Me, I morphed into a giant reptilian creature. I was exactly like Godzilla, except that I also had a combination of the best qualities of the world’s lizards. My skin was thorny and I had long claws on my hands and feet. My tongue was bright blue. As I began my rampage, a giant orange frill of skin flared out dramatically around my neck. I had chosen to attack the leafy eastern suburbs of Melbourne. This was the neighbourhood that I grew up in and now I stomped around its streets, destroying shopping centres, sporting clubs and scout halls while residents screamed in horror. It didn’t take long for the government to send the military after me, but I easily destroyed their tanks and fighter jets. My skin then changed colour until it was the same pale blue as the sky above me, and I continued my attack, stepping on libraries, prestigious private schools and well-kept gardens.

     That night, I wandered through the locality, staring at the suburban streets below me. Due to my rampage, these streets were deserted. But I was not wandering aimlessly: I had decided to visit my mother. I took a deep breath and walked to her house. I saw the kitchen light on and I knew that she was home but, as I towered over her house, I felt too afraid to call out to her – I knew she wouldn’t be happy to see me like this. I watched her house for a little while but eventually I decided to leave. I was too hungry anyway – I had been wreaking destruction for hours and had not eaten anything. Then I noticed the many neat rows of bok choy and choy sum in my mother’s big vegetable garden. As well as being a brilliant gardener, my mother always loved it when I enjoyed her food. Stooping over the house, I tried to be very quiet as I ate her vegetable garden. I ate everything until all that was left was a hole in the ground. However, it didn’t taste as good as I thought it would. After I had finished eating my meal, I looked down at what remained of her vegetable garden, and I noticed some blue pellets strewn about. It was then that I remembered how much my mother detested the snails and slugs that ate the plants in her garden – and how she regularly used large doses of snail and slug killer. Half an hour later, I was vomiting all over the municipality of my childhood. Dogs barked in panic. Residents screamed abuse at me as my vomit rained down on their houses. After I had finished, I looked down at the mess I had made and I stomped away in shame. Like Godzilla after a rampage, I was returning to where I lived – not an island, though, but my house on the other side of town. And, like any escaping skink, I was leaving my tail behind.

     The next morning, I decided that I needed to change for the better. After some consideration, I morphed into a teen doctor. I became a young man so clever that I got a medical degree when I was fourteen. I began working as a surgeon in a hospital but, despite my brilliance as a surgeon, I still struggled with the many issues that teenagers typically face – body changes brought on by puberty, maintaining friendships with other teenagers, a developing sexual identity, etc. I soon realised that the combination of being a surgeon and a teenager was much more challenging than I had anticipated. But things didn’t stay this way for long. A couple of weeks later, my Auntie Wei came over to my house. We had lunch together. Later, as we were sitting on my sofa, she turned to me and smiled, and then she carefully folded me into the shape of a sailboat. I had forgotten that Auntie Wei had recently become interested in origami.
     I didn’t last long as a sailboat though. A week later, I morphed into a robot that could morph into a blue and white Ford Bronco 4x4 and from this Ford Bronco back to a robot again. That night, I went to dinner with some friends. I decided to go to the restaurant in my form as a robot. I was still Chinese though. In fact, at the end of the night, when my friends began hugging each other goodbye, I morphed again – I grew spikes and curled up like an anteater so that no one could hug me goodbye. I generally do not like being hugged, much like others in my family. My grandmother also grows spikes and curls up into a ball every Christmas. I was ready to leave but then a few of my friends suggested that we all go clubbing, so I morphed into a blonde sixteen-year-old girl with sparkling aquamarine eyes and a perfect size six figure. However, once we got to the club, the security staff refused to let me in because I was only sixteen. I tried to flirt with them to win them over but all I discovered was that not many people use terms like pash or will you go with me anymore. It turned out that, not only were my schoolyard flirtation techniques from 1984 somewhat outdated, but I had been reading too many Sweet Valley High teen romance books as well. In the end, I gained entry into the club by morphing into Heather Locklear. I was still Chinese though – I was a Chinese version of Heather Locklear. I spent an hour or so at the club but, even though I soon became very popular, I knew that it wasn’t my scene. I told my friends that I was leaving and then I grew some spikes again and I took the last tram home.
     Back at my house, I stood in my lounge room and reflected on all of the events of the last few weeks. In particular, I thought about morphing. As I looked down at myself and the form I was currently in – a Chinese version of Heather Locklear with some spikes – I wondered if I should reconsider my approach to morphing. According to various myths and popular stories, morphing is sometimes accomplished via touch: ‘whatever you touch, you become’. I picked up my television remote control and I thought about that idea for a moment. I hadn’t realised that morphing could be so tactile, but maybe that was what I needed to incorporate better into my morphing: touching.
     At any rate, as I switched on the television, I felt certain of at least one thing: sometimes, morphing is tiring. This was why I decided that, for now, the morphing rule could be changed to ‘whatever you watch, you become’. So it was no wonder that, as I relaxed by watching some random early-morning TV programs, I began to morph into a kind of infomercial cyborg – half-human, half-home-fitness-system.

Look Who’s Morphing Too

There was a word processing operator who became part of a company restructure. There was a teenage basketballer who became a werewolf. There was an auntie who was possessed by a demon.
     Me, I morphed into Dr Quinn from the television show Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman, all ready for my lunch date that day with Tara. I thought that me becoming Dr Quinn would make me Tara’s ultimate sexual fantasy. After I had morphed into Dr Quinn, I looked at myself in my bathroom mirror and smiled with satisfaction at how pretty I looked. Although my blue dress was in the style of the American Wild West period and it was a bit boring, I still looked beautiful in every other respect. I especially liked my long and lustrous brown hair. Eventually, after I had finished looking at myself, I drove to the seafood restaurant where Tara and I were to have our date. When I walked into the restaurant, I saw that Tara was already waiting at a table for me. Smiling, I approached her. Naturally, she did not recognise me at first, but after a while I managed to explain to her who I was. Unfortunately, once Tara had absorbed the news that I had morphed into Dr Quinn, she was not as happy as I had hoped and in fact she declared that she could no longer be attracted to me. I said that I had a lot more than Dr Quinn in me and to prove it I morphed into John Gielgud, distinguished thespian and one of the greatest Shakespearean actors of all time. More precisely, I was a young Gielgud, and I was wearing the black princely robes of Gielgud’s costume from the 1934 West End production of Hamlet at the New Theatre. Tara cried out in recognition. She took a step towards me but I did not stay as Gielgud’s Hamlet for long. I wanted to show Tara more of my range so I morphed into the construction worker from The Village People. I had on a white hard hat and ripped, faded jeans. I grinned at her as I rolled up my shirtsleeves. Tara liked what she saw so she morphed into a man who was wearing a leather cap and leather jeans and I knew then that everything was going to be all right with us. We decided to skip lunch and instead drove straight to my place to have sex, me as the construction worker from The Village People and her as the man who was wearing a leather cap and leather jeans. We were already kissing each other frantically as I opened the front door. Tara wanted sex very badly. She told me that she had never done it with an Asian guy who had morphed into Dr Quinn from Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman, then into Gielgud’s Hamlet from the 1934 West End production at the New Theatre and then into the construction worker from The Village People before.
     However, as Tara clutched at my shirt while kissing me, I suddenly morphed again – or, more specifically, my desires morphed. I led Tara to my lounge room and I told her to lie down on the rug. I then lay beside her and kissed her roughly, slipping my hands under her white T-shirt. Tara liked what I was doing and soon she pushed my hands down to her leather jeans. As I unbuttoned her jeans, I told her about morphing. I said that, according to various myths and popular stories, morphing is sometimes accomplished via touch: ‘whatever you touch, you become’. Then I declared that I was going to show her some more of these myths and stories, and how powerfully they could work. Tara reached out to run her hand over the front of my tight workman’s shirt. Moaning into my ear, she told me that, although that sounded really hot and she was happy to do as much touching as possible, she was not in the mood to read any short story collections or books of mythology right now. However, I simply smiled at her and I reassured her that that was no problem because the myths and popular stories were also on television. Upon hearing this, Tara looked at me with great joy, and then even greater lust. I picked up my television remote control and I rolled on top of her. I felt her wrap her leather-clad legs around me. As I switched on the television, I told her that, for now, the morphing rule would be changed to ‘whatever you watch, you become’. So it was no wonder that, as Tara and I watched my favourite daytime television program while having sex, we soon morphed again, this time changing into Bo and Hope from Days of Our Lives.

Look Who’s Morphing Now

There was a telemarketer who shape-shifted into a blood-sucking aristocrat one London night. There was a Chinese woman who got a perm. There was a sea sponge that, over millions of years, developed into a human.
     Me, I migrated to Australia with my parents and my brother, and I immediately began morphing into various celebrities. On my very first day in Australia, I decided to morph into Barbra Streisand. The next morning, while eating breakfast with my family, I surprised them by morphing into Richard Simmons. I lived as Richard Simmons for a week but I realised that being a fitness celebrity just wasn’t me, so I morphed into Princess Diana. By this stage, I had become more aware of the difficulties of adjusting to a new life in Australia, so I decided to stay as Princess Diana for a while – if only so that I could have some stability. But, a few days later, I changed my mind and became Liberace. Not everyone approved of my morphing. In fact, when I started morphing, some people said that it was a shame that I had become so westernised and that I should do more to retain my culture. As a result of these comments, my parents enrolled me in a language school that ran Cantonese lessons every Saturday morning. As Liberace, I would arrive at the language school each week in my glittering Volkswagen Beetle with a customised Rolls-Royce hood. Before class began, I would take off my cape with a flourish and a stagehand would put the cape in my Beetle. The stagehand would then drive the Beetle away with my cape in it and return to put the cape on me at the conclusion of each lesson. I would say a few parting words to my classmates and teacher in Cantonese, and be driven away. After a few weeks of this, I became the most popular person in my class and even my parents were moderately pleased with my success at the language school.
     However, despite my success at my Cantonese lessons, my parents had another concern. My brother Hank had adjusted to our family’s migration to Australia in a different way to me. He was morphing into members of bands like Mötley Crüe, KISS and Poison. Although his appearance changed greatly as a result, it was not his long, teased hair nor his very tight denim jeans nor his heavy use of stage make-up that concerned my parents. Instead, my parents had begun to worry about the debauched lifestyle that he was leading. He was staying out all night to indulge in sexual promiscuity, substance abuse, fights with his band mates and property damage. My parents declared that, even though immigration to a vastly different country was a major change for any person, Hank had taken the idea of morphing much too far.
     One afternoon, Hank came home as usual, and my parents and I noticed straight away that he had morphed again. He had left the house that morning as Bon Scott from AC/DC but now he looked different. He was shirtless and wearing leather pants and a top hat. His hair was long and curly and he was smoking a cigarette. He mumbled a hello to us and then walked straight into his bedroom. My parents turned to me and asked who Hank was supposed to be. I identified him as Slash, the former lead guitarist of Guns N’ Roses. At that point, my parents walked straight into Hank’s room and angrily told him that they did not like the directions in which his life was going. An argument occurred but, after a while, I stepped in and dealt with the situation. I assured my parents that Hank’s morphing was not so unusual. In fact, I told them that, in Australia, Hank’s morphing could possibly be considered normal behaviour for a young male. This knowledge gladdened my parents somewhat and they even apologised to Hank for entering his room uninvited and we all smiled at each other in relief. We then decided to enjoy a nice family dinner together.
     While my mother and Hank prepared the dinner, my father and I had a chat on the sofa in the lounge room. As my father handed me a beer, he confessed to me that, while it was reassuring to know that Hank was mostly normal and that I was doing well in my Cantonese lessons, all of this morphing was making life a lot more difficult for our family. He said that he would feel much better about the morphing if it didn’t have to make things quite so stressful and uncertain. In response, I told my father that I too had been thinking about morphing. I said that, according to various myths and popular stories, morphing is sometimes accomplished via touch: ‘whatever you touch, you become’. At first, my father seemed fascinated by this information. Then he looked warily at the tuxedo suit I was wearing. It was a classic Liberace outfit – a rhinestone-studded suit with designs of piano keyboards glittering on the wide jacket lapels. He asked me if touching my jacket would turn him into Liberace, but I shook my head and said it was unlikely. I declared that, as quick and easy as that particular process of morphing seemed, the majority of these myths and stories ultimately suggested that morphing was difficult and complex. In particular, the morphing that occurred in these tales sometimes resulted in further, unexpected changes – not only for the person who morphed but also for those they cared about most. Upon hearing this news, my father looked pained. When I saw the look on his face, I felt sad myself. I told him that if it was any consolation, the Greco-Roman gods and their associates had far more troubling issues with morphing than our family was currently having. I went on to relate the tale of Marsyas, who was part-man, part-goat. One day, Marsyas challenged the god Apollo to a flute-playing contest, but he lost. Afterwards, the victorious Apollo sought to punish Marsyas for his hubris in challenging a god, so he killed Marsyas by skinning him alive. Upon hearing this story, my father looked horrified. But then I told him that, although Marsyas’ passage into death was dramatic and brutal, perhaps the most significant act of morphing occurred afterwards, when Marsyas’ family and friends wept over his death. They wept so long and hard that their tears drenched the earth. At first, these tears formed a little stream, but eventually they transformed into a river. After he had heard this, my father did not say anything. He just looked sadder than ever. When I saw my father’s face, I didn’t feel like doing any more story-telling. For a moment, he and I simply looked at each other. Although my father and I have rarely showed any affection towards each other, I decided to reach out to him. As I touched his shoulder in sympathy, I felt something within me change: I came to a new conclusion about the morphing in our family. At that point, my mother and Hank entered the room. They were carrying plates with our dinner served up – beef with black bean sauce using the traditional recipe that has been passed down from generation to generation within our family. My father got up from the sofa to take his usual place at the dining room table. Since our family had recently fallen into the habit of eating dinner with the television on, I picked up the television remote control from the coffee table. As I did this, I thought about the new conclusion that I had come to: although morphing – and its associated difficulties – was inevitable in our family, if I could make things easier for them for even a brief period, that had to be better than nothing. Feeling a little better, I joined my family at the dining table and we began to eat. As I switched on the television, I turned to my father and smiled at him. I said that I had decided that, for the next half hour, the morphing rule would be changed to ‘whatever you watch, you become’. So it was no wonder that, as we watched repeats of our favourite family television show, we all morphed together. Eating our perfect family dinner, we happily changed into the family from The Cosby Show.