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Brendan stared into his own eyes for some time. He was as disbelieving of the transformation as Doctor McKenzie, and tried to find some explanation to make the blue-eyed blonde looking back from the mirror not be him.
He slowly turned his head from side to side, watching the reflection do the same. Next, he looked down, then up, keeping his eyes locked with the blonde, neither's attention wavering from the other.
As he moved his head around, he could feel the thick mane of hair that now fell over his ears, completely obscuring them from view. It brushed against those ears, and he could feel the waves falling atop his shoulders, and further down as he sat up to investigate this new body. Brendan could feel the weight of all that hair tugging against his scalp, and he knew without question it was a part of him.
He could see the beauty of the woman looking back in the mirror, even without any makeup - the thought of which terrified him as it came into his mind - and with the mess of hair from it's sudden emergence onto the pillow of his hospital bed. Brendan knew with a face like hers...like his, it would be tough walking down the street and not garnering any attention from wandering eyes.
Brendan supposed he was fortunate in that he could still walk down the street, as Alphonse had said. It surely could have been much worse. He was fortunate to still be alive, at the very least. For that miracle alone, Brendan knew he would endure any form that the fates had chosen to give him in return for keeping him alive.
He reached up and touched the small, upturned nose he had now, and watched as the reflection followed his movements. As much as he may have longed for there to be some different in the image's movements, he suspected he would have been more freaked out if there suddenly was some difference between his own movements, and the mirror image's.
Watching the reflection, he got a look at his new hands, and looked at them more in the mirror first, before holding them up in front of his own eyes. Brendan noted the lack of scarring, just as Alphonse had, and even more that should have been there. The new hands were smaller than he was used to, and it was strange to see something so delicate attached to his body, no matter how it had changed.
He flexed those long, slender fingers, making a fist. It didn't just feel softer, but lighter. He thought it would probably be best to not get into any fist fights in the near future. Of course, there would not be many people seeking to pick a fight with him any time soon. Not looking the way he did now.
Dreading what was next, Brendan looked downwards, at the tented out cloth hanging over his form. Whatever had done this had certainly seen fit to give him a most exceptional example of the female form. The fates had not skimped on his trade in, that was for sure.
Just like his new hair, he could feel the weight of his other added attributes. Many women would have been jealous to find out that some guy had received such things as a complete accident, when they had to do such work to get breasts even close to his.
He looked at them for awhile, the mirror still in one hand, but long forgotten. Hair fell across his forehead, and into his eyes, which he brushed away with the free hand. All of this seemed so unreal, as he sat there staring at something which could not be denied. The mirror, maybe somehow, could have been a trick, but these, that was harder for him to believe was faked.
Someone could have certainly found a pair of breasts and attached them to his chest, but that wouldn't accound for the feelings of the garmet over them, or the way they moved. They simply felt too real. While he couldn't discount the possibility that someone had gone and slipped in a pair of implants while he was unconcious, Brendan thought that was an awfully elaborate length to go to for a prank.
Alphonse remained silent through all this, letting Brendan take it all in, at his own pace. He also didn't want to make his presence known while Brendan was so engrossed, and make him nervous. The doctor also did not wish to find himself staring at his friend again, so kept his eyes averted, with only a few glances out of the corners of his eyes to keep watch on Brendan.
With a steady, if hesitant, hand, Brendan grabbed the collar of the hospital clothes that had been slipped on him sometime while he was unconcious over the last few days. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and tugged the collar away from his chest before he opened them up again.
Brendan's gaze was met with what he pretty much expected to see. The sight wasn't strange to him, as he had seen a few naked women in his time. The only unsettling thing was seeing it from this angle, and knowing it was his body, and his breasts he was looking at.
His breasts. Brendan couldn't even believe the thought was going through his head. He remembered hearing about stories of men getting breast implants on dares, or to make money, but what had happened to him was so far beyond any of that. He hadn't wanted this to happen. He hadn't asked for it, and he wasn't being compensated for it either. None the less, this body was his now, in all its soft, curvy femaleness.
Brendan sighed heavily, feeling the weight of his chest bob up and down with the action. Everything he seemed to do, reminded him of the predicament he was in. He always felt that hair, and the dangling orbs on his chest. He didn't want to know, but he had to try walking, and after spending so much time in bed, even if it had gone by in the blink of an eye for him, having spent all that time unconcious.
Alphonse turned and watched as Brendan swung his long, smooth legs over the side of the hospital bed. The young woman say upon that precipice, feet dangling off, small and dainty like his new hands, which gripped the edges of the bed. They were shorter, definitely not the size 11s he had before the accident. Brendan was clueless on women's foot sizes, but he suspected he'd find out all the gory horrible details soon enough.
His toes brushed against the floor, and while at first he thought he may have lost some height, he noticed that the hospital bed was taller than most normal beds, in the way it was set up. Everything else still looked to be in proportion, however.
Brendan pushed off from the bed, and felt his feet connect with the tiled floor of the room. He let out a high-pitched squeak, and fell back onto the bed, getting a good feel for just how well padded his new rear was.
Hearing the odd little noise, Alphonse stepped forward, concerned for Brendan, as he bounced upon the bed's mattress.
"Is everything all right? What's wrong?"
Brendan blushed, embarrassed to have caused such a fuss for something so silly. "Cold floor. That's all." He flashed a smile at Alphonse, who smiled back, and both of them started laughing. It was something they both needed, to calm their nerves, and break the tension hanging heavy within the air.
Now that he was expecting a rather chilly reception from the flecked, pale green tiles of the room, Brendan tried again. He steeled himself against that cool touch, and eased his feet onto the floor once more, and stood.
As before, he flinched from the cold, but it was far reduced, and almost unnoticable, but there regardless. He wriggled his toes, assessing that everything still worked, and was in its proper place. At least, as much as everything of his could still be where he left it, while now being female.
Feeling steady, Brendan let go of the edge of the bed. For a moment, he wobbled, free of any attachments to anything solid enough to steady him. He was certain that some of his unsteadyness came from the two days of bed rest, and massive doses of radiation, but the fact that his center of gravity was off in ways he could never have imagined were not helping the situation any, either.
He could feel the full weight of his chest now, unrestrained by his body laying down, or scrunched up on the bed. They wanted to tug him forward, but that was off set by the extra flesh around his hips. Everything felt just the slightest bit off, and he felt awkward as he tried taking a step forward. It felt like he was trying to walk for the very first time.
Once he had moved that first raised foot through the air, and it came back down on the floor, Brendan found it wasn't as bad as he was fearing. He still felt awkward, but once he had felt how the body wanted to move, and he wanted to move, it was easy to rethink things, and move the way he was supposed to, and compensate for how his new body was built, and where everything was now.
He still held his arms out at his sides like he was walking along a tightrope as he walked, experimenting and getting a feel for it with each step. Brendan realised that with the way he was walking, with where his feet were falling, it was more like a tightrope than he would have otherwise expected. Each footfall just naturally - or as near to it as he could manage in these early days of his transformation - landed one in front of the other, as his new skeletal structure changed the way he moved.
After only a few more steps, Brendan's arms fell at his sides and swung as naturally as he could manage right then. He couldn't help but feel an odd sense of pride over rediscovering the simple act of walking. Expecting to have faceplanted into the floor tiles before even taking that first step, Brendan was most pleased with managing to figure it out as quickly as he had, even if there wasn't any real difficulty to be encounterd. He had only expected everything to be totally different from what he was used to.
While he could certainly tell difference, it was nowhere near enough to make him non-functional. He was still a human, just with the barest of cosmetic differences, giving him the impression of feeling a lot more awkward than they actually were.
Alphonse shook his head in amusement at Brendan's simple joy. He was happy that his friend was alive and well, and pretty much coping with his predicament. Brendan would require obersvation over the next few months, but if today was any hint, he could manage quite well in his new existence.