Issue 2: Shaper

Alice (as she liked to be called) was working in her current school assignment: A clay sculpture of a dog. The basic form she was making from a block of terracotta clay by hand, but but with her carving tools handy to make the fine detail after she's satisfied with the basic shape.

The art professor walks into the lab while she's working, “You know you could major in this, Adam.”

“It's Alice,” the physical male in a dress with hair down to her shoulders corrects, “...which I've told you, what, a dozen times now?”

“My hands are tied, it's campus policy until you have the final surgery…” the professor shrugs, “...ever since….”

“...ever since the dozenth time they found a game trail camera hidden in the women's showers, yes,” Alice rolls her eyes, “...because the stupid frats get the pledges to put on dresses and wigs, claim they're women, and go plant them,” the artist takes a deep breath, “...and nobody can prove anything, because the police have bigger fish to fry and campus security can't find their butts with both hands.”

“They can't subpeona the sales records to connect the serial numbers to customers like actual courts could, actually… but yeah, it sucks,” the art professor shrugs, smiling, “but there's thousands of biological women on campus and tens of…” he pauses, “...folks legitimately in your situation. ‘The needs of the many’ and all that.”

‘How this idiot got put in charge of art, I'll never know… but the molecular biology program is top notch,’ Alice thinks to herself, “Yeah, well… I need to get this done.”

The professor shakes his head, “Pfft, with your grades? Seriously, your sculptures look like photos. You could afford to blow off an assignment if needed.”

Alice shakes her head, her hair whipping around her shoulders, “I can't let my GPA fall below a 3.9 if I want to maintain my full ride. The B+ last semester in Advanced Genetic Editing of Human Diseases put me close to the edge. I can't afford to slack off.”

“You missed a week to attend your grandfather's funeral, and your professor included attendance in the grade; the man rolls his eyes, “personally I'd have taken that one to student appeals court, but you do you.” The man shrugs again, “it's late, I'm calling it a night… please lock up when you're done.”

“Take care,” Alice says, thinking, ‘good riddance’. Alice finishes up her project, carving the fine lines and adding the paints, then sets it aside for firing.

When she's done, she washes her hands… and notices the deep red of the clay doesn't entirely come off. Not thinking much of it, she goes back to her dorm - a MEN'S dorm, she's not sure if she should be more angry at the fraternities or the school board about that… but at least the school health plan covers her HRT, so she was finally able to start in on that last semister - has her instant noodles, washes up, and goes to bed, trying to ignore her very male roommate here on a football scholarship as he takes his shirt off and flexes in front if the mirror a few times before collapsing, drunk, on his bed.

The woman's dreams are much like normal that night - for her: It starts off with her in her old male body, and she sculpts herself into her dream form, molding her body like clay. The morning, not so much.

Alice wakes up, blurry-eyed, to her roommate shaking her, “Hey, yeah, doll face, ah… you can't be caught in here, my roommate will kill me.”

“But I am your…” Alice begins, trailing off at the new tone in her voice.

“Yeah, um, I'm sure we had LOADS of fun last night, sorry I can't your name, dollface, a little too much to drink, but I'm not joking, you need to leave…” he roughly grabs her by the shoulders and lifts her out of bed.

“Shut up and listen!” Alice slaps her roommate on the face. And that does make him shut up…

…because he no longer has a mouth. Under Alice's angry attack, that quick slap to his face left am imprint like in a clay model, smushing his jaw and merging his flesh. He tries to scream, but can't say much, as his flat lips won't unseal.

“I AM Alice,” she yells at the jock, then pauses, “...and I think I can fix that. Hold still…”

The very terrified man obeys as the woman reshapes the man's face from memory, finding that she's getting the results of hours of work with fine tools in minutes with just her hands… setting aside that flesh and bone should not move like clay.

Alice stands back when she's done, “There… how do you feel?”

The man rubs his jaw, “fine? My face was tingly like when I hit my funny bone while you were working, but now…” he shrugs, “umm… did you shave me? This is the smoothest my chin has ever been.”

Alice pauses, “I wasn't thinking about your beard, because you always shave, I was picturing you smooth…”

“Hey, I'm cool with it, saves me some time every day…” he considers, “Umm… I'm guessing you haven't checked yourself out yet?”

Alice blinks, “I have not.”

“I'm gonna give you some privacy, then…” the man dresses quickly (easy, when it's just a t-shirt he's already wearing, socks and jeans over his boxers, shoes, wallet, and go).

As the door closes and locks from the outside, Alice takes a breath, and turns to the mirror…..