Metamorphosis - 21104.01

By Alora Dys

“So Dys…” her colleague began as he took a sip of the dark, woodsy and piping hot drink. The pair were in a small cafeteria located on the same deck as the main Science Lab, the aroma of coffee permeated the facility. There were two replicators and two small tables, and only the two Science Officers. Taylor had just finished a particularly revealing childhood story…

“…enough about me and my rather pedestrian young life…what was it like growing up on Ferenginar for you? Your looks are…”

Alora smiled knowingly and unapologetically. She was considered physically beautiful by most humanoid standards; her Ferengi and human genetics meshing to form a hybrid that took the best from both her ‘most’ physically disparate parents.

“I wasn’t always…” Alora admitted wistfully, her thoughts and then subsequently her voice, traveling back to time when…

I was an unwanted child when I was born, another useless Ferengi girl-infant of no appreciable value or worth…Ferengi society for all of its ‘advancements’ of women’s rights, falls far short of that reality.

As early as I can remember, Mass (my father) called me ‘Dis’, after his greatest disappointment, a daughter…not a SON to carry on with the business and to teach and learn the Rules of Acquisition. Me. Fortunately, my human mother (though not of Terran origin or ancestry) loved me without reservation; and my father for all of his faults, deeply and completely loved his concubine and could refuse her nothing. Believe it or not, I was a pudgy thing, every bit the unremarkable Ferengi girl-child.

Like most females on Ferenginar, I was not permitted to wear clothing or receive an education; however, I did manage to get an education. At an early age, I was ignored and this extended to my years leading to puberty. During this time, my presence was accepted as if I were a piece of furniture or a pet to do my father’s (and eventually by my half-brothers) bidding…very much the Cinderella story of you Terrans, except I did the house cleaning, the pre-chewing of meals and what errands were demanded of me, all while nude…its why I’m rather shameless in my attire at times…Ferengi females learn no shame from nakedness.

But…I was privy to business discussions between my father AND his business colleague and mentor, Zreg. I listened for hours and hours as the two ‘men’ if you’ll excuse the term, discussed their tactical and strategic business dealings. I remember seeing a pattern in their charts as they discussed what opportunities existed after the ending of FGW, the First General War. Something about the way my brain formed, not in the distinct 4-lobed segments as the Ferengi, but with much lobe section overlapping…I could see that the Federation was going to emphasize starships geared for war over exploration.

I then opened my mouth and let father and Zreg know of my thoughts, the opportunities lay with siding on those companies providing weapons, shields and personnel increases, primarily marines. Father scoffed, didn’t see it, and thought the Federation was going to continue its blind course into discovery until they ceased to exist! Zreg however...he listened and made the early and BOLD contrarian move, siding with my view. Zreg made an obscene profit and never hesitated after that point to inquire as to what I thought of certain trends. It became our secret.

Zreg was (and I presume still) a very shrewd businessman and we entered into…an arrangement. I would offer my market insights for his presence (he saw my worth and treated me far better than my family, save my mother)…he treated me with kindness and I reciprocated…I came to love Zreg more much more than my progenitor. He would teach me a new RofA each time he came to visit, admonishing me to keep it VERY hidden. I was like a grandchild to Zreg, he adored me…and I gladly chewed his meals for him. He would pat me on my head; at that time, the region where my ponytail is, was but a dark fuzzy patch.

I was also a precocious and curious kid, when I was alone (and that was more often than not) I eventually discovered my father’s stash of erotica and read avidly at what was called ‘The Art of Oomox’. I was a clever young lass, and introduced my new found knowledge on Zreg, a seemingly innocuous touch here or there…and then when he had become drowsy with ‘the good stuff’ I began to escalate the touch…and yes, especially for Ferengi males, the lobes are just as sensitive as the human male’s…right, enough said.

To Zreg’s credit, even as our oomox sessions gained in intensity, he never touched me back...remember…I was just another bland Ferengi female, nothing to get physically excited about. By this time I was Zreg’s VERY secret treasure and he sent father off for long trips to Earth and nearby Terran colonies. Zreg meanwhile profited from increasing awareness as he had been teaching me about the Federation, the Klingons and Romulans and Cardassians and others…I wanted to know more and more and Zreg gave me materials and I learned…I even began teaching my mother. This went on for about three or four more years…and then I turned fifteen standard years old.

I went through…what I can only call a metamorphosis during the next few months after my birthday…my ‘baby teeth’ not particularly straight or even; fell out and in their place a perfect set of semi-pointed teeth and FANGS appeared…I was soon a head taller than my siblings and then Zreg. Along with this hyper-active growth spurt, my semi-portly frame, thinned out, I grew breasts, and the fuzzy patch on the top rear of my skull began to grow a thick cord of dark-brown hair. I didn’t like the feel of this new ‘thing’, this hair upon my skull to just lie flat, so I clasped it into the ponytail that you see today. I didn’t like it at first, but it was part of me…a very UNIQUE me; so I kept it.

I’ll never forget ‘The Day’, when Mass returned from his business dealings on New Paris and Deneva…it started out like every other morning, I get up, and begin making the morning’s meal; dung beetle fritters, dire-vermin sausage, blue-fingerling tubers and sloth-otter cheese; all this while unclothed you understand….in true Ferengi tradition! My two ungrateful brothers, Barm and Lonn, were usually fed first; me pre-chewing the different courses, breaking up the chitins, gristle and bones, and then setting the soup-like gruel on their plates.

But this ONE morning, my sweet, arrogant pustule brothers were paying much more attention to my nakedness than ever before; at first pointing and smirking at my chest, until the little bastards…simultaneously, reached out and grabbed one each! I could have killed them! Needless to say, we three entered into a melee of flailing hands, arms, fists and teeth…if it wasn’t for Valeen (my mother, not theirs) I might have done some serious damage…they’re lucky I didn’t grab and RIP off their respective…apparatuses.

Mother called Zreg over to help keep things calm, and when my ‘step-dad’ arrived; he paused for an inordinate amount of seconds before ushering me into the galley and with great gentleness and caring, he wiped the blood and tended to the scratches I had received. I hadn’t seen Zreg in over a month (always a series of business dealings needing taken care of), but I felt a warm flush in his presence…nearly kissed him! But, he backed away muttering ‘No, no, no…’, but I knew he was responding to me physically. He backed away and then went to deal with my siblings…yelling and threatening to take away their meager assets…that’s the best way to get the attention of young Ferengi males…the song of latinum trumps almost any physical pain.

So, after that, Valeen and I begin work on preparing a home-cooked feast for Mass; he had called in from the space port and would arrive via shuttlepod. Zreg was an immeasurable help in keeping my brothers in line as we cooked…a feast fit for the Grand Nagus: Terran pork ribs smoked with local dried swamp grasses and glazed with horned-viper venom, Denebian crackle-beans with spotted-termites, buttered and garlic skunk-weed flour bread, grilled in the husk multi-colored corn-on-the cob and white-truffle stuffed pigeon kebabs. We even had two bottles of Betazed uttaberry wine, a flagon of Eelwasser, and for desert, strawberry-rhubarb pie and Laurelian pudding…I can almost taste it…

Anyway, after an hour or so, Mass arrived and was greeted by his family. Barm and Lonn as always, greeted him first, in hopes of getting either a slip or two of lat from their ‘most wonderful and profit gathering father’; Valeen greeted Mass next (Mass’ actual Ferengi wife lived well across Ferenginar, she was kept ‘handsomely’ comfortable and thus excepted the distant living arrangements).

Now when it was my turn, my family sidestepped away to reveal me…I knew right away that father didn’t recognize me ‘A gift?’ he said, his hands clasped together in some sort of anticipated episode of debauchery…’Where’s Dis? I want to show her what hard work and…’

It was then that Mass turned from the objectification of the young woman before him, into recognition.

‘Divine Treasury…’ my father said softly…even reverently. He was in shock ‘Dis…my daughter…’, and he paused…his face having morphed from lasciviousness, to neutral, if pleased recognition…to horror!

‘Valeen! Your are to get my daughter clothed…THIS INSTANT!’

My mother quickly whisked me to her bedroom and we searched for the most suitable outfit in Valeen’s closet. All the while as I fumbled to get in the green and yellow dress, a non-too-demure evening gown, but one of the least provocative outfits my father had purchased for my mother; Mass kept on yelling ‘Hurry it up! Quick quickly!’

Finally I strode back out to the living room and Mass approached…he having to look up at me, I was a full head taller than he was. Gone was his ‘Dis’ his disappointment. He looked me up and down, and not in a leering fashion, more like looking at an artwork…and then he embraced me, a deep, heartfelt hug. I could not help myself, and I cried. My father to whom I was a virtual slave and afterthought, was now beginning to see me…well in a new light…

‘You’re so beautiful...’ Mass muttered and then he stepped back looked up at me and shouted: ‘...GLORIOUS! Yes…yes…but we can’t just call you glorious…we need a Terran name…yes…Gloria…I re-name you: Gloria.’

And that was my first name until leaving…and then arriving back in this Space-Time-line…but you know that story.

“Wow Dys…” Taylor smiled back understandingly “…what a childhood.”

“I suppose…” Alora said, noting that she had recalled the story and the emotions that went with it; she wiped the tear flowing down her cheek:

“…its history now and I have since forgiven Mass, Dad, for his early indifference…along with my siblings. They are what they are, and I am what I am.”

“And let me guess…” Taylor inquired:

“…you took ‘Dys’ as a sir name…not to continue to punish yourself…or your father…but to celebrate what you were and what you’ve become?”

The exotic and very beautiful Ferengi-human hybrid smiled back in acknowledgment at her fellow Science Officer and then she said as she stood up:

“Off to the mines. See you ‘round Taylor.”

End