Ms. Novacek gave me a sympathetic glance when Mom ignored what I’d said about my name and pronouns.

Author's Note: We are about halfway done with the first story written for this trilogy, word-count-wise. I had written this as a teaser of the second story, the prequel. I hope you enjoy this foresight into how the supergroup had formed, and get a laugh or three out of this chapter. In any case, thank you for reading.

Since the prospect of getting my new body had come closer, my intermittent dysphoria had gotten worse.

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Chapter 11
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A door swung open into a lounge full of so-called gentlemen of the early nineteenth century. A succubus named Phoebe entered wearing only a collar, a corset, and a see-through gown. She would feast. Tomorrow, she would shower in gifts worthy of a goddess. These men, however, saw her as nothing more than their entertainment for the night. It was a gangbang, and she loved it. The men, once touched, thought nothing of their comrades disappearing.

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Chapter 09
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Ohm Wire awoke with a wince. Her head hurt. Her costume was a tattered mess. Her memories slowly flowed back in.

Wait a minute, where am I? What happened to David?

As she got up, Ohm Wire felt the scraps of tattered cloth hanging from her body. She was otherwise still in one piece, though she could feel remnants of everything that had happened. No, it wasn’t a dream. It was too real to have been one.

The wax was gone from her breasts, but she could still feel it. Smell it.

It was early September — far enough into the school year that the teachers weren’t holding back on the homework, early enough that we still had some pretty nice weather. Which I was missing out on because I was sitting in my room doing homework, that Saturday morning when the world changed and only a few scattered people noticed.

After a long hiatus, a group of eccentric superheroes reunite in Paragon City. Some changes take a long time to happen, some are sudden, some are more permanent, and one of the heroes is about to find out how true that is. It is a story of change and redemption.

“Pledge!” I called out to Cassandra from across the room. She was one of the few remaining pledges, and I had to get in all the fun I could. She looked up, staring at me from across the crowded living room and then made her way over, weaving through a line of dancing bodies belonging to both DAM and GAT members. I grinned a bit, noticing her discomfort at the entire situation. She probably wasn’t one for social settings; probably shouldn’t have joined a sorority then. As she neared, I pointed to the empty glass in my hand, rattling the half-melted ice cubes. “My glass is empty, pledge.”

“So,” Ms. Trace said, folding her hands atop the conference table as she regarded us smugly. “You’re telling me that after all of this, you’re not unable to produce Audrey, you’re just unwilling.”

“Correct,” Aleah nodded.

“She’s going through a lot right now,” I added. “If the chapter can’t stand on its own, without her, then so be it.”

“Mason, open the door,” I cop-knocked against his dorm room door as hard as I could. “God dammit, Mason-“

Before I could finish my sentence, the door flew open and a rather annoyed looking Mason appeared in the entryway. He was dressed in a worn green bathrobe atop a white t-shirt, and his hair looked as if it had just gone through a blender.

“The fuck do you want?” He demanded.

“Mason,” I frowned. “Why are you asleep right now? It’s like seven-thirty in the evening.”

“Hamburger, soup, or what the fuck do you want?” I asked the next man in line, an older guy in a scally cap with a worn army jacket. He glared back at me.

“Young lady, you need to work on your attitude,” He lectured me.

“You need to work on your fashion choices,” I said, gesturing to his outfit ensemble. “Soup or burger?”

“I’ll take the fucking burger,” He growled. I reached into the pan on my left and slapped a hamburger onto a plate, handing it to him.

“Don’t you think you ought to wear gloves?” The man asked me, glaring at me intently.

“So according to Melissa, we’re meeting her here and she’s giving us a spare key to the theater,” Aleah informed as she turned left into a parking lot behind what looked like the shadiest building in the city. That’s a lot coming from me, by the way. Woodcrest had seen its fair share of ‘shady’ buildings, with one of my favorites being an old record store that housed a pallet of cocaine in the back room. I guess at some point the police realized that a vinyl record store was a little bit out of place in a college town. I wondered what kind of drugs this shithole was hiding.

I heard two loud mechanical ‘thuds’ as Aleah threw the van into gear and rumbled down the GAT driveway. As we emerged onto the street I cast a wayward glance at Leina who was busying herself with her phone. I glanced at the screen silently but couldn’t make out what she was doing. I shrugged and looked toward the window, observing the world as it blew by.

“Do you want to ask me something?” Leina asked. I looked back, she’d set her phone on her lap, hands crossed over it, her gaze fixed directly on me.

Stepping over to the table where Leina, Aleah, Courtney, and Lauren sat, I dropped a thick folder onto the surface and opened the cover.

The Fields of Identity have no Monocultures just Endless Varieties of Wild Flowers

LGBT+ themes running through a tale in which DNA resequencing and mental repsyching are the norm for a secretive hightech group that hides in plain view.

This is a story of technology pirates, revenge and redemption, and someone caught in the middle. "John Smith" is a technology wunderkind, and the owner, head and chief innovator for the Naismith conglomerate, which includes Azimuth, Inc., or AI, the conglomerate's main thinktank and world leader in computer-based animation.

In an attack by the Yellow Dragon Syndicate, he puts his life on the line to safeguard AI's world-changing tech from these criminals, and only through the use of this tech is his life saved.

But the use of this tech also had far reaching consequences, to Johnny and the world.