Date: Sun, 15 Aug 1999 20:23:54 -0500 (CDT)
From: Abner Whateley <X_Zero_23@webtv.net>
Subject: Small Changes TG

Alfonso Dukamon hated A. Franky Midgill with a passion. He had only
known of his existence for five short months, but during those months he
had looked at the young man with nothing but loathing. Both were
trumpeters in the Weldon City orchestra.  An inconsequential little
assemblage to be sure, but it played very large in the life of Mr.
Dukamon. It was in fact the most important thing in his life.

Al had started out in life with such promise, and I.Q. that read off the
scale, He had quickly skipped from grade to grade, entering MIT at the
age of 16 he had quickly outshone even the brightest there. In the five
years he spent at MIT was estimated that he had absorbed more then four
people put together.  No doubt about it, he was one sharp cookie. Too
bad that while his I.Q. was stratospheric his E.Q., or Emotional
Quotient, took a dive in the other direction. In other words Alfonso
couldn't get along with nobody, nohow noway!  In the five years he spent
at MIT he had brought two professor to nervous breakdowns and if not for
his impressive six foot, four inch, 280 pound frame would have been
beaten up any number of times.

On graduation, an event that was followed by a near riotous party on the
part of the faculty, Al found it more then a little hard to find work.
Yes, the recruiters had been drawn to this record like flies.  However
after interviewing him company after company had passed, some had run.
So for the next three years Alfonso moved from job to job never being
able to stay more then a month or two at any. Until at last by some
quirk of fate Alfonso was able to find himself as a member of the Weldon
City philharmonic. Al it seemed did have one thing that calmed him. The
trumpet. He had picked up this talent in-between inventing two new forms
of Trans- dimensional physics, and learning every computer language
known.

For some reason some non-arrogant part of him was able to get enough
control of his personality to become and remain a trumpet player with
this minor orchestra.  In his first three years there he had, through
the use of his love of music overcome his hate of almost everything
else. he was by the time Franky showed up a fairly large (if still
unloved) fish in a distinctively small pond. He had moved up until he
was ready to take his place as first trumpet.

Ready until the ghastly boom was lowered that a brilliant, vastly more
experienced and talented trumpeter would be coming in to fill that spot.
one A. Franky Midgill.  Surprisingly enough Al was able to keep himself
under control. Inside he was white hot with rage.

Al kept himself under control because he had an ace up his sleeve.
Playing the trumpet in a minor orchestra was not the only thing that
Alfonso had been occupying himself with for the last three years. He had
also been putting the vast amount of knowledge he had to a most
particular use.

Alfonso Dukamon you see had been able to decipher the mathematical code
which underlies what what we call reality, not only that, he further
believed he could change it.  For the next five months after the arrival
of the hated Franky the only things that Al thought about and worked at
were his music and his work on what he had started to call The
Interface.

At the end of those five month he now stood before it in his basement.
The bizarre conglomomerate of hardware looked like a twisted offspring
of a pipe-organ, satellite relay station and a tasteless hunk of art
deco.  The most recognizable part of the monstrosity was a computer that
bulged out of a part of it. Al stepped up to the machine and turned it
on. He had not tried the thing due to his arrogance, which would not let
him doubt himself. His plain was to overwrite the existence of his rival
and place himself in his situation as lead trumpeter, after that?

Who knew, after that wrong had been set right there would be a lot of
changes in the world, but first would be the setting to rights the one
that had lived in his head for the last five months.  The Interface was
now giving off a satisfying hum, it's surface was alive with shifting
rainbow globules that rose and fell back into it as if the metal hull
were a lake and they were it's glowing misshapen fish. And he had not
even fully engaged the thing! Throwing the final set of toggles Al
brought it fully to life.

The effect took him by surprise. Where before the Interface had been
awash in strange multi-colored light, turned to full power it now became
a living nova of them.  Al jumped back, the world within 4 feet of the
Interface took on the consistence of Jell-O caught in an earthquake,
about 7.4 on the Richter scale Al guessed.

Standing outside the four foot wall of rippling reality Alfonso could
feel himself being buffeted by the force of the Interface.  His
overweening ego took this not as a sign to beware, but only as proof
that not only would his creation succed but succeed even more grandly
then he had anticipated.

Taking a deep breath he stepped into the multi-chromic chaos that
enveloped his Interface. Within the four-foot nimbus things only got
worse, it took what seemed like 10 minutes to reach the keyboard, and
having reached it he found himself buffeted and shaken by the warping
field in which he stood. His plan had been to type in a leangthy command
detailing what should happen regarding the fixation of his hated rivel
and himself.  He now knew this would be impossible, barely able to stand
in the Interface's corona he hastily typed in "I become A. Franky
Medgill and lead trumpet." After three tries he was able to hit the send
command.

There was a flash and a sound like a plunger the size of the average
domed stadium being unstuck from a vinyl couch the size Texas.  Alfonso
was tossed backwards by the last of the warp para-mutations that he was
experiencing, and landed sprawling on his back. Taking in a much needed
breath he hauled himself to his feet.

The basement was in disarray most of the contents having been knocked
about by the force relased by the Interface, which now set silent, the
main body having turned itself off once it's orders had been broadcast.
Only the computer was still active and glowing.

Alfonso started to walk over to the computer to see what the screen now
read, but as soon as this thought came to him he felt a profound throb
move through the whole of his body. "It's starting to work!" he shouted
in triumph and glee.  Forgetting about what the computer said he
staggered to a corner of the basement where he had a full length mirror
bolted to the wall. He looked to see if any changes had taken place, all
the while imagining the look on Franky's face as the forces started to
wipe him out of existence.

As he stood looking his clothing melted off of him like cotton candy
under a hard rain.  Another, stronger throb movied through his body and
he saw himself shrink from his 6' 4" hieght by at least 6 inchs. "Good
enough" he thought to himself, "Midgill is only about 5'10" this is just
as it should be." Another throb passed through his body and a ten more
inches dropped from Al's frame as well as what looked like close to 80
or 90 pounds. "No! This is all wrong!" The perplexed man said "This is
too much." As he made that proclamation outloud his voice cracked, by
the end of the sentence `much came out in a high piping squeak.

Deciding it was indeed time to check the computer. Al was stopped from
this as a cascade of throbs hit him. Mute he watched his reflection as
the changes now pored over him. Still more he shrank. Was he getting
younger? He still looked the same age. At last he stopped in his
downward spiral, he could not have been more then four feel he thought,
then the throbbing increased three fold. Blinded with pain Alfonso stood
shuddering, almost as much from fear as from pain. At last it ended.

Opening his eyes Al saw a form that was completely changed from his old
self.  Before him stood a woman approximately 3 feet 10 inches tall, she
appeared to be about 25 years of age and had coppery red hair in place
of the dull brown that Al had formerly possessed. While small her breast
were large for a woman her size, perhaps 30 C, her ass was wide and
shapely giving her a compacked hourglass shape. Her hair spilled down to
the middle of her back. As astonishing as Al found these changes the one
he found most arresting was the face.

The little woman's face was a living monument to lust, carnality and
craving. "What is this?" al spoke in her now chirping voice. As soom as
those words were spoken Al was dismayed as a vibration began to surround
her. Unlike the throbbing this seemed to come from the outside. Shadows
stared to play over her transformed body; these shadows however could be
felt. Just as the Interface had dissolved his old clothing now it seemed
to was replacing them.

The shadows soon took solid form; Al could feel them gainling weight and
tightening on him. By the end of this cycle of change Al was even more
foreign to his original self. First the shadows had formed into
underwear. Al found himself in black silk seamed hose held up by
garters, her lush rump barley covered by high-cut black lace crotchless
panties. Her almost whisper sheer bra held her soft breasts out like
trophies. Then a corset had taken form, followed in quick secession by
shoulder length leather gloves, a tight leather dress slit to the thigh,
shiny high heels completed the shadows work.

Taking her eyes off these new developments Alfonso Dukamon saw that he
was now also wearing make-up that looked as if the goddess of all whores
had applied it to her face. The final touch was her hair, which was now
piled on her head in an elaborate style. "This won't do!" cried the new
Al. "I must correct this." and so she started to do just that. Only
before she could make it across the basement back to the Interface she
faded from sight and found herself falling through what seemed like a
long, long darkness.  The old rage of Alfonso returned at the state of
affairs he had gotten himself in, but he would fix it, he would as
soon...and then a new sort of wave moved though her, this time in her
mind.

Shortly in a house 20 miles from Al's former home a new working girl
appeared as a member of an exclusive whore house. After she appeared,
reality shifted and all, including herself, knew her as Little Twist,
the most imaginative and eccentric little hooker in Madam Belle's house.
Meanwhile back at Alfonso's former house the computer still glowed.
Looking at it we see his undoing.

The buffeting of the warp field it seemed had made typing more then a
little difficult. In trying to type "I become A. Franky Medgill and lead
trumpet." What he had got was "i bbecomee A fReaky Midgil aand leed
srumpit." The computers's automatic spell checker had interpreted this
as `Make me a freaky midget and lewd strumpet.