Chapter XI
A sizzling sound flew through the air alongside an aroma of delectable spices and vegetables. Steam tangoed in ribbons from the wok Cecelia idly stirred and tossed, her stir fry dinner coming together perfectly. The idleness of being a plant for hours on end, she concluded, roused quite an appetite.
On the ceiling was a haphazardly placed chrome spotlight that shone on Cecelia and her cooking. Just as she watched the tantalizing contents of her wok, the light watched the wok’s user. Between stirring motions Cecelia would refocus her vision to and from her human body to the overhead fixture, viewing the steam rise and feeling it caress her metallic skin.
As she plated her dinner, a rosy pink Nike-branded basketball with black logos and white lines rolled to her feet only to collapse into a swirly candy-colored puddle of slime beside her. The amorphous substance scaled the kitchen cabinets as Cecelia scooped out the last of her stir fry onto the plate. In seconds, a spotless, crystal-clear wine glass had sculpted itself from the pile of goo, soon to be filled by Cecelia stretching her arm out to retrieve and pour white wine from a bottle of Daboville Shiraz. Just as the glass leveled to full, the bottle on Cecelia’s hand melted into drops of wine and splashed in with the rest.
Placing her meal on the breakfast table behind her, she mentally commanded the overhead spotlight to abandon its position on the ceiling and stretch to the floor, which it did by elongating into a gleaming metal pole before compressing into a large droplet on the tile.
By now, Cecelia was delightfully invested in her transformations; she was enthralled by their fluidity, their effortlessness, much in the same way she felt when defining her face through different animal species just this morning. The metalloid dome on the kitchen floor began to change as Cecelia observed it, her subconscious working to form a large rounded base that would become a serving platter made of beautiful porcelain. The metallic outskirts curled in and on top of the platter, lightening up and branching into a ring of lettuce and celery sticks. Finally, within that, the rest of the silver putty transformed into a warm, seasoned rotisserie chicken. Much like with the stir fry she fixed up, steam ascended from the masterfully prepared bird, leading Cecelia to imagine the sensations of that heat washing over her.
She took a sip of her wine between bites, her eyes falling shut as she drank. When they opened, the elegantly presented chicken had dissipated into a plume of steam, dissipating among the air. This intrigued Cecelia’s curiosity, so she set her fork down and condensed her body into a small red cushion for her seat and transferred her consciousness as fully as she safely could into the steam.
To her fright it felt like her body was ripping itself apart in all directions and with increasing speed. It was in no way painful but it wracked her mind with worry and confusion: how much of me is there? What part of me is the most me? Have I torn myself down to molecules? What if I turn baAA—
From what seemed like plain air, a naked Cecelia appeared and careened to the carpet between the kitchen and hallway. From her chair, an identical body sprang up and into existence, elasticizing to the fallen woman only feet away.
The duplicate Daboville rolled onto her back, opening her eyes and yawning as if she’d just awoken from a nap. Instilling more of her mental essence into her, Cecelia helped Cecelia to her feet, the two ladies soon facing each other in mirroring poses. Both were still as statues, their mouths agape in perplexity and bewilderment. Their green irises were unmoving but their gazes were deep like canyons.
Then, just as the secondary shapeshifter materialized from out of the blue, Cecelia jumped to a conclusion: “This must mean I can...!” She clenched her chest, guiding her auxiliary to back up as she withdrew conscious force from her. Cecelia centered her focus, slipped her mind...
...and morphed into Kahri van Houten.
At last, “another woman!!! Awh my god... it’s been so long... ah-heh, I-I sound just like Kahri! Maybe I should learn to talk like her too...” she mused in satisfaction, listening to a perfect emulation of her friend's sassy vocals. As if to confirm her ability had indeed been reenabled, she set her hands to her sides and performed a short set of human-to-human transformations. This involved an aged, bearded American father, a slightly built Korean cheerleader, a curly-haired college frat boy, and finally, the husky Mexican maid she disguised herself as after yesterday’s football game.
With a sigh of ease and a firm smack to her ass Cecelia deflated to her standard shape. “So? You like my routine?” she asked playfully. Of course, her twin smiled and nodded, giving a few light claps to her hands as well. Though, the oddity of conversing with a literal second self made Cecelia shudder, so she extended many tendrils from her torso and wrapped them around her copy, generating a fleshtone cocoon. She pulled herself against the cocoon and redefined it into her native appearance, leaving her whole once again.
Cecelia’s leisurely basketball form. Seems like she enjoys being around the house, in a very literal sense.