Part 2 of 4
by Jeffrey M. Mahr
nor clouds be in the sea, nor fish live in the fields,
nor can blood be in sticks nor sap in rocks.
-- Titus Lucretius Carus<
"Fairy tales can come true, it can happen to you ..." Josef half hummed, half mumbled as he sat in the Faculty Cafeteria of the Clarke College Student Union patiently waiting for Richard's magical reappearance and the end of his rather impressive parlor trick. After about five minutes it became clear that Richard was not returning.
"Well, enough time wasted. I better get back to my office." With that Josef stacked his dishes, stood up and smoothed the collar of his blouse and skirt.
"Damn," he chuckled, "he's one good hypnotist. I should be mad, but he's created such a beautiful illusion it's more fun to enjoy the view." He briefly pulled the blouse top apart and admired the soft flesh revealed. (Besides, whatever he's done is bound to wear off shortly and scoring that last batch of quizzes isn't going to happen by itself, is it?)
Dropping off his dishes and remembering to bring the manuscript, Josef took his usual short cut and headed out the back door to his office. (Amazing. The hips seem to be swaying. The breasts seem to be jiggling. I even imagine I can smell perfume.)
The walkways were crowded and she almost made it to the Arts and Sciences Building where her office was located before being stopped by a cute looking guy with dark hair and eyes wearing a letter shirt. She looked up at him. (Up? I'm 5'10" and I'm looking up. How tall is this guy?)
"Excuse me. Would you please tell me where the Registrar's Office is?"
"Oh my, you're a tall one aren't you." She thrust out her chest, batted her eyelashes at him, and chewed daintily on her lip for several seconds. (Why the hell did I say that?) "It's two buildings down on your left." A pause for a deep breath, a finger to the lip, and a bit of a pout before continuing. "You're cute. Are you new here?" (Why do I care about new meat for the college's grist mill? What's going on here?)
"Yes. My name's Jack Dawson and I'm an exchange student from Northern State Community College. I've got a 2:30 appointment at the Registrar's Office and I'm already five minutes late so I really better run. It was nice to meet you."
"The name's Josette. Josette Rimsky. Room 231 in this building here, the Arts and Sciences Building. Come up and see me some time." She vamped as he waved and ran off. (That's not what I wanted to say. What the hell is going on here?)
Angry and bewildered she headed into the building and to her office, not even noticing the fetching sway of her hips as she climbed the stairs.
The secretary for the Psychology Department, Mrs. Grimley, was busy with another coed and didn't notice her walk past until Josette was at the door to room 231, her office.
"Excuse me Miss, Dr. Rimsky isn't in. Can I help you?" She peered over the tops of her reading glasses. "Miss," a bit louder and more imperious, "I said Dr. Rimsky isn't in. Can I help you?"
Josef turned about, prepared to advise her that her comments were less than humorous. Instead he found himself smiling and answering politely, "I'm sorry Mrs. Grimley, I wasn't paying attention, silly me. Dr. Rimsky asked me to stop by to see him." (Huh? That's not what I wanted to say.)
"That's alright child. He should be here according to his schedule and I'm rather surprised he's not. He's rarely late. Can I help you with something in the meantime?" Mrs. Grimley smiled back.
"Thank you, no. I'll come back some other time. By the way that's a beautiful shade of nail polish. What is it?" (Stop this. Go into the office. Why can't I go into my office? This is crazy.)
"Thank you. It's called bright crimson from the Mystique collection."
Their conversation was interrupted as a short, balding nebbish going by the name of Howard Emerson, Dr. Rimsky's teaching assistant, came into the Department office. "Hi Mrs. Grimley, is Dr. Rimsky in?"
"Hello Howard ..."
"No he's not." Josette pouted prettily. "I was just looking for him to." The pout changed to an enticing smile. "My name's Josette what's yours?" (This is insane. This is insane. What's happening here. Why can't they see who I am? Why can't I say what I want to say? What's happening here. Nobody can do hypnosis this good.) The frantic thoughts continued as Howard hesitantly took her daintily proffered hand and tried to decide whether to shake it or kiss it.
"It's O.K. silly. I won't bite," she giggled, "that is unless you want me to."
“Uh Humm." Mrs. Grimley loudly cleared her voice. "Mr. Emerson, don't you have a class to teach.?" No response. The chill in her voice grew more pronounced. "NOW."
"Oh, uh, yes. Thank you Mrs. Grimley." He regretfully released Josette's hand, gave a last wistful look and dashed off.
"I'm sure you have somewhere you need to be now also." Mrs. Grimley's voice was still frigid as she returned to her work studiously ignoring the distasteful harlot before her.
"O.K. I'll come back later." Josette flipped her hair and smiled brightly as she sashayed out of the office and into an empty hallway.
"Oh my god. What the hell am I going to ..." She stopped abruptly. "I said that." Her hands went to her mouth in joy. "I said that too. I'm in control of my self again." She turned around and started back into the Department office growling, "It's time to let that old bag know who's boss."
"Back so soon?" Mrs. Grimley's voice was only slightly warmer.
(Here goes you old battle ax.) Josette smiled, "I'm sorry. I seem to have lost my purse." (No. No. Say 'I'm Dr. Rimsky you withered old prune. How dare you be so rude.')
"What's that in your hand?" The smile would have made a polar bear shiver.
"What?" Josette glanced at the purse in her hand. "Oh, thank you." She giggled. (Stop it. Say the words. Say help. Say something I want to say.) "Silly me. I'd loose my head if it weren't glued on." She again glided out of the office into the still empty hallway."
"Damn. Damn. Damn." Mouth open she stopped again. "I can talk again." Her voice sounded frantic. "What's going on? I can talk again." She raised her hand and snapped her fingers. "I can control my body again."
Grabbing an empty bench she slumped down head back fighting back tears of frustration. "This is crazy. Whenever I'm around people I can't seem to do anything but act like a simpering sex kitten."
She slapped her hand hard on the bench. "Ow. Damn it." She punched herself in the chest and almost buckled over in pain. When she finally recovered she delicately touched the still sore breast. It felt like ... a breast.
"This is insane. I've got to find Richard. What ever he's done he can undo. That's it ... Richard." With a new purpose she picked up the manuscript and her purse and headed off down the hallway toward Richard's cubbyhole.
Three doors down Josette stopped perplexed looking at the space where the door to Richard's office was supposed to be. There was a large arched opening with a set of glass double doors. Before he could enter the doors opened and several ravishing women exited. They glanced vapidly at Josette and quickly headed off.
Taking a deep breathe and squaring her shoulders Josette entered. Hesitantly approaching the bikini clad woman behind the large oak desk, afraid of what might come out of her mouth she waited to be seen.
"Yes? May I help you?"
"Hello. My name is ... J ... Jo ... Josef." She signed in relief. "Josef Rimsky. Dr. Josef Rimsky." Confidence grew with every word. "I'd like to see Richard Boatman please."
"Certainly Miss." She gestured and another beautiful bikini babe came forward and escorted Josette nee Josef to the back of the Throne Room.
"Wait here. You will be called." The escort left and Josef watched the events around him.
"Bring him in." Richard spoke with a booming voice that seemed to clearly reach every corner of the room.
The far door opened and Dean Johnson entered bracketed by a half dozen more skimpily dressed women who pushed Josef out of the way as they marched towards the throne.
From his position beside the entry door Josef could barely see the events unfolding before him. What he did see was the Dean standing before Richard and then two of his escort forced the Dean to his knees and held his head down.
Sputtering in anger the Dean rose to his feet. "What is the meaning of this? I don't know how you've created this travesty but I demand you stop it immediately. His foot tapped impatiently as he waited.
"Greetings Dean Johnson."
"How dare you. I'll have your job for this. You'll never work anywhere. I'll have you arrested for kidnaping. I'll, I ..." Apoplexy warred with stroke for what would be the primary cause of death before he finally began to wind down.
"Silence." I was a whisper but Josef heard it clearly from his distant vantage point. The Dean seemed to be struggling again and his face seemed to be getting red again, but Josef could hear nothing.
"Read the charges Inga." Richard turned to the blonde to his right who produced a large scroll with handles on each end and tied with a golden tassel. Untying it she scanned it briefly and then began to read.
"Raymond Jehosephat Johnson. You stand accused of crimes against our Lord and Master. These crimes include failure to offer tenure, failure to appoint to desirable committees, failure to support his research grants, and most heinous of all, failure to attend to the words of our Lord and Master."
"How dare you. You and your bitches can go to hell for all I care and I intent to see you get there." He turned to walk away.
"Stop." Again that whisper somehow audible to Josef despite the distance. The Dean stopped. He was rigid and unmoving. Josef wondered if he was even breathing.
"Rather than repent you insult me and mine. We shall see who is a bitch. From this moment on every work or act that intentionally injures another shall bring you closer to the bitch to which you allude. Take heed and learn from the lesson of your friend Josef Rimsky." A spotlight came from somewhere and highlighted Josef and he glanced around disconcertedly. Suddenly he lifted off the floor and floated rapidly forward, stopping several feet from Dean Johnson but about the same distance from the throne.
"Do you take me for a total fool. This pathetic bimbo is not my friend Josef Rimsky." The Dean's sneer lasted several seconds before he grabbed at his crotch and then quickly reached inside his pants ignoring the stares of those about him. The sneer turned to shock and then dismay as he hand withdrew and his shoulders and head slumped dejectedly. Slowly he crumpled to the floor and began to silently sob.
"And you Josef Rimsky. Speak your mind."
"Richard? Please explain. What's happening here? I now realize it is much more than some simple trickery."
"Very well. For the sake of our past friendship I will explain. I have given you the type of body you have always lusted after. Outside of my presence you act to others as you appear, a witless, libidinous young woman. Only when you are alone are you capable of acting as you were, an intelligent, supposedly open minded, academician.
"What do you want of me?" Josef was distracted as Dean Johnson muttered something and pointed ears with white curly fur suddenly appeared. Fighting a strong urge to comfort Dean Johnson who shuddered and then returned to his quiet sobbing, Josef realized he had to seize this opportunity to find out how to regain control of his life.
"For you to recognize me and my discovery for what it is, brilliance beyond anything to have yet occurred in this sorry old world."
"I do. It is." The words stumbled off his lips in his hurry. "I apologize. I was blinded by habit and convention. Please forgive me, I beseech you."
"No my friend." Richard laughed. "Your words are laudable but they are driven by desperation, not belief." Josef sagged.
"But fear not, there is a way. You have my manuscript. You have but to read and understand. It is your key to the universe and beyond."
Dean Johnson lunged toward the throne only to be stopped after less than two steps by Richard's acolytes. He seemed to writhe and transform before them. His clothes faded away and close cropped white fur grew over portions of his body while other portions continued to grow until it was a curly white mat of hair. Arms and legs blurred as paws formed, his body hunched over and shrank, and finally a muzzle and tail appeared.
"Tsk, tsk. Naughty naughty. That kind of thinking and behavior will be the end of you." A pink collar and leash formed as well as large pink bows on the Dean's carefully trimmed tail and head. "I suggest you stop soon as you are running out of things other than your mind to transform. Richard turned from the quivering, whining mass of furry white creature back to Josef as a yellow stain began to spread from beneath its hindquarters.
"To show my mercy Josef I shall grant it the boon of human voice, but only when the two of you are alone. At other times, like you, this creature shall act as it appears, a large white pure bred poodle bitch."
Josef started to speak but Richard raised his hand and the words caught before they could leave his mouth.
"Take her. Teach her. Like you her salvation comes from the true recognition of my greatness." Richard yawned.
"Enough. Leave me now, I tire of your banality." A slight gesture and both disappeared.
Josef found himself in a woman's apartment. Looking out the window he realized that it was his apartment, but redecorated to suit the tastes of a very feminine personality. Behind him there was a low growl. Turning he saw the white poodle sitting by the couch. The tail wagged tentatively.
"Great. Now what do I do?" Josef dropped disconsolate onto the couch tossing the manuscript to the floor at his feet and closing his eyes to block out the room about him.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm reading this damn manuscript." Josef opened his eyes to see the dog flipping through the pages of the manuscript.
Part Four: Researching the Whichness of What
If it was so, it might be;
and if it were so, it would be;
but as it isn't it ain't.
That's logic.
-- Lewis Carroll
“Turn faster. This part's drivel." The be-ribboned poodle growled in frustration as it sat on it's haunches beside Josette on the living room rug staring over her shoulder at the manuscript that was supposed to solve all their problems.
"I don't think we can afford to skip anything. This thing's so convoluted it would make a con artist dizzy." Josette brushed an errant strand of hair from her face and tried to get more comfortable on the floor of her apartment. "And please stop breathing on me. You have doggy breathe."
"Now how could that be? Maybe it's because I seem to have a tail and a strong urge to chew on a bone?"
"Talking about bones, are you hungry?" Josette got up. The dog pranced along with her as she walked over to the refrigerator to check out dinner options.
"Woof. Who are you, old Mother Hubbard?"
"I was a single male bachelor who ate out a lot, and watch the sarcasm, it's getting a little thick." She glared down at the poodle, hands on her hips for a few moments before snorting in anger and grabbing a telephone directory off a nearby counter.
"What are you going to do, call for a delivery?"
"I was thinking pizza, how about you?" Pages flipped.
"Do they have female delivery people?"
"Not usually...oh. Good point." The page flipping stopped for a moment as she thought furiously. "I guess I can have him leave it by the door and slide the money out to him."
"That sounds reasonable." I wonder if dogs eat pizza? If we do, I'd like a small sausage and meatball." Sitting back he started scratching at the back of his neck.
"Ahh. He's one I've used before." Noticing the scratching she continued, "Hey. Do I need to get you flea powder?"
The dog shuddered. "Spare me. I'm just scratching an itch."
"That's what I'm worrying about." But she laughed and started dialing. Her long nails tapped on the counter top as she waited for an answer.
"Hel...loo." Her voice suddenly changed to a sexy, breathless whisper. (Oh no. It's a guy. I'm in trouble.)
"Woof?" (What's wrong? Why did your voice change?) "Grrr, woof." (Why can't I speak?)
"I'd like your cutest delivery boy to bring me two small pizzas, one just cheese and the other with sausage and meatballs. The address? Two eighty four Lincoln Park Drive, Northwest, Apartment 2C sweetie. Half an hour? Oooh, sounds dreamy. Remember, your cutest delivery boy. Bye bye." She hung up the telephone and put her hands to her mouth in fear."
"Oh my god. It's not going to work. Even by telephone I couldn't help myself. I wanted to jump through the phone and start rubbing up against him." Tears were flowing freely. "What are we going to do?"
"Damned it I know. All I could do was growl and bark. It was humiliating."
"I know. I know. So what are we going to do? After what just happened I can't call them back and cancel, I might make a date with the guy on the other end of the phone."
"So what happens when you hear the man's voice as he tells you who he is or how much you owe?" Josette collapsed onto the couch with a groan and the poodle jumped onto it next to her and sat staring at her.
"I know. You can do it. I'll hide in the bedroom so I can't hear him and when he comes you can shove an envelope with instructions and the money under the door with your nose."
"Master, is all well?" Colleen looked worriedly up at Richard while he rubbed his eyes. He also seemed a bit pale.
"Yes, yes, of course. Are our next supplicants ready?"
"Yes Master."
"Well Colleen, tell us about our next contestants."
"Certainly Master. Our next contestants are the people who run Clarke University. They make the rules. They hire and fire. They make the final decisions regarding important matters like which food service to contract and which grants to provide with matching funds. Let's have a big hand for our next contestants, come on down President Schrader and Vice President Quayle."
A group of bikini clad babes began escorting the two men to the throne. About half way there Richard's impatience got the best of him and the entire group lifted off the floor and floated rapidly forward to settle just before him.
"Bow before our Lord and Master." Their guards forced them to their knees.
"What's the ..." Richard gestured and their protests stopped mid word.
"You are here because you desire my intervention in your petty moral concerns. Speak or leave." The two men glanced uncertainly at each other and then President Schrader spoke.
"We've discussed your amazing discovery with the Board and we are here to present you with a small token of the honor and respect it is clear that you have been undeservedly kept from all these years." He tapped Quayle who looked stared blankly back at him for a second.
"Oh." He quickly reached inside his suit coat and started to pull something out. His escort instantly attacked and threw him to the floor. A blue velvet covered case fell to the floor only to be instantly covered by two more women. Schrader watched in shock before tentatively explaining. "I believe Dr. Quayle was about to hand me that case. Inside is the medallion of honor presented to those few who make it to professor emeritus. It was the Board's instruction and my proud duty to present that medallion and the accompanying appointment to the position of professor emeritus to you for your contribution the advancement of knowledge." He cleared his throat. Meanwhile the women of their escort had returned to their guard positions and Quayle slowly began to stand up and brush himself off.
"With your elevation to this esteemed position we would expect you to concentrate on the development of further research into this amazing phenomenon." His gesture encompassed the entire room and he took a deep breath preparatory to continuing. Richard yawned and gestured himself.
"While your obeisance is fitting and pleasing your ulterior motives are transparent. The Professorship is accepted. The research is concluded. You may study my words as prepared in that self same manuscript you returned to me unopened just two weeks ago." Richard cocked his head as if listening.
"Let's eliminate the excruciating pain of your prolonged attempts to force me to reconsider. I'll make it easy and we can jump directly to that point where you finally realize the futility of your pleas." He closed his eyes and put his head back as he wearily spoke.
"How dare I. You'll fire me. I'll never work in academia again. You'll have me arrested for misappropriation of college funds and equipment. Yadda yadda yadda. Have I missed anything? No? Good. Now let's get on with this." Richard peered briefly at the two men.
"President Schrader. You've impressed me. I thought you to be a man in command. Someone who knew what he wanted and how to get it. Someone I was ready to offer the world, but as I examine you I find, not a man of power and command, but a sniveling weakling, afraid of people and a puppet of the Board. You're not fit to be a man. You're not even fit to be human." Richard actually sounded disappointed as he spoke.
"And you Vice President Quayle. You present yourself as a caring, compassionate, educated man, but you're nothing but a sycophant, a sniveling, power groupie who's done little more than fawn over President Schrader and cover for his ineptitude. I wonder if you even have the wit to spell a simple word larger than four or five letters...like the word 'potato.'"
"Be what you are." Richard once more closed his eyes and slumped back into the throne. Colleen worriedly reached out to brush a loose strand of hair from his forehead. Inga too had been worshipfully watching him and almost imagined she saw the start of a tear. Uncomfortable with the thought that her Lord and Master might be unhappy she averted her eyes instead watching the two men being judged. The taller of the two, President Schrader, lofted into the air and his clothes disappeared. Next the hair on his pasty white chest fell off, each hair disappearing before it touched the floor. His bloated belly began shrinking and his skin became smooth, so smooth that Inga could no longer see any pours. In fact, the floating body didn't seem to have a navel either. Confused Inga's brow furrowed as she carefully scrutinized the floating body trying to understand the wisdom of her Lord.
More changes continued. The body took on a more rigid, posed stance as it clearly became female. The hair on Schrader's head changed from grey white to surprisingly coarse looking ash blonde and grew rapidly to shoulder length, but no hair was forming at the crotch. In fact, no genitals at all were evident.
The changes seemed to be slowing down as lines formed at the wrists, ankles, shoulders, neck, waist, and crotch. Inga wondered if this would be the start of new clothes, jewelry, or maybe some type of bondage device, but the lines only expanded longitudinally until each made a complete circle around a portion of the torso and stopped. The face though, that was the final answer. It became briefly less distinct and then reformed with perfectly painted makeup, but even the mouth and eyes were painted on.
President Schrader had become the puppet he had been ... sort of. To be more accurate he had become a mannequin, and a female one at that. His transformation had fascinated Inga so much she had failed to attend to Vice President Quayle. He too had been changing. His head, arms and legs were gone and he was the most unusual color, chartreuse with blotches of orange and brown. A bright yellow blotch had formed about where the blue velvet medallion case had been. As she watched he lost still more of his body mass, becoming almost two dimensional. In a final blur he reformed into a tropical looking floral print minidress with spaghetti straps and floated on to the mannequin. The medallion case was now a bright yellow scarf that positioned itself jauntily about the mannequin's neck.
"President Schrader, I know you're still aware inside that plaster and paint veneer. You can hear me too Mr. Quayle. Puppet and protector, mannequin and minidress, you shall stand immobile and mute before all who enter my offices. There was a small popping sound and then they were gone instantly reappearing beside the great oak and glass desk in the front lobby artfully posed to point reverently at the sign above it.
God
The bedroom was just as she'd imagined it would be, ruffled canopy bed, cluttered makeup table, closets full of clothes. Josette had already played with the radio until she found her usual classic rock station. There was no television and although she had stretched out on the bed, she wasn't sleepy. The manuscript was still on the floor in the living room and the only reading materials were some glamour magazines. Bored, Josette began to skim through one thinking maybe there would be some jokes or maybe an article spouting the psycho babble usually passed off as advice in glitzy magazines like this one at which she could laugh.
The first article was about twelve ways to make your man happy in bed, a guaranteed laugh riot. Within seconds she was engrossed and oblivious to everything else.
Twenty minutes later she had read the entire magazine, tried several of the makeup hints, and flawlessly redone her tear stained makeup. Her miniskirt and halter top had been replaced with a low cut, lacy, black, crotchless teddy, garter belt, sheer silk stockings labeled "dark taupe," and four inch black pumps. After a minute or two of posing playfully for the full length mirror on the back of the bedroom door the need to have someone else admire her grew unbearably strong. With a shrug she opened the bedroom door and entered the living room to pose for Dean as she'd decided to call the poodle.
Dean turned at the sound of the door opening. "What the hell are you ..." The words trailed off and his jaw dropped as she stepped into sight. "M...Ma...My god do you know what you look like? You're beautiful, absolutely stunning." Her tongue was hanging out, and not just because she was a dog.
Suddenly her tongue snapped back into her mouth and she swallowed hard. "Get back into the bedroom. That pizza guy will be here any minute, or are you planning to proposition your first man?"
Josette hesitated. Somehow the idea of sex with a man didn't seem so bad. In fact, as she stood there it began to feel more and more desirable. Desire became need and need became craving.
Dean watched the emotions dance across Josette's face with increasing worry. She started to growl and snarl. "You want to don't you. You want to seduce that pizza boy when he gets here. Well there's no way. I'm not spending even one more minute than I have to in this accursed canine body. Now get back in that room now!" She continued snarling as she advanced on Josette forcing her back. "Oh damn. I can smell the garlic. He'll be here any second." She lunged at Josette and Josette fell back into the bedroom fearful for her life. She kicked the door, slamming it shut in Dean's face.
"Now stay there." She growled through the door. "I'll call you when you can come out." One last growl and then Josette could hear the padding of feet as she paced back to the living room and the front door.
Frustrated and needy but afraid to leave the room Josette gazed out the window at the busy street below. Glancing up at the moon the fear became even more pronounced. The moon, the face in the full moon, it was Richard's face.
Chapter Five: Hell's A Popping
but there is no doubt about there
being one on this side of it.
-- Ed Howe
"With no reports of volcanic activity, nuclear explosions, or unusually heavy meteor activity astronomers are completely baffled by the apparently miraculous transformation of the landscape of the moon. The huge landmarks that compose the features of what mankind has for aeons called 'the man in the moon' have somehow changed. Where the old landscape could be said to vaguely resemble a human face the new landscape appears to be an almost photographic quality representation of the face of a human male. Huge crowds have been quietly gathering in almost every city, town, and village to stare at the changes.
In related news today Presidential Press Secretary Bloomberg adamantly insists there is no secret government military base on the moon, that said nonexistent base does not have any nuclear materials, and that the nonexistent base's nonexistent nuclear stockpile did not detonate, however cleanup operations are underway. Also, in related news, Pope John John II has asked the College of Cardinals to investigate the moon's change to determine if it meets criteria for a miracle.
From Iraq in the Middle East, Sadam Hussein has denounced the change as an American trick claiming it is intended to undermine Moslem society by sowing the seeds of western culture. Finally, on the lighter side, Jack Seaman, Managing Editor of the Guinness Book of Records, has offered a prize of $100,000 to the person who's face most closely resembles the new lunar face with the one stipulation that plastic surgery is not acceptable.
"Please turn that garbage off and get back here. I need help turning the pages." No response.
"Josef. Turn off the television now!" Dean looked up from the manuscript in annoyance to see the very female appearing Josef staring raptly at the television where a clearly male reporter was describing events in London. She was still wearing the black Teddy and one hand was playing with an erect nipple through the thin fabric while the other hand had found the slit in the matching crotchless panty and was moving back and forth frantically. With a heart wrenching sigh the poodle got up and padded over to the television where he used his paw to turn it off. Instantly the movement of the hands began to slow. A couple of seconds later Josef's eyes blinked and the hands stopped moving.
"Did I doze off?"
"No. You were back in bimbo mode from watching the newsmen on the television."
"Why do I feel funny?" Josef looked down to see where her hands were and jerked them behind her back. "Was I doing what I think I was doing?"
"If you mean masturbating, yes." Dean said sourly while Josef blushed crimson. "Now how about some page turning?"
"Sure." Josef moved quickly to skim the page before turning. "What did I miss?"
"Not much, we've made it to the teenage years." Dean yawned. "No seriously, he's been prattling on about his hypothesis but still hasn't begun to talk methodology, and I must admit I've read better prose on the ingredient list of a tube of toothpaste."
"Maybe we better skip ahead after all."
"You've got the hands." Dean snorted. "I'm the one that wanted to do that from the beginning." Dean snapped his muzzle closed and looked hard at Josef. "What made you change your mind?"
Josef blushed brightly again.
"What shall we do now My Lord?" Colleen was gently massaging Richard's neck and shoulders as he sat in his desk chair staring out the huge window onto the lake, light by the light of the full moon and Richard's face. Inga was gently rubbing his feet.
"It's time to relax." He stretched. "What would you two like to do?" Inga looked up at him with a sultry smile and began rubbing higher up his leg. Colleen's hands moved so that she could hug him from the back and then she began unbuttoning his shirt.
"Well, that's always fun. Shall we move to the bed or do one of you have a better idea?"
Inga delicately placed her finger in her mouth and sucked it. "We could do it in the lake Master." Suddenly the three of them were standing naked but for their shoes on a sandy beach at the edge of the lake. Inga clasped her hands in front of her and jumped up and down in glee. Then she kicked off her heels and ran the last few feet to the water and charged in about three steps before turning and back running out.
"Oooh. That's cold. Would our Lord and Master consider warming it up a bit?" She danced from foot to foot while Colleen giggled.
"We could do that, but I've got a better idea." Richard laughed. Richard stared at Inga and she found herself falling, limbs askew, onto her buttocks. Colleen's giggles became guffaws until she too found herself sprawled on the sand. They sat there unable to rise staring questioningly up at Richard.
"Look to yourselves." He intoned with a smile.
The skin on their legs had turned bluish green and shiny. Rainbow colors scampered over them even in the dim glow of Richard's moon. Colleen glanced over to see the same thing happening to Inga who stared uncomprehendingly back. Their attentions snapped back to their lower torsos as they found their legs moving gently together first at the knees and then at the ankles. Only the feet remained separated. The feet and toes began to elongate and thin. The separation between the legs disappeared as it slowly fused from the crotch down.
"Oooh Master, you're making us into mermaids." They cooed in unison. Colleen wiggled her flippers and posed, hair flowing around her breasts as Inga tentatively touched her new tail.
"There are tiny scales."
"Now try the water temperature."
"Yes Master." They scooted to the edge of the lake and in. In seconds they were fifty feet out, giggling and laughing as they playfully chased and ducked each other.
"Come on in Master, the water's wonderful."
"Hello. Police? My name is Dolores Schrader and I'd like to report a missing person." The short slightly chunky woman paced back and forth in her kitchen nervously tugging at the telephone cord.
"His name? Eric Schrader. He's President of Clarke College."
"How long? He was due back home at 5:15 tonight. He called from the office at 4:15 tonight saying he had one on campus stop and that he would then be coming straight home."
"What do you mean you can't process my report? He's never been late in twenty nine years of marriage. Now he's at least five hours late."
"He walks from the college. He can't be caught up in traffic."
"If he was admitted to a hospital it would be at the college. They know him and would have called me."
"His secretary confirmed that he left on time."
"If he were going to have an affair why would he first tell me he was coming home?"
"I know people are out staring at the changes in the moon, but he could have done that here at home."
"Rioting? I haven't heard about any rioting." She reached to the portable television on the counter nearby and turned it on but left the sound off. The very first channel had pictures of rioting."
"Oh, my god." The telephone fell from her hand a she slumped to a chair.
"Let's review. What do we know so far?"
"More than we ever wanted to know about Richard's childhood." Josef slumped back onto the couch and rubbed her tired eyes.
"Be serious. We've learned that Richard believes that there is no such thing as reality, that what we perceive as reality is nothing more than a shared delusion." Josef watched the immaculately trimmed french poodle lecturing him and burst into giggles.
"Grrr. Now what's wrong?"
"I...I'm sorry." The giggles were slowly brought under control although they weren't completely gone if the smile was any indication. "I couldn't help myself. You've got to realize that being lectured by a big white poodle with pink ribbons is at least a little bit funny." Dean just stared back.
"Or maybe not...I apologize if I've insulted you. Please continue.
"Harumph. Where was I. Oh, yes, 'shared delusion.' He further postulates that it is the body of these shared delusions that creates the world we know." Dean's eyes unfocused for a moment. "If that's true, disagreements regarding what is true or real are merely the result of inconsistencies in the shared delusion. A classic example of this could be the psychiatric condition called 'folie a deux.'"
"You mean communicated insanity where if one of two people living together for long time is insane the other will tend to develop similar characteristics and seem insane also?"
"Yes, exactly." Josef barely stifled a giggle as she watched the dog's head bobbing up and down in agreement.
"Now what's wrong?" Josef swallowed hard before responding.
"I don't know. I can't seem to stop giggling. I wonder if it's one of the side effects of Richard's curse?"
"Could be. All the more reason to hurry, isn't it." Josef gulped and nodded. She tucked her legs under her and attempted with moderate success to be serious and attentive.
"Anyway, bizarre as it seems, there could be some merit to this. The real trick seems to be to impact on the 'fictons.'"
"Huh?"
"Fictons are what Richard calls the basic building blocks of reality, like atoms are supposed to be the basic building blocks of matter. To continue the analogy, where the application of energy is what changes atomic matter, the application of thought, most specifically belief, is what changes fictons."
"You mean something is because I believe it is?" Josef excitedly closed her eyes and clapped her hands. "I'm a man. I'm a man. I'm a man."
"Are you done?"
"Sure, now that I'm back to ... I'm not back to normal am I?" Dean shook his head.
"Why not? What did I do wrong?" Josef pouted.
"Maybe you should let me finish. As I said, the primary factor is belief. You need to be able to completely believe without doubt and without reference to anything of reality."
"So what references can you use?"
"You look so pretty when you crinkle your nose." Dean laughed.
"Doggy mirth is not a pretty thing." Josef tried to look stern and angry but her laughter spoiled the effect.
"That's O.K. There's a dearth of mirth on the earth."
"I'll bet you can't say that three times fast without drooling, doggy breath." It took a while for the laughter to trail off.
"I think we're getting slap happy. That was not an exchange worth laughing at."
"I'm forced to agree with you, Josef. To continue then, reference is the next issue. Richard seems to believe that the only stable immutable reference can be yourself."
"You mean I have to be an egomaniac?"
"Basically, yes, but more so. An egomaniac feels he is the center of the universe. You must feel that you are the universe."
"Fine. What else?" Josef yawned.
"Only one more thing, belief. You must be able to extend your belief into the world around you." Josef didn't bother to prompt the poodle. Instead she waited patiently for Dean to continue.
"Much like the kind of salesman Dale Carnegie proposes in 'How to Win Friends and Influence People,' you must convince the world that you are right."
"How do I do that?"
"That's where this manuscript gets really esoteric. I'm still not sure, but it seems that it is a matter of 'force of will,' whatever that means." Josef scratched her head and thought a moment.
"So, if I understand correctly, I have to be able to do three things: I have to believe something is true, I have to believe that I am the only real thing that exists, and I have to somehow proselytize so that everything else believes me." Dean sat back on his haunches and licked his chops.
"That seems to be it. Only one more problem, the obvious and unfortunate implication of being the only real thing in the universe is that you can't change yourself."
End -- Part 2 of 4
Comments
This Looks To Be One Wild Ride
I wonder what the heck happens next?
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine