This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity.

Most of the jargon found in the Whateley Universe is fairly self explanatory, when common acronyms are used for the first time, I have included the expanded version as an explanation. If you would like a deeper explanation of the terms or background information on the 'cannon' characters, see:

http://crystalhall.wikia.com/wiki/Table_of_Contents

February 2007 First Signs

The first hints of disaster were around the time of my thirteenth birthday. I was in my 1st year of secondary school, (what Americans call junior high,) and my crazy uncle Dave had come for one of his rare visits. The rest of my family were less than enthusiastic about him, but I liked the guy. He was a geeky dropout, with amazing travel stories that were so implausible, they just had to be true. Anyway, he had shown me a stupid, highly addictive game called 'minesweeper' and I seemed to have the knack, I could almost see the patterns.

A few days later, when I was getting my daily minesweeper fix, my uncle came into my room for a chat. As he watched me play, I became increasingly nervous. Not just because of his studied silence, but because of a strong feeling that my life was heading for the rocks. Finally, as I turned to face him, he said to me: “That's impossible!”

“Huh!”

“Look.” he replied: “Some patterns can't be solved by 'logic' they can only be solved by using a statistical method called 'constraint satisfaction'....”

“Huh!”

Sighing, he painfully showed me how some/many patterns were, in practical terms, unsolvable except by guessing before going into a dissertation about some obscure mathematical theorem called N-P complete and its implications for solving 'minesweeper type' problems. Okay, so far this was fairly typical for my uncle. He then stunned me by saying that a rough calculation he had done in his head showed the frequency of my correct guesses to be so far outside the bounds of chance, they were practically in outer space. Pausing to think for a moment, he told me: “Come on, lets go and get a burger.”

Half an hour later, we were in the local 'Burger King' with a play slip for the EuroMillion lottery draw. The current roll-over jackpot was an estimated £169 million. When he asked me to choose the numbers I felt had the best chance of winning, the creep factor was: 'Yeugh!'

On the other hand, I had a strong feeling that this was going to become very important down the road. So, after a bit of teenage whining I did as he asked. It was then he dropped his bombshell: “Listen kiddo, I think you might be what is called a 'pre-cog', a pretty powerful one. If I am right and people find out, your life won't be worth diddlely squat. You have to keep quite about this. Okay?”

When I gave a wide eyed nod in reply, he continued: “If the numbers come up, the money will be there for you when you need it, and you will need it. A pre-cog is a type of mutant; and, regardless of what those stupid television adverts say, the Mutant Commiission Office are not your friend. You got it?”

With my eyes becoming ever wider I nodded once again, as he continued: “We will drive around a bit and let you calm down, and once I get you home, I am going to disappear on one of my trips. Irrespective of whether the numbers come up, I am going to make some enquiries, and will ask some friends to keep an eye on you. If things go pear shaped, keep in mind I will be looking for you. Okay?”

Sitting in the car, my mind was spinning. This was a potential disaster of epic proportions, there was the official line about the MCO pushed by the tabloids, but most of my friends were frightened of them. Contrary to what adults think, kids are not stupid, and the rumour mill was rife with stories of brother, sisters or cousin manifesting as mutants and disappearing into dark labs. Sure, a lot of parents, and by extension there children were pro 'Humanity First', but amongst my friend there was always the undertone of 'what if one of us manifests and disappears?'

For me this prospect was particularly serious, while not an active member of H1, my father was a drunken thug whose opinions on mutants made it likely I wouldn't live long enough to disappear into an MCO dark lab. His opinion of my crazy uncle, (my mother's brother,) does not bear repeating, and my mother herself lived in such a state of fear from my fathers rages that I had learned never to expect any help from her.

Before dropping me off at the house, my uncle once again warned me to keep quite about his suspicions. Needless to say, I assured him I had absolutely no intentions of telling anyone, let alone my father. He then reassured me that everything would be okay, but if the numbers did come up, and it came out that his nephew was a pre-cog, we would be in deep shit. As he saw it, it would likely take a month or two for him to cover his tracks and get me away from 'that bloody lunatic'.

Three days later, I went on the internet to check the numbers for the EuroMillion's draw and realised my life was crash diving into the ocean. There was a single winner of £172 million pounds who was choosing to remain anonymous. Even though we lived in Edinburgh and the winning ticket had been bought in Southampton, I was fairly sure it was my uncle. Surprisingly, I was reassured by this thought. If it had been my father, I know for a fact I would never have heard from him again, he would just have taken the money and ran. But my uncle? There was something about him that cried out: 'I am rogue, but I am good.'

July 2007 The Web of Fate

Over the next few months, at least outwardly, things started to shape up. I was in the middle of a fairly abrupt growth spurt and had filled out quite a bit, my eyes took on deeper shade of blue, my hair became even more blond, and for a thirteen year old, I had quite a rugged, robust physique. It was nothing particularly exceptional, if it hadn't been for the conversation with my uncle I would have put it down to good genes. Luckily, this was the explanation my father latched onto, he was ecstatic, and actually started to treat me like a human being. Because of my pre-cog abilities, I was excelling at team sports. Okay, my reflexes, strength and coordination were much improved, but I was also better able to anticipate the opposing teams tactics and position myself to exploit their mistakes. The girls in my school started to notice, and were hanging around a lot. Which, of course, made my father even happier. This meant frequent affectionate thumps on the back as he bragged to his friends about me being a chip off the old block.

Inwardly, my life was in turmoil.

In my dreams and quite moments I was being visited by what I can only describe as spirits who were offering to join with me in some kind of psychic meld. They described me as being an avatar, which after some research, I understood to be a mutant who could join with a guardian spirit, and take on certain aspects of the spirit's nature. Depending on which particular web-site I referenced, this did not seem too serious. You know, compared to having extreme Gross-Structural-Dystrophy, getting the strength and ferocity of a bear or the cunning of a fox didn't seem such a bad deal. On the other hand, some web-sites suggested that 'aspects of the spirit' was more than metaphorical; and, for me at least, the idea of literally turning into a bear was less than appealing. Even worse, I had a very strong foreboding that certain disaster would follow if I accepted any of these offers. I mean real, catastrophic disaster, not just for me, but for everyone: My family, the world, possibly even the very universe itself.

You can imagine how I felt, I was thirteen years old, and really did not understand what was happening to me. To cap it all off, I had no one I could safely talk with, and was beginning to think it was all a sign of incipient insanity. Anxious to know when my uncle would return, I decided to try to use my pre-cog abilities. Okay, it was a stupid thing to attempt; I had no idea what I was doing, and could not even begin to imagine the possible dangers.

After reading a few misinformed articles and a number of works of fiction that were based on pure fantasy, I settled down cross legged on my bed, and entered what I naively thought of as a meditative trance. Imagining a path before me, I stepped onto it and promptly got lost. I was stuck in a kaleidoscopic web of possible futures, each future worse than the last. How bad was it? Worse than your worst nightmare: We are talking of successive visions of a literal 'hell on earth' with no way to stop them. Demon spawn herding people like cattle, dark mages and demonic cults engaging in unspeakable rites; and, ruling over all: Demonic Gods spreading their corruption throughout the universe to races and planets that had never even heard of 'Planet Earth'.

Trying to escape back to the real world, I leapt blindly from strand to strand, each worse than the last. Someone who is not a powerful pre-cog cannot understand the nature of eternity and how long I was trapped in this 'web of fate'. What saved me was an old woman calling to me. Leaping from one possible future to another, I was able to narrow down her location.

She called herself Mrs, Potter and explained to me our conversation was an echo of a conversation we 'might' have at some future date. I have got to admit, because of what I had seen, I was not really listening. I was nearly hysterical, crying and demanding to know if it was real and would happen the way I had foreseen. Calming me, she assured me there was a way to escape. As she put it, a nexus was forming and I would have a choice. Making the correct choice would involve me sacrificing many hopes and ambitions; but eventually, I would gain a great deal from this sacrifice. Not just for myself, but possibly enough to tip the balance of fate away from the visions of the 'hell to come' I had foreseen. When I asked her to show me, she told me I would have to wait until I arrived at 'Whateley' before she could even begin to teach me about my gift.

Seeming to sense my confusion, she explained that I would have to trust my instincts and wait for the right moment, but my innate abilities would guide me through what was to come. Promising that we would meet in the real world soon, she showed me a simple exercise to help me focus and regain my body.

I woke up into a nightmare!

July 2007 The Nightmare begins

Okay, I will probably repeat this many times, but being a powerful pre-cog really sucks. While I was as yet untrained and without focus, as a result of my wandering lost in the 'web', I had a rough idea of what my fate would be over the next few months. The details lacked definition, but the general direction and ultimate destination were unavoidable. I was aware from 'possible' future conversations that my parents had found me unconscious in my room and called for an ambulance. The hospital had quickly diagnosed that I was experiencing a mild 'burnout' due to my manifesting as a mutant. I had now been unconscious for over a week and was currently chained to a hospital bed with two power armoured MCO agents standing guard.

When I opened my eyes, a Doctor quickly bustled over, and after a cursory examination, exclaimed: “It is fit to travel, you can get this piece of filth out of here.” More for the sake of playing out the role assigned to me than any hope of salvation, I did what any self respecting thirteen year old would do and screamed: “I want my mum!”

Telling me to “shut the fuck up,” one of the power armour goons stepped menacingly towards me and, with the help of the Doctor, fastened a choke collar around my neck. As he did this, he cheerfully explained that, with the aid of the servos on the power armour, he was quite capable of pulling the leash tight enough to squeeze my head off. Worse, I knew that he had taken sadistic pleasure in actually doing this to a couple of mutant kids, and would do so again in the future. While this was going on, the other goon had been speaking into a communicator. After he had finished, he reported: “They will be here in about half an hour, they have to stop en-route to pick up the 'filths' parents.” Turning to me, he spat: “How could you do this to them 'gene filth', they are decent people.”

I repeat, being a powerful pre-cog really sucks. Calling someone like my father a decent person was a real stretch, I was well aware of how he would react to having a mutant son. What I had not been aware of was how my mother would react. Resigned to playing out the nightmare, I closed my eyes, settled back on the bed, and sent out a mental command: <Come to me!>

'Princess Selene, Beloved Daughter of the Court of the Moon' had been the scion of a minor ally to the 'Five fold Court'. She had a beauty that was magically crafted to be a weapon in the long war leading upto the 'Sundering'. Trained in the arts of espionage, assassination, infiltration and insurgency, hers was a beauty designed to give her power over all but the most resolute males. As I reached for her, she held back saying: <No! It is too early. You are in great danger, and have to be cunning like a fox. If I join with you now, you will gain my powers and this will make it harder for you to hide what you can do.> When she sensed me give a mental shrug of agreement, she continued: <You realise joining with me will change you?> With my further agreement, she finished by saying: <You are very brave, now don't worry I will be with you always, and will not let harm fall upon you.>

With that she was gone.

Shortly after, my mother stormed into the hospital room. It should have been a moment of relief, but I didn't even need to open my eyes to see the look of hatred on her face as she said: “You disgusting piece of gene filth, we are decent people. How dare you embarrass us like this, we wanted to make absolutely sure you understood. You are dead. The good doctor here is a decent man, and was kind enough to give us a death certificate. We had your funeral two day's ago, if they ever let you out, do not embarrass us further. Stay away from us!”

July 2007 Rescue?

I didn't even get a chance to put on proper clothes, wearing a flimsy paper hospital gown, and bracketed by the two MCO agents, I was quickly bustled out into a waiting armoured security van. Once I was strapped into the restraint chair, the goons ignored me and I was free to review what was about to happen, and my plans for escape.

For most pre-cogs, the ability is limited to a strong hunch or even a flash-vision they can use as a guide in their day to day lives. Exceptionally powerful pre-cogs can go beyond this and step into the 'web of fate' to study possible futures in detail. This is what I had inadvertently done; and, as I had discovered, without proper training it is incredibly dangerous. Until I got to Whateley and began my training, I had no intention of returning to the web. For now, I would have to rely on the insights I had gained during my first disastrous visit. Though I did have one advantage: In common with many other mutant abilities, a pre-cog manifests slowly over months or years. Either because of the burnout or because I had stepped into the web, the more base form of my ability was now fully developed, and for the next few months I was going to have to exercise it with the dexterity of a juggler.

How to explain this to a mundane: Imagine there is a very complicated maze, and for a few seconds you are given the briefest glimpse of a map. To escape from the maze, you must navigate through a succession of deadly traps to a specific point, arriving at a specified time. Failure to navigate the traps or arrive at the specified time would result not only in my death, but almost ensure the inevitability of the hell which I had foreseen.

Like I say, I was only thirteen years old. The MCO goons mistook the tears running down my face as a response to my situation as a prisoner of the MCO, and tried to rub my nose in how truly screwed I was. Torturing me with details of the medical experiments performed by Dr Emil Hammond, they could not even begin to imagine the real fears I was being overwhelmed with.

Ironically, what really saved my sanity was the fact that my vision was incomplete. Given my situation, this might seem a real cause for concern, but can you imagine having to live your life knowing in advance every single second of your fate. At the risk of repeating myself, being a pre-cog really, really sucks.

After a few hours, we pulled into an abandoned RAF airfield where an unmarked drop ship awaited us. The MCO goons believed I was being transferred to Dr Hammond's lab, in reality I knew that I was being 'rescued' by a super villain named Baron Blitzen, an old time Nazi intent on building a mutant army to further his political goals. This was my first real test.

After I had been fastened into another restraint chair in the cargo hold of the drop ship, the MCO goons disembarked. When we were in the air, a young woman in military fatigues entered the hold. Releasing me from the chair and escorting me to a comfortable passenger area, she assured me I was being rescued and that everything would be okay. She was a telepath and was scanning me.

Okay, I now had future knowledge of my powers as they would be without my joining with Princess Selene. I would eventually use this loophole to disguise the real nature of my powers, and my MID would be as follows:

• Avatar 5: Meaning my mind would not be 'shredded' when I eventually joined with Princess Selene.
• Exemplar 2: Basically, without my Avatar trait, I would have been cursed with being in the upper reaches of the bell curve with regard to looks, intellect and physical fitness.
• Manifestor 1: I had the ability to manifest small hand weapons, like knives or darts that could survive for about five seconds after I lost contact. While very useful, what would ultimately prove even more important was I also had the ability to manifest clothing.
• Power Mimic 1: I needed to be within a few metres of a mutant, the copy was weak, and after moving away, I could only hold the copy for a few minutes. This would greatly complicate learning the effective use of any copied power.
• PDK 3: Technically this was the source of my pre-cognition. My telepathic and telekinetic abilities were weak, on the border between 1 and 2, but the esper talent, at a high 6, was literally off the charts. Since it meant I would later to be able to be completely honest about my PDK powers, yet convey no useful information to the MCO, this was quite a convenient rating.
• Wizard 2/3: I had a magical gift, but it would take a lot of study to bring it out.
• Regen 2: Near-miraculous healing, without quite edging into unbelievable.

As you can see, I did have a basic telepathic ability, but it was weak, untrained and untested. Furthermore, knowledge and skills that would 'possibly' be gained in the future, were of limited practical use. Think of it as 'muscle memory', a person with an eidetic memory may read an entire library of martial arts books, but without intensive training it is nearly impossible to put this knowledge to practical use. In other words, I could not possibly hope to block the telepathic scan and any overt attempt to do so would alert her to the fact I was trying to hide something.

What I decided to do was to concentrate on the genuine relief I felt at being away from the MCO and my desire to cooperate with her plans. Hoping that in this way I could disguise the real nature of my powers, and the fact that my desire to cooperate was part of a long term plan to escape.

It was exhausting, and I couldn't afford to relax even for an instant. My strategy was simple, I buried her in teenage enthusiasm: “Am I really going to be a soldier?”, “Will I get a uniform?”, “What are my powers?”, “Will I be able to fly and shoot fireballs from my hands?”, “Can I get a gun?”, “Can I drive a tank?”....

By the time we landed outside a castle in one of the old soviet satellite states, she was clutching a bottle of aspirin in her hands and anxious to foist me off on the first person she met.

July 2007 Welcome to the Castle

I hadn't eaten since I woke up, actually the only food I had had in over a week had been through a feeding tube. In other words, I was starving. My stomach felt as if it held rats trying to gnaw their way out. When the athletic, blond haired, blue eyed young man who was escorting me joked about exemplar genes and led me into a dining hall, I nearly wept with gratitude. The dining hall was in a military encampment around the base of the castle, it had barracks for maybe a thousand troops, with the landing zone off to one side.

It was self service and I helped myself to a large portion of burgers and fries, along with bacon and egg, side portions of beans, mushrooms and a few sausages, then I went back for seconds, followed by thirds. The fact that I was still dressed in the flimsy hospital gown, now starting to disintegrate, was secondary to filling that hole in my stomach. As I ate, the young man laughingly explained that I and the other 'children' were barracked up in the castle, but he had seen how exemplars eat and figured that as newly 'rescued', I was probably starving. He was not wrong.

It was all part of the indoctrination: The near miraculous rescue from a fate worse than death, followed by a friendly, supportive environment would all but ensure most recruits would start to identify with the goals of the 'rescuers'. After satisfying my hunger, he escorted me to the quartermasters store to get something decent to wear. All the time, he was bantering me in the same way an older brother would rib his younger sibling about some recent misadventure.

The Baron's order of battle was somewhere in the region of four regiments of career military baseline troops, supplemented by a company of about 120 super powered specialists. Among other things, he funded his operations by hiring out his troops as mercenaries to other super villains and some of the less pleasant dictators currently trying to carve out empires around the world. This meant there were only about 500 troops, trainees and support staff, along with roughly 20 mutants currently in residence. Because of their elite status, the mutants were billeted inside the castle. The young man accompanying me was a baseline, and came across as being envious of my having powers. In fact, I got a 'flash vision' he was going to volunteer to become a 'dyna-host' in some bizarre experiment. It would work, but leave him as an amphibious human frog. I couldn't warn him of course, that would have blown my one chance at escape. Don't worry, I will not repeat how I feel about being a pre-cog.

Arriving at the 'children’s' barracks inside the castle, we were met by the four teenagers currently in residence. The quarters were quite plush, we each had our own small room, there was a shared common room with a television and a few computer games, along with a well equipped kitchenette and a good stock of snack food. We had a batman, or military servant, to keep the place clean, and the option of either having our meals delivered to the common room or dining in the main banquet hall of the castle.

After my escort left, we got down to the unofficial welcome. Anna, was a 14 year old devisor; Jasmine, a 16 year old manifestor; Rene, a 16 year old energiser, and Hans, who was a 15 year old PK brick. We were a mix of nationalities, though we all spoke basic English which was the working language of the Barons organisation. The stories told by the other recruits were all pretty much the same, capture by the MCO, followed by being rescued by the Barons forces. The other thing we had in common was that we were all essentially Aryan exemplars: Blonde haired, with blue eyes and a superman physique. On the face of it, everyone was friendly and spoke well of the Baron and how we were treated, but there was a tightness to the eyes that, even if I was unaware of the true situation, would have given the lie to what was being said. This was particularly true of the girls.

I could not afford to become involved, after I escaped I would try to arrange a rescue, but for the moment it was imperative that I kept my distance. The others seemed to be grateful for this, the training was brutal and did not encourage friendships. They were under orders to 'be nice' to me as part of my indoctrination, but they knew that within a few day's, the gloves would come off and we would be competitors in a training regime where only the fittest survived.

For the evening meal, our batman set up a large table in the common room and we had a formal dinner of welcome just for us. A dress uniform had been delivered to my room along with various fatigues and two BDU's. Dressed in our uniforms, we took our places around the table and saluted the portrait of the Baron before sitting. The food was great and there was plenty for everybody, but each course was preceded by a toast, (fruit juice,) to the Barons health and the resurrection of the Aryan Ascendency. By the end of the evening, I think everyone was glad the charade was over.

July/August 2007 Power Testing and training

Breakfast the next morning was served in the main banquet hall of the castle. Taking our seats at the bottom end of the hall, I looked around to take in the scene. Residence in the castle was reserved for the command staff and favoured troops such as us mutants. The décor was of a mediaeval Germanic tone with swords, battle flags and hunting trophies decorating the walls. At the upper end of the hall, was a raised dais where the Baron would normally sit when he was in residence, (currently he was on a state visit to Karedonia.) With the mess stewards bustling about serving breakfast, running relay teams for the tables seating exemplars, there was a sense of ordered chaos.

Playing the game, I asked questions about what I was seeing, even though I was already vaguely aware of most of the answers. What really stood out in this militaristic setting were the scantily dressed young women, many of them visibly pregnant. Asking my companions, I was told that this was the corps of Breeders, they were either mutant exemplars, or baseline women with the 'meta-gene' complex. As part of the Barons long term plans, he had instigated an active breeding program to increase the pool of mutants descended from good Aryan gene stock. The resulting offspring being raised in an ideologically pure environment.

The two girls, Jasmine and Anna, weren't particularly happy about the direction of the conversation. Hans, on the other hand found it hilarious telling me that if a girl washed out of basic training, she would be transferred to the breeding program. Teasing Anna about how he was going to put a baby in her belly, he made it plain that, as far as he was concerned, it was all women were fit for.

Although he smiled, Rene's expression was more one of sympathy and fear, as was Jasmine's. Anna was close to tears, and in an effort to change the subject, I asked what happened to the boy's who washed out. Hans, the archetype bully, just laughed telling me: “You will be transferred to a front-line battalion of baselines, where you will be unlikely to survive.”

With that cheery thought, our table fell into an uncomfortable silence.

A short while later, warrant officer 1st class Bob Wilkins, (no relation to Gizmatic,) arrived to escort me to power testing. Due to the vagaries of the military command structure, as a mutant, I was technically a subaltern, the most junior commissioned officer. Since RSM Wilkins was a non commissioned officer, I outranked him. However, unless the chain of command was totally destroyed and I was the only surviving commissioned officer, he was so far above me that I was surprised he didn't get nose bleeds. This would later lead to some very interesting exchanges during my training. I am sure you have seen films where the hard bitten drill instructor dresses down the recruit. Well imagine the same scene where each derogatory comment was prefaced with a respectful 'Sir'. For example RSM Wilkins screaming: “Sir, I'm sure I knew your mother when she was a working girl outside Leith docks.” …. “Well Sir, did I know your mother when she was a working girl?”... “Sir, your mother was a great lay and successful whore. You, unfortunately, are total wuss.”

Thus, my induction to the Barons forces began with a respectful: “Sir, would you please accompany me to power testing.”

The power testing lab was pretty basic, and the testing consisted of standardised routines carried out by unqualified technicians. The upshot was that they missed completely I was an avatar, and I was able to fudge the pre-cog test enough to be rated as a PDK 2. Funnily enough, the main reason I was able to do this was because of prior conversations with my crazy uncle. In the normal school curriculum, I wouldn't start studying statistics for another four years, yet I had picked up enough from talking to my uncle to know that performing exceptionally badly would be as statistically significant as performing exceptionally well. Using a combination of my very limited knowledge of statistics in conjunction with my esper trait, I did just well enough as to mark me as a low level pre-cog.

What this meant was, as mutants go, overall I was rated at a fairly low level. My strongest apparent power was Wizard 2/3, and I was destined to be trained as a Combat Mage. This suited me right down to the ground, apart from some vague future knowledge, I knew nothing about magic and badly needed the training I would receive. It also had the advantage of keeping me away from telepaths.

The way I had been rejected by my mother had come as a total surprise. In my darkest nightmares, I had always known that if I manifested, my father would probably try to kill me, but had never realised my mother felt the same way. With everything that had happened the previous day, I had had no time to process, (never mind come to terms with,) her rejection. Complicating things even more was the vision I had had of 'the hell to come', and the fact that I was engaged in a struggle to escape from the Barons clutches before he had me killed. There is no way anyone can easily cope with crap like that, especially not a thirteen year old kid. Basically, I was in denial; the person that all of this happened to was someone else, and I used the rigorous training regime as a kind of soporific to shut out the pain.

The bulk of the traditional classroom work was maths based military problems, and we were really being hot-housed. Because of my exemplar trait I was able to breeze through elementary algebra and trigonometry with the result that, by the time of my escape, I had started work on introductory ballistics, logistics and calculus. The Combat Mage training was more problematic. As a border line Wizard 3, I had an innate ability to use certain magics; hence, I didn't need to spend a lot of time gathering essence. What I did need to spend time doing was meditative exercises to help me focus.

The Barons teaching methods were results focused, and this was particularly true of magic. Basically, there are various 'paradigma' that you might think of as methods for the visualisation of a magical process. Exactly how the paradigma related to each other was a matter of some debate. Whether it was just different ways of perceiving the same thing, or some innate difference in the magical process was unknown. Before I could begin the real study of magic, I needed to find a paradigma that worked for me. As a Wizard 3, I should find intuitive magics fairly easy, and was guided to Natural/Chaos magic, technically a class of magic that did not fall into any clearly defined paradigma.

My instructors suggested a variety of ways that others had successfully used to visualize magical energies, and after some experimentation and a lot of meditation, I could almost, but not quite see, threads of force permeating my surroundings. With a lot of concentration, I found I could weave the threads into spells. My first successful attempt was technically a failure, I lost control of the weave and unleashed a cloud of uncontrolled magical force commonly referred to as hobgoblins, basically short lived, magical sprites.

Once I had a working paradigma, I started learning the basics of spellcraft and how to adapt spells used by other mages to my way of visualising the magical process. Over the course of my captivity, I managed to master three very basic spells: A shield against small arms fire, a cloaking spell to hide a squad from baseline troops and finally, a low-level spell that allowed me to enchant pebbles and rocks so that when I invoked the enchantment they became fireballs.

In reality, I was playing a very dangerous game. The class room work was not really a problem; but on the practical side of things my escape plan involved my developing a reputation as a total fuck-up, while not performing so badly that I got transferred to a front-line battalion.

For example, as an Exemplar 2 physical exercise was not a problem for me and navigating the assault course would normally be a snap. That is, unless you have a ten person pile up because I just happened to be in the wrong place at the worst possible time. The shooting range was another example: With my strong esper trait, I could hit even the fastest moving targets dead centre. To hide this ability, yet still gain the practice I needed, I would secretly aim for toes, ears or other non lethal parts of the target's anatomy. To cement my reputation as a 'total fuck-up', from time to time I would take out control wires and other vital mechanisms of the combat range.

What really drove RSM Wilkins to near apoplexy however, was the way I would 'accidentally' infest the combat range with hobgoblins when a spell got away from me. They were harmless and even the baseline recruits had a lot of fun hunting them down, but the RSM felt that all the laughing and giggling was just plain unmilitary.

The worst moment of the training was when Anna washed out and was transferred to the corps of Breeders. It happened about three weeks after I arrived. She was pretty upset and, as she left our quarters, most of us offered her supportive comments. Hans of course, was a total jerk who, with a big smirk, made suggestive movements with his hips while telling her to keep her belly warm for his baby. I really felt for her, but her only real chance was for me to escape and get help, both for her and all the other women and children. This meant keeping my peace and playing the game I had mapped out. Finally, at the end of August, everything was in place and I was ready.

September 2007 Escape

My chance came when, in fit of fury at my latest 'fuck-up', RSM Wilkins set up a wrestling match between me and Hans. I couldn't imagine a more unequal match up, but when I was body slammed for the fourth or fifth time, I was ready. Lying bruised and dazed on ground, I sent out the mental command <Now!>

With Princess Selene's spirit filling me, it felt as if I was wrapped in a cocoon of light. The joining was a very personal and intimate experience; wrapped in her warm embrace, I heard her tell me: <Quickly, you must choose your new human form.>

Having a fair idea of what that form would be, I knew what she had in mind; still, I couldn't resist teasing her. The first few images I thought of produced wry chuckles and comments about the hormones of teenage boys. Asking me if I really wanted to look like a freak show porn star, she quietly guided me to a more dignified form suitable for a 'Princess of the Court of the Moon'. Then I lay in her comfortable embrace for a long while, as she gave me my first instruction in the use of her powers.

When I awoke, I was in the infirmary. As far as the Doctor's and nurses were concerned, I had had a second major burnout with extreme changes to my BIT, (or 'Body Image Template.) The changes had taken about a week, and my human aspect was now the teenage version of the woman I would develop into. While my apparent anatomical age still within the upper range of a thirteen year old girl, I was well developed and gorgeous. Blonde haired, blue eyed, and in the first flush of womanhood, with suitable clothing and make-up, I could easily pass as three, maybe four years older. Even without invoking my aspect as a succubus, I had a beauty with which I could wrap men around my finger.

The Doctors and nurses were soon clustered supportively around me, reassuring me that I would quickly adjust and that I had nothing to worry about. I of course knew better. Once word spread that I was awake and fit to leave the hospital, RSM Wilkins arrived. Hearing him outside, with Selene's help, I made sure I was not projecting my lust aura. The one thing I definitely did not want was him taking me as his personal concubine. Even so, his eyes still popped when he saw me, and he had to visibly adjust the bulge in his pants. Luckily, Wilkins was too much of a career soldier, to fall for a pretty girl, (unless of course I used my succubus powers.) Instead, he laughed nastily saying: “Oh well, I see the 'fuck-up' is finally going to get 'fucked'. You are transferred to the corps of Breeders.”

As he turned to leave, Anna entered my room. Pale and wan, she had a dark haunted look about her eyes, and I had a flash-vision that, though she didn't know it, she was already pregnant. Trying to put the best face on our situation, she helped me dress in a flimsy silk negligee and apply make-up and lipstick. She had brought a pair of 3” heels with her and was surprised when I had no difficulty in walking as we headed to the women’s quarters.

Although my escape plan was in its end game, I still had to play out the role of a boy unwillingly turned into a girl. Not as difficult as you might think, I had only chosen this course since it was both my one chance at escape, and my one chance to help avert my vision of the 'hell to come'. What I mean is, that though I was physically all girl and contained the spirit of a 'true succubus', my thought patterns had not yet had the chance to adjust. Mentally, I was still a 100% heterosexual boy.

In the women's quarters, things went quickly: Giving me advice on how to deal with men, and trying to reassure me that I would love 'making love', they soon had me playing with their babies as they explained how wonderful it was to bring new life into the world. This may have been true, but even if I had been born female, at thirteen I would have been nowhere near emotionally ready for the experience. As a former boy who had only woken up as a girl a few hours ago, by the time we were ready for dinner, I was practically climbing the wall.

My initial target was Starlance, a telepath who was part of a six man infiltration and scout team, the other members were: Starfury, a combat mage; Starstrike a PK brick; Starfire: a pyrokinetic; Starport, a teleporter, and Startech a combat devisor. Together their squad was called Blackstar. I wanted the whole team; and, because of the telepath and mage, I needed to disguise what I was doing. So, before entering the dining hall, Selene helped me camouflage my magical aura and build a subtle telepathic shield. Eventually, I would not need Selene's help to do this, but for the moment my powers as a succubus were too new and untrained.

Apart from the powers of Starlance and his team, the reason I had chosen him as my first target was because he was a known paedophile whose his kink was to invade the minds of his teen victims and savour the revulsion, the fear and that tiny bit of natural curiosity and arousal that any hormone driven teenager would feel. He would then manipulate their conflicting emotions to convince them they were the worst sluts imaginable; sluts who deserved to be used and abused by any man who asked. In other words, he was a thoroughly nasty piece of work, and the rest of his team were worse.

Taking our places, I cast around for Starlance, and giving him a quick glance, I ducked down to hide amidst the other women. It worked, he noticed me and, as I felt the tendrils of his telepathic probe, I fed into the shield all my fear and revulsion, along with a small portion of the hunger and curiosity from my immature succubus aspect. It wasn't arousal, but it was close enough. Now that the trap was baited, it was just a case of waiting for the prey to bite.

Throughout the meal, I could feel his telepathic probes trying to stimulate my curiosity and libido. Every so often, I would take a quick nervous glance around the men, making certain to rest my gaze slightly longer on Starlance than the others. As I focused on him, I would blush and feed into my shield just a bit more of the hunger I felt than I did when looking at the other men. Sure enough, as the women prepared to leave, he rose and approached the house mother. Blushing strongly, I threw a quick glance in their direction before ducking my head back down. The house mother was less than pleased, she obviously felt I was too young and too new at being a girl, but when she noticed me cast another quick glance in their direction, along with an even deeper blush, she seemed to relent. As he returned to his table, Starlance was strutting like he was cock-of-the-walk.

To cut a long story short, after we returned to the women’s quarters the house mother informed us that I was to be prepared for a 'breeding' by Starlance. I think all the women were horrified by this turn of events, but since there was little they could do about it, they put on the best face possible. Reassuring me that Starlance was a considerate lover and I was lucky to have him as my 'first', they quickly dragged me into the shower area, shaved my legs, under my arms, and trimmed my bush. Not that I needed any of this of course, it was just pro-forma routine. After a quick squirt of deodorant, I was seated in front of a dresser.

Around the top of my head, they fastened a delicate gold chainmail bindi with a sparkling deep blue sapphire that dangled just above my eyebrows. My long blonde hair was piled up around the bindi and pinned into a fashionable bun with my face being bracketed by ringlets. Piercing my ears, I was given a pair gold studs each dangling sapphires on a chain. This was quickly followed by the indignity of a belly piercing for a largish sapphire to dangle over my belly button. Even though it was part of my escape plan, on general principle, as someone who up until four hours had been a boy, I was not amused.

Matching the bindi and piercings, there was a gold chainmail choker with an exceptionally large, centrally placed sapphire; a delicate chainmail bracelet with eight small sapphires, along with a chainmail belt 2 or 3 cm wide, that hung rakishly on my hips, and was inset with sixteen mid sized sapphires. All the sapphires in the ensemble were closely matched for colour and clarity. A colour, I may add, that was a close match to the colour of my eyes. In fact, the whole ensemble could have been commissioned specially for me. It wasn't of course, it was just a happy(?) coincidence it had been in the castle's common store of jewellery.

Lightly plucking my eyebrows, they highlighted the arches with a pencil before going to work on my eyes: These they outlined with heavy bedroom mascara and eye-liner to exaggerate the wide doe eyed look; then, using a small crimping tool, they gave my eyelashes a deeper curl. Commenting on how I didn't really need foundation, just a dusting of powder to take the shine off my skin, they painted my lips with a glossy, deep red lipstick, and my finger and toe nails were filed and shaped before painting with a similar shade of high-gloss polish. Finally, I was dressed in a lacy light blue suspender-belt, seamed stockings, a 3” pair of strappy heeled sandals and a transparent blue baby doll chemise that was tied closed just over my breasts with a single sky blue silk ribbon. When I suggested a pair of panties and a bra, they laughingly joked about how they would just get in the way.

About two hours after we had finished dinner, and with a quick squirt of expensive perfume, I was being escorted to Starlance's room by the house mother. To say that I was shaking like a leaf would be the understatement of the century. The house mother though, had obviously had a lot of experience escorting scared young virgins to the bedroom chamber and exuded a no nonsense attitude. I think the worst of it was the men we passed, they would stop and give my practically naked body an appreciative look, while making a mental note to ask for the pleasure of my company.

When she knocked on his door and Starlance invited us in, the house mother had to give me a hard shove to get me moving. He was standing by the window; and, despite my revulsion, I noticed he definitely had the looks of an exemplar. Naked except for a satin bathrobe, my succubus aspect felt a thrill of exhilaration at the site of him; however, I had a plan that was coming to fruition and I could not afford to blow it now. Blushing, I mixed the exhilaration with the disgust and fear of my old male self and fed it into my shield. I could see his member swell beneath his robe, this caused an increase in my emotions which I fed back into the shield which caused his member to swell even more. Luckily, the feed back loop was broken by the house mother. Sensing that things seemed to be going well, before leaving, she gave me an encouraging pat on the tush and told me: “Well go on dear, enjoy yourself.”

Now was the moment, as he stepped towards me his robe fell open and I glimpsed his maleness, my succubus aspect was excited, but appalled at how large it was. My old male self was close to vomiting. As I fed these emotions into the shield, Starlance was overcome and, quickly closing the gap between us, he pulled me into a tight embrace. Reaching up, I pulled his head down into a passionate kiss and with his mind completely open and unguarded, I struck with a lancing telepathic attack.

Most people mistakenly believe that the succubus bond is sexual in nature, this is not exactly true: By definition succubi are creatures that draw magical power and nourishment through a male's baser instincts and drives. They can also use these drives to attack, mesmer or even kill. However, the bond itself is actually a magical linkage without any implicit sexual overtones. In other words, any powerful mage could cast the bond, although without the intrinsic magical nature of a succubus they would gain little or no benefit from it .

I digress, but I felt I had to clear up this misunderstanding; since, after my arrival at Whateley, certain vicious rumours were spread about my character and how I managed to escape.

Mentally and physically paralysed, Starlance was unable to resist as I wove the complex weave of magic that would form the bond between us: Through this bond, I would be able to capture the male essence that would otherwise have radiated away. With the addition of the other members of his team, I would have a more than ample supply of nourishment for my succubus aspect. In addition, he and the other members of his team would obey me absolutely, becoming devoted and loyal guardians who would be more than willing to die to protect me.

Did I have any moral qualms about what I was doing?

None whatsoever, Starlance had fully intended to both physical and mentally rape a thirteen year old girl. He took perverted pleasure in twisting the minds of young women so badly that it would completely destroy their sense of self worth. Since the other members of his team were worse, I felt there was a kind of moral justice to what I was doing. At the very least, because their entire focus would now be on me and my safety, they would not be raping any more women. In fact, because of the basic sexual nature of my succubus aspect, they would never again have any desire for another woman; or, if you like, as far as other women were concerned they would effectively be eunuchs. Ultimately though, whatever the moral arguments, I needed this essence to survive, and in reality, their condition would be no worse than that of highly trained, very valuable guard dogs.

Anyway, now that I had him, I ordered him to get dressed and pack for a mission. Like the rest of his squad, Starlance was a Whateley graduate with over a dozen years of rigorous military training under Baron Blitzen, and when it came to military affairs, Blitzen was a professional who did not skimp on training. Starlance was packed and ready to go in short order. Explaining to him the outline of my plan, he filled me in on the little intelligence details about the rest of his squad, and after a hurried conference, we headed off to 'recruit' the mage Starfury.

Moving about the castle undetected was actually fairly easy. I already had a basic cloaking spell; but, among other things, the succubi had been crafted to work as spies and assassins, and were magical shape-shifters who, providing the gender was female, could adopt the form of anything from a dragon to a mouse or spider. Possibly because of the types of magics involved in their creation, their base form was of an exceptionally beautiful woman with leathery bat like wings; a long, arrow-head tail that could be used both as a weapon and to help stabilise their flight; weaponised, almost talon like, finger nails; canine incisors slightly longer and sharper than one would expect that injected a soporific, and finally, a pair of small crescent shaped demon horns. I am sure you recognise the imagery from racial memory.

The point though, was that the succubi needed to be able to live and function undercover for extended periods. For this reason, unlike most non magical shape-shifters, succubi have two stable base forms. In my case, my human aspect as a beautiful woman, and my as yet untested succubus aspect. To have the full use of the magics of a succubus I needed to be in my succubus aspect, but their was enough of a bleed-over that my human magic, (and telepathy,) received a healthy boost. In addition, Princess Selene was able to share her knowledge, experience and training, as a spy and assassin. So, with her help, I was able to cast a cloaking spell that would be all but undetectable to any but the most powerful mages.

Pausing outside Starfury's door, Starlance looked at me for confirmation. When I dropped the cloak and nodded to proceed, he knocked loudly, shouting through the door: “Hey Starfury, you've got to try tapping this bit of fluff man, she's a real firecracker. She's taken to cock like it's manna, and rides it like a rodeo queen.”

Lets just, pretend we didn't here that shall we.

When he came to the door, Starfury was still half asleep and mumbling about how this had better be worth it. He was totally unprepared and wide open to our attack. Starlance had never had a chance to muss my make-up or damage what passed as my clothing, and as Starfury stared at the wet-dream in his doorway, we hit him with a double whammy: I hit him with my lust aura, while Starlance paralysed his mind with a vicious telepathic jab. Reaching up, I pulled his head down for a passionate kiss to help reinforce the tractability induced by my lust aura and quickly wove the magical bond that would make him one of us. From the time Starfury opened his door till I had finished bonding him, took about 10 seconds.

The biggest obstacles to my plan had been Starlance and Starfury, with those two now safely under my control, the others fell quickly. The last member of the squad was the devisor Startech, he was currently on duty in the main communications and control centre. Stopping by his room, we picked up his personal equipment and mission pack before we headed up to C&C. It was the night shift, and apart from Startech, their were only a few technicians on duty. Blackstar squad were specialists at this type of mission, and on entering the room Starfury immediately dropped the technicians, while Starlance and I hit Startech with our double whammy. The other members of the team quickly secured the area, and we were ready to begin.

The plan we had worked out was fairly simple: Starport would teleport the sleeping technicians to a remote area a few miles from the castle, Starfury would prepare a shield to place around the control room and Startech would improvise devises to overload the power lines. When activated, theses devises would start simultaneous electrical fires throughout the C&C bunker. While this was going on, the rest of us would gather up all the hard disks from the servers and personal computers, along with any portable storage devices such as CD's and flash drives we happened to find.

It worked like clockwork, Starport quickly returned to help the rest of us and shortly after Starfury had a shield around C&C. It took Startech, about fifteen minutes to make his devises, so by the time we were ready to leave, we had quite a trove of valuable data on the Baron's operations. Emptying non essentials from their packs till they had enough space, they quickly packed away what we had found. Then, with everyone gathered tightly around Starport, Starfury wove a small hole in the shield, Startech set off his devises, Starfire started a few incidental fires and whoosh...head-rush.

I had never teleported before, and it took me a few seconds to process the scene. Because of the different time-zones, we had arrived in the Quad at Whatetely Academy at the back of three in the afternoon two days before the start of fresher week. Standing in a group by the statue of Noah Whateley were our, (hopefully,) welcoming committee of: Mrs Carson, Mrs Potter, Circe, Dr Amelia Hartford, Gunny Bardue, Chief Delarose and.... my crazy uncle Dave.

To be continued

It is my first published story, so comments are always welcome.

Irvine