Seventeen Year Itch

Woman with permission of Ironwolves
Beetle & Background: Shelldevil

The worst thing for any young person is to be left behind even if it's something terrible. Being the only one left unchanged of all her friends after the Change of Life virus had run its course was something Claire had a great deal of trouble dealing with. After the first five years and the flurry of transformations that had hit the entire world, Claire had watched her circle of friends dwindle. She'd lost touch with them all as each had started their changes, been quarantined, finished becoming whatever the virus had distorted them into and been shipped off to whatever new community the government felt they'd best fit into. With the collapse of much of the communications infrastructure, she couldn't even phone or e-mail them.

Now it wasn't all bad, of course. Being the only unchanged woman in a sea of men made her very popular and she liked that. But she missed talking to members of her own sex. The fun talks just simply didn't happen with the guys. They weren't as interested in talk as in action. She'd decided she wasn't going to start playing the field simply because she was the only one left. Some guys resented that fact but she held the upper hand now. If she shunned a guy and he even thought to retaliate, there were easily a dozen guys more than willing to manhandle the miscreant into a different way of thinking.

Still she missed all her old girlfriends.

It had been three years since the first two waves of the virus had first struck, and Claire was celebrating her seventeenth birthday. The guys were bringing lavish presents in hopes of winning her favours. The party had been going on for several hours and Claire was becoming tired. The guys though weren't interested in stopping. Fortunately, they'd hired a hall instead of having it at her apartment. So Claire slipped out on the pretext of going to the washroom, got into her car, and drove home. This simple act proved more difficult than she first thought though. Her car seats, usually so comfortable that she'd even slept in the car on long road trips, were uncomfortable tonight. It felt as if she were sitting on some kind of hard pan or something.

She made it home without incident and, with great relief, managed to make it to her apartment without any further male entanglements. She decided that she'd watch one of the remaining five TV channels (she missed the days of hundreds of channels). It was becoming harder to keep things running as half the population had changed and been whisked into the government's new resettlement programs. A good portion of the male population had taken the lack of women very hard and, for the first few years after the virus had first struck, the male suicide rate had soared. She plopped into her favourite chair and landed on the same uncomfortable pan that she'd suffered through during the entire car trip back to the apartment.

That this caused her some concern would be an understatement. A car seat becoming uncomfortable is one thing but, when every seat is equally uncomfortable, that was entirely different. She decided she'd best investigate. Stripping down, she went into her bedroom for a check. It didn't take long to find why everything was uncomfortable. She had a patch of shiny and very hard green skin that covered half her buttocks and spread up her back. It was strangely mottled and looked somewhat familiar but Claire simply couldn't put her finger on where she'd seen it before. She knew what she had to do and returned to her car. She drove to the nearest Quarantine station and dutifully reported herself to the Quarantine Authorities. Although the idea of changing into something else didn't really appeal to her, she did look forward to some girl talk. 'Maybe', she thought. 'I'll even see some of my old girlfriends again!'

She was escorted back to her apartment, followed by the van from the Quarantine Authority. She entered her apartment and soon heard the sounds of the Quarantine team as they nailed the bright yellow quarantine banner over her apartment door. A few minutes later, they left the first of what would be many supply packages outside her door. They rapped on the door. When she answered, they slid the Quarantine Instruction manual under the door and told her to retrieve her supplies. She did so and sat on her now uncomfortable TV chair to watch the uninteresting programs. She hated reruns but so little new was being made any more.

She half expected to suddenly become whatever the new form the virus was changing her into even though she knew that the change process would be a long one. She laughed at the thought of a magical transformation. She'd loved the fairy tales her Mom had read to her when she was small and missed her yet again. Her Mom had been among the many who couldn't face the change and had suicided as soon as the change had started rather than seeing it out. Dad, bless his heart, couldn't face living alone without his wife of over three decades and had expired quietly only three months after her death from poison. And Claire missed them both. She sat trying to keep the tears from coming. It would be so easy to end it all. The government wouldn't mind. In fact, part of the first package had been a suicide pill and instructions for its use. Something, though, kept Claire going. She couldn't take that path even though her current future path scared her.

Over the next few days, she documented her changes. The odd shiny skin soon covered her from her buttocks to her arms. Strangely, her legs remained absolutely normal. The skin, although stiff at first, soon hardened into a solid armour. The only bright side to all of it was that she no longer needed to wear anything. She'd always had trouble finding a bra that fit but now, with the hard armour supporting her, she felt comfortable for the first time since a puberty that had started at twelve.

Two days later, the first of many changes struck. She began to feel strangely cramped, like she'd eaten way too much. She'd been following the rations manual closely because she well knew that they'd not drop another package until the following week even if she used this one up. She squirmed a bit as she sat on the chair. She did her best to ignore the discomfort but it wasn't easy. About halfway through the program, though, she heard a sharp pop and felt cold in the middle of her back. She'd always been supple so she reached around to feel the cold spot. Her armour had developed a crack! She sat a moment wondering what was happening. Then decided to record the occurrence before reporting it. As she got up to get her log book and pen, the feeling of cold spread further. She investigated and discovered a crack running from her neck to her tailbone. The armour was definitely coming off. It didn't take long for it to crack in other places and she soon found herself in possession of a body mould of herself in green chitin.

Her body meanwhile was expanding and she felt dizzy. When the nausea had passed, she made a quick assessment of herself in the hall mirror. She discovered herself covered once more in a soft green armour. This quickly hardened, though, and she found herself once more in her hard armour shell. There were definite changes though. She was wider now and her waist had expanded. Along her tummy, were six little bumps in the same green armour as the rest of her body. She was starting to develop a fine fur along her harms as well. She noticed, too, that she had a small pointed tail.

This became the pattern of her life. Nothing would change for a few days, then she'd crack out of her shell and her body would be slightly different in form. It didn't take very many moults for her waist to disappear. Each moult, too, increased the size of her tail. The little nubs at her tummy grew, too. With each moult they were longer and soon had segments. She found it increasingly difficult to walk as well. Her legs were becoming emaciated as the muscles and bones were being used to fuel changes elsewhere in her body. She requested and soon had delivered crutches so she could continue to get around.

About four weeks into her changes, she no longer looked terribly human at all any more. Her waist had long since disappeared, becoming part of the wide thorax of some kind of bug or other. The tail had become large, as wide as her thorax but tapering down to a point. She still couldn't figure out what she was becoming other than it was some kind of bug. Still, she gamely struggled on, using the crutches to get around even though the legs she was growing were clearly longer than her own legs. Somehow, she couldn't bear to use the new legs because that would be giving in to the change and she didn't want to be a bug.

Eventually though, she had no choice. Her legs, after her latest moult, had shrunk to the point where they were too small and weak to lift her even with the aide of the crutches. She'd thought of requesting a wheelchair but quickly realized that she'd not be able to sit in one anyway. Besides, she'd slowly learned how to move the insect legs and they were more than strong enough to get around with. Getting used to the peculiar gait of an insect proved difficult though. At first, it was all she could do to move one leg at a time. Soon, though, continued use improved her coordination and she found scuttling about on her stomach far easier.

Her next moult took her by surprise, though. Her face, until that point untouched by change, became part of the change. As she removed her latest moult and packed it in the supply box for disposal the next time the Quarantine team dropped supplies, she discovered that a thin layer of her skin had come loose with it. Her skin around her eyes and across her forehead had become stiffer and was very much harder to move. Each moult now began to affect her face as well. A pair of bumps developed on her forehead. Moult after moult, these elongated and soon she sported a pair of antennae.

Four months after starting her changes, she began to notice it was becoming harder to open her eyes in the morning. It wasn't sleep that prevented her eyes opening. Rather, her eyelids were becoming hard. Soon, Claire was forced to feel her way about to do her daily chores as her eyes would not open at all. This was a worse shock, in many ways, that all the rest of the changes. Becoming a bug, as hideous as that was, was bad enough but to go blind as well ... it was almost enough for Claire to use the suicide pill. She sat, depressed, listening to the TV (for she could no longer see it).

Her sight returned after the next moult though. A great section of her face chitin pealed back revealing green faceted insect eyes. Though the view wasn't quite the same as her own eyes had been, they were serviceable and her depression passed. Something told her she was nearly finished her changes and she was correct. The next (and penultimate) moult revealed a pair of stubby wings. Her final moult left her with wide shiny wings under hard outer coverings. She knew, without being told, that the virus was finished with her.

After waiting another week to be sure, she reported the fact to the Quarantine Team on their next run. They quickly arranged for her transport to a town in the prairies. As she didn't quite fit into a regular seat, she wasn't surprised to end up riding in the back of a transport plane. At one time these behemoths had been used to transport troops. Now, modified by internal structures to support several layers of inhabitants, she and over twenty others in various forms were herded aboard and lashed down. The flight lasted only a couple of hours in Claire's case. When the plane landed, she disembarked and scuttled over to the shade  of the only building on the runway.

"Claire!" a happy voice squealed. Claire turned to meet the newcomer who'd just exited the building. "It's me! Trish."
"Trish!" An equally happy Claire replied. Trish and she had been best friends throughout school and had been parted when she'd begun changing. Claire looked over the shiny black beetle that was her friend. "Love your new outfit!" she bubbled.