed and hawed as the saleswoman smiled back at him. He wouldn’t call his breasts natural, but they weren’t implants, that much was for sure. “Yes, well they don’t call the doc, the breast man of New Hebron for nothing,” Sapphira said letting out a nervous laugh as the saleswoman eyed him.

She smiled again and glanced down at his chest. “Er, may I?”

Sapphira stood frozen in terror. He knew what the next step must entail, but the prospect seemed so wrong. He forced himself to nod though what he most wanted to do was run. The woman produced a tape measure from within her skirt pocket and took several measurements before disappearing from the little fitting room stall and Sapphira let out a sigh of relief.

“All right in there, Liv?” the agent’s muffled voice came through the door and Sapphira jumped glaring at the door.

“This is humiliating,” he said looking down at his cocoa-colored breasts and gritted his teeth. “This isn’t who I am. Why the hell did you tell the saleswoman I’d had plastic surgery?”

“I’m sorry, I really am, it’s the easiest explanation and as it keeps her from making the one conclusion, we’re trying to avoid. This will be the worst part, if you can get through this, I promise it gets easier. She’s coming back, please keep it up. You’ve done great playing along so far,” Amelia replied and was silent. Though she did not speak, he experienced a warmth through their bond that spoke volumes.

A moment later the door, cracked back open, and the saleswoman came through holding a half a dozen pairs of bras in her hand.

Sapphira, let her have it trying on one after the other. With Amelia’s comforting presence in the back of his head, somehow it didn’t seem so bad.

Official Report
Fairhaven Mall
New Hebron, California

Several hours later, a re-clothed Sapphira stepped out of the last shop, just a little haggard from the new onslaught against his masculinity. Undergarments had been just the start it and that alone had taken close to two hours. Buying an entire new wardrobe took much longer. It had been so time consuming, in fact, that most of the outlets in the mall had already closed up shop.

They’d been at it the entire day, only stopping long enough to purchase and consume a meal from the food court, but only after the agent assured him it did not count as his meal of choice. The agent had been patient, more patient, perhaps than her charge had deserved, but even she looked worn out by the time they had finished shopping.

She’d led the once old man from store to store, purchasing only items he approved, with only two key exceptions, a dress and a pair of flat dress shoes. Neither were frilly nor extravagant, but they were feminine. More so than the slacks, and t-shirts and blouses that composed the bulk of their purchases.

“You’ll want something for special occasions,” she’d said by way of explanation, but no matter how much he nodded and made a show at agreeing, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell he’d ever wear a dress out in public.

The entire day had been miserable for all parties concerned, but there was a sense of anticipation bubbling within Sapphira. He’d spent the entire day being led into store after store and the entire process had left him terrified of what was to come. To distract himself, he’d been ruminating over where and what he would eat when the agent took him out for his promised meal.

He was a steak and potatoes sort of man and that was a prospect that seemed very appealing. He’d had an old favorite back in the day Murphy’s Steakhouse, but it had long since closed its doors, the owners retired and passed away. To this day, it was the bar by which he compared all other steaks. Few had even come close, but even the crap he’d tasted in the food court had been more flavorful than anything he’d consumed in years. He had high hopes for the meal.

As they walked toward their exit, more and more stores were closing for the night, most times slamming security gates shut with more force than seemed necessary. The mall seemed quiet other than that, perhaps too quiet.

They were among the last out and as they came within sight of their exit, a scream permeated the air, echoing through the almost empty space and making it impossible to determine the source. Soon enough, the heard footsteps pounding against the tiled-floors and a man who was more than likely an exemplar judging from his size and the speed at which he came rushing toward them.

“Shit, it’s Kwrump,” Amelia grimaced and glanced back at her charge. “Get down.”

Sapphira complied flinging his body behind a garbage can and dropping his arm full of bags without consideration for where they might go. She produced a little 9mm pistol from inside her coat, rounded on the aberrant and yelled at the top of her lungs. “Freeze, AEGIS!”

The man, stopped cocked his head sideways and grinned from ear to ear and came tearing toward her. “Kwrump smash!”

“Dammit,” Amelia opened fire, and dove out of the way when he got close. Kwrump lumbered forward unable to stop his forward momentum and smashed through the security gate of one store, tearing through the reinforced metal as if someone had constructed it from twigs.

When he arose, blood smeared his chest and limbs, but it didn’t seem to hinder or deter him as he lumbered forward once again. She continued firing, each bullet splattering into his chest, but despite the wounds he did not seem impeded. In fact, it seemed to make him angrier. The agent emptied her clip, discarded it, and popped in a replacement one from inside her jacket without looking at what she was doing. Sapphira knew the agent was very familiar with the weapon.

Kwrump tore though the mall, obliterating whatever lay in his path whether it was a bench or something larger, like a retail kiosk, nothing seemed to stop him and, worse yet, no matter how many bullets the agent pumped into him, he kept coming.

Sapphira saw this, understood that if he did not act, the agent and perhaps everyone else within the mall might die. He was unsure of his new powers or their true extent, but he knew with no doubt, that he could stop the rampaging menace. He hesitated, only a moment, afraid that his actions would reveal him as an exemplar and his new identity uncovered. Amelia’s life was in danger that mattered more than anything.

He rose to his feet, not noticing when his hair shimmered and gleamed, in an instant changing color to the same brilliant sea-green as Ashtar’s locks, nor did he seem aware that his clothing did the same, a plain blouse and jeans glistened and became a one-piece green and black suit complete with a cape and upon his face a simple black domino mask. Save for the hair it was all an illusion. Sapphira’s mind, had generated an image of what he might look like in such a getup the moment he had learned he was an exemplar, influenced in part by his brief, but life-changing encounter with Ashtar, and fed by his fears of recognition his subconscious mind had brought that image to life.

“Stop!” He threw his hand out, and the giant did just that, freezing in place like a statue.

He gestured upward and Kwrump floated off of his feet and into the air above, his body still frozen in position. He hung there in the air murderous intent mirrored in his eyes, but even his mouth remained still. Sapphira, clenched his fists and approached the beast of a man a scowl marring his beautiful features.

“Sleep,” he said the words with an edge in his voice and just like that the giant came crashing back down to the ground mobile, and even angrier than before.

In the blink of an eye, he was back on his feet and before Sapphira could even think to act, Kwrump had already pounced.