FSE

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The lone house that hosted the Reimond family throughout the latter portion of their impoverished lives was no more. In its place stood what one could claim to be half-barn, half-bungalow; all kinds of odd. To accommodate the increased height of its future occupants the entire second floor of the old house had been transferred to several side structures. That included Tommy's room, and the teen had to begrudgingly make do with camping outside in a tent for several nights while Carl sorted out that whole mess.

The doors, windows, and all manner of household equipment had to be moved about, modified or just straight-up rebuilt in anticipation of the hybrids. The grounds – as one called them – were extended with barns, silos, sheds...you name it. If it had something to do with farming you bet your ass it was there. Save for tractors or other motor vehicles, they were conspicuously absent. Almost as if they weren't needed. As if its returning residents were their own beasts of burden...

* * *

Tommy sat quietly by his bedside in the slant-roofed antechamber he now called his bedroom. A schoolbook of world history in his palms. Stress from his parent's extended leave was, on its own, enough to handle, now he would have to contend with the genetic alterations they were subject to, and how he (and they) would react to this new life. What on Earth could they be like now? Relatively normal? Monsters? Worse?

Reading maintained a level of calm he was grateful to still have. Additionally, his education was a useful distraction. Being absent from the house seven hours a day — at least — broke up the boredom. Even if it was school, the bane of every kid 'cross all of time.

Tomorrow was the big day. His parents were coming home. To what kind of home, you ask? Tommy wasn't sure quite how to describe what has become of their formerly run-down dwelling to anyone, let alone two...cow-people? 'Moo-mans'?

Ugh, not going to remember anything more . He put down his book. Might as well go for a walk.

Carl was working on the far side, maybe he'd be up for a chat.

* * *

“God-fucking-dammit...God...fuck!"

A stream of expletives punctuated a silent Sunday afternoon as Carl waved an injured hand up-and-down.

“Fucking hammer!"

He hurled this most hated instrument across the field in a rage, thumb still sorely swollen from its unprovoked attack. The hammer landed with a thunk in a ditch, striking a piece of leftover wood.

“Son of a cock!"

Any more curses were stopped in their tracks as he sucked on his suffering digit. That was the last time he'd hammer nails the old-fashioned way. Why Ms. Cain didn't sign off on better carpenter's tools he could not say. Oh wait, he could. Duh. The project's dire financial straits. It's why he's been the only person on-site actually doing any of the construction!

Okay...not the only person exactly...but Mike worked part-time Tuesdays and Wednesdays. And liked to call in sick whenever Carl needed a real hand. Fuck Mike.

* * *

Ten minutes after leaving his bedroom, Tommy could see Carl working on the far side of the field. He was about to call ahead, but the noise of an incoming vehicle forced a change of plans.

Who's that, I wonder?

Heading back in the direction of the sound, Tommy soon came face-to-face with Ms. Cain and another man. They spoke briefly, exchanging greetings and making small talk, before he directed them towards Carl at work. With a curt “thank you" the two left the boy and went to see Mr. Redweather.

* * *

“So, how's the farm coming?" Lacey asked her annoyed-looking assistant.

“Fine."

“Are we interrupting anything?" Frank interjected.

“Yeah kinda...I...no, no. I'm calling it a day now," he said, still massaging an injured thumb, “won't get much joining done with this."

“Always a workaholic. It takes a wound to pull you away from the job, eh Carl?"

“What's up then?"

Lacey supplied Carl with a report on the latest progress of her gene programme, with Frank stepping in to provide the technical details every now-and-then. He'd heard beforehand of the success of the Reimond's transformation, but rifling through pictures really drove home what they'd gone and done.

“Dear God."

“I know right. Cool isn't it?"

“Don't know if I'd call it cool, per se. Explains the dimensions you sent me for the housing, however..."

The conversation then switched gears to discussing the return of the hybrid couple. Lacey would accompany them home alongside Carl, leaving Frank to finalise the report to head office. Carl provided his thoughts on how best to help Tommy adjust, as well as get Eric and Sandra settled into their new routine.

* * *

Another day passed. Tommy had been counting them. Awaiting the return of his parents. He'd only spoken to Lacey and Carl these past few days...his parent's voices would be an all-too-welcome sound. Lacey had informed him of their new appearances and that it may take time for the shock of their looks to wear away. He steeled himself just in case, an uneasy feeling deep inside.

The van used before to transport his parents to the lab drove up the forested path of their extended farmlands, coming to a halt at the renovated house. Lacey exited the passenger seat and walked to the rear of the vehicle. She opened the doors as Tommy watched from the entryway.

Out hopped two great, thundering beasts. Half-human, half-bovine. His parents. They landed on their feet with a thud, shaking the earth with their sheer mass, wearing roughly-fashioned garments covering their embarrassing parts. His mother: a loincloth and chest wrappings, failing to stop her large breasts from bobbing up-and-down, mesmerisingly, as she walked. His father: a loincloth only, barely containing his maleness. Clearly these were a stopgap measure!

As they got closer to the house they saw Tommy standing there. Frozen.

Eric spoke first, hoping to break the ice and remind Tommy they were still his mom and dad. To Tommy, his voice was much deeper, but it was unmistakably his father...

“Hello son. We're home."

“Moo!" his mother added delightedly.