CHAPTER 3

Gradually the waves of pleasure dissipated and, slowly, oh so slowly, her reason returned. Something had happened. At first she could not recall what. She imagined she had dreamed. Perhaps she had fallen, and hit her head. She? She knew that was wrong. She was he. He was he. His sister had been here…with a lover. That’s when she had started dreaming of things that could not be. The hunger no longer gripped her. Like fog fading in the morning sun, the mists clouding her mind began to clear.

With awareness came recollection. With recollection came a breathless, nameless foreboding. It would be wrong to call it fear. Her character of now was no less courageous than his character of then. Even more, how can one be afraid of something so obviously impossible? It was inconceivable that she should be a girl. As she considered it, she vaguely supposed it must have been some kind of hallucination or walking dream. She didn’t know how it had happened; but it must have been. She didn’t dare open her eyes. Keeping them tightly shut allowed her to prolong the fiction that everything that had happened in that kitchen had been a product of temporary delirium. Nevertheless, she had to know for sure. Still on her back, in the position she’d been in during the last sex act, she touched herself. Tentatively, she put her hands on her breasts–and gasped as her “delusion” rubbed against her palms; her nipples stimulated at the touch. Courage she had aplenty; but some things are just too much. Confirmation that she had a woman’s breasts teetered on the edge of colossally too much. Now, openly terrified at what she might discover, she moved those delicate hands downward stopping at the place where her penis could no longer be found. Panic, the mind-killer, erupted like an exploding power station; flaring electric sparks that went shooting through her.

Desperately she tried to keep her mind balanced. She felt she walked a tightrope; a fall to one side leading to hysteria; to the other…oblivion.

For his part, he was standing now, leaning against the kitchen counter, his cock limp, curved downward; but still long, still thick, and still the essence of man. His condition surprised him. He couldn’t recall the last time he was flaccid in the presence of a beautiful naked woman. Surprised or no, hard or dangling, he found he didn’t want to leave her side. Even more than that: he realized he couldn’t bear to part from her. At first he thought it was just curiosity that held him. He’d had no reason to linger with lovers before. He’d made countless exits while they recovered from the pleasure he’d given them. None had ever suffered by his disappearance. But then, they’d all started the tryst, and ended it, as women. This one though…this one was, obviously, unique. Even he did not know if she would recover.

But, shockingly, her recovery mattered. He could not, at that moment, figure out why.

Equally unexpected was his growing awareness of how important it had become that he do his best to help her. His gift had, without fail, always brought women joy. That he might leave one stricken gnawed at his conscience. Perhaps, he thought, it would be all right. In fact, considering what he was, he was sure it would be. She’d look up and see him once again, and, as was always the case, be overcome by him. No matter how many orgasms he might give them, they always remained enraptured, ready for more, till he left them. Perhaps, as yet another possibility, she might revel in her new gender; recalling the sex and eager to experiment further. He was man, writ large. That alone, he believed, would set her right. Or, perhaps, she would return to manhood. He didn’t understand why that particular thought troubled him.

In any event, the man was wrong. She did none of those things.

Instead, she wailed, a piercing call of confusion, fear and grief. She curled into a fetal ball, crying for her lost manhood; in dread of what may have taken it. Her shoulders shook with whimpering sobs as tears coursed down her cheeks. For many minutes she lay upon the unyielding kitchen linoleum; her thoughts scattered and unfocused. Sometimes she tried to convince herself that, when next she looked, her breasts would be gone and her penis would be back. At other moments self-pity washed through her; bone deep...soul deep. Still other times she asked God how this might have come to be…or cursed God for letting it happen. These things occupied her, by turns, over and over and over again.

He gave her time to manage the initial shock; but watched her carefully; anxious for her well-being, and ready to try to pull her back to sanity should she show any sign she might completely slip away into madness. It occurred to him that, if the worst should come to pass, he would lament her loss…keenly. That thought, though foreign to his nature, came strongly.

“What’s happened to me?” Words torn from a raw throat.

“You have become a woman,” answered the commanding presence that guarded her; determined to protect her during her bewilderment and anguish.

“What did you do to me?”

“Nothing; except make love to you.”

“But I'm a girl.”

“You are a woman.”

“It can’t be!”

“It is.”

Once again her body shook as she wept. Her sorrow tugged at his heart.

‘Why does she cry still?’ he thought. ‘How can she resist the hunger?’ He believed his voice alone should have reawakened her lust. His very existence in the room should have forced her into subservient arousal. He was stunned that it did not. He cast about for some other way to help her. He could think of only one other thing he could do. It seemed such a small act.

He knelt beside her and began to stoke her hair.

He spoke calmly and softly recognizing she was crystal and could shatter with just one more blow. For the first time that he could recall, he wanted to comfort a lover; to look after her. He had never left a woman in need; but this was a different feeling; more profound. He could not imagine from whence it had arisen.

His hand at her hair, his words in her ears, his presence by her side…were all that kept her from emotional collapse.

“But how? It’s not possible,” she whispered.

“It is possible. The proof is you.”

“It’s never happened to anyone before.”

“I haven’t heard of exactly this,” he admitted. “This is new…and…incredible. But transformations are not entirely unknown; almost, but not completely. It requires tremendous power and need…power and need that transcends physics; that overwhelms the laws set upon nature. Those who undergo such a change never, ever, talk about it to others. I have lived a very long time. I am well traveled. I have…acquaintances…who know a very great deal of the workings of the arcane world. I have heard rumors of similar things, but till now I had never witnessed it. And all the adepts I have heard speak of this kind of ability told of transformations far less complicated…far less controlled…than this. Some great mystics are said to be able to alter their shape; but only in trifling ways, and only in the most ancient stories are there examples of shifters who could alter their mass. And to have altered both mass...and...reality...is an accomplishment only hinted in the oldest of our texts. Still, there are, in the records, examples of profound transformations. It is certainly true, though, that what has happened here far surpasses anything I have experienced; anything I've heard of having happened in...centuries.

She might have wondered exactly how he came by such curious and remarkable knowledge. But the question didn’t occur to a mind that had all it could do to maintain a grip on the thin fragile thread that tied her to reality.

“You must be magic…a sorcerer…there must be some explanation. Change me back! Her luminous green eyes were transparent windows revealing an unstable mind as she bounced between hope and anguish.

“No, not a sorcerer. I am something else.”

“Please, please change me back!”

Slowly, still stroking her hair, he whispered, “I can’t.”

Her breathing stopped at his words; then, after a few moments, resumed in rapid shallow gasps like a dog’s panting. The thought ‘I am a girl’ flared across her mind like a comet, to be followed by twin meteors ‘how did this happen?’ and ‘what will become of me?’ Then, as the cosmic fireworks faded, darkness gathered round her, closing in, her area of awareness contracting smaller…and smaller still…till, as though seeing the sun from the bottom of a well, she stared through a small circle of light. She struggled to hold that circle open; to keep her connection to the light. Her head shifted, and with it, the focus of her vision, till, finally his face came within the small window of consciousness. She saw his eyes; a lifeline that tied her to reality. With that connection, the contraction of her consciousness stopped.

His power was not diminished. He was constant. Just as she had at the moment she first laid eyes on him, she sensed raw animal vigor. She recognized his utter masculinity, his physical strength, and his complete mastery of himself. But his effect upon her was no longer instantaneous lust. Instead, in his eyes, in his presence, she found something else. She found kindredship. She found a companion dedicated to her revival. Her soul became a tuning fork, vibrating to the beating of his heart. The clear musical note their proximity created between them was the anchor that held her reason in place. His look of sympathy and understanding generated yet another thread connecting them. She drew strength from his gaze.

They sat in silence for a few moments. Eventually, her breathing slowed. The look of wild panic drained from her eyes. Little by little, she relaxed, and the circumference of her universe expanded.

Finally he spoke again; his voice gentle. “I do not know how it is that you can be in my presence and not…”

“Not throw myself at you?” she said; the words pregnant with bitterness.

“Exactly.”

He considered for a moment, realizing he’d never encountered another soul like hers. Not among the usual folk; nor even among his special friends. A note of awe entering his voice, he said, “There is nothing in the world like you.”

Tears filled her eyes anew as she whispered, “I know. I'm a freak.”

He shook his head forcefully. He looked deeply into the green agate of her eyes as if he hoped the mystery of her existence would be revealed in them. What had happened to her was beyond imagining. Even now, she behaved as no other could. Her will, her awareness, her courage, had to come from resources within her.

She did not flinch or fidget as his eyes bored into her. He saw her; really saw her.

"Your strength…your sense of self…amazes…amazes even me. The unbelievability of what just happened, and the ripping away of identity, should have destroyed you. Yet you have overcome it. That is…impressive."

She turned her face from him; doubt etched upon her features.

“Be easy, breathe deeply, rest…and I shall explain as best I am able.” What had been the young mans shirt was nearby. He reached for it and folded the flannel into a pillow for her head. He never stopped petting her. Soon he began speaking. In a way, it was as though he was trying to work things out for himself, as much as he was trying to help her to understand.

“I can’t change you back because I did not change you to begin with. All that I provided was the inspiration.”

“Then how…?” she whispered.

“You weren’t supposed to be home,” said the magnificent man kneeling beside her. “Yet you were. I should have sensed you. But I did not. You entered the house. You walked into this room.”

“Yes.”

“You came through that swinging door. Remember?”

“Yes.”

“You saw me…and your…sister, I imagine. She was here…,” and he pointed to the counter. I was between her legs. We were pleasuring each other.”

“Yes.”

“You saw the look upon her face.”

“It was delight. I saw delight on her face.”

“Yes, you did. She was nude and I was in her.” His tone sharpened. “Your sister, sitting naked on your parents kitchen counter. Yet, you said nothing. You did not scream out to me to stop or threaten me. You made no sound, nor did you move to interfere, as I fucked your sister,” he said, his language deliberately provocative.

“No.”

“Why? Were you frightened? Were you weak?”

“I just couldn’t. I could see how…joyous…she was; how deeply and intensely you were pleasing her. I couldn’t take that away from her.”

“So, it wasn’t weakness, but a care for your sisters happiness that stayed your hand.”

“Yes.”

“And, at that moment, a fire was kindled within you.”

“Yes.”

“It burned inside you.”

“Yes.”

“You knew your sister burned too; but with a different sort of heat.”

“Yes.”

“You felt your sister deserved her pleasure?”

“Yes.”

“And you saw as we achieved climax together.”

“Yes.”

“You saw her face.”

“Yes.”

“What did you see?”

“Bliss.”

“And the fire inside you flared hotter.”

“Yes.”

“And you envied her pleasure.”

“Yes.”

“You would not rob her of her moment…but you wanted what she had. You wanted it too.”

“More than anything.”

“And that fire spread…till you felt it in every part of your body.”

“Yes.”

“Where did you feel it?”

“In my belly. In my chest. My heart. My head. My arms and hands. My legs and feet. My eyeballs burned.”

“And your cock and balls?”

“Yes, in my cock…a bar of flame….my balls…boiling.”

“The more you looked the hotter the fires.”

“Yes.”

“Then what happened?”

“I was filled with it…filled with the fire. I couldn’t believe it didn’t shoot out my eyes and burn everything I looked at. I had to put it out. I had to quench the flames or I’d die. But to do that, I needed to know how! I needed to know where they came from. I looked at my sister. She didn’t cause me to burn. I looked at you. You were…are…wondrous. I don’t know…splendid. But there was more than that; there was more than how entirely you aroused me. It was as though I could see past the passion; past the lust, into…you…how you really are. And, when I looked deeply, I found…something else. You are so alone in there. You are….you are so magnificent…and so tragic.”

“Empath,” he said.

“What?”

“You have a capacity; a talent. You know what others feel, what their emotions are. You can affect how they feel. That is why the hunger came to you, a man…you had the ability to see me as women do; and to see even deeper, far past the limits the hunger imposes on all others. You are an empath. I imagine you have always been this way.”

She thought back. That she could perceive such things would explain much.

“Being with me magnified that skill…many times. And so, with your talent, you saw what no other has. You saw beyond my penis.”

“I felt insanely aroused by you. I had to have you. And I had to…” She searched for just the right word. “I had to sustain you. I had to nourish you. You needed me as much as I needed you. You were the source of my fire. But not…not just…the sex. Sex was a way to…join…with you…be with you…help you. I burned for your…affection.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “you did.”

“Only you could put out my flames.”

“I know.”

“I thought sex might be enough. I thought I could become one with you through sex.”

“I have been told that can happen.”

“I looked at your mouth…hoping you would let me use it…douse my flames with it. But I knew you wouldn’t. I looked at your ass…perhaps I could find relief there.”

“But you couldn’t.”

“No. You are male; blindingly male. You wouldn't take me into mouth or anus.”

“No, I would not. Damn me for it. For a creature like you, I should have.”

“You would not submit to me. I knew I must surrender to you.”

“And the flames grew even more fierce.”

She moaned. “Yes.”

“Your asshole trembled.”

“Yes.”

“How did it feel?”

“It…overpowered me. I felt empty and lost. It was though I was hollow inside. I had to be filled.”

“What did you do?”

“I turned and lowered myself to the floor; on my hands and knees. I offered you my ass.”

“For the sex?”

“Yes…no. Not entirely, not even mostly. Of course I wanted the pleasure. Oh God, I needed the pleasure. But more than that, I needed to touch…your heart…your soul. Somehow I knew you’d gone so long with nothing but the sensual. I hoped that maybe I could use the sensual to reach deeper inside you. You were so familiar with sex that I couldn’t imagine it would be the path to your soul. But it was all I had. I couldn’t think of any other way to help you.

“And the bonfire that was your being grew white hot…agonizingly hot.”

“Yes.”

“But I would not take your ass.”

“No.”

“What did you feel then.”

“Despair…the despair that a person must feel when facing a…an…

“Abyss?” he offered.

“Yes, an abyss. I thought…no, I knew it somehow, that, without you, I would be alone and lonely, as you are. And I knew, if I didn’t reach you somehow, that we’d both be doomed. Isolated...for all time.”

“Eternity.”

“Yes.”

“Like me.”

“Yes.”

“And you thought no one can bear to be so solitary.”

“Yes.”

“And still the fire flowed in your veins.”

“Yes.”

“And a thought came?”

“Yes.”

“What was it?”

“That you might…accept me, might make love to me, and allow me to comfort you, if I were a girl.”

“And the heat within you became molten; incandescent as the sun.”

“Yes.”

“And then it happened.”

“It happened.”

He shook his head. The events of the night, for a moment left him speechless. When he gazed on her again, in his eyes was something of the awe that others felt when they beheld him.

“Woman,” he said decisively, seeming to have worked through this miracle: “That nova within you melted you…it boiled your flesh from off your body…it turned bone to ash and scoured it away. From the puddle that remained, something was fashioned, something we both could accept. Something I would more than accept. Something I would want. Something that would touch the core of me. A woman…a woman wrought by you, ruled by you…but made for my heart.”

The corners of his lips turned upward in a little half-smile, “I didn’t change you,” he said, “You changed you.”

The young woman gasped as the truth of it hit her a hammer blow.

“You built that face…altering it as I watched and searching my mind for emotion that would signal I liked what you imagined…you shrank yourself, growing more petite in every way, till I signaled enough. You fashioned your limbs, your hands and feet, adjusting them till I smiled. You made your hips and your bottom; rounding them, softening them. You made your breasts; which, at first sight, made me scowl, for you made them ridiculously large, imagining such a caricature to be my preference. Then you shrank them, making them more what you wanted…till they suited your petite frame and your own internal images of beauty.

A flash of insight lit up the man’s face. “In the end, you didn’t become my idea of beauty. You became your own. What I wanted, what you read in my emotions, even then, was my desire that you become what you are destined to be.”

That face, your face: You fashioned the face of an angel. You made it entirely yours, as you imagine it should be…yet…it is wondrous to me. Finally you burned away your penis. With a supreme act of will, a titanic demonstration of resolve, spirit, and, yes, a ravenous craving; you shaped womb, and egg, and pussy.

“Yes,” came the long miserable whisper.

“Why then do you despair?”

“Because I don’t want to be a girl.”

The dominating man snorted in disdain. “Girl, you say? As I insisted a moment ago, you are a woman. And you are stunning.”

Her mouth twitched in a smile. Even now, compliments from him thrilled her…caused her to tremble…and could, even now, generate a tingling in her sex.

“Will I always be a girl…uhhm…woman? Can I change back?”

Compassion manifested on his face. “Part your legs.”

The former boy held her knees tightly together, unwilling to again confront her womanhood.

The man’s eyes widened in astonishment. He had spoken a command that a lover had refused! This woman had done it before and now did it again. During his life, there had been a few women who had hesitated for a moment. He’d been impressed by their strength. But none had ever refused him.

“Please…” A word he’d never spoken to a lover.

Slowly and hesitantly she opened herself.

He helped her to sit up, her back leaning against his powerful arm; his other hand still stroking her hair.

“Look between your legs. Tell me what you see.”

“A pussy.” Once again a tear appeared in her eye.

“What else?”

“Your…cum…leaking from me.”

“My cum. Yes. Why is it there? Why did I put it there?”

“Because I wanted it.”

“Because we wanted it,” he corrected her. “You climaxed while we were joined. Your passion tore screams from your throat as my cock moved within you. Do you remember?”

“Yes.”

“Can you so easily give up the joy you felt at our coupling? Is it so bad a thing to be loved as I have made love to you? You have created a truly special creature. The woman you made is…remarkable. The spirit that animates this womanly flesh is astounding and worthy of adoration. Now you would consign that creation to oblivion. Did you enjoy this flesh when I touched it? Did it serve you well when we made love?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “It was heaven in your arms. I wanted you.”

“I wanted you too.”

His eyes went distant as he pondered the truth he had just spoken. He had beheld her; and, in a moment of understanding, realized he wanted far more than just sex, had felt far more than simple passion. He had wanted her. His head tilted to one side as it occurred to him that his desire, like so much else that had happened this night, was different than anything he’d felt with any of the others.

“I wanted to make love to you…I wanted." For the first time he seemed confused; unsure. "I wanted to...make love...with an intensity I've not felt..in...maybe...with an intensity I've never felt before,” he said.

He shook his head; quickly recovering his calm self-assurance. “Because of my unique qualities, having sex is like breathing to me. But what I wanted, when I saw your transformation, was not merely to have sex…it was to have sex with the result of this spectacular event. It was to have sex with you. I was astonished that I might live to see this thing. I did not realize it then, that you are not just the object of this miracle, but also it's author. Your will is so compelling, it shifted reality. You caused that shift, that nearly impossible transmutation of what was, so that you could be with me. It is a gift beyond price.”

He sighed, “I am what I am. I have always been what I am. And yet, the power of your life force is staggering; even to me. It is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever known. Had I recognized it from the beginning...it might have…I might have…His face shone in amazement. I might have …” His voice trailed away to silence; a quiet that she filled.

“I did it because I had no choice. I had to find a way to be pleasing to you.”

“You please me. Your body pleases me. Your heart and spirit please me.”

She smiled happily but quickly grew somber again. “But, I can’t stay a woman.”

He was perplexed. He wondered how she could not see herself as a magical phoenix rising from the ashes.

At length he suggested the only way he could think of that she might recover the man she was. “The intensity of your desire,” he said, “the heat of your passion, and the power of your will reshaped you. If those things made you female, they can make you male again. All you have to do is want it badly enough.

The light of hope came into her eyes.

His eyes flashed. “Does that make you happy?” he thundered, anger and disappointment flaring rampant in his breast. “You long for the moment you again will be man? Whatever for? Does being a woman shame you? Do you believe that what has happened has somehow diminished you? How can you? It is nonsense and it is beneath you. No woman need lower her eyes in the presence of a man; nor ever consider him greater because of his gender. It is true that some of your abilities are different than once they were. In some ways weaker. In others stronger. But the sum of…you…is not less! Never imagine it! Unless you wish to make me angry.”

His hand cut across the air; his visage storm clouds and raging seas. “If you burn as you did to create this marvel of a woman; but with a fire to again be a man, you will be. If not, you will remain as you are. But…,” he trailed off for a moment, resuming in a tone softer, imploring “…search yourself, seek to understand yourself. Seek to know what truly you are. Listen to my words.” He paused. “You are a glorious woman.”

“Glorious?”

Wonder came to her face as the sun rose in her heart; for he had called her glorious. She shook free of the lethargy she’d felt and stood, staring down at her body; seeing it, truly, for the very first time. Could he be right? Was she glorious? The light shone again in her eyes, and exuded from her so that the whole room seemed to glow. This time it was the brightness of illumination.

She became aware of herself: not as lover, not as a disconsolate soul, not as a victim…but as a woman.

He followed her to his feet. She now stood 5’3”, reaching only to his shoulders.

“I am a glorious woman.”

“Yes.”

Her mind reeled yet again, but her thoughts were not dominated by what she had lost. Other things struggled for a place in the firmament of her consciousness. Depth and breadth of emotion she had never imagined before flooded through her. Colors seemed more vivid and new shades enhanced the pleasure that came just from seeing. She felt connected to life in ways she could scarcely believe.

“I am beautiful?”

“You are perfect. Never fear, for you are lovely.”

“I am glorious?”

“Yes.”

“But I was once a man.”

“The spirit, my darling, is not of any sex and is of both. That which gives life to flesh does not know gender. I now think you were born to balance me…and, because the universe loves a jest, you were born male. You could just as easily have been born female and been what you are. Courage, heart, strength of will…these are not things of penis and vagina. They are things of the spirit. This miracle, like every other, could not have been wrought drawing upon only half of life. It took the energy of both male and female, yin and yang, to accomplish what you have done. You have chosen to be woman. You have chosen to be what you are. You have chosen to be what you have always been. By all the gods, old, new, many and one, you are magnificent.

“But my family…my friends…my life?”

“The exercise of your will was an awesome release of power. I’ll say it again: I have never seen it’s like. You warped all of what was…and made it into what is. No one will remember him. All will know, and admire, her.”

“But is it still me in here? I was happy. I was strong. I was an athlete.”

“Aren’t you still? Look inside yourself…remember.”

For several seconds she went silent. Her look was serious and introspective as she accessed the memories of her life. She still could recall all that she had done as a man. But there were new memories; additional experiences that crowded in and now seemed even more real to her.

“I'm a gymnast.”

“I am not surprised.”

“I'm a good one.”

“I am even less surprised.”

“I remember the things I did as a boy…as though they are fascinating stories I once read and can never forget.”

“You have not changed who you are. You have changed the flesh that contains it. You have altered what is, and what has been, so that it nurtures your spirit.”

“But something has changed. Something other than the shape of my body and my history.”

“What?”

She looked at him, all of him, and her breath caught.”

“I have a craving…for a man. Is it all men? Or is it just your power.”

He knew she might carry this doubt with her; that, unless he could answer her unspoken question, this might trouble her forever. Yet it should not! He was careful to explain. “Some of our yearnings are controlled by our mind. Some of them by our body. Still others are governed by our heart. Consider: The majority of humans with the male physiology prefer women as mates. Likewise, the majority of women find men most desirable. Why? It is true across history and in very nearly every culture. Why? If physical form were meaningless in determining sexual preference, would the correlation between form and preference be so strong? No! Of course, there are exceptions. Sometimes, variances of chemistry, brain architecture, and genetics overcome anatomy. For those in whom that happens; their truth is neither more, nor less, valid than any other. Still, most commonly, we seek out the other gender. You have remade yourself on every level. Your desires have changed because your body has changed. The architecture of your mind has changed. Your chemistry has changed. The building blocks of your anatomy have changed. Your spirit stays out of the way for it is neither male nor female; and yet, it is both man and woman. And,” he sought out her eyes and held them in his gaze, “there is me.”

“I am a woman.”

“Dazzlingly so.”

“Will I come to like it?”

“Don't you already? No, don't answer. I understand your question. I can’t know for certain, of course. But, I believe, if you will allow yourself, you will come very close to forgetting you were ever anything else. The man you once were would be to you no different than the infant you once were: both babe and boy necessary to the creation of the woman you grew to be. One day both will be sweet memories. I will be there to help you.”

She asked him, “Do you love me?”

A puzzled look spread momentarily across his face as he turned his focus inward, as she had, his expression gradually evolving to astonishment that such a thing as love could happen so swiftly; or, to him, at all. As she had become aware of her changes; so he became aware of the changes that her existence had wrought in him. And it came to him that, just a moment ago and entirely without thinking, he’d called her “darling.” It had been nothing but simple truth. He smiled as he considered the wondrous spirit that stood before him and the gift she had made of herself.

“Yes, my love. I love you.”

Words, again, that he’d never spoken before.

Words that turned her knees to warm butter.

Words that flooded her heart.

“That’s good,” she said. “I need to be loved. I love you too.”

Her radiant smile elevated her beauty to the level that poets reserve for a goddess. Without hesitation she flowed to him and embraced him, sighing contentedly as he took her into his arms. His embrace was all that kept her from falling.

Still, one concern nibbled on the edges of this perfect moment.

“What of my sister?”

“She was…overcome…by what I am. She didn’t see me. Not really. That was my curse. Your sister will not be able to describe me. She was aware only of the force of my personality. Tomorrow, she will remember that a man she wanted made love to her. It will not seem odd to her that his features escape her recollection. She will remember him very fondly. It has always been thus for me and the women I take.”

With a start he realized that was no longer true. Now he would know a woman who saw into his soul and who would hold his heart in her hands.

“When will you leave me?”

“Not soon,” he said, and then amended, “Not ever.”

“Will I have to shoo away every woman who comes near?

“I could control my attraction in some ways; attenuate it. I can spread awareness of me widely, or focus it very narrowly. Otherwise,” he grinned ruefully, “I couldn’t so much as go to the grocery store. Yet something is different now.”

Experimenting, the man extended his talent. His features dissolved to shock as he discovered it would spread no farther than the girl in his arms. “You are my opposite,” he said, “and together our talents balance. I suppose, when you are near, other women will see me as a man.” He laughed, long and hearty, “An extraordinarily big, strong, powerful, good looking man; but, a man nevertheless.” And, in that moment, a new truth revealed itself in his heart; and one more time, wonder bloomed across his features. “That part of my life appears to be over.” A look of joy painted his face. “Thank God.”

“Good,” she said, caressing his strong jaw. “Because you belong to me now. I imagine I intend to be the jealous type.”

I suppose,” he said, playfulness enlivening his words, “if you meet a woman transcendently beautiful; with a loving, generous spirit and iron will, you might again burn hot enough to transform. That would certainly make me jealous.”

For the first time since walking through the swinging kitchen door, she had the urge to laugh. It emerged a feminine giggle.

“But,” he went on, “I fear such a thing would be difficult. For you would have to meet yourself.”

She smiled yet again, poking him firmly in the ribs. She was as modest now as she ever was.

For several long minutes they stood, in her parent’s kitchen, wrapped in each others arms.

Eventually she kissed him. It was a tender kiss; one that was answered with equal gentleness.

“I’m suddenly very tired,” she said, laying her head against his broad, heavily muscled chest. He easily lifted her off her feet, and carried her to bed.

She slept soundly, awoke by his side, and arose resplendent.