Morgan tries to adjust

It was a couple hours later. All three of the Mason kids had taken large trash bags and filled them with all the clothes from their rooms. Martina had been able to fill hers herself, saying goodbye to her male self as she said goodbye to all her boyish shirts and jeans. Alice had helped Miranda and Morgan with theirs-- Miranda because she was still getting the hang of doing things with no hands, and Morgan because Alice just seemed to think Morgan needed help with everything now. The bags of clothes were clustered in the front hall now, waiting to be donated to charity.

Morgan was sitting on the floor of the family room, still wearing her diaper and nothing else. Her Mom had led her in here by the hand and sort of sat her down, as if this was normal. Before she left the room she said, "Now you be good dear, or I'll have to get you a playpen." Morgan hadn't known what to say to that. She didn't know what to do about any of this. She felt just the same on the inside, and other than the diaper and pigtails, she looked just the same too. So why was she being treated like a baby?

She looked down at her diaper, the only thing she was allowed to wear. She knew she didn't need it, and had no intention of using it, but her mother and the nurses at the Market all insisted that she wear it. She was still figuring all of this out, but she figured she'd better follow the rules. After all, her Mother now had complete authority over her, since she was legally a child. Not only that, but they'd discovered before leaving the Market that she was officially considered a newborn. If they never managed to buy back her adult status, she wouldn't regain it until 18 years from today. And only then would she start aging physically again, which was also strange to think about.

Suddenly her thoughts were interrupted by her Mother's voice. "Morgan dear," she called out, "You have company!"