The Sound and the Furry, Chapter 1
The new year has been eventful so far. I solved the GAMES Magazine contest, "Mystery Cross III," so quickly it seemed like an accident. I've made a discovery about incompatible polyomino decompositions, and I hope to write a paper on the topic. I read A Dirty Job by Christopher Moore, and he's really funny (think Dr. McNinja). I'm planning on reading more of his books.
Well, here's the first part of that story I mentioned last time. For now, it is titled with a bad pun. Enjoy.
Mycroft willed his alarm to turn off. When that had failed for two minutes, he reached over to the clock on the bedside table and turned the alarm off manually. Collapsing back on his bed, Mycroft considered how silly the idea would have sounded two years ago if he had seriously thought willing a little slider into the off position would actually move it over. He still couldn’t do that, of course, but there was a telekinetic lizard on campus-a monitor, if memory served-who had refined her talent mainly over the last month or so.
He knew that his alarm was set specifically so that he wouldn’t miss either breakfast or Mr. Chow’s poli-sci class. But with the apathy that comes with waking up in a comfortable bed, Mycroft returned to thinking about that lizard. He’d have to find her name again-maybe it was Shelly?-so he could ask her to teach him. That was when he noticed his breasts, which proved more effective than the alarm clock.
“GAH!”
Mycroft bolted upright and stared at his newly rounded chest for a few seconds. He cautiously probed the protrusions and found there was another, smaller pair closer to his belly. If pressed, he would admit they felt nice, insofar as a third-grade violin concert sounded nice. The sound might not be inherently terrible, but you generally wouldn’t go see it unless one of your children were in the orchestra, and these weren’t his children.
He decided there wasn’t much he could do about it right now, so he took off his pajamas and went into the bathroom. He looked over himself in the mirror briefly, checking for his “huevos”-it was somewhat understandable but nonetheless perplexing how the Spanish euphemism meant “eggs”-and, finding no difference in that area, proceeded to shower.
Fifteen minutes later, Mycroft was toweling off his gray and brown fur instead of using the hot-air dryer. That thing really stung his nipples, and he was already sick and tired of thinking about breasts every two minutes. It wasn’t over yet, because now he had to consider support. His roommate BJ was out right now-probably hadn’t returned from a party Mycroft cared nothing about-and one of BJ’s drawers held brassieres of various sizes. He wondered whether it would bad to go through that drawer, since some of them were probably stolen anyway.
It turned out he didn’t need to, because then he heard BJ’s keycard go through the slot at the door. He turned away quickly out of embarrassment, and before the door slid open he also wrapped the towel around his chest. (He’d already put on pants, so that wouldn’t be a problem.)
“Hey, Mike, I see you’re up!”
“BJ,” Mycroft responded. “Just the herm coyote I was looking for. I need to ask you a favor.”
“Yeah?”
“May I borrow a pair of bras?”
BJ snickered. “Sure thing,” shi said as shi look in hir bra drawer. “Still trying to change English around by yourself?” shi added while tossing a blue brassiere onto the bedside table.
“Not really,” said Mycroft, picking up the unmentionable. “Definitely not that part, since I’m trying to cover two pairs of breasts.” He pressed it against his chest, then tossed it back. “Too big.”
BJ hesitated a bit, then said, “Wait, really? Let me see.”
“No.”
“Come on!”
“Stay off me, BJ!”
“All right. Jeez. Well, you’re definitely acting like a girl.”
“I’m not a girl.”
“No, I mean-“
“No, I mean I checked.”
“Oh,” said BJ, sounding disappointed. Although hir full chosen name, Beamjumper (which was ostensibly about chasing rays of light), demonstrated a failure of name self-selection in the form of female sexual innuendo, BJ expressed a healthy physical attraction toward females, mostly.
“I’m making an appointment to get them removed,” continued Mycroft, turning to glare at BJ, “so don’t get attached.”
“Right.” BJ looked at the piece in hir hand Mycroft had tossed back. “Are you sure it’s too big? ‘Cause this is a C-cup.”
“Then give me a B- and an A-cup. Those are smaller, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, but….” BJ sighed, then rummaged through hir drawer a little further. “Try this,” shi said, handing Mycroft a two-tiered muted green article, which was probably more like teal, but no one else was going to see it anyway.
Mycroft turned the alien piece of clothing over, orienting himself to its several straps. So oriented, he put it on over his towel, and then carefully slid the towel out from under. It felt comfortable-certainly less likely than the towel to fall off-so he turned around and asked, “Does this look like it fits?”
“Unfortunately.”
SLAP!
“Ow! What was that for?”
“That was for your lewd and somewhat insulting attitude.”
“You can’t do that! I’m twice the woman you are, right now!”
“I don’t have time for this.” Mycroft tossed on a sweatshirt and his heavy jacket. “I have a class with an eccentric professor in twenty minutes, and it’ll take me at least that long to get breakfast and find the room.”
Well, here's the first part of that story I mentioned last time. For now, it is titled with a bad pun. Enjoy.
Mycroft willed his alarm to turn off. When that had failed for two minutes, he reached over to the clock on the bedside table and turned the alarm off manually. Collapsing back on his bed, Mycroft considered how silly the idea would have sounded two years ago if he had seriously thought willing a little slider into the off position would actually move it over. He still couldn’t do that, of course, but there was a telekinetic lizard on campus-a monitor, if memory served-who had refined her talent mainly over the last month or so.
He knew that his alarm was set specifically so that he wouldn’t miss either breakfast or Mr. Chow’s poli-sci class. But with the apathy that comes with waking up in a comfortable bed, Mycroft returned to thinking about that lizard. He’d have to find her name again-maybe it was Shelly?-so he could ask her to teach him. That was when he noticed his breasts, which proved more effective than the alarm clock.
“GAH!”
Mycroft bolted upright and stared at his newly rounded chest for a few seconds. He cautiously probed the protrusions and found there was another, smaller pair closer to his belly. If pressed, he would admit they felt nice, insofar as a third-grade violin concert sounded nice. The sound might not be inherently terrible, but you generally wouldn’t go see it unless one of your children were in the orchestra, and these weren’t his children.
He decided there wasn’t much he could do about it right now, so he took off his pajamas and went into the bathroom. He looked over himself in the mirror briefly, checking for his “huevos”-it was somewhat understandable but nonetheless perplexing how the Spanish euphemism meant “eggs”-and, finding no difference in that area, proceeded to shower.
Fifteen minutes later, Mycroft was toweling off his gray and brown fur instead of using the hot-air dryer. That thing really stung his nipples, and he was already sick and tired of thinking about breasts every two minutes. It wasn’t over yet, because now he had to consider support. His roommate BJ was out right now-probably hadn’t returned from a party Mycroft cared nothing about-and one of BJ’s drawers held brassieres of various sizes. He wondered whether it would bad to go through that drawer, since some of them were probably stolen anyway.
It turned out he didn’t need to, because then he heard BJ’s keycard go through the slot at the door. He turned away quickly out of embarrassment, and before the door slid open he also wrapped the towel around his chest. (He’d already put on pants, so that wouldn’t be a problem.)
“Hey, Mike, I see you’re up!”
“BJ,” Mycroft responded. “Just the herm coyote I was looking for. I need to ask you a favor.”
“Yeah?”
“May I borrow a pair of bras?”
BJ snickered. “Sure thing,” shi said as shi look in hir bra drawer. “Still trying to change English around by yourself?” shi added while tossing a blue brassiere onto the bedside table.
“Not really,” said Mycroft, picking up the unmentionable. “Definitely not that part, since I’m trying to cover two pairs of breasts.” He pressed it against his chest, then tossed it back. “Too big.”
BJ hesitated a bit, then said, “Wait, really? Let me see.”
“No.”
“Come on!”
“Stay off me, BJ!”
“All right. Jeez. Well, you’re definitely acting like a girl.”
“I’m not a girl.”
“No, I mean-“
“No, I mean I checked.”
“Oh,” said BJ, sounding disappointed. Although hir full chosen name, Beamjumper (which was ostensibly about chasing rays of light), demonstrated a failure of name self-selection in the form of female sexual innuendo, BJ expressed a healthy physical attraction toward females, mostly.
“I’m making an appointment to get them removed,” continued Mycroft, turning to glare at BJ, “so don’t get attached.”
“Right.” BJ looked at the piece in hir hand Mycroft had tossed back. “Are you sure it’s too big? ‘Cause this is a C-cup.”
“Then give me a B- and an A-cup. Those are smaller, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, but….” BJ sighed, then rummaged through hir drawer a little further. “Try this,” shi said, handing Mycroft a two-tiered muted green article, which was probably more like teal, but no one else was going to see it anyway.
Mycroft turned the alien piece of clothing over, orienting himself to its several straps. So oriented, he put it on over his towel, and then carefully slid the towel out from under. It felt comfortable-certainly less likely than the towel to fall off-so he turned around and asked, “Does this look like it fits?”
“Unfortunately.”
SLAP!
“Ow! What was that for?”
“That was for your lewd and somewhat insulting attitude.”
“You can’t do that! I’m twice the woman you are, right now!”
“I don’t have time for this.” Mycroft tossed on a sweatshirt and his heavy jacket. “I have a class with an eccentric professor in twenty minutes, and it’ll take me at least that long to get breakfast and find the room.”