Al Fresco: An Erotic Sci Fi Tale

As it was, they considered themselves his last hope. It was they who had supplied his vividly detailed dreams -- as a means of preparing him for what would happen when he awoke after several days (yes, days) of surgery and mental re-arranging (I *said* they were advanced, didn't I?). Finally, their scientists declared themselves finished, and, as far as they were concerned, successful. Still, there was the patient to awaken, and the true success of the experiment would have to be judged by more than just the simple fact that she/he had survived the operation.

Al Fresco had no memory of anything after the paralysis in the park. He had no knowledge of where he was, or why. He should have been totally terrified. But, he wasn't. A curious peace came over him as if he'd been subjected to a long period of stress suddenly relieved. He didn't know why yet, but something about him was different. His body felt different for one thing. It was shaped differently. He felt more powerful than he had ever felt before, both physically and mentally.

He decided it was time to open his eyes. When he did, he was looking directly into the face of a beautiful woman. Somehow, this didn't shock him.

"Hello," he said. "Who are you, and where am I?"

"Glad to see you're awake, and, apparently, feeling all right. Hungry?"

"Yes, and you didn't answer my question."

The lovely lady leaning over him laughed lightly, and backed away a bit, returning with a hand held mirror.

"What's that for," he asked.

"Here. Take a look at yourself."

Al put his hand out for the mirror and had his first real shock -- his hands were the beautifully manicured ones that he'd dreamed of having some day. They trembled slightly as he took the mirror and held it up to his face.

He almost screamed -- his mind overwhelmed by things he could not understand -- but stifled it, enforcing calm upon his emotions with mental powers that he did not know he had ever possessed. (In truth, he *hadn't* had these powers until the Polymorphs gave them to him). Staring out at him from the depths of the mirror was yet another beautiful woman. And, yet, it was *his* face. It was undeniably his face. But transformed. Radiant. Glowing. You get the picture. He handed the mirror back.