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Altered Fates: Faith
by Morpheus
Contact the author at morpheus@phuze.com
Other Stories by Morpheus
It was late in the afternoon, and Father Christopher wiped the sweat from his brow, and straightened his collar. Opening his bible, he started reading aloud to the several homeless people standing around. Some of them listened intently, while others ignored him, focusing instead on the blankets and food that he'd brought.
As he finished, Father Christopher closed his bible, feeling a little tired. He was in his late 50's and not as young or healthy as he used to be, but he still felt that he had a lot of good to do for people. And he still served God as best he could.
Looking at the tired, dirty people who were unfortunate enough to have no homes, Father Christopher thanked the Lord for his good fortune. Though he'd had doubts every now and then, as did everyone, he still felt that he was making a difference, and giving hope and comfort to those he could.
Tiredly, he bent over, talking with an old homeless woman, Annie May as she was called on the streets. He listened to her tell him about her lovely daughter, whom she hadn't seen in years, and how she'd lost everything when her husband died. Sadly, he knew too many stories like these, and told her that faith in the Lord could help comfort her.
After another hour talking with Annie, she smiled at him, thanking him for his spending time with her. "Here" she said, digging through a bag next to her, and pulled out something. She rubbed it on her dirty shirt, then proudly held it out to him. "Take this as my thanks" Taking it in his hand, Father Christopher saw that it was some kind of medallion. He smiled, seeing an angel on it. Not wanting to turn down such a heart felt gift, Father Christopher thanked Annie again, and hugged her, saying good by. The medallion obviously looked like cheap jewelry, but Christopher knew that Annie didn't have much, so that this was a particularly nice gesture.
Looking at his watch, Christopher realized that it was getting late. Saying goodbye to Annie, Ugly Charles, the fat man in the corner, and The Bird, a skinny old man, as well as the others, he started heading back to the church.
Father Christopher listened humbly as Father Atkins said grace and when that was finished, he looked down the table at the slender Father Gregor, the rotund Father Joseph, and the young Father Paul, as well as the dozen or so nuns. Smiling, he took his first bite into the humble meal, sadly thinking of how many people were without even such humble food as this.
After evening prayer, Father Christopher slowly walked towards his quarters, ignoring the arthritic pain in his hip that stabbed through him at each step. Slowly, he closed the heavy door to his chamber, and relieved that he wouldn't have to walk any more until the next day.
Sadly, he thought, for the thousandth time, that he wasn't getting any younger. He knew that it was the nature of things, and that he was only closer to the day he'd join God in the glorious hereafter, but he still had so much he wanted to do here. So many people that needed help, and he felt guilty that he didn't have the strength to do more. "God will provide" he reminded himself as he started getting ready for bed.
As he was undressing, Father Christopher, found the medallion in his pocket, and smiled. He'd forgotten about it after he'd slipped it into his pocket on the walk back to the church. Holding it up, he looked again at the picture of the Angel, then gently set it down on his desk before saying his final prayers for the night.
The next day, Father Christopher woke up, and seeing the medallion, slipped it over his head, smiling at the kindness and generosity Annie May had shown him. Ignoring the aching in his hips and back, he got ready to begin his day.
At lunchtime, Father Christopher was once again bringing sandwiches to some of the homeless, and reading them some scripture, offering what comfort he could to them, and reminding them that God still loved them and that they needed to keep hope and faith.
Slowly, Father Christopher made his way around the back streets, giving aid where he could. As Christopher made his way away from some of the mainly populated areas, he began to worry a little about his safety, but reminded himself that the Lord would protect him. Suddenly, he stopped, seeing someone lying on the ground bleeding.
"Oh no" he muttered, hurried to her side, seeing that it was a girl who looked around 19 or 20, and by clothes and heavy makeup, was most likely a prostitute. Hurrying, Father Christopher bent over her, checking to see that yes she was still alive. "I"ll call for an ambulance" he told the girl, seeing her eyes were half open, and he began to move away, looking for somewhere he could make a call.
"Wait" he heard her gasp, "please. Father.." Her voice didn't sound good. Far too weak. Christopher was caught for a moment, unable to decide on what was more important, getting her medical attention when she was obviously near death, and it probably wouldn't arrive in time, or giving her comfort during her last few moments on Earth.
Christopher winced, suddenly reminded of his hip, and how much it was slowing him down, and went to her side, and prayed over her quickly, hoping that he could still get some help quickly, but knowing in his heart that he was too slow, and this girl was too far gone. As she lay dying, Father Christopher bent over to give her a hug and comfort her, not noticing as the medallion touched her shirt.
Getting up, Father Christopher started walking again, looking back nervously. He thought she was dead, but he couldn't be sure, and knew that he'd have to call for help.
Once again, Christopher stopped, this time because something wasn't right. He wasn't sure what it was, but he knew that something was wrong with him, that he didn't feel normal. His clothes weren't quite fitting right.
Looking back at the girl, Father Christopher was saddened at the loss, seeing a young woman with so much potential lost, and he couldn't help himself but started crying. Though he'd seen it before, it never ceased to sadden him when a life was cut short, denied its promise and potential.
After a little while, Christopher stopped, realizing that his shirt was too tight in the chest. He rubbed it, feeling something soft inside. Startled, he noticed his hands, how younger they looked. He could only stare at his hands, realizing that he could feel his body slowly changing.
In several minutes, his clothes became too tight in places for him to wear, and he had to take them off, leaving him feeling extremely embarrassed about standing around nude. In shock, he noticed his body, seeing how hairless he was, and how his chest pushed out in two soft mounds. With realization, he realized that somehow, he was becoming a woman. Horrified, he could think of nothing to do but watch.
He wondered why God had forsaken him, and if this was Satan's doing, crying into his own hands. Finally, it seemed to have stopped, and he looked between his legs, seeing that indeed, he was now a woman, and seemed to be completely so.
Christopher felt greatly embarrassed seeing so much naked female flesh, even if it was his own. Even more embarrassed that it was his own. He fell to his knees, praying for some explanation. When none came, he reluctantly stood up, realizing that he was now a naked woman standing in an alley. That wasn't a good idea he decided, and reluctantly took the clothes from the dead woman, apologizing to her for his stealing from her.
As he was pulling the clothes off, he felt his breasts giggle around, and thought how uncomfortable that was. Trying to stop the giggling, he put his hands to the breasts to hold them. He felt his nipples pushing into his palms and was surprised at how sensitive they felt. They started getting harder as he touched them, feeling good. Startled, he realized that he was feeling a little wet between his legs, and all tense.
Without realizing it, he started rubbing himself, amazed at the sensations he was feeling. He kept at if for several minutes, as his body demanded attention. Suddenly, he realized what he was doing, and forced himself to turn away from the temptation his body was offering him. With great effort, he ignored his body's demands and put on the clothes.
He felt ashamed to wear such clothes, since they showed off far too much flesh, and made him look like a prostitute. Realizing that the clothes fit him perfectly, he grabbed his hair and held it in front of him, noticing that it was exactly the same brunette shade as the dead woman's. Somehow, he realized, he had become a copy of that dead woman.
In confusion, he wondered what he was going to do, and looked upward, asking the Lord for guidance, and at the same time, why he was being punished. As he turned around, it dawned on Christopher that his hip didn't hurt.
Stopping, he put a hand to his hip, amazed. He jumped up and down, not feeling any pain in his joints, which he had grown so used to. The breasts felt uncomfortable with the bouncing, but he didn't hurt.
Smiling, he looked upwards, realizing that maybe this wasn't punishment. He was young and healthy, without the pain that had plagued him. He'd been given another chance at life, and more time to carry on the Lords work. He felt a momentary pang of regret that his entry into Heaven would be delayed, but the idea of being able to continue helping people, and doing what he loved warmed his heard. Still looking upward, he thanked God, his faith stronger than ever before.
The church was saddened at the disappearance of Father Christopher, fearing that ill will had befallen him on his daily rounds for once, and they grieved for a week. However, their grief was eased and shortened by their newest member, Sister Christine, who had mysteriously shown up and joined them. Her faith and desire to help the homeless gave them all the strength to overcome their grief and carry on with Father Christopher's works.
The End
Contact the author at morpheus@phuze.com
Other Stories by Morpheus
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