A boy finds himself in a suburban landscape with no other people... except his other self. A woman breaks up with her boyfriend and storms out of a bar... but all is not what it seems.. A roommate's prank leads to new and unsettling discoveries. A door to another world leads to unexpected changes. An ancient entity awakens to find a world where gender and everything else have drastically changed. Dive into the strange and unexpected with stories by Hikaro, D.K. Fenger, Trismegistus Shandy, Shadow Dragon, and CasLon.

I Can't Hide From My Mind -- A TG Mixed Tape

edited by Trismegistus Shandy

Table of Contents

“Echoes” by Hikaro

“Jolene” by D.K. Fenger

“Unstuck” by Trismegistus Shandy

“Lost Little Lamb” by Shadow Dragon

“The Little One” by CasLon

Echoes

I walked through town and found exactly no one. It was creepy as hell, almost nerve-wracking. The sun was directly overhead, which didn't stop things from seeming completely out of whack. I pinched myself to see if I was dreaming, but of course I wasn't. That only made perfect sense.

I passed by cookie-cutter houses with minor differences. One house had a slightly different porch railing, another was yellow instead of blue, a third had an alternate slope to its roof. Cars were parked in front of every garage, running the full gamut from sports cars to sedans to SUVs to pickup trucks. If there was room for a semi cab, I bet I would have seen one of those.

I walked up to one house and peeked in the window. I couldn't see anyone inside, but what I could see looked an awful lot like my house. I recognized my mom's personal room style, with the chairs laid out almost theater-like in two rows facing the TV. Mom had this rule that if the family were sitting together watching TV, we shouldn't actually talk until what we were watching was over. It was annoying, which was likely why we always watched TV in our rooms, my siblings and I.

I walked over to the door and turned the knob. It opened easily, and bathed the room in light from outside. Almost immediately, the lamps turned on by themselves, like opening the door was a cue they'd been waiting for. The room was unmistakably the same as the family room at home, including the pictures on the wall.

The only problem was that I wasn't in any of the pictures.

I picked up the one that sat on the cabinet on the wall across from the front window. It was a party shot of me, my little brother and my older sister. Becca was two years older than me, and took after Mom to the point she looked like a clone. Same round face, same sandy blonde hair, same bright blue eyes. Travis was just under a year younger than me and looked like a male twin to Becca, though he kept his hair in a stupid 90s boy band look that most had hoped died out in the 90s.

The third person in the picture wasn't me, however. It was a girl that looked like me, and thus looked like Dad somewhat. She had short brown hair and a cute smile that resembled the one my sister wore all the time. Her eyes had that same blue-green, almost luminescent look that mine did, which people frequently told me would draw their attention.

All over the room, any picture that used to have me in it now featured this girl. Why? Who was this girl and why had she replaced me? She looked too much like my parents to be adopted, but I didn't have a twin sister and either way, none of the pictures in this house showed me, just this girl. What was going on?

I walked down the hallway and peeked in each of the rooms. On the ground floor, there were four rooms plus one of three bathrooms. The master bedroom, where my parents slept, had its own bathroom, and that was on the second floor. The third bathroom was in the basement.

On the west side of the house was Becca's room, and it looked just as grungy and out of order as it always had. She was never the tidiest person, and she and Mom had had more than a few arguments over cleaning her room. She liked to party and naturally that meant that she'd come home wasted and usually dragging a guy with her.

On the east side of the house sat Travis's immaculate bedroom, where not one single thing was out of place or even at the wrong angle. He was anal, and quite often in the annoying sense of the word, but he was also usually the first to make a joke about himself. He had such a good sense of humor that you couldn't help but like him despite his annoying tendencies.

There were two other rooms in the hallway. On Becca's side was Dad's office. He was a stay-at-home guy, an author of (his own words) cheap horror fiction that provided an alternative to Stephen King or Dean Koontz. He also did some freelance work for the local paper, but not often anymore. The room was very basic, with a desk, a chair, a lamp, a couch and a TV on the wall across from the desk.

On Travis's side, Mom's office was much more lively, with potted plants and wallpaper that made the room look like some cartoonish garden. Mom was a lawyer, and thus her office was full of legal books and non-fiction books about trials and assaults. Mom was also a 90s teen, and had been quite the hardcore gamer back then and never really dropped the habit, resulting in her having her own gaming PC that rivaled most streamers' supposedly powerful rigs.

The second floor was just the master bedroom. There wasn't much to say about that, but a brief glance at the photos of my siblings and I in the master bedroom once again showed that the strange girl had replaced me.

It was the same in Becca and Travis's room, too. Becca kept a photo album that was just as disorganized as she was, and I found photographs of this girl where there used to be photos of me. A picture of Becca and I at the beach now showed Becca with her arm around this girl's waist as they both flashed the camera a peace sign. Travis had a framed photo of all three of us on his desk, from when we were younger. He was blowing out candles on his birthday cake, I was sitting off to the side with a kid's guitar and Becca was furious at us because we'd dumped her slice of cake all over her then-favorite dress. Most of that was the same in this new altered photo, except that the girl replacing me was just holding her guitar while laughing at Becca.

I stopped in front of the stairway down to the basement. There was still one bedroom left, down there. I almost didn't want to see it, but I needed to see just how much this girl had infiltrated and stolen my life in this weird place. I took each step slowly, and I heard each stair riser creak loudly and annoyingly.

The basement was separated into three spaces. The open space that the stairway opened into was where the washer and dryer were. The door in the back and to the left was the third bathroom, that really only one person in the house used unless there was little other choice. The door in the back on the right was the one I was the most concerned about.

When I first moved into the room in the basement, I'd put a poster for X-Men Origins: Wolverine on the door to label it as my bedroom. The poster was still there, but it wasn't alone anymore. On the upper left and lower right corners were flower stickers that I could only assume were put up there when this girl was younger. Slapped over the poster itself was a sticker that read Keep Out! and another underneath that was No Boys Allowed!. I was terrified of what I would find in that room. This wouldn't be my bedroom, no, this would be the bedroom of a sixteen year old girl that had replaced me.

I felt every air particle hit me as I reached for the doorknob, just about to break the rule on the door. I turned the knob and opened the door slowly, almost hesitantly. As I pushed the door inward and exposed the bedroom to the outside world, I found...

...that the room didn't look much different from mine at all. Yes, there were feminine things placed haphazardly around the whole thing, from a small make-up kit on the dresser to some magazines on the floor that I would never once consider reading, but the bulk of the room looked exactly as it always did. This girl, whoever she was, shared attributes of my siblings just as I did. The place wasn't a mess, but wasn't tidy. The clothes in her dresser and closet were clearly meant for a girl who liked to show off her assets, but none of it was particularly girly. If I had to tag her in any specific way, I'd say she was a tomboy.

"Taylor, hurry up!" I heard my mom's voice from upstairs. Strange, I hadn't seen her anywhere, or anybody else for that matter. The place had been deserted when I walked through it. Also strange in that she was calling my name, but there wasn't any proof that I even existed in this whatever it was.

That was when I put the pieces together. She wasn't calling for me. Taylor could be a boy's name, yes, but it was also just as if not more commonly a girl's name.

And there was a girl here who held every aspect of my life.

I hadn't seen her there when I'd walked in the room, and I wasn't quite sure I really was seeing her. She was translucent, almost ghost-like, but undeniably the girl I'd seen in the photos around the house. She walked into the room through the door I didn't remember closing.

She rummaged around in her closet, looking for school books, it seemed. Just like me, Girl-Taylor kept her books underneath a laundry basket with dirty clothes overflowing out of it. A lot of her clothes looked similar to mine, though naturally there were added things like bras and skirts and the occasional dress. At one point, she dropped a book on her foot and shouted something...

But I heard nothing.

I hadn't heard any noises since Girl-Taylor's mother called her upstairs. Nothing from the closet, where the laundry basket had toppled over and dumped dirty laundry all over the floor, nothing from when she dropped the book, not even her presumably loud cursing. It was like I'd gone deaf for no reason at all.

But despite the lack of sounds, I could still see Taylor as she scrambled to collect her things and finish getting dressed. I'd experienced this same scenario a dozen times myself, though I was never wearing Victoria's Secret at the time. She hurriedly pulled a pair of jeans off a hanger and fought to pull them on. Just like I had the day before, she fell flat on her ass just shortly after getting her left leg in the right pant leg. That was so much funnier to watch than experience.

I saw many similarities between Taylor and myself, and not just our actions. She was, in every way, my female clone. Same slight frame, same baby face (though it looked more natural on her), same scars along her left arm from that time I accidentally got my arm caught against a circular saw and lost an alarming amount of blood. It was just her gender that differed from mine.

She shouted something at her mother upstairs. I could barely make out what she was saying by reading her lips, something like Just about! or maybe something similar. She still didn't have a shirt on, though she was running through what was hanging in her closet. She threw more on the floor than she considered wearing.

Finally, she grabbed something off a hanger and walked over to the full length mirror that now hung on the wall opposite where my bed was in my room. I'd missed that in my examination of the room. She held the shirt up to herself as she looked in the mirror, a critical look in her eye. "Crap," she said, and this time I could only just hear the word. My hearing must've finally been coming back. She threw the shirt back at her closet and grabbed another that she'd discarded.

Seconds later, a nearly translucent Becca burst into the room. I could hear her speaking, but she sounded so far away. ”What's taking so long?” she asked.

Taylor sounded louder now. “I just... don't really know what to wear.”

Becca grabbed a random shirt from Taylor's closet. ”How about this one?”

Taylor shook her head. “It doesn't feel... right, y'know?”

”You're taking this too seriously. C'mon, it's just a normal day, you're just going to school, remember that.”

Taylor gave Becca this look of pure disbelief. “It's not just a normal day!”

Becca smirked, then grabbed a different shirt. “Well,” she sounded closer now, too, “you'd better put a shirt on or the boys will love you.”

Taylor looked surprised, then flush. “That's... don't say crap like that, please...”

Becca put her arm around Taylor's shoulder. “Just remember, you treat this like it's nothing and it'll be nothing. Let the world see Confident Taylor, the girl who proved them all wrong.”

Taylor didn't look enthusiastic. “What if I don't know how to be Confident Taylor?”

Becca glared. “You've been Confident Taylor your whole life, you just didn't know it.” She took the shirt she had handed Taylor and pulled it down over the girl's head, but not too far. “Now, get a shirt on and let's get going, understood?”

Taylor said, “Okay...” in a defeated tone of voice.

I couldn't help but laugh at the whole situation. It was almost like watching a sitcom while on the set and the actresses were directed to ignore me, though I honestly didn't think either Becca or Taylor could see me. It was so odd, watching Becca with a little sister instead of with me. The two of us got along, but there was something... different about the relationship I saw between those two.

My amusement at the two sisters' interaction didn't change the fact that I was watching an alternate version of myself, a version of myself that seemed so comfortable and yet so anxious. Taylor and I weren't much different, and yet she seemed so much more at ease than I ever did. I almost wished I could ask her what her secret was, but at the same time, I really wanted to get back to my world.

I watched Taylor finish putting her shirt on and then give herself a once over in the mirror. She looked as though she still wasn't happy with Becca's choice in shirt for her, but accepted defeat and kept it on. She brushed some hair away from her eyes, then let out an exhausted sigh.

"You're gonna make it through this."

I wasn't sure why she was talking to herself, but it was something I did every now and again, as well.

"I'm not talking to myself, I'm talking to you."

I blinked twice.

She turned around and looked directly at me. Her eyes followed me when I moved, stayed on me as I tried to walk past her. She could actually see me, and that felt disconcerting.

"Yeah, tell me about it," she said in an amused tone. She spun back around and faced the mirror again. "Take a good look. This is what'll happen when you start being honest with yourself."

I took a step forward. "What?" I asked, suddenly aware I had a voice. I hadn't said word one the entire time I'd been wandering around this world.

She shook her head. "It's not a world. At least, not one anyone would want to stay in. This is you, Taylor." She pointed to her head. "This is up here." She reached for the make-up kit on her dresser and pulled out a tube of lipstick. "This is your imagination, putting together what it would be if you just admitted to yourself that you've never been a boy."

"Whuh..."

She applied the bright blue shade to her lips. "Oh, you look like a boy, you've tried to act like a boy, but the both of us know it's not who you are." She turned back around. "Take a closer look."

I did as she suggested and realized it almost immediately. I'd recognized everything of myself in Girl-Taylor for a very good reason: Girl-Taylor was a boy. A sixteen year old boy, dressed in girl clothes and having applied make-up to smooth out her face a bit. I glanced at her chest and realized she didn't actually have a bust at all, just the illusion of one thanks to the bra she was wearing. I didn't take a look toward her crotch because I knew exactly what I'd find. The thought made her smirk.

"You're not wrong." She folded her arms over her chest. "This is you, Taylor. You know it is. You've been living as something you're not, someone you're not, for so long that you couldn't even recognize it right away."

As much as I wasn't sure I could admit it, she wasn't wrong. For so long, probably going back to my earliest memories, something had been wrong about me. Like every kid, I'd tried to believe it was just that I was misunderstood by everyone around me, everyone except my family. That phase didn't last very long, but the feelings did. Eventually, I realized that the one who misunderstood me was me. That who I was and who I should be were two different things.

But none of that explained the differences in the photos, in my room. If this was all just my imagination and the girl in front of me was how I wanted to see myself, why were other things different?

She shrugged. "Your head, not mine. Well, okay, I guess it really is, but you get what I mean. You're probably seeing pictures of the life you would have had if you'd been born right." She stepped right in front of me and grabbed my shoulders. "Please, though, when you wake up... do what's right. Be the Taylor that's confident in herself that Becca says you are."

I felt an unease in my stomach. "Be Confident Taylor..."

She nodded.

I looked her in the eyes. "What if I don't know how to be Confident Taylor?"

I saw a tear slide down her cheek. “You've been Confident Taylor your whole life. You just didn't know it." She pulled me in for a hug, the kind of hug that only sisters know.

I awoke in my bedroom, stripped of what few things had made it Girl-Taylor's bedroom. Things that I fully intended to bring back as soon as possible. Starting, most likely, with that mirror. I wanted to have something I could use to see my eventual progress.

I took a shower, dried off, got ready for my big moment. It was Saturday, so everybody would be home for a good couple hours at least. I wanted to just burst out there and let it out immediately, but I knew this wasn't something I could take lightly. I wasn't even sure how to break it to them calmly, so just shouting it at them probably wouldn't be a smart idea.

I walked upstairs and made my way to the kitchen, where Becca and Travis were already sitting there, talking to each other at the dinner table. Dad wandered into the room next and patted me on the back for some reason. He didn't know what I was going to do now, did he? No, there was no way for him to know, so of course he didn't. Finally, Mom walked into the kitchen, still wearing her bathrobe and drying her hair with a towel.

"Hey," Travis said, "what's up with you?"

Be Confident Taylor, I told myself. Or maybe Imagination Becca had said it to me, I didn't really know. The point was that I needed to do this, because everybody deserved to know who I really was.

I cleared my throat. My voice was shaky as I said, "I've got something I've been meaning to tell you for a really, really long time..."

Hikaro is an author of things that catch people's attention for five minutes and are quickly forgotten. Please send flowers.

Jolene

“Carl, you absolute bastard! I cannot believe I've put up with you this long!” The auburn-haired beauty's emerald eyes were flashing with rage. The slap to Carl's cheek rang out, drawing all eyes at the bar.

“But Jolene, lovie dove... You know I would never...”

Jolene spun on her heel, and stormed out. Over her shoulder she called out, “No more 'But Jolene.' We're through.”

Carl sighed and returned morosely to his beer. Seconds later, he heard the creak of someone sitting down next to him. He glanced at her. Not the prettiest at the bar, but certainly pretty enough for his tastes.

“What was that all about?” she asked.

Carl straightened up and put a brave smile on. “Oh, you know. Something I said got taken the wrong way, and I made the mistake of arguing.” He rubbed his cheek, then looked the girl over. Honey-blonde hair, eyes like sapphires, and a kindly expression. “I should know better than to date redheads.”

The woman chuckled. “Temper as fiery as her hair?”

“Some people run hot and cold. She ran hot and hotter. Hard to keep up.”

“Poor thing. Want me to kiss it better?”

Carl smiled. “Do I look like the sort of guy who'd object to a kiss from a lovely lass like yourself?”

“No, but you have that once bitten twice shy look.” She leaned in to give him a gentle peck where the red welt of the slap was brightest. “There. All better.”

Carl stuck out his hand. “Carl, though you probably already heard that.”

The woman smiled and shook it. “Sara.”

Carl smiled back. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Do I look like the sort of girl who'd object to a drink from a handsome lad like yourself?”

Carl laughed at her echoing of his own line. “No, but I find it better to ask than assume.” He gestured to the bartender. “Two of whatever she's drinking.”

Sara's smirk broadened as two pink concoctions adorned with cherries and little umbrellas were set before them. “You think you can handle that?”

Carl raised the glass in a toast, then took an experimental sip. He tilted his head to one side, and mulled it for a moment. “I'm getting hints of strawberry, citrus and...” He frowned in concentration. “I'm not sure. Sort of floral, but I can't place it.”

“Nicely done,” applauded Sara. “That's hibiscus syrup.”

Carl took another sip. “It's very soothing. But...” He eyed her suspiciously. “No alcohol?”

Sara giggled. “I find that bars can be very entertaining if one pretends to be drunk. And no hangover.”

“Do tell,” prompted Carl, and he was rewarded with tales of what Sara's friends got up to when drunk. He contributed several tales of his own, including ones where he'd fallen victim to his own alcohol-induced stupidity, and found that Sara had the most infectious laugh. Stories that used to make him cringe instead set him to giggling along with her.

In the process, they went through several more of Sara's favourite drinks, all of the fruity and very sweet variety. When Carl asked the bartender for two “less fruity” nonalcoholic drinks, they got something based on ginger beer that made them both pucker, but they both agreed that it was growing on them by the time they'd finished.

Sara linked elbows with Carl as they headed out of the bar together. “Feeling the sugar buzz yet?”

Carl giggled girlishly. “Is that what this is? I was wondering if one of those drinks had a little something extra in it.”

Sara rolled her eyes. “Nah. The sugar and artificial dyes are more than enough to get me loopy.”

“You don't seem loopy, you seem pretty relaxed.”

“I've gotten good at faking it.” Sara rested her free hand on her stomach. “Feels like I'm about to barf butterflies.”

Carl stopped, their linked elbows halting Sara after another step and half-turning her to face him. “Look. If you want to call it a night here, I'm good with that. I've had a great time with you, and I'd love to see you again. Let me give you my number, and you can call whenever you feel comfortable, okay?”

Sara sniffed once, and nodded, then added Carl's number to her phone. A moment later his phone pinged with a text message. “Can I see you now?”

Carl laughed, and offered his arm once more. “Indeed. As much or as little as you like.”

Sara licked her lips lasciviously. “Such a lovely offer. How much farther to your place?”

Carl pointed up the block, and soon they were in the lobby of his apartment. On the ride up the elevator, Sara snuggled in against him, and stayed as close as she could on the way to his door.

The door opened to reveal Jolene standing there, eyes catching Carl's with burning intensity.

“Joe?” asked Carl in surprise. “What the hell? Why didn't you venn back?”

“Venn?” asked Sara. “Wait, was this all a setup?”

Carl winced and nodded. “Yeah. We use a Venn Machine to turn one of us into a sexy 'girlfriend', she starts a fight and slaps the other guy, then storms out. Draws attention, makes for a nice conversation starter. Usually the slap is for show, but this time...” Carl glared at the woman still blocking the door.

“Wait, wait... Jolene isn't always the girl?” asked Sara.

Carl shook his head. “We take turns. Last week I was Caroline, and Joe was himself.”

Sara's frown flickered to a smile briefly. “I'd like to see that. Text me a picture of Caroline. I'll leave you two; I'd rather not be in the middle of a domestic dispute.”

Carl watched Sara go, waving to her as the elevator closed. He rounded on Jolene. “I liked her, damn it. A lot. Why now?”

Jolene dragged him into the apartment and slammed the door. Before Carl could protest, she pulled him close and kissed him fiercely on the lips. Carl was too surprised to do anything but kiss back. He'd never kissed Jolene before, and the feel of those sexy lips he'd designed was beguiling.

When they broke for air, Carl stumbled back and fetched up against the apartment door. “Where did that come from?”

“You've felt it too. I know you have. I've seen it in your eyes when you're slapping me, it hurts. God, it hurts to walk away.”

Carl stared at Jolene, as if seeing his creation for the first time. “Walk away? What are you talking about?”

Jolene started to leak tears. “Can't you feel it when you're Caroline? Oh, please tell me it's not just me. I've fallen for you so bad, it hurts.”

“You've fallen... for me? But you're a guy!”

“Do I look like a guy? I've spent so many nights in this body, I sure as hell don't feel like one!”

Carl frowned. “Haven't you been changing back? After Caroline slaps you, my first stop is to change back.”

Jolene shook her head. “I usually come back and hang out in my room. I've even bought a few vibrators to...” She smirked at Carl's discomfort. “What, too much information?”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because this body rocks!” shouted Jolene, throwing her hands in the air. “I don't know what you did, but it's like I'm on fire. A couple weeks after we started doing this, the line at the Venn Machine was too long and I just wanted to go home, so I figured why not spend a few more hours as a girl. Then I had a shower before bed, and, well... soaping myself up, playing with the spray. God, it felt so good I didn't want to stop.”

Carl coughed softly, then nodded at Jolene's breasts. Jolene blushed and snatched her hands away from them. Then she grinned, and started stripping out of her dress.

“What the hell, Joe?”

“You've seen me naked.”

“Not like that I ha... ha... Holy.” Carl couldn't help but stare at the bare breasts Jolene was flaunting.

“Exactly. They're amazing.” Jolene hefted them enticingly. “Come touch.”

Carl reached toward them, then yanked his hands back and stepped away. “What are you doing?”

Jolene sashayed toward Carl, breasts bouncing hypnotically. “Trying a very hard sell indeed. You've hooked up with worse.”

“But you're...”

Jolene ignored his protests. “You get drunk enough, you'll bang anything. You don't know how many nights I've wished it was me. It's my turn, god damn it!”

“What? No! That's not how this works! You're my drinking buddy. Good ol' Joe. Go change back, and sober up.”

“Oh. My. God. You're sober. How the hell?”

“Matched Sara drink for drink, and she was drinking these cute nonalcoholic things. It was fun.”

Fresh tears tracked down Jolene's face. “Are you in love with her? After one fucking night?”

“I don't know,” sighed Carl. “I was looking forward to finding out until you pulled this stunt.”

Jolene stomped off to her room, cursing a blue streak. Carl watched her go in utter confusion. A minute later, a loud buzzing started up, and the moaning severely tested his resolve.

Carl found a pair of earplugs, and went to bed. When he put his phone on the charger, he remembered Sara's request. He was sure he'd taken a selfie as Caroline at one point... He grimaced at the image he found, but texted it anyway, with a note adding, “Not at my best here, but it's what I could find.”

His phone chimed. “She's cute,” read the text. “Wish I could get a better look at her.”

Carl texted back, saying he wasn't sure he'd trust Joe to venn him in her current state. He got a wincing smiley in reply. Then Sara asked if Caroline would be easy to find in his Venn Machine history, and once Carl answered, she suggested meeting up at the mall at some point for a “photo shoot.”

Carl had no plans for Saturday, so he suggested they meet in the afternoon. Sara insisted on buying Caroline lunch. Carl sent a smiley in return, and agreed to an earlier time.

He went to sleep with a smile on his face.

In the morning, Joe was still Jolene. Carl raised an eyebrow. “It has been over eight hours, why haven't you changed back?”

“There's an Venn escort agency next to the mall. They do extensions. Not the first weekend I've spent like this.”

“You didn't... work for them, did you?” fretted Carl.

“Would you care if I had?” huffed Jolene. “You made your opinion of me pretty clear last night.”

“Oh come on, Joe. You surprised the hell out of me.”

Jolene sighed. “Can you use my name, please? That's not too much to ask, right?”

“You want me to call you Jolene? Why?”

“Because my extension was for a year. I want to stay a girl. Your girl,” she breathed. “Please?”

Carl held Jolene's smouldering gaze until he winced and had to adjust his shorts. “God. How did you get so good at this?”

“I've known you for ages, Carl. I know what you like.” Her voice dripped honey. “Everything you like. It'll all be yours.”

Carl cursed and pushed away from the table. He scuttled into the kitchen, then used the counter to hide his hard-on as he paced. “I can't believe this. Are you seriously... You want to be my girlfriend?”

“More than anything.”

“Why me? With that body, you can walk into any bar and yell 'Who's next' to get any man you want.”

Jolene smirked. “I know. Tried it a few times. The man I want is you.”

Carl ducked his head. “How can I do this? I look at you, and think, 'But that's Joe'. We've seen each other naked. Seen each other through fucked up relationships, terrible breakups, and even worse hangovers. How am I supposed to go from that, to...” He looked up at Jolene, realized that her robe had come loose and was showing her spectacular breasts, and completely lost his train of thought.

Jolene smirked, and strolled toward him, shimmying her shoulders to loosen her robe further. “You made this body. Dreamed it up out of a song and a fantasy.” She strolled around the counter, glanced downward. “Don't lie to me, Carl. I turn you on.”

“Of course you do!”

“Then why won't you bed me?” begged Jolene. “Why?”

Carl started pacing again, staring at the floor. “Do you know why there have been so many one night stands, and nothing long-term?”

“Why?” asked Jolene softly.

“Every girl I took home, I compared to you. They were pretty enough, but never as pretty as you. And when they talked...” Carl shuddered. “Sara's different. If you had done this any other night, with any other woman...”

Jolene laughed bitterly. “You've got a date.”

“Meeting her at the mall. She wants to meet Caroline.”

Jolene's eyes lit up. “You are not going to let her Venn you without a spotter. There are rules, Carl. You made them.”

Carl's eyes went very wide. “You're not going to make a scene, are you?”

Jolene's grin was all canary-eating-cat. “Li'l ole me? Make a scene? I know you'd hate that. No dramatics, cross my heart.” Tracing her finger over her chest drew Carl's eye.

With great effort, Carl looked away. “Please say you have something appropriate to wear.”

“Half a closet's worth. How soon are you meeting?”

“Two hours.”

This time it was Jolene's turn to curse. She fled to her bedroom. “I have to get ready!”

Carl shook his head, and called out after her. “OK, now I believe you are a girl.”

Jolene emerged from her room with minutes to spare. She was wearing a long green dress with a modest neckline, and understated makeup. Carl blinked at her twice. “Wow. You look... beautiful. And terrifyingly normal. What are you scheming now?”

Jolene smirked. “Scheming? Moi?”

Carl rolled his eyes and headed for the door. Jolene followed along, moving smoothly in low heels. She kept quiet on the drive to the mall, and as they walked to the Venn Machines, but there was a knowing smile on her lips.

Sara waved to Carl as he approached, and didn't even notice Jolene until they got quite close. “Hey, what is she doing here?”

“House rule. No venning without a spotter.”

Sara nodded. “Sensible. I figure for eight hours, I'm not worried. C'mon, let's see Caroline.”

Carl set up the Venn Machine for a third of the day, and gestured for Sara to precede him once the doors opened. She blew him a kiss before entering, and he stepped into the opposite side. Sara called up Carl's history and studied it curiously. “You haven't been much.”

Carl laughed. “Yeah, just Caroline really.”

Sara tapped the display, and soon Carl felt the familiar contours of Caroline settle around him.

Carl posed outside the machine, a clumsy imitation of a modelesque pose. “So. This is Caroline. What do you think?”

“Cute, but...” Sara looked from Caroline to Jolene. “Wow. Did Joe even try?”

Jolene pouted. “Hey, I did my best. Carl's just...” she sighed. “He's amazing at this. A real artist.”

Carl blushed. “Thanks.”

Sara clapped her hands excitedly. “Do me!”

“Huh?”

“That selfie you sent, Joe's the guy with you right?”

Carl nodded. “Yeah, it was.”

“I can see the resemblance. So you turned Joe into a hot female version of himself. Do that for me.”

“Turn you into a hot male version of yourself?”

“No, a hot female version. So the competition is fair.”

Carl blinked at Sara. “Competition?”

Sara glared daggers at Jolene, and got a similar look in return. “It's clear you haven't made up your mind, and Jolene's got an unfair advantage. Make me as sexy as she is, and then...”

Carl rolled his eyes, then turned and set the Venn Machine for a day. Sara eagerly hopped inside. Carl spent many minutes tweaking and fine-tuning Sara's image, humming softly to himself as he worked.

“Ready?”

“Heck yes. Hit me!”

As soon as the doors opened, Sara darted out to see herself in the mirror. She soon found herself flanked by Carl and Jolene. Sara stared at the bombshell blonde in the mirror for long minutes. “Woah. Damn, you are amazing. You should do this professionally.”

Carl shrugged. “I've thought about it, but I like my day job. And once you've changed someone, they can go back to it whenever they like, so repeat custom is an issue; it's not like a hairdresser.”

Sara glanced from Caroline's reflection to two visions of beauty beside her. “Oh, no no no. This is all wrong. Sorry, Joe, but I have to overwrite your work.”

“Eh.”

“What do you mean?” asked Carl.

“I mean, you need to design your own body. C'mon.”

Sara dragged Carl back into the Venn Machine. “Now reset yourself, then we can twin you onto me. That way you can design for yourself, right?”

Carl nodded, and tapped the red circle that sent him back to his normal form. Sara swore as her shirt and pants were suddenly two sizes too small. “Don't look!”

Carl studied Sara, who was squirming and looking anywhere but at him. “Don't look at what? That the real you is still awfully cute?”

“Can we get back into the machine already?”

“One thing first,” said Carl, then pulled Sara in for a brief hug and kiss. “Mmm. Not bad at all.”

Sara blushed, then cut her eyes over to where Jolene was watching with a scowl on her face. “Better than her?”

Carl laughed. “A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell.”

“But you did kiss her,” mused Sara. “Before I kissed you in the bar, or after?”

“After,” admitted Carl.

“So I still have a shot. Excellent. C'mon, let's get you venned.”

The first step was to venn Sara into a copy of Carl. Sara giggled at Jolene's reaction to seeing two Carls, and the two of them kissed her flaming red cheeks.

Giggling, Sara led Carl back to the Venn Machine for a much longer session. When they emerged, Caroline's shoulder-length hair had become a smooth ebon waterfall that fell to near her waist, and her eyes were black as night. Sara was back to her prettied up self as well, and stood beside Caroline to compare chest size. “Are you really sure you want basketballs like those? You're going to ruin your back.”

Carl shrugged. “The Elvira vibe called to me. I regret nothing.”

“Yet.”

Jolene just goggled at Caroline. “How on earth...”

She got a wicked smirk in reply. “You're not the only one who knows which buttons to push.”

Sara distracted the two of them by offering to buy lunch. They chatted in the food court about random things, and giggled at the guys trying to steal peeks at them. A few approached to try to talk to them, but Jolene's well-practiced glare left them stuttering.

Next, Sara declared that Jolene and Caroline needed proper clubbing dresses, and the three scoured the mall for something she considered appropriate. Much time was spent giggling in changing rooms, with each in turn giving the others a show as they changed. As they left the mall in their new dresses, Caroline admitted that she'd had vastly more fun shopping like that than ever before.

The club Sara guided them to was loud and bright, filled with energetic people. They danced together, and deflected interest from guys and groups of guys by admitting up-front that not all of them were born girls. It turned into a guessing game, and only one group got it right. They hung out with the guys for a little while to have a bite to eat and cool down, and found to their delight that the guys were actually three girls who'd venned themselves male for the weekend. Before they parted ways, they begged for Carl's number so he could make them pretty some day...

At the end of the night, Jolene was the “winner”, the one with the most guesses she was originally female. This led to much giggling on the way home, and Jolene demanded kisses from both her companions as her prize. She rated Caroline's the best. Sara then pulled Caroline into a kiss, and nodded her agreement. “Definitely the best kisser. But I think we need a more comprehensive test.”

That led to much more kissing, on to a comparison of breasts (“no matter whose are best, Caroline wins -- she designed them all”) and further disrobing and cuddling.

Caroline blinked awake, trying to piece together the most wonderful dream. Then she saw Jolene and Sara sitting side by side on the bed, watching her with matching grins. “Wait, did we just...”

Jolene and Sara nodded eagerly. “Spectacularly so,” added Sara. “These bodies are fantastic. I'm going to keep mine.”

Caroline levered herself up to a sitting position. “Uh. I... God that was something else. I just... I can't see myself this way full time.”

“That's okay,” purred Sara. “I want to see what Carl can do to this body.”

Caroline looked guiltily to Jolene. “You too?”

Jolene looked down. “I know how you feel about that.”

“When I'm a guy, yeah. Sorry.”

Jolene put her hands together. “Please. I know she has won, but... I'll do anything. Be anything.”

Sara arched an eyebrow. “You'd make lovely lingerie.”

“Okay,” whispered Jolene. “I'll do it.”

“No,” said Caroline. “I'd hate to lose her like that. I...”

“We know,” said Sara after Caroline's hesitation went on too long. “You talk in your sleep.”

“Oh lordy, what did I say?” fretted Caroline, ducking her head to hide behind her cascade of dark hair.

“That you loved us both.” Sara tilted Caroline's head up, and brushed the hair aside. “Do you?”

“Yes,” whispered Caroline. “But... I still can't make Carl plus Joe or Jolene work in my head. I'm not built that way.”

Sara smiled brightly. “Do you trust me?”

Caroline glanced over at Jolene and her wide, damp eyes. “Yes.”

“I have a plan that starts with you, a Venn Machine, and you designing a sexy body for Carl.”

Both Jolene and Caroline thought that sounded like an excellent idea, though Jolene fretted when Sara asked her to stay behind.

The wait felt like hours. Jolene spent some of it tidying around the apartment, some on a shower and prettying herself up as best she could. When she finally heard a key turn in the lock, she dropped the game controller and darted to the door.

Sara stood in the door alone, raising Jolene's concerns. But a moment later Carl stepped into view, more ruggedly handsome than ever before. Jolene gasped to see him, then started to cry. “This doesn't help at all. He won't look at me the way he looks at you.”

“No,” murmured a soft, familiar voice, “but I can.” A demure Caroline stepped into the doorway. Her overblown curves had been dialed back to something more normal, and she had a girl-next-door freshness to her face, rather than the sultry beauty of before. She was also wearing a black-and-white maid's dress.

“What on earth? Who are you?”

Caroline slithered between Carl and Sara and sidled up to Jolene. “Caroline, just like before. Sara venned me into two people.”

“I thought you didn't want to be female full time,” Jolene protested. “How is this going to work?”

“I stay here, Carl goes to work. I'll nap while he's working, then...” She grinned. “Playtime when he's not. Well, that and doing some light cleaning. This place needs it.”

Jolene's face broke into a huge smile. “That sounds lovely. There's just one thing.”

“Oh?”

She looked over at where Carl and Sara were snuggled together by the door. “We're going to need a bigger apartment.”

D. K. Fenger has been using that name online since before the (commercial) Internet. His first story appeared on an alt.* newsgroup. More recently, he has been writing all kinds of transformation-themed stories on DeviantArt.

Unstuck

When Ken came home from work, Evan met him at the door in the silly maid costume Ken had bought as part of the prank. "While I was cleaning the apartment," she said, "I found where you'd hidden the stuff to change me back..."

"Oh," Ken said, seeming unconcerned and distracted. "Well, thanks for being a good sport and sticking with it anyway."

"But -- you don't understand," Evan said. "Let me finish, okay?"

"Sure," Ken said. "But keep talking through the bathroom door while I run in there and pee, okay?" He dashed past her, apparently having held a full bladder for most of his drive home from work. This was not going how Evan had envisioned it.

Rather than throw away her remaining shreds of dignity by raising her voice and talking through the bathroom door, Evan waited until the toilet flushed, the hand-washing water ran, and the door opened. "Okay, what were you saying?" Ken said, still drying his hands as he walked out of the bathroom with a hand towel.

"When I found it," Evan said, "I was going to change back. But I was so nervous when I was twisting the lid off the jar, it slipped out of my hands and fell on the floor and spilled on the carpet! And I tried to lick some of it up," (her eyes shifted away from his for a moment), "but it didn't do anything except make me gag and have to go brush my teeth for twenty minutes before I gave up and went and cleaned the carpet." She met his eyes again. "I'm stuck like this!"

To her surprise and indignation, Ken laughed. "Dude, you should watch the news more often. I was pulling your leg about it being a lost family secret that my grandma made one last batch of before she died. The Food and Potion Administration's already approved it; I'll just run down to the alchemist's shop and buy another bottle." He looked toward the kitchenette. "But do you mind if we eat supper first? I haven't had anything since breakfast but a couple of protein bars and I'm starving. Oh, and you can change out of that silly costume whenever you want."

"I fixed supper," Evan said, reevaluating everything: her plans, her assessment of Ken's character... "It's ready whenever... and... I guess there's no hurry. Since you can get it any time."

"Sure," Ken said, and they both headed for the kitchen. "Hey, seriously, you don't think I'd have played a prank like that if it was that easy for you to get accidentally stuck, do you? I mean, slacking off on your share of the chores doesn't deserve that."

"N-no," Evan said, biting her lip. "You mean it's available over the counter? How long...?"

"Just a week or so ago," Ken said. "The first batch sold out fast, you know; the manager said they'd underestimated the demand. But they got in a bigger batch just before I stopped by for a bottle of headache potion yesterday, and I thought, why not?"

Evan went to her bedroom and changed into her grey sweatpants and a T-shirt. It was less embarrassing than the maid costume, but she also felt a vague sense of disappointment as she glanced at herself in the mirror before returning to the kitchen. She didn't know why; this made more sense than that silly get-up.

They each served a plate of the stir-fry Evan had prepared and sat down on the sofa, eating and not saying much for the next few minutes, except for mumbled praise for Evan's cooking from a Ken with his mouth full, which made her blush slightly.

"You know," Ken said when he'd taken the edge off his hunger and wasn't shoving one bite after another into his mouth, "I think I'm going to try it myself this weekend."

"Being a girl, you mean?" Evan asked, startled.

"Yeah. It would be a hassle to do it during the work week -- I'd probably have to notify my boss ahead of time and get a new temporary employee badge and all. But for a day or two over the weekend, no problem. See what it's like and all. You seem to be handling it fine."

"Y-yeah, it's not as bad as I thought at first," Evan said, looking down at her plate and taking another bite.

After they finished eating, Ken offered to run over to the alchemist and buy more QuikGender, and Evan desperately searched for words. "Don't worry about it tonight," she said. "I've been so busy cleaning the apartment I haven't really had time to really... you know..."

"Test-drive the new equipment?" Ken said, wiggling his eyebrows. Evan blushed and Ken laughed. "Sure. I'll pick it up on the way home tomorrow, how's that? Then you can change back and I'll change over for the weekend."

Evan hesitated a moment and said, "Yeah, that sounds good."

Friday after Ken left for work, Evan finished up the last of the chores she'd been neglecting lately and then sat down with her laptop to catch up on the recent news. Specifically, the new potion Ken had used on her. How did it work and what kind of side effects could it have? It had to be pretty safe or the FPA wouldn't have made it over-the-counter...

An hour or so later, she set the laptop on the coffee table and sat back on the sofa, drawing her legs up to her chin and thinking. This was all so much easier and yet so much more complicated than it had seemed yesterday when, in a fit of euphoria, she'd poured the potion (which Ken must have poured from the manufacturer's packaging into that old Mason jar to disguise its origin) down the sink. Immediately afterward, she'd felt pangs of regret -- but only, somehow, over practicalities like how she'd prove her identity to anyone other than Ken. Nothing like the regret and reluctance she felt about changing back to her original body. Why? Well, now she knew.

QuikGender didn't change someone's gender identity (a new phrase she'd just learned). But about one in a hundred and fifty of Mercurilab's test subjects in the phase III trials had figured out they were transgender as a result of the study, and decided they wanted to stay in their new body. And after some further reading, Evan was pretty sure that was what was going on with her.

But she wasn't stuck like this, and couldn't claim that getting stuck was an accident, which meant she'd have to tell Ken she wanted this. And her other friends... and her family. And maybe future employers and co-workers? Not necessarily, she realized as she picked up the laptop and did some further research. If she got all her paperwork squared away before she filed any more job applications, she could have a new driver's license, birth certificate and so on and wouldn't be obligated to disclose her birth gender to employers or anybody. Her next employer's HR department might find out if they did a background check, but they'd be obligated not to tell anyone what they found.

Proving her identity wouldn't be a problem, either, even though Ken was the only witness to her change. QuikGender didn't change a person's fingerprints.

She did some more research -- more about transgender issues, tips on shopping for women's clothes, baby name websites, makeup videos, and on and on. When Ken walked in the door, she looked up, startled, only now realizing how hungry she was and that she hadn't cooked supper. Or eaten lunch, for that matter. She had had a larger breakfast than her new body really needed, but that was way too long ago.

"I'm sorry!" she said. "I got distracted, and haven't fixed supper."

"That's fine," he said, winking at her and hefting a little bag with the alchemist's logo on it. "We can order out. Do you want to change back first or have me change first and us both be girls for a little while?"

"Actually," she said, and took a deep breath, "I don't want to change back." Ken raised his eyebrows a little but didn't say anything, and she went on after a moment of hesitation. "You can call me Evadne." She held her breath, waiting for his reaction.

"...It's good to meet you, Evadne," he said slowly. "In that case... how about we go shopping and eat while we're out? You'll need a lot of new things and I'll want a couple of outfits for this weekend."

Evadne smiled, and tears started to well up. "I'd like that."

Trismegistus Shandy is working on a sequel to Pioneers, tentatively titled Wings. Their stories are available on Smashwords, Amazon, Scribblehub, BigCloset, TGStorytime, DeviantArt, and other sites.

Lost Little Lamb

Gerald was panting heavily as he sprinted through the dense foliage. He was a seasoned athlete and ran marathons for fun, yet... there was so much pain throughout his body. But he knew not to stop. The sirens, while slightly faded, could still be heard. They might be right behind him. He came to a clearing and fell to all fours as a new wave of pure agony wracked his body.

What is this?! he thought as he writhed on the ground, fighting back a scream. What did they do to me?!

He looked down at his hands. Normally big and beefy, his arms were now so slender, and bright pink, instead of his normal tan. His fingers felt as though they were on fire and, before his very eyes, they melted. With dry cracks and wet pops, they reformed, now even smaller. They looked almost like a child's hands, except the fingers ended in some hard black substance. He felt and heard the same thing happening to his feet, just before the sensation traveled up his arms and legs. While that was happening, his insides churned and painfully twisted as his flesh and skeletal structure underwent the change.

Gerald's ears burnt and felt as though someone were tugging on them, right when he felt the brown hair on his head fall out. He started to feel itchy all over his body, except for his face, hands, and feet, but that was quickly overshadowed by the pain he experienced in his skull. There was the loudest, most sickening crunch of them all, as the flesh over his head flowed and squirmed. He shut his burning eyes just as he saw his nose start to push out. He laid there, slowly starting to moan, his voice now becoming many octaves higher. And then, like a switch being flipped, it was over.

Gerald was still sore all over, everything just throbbing simultaneously. That too faded down to a dull ache, then to simple discomfort. Gerald then realized two things. One, that he was curled up in a ball. Two, he was weeping, sounding just like a small child. It was the fear of being discovered by his captors that prompted him to uncurl and try to stand. He promptly fell on his bottom, and let out a yelp as it felt like he'd landed on something.

Standing back up on wobbly legs, Gerald quickly took note that he was no longer wearing his shorts, just his red t-shirt, which now went past his knees. Looking down at his feet, Gerald confirmed that the toes ended in the black substance as well. Lifting up the shirt, he saw the pink flesh give way to some kind of white hair.

Is that fur? he wondered before it came to him. No... that's wool! What... what did they do to me? Gerald wondered for a second time, before spotting a puddle. He approached it on uneasy steps, hoping to peer at his reflection. Luckily, there was just enough sunlight left to do so at the growing dusk. Looking down, Gerald fell back down again, once more landing on something... that he suspected was a tail. A quick search with his hands confirmed that much, along with all of his body being covered in wool. From where he sat, Gerald leaned over once again and took in the face peering back at him.

"I-I'm a... sheep?" he said aloud in disbelief.

"A lamb ewe, to be exact, sweetheart," said a female voice off to Gerald's right, making him jump. He looked over wildly and spotted a white tigress in some kind of green uniform. Panicking, Gerald looked around and spotted a log. Not thinking, he crawled inside and curled up, unable to stop the sobs of despair that were coming on at full force. He heard the footsteps approach and come to a stop at the end of the log, and waited.

"P-please, don't take me back!" he squeaked out, hating how much he sounded like a scared little girl.

"It's okay, sweetie, I promise I won't take you back. I'm here to help," she said.

"Wh-why did you take us from our world?!" Gerald demanded, feeling indignant as well as terrified.

"I didn't take you from anywhere, sweetie. That company did, and I'm happy to say that our local law enforcement is currently raiding them, and rounding up everyone responsible."

"You lie! I b-barely escaped!"

"It's no lie, honey. Look, for several decades now, we've observed your world through a... well, I don't know all of the technical jargon, but let's just refer to it as a window for now. That's public knowledge, and it has been ever since the scientists who first discovered it revealed their discovery to the world. It was only ten years ago that we discovered how to open a doorway between our worlds, and ever since, our government, worldwide, has clamped down hard on that. We don't want to interfere with you humans and your development, which is only just a little bit behind us." The tiger lady explained this to Gerald in a calm and casual voice. This made the now former human uncurl, somewhat curious, but still very much wary.

"Oh yeah, way to go! I t-totally don't at all feel interfered with!" Gerald frowned at the chuckle that resulted from his snark.

"It's recently come to light that a certain company has been using their own version of the technology to abduct you humans for the purposes of experimentation. To what end, I don't know. I do know that as of right now, the company is out of business, with all of the higher ups having been arrested, as is anyone who had anything to do with the project."

"I-if that's true then... what are you gunna do with me?" Gerald asked, still wary, but also a little bit hopeful.

"Protect you, of course," said the woman, once more chuckling. Frowning, Gerald quietly crawled to the end of the log and looked out and up at the tigress. Before, she had seemed large, but now, even with her crouched down in front of the log, she was massive. Gerald let out a whimper, despite the bright smile on her muzzle. "Now, how about you come on out of that dirty log, and we'll see about getting you all cleaned up and maybe into something a little more appropriate."

Gerald figured that he had rested enough that if he had to, he could bolt and lose her in the forest if need be. He gulped and crawled the rest of the way out, standing up, much less woozy than before.

"There we go. Now, how about we introduce ourselves. I'm Xala. What's your name, sweetie?"

Gerald bit back a snarky retort, thinking it best to stay on the tigress' good side. "Gerald, Ma'am." Xala chuckled at that.

"You look much too adorable to be so serious," she said. Thinking about it for a moment, something came to her mind. "I'll bet you're wondering why you're now a cute little lost lamb, hmm?" Gerald simply nodded at this, prompting Xala to continue. "As has been revealed to the public, the company that's been pulling in you humans discovered that once on our world, your bodies adapt to it, becoming one of the many sentient species of our world, which is called Yotuatha. Oh! And we're called shiar. For some reason... you humans usually becoming younger in the process..."

"H-how much younger?" Gerald asked, looking down at his finger... hooves! The realization of what he was looking at hitting him out of the blue.

"Well, it'll take a doctor to give the best estimate, but from the looks of you, I'd say around the age range of seven or eight," Xala said, her eyes going wide as Gerald started to sniffle and wip at his eyes. Without thinking, she scooped the little lamb into her arms, and started nuzzling her. At first, Gerald shrieked and flailed a bit. But, as he was comforted, his body seemed to relax on its own. He noticed Xala lifting up his shirt a bit and then lowering it, smiling as she started to walk back the way she had come.

"It would seem that your body has adapted in one of the other usual ways as well."

"What do you mean?" Gerald asked, feeling a slight chill down his spine.

"I just confirmed my earlier suspicion. You are now a little girl as well." This news made Gerald burst into fresh tears, which Xala started to kiss away, still while walking and nuzzling. "It's alright, just let it out, it's all going to be okay."

"No, it's not!" Gerald cried out. "Not only am I on a new world, but I'm now a new species, and a girl, and a little kid! This isn't fair! I was supposed to compete in the Olympics!" Xala let Gerald vent while picking her path back the way she came.

"It will be okay, I promise. It may not seem like it now, but it will be. I'm going to make sure of it," Xala said, smiling now that the floodgates seemed to have dried up for the little ewe in her arm, who was now simply hiccupping.

"R-really?" Gerald asked.

"Really... and I have a pretty good idea of just how to do it..."

One Week Later...

"I thought that you meant you would take me home!" the little ewe said, crossing her arms and frowning at her white tigress legal guardian. Xala chuckled as she looked down at her foster daughter, dressed in her pink nightgown, pouting adorably.

"Good morning to you too, princess," Xala reached down and ruffled her foster daughter's head wool, making her grumble in frustration. "And we are home, silly."

"You know that I meant my home world!" Gerald said, stamping her left hoof-foot. Xala bit back a coo at how cute the sight was, having learned that Gerald had been a big strong male who was quite proud of his athletic prowess, now in the body of a little girl.

"I know, princess, but remember? It's only a one-way passage for the door. And that's even if the government were to consider starting the project back up, which they do not seem too keen on doing after what happened. Besides, as far as anyone knows, you would just be stuck in your current form on your old world."

"At least I would be home," Gerald said, dejectedly. Xala felt for her foster daughter, despite how happy she had been to become her guardian.

"I know that it won't be easy, but soon you'll come to see this world as your new home, Saro," Xala said, using Gerald's new name.

"I'll find a way back," the little ewe said one last time, hugging her teddy bear without realizing it. Xala smiled maternally and scooped her cub into her arms, cuddling her close. She was happy that in the week of her being here, she had gotten used to physical affection. Xala was especially happy for this, because it was just too hard to resist cuddling her daughter. The tigress had not been entirely truthful about her status as a foster parent. But she planned on informing Saro of her adoption eventually, maybe when she was older and had adjusted to her new life.

Shadow Dragon is happily working away on many projects, using that name for TGStorytime, Shadow Lion for SoFurry, and Elite Shade for FanFiction.net, FictionPress.com, and most recently, Scribble Hub. Also, they go by ShadowBunnyDragon on Archive of Our Own.

The Little One

The first thing I sensed upon my reawakening was the warmth secured within my palm. In the instant I connected with a living being, I froze and remained still until I could recover from what was supposed to be an eternal slumber.

Sight had returned, but all I saw was a hazy green aura with yellows and blues outlining a narrow pinpoint of something else. There was something inside of that emerald light and I could feel its warmth pressed down under my hand.

“Uhh...” The sound of my voice fell out of my mouth. I only heard myself internally, mentally, a memory of this sound my voice made.

Not good enough. I'd awoken and reached towards someone... Or had they reached out towards me? I had to know, had to speak loud enough to be heard.

“Ahh... Wha...?” I tried again, but my mind was still a void. It had been filled with an emptiness over my time in retirement and now, ironically, needed time to be refilled with substance.

“--EASE!” With a sensitive ringing, a welcome pain, my hearing returned. “YOU'RE CRUSHING ME!” Immediately upon hearing that statement, I pulled my hand away. “Gods, I can't believe it. You're real!”

Real? This was not someone who was familiar enough with me to know... What did it know? What had I held to be easily pinned by my hand? I wasn't a bastion of strength or a sizable creature capable of such results.

“What...” Be nice, respect it as a person. “Who are you?”

“I am --” I heard a heavy thud. “Forgibme!”

“Strange name,” I said more to myself than anything.

“Forgive me,” it replied. “My name is Wahne Bux.”

“Won bucks...” I tried the taste of this name, saying it in various ways. “Wan Box, One Bahks.”

“I -- I must have summoned you,” this Wahne said, answering a question I hadn't asked.

“Summoned?” I didn't believe that answer was entirely correct. “You didn't.”

“I diiaah...” He sounded confused (why couldn't I see this person?). “I did not?”

“No,” I said as I held my hand out in front of myself. Feeling my way blindly, I physically turned my hand with my other. “Not really. You reached out to touch me, I reacted, and I touched back,” I explained. Then I added: “You woke me up.”

“I hadn't intended to summon or wake anyone up.” I heard a sheepish quality in the tone of their voice. “I was trying to be quiet, hoping not to be discovered.”

“Why?” My hands -- I could feel them, but not see either of them, myself, these dark surroundings, or who I was having this conversation with. “What were you trying to accomplish?”

I heard scuffling across a hard surface. “The Tome of Nix --”

“Nix?” That sounded like a name, but not one I recognized. “A tome?”

“Yes, Nix, and the tome...” There was more scuffling and I was growing agitated at this mysterious movement. “I am sorry, that is that your name, correct?”

“Stop moving around,” I commanded and, as an afterthought, said, “please.”

“I -- I'm not moving.” Wahne sounded confused and a bit worried. “Do you hear something?”

“Shh! Don't be quiet, be silent.” I concentrated on that noise.

“Um, Ma'am, do you want me to be quiet or not?” There was a quality of bewilderment in his voice. I supposed I was not clear.

“Don't just speak softly, be absolutely silent... And, yes, I do hear something,” I answered Wahne. Then, after a moment of true silence, I said, “No.”

That scuffling was coming from within me, produced by my recovery. I had much more emptiness than I had initially realized. How long had I been asleep?

“Continue,” I quietly commanded.

Wahne began again by saying, “I was trying to --”

“I am not Nix,” I said as an interrupted afterthought. If I wanted a decent answer to everything, I really needed to get my head together sooner than later.

“Ah, oh, I am sorry for assuming you were Nix.” As he spoke, I finally took note that the tone of Wahne's voice sounded very young, but male, and I grew dangerously confused.

“How did you reach me?” This wasn't possible for any male... I had to ask. “Only priestesses, ones that have had the blessing of the Coven, could ever contact me.”

“Priestess? What priestesses?” He didn't sound sure, but I also detected laughter in his voice. Was that a note of disbelief or a mocking tone? “The tome is on the fable of Nix, the only woman to have used magic.”

“A fable?” I was growing ever more bewildered by his responses. “I don't believe you understand what I am asking. You contacted me by a means unknown to me.” To hit home what I wanted, I said, “Explain right now, before I lose patience.”

He gulped and tried explaining this mystery to me again. “The tome is from the forbidden section of the Menins' library.”

“The Menins?” I wondered who they were, perhaps a clan or a cult? But I decided not to care about that detail right this moment. “Go on.”

He resumed and only said, “Yes, well, I --”

Then I interrupted. “You snuck in and took the book.” I could figure that out from the tome being from a forbidden zone, his attempts at being quiet, and how worried he appeared to be when I mistook my recovery for movement in our vicinity. “What did you do to be capable of contacting me?”

“This,” he said and, yes, this time I heard him moving around. “I read from this, aloud.” I guessed he was holding that large book up for me to see (as if I could), and pointing at something written on some page.

“What is it?” Despite how I'd nearly crushed him (by accident), I was not confident enough to reveal my currently weakened condition.

“The tome...” He went silent when I finally moved. The sound of scuffling ceased and, as I tested my limbs, I heard the creak of my extremities once again being stretched. If he was going to tell me a story, I was going to get comfortable first. “The fable, it tells of Nix pulling a will of power from herself by performing this ritual.”

“You mean a well of power,” I had to clarify. “Don't you?”

“It said will, not well,” he said. “I could be wrong. I studied and learned the dead language as well as I could.”

“Dead?” I knew what he meant, but I was curious about the language itself. “What language?”

“Auroan.”

“Never heard of it,” I said, losing interest because my sight was returning. “Be still until I say otherwise.”

The surrounding darkness was still there. My guess was that I still lacked peripheral vision and could only focus from a pinpoint perspective. It was like looking through a keyhole. My eyes roamed across the space, revealing what seemed like a bunch of carrots.

“Huh?” Carrots?

“Hm?” A pair of big, shiny, black stones popped up at me from a soft face, as white as snow. After a little observation, I saw the “carrots” to be orange, braided hair. The rows of these red cords hung about the lowered, small shoulders supported on a short, lean figure. My first assumption was that this was a boy, rather than a man. “Show me the page again,” I asked.

Wahne lifted up a HUGE book that was a third of his size and possibly weight. The robe he wore was apparently of a heavy grey wool with sleeves that burdened his thin arms enough to make me wonder how he could carry that tome.

He was very, very young. A boy of about eight or nine, surely no more than ten. The length of his braids, though, conflicted with my assumption; they were too long for a child of that age.

Looking into the boy's face revealed a lot more of what I hadn't discovered. The high, rounded, cheekbones and large, open, opal eyes stared above the top rim of the book at me. Perfectly curved brows and long lashes... I began to get an idea what might have woken me up, but I had to be certain of this supposed book's contents first. “What ritual did you...” I paused as I saw the outstanding delicate features of his hands and fingers gripping the outermost edges of this book. I had to ask: “Are you a boy?”

“A what?”

“What?” I blinked, wondering how to respond to that. Perhaps Wahne hadn't heard me? “Are you a boy?”

“A boy?” Those invitingly innocent eyes opened wider and turned away from me in what I saw was a mask of confusion. “No? I am a Menin.”

How was I supposed to respond to THAT?! I simply nodded (I couldn't think of a better response), then prompted hiii-- them to explain. “What is a Menin?”

“I am,” said Wahne with a smile peeking up over the book (the smartass).

“Wahne, you mentioned Nix was a woman.” I waved a hand down towards the Menin (whatever that meant) as a gesture to confirm this and received an affirmative nod. I followed this by revealing my limited knowledge. “I know of boys, girls, women, and men. Male and female. What is a Menin?”

“May I please set the tome down first?” Those arms were a bit wobbly. Good. I could use some leverage besides my unexpected ability to crush this peculiar someone.

“Answer,” I said, “then yes, you may.”

“I am not a boy or girl.” The tome, in shaky hands, was being lowered, but had not yet settled to the dark and cold floor (stone?). “We Menin are molded, firstly, and born without an assigned gender.” Wahne sounded more intelligent than I would've expected of someone of ten or younger.

“Why would anyone mold you into... Menin?” I had never thought of someone other than female contacting me, but if they were neither sex, I suppose it could've been possible... What was I thinking? It was. I had the proof here in front of me. “Is it a curse?”

“No,” they laughed. The smile I'd spotted on Wahne before had now broken out cheerfully into a grin. “This is to avoid conflict of interest. Boys and girls, men and women, compete against their own for a place in the world. Menin already have their place set when they are born. There is no fighting over who is more deserving.” In a hushed tone, Wahne said, “We Menin live, serve, and die.”

“What do you mean by that?” I instantly regretted asking that question. “Wait,” I said and decided to backtrack towards an earlier statement. “What did you mean before about this Nix being the only woman with magic?”

“Women don't have the spark,” said Wahne, but I hadn't an idea what this spark meant. “Men do.”

“Spark?” I wondered if that was a term for magic? “Is that a kind of magic?”

“I meant life.” There was a little laugh after they said that. “Women don't have the spark of life. Men do.”

“Excuse me?” As far as I was aware, since a time I care not to remember, women had always carried this “spark” of life. When did men get the sole honor of that? “Women are the ones who carry that spark within them until the time comes for that life to emerge into the world. Men have nothing to do with that except --”

This Menin interrupted me and said, “Men place the spark of life inside of women. Without men, there is no life to start.”

As angry as I was becoming about this topic, I knew it for what it was: the chicken or the egg debate. Only this time, the rooster had a say in the argument and had somehow won. I had a lot to catch up on in this new world, obviously, and when I gathered enough information, I would see what required solutions.

For now, as I boiled from the inside, I kept my lid shut and the steam contained with a tightly forced smile. It was a time for a change of subject.

With pursed lips, I said, “Ritual.”

“Phuuueeww,” Wahne sighed with relief as the big book fell down onto the bottom corner of its binding. It landed with a loud thud, and, honestly, I didn't blame the kid. “I, uh... here.”

The tiny length of his finger stretched around to point out an image on the right margin of the left-hand page. My eyes were not well adjusted before, but now, I caught the sight of a skirted figure, in a series of poses, down along and sinking into the fold. It looked like someone hopping around in circles. This made no sense to me.

“I see,” I said. “What of it?”

“Here,” Wahne said in excitement. “I followed the instructions about what Nix did to get to this point.” The book was leaned back as Wahne practically crawled over the top to reach down and pat at the weirdly written language next to those figures, performed as she had done. “Then I... after some practice, I copied her performance.” Those little hands slapped and smacked at each figure-pose, from top to bottom of the page. “And, um, and when I got it right, I sang her song.” The child's pale cheeks pinkened at that statement. “I know it is a library, but I thought I sang quietly.”

At this moment, I decided between two choices. The first choice wasn't one I favored; I could extend my patience with this little one until I grasped some idea of what had been done here. As for the second choice...

“Wahne.”

“Yes?”

“My name is now Wahne.” The child appeared confused, quite reasonably. “I am too busy recovering, lost in this world, and still not knowing why or how I am here. I feel that we should answer these questions together.”

The little Menin began to speak and revealed that they had no comprehension of my warning. “How come your name is --”

“Please, Wahne, sit down,” I interrupted. “This will be painful and I don't want us to be hurt... I'll take that.”

Without the child knowing what was coming, I reached down and pulled the massive tome from his small clutches. After propping the book off to the darkness beside me (I still had no visual on any of this library), I set to work on invading the young Menin by first snatching and covering that sweet sounding voice of theirs. A little muffle and, of course, a bit of a fight from the child later, I began my process of possession by breaking myself down into microbial dust. From how this encounter had started with the warmth within my palm, I now crushed myself into this still unknown creature. I would learn, correct, and with my power and will, discover what in the world required my attention in waking me.

Wahne. I had more than my arm broken down and invested into my new host. The child was having a fit of coughing, an excusably failed attempt to purge me. As for success, I had to fend off his struggling and scurrying retreat from me with my still intact hand. It would've been easier to secure the smaller person by straddling on top of them, but I didn't have the best balance at this time and had no desire to crush little Wahne again.

Some thoughts and memories of the child were coming to me. I started to grasp what interest Wahne had in the tome and that fable about Nix. Something having to do with a grandmother and a friend... A best friend. A real boy, for certain, who was a magical prodigy of his family.

“You're an orphan,” I said as we merged our thoughts into one. I had the entirety of my shoulders, neck, torso, and waist break apart to flow with the rest of me into the child. “Your grandmother cared for you.” Wahne stopped struggling. “Your friend. He doesn't respect the opposite sex at all. This boy sees them as nothing more than a man's property.” Now that I could view this world from Wahne's perspective, I could guess what excuse he had; magic was everything and women were known to have none.

No magic meant no life. The spark, which I now saw meant the seed of a man, was the ingredient required in creating life. That was magical and, with the same concept being adapted with ritualistic magic, this Menin was also molded into being. These people crafted humanity like Prometheus had with clay.

“Menin. I know of a species similar to your kind, called Homunculi.” That wasn't perfectly correct. Wahne was still human, having a grandmother and, as I corrected myself, being born from a woman. The difference from the regular way of conception was that men had altered and artificially inseminated Wahne's mother.

These men treated women like livestock. Treated them a little better, only just, than chattel. Through Wahne's memories, I saw the fields worked by nothing but the fairer sex. As for the Menin themselves... I saw expendable positions as bodyguards or, worse, experiments. No wonder this child was orphaned. I wondered how many mothers were forced to witness and experience their children conditioned into this form of slavery.

Live, serve, and die. I didn't want to contemplate anymore on how these precious lives (boy, girl, or neither) were treated.

There was no point in announcing this (Wahne had passed out), but I still said, “We're going to make some changes to your life.”

Wahne had risked breaking into this library to search for something their grandmother had mentioned: Nix. That fable of a woman with magic.

“I promise to make plenty of changes.” That was an unbreakable promise.

This best friend was the son of Wahne's... owner? More like a benefactor. Wahne could use magic and this best friend encouraged the little Menin's education. They liked each other, but he, like all men in this world, had no respect for women.

That included Wahne's grandmother. I understood why this little Menin had reason to learn more about Nix. A fictional story could hold a fraction of truth. However badly this contact with me had gone, I was proven to be that fraction.

“We'll change that too,” I whispered and shrank away towards the cloud of dust funneling into the child.

As I disappeared and became a part of Wahne, I started to understand how this child had contacted me. All women were trying to pray for someone, and at the first successful call for help, I'd responded. I was like a mother hearing her babe cry.

Now that I was here, things were going to be different from now on.

You can find CasLon on TGStorytime and BigCloset, also known as CL on QuillHeaven and ScribbleHub, and as CasedyLong on RoyalRoad.

A big THANK YOU towards Trismegistus Shandy for all the suggestions that fixed up my story to be seen the way it is now.

Afterword

Thanks to all the contributors, especially first-time contributors D.K. Fenger, Shadow Dragon, and CasLon. Thanks especially to D.K. Fenger for being patient and not posting his story elsewhere during the long wait between his submitting the story and the tape being finished.

It took a very long time to get enough submissions to do another tape. I first put out the call for submissions when “Water in the Sky” was released last August, repeating it every few months, but up until a few weeks ago, I only had two stories. I'm leaning toward retiring as the editor of the mixed tapes. If you would like to take over editing future tapes, let me know. I'd probably still be willing to help out with the proofreading and formatting, but I want to give over the primary responsibility for cajoling authors to submit stories and deciding on the submission guidelines for each tape to someone else.

The title of this tape is from a song of the same title by They Might be Giants.