Edited by Kristine Roland

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This text is (c) 2009 by Melanie. All rights reserved.

Special thanks to Julie O., from whose concepts of magic I have borrowed a little. No Julieverse characters appear in this story.
 
 
Nine

Someone was shaking me.

“Ron”, I heard, “wake up.”

I drifted in the space between sleep and waking, recapping the weird dream I had been having. Of turning into a woman. Kissing Stacy. Wearing panties. I smiled as the world drifted into focus. The afternoon son was shining into my bedroom window, and Stacy was here — Stacy was here? My eyes flew open and I looked at myself. It was no dream then, I was this woman! Memory returned, the last thing I remembered was Stacy wanting me to go outside. The thought terrified me, I thought people have to see what I am, what I'm not. People can't see me like that, I couldn't let them. They'd see right through me, I know they would! Faggot, they'd say, sissy faggot.

“Stacy”, I said, “this will never work!”

“Ron, what are you talking about,”, asked Stacy.

“This”, I said, pointing at myself, “I can't pull it off. People will know!”

“Now, how could they? Face it, your own mother wouldn't... uh-oh. Sorry, didn't want to bring this up.”

We were silent for a moment, then she started in again. “You know, you need a name.”

“I have a perfectly good one. It's even still under warranty,” I quipped. “But, I see what you're saying. I can hardly be 'Ron', looking like this. Ronnie... that would mean Veronica. I'm Veronica and this is my secret,” I had to giggle — since when did I giggle?

Stacy giggled with me and hugged me briefly. “Ok, Veronica, or Ronnie, is who you are now. And don't worry, no one can tell. Not from how you look. But from how you act, if you don't look out!” She continued, “And, young lady, we do have to go out now. I'm no stylist, I can't do your hair and it sure can't stay like this. That look has been gone since the seventies!”

I knew she was right, but I didn't know if I could face the world right now. I knew, without her and her acceptance of what had happened as fact, I wouldn't be where I am now. Not that I was anywhere, really. No ID. No history. No Job. No Money. No bank account. Well, I had my “Ron” account, with an ATM card and 2 credit cards. Which I couldn't really use face to face in a store now.

“Where are we going?”

“To see a stylist friend of mine at her shop,” I relaxed a little. A friend, at least it wasn't a total stranger. Well, not to me, anyway. We went downstairs and to Stacy's car. I got in the passenger seat and Stacy started driving south. After about 5 miles, she turned right and pulled over. This seemed to be an artsy neighborhood, somewhat bohemian but nice. We got out of the car and walked to the little hair salon sandwiched in between a laundromat and a small grocery store.

“Hi Debs,” called Stacy, “got you a new customer!”

Debs, that must have been that mop of red hair that was attacked to the petite bundle of energy that was whizzing in and out between the stylists positions, pushing a broom around to clear the floor of hair cuttings.

“Hi Stacy, good to see you!” She sang out, “Just set her down anywhere, I'm alone for the rest of the day, any spot will do!”

Stacy pointed towards the nearest chair and I sat down. I looked at the array of bottles and tubes that were neatly lined up on the shelves next to the large mirror, the hair drier in its holster on the wall, stacks and towels and a stack of magazines. Debbie joined Stacy and me and took a look at me, immediately noticing the state my hair was in. She ran her fingers through my hair, looked at the ends and the shape, or lack of it, in my hairdo, and stated “There is a story here, isn't there, Stacy?”
 
 
Ten
 
To her credit, Stacy didn't even try to lie. “Yes, but how?”

“This woman has hair halfway down her back. It takes 3 to 5 years to grow hair that long. There is no cut or style at all, and the hair is silky smooth, it's never been dyed, curled, permed, probably never even blow dried! She has hair like a girl of 11, or as if it had all grown overnight!”

“You're closer than you think. Sit down; you're not going to believe this!” Stacy said.

Debbie took a look around, got up and locked the shop door, flipping the sign to read “Closed”. She sat down at the station next to me and said “Spill!”

Stacy looked at me, then at Debbie. “OK, here goes. Pretty Veronica here was Ron, a 40 year old reporter, until 2 days ago. He has been changing, mostly in his sleep, and while I was watching, into this. This is as complete a change as you can imagine, there is nothing left of the old him. I have no idea how it happened, why it happened, or if it can be reversed.” She stopped to take a deep breath “I have been right there with her, she's cracked twice and I think if I hadn't been around she might be a statistic now.”

Debbie looked at me, her green eyes swept over my body from head to toe. I felt what I could describe as a not unpleasant tingle as she moved close to me. Debbie took hold of a stone pendant that was fixed to a string around her neck and stepped back.

She said, “I have a confession to make. I never told you because there was no need, but with this, I'm over my head. I'm a sorceress. Not a great one, I dabble. My family is Irish, and there was some Druidic or Celtic blood somewhere in our past. I have some powers, not to a great degree, but with amulets and bought spells, I can make some things happen. Like making customers notice my shop.”

She smiled and continued “I believe you. Every word of it. Veronica has been touched by very powerful magic and magic that has been crafted to be irreversible. At least not without killing the subject. Normally, this kind of protection is used on revenge or punishment spells, and some of those are pretty bad.”

She looked at our stunned faces and said, “This one seems to be rather tame, compared to some I have heard of. Some are quite nasty, evil things. She seems to just have had a transformation, with a few guards to make sure it stays on. She'll manage just fine, I'd say, if she can cope emotionally she's not in any magical danger. But, I'm going to have to report this.”

“Report,”, Stacy asked. “To whom?”

“The magical authorities”, Debbie replied.

“There is an entire system of investigators, courts and police to deal with misuse of magic. The magic part of the population has to protect itself against exposure to the nonmagical part, also, abuse of magic to control or hurt nonmagical humans and the use of banned spells can hurt us all. They may choose to contact you, or they may not.”

I was glad I hadn't brought up the other cases, I didn't want this taken out of my hands and if they knew the scale of it, that is what they would probably do.

“So, what was that tingle I felt when you came near me with your amulet?” I asked.

Debbie gasped and said “You felt that?! You're not supposed to be able, you're not magical! I can't feel you, you have no aura. Those of us with powers feel when others are near. I can't feel yours, so you can't have any.”

Debbie went to a small cabinet and unlocked it, and pulled out amulet made from filigree copper wires and amber and red stones. She came over and dangled the amulet near my body. After a few seconds, a couple of the amber stones began to glow, and one of the red ones also showed some lights. I looked at the amulet, and my mind seemed to be drawn in, I felt myself falling into it as my head came forward.

I didn't see it, but the amber stones had all lit up, and sparkles were dancing within the red ones while the entire amulet had begun to spin slowly. Debbie and Stacy looked on, fascinated, until I slumped down in the chair and passed out. The sparkles faded and the glow dimmed, as Debbie recovered and swiftly moved the amulet away.

“Damn!” she said, “I have never, ever seen a reaction this strong. I don't know what it means. I will need to make a call.”

She went to the back of the store and I heard her talking to someone, animatedly, then getting into what sounded like a heated argument.

“Yes, I told you.... NO I'm not mistaken, I'm not...............Dammit, NO. I'm not drunk, either. It's for real....... Yes, good, we'll wait”

She slammed down the handset and returned to the front of the shop. “Dammit, stupid boneheads. Thinking I'm seeing things, they are”, she muttered.

“Well, she said, I've been told to wait for someone who can look at this. I suggest that we do something about that hair while we wait, it'll be about 2 hours.”

Debbie took me by the hand and led me across the room to the basins, where she proceeded to wash and rinse my hair. She used at least 4 different bottles on my hair. When I was male, all I ever needed was one bottle of shampoo; things did seem to be much more complicated for women, even here.

Debbie wrapped a towel around my head and motioned me to follow her back to the stylist's station. Unwrapping my hair, she proceeded to brush it out and got out a pair of small scissors.

She said “I'm going to preserve as much of the length as I can. I'm going to layer it a tiny bit, trim the ends, shape it to a point in the back, trim back the sides a bit and add bangs. Then I'm going to add a soft wave to give it body and lift.”

Stacy said. “Sounds good to me.”

“Ok, I guess”, was my opinion.

Debbie set to work, trimming here, cutting there and combing my hair this way or that. At one point, she combed a lot of it, or so it seemed, forward over my face, then cut most of that off. She used some very large rollers and her blow drier to dry my hair and shaped the bangs over a round brush. Then, she fluffed my hair out and teased the bangs up, sprayed something into them and pronounced me done. I looked and I found my image vastly improved. Where there was the straight, shapeless hair of a hippie, I now saw a wavy mane of hair and curly bangs framing my face. Actually, I looked like a girl I would have tried to chat up, and that scared me. It scared me because I suddenly realized that there are many other guys out there who would chat ME up now. I didn't really fancy the idea of that!

Debbie offered coffee and cookies and we sat down at the table in her waiting area to talk. She told us a bit about the powers, and those who held them. Apparently, the bloodlines that held the power originated with the Celts and Druids and powers appeared in the females of some families descended from those bloodlines. Powers were usually dormant in males, if they did have the ability to use them it was usually very low level, or through the use of magical devices, charms, amulets, or magical symbols. The amulet she had used on me was a magic detector, which stones glowed, and how many, was indicative of the amount of power a person had, and the kind of power. The red stones only rarely show activity on people who had no magical training at all, which is why Debbie had been so shocked to see all of them become active when I concentrated on the amulet.

At this point, there was a knock on the door and Debbie went to look, and returned with another woman who also exhibited the same red hair and green eyes. She introduced her as Alyssa, and her profession as that of a magic “doctor”.

Alyssa was a pleasant woman who appeared to be about 28 years old, but radiated a wisdom and serenity that belied that. She had brought a folding masseur's table, which she set up with practiced ease and asked me to undress and lie down on it. My concerns about the undressing created some smiles, and I was told that I had nothing the others didn't have as well. I undressed and laid down on the table, and Alyssa began to pass crystals and amulets across my body, occasionally muttering phrases I couldn't understand.

Some of the amulets did nothing, some tingled or glowed, and at one point, one of her incantations made a floating symbol appear above my tummy, which faded again, quickly. During this time, she gave no explanations; nothing was said but her incantations as she worked. After what seemed like hours, but was really only 20 minutes, she was done and asked me to get up and get dressed. I still needed help with the bra, a fact not lost on Debbie and Alyssa.
 
 
Eleven
 
The four of us sat down at the table again, where Alyssa sketched out her findings for us.

“Ronni, you were very, very lucky. Whether you were lucky to have been transformed is another question, but it seems that in your case, a very fortuitous set of circumstances combined to make you what you are now.”

She shifted in her chair, her gaze seeming to become more intense, as she said “You come from one of the families of power. The males in your line have no power whatsoever, the females would hold great power, but they have renounced it a long time back and it has fallen into disuse and been forgotten.”

She continued, “Most of the females in your families were likely artists, and some may have been uncannily successful in what they did, no matter in what field. Powers, even if not used, make you a bit more lucky than most. You were hit by a very nasty revenge spell. It's a spell that was crafted from a number of ancient spells, spells so near perfect that they have been used over and over again. The one that transformed you into a woman is such a spell, also the framework of the revenge spell as such. I am positive the transformation spell cannot be reversed. The spell itself is perfect, it has no flaws to hook into to tear it apart, and the revenge spell protecting it has never been broken, not in millenia of trying.”

“The other rider of the spell is one to make you very submissive and easily controlled. That spell is a newer one and not very strong. It only works on nonmagical people, it doesn't work on people with powers. It tends to dampen down hope and lowers your emotional barriers as well.”

“When you were transformed to a female, your powers took hold and that spell lost its force. It has had only a very slight effect, that is getting ever weaker, and that has given you the ability to cope well with what happened, by taking the edge off your emotions.”

“It will continue to do so for a while longer.” She sighed and went on

“There is one more rider, a real piece of work. It hooks into the revenge aspect of the spell and builds on the emotional effect of the one that you defeated. It will leave you with an absolute revulsion to sexual contact with men, and also with an extremely heightened sex drive. You would be in a position where you crave a man in your bed, but can't stand the thought of it. It would make you physically sick. Together with the hopelessness induced by the first rider spell, you would probably kill yourself. If you didn't, you would soon wind up a sex worker, and hate every minute of it.”

“You were saved from that fate by your latent powers”, Alyssa said. She went on “Needless to say, all four of these spells are highly illegal and the revenge spell is a controlled spell, even knowing how to cast it is a criminal offense. Rest assured we will investigate this.”

“Now, you have gained powers, and, through the lock-in effect of the revenge spell, they were boosted to a point where they cannot be left dormant.”

Alyssa smiled and said “You will need to receive magical training. You may choose to live without powers, but even then you will need to learn how to suppress them. Or you can embrace them, but be warned, it is not an easy life. You have some time to choose, in the meantime, you need to avoid strong emotions...”

“And you need to avoid sleeping with a man!”

Alyssa paused and I thought “As if I wanted to!”, but I didn't say it out loud because I wouldn't want to break the mood with a comment like this. So I was under a curse, and I had been turned into a sorceress! Whoever said life could be boring?

End of part three

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To Be Continued...