Hey, TBC readers.

I just published my third story in my "undesirable classes" universe and I thought it would be nice to hold a little competition.

I am open to suggestions on what name the main protagonist will carry. Both male and female. Of course, the name should fit the context. It should fit into the setting and the female name should fit the class.

Now I hear you cry out "But, Cassy! We don't know the place or class that is featured in the next story." Right you are. But only partially. And here my little competition starts.

Since I planned out all nine of the stories in advanced I managed to hide little nods to later stories in the ones I published so far. A trend I am eager to continue. Not only has the place being named in a previous story. The class was mentioned too. Now, connecting the dots could require some guesswork, but I am sure it can be solved. And even if you don't this could be a fun reason to reread the first three stories.

Now, I am eager to find out how many of you can pick up the bread crumbs and tell place and class. If you do send me a PM with the answer to both, as well as the names you suggest for the next story.

Until next time.
Hugs and kisses,
Cassy

Hello readers of TBC,

I sadly have to say that there won't be a part 18 of "The Lokian Way" this weekend.
Although I nearly have reached my usual word count I will not upload what I have.

The reason is that this update will be one choke full of details about the past and the magic in Mercy's world.
I already wrote nearly all of Mercy's school trip to the wax museum of famous magicians.
However, the plan was it to pair up with Mercy's next trickster group meeting.
Sadly none of it I wrote yet.

I actually spend most of my time not writing but researching background information.
That means when part 18 will come out, it will have more meat on its bones than my usual parts.
Story-wise and word count-wise.
It also means that given my writing speed that will be probably next Sunday.
I expect many new theories when the update will come out.

I apologize to all of you who were waiting for part 18.

Until next time,
Cassy

Hey readers of TBC,

I must admit I am kind of in a bind.
Lately, my progress had been marginal and what I wrote I didn't like.

My usual bag of tricks doesn't help.
Tried to clear my head by writing flash fiction.
Now I have a dozen tiny stories but next to no progress on "The Lokian Way".

Writing the ending of a story is always hard for me. Not that the next part is the ending.
But it is very very close. Trying to make sure that every last detail is right can be exhausting.

Now I could blame all this on my muse, but the truth is my muse is active.
Along with her sisters. And they all want my attention.
Just not for "The Lokian Way".
But so far my resolve hasn't wavered.

I try to get out the next part as soon as I can.
Just can't tell when that will be.

Hey, TBC readers.

There is one topic that keeps spinning in my head.

For some time now part of my creative juices run around Succubus and Incubus in stories. I mean I already published two stories about them. ("Natural Affection" and "Strange Attraction")

However, something always bothered me about it. Both, Incubus and Succubus, lure people into sex with extraordinary abilities. Be that pheromones or straight out magic. Now here is the thing. For me, logic-wise that equals to sexual assault, right?

I mean it suppresses one's right to choose to have sex or not. It is overridden by an intense need to have sex. Rational thinking is shut off. Just like if someone is roofied.

You can hardly argue that a victim is willing or being able to give consent. Even if a Succubus zooms in on a total playboy who would probably sleep with her anyway. If she uses any means to override his choice in the matter it should count as sexual assault.

Now if the topic is so cut and dry, why write a blog post about it? Well, for one I think not every author who uses Incubus and Succubus flag their stories accordingly.

On the other hand, I am currently writing a rather somber story, that deals with this topic. In it, the main protagonist is forced to do succubus type seduction under influence of a similar type of influence (extreme arousal to get him to magically seduce people he normally wouldn't want to have sex with). I do not describe the sex scenes in detail. Because I see them, for the same reasons, as rape.

But that leaves me with a certain dilemma. How do I properly flag a story that is about the moral ramifications about sexual assault with magical means without people turning away in disgust from the story because they think it will favorably highlight rape in the story.
I mean I haven't noticed it yet on TBC, but on FM a lot of forced feminization stories go into sexual assault territory without flagging it. As if it is kind of expected by the tags of forced feminization.

I would like to hear your thoughts on the topic. I will be thankful for every opinion on this topic. If you don't want to comment publically I hope you will send me a PM on this topic.
Thanks for reading.

Hugs,
Cassy

We all know those ugly crashes.
When a huge traffic accident happens and so many cars crash into each other that they start to pile up.
That's how my life currently feels like. Just with "distractions".

The least of them is work. The whole company is under pressure to finish a project on time.
That means overtime. While that doesn't prohibit me from writing, it does sap my creative juices and my will to write.

But my work offers a double whammy. I may spend one or two weeks in February on business trips.
While I can write on the trip (I write on an ASUS zenpad 8.0) I can't edit written texts for errors.
I may not even have (free) wifi in the hotel.

As if that wasn't enough I soon have to move (for various reasons).
I think you all know how stressful that can be.
To top it off the whole move has to be done by end of February too.
(Great timing universe. Great timing. *slowclaps*)

Currently, relief comes rarely and may bring its own trouble.
Today I was at the Japanese festival (in Berlin).
I go there every year and it is interesting and fascinating.
On the other hand, it was a long day and I am exhausted.
Might have eaten too many Onigiri (rice balls) too.
And of course, some of my muses used the opportunity to break out.
Now they pestering about "new and exciting" ideas.
No matter how much I remind them that "The Lokian Way" comes first.

I hope that explains why I may not be around much on TBC the next month.
Sadly this also means updates will be most unlikely to occur.
Which freakin' sucks. I wanted to finish "The Lokian Way" before the end of February.
Now I might have to push the finish line to march.

I hope you all doing well.
Sincerely, your (exhausted) Cassy Bee

Hey everyone,

I know it has been quiet around me lately.
The good news is that most of my work related troubles are resolved.
I am also nearly finished with my big move into a new apartment.

However, there is still one hurdle in my way.
Changing my landline (and DSL) will take two weeks.
So today will be the last day I have regular internet access at either home.
I should be back online on the first of March.

I may now and then take a quick peek at TBC through free wi-fi spots around the town.
But since my main editing software (Grammarly) only works online I won't be able to upload new stories until March.
However, now that I have more time on my hands again, I am looking forward to getting creative again.
After all, there is an ending to write for "The Lokian Way".

Hugs and kisses,
Cassy

Hey everyone,

you might be wondering why I haven't posted anything in a while.

Well, currently I think the world has it out for me. It really wants to make me miserable.

You might know from my last blog entry that I have moved apartments.
While that was stressful, it was successful.
With one little holdup. My ISP took over a month to hook up my new apartment.

There had been other smaller stuff, but the real bummer was yet to come.
Recently my pad crashed. Hard. The very one I do all my writing on it.
Because of the move, I hadn't had time to make a backup in so long.
Now the final verdict has been come down. I had to do a factory reset.
Which means over a month of writing is gone. Overall I guess between 30k - 40k words.
Part of it was scenes and snippets for "the lokian way". Mostly from the planned final part.

Other works had been hit harder. One story I worked on had 11k words and was about three quarters done.
Several smaller works are gone too. Progress on a dozen or so stories lost to a state of two months ago.
So, with all that given my writing mood wasn't very great.

The only silver lining I currently have is the damn scene (of "the lokian way") I have been fiddling with the last few weeks.
Because of the nature of the scene, I didn't dare to write it on my commute. So I copied it to my PC. So thankfully the one scene that gave me the most trouble in the last few weeks is saved.

I have put aside my whole Sunday to rewrite what was lost. At least for "the lokian way".
Everything else might take longer. With a little luck, I have a new part uploaded on Sunday or early Monday.

Anyway. Sorry for the long silence.
Hope to be more active again.

Hugs and kisses,
Cassy

Hey, TBC readers.

"The Lokian Way" is finally done. Don't get me wrong. I loved writing this serial, but it was time to jump to a new story. Call it "writer's fatigue" if you will, to write so long on one story.

Immediate future:

Now that the story is done I am no less busy. For one I have to re-edit "The Lokian Way" in chunks that I can post on Fictionmania. Because I am pretty sure there are some readers who want to read it but don't visit Big Closet much or at all(What a shame!).

I am also tempted to do a chapter by chapter commentary of "The Lokian Way". Explaining also the basic foundation and concepts I worked on. Giving details that are more hidden in the story.

Vote if you want a commentary by me for "The Lokian Way" or not: Vote here!

Things I learned from writing "The Lokian Way":

Overall I think writing a serial for the first time was a positive experience. Granted I made some mistakes. I hope to learn from them. I guess I should keep a buffer of 3 to 4 parts/chapters on hand. My absence following my moving of apartments really hit my count of readers on "The Lokian Way". I also should invest more time to refine the plot and characters before starting a serial.

For the next one or two months:

I vow to return to my roots. Meaning writing short stories. But more importantly to finish some of those I already started. Some are long overdue to receive their end.

I also have a few story ideas I really wanted to write, but made myself put off to focus on writing "The Lokian Way".

Then there are a few ideas for open-ended serials. One that does not have an overarching plot or planned end. However, some vow only to read completed serials or those they judge will be eventually finished. I am not sure if introducing open-ended serials to readers of mine will work out.

In preparation for my next big serial:

I have many ideas for serials but judging by my current mood I reduced them to three. However, how am I to judge which serials readers on TBC want to read? I think it is time for an experiment. I hope to write the first chapter of each serial in the next two month. Then I let the readers vote which one I should continue.

Will relying on a vote to work? I have no idea, but I am curious to giving it a try.

If one succeeds, another one bites the dust:

Sissification is for a long time a white whale for me. I never could really get into it. While I see some attraction, I am deterred by a simple circumstance: there are only a limited amount of plot arcs in the genre and they are overused.

So I try to experiment with the genre. One experiment was "What A Troublesome Ghost". Rather than feminizing a man, it was reducing the feminity of a woman against her will. It was somewhat successful, but I could see how fans of the sissification genre might feel cheated by it.

Another experiment was "Hidden App". There are many stories that use PC's and applications to alter people. (Master PC for one)
For "Hidden App" I chose another approach. The app can trap people inside an extra dimension. Users then can play around with their captive using game-like mechanics. Imagine a mix of "Fallout Shelter" and a dress up game.

Sadly I was more in love with the idea/mechanic than the story in itself. Resulting in the first spurt of writing, followed by months of sometimes poking at it.

Now I am calling it dead. As with two other stories ("About Thorns And Sleeping Beauties" and "The Summer Job") I uploaded "Hidden App" in my "unfinished stories" section of my TBC profile.

Those who are curious can check it out there.

Speaking of "The Summer Job":

What the hell is up with that? Since posting the story it constantly draws 3 to 11 hits each day. Mind you the readers directly jump into the story without going through the organizational page above it. So how come it gets so many hits? My best guess is that a few readers are so enamored with the story that they have it bookmarked and read it nearly daily.

What vexes me more is that I have no clue what makes the story so alluring. Is it the ponygirls? Should I write more stories that feature them? Or is it the hucows? The BDSM aspect?

I posted it on purpose as an organizational page so only those who are looking for it might find it. That means no kudos function. But one could add a comment. Or write a PM. Yet no one ever did. Leaving me baffled and guessing. Does someone want me to continue the story? Or only feature more on of the above-named aspects? I have no clue. And until someone steps forward and talks to me about it I never will.

In conclusion:

Busy times ahead. Thank you all who read my stuff in the past and I hope you will continue so in the future.

Hugs and kisses,
Cassy

Hey, TBC readers.

I know the title means different things to every writer. For me it is ideas. There are writers who hunt ideas desperately. I am desperate because I am hunted by ideas.

"Just how?" you might ask. Well, it is hard to concentrate on writing one serial or story and now and then ideas pop into your mind that bug the hell out of you. Every new idea I get there is this impulse to start writing it as a story. I am getting better at controlling said impulses, but it is no wonder I have about three dozen stories started and never finished.

I am still wondering how other people deal with those. It isn't helping that my writing time is limited. Normally I write in my commute to or from work. I love my work, but there are some tasks that are ... boring. And in this lull, they are stalking and hunting me: ideas! If worse comes to worse I have hours alone with them. Usually enough to create a whole basic plot in my head and a first draft about the characters. It is so hard to not start writing a story when you have all that on hand. Well, or on the mind.

If it isn't a new idea, then it doesn't mean I am safe. Nope. Old ideas are only waiting patiently their time to strike again. And by now they are a small army. Of course, old ideas usually have already a storyline in my head. So if I am left alone with an oldie they usually get more details. And with it the urge to write them rises.

By now I guess you are thinking "Cassy talks big, but are there really that many?" Let's do a breakdown.

194 general ideas.
5 in the Mercy-verse (The Lokian Way)
6 sequels to short stories I already posted (that aren't part of a verse)
3 in the "Little Stump Manor" verse (sequels to "What A Troublesome Ghost"
3 sequels in the "The Totalitarian Society You Will Love"
7 in "The Bending Frontier" (space opera sci-fi / no magic)
1 in the "Reality Storm" verse (Three already written and to be published soon)
2 in the "Don't Drink And Genderbend" verse
2 in the "Arti" verse (first story about 50% done)
9 in the "Undesirable Classes" verse (and a few more vague ideas)
4 in the "Plant Punk" verse (like cyberpunk but with plants instead of cyber)
6 in the "Dimension Mages" verse (one story already posted, but only as first part of a trilogy)
2 in the "Suit Yourself" verse (sci-fi bodysuits)
6 in "Caverns And Dungeons" verse (Same verse as "The Fatale")
5 more in the "Tales Of Heirloom Gems" verse
4 in the "Nuty" verse (Urban Sci-Fi, one is a potential long-running serial)
3 in "Women Needed" verse (Urban Fantasy)
4 in "Magic Radio"
3 in "Nymphlings!!!" verse (fantasy/humor)
2 in the "U.P.P.P.S." verse (United Pixie and Ponygirl Postal Service)
5 in the "Chaos Seeds" verse
7 in Morpheus "Legacy" verse (I know gals. It's a closed verse. A girl still can dream though.)
3 in Morpheus "Great Shift" verse
1 in Morpheus "Twisted" verse

That's a long list. Still with me? Not nodded off halfway through? Good. Or bad. Anyway. I am open to advise from other authors. How are you dealing with more ideas than you can handle? Because I enjoyed some quiet time while writing "The Lokian Way". But now that it is over the ideas are rushing me again. Trying to make up for lost time? Don't know.

Anyway. Time to end this blog post. Before I used to post a synopsis for some of my story ideas. With mixed success. So I decided on something else: flash fiction! What are those? Very very short stories. I find them too small to post them as an individual story so maybe here is a good place for them. Let me know how you like it.

Without further ado here is the first one.

* * * * * * * * * *
Survival At All Cost
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# Upload : 20% #

Derek was a survivor. Had to be. Where he grew up you either learn to survive or die trying. The welfare slums were a hard place to grow up. Those who did, they learned hard lessons.

He did everything to survive. Ran with the bad crowd if it meant a full stomach and a roof over his head. Crime was his daily bread.

Never once had he attended some protest or rally. Fouls errant. That's what get you killed, or worse, imprisoned.

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Derek jerked up as shots rang out. Another of his gang died miserably somewhere in this godforsaken mall. The job should have been easy. Break into a mall for the rich. Steal some shit. Make it out.

The last part fell through. Now they were trapped with no way out. Armed security guards sweeping shop by shop. Putting an end to his friend's lives.

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But Derek had a plan. He always had one. By now he wasn't even on plan B or even X, Y, or Z. More like plan triple-Z-holy-shit-I-hope-this-works.

He drew another deep breath and twitched as his leg moved just a little. There the bullet wound wasn't making this any easier. He guessed the blood would lead his executioners right to him. Rather sooner than later. All the way to this little shop of high-end sleazy delight. They would find him behind the display for the newest sex-bot money could buy.

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It was a ridiculous thing. No woman had such plum lips or massive knockers. It looked fake and artificial. Testimony to how desperate Derek was. Now he trusted a shoddy cortical implant and a faulty cable to work long enough to upload his consciousness into this abomination.

A flashlight swiped the shop. It came to rest on him. This was it. The end. Dereks run on survival and life coming to an abrupt conclusion. Defiant he looked up along the barrel of the gun that would kill him and into the masked face of his murderer.

# Upload complete. #

BANG!

* * * * * * * * * *

Hey there.
Cassy again here. If you like the basic premise then good news. I am nearly done with a story having nearly the same premise, but in a different setting.
I hope you get to read it soon.

Until next time.
Hugs and kisses,
Cassy

Hi there,

my last blog entry has been some while so I thought I give a little update. Since finishing "Last Regrets" I focused my attention on short stories. Resulting in five published in the last two weeks. It scratched an itch I had for quite some time.

However, I can't only publish short stories, yet I don't feel ready to take a new serial yet. That's why I am currently working on the third story in my "Undesirable Classes" universe. Plot-wise it will be closer to "Natural Affection" than "Last Regrets", but will have its own unique focus. As I am going for a faster pace with this one the overall length of the story will be shorter than "Last Regrets". I am aiming for 20K to 25K words in the total of which 6K are already written.

I plan to mainly focus on the third and fourth stories in the UC verse before I plan to write the next serial. Now and then a short story might slip through.

But there is a small favor a few of you could help me with. No one of us knows everything. (And those who claim otherwise are usually full of shit.) Writers aren't any different. I write to the best of my ability and knowledge. Knowing that both are limited in scope. Getting better at writing is squarely on my shoulders, but with the knowledge part, you could help.

I am looking for "expert" that I can quiz if I write a story in their area of expertise. Since I rarely know beforehand what I might need I hope here for an open call for those interested. If you have knowledge of something you might think it is worthwhile for a story then please contact me. It could be specific as for details about a kind of job or more obscure as that you are familiar with an area you wish one of my stories would take place.

Currently, I am looking for a few specific areas of expertise and I hope I find someone who is willing to be quizzed on one of them.

These are:
-> Military/Army: general practices; ranks; bouncing off possible tactics; and more
-> Tanks: how parts are named; physical limitations; doctrine I should know
-> Survivalist: which improvisations might work; priorities in a survival situation
-> Boarding schools/teacher

That is all for now.
If I have missed anything just leave a comment below and I try to address that one too.

Until then.
Hugs and kisses,
Cassy

Hey writers and readers of TBC,

after two long writing sessions today I am finally done with "A Tale Of Two Dolls".
It is the third story in my "undesirable classes" universe.

This time there will be more action again, but as the other two stories, it has a unique focus on itself.
Now I finished the raw version and edited it.
Meaning I checked for grammar and spelling mistakes to the best of my ability.
Usually, I post a story at this stage.

What was the saying? "Madness is if you try something over and over again and expecting a different outcome"?
Well, call me mad as I tried something that failed before.

To deliver the best I can to my readers I hope to have a few test/beta readers go through the story first.
If any of you are interested then simply write me a private message.
I reserve Monday and Tuesday looking for test readers.
Wednesday to Friday to give them time to read the story.
Saturday to polish the story based on feedback.
On the next Sunday, I plan to publish the story.

Meanwhile, I am transforming the rough draft for the fourth story in the "undesirable classes" universe to a detailed plot outline.
I'll start writing on it once I posted "A Tale Of Two Dolls."

That's all for now.
Thanks for reading.

Hugs and Kisses,
Cassy

Hey guys and gals,

some of you might have been wondering just where I vanished off to.
Well, that is a complicated question.
The truth is I have a kind of- I wouldn't say existential crisis, but sort of yeah.

I was working on the fourth entry in my "undesirable classes" universe when I got thinking. (Which is never a good sign.)
Was the genderbending aspect of my stories becoming a gimmick?
Sure, some I wrote for fun and the answer there is: yes.
But others I wrote because I wanted to explore complex themes.
Throw different characters at it and watch how they handle the outcome.
To explore their character development.

Just how the fourth story in my UC universe pans out was clear to me for over a year.
But only now I looked at the character development of the main person and noticed something.
Yep, a definite lack of personal development. Most of the story is going down in the span of a day.
Hardly the time for big jumps in character.
And the ones that occurred had the bitter question attached: how much is it due to the gender change?

So I looked at the other stories I was developing and it looked bleak.
Yes, they all contained gender-bending.
Yes, they probably would be liked by many readers.
Would they satisfy my need to write characters that matter? Sadly the answer is no.

For a while it made me step back.
Not from writing, but from writing in the genderbending genre.
For a while, I toyed with the idea to switch to other genres under a new pen name.
And I won't lie. I am still toying with the idea. Strongly.
Over the past month, I collected story ideas in those other genres.
With plenty of good ones. But it made me realize something else.
There wasn't a rush of ideas like I had with writing genderbending fiction.

To develop a story with genderbending was a limitation that quite spoke to me.
To circumvent established tropes was a big part of the motivation for me.
Without those limitations, my creative energy was a little- Unfocused.
So, maybe writing a little genderbending mayhem was good for me?

So, all that being said where does it leave me?
I will be picking up writing genderbending fiction again, but not to the extent I did before.
Those stories I will write will be carefully chosen.
For now, the UC universe is on hold until I can think of a way to alter the fourth stories plot to hold more value.
Meanwhile, I will work on stories outside of the genderbending genre.
My goal here is to write a book and self-publish it. Which is a tall task.
One I am actually looking forward to.

At last an apology.
A few might have waited for stories by me.
You will have to wait some more. Sorry.
The good thing to take away is that I intend to write again.
Maybe being more careful in my selection of stories to write will show in the resulting quality.
Hopefully.

Thanks for listening to my rambling.
Hugs and kisses,
Cassy

Zane adjusted his tie for the tenth time in the span of a few minutes. He looked good he hoped. It was at least the best he could do. A second-hand suit that didn't look that used up. Many would call it cheap. For a welfare rat like him, it was months of saving up. He had gotten it for a job interview two years ago. One that didn't pan out. Now he had a new one and hope filled his heart. Even if his actual chances were low.

The maglev train slowed down and Zane knew this was his stop. Nervously he dried his hands on the backside of his pants. Mentally he steeled himself as he grabbed his worn briefcase. The train stopped and he hurried out. Around him milled the crowd that knew where they were going. Zane needed a moment to orient himself. This station was in the heart of a middle-class borough. It was reflected in the masses that pushed past him. He had been the only one that had gotten on the train when it started. Not many were allowed to leave the slums he lived in.

Eventually, he found the exit he was looking for. Maybe it was his nervousness that made him stand out. Or his cheap suit. But both security guards eyed him as he even came close to the exit. Zane swallowed and walked directly to one. After all, he had expected as much. Slowly he withdrew a piece of paper from his briefcase. His job interview invitation. What it did say was beyond him. Only a big QR code was visible. The guard only looked once and nodded. His smart goggles must have deciphered it in no time.

"This is a two-hour visa starting now," the guard informed him. "Unless extended I expect you back here before it runs out. Understood?"

"Yes," Zane managed to press out.

He was waved through. As Zane stepped down the stairs of the maglev station he nearly stopped with his mouth gaping open. Instead of the low ramshackle houses he was used to, these here stabbed ten to twenty floors into the sky. This compact building style left plenty of space for other things. Something that didn't count as essential in the slumps. Like trees and plants. Not that he hadn't seen those before. But these trees here looked so green. Not the sickly brown he was used to.

He shook his head to clear his mind. As much as he would have liked to take a stroll through the neighborhood, he couldn't dawdle. His job interview was soon. If he landed this job he might have more time to explore. Maybe even move here with an unlimited visa. He glanced at a second paper to look for the address he was supposed to reach. Which only exposed his nervousness. He had it memorized the moment the letter with the interview invitation had arrived.

It didn't take long to find the address. But it confused him so much that he glanced on the sheet of paper again. Before him wasn't an office. Not even a building. It was the entrance to a public park. At this time of day, it was nearly deserted. Most people hurried past it. Only a single woman in her thirties was sitting on a park bench. Surrounded by holographic displays.

She must have seen him stare as she looked up to him. Waving away her holo displays she stood up. After brushing out folds of her skirt she walked towards Zane, who mentally started cursing. He was here for a job interview. Not to annoy the locals. If she called the cops they might revoke his visiting visa.

"Mister Graves," the woman opened up while extending her hand for him to shake. "My name is Myrna Castro. I'll be conducting your interview."

His confusion must have been evident on his face, but Zane still managed to shake her hands and reply with a "good to meet you". Was his interview conducted in a public park?

"Fortunately, you arrive more than early," Miss Castro continued. "My time is short. Please follow me."

She walked past him towards a car. From the length of it, Zane guessed it counted as a limousine. Miss Castro climbed in and motioned for him to join her. The inside was surprisingly spacious. Since he saw no driver it must be one of those automated cars. She sat down on a bench at the back of the car and told him to sit opposite her. As soon as his behind hit the seat the car started its engine. Whisper silent it swayed o to the road and accelerated.

Myrna was already surrounded again by floating holograms. They were all mirrored and a little blurry to him. Yet Zane saw his picture on one of these floating displays.

"Mister Zane Graves," Miss Castro read aloud. "Public school. Top grades. Unremarkable." Her voice sounded bland and bored. It made him wince. "Eighteen advanced educational programs sponsored by the job development department of the ministry of welfare. Unremarkable. Ninety-eight percent correct on the application-test. Unremarkable. We received over forty thousand applications with similar qualifications. Never mind the half-million with less. Do you know what put you slightly ahead?"

"No, Miss Castro," Zane admitted. All the training for job interviews they gave him told him to be humble and not trying to act smarter as his interviewers.

"Our data-mining uncovered that you are a volunteer yoga instructor in your welfare district. Not only have you mastered yoga, but nine derivative forms."

Zane did try to suppress his confusion. He only took up yoga as a means to break up his bleary everyday life. Living in a welfare borough can be dreadfully boring. Never would he have dreamed this aspect might help him land a job.

"That and your porn-watching habits," Myrna added deadpan. Zane's eyes grew wide. Then his mind caught up. This had to be a joke. To play it save he gave a weak chuckle.

If Myrna noticed his nervousness then she didn't show it. Instead, she flung a holographic window over to him. It came to an abrupt stop not a foot away from his nose. "This is a non-disclosure contract, but far from standard. I suggest you read it carefully. Our company mostly deals with clients from the upper class. We can't risk leaks of private information."

With a nod, Zane started to read the contract. There was a lot of legalize, but he got the gist of it. If he leaked anything the company could sue him to kingdom come. In that case, Zane might be better off not having children at all. The resulting debt might take generations to pay off.

He signed it anyway. Pressing his thumb against the contract. It wasn't like Zane had anything to lose and as long as he kept his mouth shut there was nothing to worry about. Immediately the contract changed for another. As Zane read the header his eyebrows shot up. "This is an employment contract."

"Yes, Mister Graves," Myrna confirmed. "Congratulations. You got the job. The question is if you can hold it. We are here. Time to meet your co-workers."

Now Zane noticed the car slowing down. There simply was not enough time to read his contract, so he thumbed it too. Screw caution, he wanted a job.

As they exited the car his mouth dropped open. He was surrounded by skyscrapers so high they vanished into the clouds above. He had seen them before, but never up close. They were so high that the dominated the horizon seen from his welfare slum. As he overcame his shock he noticed Miss Castro impatiently waiting a dozen feet away. With an apology un his lips, he caught up to her.

"I just approved a one day visa for this district. It's good until eight PM" she told him while arriving at an elevator. "I also submitted an all-day work visa on your behalf. It should get granted in a few hours. We did have trouble inviting socially lower tier to this area for interviews. That's why I got you personally. Less hassle." Before Zane could get a word in Myrna snapped her fingers. "By socially lower tier I do not mean to offend you. We are good, right?"

"Sure," Zane agreed after the length of a heartbeat of hesitation. He would gladly overlook such remarks. After all, she was his ticket out of the slums.

The elevator car arrived and they both stepped in. Miss Castro pushed a floor button and Zane's eyes widened again. They were going up to the forty-second floor. Above the buttons was a labeling panel proclaiming this was the "Bexter Commercial Tower - Service Elevator - Lower Floors". Now Zane was curious how high this skyscraper really was.

"Speaking of-" Myrna picked up their talks. "As stated in the contract you will be paid each day you complete for the first month. Within the first month either you or us - the company - can terminate the contract anytime. Later you are required to hand in a two weeks notice before quitting. If you manage to not quit for a month the payment interval is changed to monthly. After three months the company will sponsor for you a one-year middle-class residential visa. We will also sponsor an unlimited middle-class visa after one year of employment."

Zane was speechless. This was getting better and better. The only nagging fact was her wording. It sounded like it was more likely that he would quit than the company firing him. Which was rather strange.

A ding announced their arrival. Zane followed his new employer out into a long hallway. It was surprisingly bare of decoration. Must be because this was still a floor dedicated to service. They stopped before a large door with a big sign overhead. "Castro Analytics - Storage And Maintenance"

"You own the company?" Zane blurred out.

Myrna meanwhile fished out a keycard from her purse. "What? Ah, no. My father does. Build it from the ground up."

She waved him through the door and Zane had a hard time not to stop and stare in awe. This was more like he imagined an upper-class skyscraper. The walls had a sleek mix of plastic and wooden panels. Illuminated by a lot of passive hidden lighting.

Myrna led him to a small break room with a kitchenette. There she gestured at the two men sitting there. "This is Allan Roth. Chief technician on site. And as an assistant technician, we have Tim Jenkins. Guys this is Zane Graves. Our new yoga dance doll. See ya."

Before Zane could react Myrna vanished from sight. Leaving him alone with the two men he just met. Allan gave him a bored look and then returned to stare in his mug. He looked older, maybe in his fifties, and his hair had already turned uniform grey. Tim was a younger fellow. Zane reasoned he might be only a few years older than himself. Around thirty if he guessed right.

"Hi, Myrna. Bye Myrna," Tim yelled after their boss. Then he turned to look at Zane. "So you are the volunteer of the day? Take a seat. We won't bite. Well, I don't. Stay away from Allan until he had his first two coffees."

"You have coffee?" Zane blurred out.

"Not real coffee," Tim waved him off. "But the good fake one."

"Guys!" The shout made Zane jump a bit. It was Myrna who had reappeared behind him. "Before I forget. Go easy on Zane. Getting a replacement is always a hassle."

"We are starting him on Samira and-" Tim started but broke off as Myrna had already vanished again. After a resigning sigh, Tim turned to Zane again. "So, newbie, how much did Myrna tell you what we do here."

The question made Zane flinch a little. "Nothing. I only know it is a job in maintenance and it has to do with rich people. At least judging by the immense non-disclosure contract I signed."

"Typical Myrna," Allan rumbled and took a sip of his good fake coffee.

"Okay, the basics then," Tim said while leaning back. He mustered Zane for a moment. "Do you know about the human soul?"

Of course, Zane knew. He quickly rattled down a textbook reply. "The human soul was confirmed by scientists not thirty years ago. It is a logical construct of reasoning placed in a different dimension than ours. It is connected to us by quantum bridges that the brain generates. The soul gestalt, the outline of a soul, replaced all forms of identification as it is impossible to fake."

"A simple yes would have been okay," Allan murmured.

"Ignore grumpy cat here," Tim advised Zane. "Do you remember that a scanned soul connection can be broken and reestablished?"

Not willing to annoy Allan further Zane gave a simple "yes".

"This discovery made the rich practically immortal," Tim explained. "They have the money to have clones or androids made. We don't deal with organics. Instead, we focus on androids."

Allan groaned and heaved himself up. "Cut the chitchat. Let's get to work."

Tim gave Zane a pat on the shoulder and got up motioned for him to follow. Their goal wasn't so far away. A small room devoid of many distractions. It was dominated by a strange and high-tech looking bed.

"Lay down," Tim instructed him. "We explain more once you are in the other body."

"Wait," Zane said as his mind caught up. "You want to transfer my soul?"

"Well, yeah," Tim said. Then he facepalmed himself. "Right. Forgot for a moment that Myrna left you hanging on explanations. Our company stores and does maintenance on androids. However, to do full diagnostics we need someone inside."

"Okay," Zane slowly agreed. "Is it safe?"

"Would the upper class use it if it wasn't?" Tim retorted.

"Fair enough," Zane admitted. Laying down on the bed he wondered what body he would land in.

"We are ready over here," Tim said into a nearby intercom. Then Zane was plunged into darkness.

* * * * * Samira * * * * *

He only blinked out of existence for a short moment. When he opened his eyes again he was in another room. Allan was close, typing on a pad, and standing beside a cart filled with instruments. As Zane looked around he saw all the walls of the room contained alcoves. Each one containing what he suspected to be androids.

Allan spared a glance up. "Samira, step out of the alcove please."

Zane reasoned he must mean him and did as told. However, his first step nearly made him fall over. Somehow his left leg wouldn't bend as far as Zane wanted. "I think something went wrong with the transfer," Zane said in a surprisingly melodic voice. Definitely not his own. "I can't move the left leg properly."

"Just keep trying," Allan remarked.

Zane did as told, but used the time to expect his new temporary body closer. Looking down he saw himself in a skirt and suit. To his surprise, he realized he was in a female body. Lifting up his hands he found them slender in of a dark brown skin tone.

"Leg," Allan reminded him. Zane immediately did as told. Focusing on moving the leg again.

"Is it the left leg again?" Tim asked as he entered the room. "Appears to be more prone to freezing." He moved over to Zane and held a hand at his back to steady him. "Just keep moving the leg. It should start responding in a moment. Officially it is known as the 'controller corruption effect'. You see the androids are theoretically maintaining themselves with the use of nanites. However, without a soul inside the android goes into a hibernation mode. Suspending most nanite processes. The most common side effect is the freezing of muscles you now experience."

True to Tim's words Zane steadily managed to stretch and bend the leg further. Now, Tim let go and pointed to a line on the floor. "Follow this marking and turn around. Then repeat. You see it is not the muscles themselves that tend to fail, but the controllers lose their imprinted index association of individual muscle fibers. By moving around you retrain those controllers. That's why we need you. Someone dedicated to jump into an android and move them around. The longer an android is in storage the more freezing occurs. For all purposes, an android body that had been in storage too long would be practically paralyzed. The worst job one can pull is to rehabilitate one of those."

While Tim explained, Allan pulled down a big screen from the ceiling. It flickered to life and showed the company logo. "You can stop pacing, Samira," Allan instructed Zane. "Stand on this point and face the display."

A little confused, Zane complied. Meanwhile, Tim continued his lecture without break. "The upper class can't be bothered to rehabilitate their androids themselves. That's where we come in. We give each android a regular workout to keep the freezing to a minimum. You following me so far? Any questions?"

"Yeah," Zane said with a nod. "It's pretty straight forward. My only question is why Allan keeps calling me Samira."

"Coping mechanism," Allan rumbled.

"What he said," Tim said with a grin. "Look, soon after this company was founded it ran into a problem. Most androids include behavioral modifications. Samira, when you just paced the room, you walked perfectly in a female manner. All your gestures are feminine too. That's the smallest of modifications. Others are- Heavier. While in an android body we don't behave like ourselves. To reduce stress and a bunch of other problems we found out that giving each android a name helps. This android we called Samira. If you are in it then you aren't Zane, you are Samira. Same with me or Allan. Whoever is in Samira's body is Samira. All your current actions aren't Zane's. They are Samira's."

"We have to check for proper behavioral modifications too," Allan threw in.

"Can't say I am fully understanding what you are saying," Zane admitted. "Let's move on and maybe I'll get it in time."

"Straight to the point," Allan told Tim. "I like this Samira." Then he gave Zane a conspiratorial wink and whispered. "The previous Samira was always so chatty."

"Everyone is a hater," Tim sighed. Then he turned to Zane again. "If we don't have someone like you, one dedicated to operating the androids, Allan and I take turns. Which makes the overall maintenance take longer."

"Can we get started now?" Allan grumbled.

"Sure," Tim agreed. "Okay, Samira. On the display, there will be a simplified representation of your current body. It will shift between various poses. You have to follow the poses and the movement exactly and precisely. It is designed to sift out any frozen muscles. If you can't perform an exercise then tell us and repeat until you can. Got it?"

"Sounds manageable," Zane said. He soon found out that it wasn't as easy as he expected. Whoever designed those exercises must have OCD or something similar. And Zane didn't mean it dismissively. Each movement had to correct down to the T. If he had to bend an arm then he had to do it down to one degree of an angle. If not, he had to repeat it. And there were poses for each angle for each limb. Designed to work each and every muscle in Zane's temporary body. Now he understood why his yoga training had been an advantage in his application. It also explained why Myrna called him their new "yoga dance doll".

It took nearly two hours to go through every motion and pose. Allan and Tim had their noses the whole time in their pads. Softly murmuring updates to each other. Hunting for every unresponsive fiber of muscle. Zane had suspected he would grow quite bored with this routine, but it was so challenging that it never happened. In the end, he also was very happy to not have done this exercise in his real body. He was sure that he would have broken down with cramps not ten minutes into the workout.

"And we are nearly done with the physical part of the tests," Tim said as the last pose vanished from the display and Allan pushed it up into the ceiling again. "Next is the inspection by sight. Samira, please undress as far as you can."

Zane looked a little perplexed. "You want me to get naked in front of you guys?" He knew his question was a little strange. Why would he feel to protect the modesty of a body not his own?

"Here we go again," Allan grumbled. "For Christ sa-"

"Allan!" Tim gave his co-worker a warning look. "Listen Samira, a part of you this body's behavioral modification is the need to appear presentable and modest. So we know that it goes against your instinct. Be aware that both, Allan and Me, have not only seen your body naked before, we also had been you previously."

It made sense to Zane, but these behavioral modifications must be strong as he still found it difficult to undress. However, as he did Zane noticed some particular features of Samira's body. Her breasts were shaped anatomically correct, but missed nipples completely. This looked strangely alien to Zane.

He also found out that the realistic skin only covered the top half of Samira's body. Three inches below her breasts it transitioned to a smooth flexible plastic the same color as Samira's skin tone. The maker of this body hadn't wasted any afford on detail on the lower body. Features like a belly button or a vagina.

"I can't get out of these shoes," Zane complained after stripping of everything else.

"Oh, that is because technically your shoes and feet are one thing," Tim explained. "Just stand still while we do a sight inspection of your body."

Zane thought he was the center of an inside joke as Allan and Tim grabbed magnifying glasses and proceeded to look at him in earnest. He was proven wrong when Tim gave a shout. "Found one. Blueprint corruption in section five. Right shoulder, two inches up, three and a half to the right."

"Blueprint corruption?" Zane asked in wonderment.

Allan gave a short murmured "robot cancer" as a reply while typing on his pad.

As before it was Tim who explained in detail. "Most androids are self-maintaining with the help of nanites. But these need a blueprint to work with. Now, these blueprints are too big to store in nanites directly. Hence the need for centralized blueprint libraries. However, the information they contain can be corrupted. Mostly due to material degradation or radiation."

The last word made Zane perk up. "Radiation?"

"The miniature fusion reactor inside you," Allan threw in.

Zane couldn't help it. "Really?" He asked as he looked down his torso as if he could find a detail where such a reactor might be hidden.

"No," Tim added dryly. "Allan is trying to be funny. With radiation, I mean the normal background of the world. Anyway, for that reason, the libraries are mirrored. They correct by a majority. If five sets of data say 'A' and one data says 'B' then that data is due to corruption and overridden. Since the blueprint is so big, that process takes time. Hence it sometimes makes sense to help the process along. A few taps and the corrupted area raises in priority. Then the nanites do the rest."

"Sounds like a system that can't go wrong," Zane remarked.

Allan sneered. "Every cancer can be fatal if you ignore it for too long."

"Not with us," Tim threw in. "Stop scaring the new guys, Allan!"

"But, what does he mean though," Zane dug deeper.

Tim shrugged. "As I told you, the libraries decide by majority. Trouble starts when a majority can't be established because too many libraries are corrupted. Not that we will run into that problem. Not with our regular androids. Part of our maintenance service is making sure that corruption never reaches that point. But now and then we get new transfers in."

"So, I won't sprout a third arm suddenly?" Zane joked.

Allan gave a sigh. "No, mathematically improbable."

"Think about it," Tim suggested. "For such a change to occur not only has the majority of the libraries to be corrupted to a great degree but also in exactly the same way. As Allan said. The math is against it."

"All done," Allan announced. "Looks like that was the only corruption. Samira is such an easy body to check. Less skin and she holds still."

As Zane looked down, he had to agree. Most of the body was made out of this flexible plastic. Only the head and upper torso showed skin. He thought about it for a second and shared his results. "Skin must take a bigger part of the data than the rest. All the pores and other details."

Allan raised an eyebrow and turned to Tim. "I like this one. She can use her head." Then he turned back to Zane. For the first time, it was him explaining. "Yes, all the details on your skin Samira take extra data. But, the skin is also more fragile than the rest of the body. That means it is getting more often repaired by nanomachines and therefore shows faster if blueprint corruption occurred."

"So, what now?" Zane asked.

"We are nearly done." Tim grabbed a pad. "Samira has integrated software to aid the soul inside with her work. Lots of business stuff. Now and then we do an upgrade, but not today. Still, we have to do some tests. Making sure none of the plug-in software crashed. Take a seat over there and look at the problems displayed there."

Zane did as told and was immediately lost in a world of market indexes, probabilities, and company shares. The interesting part was that, while he was an amateur in the realm of company trading, those figures started to make sense to him. On request, he spotted up and downward trends.

"Software is done," Allan remarked after a half hour. "And in record time. Good to have a third person in our team. Samira, please step back into the alcove. It is time to transfer you back."

Zane gave a nod and did as told. After a short wait, his vision and bodily feeling faded out.

* * * * * Zane * * * * *

"Was my body always this heavy?" Zane asked as he came about in the transfer bed. Sitting up had brought a short moment of vertigo.

"Sure is," Tim confirmed and padded Zane on the shoulder. "Which is funny. Androids are usually a little heavier than human bodies, but the artificial muscles are stronger. Making it appear that movement is easier. Don't worry. You get used to it. Hungry? Allan and I are up for an early lunch."

Truth be told, Zane could eat. Growing up in the welfare boroughs food was always a little short. One learned to consume things immediately if presented. "Sure, but I didn't pack anything. Truth be told I only thought today would be an interview. Not my first day at work."

Tim gave a chuckle. "Fair enough. My treat today. As a welcome so to speak."

A few minutes later the three had made themselves comfortable in the break room. The delivery had brought something Chinese. A first for Zane.

For a while, Zane was lost in the wonders of good food. But questions bubbled to the forefront. "Can I ask you something?"

Tim gave a shrug. "Sure."

"The way Myrna talked-" Zane broke off and gave it another thought. "It's just. The way she talked it sounded like I would quit in a hurry. To be honest, so far it hadn't been that hard. Sure, it was strange to be in a woman's body. But not that outlandish."

Zane's new co-workers gave each other a conspiratorial glance.

"Well, you see-" Allan started.

"This was the easy mode," Tim picked up. "Because Myrna asked us to not scare you off. Different bodies provide different challenges."

"It can't be that different," Zane argued. "Right?"

"It's like this," Allan started. Lowering his food that Zane couldn't pronounce. "In this tower, there are a lot of rich people. It is a cut-throat world. Be a shark. Always on top. It made them rich but also left them wanting. Everyone needs something to balance them out."

"Which means?" Zane drilled.

Tim pointed into the direction of the alcoves and the androids within. "Half of the androids in there are for business. Optimized for such. They are the Ken and Barbie of the business world. Not anatomically correct and always prim and proper. But now and then those upstairs need to let go of stress. There comes the other half into play."

"Bunch o' perverts," Allan threw in.

Tim gave an enthusiastic nod. "Pleasure models. And we are talking bods designed by rich people. Not only have they that porn star look but also the fitting mental mods."

Silence settled over the small break room. Zane was in deep thought. If that was true, who knows what strange androids might be stored inside this facility. If he wanted this job then soon or later he would end up in one of them. Either that or quit.

Zane looked up and fixed his coworkers in his gaze. "The way I see it, it is only a matter of time, right? So, no more easy mode. Give me your worst next."

Tim gave a worried look. "Are you sure?"

"Need to know if I can hack it," Zane confirmed. "I learned that sometimes in life you just have to rip the band-aid off and see where that gets you."

A moment of silence followed before Allan addressed Tim. "Debbie?"

"We did Debbie last week," Tim said. For a moment he seemed lost in thought. "Candi. She's overdue for a check-up." He looked at Zane. "Not the worst, but a good jump into that direction."

Zane gave him a challenging look. "Count me in."

"Someone is getting cocky," Allan said with a grin.

"I am not-" Allan tried to protest.

"Relax," Tim suggested. "Allan just made a terrible pun."

"Pun?"

Tim waved him off. "Don't worry about it."

"Yeah. And eat up," Allan threw in. "Pleasure bots take a lot of time to test."

Zane did, but not without wondering what he has gotten himself into.

After lunch, Tim escorted him to the transfer bed. "Are you sure? We can still push for another bot."

Zane took a deep breath. "I got it. Don't worry."

"If you say so." Tim gave Zane a last pad on the shoulder. "Remember. You won't be Zane. You will be Candi."

Those were the last words Zane heard as the world darkened around him.

* * * * * Candi * * * * *

Zane's eyes fluttered open. Which amused him greatly. His lashes were so long. Fluttering like butterfly wings as he fluttered his eyes. It coaxed a giggle out of him.

"Candi?"

It was Allan asking. Candi - and it was Candi now, she was sure of it - looked over. Allan looked the same, yet different. He had that older guy charm with his greying hair. His looks were on the rugged side. Candi wondered and her eyes drifted downward to Allan's trousers.

For a moment she froze. She shouldn't have those thoughts. Inside she was a guy. But then she giggled. Candi was Candi. Not some guy. What a funny thought. She remembered being Zane, but that didn't matter right now. Checking out Allan was way more alluring to her.

"How is she?" Tim asked as he entered.

"Checking me out since transferring in," Allan admitted. "So everything within parameters."

"Candi?" It was Tim who addressed her. Looking over Candi liked what she saw. Tim was different than Allan. More sporty. That could be fun too she decided.

"Candi," Tim repeated. "Step out of the alcove, please."

"Sure thing handsome," Candi purred. Her first step made her stumble. It wasn't the high heels. Her legs just cramped up. Which was just fine by her as she fell right into the arms of Tim. "My savior," she moaned. Pressing herself into his arms.

"Half her legs are frozen up," Allan commented. "We should have serviced her sooner."

"Candi?" Tim gave her a stern look. It made Candi weak in her knees. Still, they wouldn't bend. That was so confusing to her. "Try to move your legs, Candi. Just like you did when you were Samira."

"I don't wanna!" Candi cried out with a pout. "Wanna have sex?" For a moment her own suggestion made her hesitate and confused. Part of her felt it was strange wanting to have sex. She shouldn't. Right? But just the thought of sex sounded so fun. She decided to stop worrying and just go with instinct. Which was getting one of those studs into a bed. Maybe both. Hopefully both!

"Change of tactics," Tim said with a sigh. He eased her down to the floor. "Candi do you want to have sex?"

"Yes!" Candi enthusiastically replied. "Wanna do me both? At the same time? That would be so good."

"Sure," Tim agreed. But Candi's elation was yanked away as he continued. "But, we will only have sex if you are limber enough."

"Limber?" Candi scrounged her face for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"That means you have to show us how flexible you are," Tim explained. "Have you heard of the Kamasutra? Yes? Good. For that, you need to be flexible. Let's make a deal. You show us how flexible you can be and we will reward you with letting you give us a blowjob now and then. And in the end, we'll have sex. Deal?"

Candi only got half the words. There had been so many of them. But she got the gist of it. She needed to move around some. Then sex. And between there would be blowjobs. For a moment it struck her as odd that she giving blowjobs could be a reward. But her body reacted for her. Telling Candi that the thought of blowing someone was hot. Eagerly, Candi nodded.

Reluctantly, Candi followed an instructional video on how to move. It was so boring. She suggested giving both hunks a lapdance instead, but they declined. It made Candi pout. Both were such meanies. Candi would still blow them though. And have sex. She was sure of it.

After all the stiffness in her legs was gone it was time for her first reward. It was strange. For a moment she was reluctant to sink to her knees and to fish out Tim's dick. To take his member in her mouth. But her reluctance vanished in a flash. Too eager to get started.

When she finally wrapped her lips around his cock it felt as if part of Candi's soul was completed. Reunited with a part she hadn't even known was missing. Instinct took over and for a moment Candi wondered where those came from. It was her first time blowing a guy. But a second later she didn't care anymore. All that counted was sucking Tim's dick and be good about it.

Too soon something salty hit her throat. It was ambrosia to her. The nectar of gods. It filled her with a pleasant warm buzz that was beyond what she has ever experienced.

When her bliss ebbed away, Candi was dismayed that Tim had already pulled out his dick and was stuffing it away.

"Back to work," Tim remarked. "Remember, after the next set you can blow Allan."

One look at Allan and Candi was motivated. Eager to find out how he tasted on her tongue. Exercise after exercise past by. With breaks in between for Candi to suck one of them off. At the third break, Candi noticed Tim and Allan play rock, paper, scissors for who gets blown by Candi. Not that she minded. Although she was confused about why the loser got to receive Candi's administrations. Shouldn't it be the winner?

Candi noticed that each time their dicks were limper. Not that she minded. She revealed in the duty to make them hard again. It took all her skill to do so. She was a little disappointed when Tim suddenly announced that they were 'finally' done with the movement check. But she soon perked up when Allan rolled in a cart filled with dildos. Just they view made Candi cream herself.

"Candi? Candi, look at me." Reluctantly Candi obeyed and Tim continued. "I want to use each dildo one after another. Start with one and we say when you switch to the next. Okay? No. Candi. Start with the smallest one. Pouting won't help you."

Candi took the smallest one. It somehow didn't look like much. Despite being average. Or so Candi thought. Would it satisfy her? She certainly felt the heat between her legs. But looking at Tim and Allan, she had a better idea. She swallowed the tip of the fake cock and started to blow it. Maybe if she gave a good show one of them would want to be sucked off by her.

Instead, Allan facepalmed himself and Tim chuckled. "She's a smart one, isn't she? Candi? No more blowjobs. Use it in your pussy."

Candi pouted again but did as told. As soon as she penetrated herself she didn't mind anymore. It was divine. She felt like she was born to ride a dick. With renewed vigor, she started to fuck herself, while giving both guys a spectacular performance. But to no avail. Both looked on their tablets instead. Now and then murmuring things between them. Stuff like "vaginal muscle performance" and "dilation stress".

Eventually, they allowed Candi to switch to a bigger one. Which she eagerly did. A few switches later, she impaled herself on a dildo the size of her underarm. Fist included. She was in heaven. Not even minding anymore that both guys ignored her. For a short moment, she wondered how that horse-sized dick even fit inside of her. After all, there was stuff in the way, right? This thought and others were washed away as she came again. It was the biggest orgasm she had since starting.

For a moment, Candi blacked out. Not long, but as she came to herself Candi saw with dismay that Allan was putting away all her nice toys. She grabbed the biggest one and was about to impale herself again when Tim stopped her.

"I promised to fuck you, right?"

At once Candi was all ears. She even let the fake cock fall down.

"Just one last test and then we fuck. Okay? See that alcove? Just stand in it for a moment. Not long. I promise."

"And then we fuck?" Candi piped up.

"And then we fuck," Tim confirmed.

Candi practically leaped to her feet and sashayed over to the alcove. But as she took stand things did go awry. She couldn't move anymore and everything was going black around her.

* * * * * Zane * * * * *

Zane awoke on the transfer bed. Once again his body felt heavy, but that was not what pinned him down. The memories came rushing back. He knew each and every detail that had transpired. Damn, he had sucked off his co-workers. More than a few times. No. He reminded himself. Candi had. Still, when Tim came into the room Zane couldn't stop blushing and avoided eye contact.

"You alright?" Tim asked. "Candi can be a heavy experience. Especially the first time around."

Zane swallowed. For a moment stunned with hunting for the right words. Eventually, he managed a weak "Can't believe how eager I have been."

"How eager Candi has been," Tim corrected him. "Remember, it was Candi that did those things. Not Zane. Not you."

"Alright," Zane agreed. "Still, it was strange. Being attracted to you guys. It felt so natural."

"What you talking about?" Tim propped himself up by placing both of his hands on his hips. Giving Zane an annoyed look. "I am handsome. It is only normal that women are attracted to me. Okay, that the mind mods make Allan attractive sucks. I admit that."

Zane chuckled. As he got up from the bed, Zane punched Tim on the shoulder. "Very funny. But it doesn't help you. Candi would be disappointed with you."

"What? Why?"

"You tricked her," Zane explained. "'In the end, we will have sex. Just step into that alcove for a moment.' That was mean to her."

Tim gave a Zane a bright grin. "Sorry, but not sorry. Do you know how exhausting it is to do maintenance on a pleasure android? Believe me, I am so spent Candi would be disappointed. Well- Not really. Her mental mods would make her satisfied in any case. Let's just say you had the easy part today.

"Candi had."

"No, you had. Candi did her best behaving while we did maintenance. You? You slept the last few hours on a comfy bed."

"Touche'"

"Well, so much for your first workday. Wanna stay for dinner?"

Zane had to admit to himself that he wasn't that hungry. After all, Tim was right. His body lay around all day. Then again, food was food and judging by the lunch, it was good around here."

As Zane nodded, both walked to the breakroom with the small kitchenette. Only to find Allan holding up a chair and eying Zane wearily.

"He's docile?" the older man asked Tim.

"I am alive. All good. Zane is taking it well."

Allan shrugged and set the chair down. "Sorry. Not my finest moment. But some newbies come out furious. It was before Tim's time, but once I had to call the cops. Maniac broke my arm."

"I am fine," Zane assured him while holding up his hands. "I mean it was a lot. Processing will take some time. But it wasn't like you didn't warn me."

Tim looked to each of his co-workers and shrugged. "Falafel?"

"What?"

"It is a type of food," Allan explained while sitting down. "You never had it?"

Zane took a seat too. "My gourmet experience limits itself to anything that starts with soy-based."

"Ouch," Tim remarked. "Don't worry. We help you expand it a little."

Just then a buzzer rang. In short but angry intervals. Allan and Tim exchanged a worried look.

"That's the doorbell for the service entrance," Allan remarked. "At this time it is unusual that someone comes by."

Zane gave a short glance to the clock hanging on the wall. Half-past eight in the evening. Where had all the time gone?

"Maybe our delivery guy is psychic and we get out Falafel before even ordering it," Tim said with a weak chuckle. "Don't worry. I go check."

Zane's new co-worker hurried out but soon called for Zane. As he followed, Zane could see two officers of the law standing in the doorway. Tim was busy arguing with them.

"Hold on a minute. There must be a mistake. He should have an all-day work visa by now." Tim turned around to clue in Zane. "Your temporary work visa expired a half-hour ago. Don't worry. We will fix that."

A few promises to the officers pacified them long enough for Tim to call Myrna. Their boss. To Zane's surprise, she showed up not two minutes later. Cursing worse than some of the ghetto gangs he had to avoid in the welfare district. Immediately jumping verbally on the police officers.

"He has an all-day work visa."

"Not accordingly to our system."

"I paid an express charge."

"Sorry, Mam. It isn't there."

"Hold on."

Zane was white with shock. His new boss dared to speak rudely to the law in a way that made him nauseating. One does not talk back to them. At least someone that came from his background. Not only did Myrna dare. Her short phone call to some was even more heated. Never had he heard so many synonyms for incompetent strung together in one sentence.

The tablet of one officer beeped just a second before Myrna ended her call. "It is all in order now, Mam."

"Great." This one little word by Myrna carried so much annoyance that Zane was surprised the officer's heads didn't explode. They hurried away at a speed that Zane had thought impossible.

"Please tell me this was worth it," Myrna demanded as she pushed into the office.

"He is. Zane just came out of Candi without making a fuzz."

Myrna spun around and gave Tim such an evil eye that he took an involuntary step back. "I told you to go easy on him."

"We did. He asked for it."

"Tim says the truth," Zane hastened to add. "I had to see if I got what it takes."

Myrna gave Zane a scrutinizing look. "You ain't quitting on me, right?"

"Why would I quit?" Zane tried to give her a brave smile. "As Tim put it, it is the easiest job in the world. Just lay in bed for a few hours and have strange dreams of being someone else."

"At least something is going right today," Myrna remarked with a sigh. Completely ignoring Zane's attempt had humor. "You say Candi got put through her paces?"

"Yeap," Tim confirmed. "She is all up to standard now."

Myrna looked thoughtful for a moment. Biting her lip in an oddly vulnerable, but endearing way to Zane. "I better take a look and make sure it is."

As she walked away, Zane gave Tim a questioning look. "Does she usually do that?"

Tim gave him a smirk and an amused shake of his head. "Remember what I tould you why rich people have pleasure androids for themselves?"

"To relieve stress?"

"Correct. And Myrna- Well, her old man puts a lot of workload on her. So, considering that Allan and I are all tapped out, are you up for some overtime?"

"What do you mean?"

Tim gave a chuckle that sounded just a bit off to Zane. Maybe a little evil. "She didn't head to the android storage, Zane. Nope. Walked to the transfer bed." He gave Zane a heavy pat on the shoulder. "Go play 'technician', alright?"

Now, while Tim walked away, it dawned on Zane what he meant. It made him swallow heavily and look to the android storage. "You'll be fine Zane. It's not your new boss you about to fuck. It's Candi."

Gathering his courage, Zane walked to the storage. Only to find Candi already animate. Somehow she had gotten her hand on a test-dildo and using it enthusiastically on herself. Only to stop as she noticed Zane.

"Ahh, my new yoga dance doll. Why don't you show me how flexible you are and fuck me like one of those whores in your pornos."

There was a brief moment when Zane realized that Myrna's comment this morning hadn't been a joke. It left him as Candi sashaying over to him robbed him of all coherent thought.

"I could get used to this job," was the last sentence he said that made sense. At least for a few hours.

To be continued?

Zane took two steps at a time as he exited the underground station. Not that he was in a hurry. Today, he just had a spring in his step. Maybe it was his whistling that led to two police patrols stopping him and checking his credentials. Not that Zane minded. Nothing could ruin his good mood.

The Bexter Commercial Tower was only four blocks away and Zane made it in record time. Slipping into the service entrance, Zane went straight to the service elevators. Today, he was lucky. It could take up to ten minutes for an elevator to arrive. Today, it only took half a minute.

The doors slipped open and Zane gave a nod to the security guard inside. "Morning James."

"Morning. Someone is in a good mood," the guard replied. "What you got there?"

Zane's first impulse was to clutch the paper box closer to him. Then relented and gave James a peek. "Only donuts."

"Only donuts," James repeated. "Some wouldn't mind to relief you of one."

Zane knew just how to counter. "Thankfully, I am riding with the one security guard who isn't corrupt."

"Of course, I am not inspecting or say, even confiscating one of those." The slight hurt Zane could hear in James' voice was playful. They had been at it before. "But if you would like help later today, one donated sugary delight goes a long way."

"And get in trouble with your husband? Aren't you on a diet?" But then, Zane got thinking. James was the guy you wanted on your side. He knew stuff in the building before they happened. Security inspections or mandatory fire drills. "What kind of help and why?"

James shrugged. "Can't tell. I'd be in so much trouble with so many people."

Zane thought hard. He only had four donuts. One for each of his co-workers - provided Myrna showed up - and one for himself. Reluctant, Zane opened up the box and took one donut out. "If you burn me on this one-"

James raised his hands in protest. "I would never. Tell you what. If you think, by the end of the day, this hasn't been worth it, then I'll bring a box for you tomorrow."

Zane gave a sigh. "Deal." There did go his donut. He had been looking forward to it.

James took a bite and looked blissful. Then, with a half-full mouth, he asked: "So, what has gotten you in a good mood?"

Just as Zane was about to reply, the elevator stopped on his floor. "Gotta tell you later. Don't wanna be late."

"You have fun," James said. Waving with the donut. Just as the doors closed, he spoke up again. "Remember. Find me if you need help. I'll be-"

The rest was swallowed as the doors closed. Shrugging, Zane made his way to Castro Analytics. Scanning his ID, Zane pushed into the office. Grinning widely, he found his co-workers inside the break room. "Good morning to you two."

"What's gotten you this fuckin' cheerful in the early mornin'?" Allan Roth immediately shot back. The older man could be a bit grumpy on the best of days. But as Zane knew, if one dug hard enough, one would find that Allan was a decent person. They'd probably find more grumpiness too.

"Oh, don't listen to that old coot." Tim was the cheerful one of the duo. Usually, he did the majority of the talking too. "Is that for us? What is the occasion?"

"I am moving out!" Zane proclaimed as he placed the donut box on the table. "Signed my lease for an apartment yesterday. Moving in, next Saturday. Goodbye to the welfare slums."

"Congratulations!" Tim even got up to shake Zane's hand. Allan gave a reply too, but it was too distorted by half chewed donut to be understandable. It was overspoken by Tim anyway. "About time. No wonder you are excited."

"Yeah." Zane sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "Part of me still can't believe it. As if it is too good to be true. You know. Like it could be a dream I could wake up from or something happens and it all goes away."

Tim leaned forward and laid a hand on Zane's shoulder. "Be careful there, Zane. Being grumpy is Allan's territory and he is very protective of it."

"Fuck you!" Allan said on prompt, but took another bite instead of arguing.

"I'll do my best," Zane promised. "So, what's on today's agenda?"

Tim shared a glance with Allan. Not a good sign. His reply was even less so. "Nothing on it, yet."

"Nothing?" Zane had his doubts. "Our workload queue is a mile long." Spotting Tim's data pad on the table, Zane pulled it closer to catch a glimpse. "Candi? Didn't we service her last week?"

Tim and Allan looked at each other. This time it was long enough to count as a starring contest. "You'll explain," Allan spoke up. "Don't you like talking?"

"Fine!" Tim turned to Zane. "Yes, we serviced Candi last week. And you know that she was built for a specific reason."

Of course, he knew her reason to exist. More than that. Zane had experienced it. Candi was an android built for having sex. She also had the mental mods to go along with it. Any soul transferring into it would be subject to them. As Zane had found out before. On his first day, he had transferred into her as a trial by fire. His job was to steer androids while they went through their maintenance inspection. With androids like Candi, this was a whole lot harder.

So far, Zane had been Candi three times. The last two he had immensely enjoyed. Yes, he had sex with his co-workers. While being Candi, he was bisexual by default. But the sex wasn't the best part. Handling a sex bot like Candi was hard for the maintenance staff. And Tim and Allan tried to have the least amount of sex possible to keep their stamina and get through the inspection quickly. Zane on the other hand tried to have as much sex as possible. Sure, as Candi, he wants sex anyway. But Zane liked to challenge his co-workers and make them sweat a bit.

"Built for sex," Zane confirmed. "I think we all can attest to that."

"The point you forget is that she was built for someone." Tim took a moment to look smugly but continued before Allan or Zane had to prompt him. "You see, up on the sixty-fifth floor is a company owned by Richard Besusk. Real slave driver that guy. But whenever his employees finish a big project, he likes to reward them."

"Hence Candi," Zane guessed. "Who gets to be her? The employee of the month?"

"Richard himself. You see, in a way, Richard fucks with his employees every day. Not in the literal sense. You get my meaning. But for such a celebration, all his employees get to fuck their boss. Literally."

As if to underline Tim's last sentence, Allan's pad chimed. The older co-worker took one look at it and sighed. "There it is. Candi Run confirmed."

"Knew it," Tim said before turning back to Zane. "Now, you might wonder what a Candi Run is."

Zane shrugged. "Richard lost control of Candi's urges while being her and now went missing? Fucking who knows whom?"

Tim looked a little surprised but then gave a generous smile. "Not quite. You see, on Friday, we delivered Candi upstairs and took Richard's normal android down with us. Their office party usually takes all weekend. Hence on Monday - today - we are usually tasked to retrieve Candi."

"I don't see the problem," Zane admitted. "Bring up Richard's usual body. Let him transfer. Cart Candi downstairs."

"You forgot two things," Allan chipped in. Helpfully holding up two fingers. "One, Richard is rich. Two, Richard is an asshole."

"A Candi Run is quite simple," Tim said and got a snort from Allan. "Step one. You transfer here into Richard's normal body. Step two. You go upstairs and switch bodies with Richard. Don't worry. He has a booth for that. And step three, get down here so we can store Candi and you can get back into your body."

Zane swallowed. "Get back here? As Candi? That's nuts. Who came up with that madness?"

"Richard," both of his co-workers said in unison.

"Right. We normal mortals are just playthings for the rich and bored." Zane really shouldn't be surprised. "And as the most junior worker, this Candi Run will fall to me. Great. Can I at least count on your help?"

"Sorry. That's not how the run works." Tim didn't sound sorry to Zane. "We'll be here waiting for you."

"And stopping the time," Allan added.

"The time? Why?"

"Oh, Zane." Tim gave him a mischievous grin. "The Candi Run has been going on for years. We all did it at some point in time. Even Myrna. We just like to compare who did best."

"And see who wins the bets," Allan piped in again.

Zane looked at Tim. "Bets?"

"Zane, the Candi Run is no secret. I bet right now the news of Richard's office party spreads like wildlife throughout the tower. Of course, there will be bets. Be aware. Some people will try to help Candi. Just to win the bet. Others will try to delay Candi. Either to win their bet or just to fuck with her."

"Oh great." Zane pinched the bridge of his nose. And the day had started in such a good way. "Is there any ray of light at the end of the tunnel?"

"Richard is rich. And Myrna being Myrna makes him pay dearly for his little amusement. Most of the money goes to Castro Analytics. But if you don't fuck up completely, you can expect a generous bonus."

Now, Zane perked up. He had a stable job now, but a little bit of extra money wouldn't hurt. "What counts as a complete fuck-up?"

Allan waved him off. "Oh, you'll be fine. Just stay inside the tower. If we find you in a pub three blocks down, then you are in trouble."

Zane got a queasy feeling in his stomach. "I'll do my best."

"Then let's get you started," Tim said and gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "The client waits."

Zane took a deep breath and followed Tim. Their next stop was the transference bed. Maintenance on androids could take hours and in the meantime, this bed made sure that Zane's body stayed healthy. It also could transfer a person's soul. Memories and personality included. Though the latter was often slightly overridden by various mods. By now, Zane had gotten used to it. He viewed every job as if it was a dream. One he got paid for. Of course, today's might turn into a nightmare. Still, Zane was oddly intrigued.

Laying down, Zane didn't have to wait long. A brief transition where he felt weight- and bodiless made way for the feeling of a new body.

* * * * Charles * * * *

Opening new eyes, Zane stepped out of a storage alcove. Looking down, he found himself in a male android body. And a three-piece suit that looked like it costs more than Zane now made in a year.

He spotted Allan who tapped on his work pad. "Ah, old chap. Everything appears to be fine. No unwelcome stiffness anywhere. Quite the spiffy outfit. I guess you lads can call me Richard now."

Allan rolled his eyes. "We named this body Charles. First, we never name bodies after clients. Second, get a move on. Business awaits."

"Of course. Of course." Charles twirled the tiny pencil mustache over his lips. Not that there was much to twirl. "Pray tell, good man, where I ought to be?"

"Fifty-sixth floor," Allan said and waved Charles on. "Your client is waiting at Besusk Financial Consulting."

"Then I'll be on my way."

"Mister Jenkins." Charles tipped his imaginative hat at Tim while passing by.

"Good luck," Tim said. Just before starting a stopwatch. Charles glanced at a nearby clock and noted it was six past eight in the morning.

Charles slandered to the elevator bank. Yes, it appeared he was on a timetable, but no gentleman arrived in a hurry. That just wouldn't do. Whistling a little tune, he waited a few minutes.

As usual, the elevator was packed at this time of the day. "Excuse me. Gents. Ladies."

"Wait. Does that mean a Cand- Ouch!" One of the men rubbed his rips where his co-worker had elbowed him.

"Ahh. My station," Charles said after the third stop.

The receptionist was very happy to see him. "Finally. Get her out of here before she talks me into another round. Just, go right in. Meeting room fifty-six twenty-two."

"Of course. Of course." Charles couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor lad. He looked disheveled. But he was nothing compared to what awaited inside Besusk Financial Consulting. It must have been a hell of a party. It looked like a bomb had gone off.

Charles cringed at the mess. This looked unrefined. Not a classy party at all. Here and there, he spotted workers sleeping in cubicles, on couches, and even on the floor. Wherever exhaustion had struck them. The filth of spilled food and drink was everywhere. Right now, he was Charles. But deep down, the person known as Zane cringed at the wastefulness of it all.

Meeting room fifty-six twenty-two revealed an especially despicable scene. A harlot in a flimsy dress, half torn off her frame, accosted a young lad. "Just one more round."

"About time! I don't think I can last one more time." The young man ushered the android pawing at him towards a transfer booth. Of course, it was Candi. The very same android Charles had to transfer into. "Come on. Step into the booth."

"Ah, the tidings of duty." Charles was appalled to become something such primal. A creature of wanton desire. Nonetheless, there was a duty to perform. The transfer booth had two alcoves and Charles stepped into the opposite one. It didn't take long and the world dimmed around Charles.

* * * * Candi * * * *

Candi stumbled out of the booth and into the arms of a strapping young man. His suit was rumpled, but Candi didn't mind. If she could have her way, he'd lose his boring suit anyway.

"Hey there. Wanna fuck?"

"Sir!" The man looked panicked. "Help?"

A nice-looking older man in an impeccable suit stepped out of the booth. Candi wouldn't have minded tearing it off him. Candi had a thing for older guys. And younger ones. Everything in between too.

"Ah, Dan. Sniffing good job at-" Richard paused. "Who left this android in the bloody English setting? Ah, better. Dan, please escort Miss Candi to the elevators, so we can start cleaning up."

"Oh, I can help," Candi volunteered. "I can clean you up real good. My tongue-"

"We know what your tongue can do," Dan interrupted while pulling Candi out of the meeting room. "You want fun, right? Lots of hard dicks to ride?"

Candi knew she was supposed to do something else. Right! To get to Tim and Allan. Maybe she could suck them off. But both were such party poppers. Always making her do stupid stuff before they could have fun. And Candi wanted to do fun stuff. Especially with hard dicks.

Seeing her nod eagerly, Dan continued. "Well, you rode every dick here. They aren't hard anymore. That can't be fun."

Had she? Candi couldn't remember that. But Candi had been Candi just for so little time. Before Candi, there was another Candi. Maybe she did. So, maybe Candi had. But thinking about that was hard and not fun at all.

"Can we go somewhere fun?"

"Of course!" Dan led her into a big hallway. It looked familiar. "See those metal doors? Just walk into one of them and you will have fun."

Candi brightened up. "And dicks?"

"Plenty of hard dicks, cocks, or peckers. Whatever you want to call them," Another young man chimed in. He was behind some kind of table. Candi knew him. Had seen him before she had become Candi.

"Oh, goodie!" Candi minced over to the elevators in her stripper heels. These were so fun. She could see down on everyone. And everyone could see her. How she pranced around. Her butt swaying around on display. Not to mention that her bosom was at the right height for many men to stare right at them. If only there was someone to do so. Candi pouted. This was getting boring and none of the stupid silver doors opened.

Candi turned around and spotted the young man behind his desk. He looked yummy. Candi was totes sure she could have fun with him. "Hi, sugar."

The man must have been excited too as he jumped up. But instead of looking at Candi, he rushed to the door she just came through. Candi giggled. It looked like she wasn't the only one who had trouble opening doors.

"Dan you asshole! Unlock the door."

Then, it was too late. Candi was upon him. "You can unlock my door," she purred. "With your cock."

The receptionist looked her up and down, before shrugging. "Who knows when the boss throws the next party? Okay, Candi. One more time. But then, you need to go."

"Yay!"

A quarter-hour later, a disheveled receptionist led Candi to the elevator bank. "You have to push a button. Or the doors won't open."

"Right. I know." Candi pouted. "I am not stupid." Just very easily distracted.

She already reached for him again, when one of the elevators opened up. Candi was shoved into it. Not that she minded. "Hello boys," she purred at the three men already in the small cabin. She pressed herself against the nearest one. "What you got there, big boy?"

The man swallowed. Eyes huge. "Birthday cake?" he pressed out.

"It's your birthday?" Candi's eyes lit up. "Want me to blow out your birthday candle?"

"Not his birthday," Another spoke up. But then started to grin. "But we will take you to him. There you can suck and fuck as much as you want."

For the briefest moment, Candi knew she was supposed to go somewhere else. But how could she say no to an orgy?

"Oh, yeah! Candi wants."

"Best idea, ever!" the third man chimed in.

Together, they herded Candi out when the elevator arrived at their floor. Passing hallways Candi had never seen before. Then, she heard singing. "Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you."

Of course, Candi had to chime in. Singing the loudest. "Happy birthday, dear- " She stopped confused until one man whispered "Tommy" to her. "Dear Tommy! Happy birthday, to you. Hey there, stud. Want to unpack your gift? Me? I am your gift if you want."

"You got Candi for me? How?" Tommy was over the moon.

But not as happy as Candi was. She got to blow out a birthday candle. And suck so many dicks. Ride them too. She even took some in her ass. It was heaven. Way more fun than boring old Allan or Tim.

Over an hour later, Candi walked out of the meeting room. The party had wound down as none of the men could stand anymore. They all had silly grins on their faces. But Candi wanted to frown. She couldn't get any of them hard anymore. But surely, she could find more fun. If she just could find the next metal doors.

Wandering at random, Candi spotted a pair of restrooms. She didn't need to pee or something icky like that. But maybe she should freshen up. Look good for the lads. Maybe then she will find more people willing to party with her. But Candi stopped before the restrooms. Which one should she use? Obviously, she was a girl right now. So, the women's restroom was the right one. But the men's restroom might have men in it. It was in the name. Candi felt so smart as she steered towards that one.

But before entering, a woman stepped out of the ladies restroom. One look at Candi and she stopped in her tracks. "Damn, what happened to you girl? Come in. I'll help you clean up."

Candi was ecstatic. Such a nice offer. She took the woman's hand and entered.

"My name is Linda. What's yours, honey?"

Candi beamed. "Candi."

"Candi? Candi, Candi? As in the android Candi."

"Yes!"

Linda took a step back. "No wonder you look like a whore doing a frat house. And smell like it too." Then Linda looked around. Once it was clear they were alone, Linda leaned closer. "Is it true?"

"Yes," Candi confirmed. "My name is Candi."

"No. I mean-" Linda looked conflicted. "Is it true what they say? That you do women too."

Candi frowned. Did she? This Candi had never done it with a woman. Only Tim, Allan, and a lot of studs today. Maybe a different Candi had. Looking at Linda, Candi could immediately imagine how to please her. That made Candi happy.

"I don't know," Candi admitted cheerfully. "Wanna find out?"

Linda blushed but nodded nonetheless.

About forty-five minutes later, Linda escorted Candi to the elevator bank. "Remember, you wanted to get to Castro Analytics. And thanks. You know- For-"

"My pleasure!" Candi was certainly proud to be of service. She liked fucking. It only would have been better if someone had done her at the same time. "Thank you for the blouse and skirt."

Linda had helped too. Maybe she was a little ashamed to take advantage of Candi like that or genuinely wanted to see Candi home. To replace the not-even-good-for-a-wash-rag-dress, Linda had given her a spare blouse and skirt.

"Now, remember. No detours." Linda maneuvered Candi into the elevator. "Here. I'll even press the right floor for you. Damn, I wish I could see you all the way back home, but I am late as it is. Good luck."

Candi beamed and waved. What a nice lady. And now Candi knew she could do women too. With her tongue!

The door closed and Candi reminded herself. She had back to Allan and Tim. Something about them being jerks. Or jerking them off. Something jerky. Candi was sure of it.

The elevator stopped a few moments later and Candi was confused. This wasn't her stop, right? Three guys and a girl pushed into the elevator. Hitting yet another button.

"I think ten is still too extreme."

"Half past ten," one of the quartet corrected. "And I am telling you. We have to arrive a little bit early. Or all the best foods will be gone from the all you can-"

Candi perked up. "All you can fuck?"

Her question got nervous laughter in reply. The closest man tried to explain. "No, the all-you-can-eat buffet on the twenty-second floor. They have a few new menu items that- Wait, don't I know you from somewhere?"

"You do look familiar," a second guy chipped in.

"Oh, I'm Candi," Candi said.

Eyes grew wide. "The Candi? You kind of look like her, but that's not how Candi usually dresses."

"If she even wears anything when she starts her run," another added.

"This?" Candi beamed. "Linda gave it to me. As thanks."

The first guy turned around to his co-workers. "You know what, I think I am not hungry anymore. Gotta find out where that all you can fuck thing takes place. Right, Candi?"

"Oh, can we?" Candi clapped her hands."Right here?"

"Yeah, food can wait," a second relented and the third guy nodded eagerly too.

"Great," the lone woman beside Candi exclaimed. "Yeah, get your dicks wet. Guess I eat alone."

"Oh, you can totally join!" Candi was just too eager to reveal her newfound knowledge. "Linda said my tongue felt like heaven and hell."

The woman blushed deeply. "I- Uhm. Okay."

"Yay!" Candi shouted so loudly that the others winced slightly. Just as the elevator opened. The hallway looked familiar to Candi. Wasn't she supposed to be here? But her new friends were eager to push another button and the elevator moved on.

Again, Candi was herded through hallways and offices. Arriving in an empty meeting room, Candi got what she wanted. An all you can fuck buffet.

An hour later, Candi walked out. Turns out, four people could only fuck so often and her buffet ended early. Wandering at random, Candi got many looks. But no new offers of fucking. Something she really liked. Maybe it was the blouse and skirt. She looked good in it, but did she look sexy?

Candi once again stopped before the silvery doors and stared at her reflection. This simply wouldn't do. Popping the top few buttons showed a nice view of her cleavage. That was definitely better. But could she do better? Of course! Undoing half of the remaining buttons from the bottom up, she got enough fabric to pull it in a knot. Lifting up her bosom further and showed plenty of midriff. Now, that was sexy, Candi decided. If only she could do something about the skirt. Knee length definitely was too long.

Just then, the elevator opened. Revealing a surprised young man who was positively petrified by Candi's looks. Candi bit her lip. He would do. "Hi!" she shimmied up close to him. Despite that the cabin had plenty of room. "Going up?" Candi grabbed his groin. "Definitely! Want me to go down?"

"Actually, this was my-" Recognition set in for the young man. "You are Candi, aren't you?"

"Yes!" Candi beamed. It was so nice that everyone knew her.

He showed a sheepish small grin. "Actually, I think I forgot something in my van. Help me look? I've got a bed down there."

Candi pouted. "But that's boring. Wait, I have a better idea. How about we have sex. Lots and lots of sex. On your bed!"

"R-right." Eager, the young man pressed the button for one of the subfloors. "My name is Allan, by the way."

"Oh, I know an Allan." Something about that bounced around in Candi's head. Probably not important. She rather found out how this Allan looked under his suit. She bet he was muscular. Young Allan had the looks as if he worked out. "But you look way yummier."

Just to confirm her suspension, Candi went in for a kiss. It turned out into heavy making out. Clumsily undressing as they reached the garage of the tower. Thankfully, Allan's van wasn't far. Candi had heard that quite a few workers stored vans here. Not really for driving away. Most were small miniature apartments. With stuff like a fridge, stove, and other boring things.

Candi waited impatiently as Allan converted a bench into a bed. Then she eagerly hopped onto it. Pulling Allan with her. It wasn't the most comfortable bed she had ever used, but it beat meeting room tables, office chairs, or sinks in a restroom. And it delighted her how the van rocked with her as she rocked on Allan. That was fun.

Sadly, young Allan couldn't entertain her for long. She managed to cox out two romps, but then he was just spent. A half-hour after entering it, Candi left the van behind.

But where was she heading? Candi remembered. She had to get to Allan. Not young Allan. Old Allan. And Tim. Why again? Both were such meanies. Always promising her sex and making her do tricks. Move like that. Bend over. Stop grinding against them. Silly things. Boring things.

Candi started to grin. They weren't expecting her. Both knew she liked dicks. That she would run after every man she could. This whole delivery thing was just to avoid having sex with her. But Candi was smart. Yes, she was. And she had figured them out. She would head there and fuck them raw!

Except, she had no idea where she was. She had never been in the garage before. Not even as Zane. Where were the elevators again? There! Candi walked towards it, but then stopped. Candi wasn't stupid. Elevator meant sex. Some men would come, offer sex, and Candi would eagerly follow them. All distractions! She was onto Tim and Allan.

Stairs. No one used stairs. Candi beamed. She had it all figured out. Except, where was the entrance to the stairs? Walking around, she spotted the next best thing. A ramp going up. B-Ten she read. The next level was B-Nine. This would take a while. Maybe she should look for a man. He could help her. Then she could as thanks blow him and-

Candi stomped in her heels. This was no time to get distracted. She would show Tim and Allan she could find her way back. And then, she would fuck them. Yes, she would.

It was on level B-Two when her plans fell apart. A sports car abruptly stopped beside her. "Hey, girl." A handsome man leaned out of his window. "Want to have some fun?"

Of course, Candi wanted fun. But she was on a mission. What was it again? Right. To fuck someone. And that guy looked very fuckable. "Of course. Want me to suck your dick?"

The man chuckled. "You sound like Candi. Kinda look like her too."

"I am Candi too," Candi volunteered.

"Perfect. Get in."

Grinning wildly, Candi minced around the car in her high heels. Only once inside, she asked: "Where are we going, sugar?"

"Call me Dave."

Then, Candi was pressed into her seat when the car leaped forward. Dave threw it into curves and raced up the ramps. It was exciting. Not as good as sex, Candi knew. Nothing was as good as sex. But she screamed in excitement as the car flew over the concrete.

Their joyride came to an abrupt stop as a barrier rose from the floor. Just before the exit. Candi could even see the daylight. A security guard walked onto the road. A familiar face. "I know him, Dave. That's my friend James."

"I know that he is James." Dave didn't sound half as excited as Candi. More on the grumpy side.

James walked to the driver's door and knocked on the window. "Come on Dave. Again? This is the third time you tried to walk out with Candi."

"I am not sure what you are talking about?" Dave tried to smile. "This is my secretary. Alice."

Candi leaned over. Waving excitedly. "Hey, James. I'm Candi." Earning a groan from Dave.

"I know, Candi," James assured her. "Dave. Let her out."

"Oh, come on, James," Dave begged. "I just wanted to take her out for some fun. We'll be back soon."

"Not a chance." James undid the strap of his holster. "Now, Dave."

With a sigh, Dave opened the door for Candi. She gave a big pout but stepped out. "James." The name was drawn out. Nearly a while. "I wanted to fuck him."

James waved her over. "And he wanted to keep you. For as long as he could."

Candi was confused. "Doesn't sound so bad. We can have lots and lots of sex."

James put an arm around her and gently led her to the elevators. "He only has one dick, Candi. Would you really be satisfied with just one dick?"

Candi shuddered. She didn't like the waiting times between sex with Tim or Allan. And that was two dicks. One would be bad. "I want lots of dicks," Candi confirmed.

"Of course, you do," James said to pacify her. "And I will take you to the best dicks in the tower."

Candi brightened up. That was a plan she could get behind. Uh, maybe James would join in. He looked like a stud. But something about that felt wrong. She shouldn't fuck James, but why? Then she remembered. "James, aren't you gay?"

"Of course, I am Candi." He gave her a reassuring squeeze. "But think about it, Candi. Gay guys have dicks and want dicks. We, gays, are the experts. If anyone knows where good dicks are, it's me."

Candi frowned. Something about James' statement felt odd. But Candi couldn't concentrate on it. All the talk about dicks made her so horny. "Where do we need to go?" Candi asked as they entered yet another elevator.

"Up," was James' simple answer. Candi found no flaw in that statement. After all, every time she had rote an elevator today, it had led her to sex.

Two times the elevator stopped and James had to wave off people who wanted to enter. Even more so when they spotted Candi. "You don't want those," James assured her. "I'll take you to the two biggest dicks in the whole building."

Only two? Candi pouted. She had hoped for more. Then she brightened up. Maybe they were thick. Like some of the dildos, she got to ride when doing maintenance. Surely that's what James meant.

The elevator doors opened and James led her out. "Hey, I know where we are."

"I hope so," James said as he pressed the buzzer for Castro Analytics.

"I work here," Candi proudly explained. "Oh, and Tim works here. Allan too."

On that note, Tim opened the door. "Hey, James. Oh, you brought Candi?"

"I promised her the two biggest dicks in the building," James said as he pushed inside with Candi. "Oh, did I say dicks? I meant dickheads."

"Haha. Very funny." Tim turned around and yelled. "Allan! It's James. He brought Candi and stupid jokes."

Candi's most grumpiest co-worker peeked out of the breakroom. "Why did you let him and his stupid muck of a face in?"

Candi pouted. Why was everyone so mean? James had been so nice and they called him stupid. Allan and Tim really were the biggest dickheads. They probably say Candi was stupid too. Candi was not stupid. Somehow, she had to prove it.

She figured it out in no time. They probably wanted sex with her. Everyone did. But Candi wouldn't let them. Resolute, she pushed past everyone. Walking straight to an empty maintenance alcove.

"Candi?" Tim hurried after her. "Where are you going?"

"You were mean to James." She stepped into the alcove. "No sex for you."

Tim looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"I said, no sex for you," Candi repeated. Really, it was Allan and Tim who were stupid. Not her or James. "I know you want it. But I am not gonna fuck you. Now, do that transferry thingy."

Tim gave a chuckle. It only made Candi madder. It looked like he wasn't even upset that he wouldn't be getting any sex. Candi was half-minded to ask when Tim pushed a button and the world went dark.

* * * * Zane * * * *

Zane woke up and slowly pushed up. This had been one of the longer durations he had endured in any android body. And despite the excellent functions this transfer bed had, his original body felt a little stiff.

Then the memories rushed back. Zane had never had that much sex before. Not even as Candi or as any of the other sex-focused androids. How many had it been? Zane tried to count but quickly gave up. Maybe not knowing was for the best.

Getting up, Zane walked out into the middle of a discussion of James, Tim, and Allan. James was shaking his head at just that time. "it was Dave again. Tried to sneak her out. This time, he even dressed Candi up so I wouldn't recognize her."

"In all fairness, it wasn't him who dressed me up," Zane said as he joined the others. "I mean, dressed Candi up. That Dave tried it before?"

"Twice," Allan spoke up. "Asshole is some spoiled rich kid. Everyone in the tower takes a Candi Run as a good-natured challenge. Him? He just has to be an asshole."

"Isn't that kidnapping?" Zane asked. He felt a little weak in the knees thinking about spending the rest of his life as Candi.

"Legal grey zone," James admitted and didn't sound too pleased about it. "Technically the Candi today did get into his car voluntarily. Technically, you don't own Candi's body and him taking her away could count as theft. But good luck making that stick. His father has more lawyers in his pocket than Dave has brain cells."

"Don't worry," Tim said and gave Zane a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "Ever since M- Someone managed to walk out of the tower as Candi. Walking all the way to a pub three blocks away. Since then, the owner of Candi agreed to have a GPS function installed that we can access. Moment Candi walks out of the tower, we know."

Zane gave a few nods. That was indeed reassuring. Then, he offered James his hand. "Thanks for the assist. And I have to admit, that was a donut well spent."

"My pleasure," James replied. "But don't get me wrong. I would have taken down Dave one way or another."

"Wait, you bribed James?" Tim looked thoughtful. "Maybe on my next Candi Run-"

"Couldn't hurt," James said and gave a laugh.

"You are all cheaters," Allan complained but didn't get any further as a new person joined in.

"Did I miss it?" Myrna asked as she slipped into the office. She was Tim, Allan's, and Zane's boss. "I tried to get here earlier, but-"

"Not soon enough," Tim proclaimed the bad news. "Today's Candi Run ended after four hours and thirty-three minutes."

"Is that good?" Zane asked.

Allan gave a vague wave with the hand. "Middlefield. Upper Middlefield, but nothing special."

"With four hours? I thought I had been slow." But the more Zane thought about it, four and a half hours might not be that bad. He could recall a few moments on his Candi Run where it could have easily gone worse. "I have to know, what was the best run?"

"Twenty-one minutes," Myrna said with a little chuckle.

Zane took a step back. Looking at his boss with doubt. "What? I call bullshit."

"It's true," Tim admitted. "One of Besusk's men tried to show off with his dick size. The Candi from back then wasn't impressed. She said she had bigger dildos and wanted to prove it. Went straight down here to get them."

"Was that your run?" Zane asked Myrna.

"We don't talk about my run here." Myrna gave a warning glare to Tim and Allan. "Ever!"

Tim held up his hands. "Don't worry boss. What happens in the pub stays in the pub." Eliciting a stifled chuckle from Allan and a deeper glare from Myrna.

Giving Tim a last evil eye, Myrna turned around. "James, what brings you here today?"

"Candi," James admitted. "Played knight in shining armor. But speaking of duties. I better get going."

After saying their goodbyes, Zane looked at his co-workers. "Well, that was a lot of excitement for today, but we still got some hours. What's the next point on our agenda."

"Let's see." Tim looked at his pad. "Next android up for maintenance is one called Egon. Fairly easy. Shouldn't take more than two or three hours."

"I think, I have a better idea." Myrna grinned so large that Tim took a step back. "I think Candi needs a deep cleaning. All that gunk men shot into her. Can't be good."

"Her nanites break that down," Allan pointed out.

Myrna wasn't backing down. "Takes too long. I want Candi clean by the end of today."

Zane shrugged. If their boss wanted something, she usually got it. "I'll head to the transfer bed and-"

"I don't think so," Myrna interrupted. Never taking her eyes off Tim. "I think Mister Jenkins here volunteered. Isn't that right?"

"One little joke," Tim complained but headed dutifully to the transfer bed.

"I'll be back later," Myrna promised. Walking off as she usually did. At a fast pace and without saying goodbye.

"Looks like I dodged a round two," Zane joked when he was alone with Allan.

Allan gave an uncharacteristically loud laugh. "Boy, you'll be assistant today. Servicing Candi. Did you really dodge a bullet? Today, you'll be on the other side of the equation."

Zane swallowed. Yes, it looked like there was more sex in his immediate future. Not that it was as bad as Allan suggested. In the past months, after Allan and Tim have left in the evening, Myrna often came by and borrowed Candi for some fun. Of course, their boss needed someone to have fun with. Hence Zane had accumulated a lot of overtime.

"Oh, poor me," Zane said, but couldn't hide a grin.

Zane's job was rarely boring, but today had been special. His first Candi Run. It had been surprisingly fun. And despite one little incident he could have done without, he looked forward to the next run. He just wondered. Next time, would he aim for coming back fast or as late as possible?

To be continued?

---

Zane

---

The train was eerily empty as Zane boarded it. Aside from himself, he could only spy two other passengers. Despite having his pick of seats, Zane sat down heavily on the closest one. Willing his breathing to slow down. He had barely arrived at the station in time and the security screening had nearly delayed him enough to miss the train. If he had, Zane would have waited an hour for the next.

Having calmed down, Zane put aside his garment bag with his office uniform and pulled out his pocket computer. He waved away the many pop-ups that reminded him that this was the Super Bowl Weekend. As if he needed it. If Myrna hadn't called, he'd be at home with a six-pack of his favorite soy beer and catch the games. Instead of clicking on the live stream of the pre-game entertainment, Zane played his last message again. It was audio only, but Myrna's voice was unmistakable.

"Hey, Zane. I am so sorry to call you. Listen, I know it is the weekend, but I need you at the office. Something came up and I need your help. I am aware it is short notice and you probably had other plans. I am asking this as a personal favor. Let me know if I can count on you."

Zane had debated with himself for ten minutes before sending a short text that he would be there. Myrna hadn't said anything about getting paid. Even his normal rate. Let alone weekend bonus or overtime. A personal favor she had called it. But he remembered that his evaluation was coming up. One year working for Castro Analytics. He was convinced he was doing fine, but Zane wouldn't risk even the smallest chance of losing his job. Now that he had a good taste of life outside the welfare slums, he'd be damned if he ever went back.

The train arrived. Grabbing his garment bag, Zane left and looked for a public restroom to change into his work uniform. The pickings were slim. The many office bars and cantina were open, but the cacophony of voices clued him in that the patrons were already getting ready for the first Super Bowl match. He couldn't risk spilled beer. Instead, he steered for the Bexter Commercial Tower.

The side entrance for service personnel was as empty as always, yet they felt a little more lonely than usual. Zane shook his head. It must be his imagination. Using his keycard, he called for the elevator. Tapping nervously his feet as he waited. When the elevator arrived, the soft chime still managed to surprise him.

"Calm down," Zane told himself as he entered. "You ain't in trouble."

After pressing his floor, the elevator doors closed and started to lift Zane upwards. Not for long, as it slowed down at floor five. The doors opened and revealed a familiar security guard.

"Evening James," Zane said first. Hoping his nervousness wasn't so obvious.

"Zane? What are you doing here?" James took his place in the elevator. "Another Candi Run? I haven't heard anything. Not even the faintest rumors."

Zane twitched. By now, he had two Candi Runs behind him. It was those rich assholes' ideas of entertainment. Now and then, the boss of an upper-floor investment firm threw a rager. And to pay his employees back for their commitment, said boss switched into a female android that was programmed to be a walking sexpot of a bimbo. The Candi Run started when one of Castro Analytics went up to retrieve the android. Namely by transferring their soul into said android. For the last two runs, that job had fallen to Zane. It was a struggle to make it back without getting lost in the preprogrammed instincts.

"I don't think it is," Zane admitted. "Myrna called. Some kind of emergency."

"Sucks," James commented dryly. "This weekend especially."

Zane relaxed slightly. "Yeah. I was looking forward to catching the games. You drew the short straw too?"

James gave an amused shake of his head. "Not a fan of football. I volunteered. Gets me brownie points from my co-workers and a small bonus payment from my boss."

The elevator stopped at Zane's floor. "Good for you. See you later James. Say Hi to your husband for me."

"Will do," James promised. Then stopped the doors of the elevator from closing. "Whatever the emergency, let me know if you need help."

Zane gave a last wave before turning to the entrance to Castro Analytics. There was no time to change into his suit anymore. Taking a deep breath, Zane let the door scan his credentials and stepped in. For once, the office space was quiet. The lights dimmed. Zane half expected to hear the constant blabbing of Tim and the grumpy replies of Allan. His two co-workers. But the break room was empty.

"Hello?"

Myrna's reply came from the main android storage area. "In here!"

Walking closer in the dimmed light, Zane was momentarily reminded of a dozen horror movies. The androids, standing still in their alcoves, added to the creepiness factor. He half expected some shenanigans- a jumpscare at least - until he stepped into the room enough to spot Myrna.

She stood with her back to him. One exposed as her vibrant red dress had a deep cutout. It flared out into a floor-length skirt. The dress sported some lace applications, but Zane barely noticed it. This was not the Myrna he knew. The boss who wore business suits and he had grown comfortable with. Her silhouette alone screamed femininity now.

She spotted him in a mirror - one of the full-length ones they required for their work - and turned around. As she did, Zane a good look at her front. Her neckline wasn't as revealing as the cutout of her dress' backside. That didn't subtract from her beauty the slightest bit. Her slightly darker skin - courtesy of her Cuban ancestry - appeared to be glowing under the defused light. Dark brown hair fell in ringlets and curls around her shoulder. One of her eyebrows quirked up and she fixed him with an amused look from her brown eyes.

"How do I look?"

Zane's first conscious reaction was to swallow. The flush that overtook his face was a reaction that his body managed of his own. Lots of words flittered through his mind and competed how to properly answer Mynra. Yet they all fell short. They threatened to burst out of his mouth in a flood, but Zane managed to cut them off. Thankfully, remembering in time, that this was not just any woman before him, but his boss.

"Very elegant," Zane offered before his silence could stretch too far.

Myrna gave him a knowing smile and turned back to the mirror. Grabbing mascara from a splattering of makeup supplies resting on a small cart that normally housed tools for serving androids.

"You must be curious why I called you." Myrna glanced through the mirror at Zane to judge his reaction. Finishing up, she turned back. "I know it is the weekend, but for someone in my position, work never ends. Cultivating and keeping clients is an endeavor that keeps going. To be seen is part of the social game."

Zane's thoughts raced. Was she asking him to be her plus one? At once his heart beat faster. He wasn't dressed for it. Not even the suit in his garment bag was good enough. The rich elite would sniff him out in no time. Unmasking him as an upstart who wasn't even out of the welfare slums for a whole year.

Carefully, Zane presented his reply. "I don't think my companionship would be wise to such a function."

Myrna gave a smirk. "No, a companion is unnecessary. Even my attendance isn't technically required. The point is to be seen. Shake some hands. Make a little small talk. It would be best if I was there, but-" Myrna gave a lazy shrug. "I am not the only one tired of these social functions. Hiring someone to parade around your body has become standard practice."

His confusion grew. Myrna was leading up to something. A conclusion he could already guess. But it couldn't be, right? She wasn't asking him to switch into her body. It didn't make sense. "I am not sure I follow," Zane offered. Playing up his unfamiliarity with this situation.

"Ah." Myrna gave him a knowing smile. "You see, I planned to attend today's activities myself. Else, I would have hired an actor ages ago. But another opportunity opened up. A meeting I have to take. Sadly scheduled at the same time. Ironic isn't it? One commitment that requires my body, but not my mind. And an opportunity that requires my mind, but gives not a damn about which body I show up in."

"You want us to switch bodies," Zane concluded. There. He had said it. What else could Myrna hint at?

"That wouldn't be that bad, would it?" Myrna asked with a smile. Zane couldn't decide if it was a shy one or a mischievous one. "Think about it. Fine dining. Most of it even the authentic stuff. A little bit of dancing. Knowing the host, there will be spectacular entertainment. All for the price of chatting a little bit."

For a moment, Zane was tempted. The food and drinks alone promised to be a delight. Zane had thought he knew how coffee tasted. He couldn't be further mistaken. Tim and Allan had introduced him to the good stuff. Fake too, but it tasted so much better. And once, Myrna had sponsored real coffee. Beans freshly ground up. The experience was something Zane could barely put into words. And that was just coffee. In the last year, Zane experienced many foods and their difference between imitations for the welfare population and those of the middle class. How could he not be tempted by those offerings that the upper crust of the society had access to?

It was an opportunity. But Zane was well aware that it was one to crash and burn too. "I've never been a woman," Zane pointed out. Hoping to dissuade Myrna from her idea.

Myrna gave a sensible chuckle. "We both know that isn't true."

"It is," Zane insisted. "The others don't count. They are androids. Not flesh and blood. Loaded full of programs to enforce certain behaviors. Without it, I'll be-"

"Fine," Myrna interrupted. Then she tapped on her temple with her pointer finger. "I get it. But you will be just alright if you do this for me. Trust me. Humans can be augmented too. I wear an implant that can do a lot of the features that android software can provide. It would help you get used to my body. As well as navigate the social dynamics at the function. And believe me, male and female bodies might be different, but not to a degree that would be insurmountable."

It made some sense. Clearly, Myrna had thought it through. But there was another question. "Why-"

"You?" Mryna gave a knowing smile. "Should I have asked Tim? I mean, the function is to be social, but you know Tim. He is chatty at the best of days and at worst? He'll talk out business partners to sleep. Provided he sticks to the script. As for Allan-"

"He is Allan. I get that." The chief technician in their little subsidiary office was known to be grumpy. Downright abrasive if one didn't know how to handle him. It had taken Zane a while to get used to it.

"So-" The word lingered in the air. Myrna fixed him with her gaze. Her closeness reminded him of her beauty. One she normally didn't display as much. A beauty Zane would have to live up to if he accepted. And the time to decide was now. "And? Will you do it? As a personal favor to me."

Zane's instinct told him it was a bad idea. Many things could go wrong. He would represent a company that had a thousand times more worth than he had in his bank account. If he messed up, it could become costly. Who was at fault then? Surely, Zane would end up as the scapegoat.

"I'll do it."

"Great!" Zane only realized he had spoken out loud - and agreed- as Myrna was already dragging him to a small familiar room. There was the soul-transference bed that could maintain a body while the soul was away. "You'll get comfortable and I'll set up the other side."

A little confused, Zane took a seat and then slowly lay down. As far as he knew, there was only one soul-transference bed in the office. How would Myrna swap their bodies? As his view dimmed around him, Zane knew he would find out.

---

Myrna

---

Zane found himself awake in one of the maintenance alcoves for androids. Suddenly standing up made him stumble and nearly fall. The matter wasn't helped by the fact that he was wearing high heels. Right, he was in Myrna's body. That means he was Myrna, right? His mind wasn't quite ready to accept it yet.

In the past year, it had helped Zane immensely to associate transference into android bodies with becoming a new person. Many of those androids had built-in software to change and modify behavior. When Zane's soul entered an android, he literally had a new personality. Zane did things as androids that would be way too embarrassing in his original body. It couldn't be helped. His actions as an android weren't really his own. But transferring back, Zane kept those memories. It was easy to say "I did that" and feel embarrassed or other negative emotions. Instead, Zane reminded himself that it wasn't him that had done those things. The personality of the android has done it. Zane had only lent his soul to enable the android.

But now, in the body of Myrna, things were different. Zane couldn't feel any strong influences on his psyche and personality. He was still Zane. Just the body was different. Could he still attribute all his actions and later the memories, to being Myrna? This little detail was surprisingly terrifying. What if he couldn't? It would mean, that whatever would happen this evening, Zane would be responsible. There was no hawking it off to "pre-programmed behavior". His actions would be his alone. He would have to shoulder any consequences that arose.

"Hmm, I do look good."

The voice was a familiar one. As was the body. Zane's own body had entered the maintenance bay. But it wasn't Zane in there. Myrna was at the helm. There was no mistaking it. The mannerisms were off. The Zane portrait by Myrna was more confident and outgoing. He could tell even by this little interaction.

Myrna walked around her original body and took it in from every perspective. If anyone else would have done it, Zane might feel obligated to protest on Myrna's behalf. But who else would be more familiar with it than her?

"Stop being so stiff," Myrna reprehended Zane. "You'll give me a kink in the neck."

"Sorry." Zane blushed. Felt it really as blood rushed to his face. Did he always blush to this extent or was that a trait of Myrna's body. He had never seen her blush before. Maybe he was just imagining it. "It's just strange, you know, to see my own body."

"I know how that feels." Myrna's remark didn't sound like fake empathy. "I've done this a few dozen times now and I still can't get used to it. But there is something that helps."

"I could use every trick you can offer."

"It's easy. I'll just have to send you on your way. Out of sight, out of mind. Then you don't have a constant reminder. But before I can do that, there are a few things you have to know."

Zane was baffled. Nearly missed the second half of Myrna talking. His body. It looked and acted so charismatic that Zane was distracted for a split second. Was that all Myrna at the helm or was part of it just untapped potential Zane had never bothered to unlock.

"I am all ears," Zane said. Maybe a bit too hasty. "I mean, don't get me wrong, but I want to get over with it."

Myrna glanced at a nearby digital clock on the wall. "Yes, time is running short. We both have to get ready. Alright. Think about options or assistance. The HUD of my implant should appear. Most options should be grayed out. That is on purpose. But one icon should be for the Better Meet And Greet app."

Zane hardly had to concentrate on it and a row of icons appeared in the periphery of his view. As Myrna had said, most appeared to be deactivated. It wasn't hard to find the indicated app. Activating it, more details appeared in Zane's view. They were all centered on Zane's original body.

The app knew that this body rightfully belonged to him, but also which soul currently inhabitants it. Offering details to both. Attached to his body was his own personal file. Strangely devoid of details. Of course, he couldn't help but glance at the details offered about Myrna's soul. What he found made him nearly choke.

# What? Do you really expect that I left confidential files lazing around for you? #

"Found my little memo, didn't you?" The smirk Myrna produced looked strange on his face, yet also oddly right. "Now, pay attention. Once you arrive at the party, this app will be your best friend. It will identify conversational partners and suggest topics for small talk. How are your children? Has your wife returned from vacation? Stuff like that. It will also provide answers to questions you might get about me. Answer in character along the prompts the app provides. Don't improvise too much. Whenever new details are picked up, the app will save them for next time. So I, or some actor I hire, can continue without trouble. Got it?"

Zane took a deep breath. Just what exactly had he agreed to? The summarization was short and blunt. "Get there. Circle the venue. Make as much small talk as possible according to a cheat sheet only I can see. Bring your body home safely."

"And have fun," Myrna added. "Don't forget the fun. Enjoy the delicacies they serve. Be amazed by the entertainment. This is not work. You are doing me a favor. Might as well enjoy it, right? Just don't go overboard with the fun. If you get my body pregnant I swear I will make you carry the child to term."

Zane was speechless. Before he could recover and protest, Myrna continued. "Listen. Don't be nervous. Once you get used to playing me, it will be a breeze. Stick around a bit. Say three hours at minimum. More if you like. Just be back before midnight."

Here would be an appropriate moment to insert a joke about how Zane was to act as Myrna, not Cinderella, but Zane wouldn't recover his cool to joke for the next five minutes.

A wooden "got it" came from him instead.

"Relax," Myrna reminded him again. "Remember. I don't want any kinks when I switch back." She then handed Zane a clutch and escorted him to the elevator. Not his usual one. "Myrna" wouldn't be leaving through any service entrance. The regular elevators definitely boasted better decoration.

The doors closed.

Zane was alone.

In Myrna's body.

It meant that he was now supposed to be acting like Myrna. To become her. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and exhaled.

As she opened her eyes, she was Myrna. Not the original. Neither any of the previous imitations. She was the Myrna with Zane's soul. She had been a woman many times before. Granted, as an android, but surely some of that experience will help her out. The original had been right. Once they weren't sharing a room, it was easier to assume the new identity. At least, that was the hope.

Having barely gathered herself, a new challenge arrived. The elevator opened and a familiar security guard stepped in. But how familiar was Myrna with him?

"Good evening, Miss Castro," James greeted before Myrna could make up her mind.

"Evening, James," Myrna replied automatically and gave a somber nod.

She felt a casual glance roam over her body. Dressed up like this, it was no wonder. "May I say, you look beautiful Miss Castro. Poor Zane. Got him working overtime while going out for a party?"

Was it an honest concern for Zane or was this a test for Myrna? Maybe he was onto her. How would the original Myrna answer? Thinking back, the appropriate response was readily on her lips. "I am afraid even a party is work for me, James."

"Too true." They arrived at the ground floor. James indicated for Myrna to leave before him. "After you."

With a nod, Myrna headed out and realized this was the perfect time to test out the app. Surely, Myrna would have left notes about James. The app dutifully provided a few details and it was surprisingly easy to string together a few sentences.

"Thank you for the bran muffins, James. They were delicious. Tell your husband I said so. To be honest, I can't wait for my next birthday to taste them again."

There was a barely previeveable stumble by James and then the large guard laughed. "You had me fooled there for a while, Zane. Nicely done. Wait, I mean, Myrna. Of course."

Myrna took being found out in stride. "Say, what gave me away?"

James gave a few last chuckles and then took pity. "Bran muffins. Myrna hates them. She included a reference to them in her little spy app to clue me in. She did that for most of us guards. Now, don't look so disappointed. The security scanner over there would have clued me in too."

James was right. Everything could be faked in today's day and age. From looks to biometrics. Even DNA tests didn't stand up well if one could change bodies. Or even clone them. But souls were unique by default. Hence scanning them is the ultimate security measure. Thankfully, Zane assuming Myrna's identity was an open secret.

"Well, hopefully, no one will call me out on it again," Myrna admitted with a sigh. "I wasn't really prepared for this gig."

James gave a lazy shrug. "Well, it is the right day for Myrna to pull a stunt like that. I am just surprised she roped you into it."

"She does this often?" Myrna pondered just what the original was up to. Not to mention that if this was a regular thing, then maybe Zane's soul would end up in this body again. Maybe even often.

"You have to discuss that with her. But until then-" James opened up the front door and held it open for Myrna. "Your chariot awaits."

Indeed, it did. It was the same self-driving car that had picked up Myrna and Zane a year ago. This reminded Myrna just how long ago Zane had escaped the slums. Yet, it also felt so very recently.

With a murmured thanks, Myrna walked over to the car and stepped in. The doors closed by itself and the car sped up as soon as Myrna sat down. The ride didn't take long and Myrna saw a small line of cars before her that stopped at a boardwalk with a red carpet. At once, her heart started to race. No one had mentioned reporters and photographers.

All too soon, Myrna had to exit and walk the carpet. Her instinct was to run, but she took measured steps. She stopped now and then. Posing and smiling for the cameras. Hoping that it looked natural. All the while cursing out the original Myrna under her breath. She felt exposed out here. Clad in a revealing dress with fabric so thin, she hoped it wouldn't tear. Aside from panties, heels, and a clutch, Myrna had only herself and her wit. Both were tested right now.

It should have been a relief heading off the red carpet and into the venue, but Myrna was confronted with her first social obstacle. The hosts of this event. Thankfully the app was on the ball and ready to go. Providing her with information. Maybe too much as some details nearly made her stumble.

"Myrna! Glad you could make it." She was drawn into a sugary hug by one Barbara Kinsdale. In flesh and soul. The same couldn't be said for her husband.

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world." Myrna hoped her voice was just as sugary and camouflaged how she really felt. After all, the original Myrna did miss this event. On purpose. But this lie was expected of her. At least to all the glamor shows Zane had seen in the welfare slums. Not that he liked those shows, but they now helped Myrna out. She turned to the second host and hoped her smile covered up how she really felt. "Arnold. Good to see you."

"Is it?" The man gave a wolfish grin. "We snatched up that consulting gig with Langdon & Stonecast that Castro Analytics wanted so much. Surely you are cross with me."

Myrna had to hand it to him. Whoever was steering Arnold's body perfectly acted like a smug bastard from high society. The app clued Myrna in that not everything was as it seemed. The third notice the app provided said as much: "If Arnold is smug about Langdon & Stonecast, act like a gracious loser. The longer he is distracted by this faint, the more clients we can pouch behind his back." Now it was up to her to make it work.

"It smarts," Myrna said while giving a small wince. Then plastered an obviously fake smile on her face. "You outplayed us, Arnold. Congratulations. Now you better not trip up, because we will be waiting."

Arnold gave a barely perceivable nod and then took a sip of his champagne glass. "Until our next sparring match, Myrna. Enjoy the party."

"Thank you." Clearly dismissed, Myrna made her way further into the venue. Wondering just how much this little exchange mattered in the overall picture. Two actors reading lines the real players wrote. Clearly, Castro Analytics was at odds with whatever company Arnold and Barbara Kinsdale owned. Not being above underhanded tactics despite playing nice in public. But was Myrna's little exchange here pure banal play or another move in a complicated game of corporate chess? The original Myrna hadn't emphasized any reason to be here aside from being seen.

It was just a few steps to the main hall and Myrna had trouble taking it all in. It was a nauseating display of wealth and impressions. To her left was a big buffet with plenty of exquisite morsels for her to try. The plates were scattered between a small menagerie of ice-carved animals. The floor before her led to the dance floor. Currently not occupied by dancers. but spectators, as over their head acrobats performed incredible feeds along drapes of fabric. How they didn't fall to their death was beyond Myrna.

There were many adjacent rooms and areas filled with small groups of people amidst excited small talk. The thought that she had to join in made Myrna shudder. Among the masses were waiters and waitresses who balanced trays of drinks or appetizers. Overlooking the masses were balconies that belonged to an upper floor. On one such balcony, Myrna spotted a person who took notice of her. An older gentleman. A natural tan. Black hair that had its fair share of gray spread through. And an intense stare. Trouble? Myrna wasn't sure. The app wasn't helpful either as the man was too far away to be identified. Taking the better part of valor, Myrna took an offered champagne glass and started to mingle in the masses.

Her actual job, striking conversations with random people, was surprisingly easy. Now and then a person was alone and appeared to be available. All Myrna had to do was slowly make her way over and let the app whisper secrets to her. By the time she arrived, Myrna had their names ready. Followed by pleasantries and then some casual inquiries over family, company, or acquaintances. Of course, Myrna had her fair share of questions. The app easily provided the answers.

Before Myrna noticed, an hour had passed. She had steered through the crowd as if on cruise control. The app did the heavy lifting. Myrna was just the puppet to enact the prompts. It was exhilarating how easy it was. But eerie too. There was no real connection anywhere. Only shallow talk and pleasantries. It was no wonder the original Myrna avoided such a function. Or any other of the many people Myrna met. She guessed about two-thirds were controlled by professional actors. Those who actually showed up were most often at the bottom of the food chain from high society.

Lost in a daze of small talk and canapés, Myrna nearly stumbled as her app suddenly flashed red text in her vision. A man came closer by the name of Alfred Bramsteen. Myrna didn't need the app to know that Alfred was a serious playboy. Or, at least, thought of himself as such. The pompous walk over to Myrna said as much. It was also evident that she wouldn't have time to evade him as she clearly was in his crosshairs.

Before he even opened his mouth, Myrna fixated on one line in the app: "No matter how annoying, resist kicking him in the nuts." The line was written in red and underlined twice. Myrna braced herself.

"Myrna. You look ravishing!" He took her hand before Myrna could step back and placed a real kiss on it. Not one mimicked barely above, as was customary. "That dress looks brilliant on you, but it pales in comparison to your beauty."

Myrna's instinct, to find an excuse and flee, fell away. Now that he was close, Alfred wasn't so bad. Kind handsome. She had to admit there was some natural charm to him. A blush came over her and she felt slightly hot. Myrna needed a moment to categorize the feeling. She was aroused. Of course, Myrna knew how it felt to be aroused. As Zane, a man. And she had inhabited women before, but those had been androids. Build for pleasure. Their arousal was strong, immediate, and overwhelming. This was different. More subtle. It gave her butterflies in the stomach. She decided she kind of liked it. And him.

An alarm went off in her head. Literally. Some app opened up a pop-up. Overlaying a good chunk of her view. "Warning! Potent artificial pheromones detected. Releasing countermeasures." A shudder went through Myrna and from one moment to the next, the haze of arousal lifted and she became clear headed again. It was followed by rage. That asshole had doused her. Artificial pheromones? Myrna hadn't even known that was a thing! Now, she felt violated. Her first instinct was to get distance. Force it, perhaps. Maybe with a kick between-

No, she remembered the memo in time. Myrna closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she was calm but still angry. The slap that followed could probably be heard for a dozen meters or more. Even over the ever-present murmuring of the crowd.

"What was that for?" The shock was clearly evident on Alfred's face.

"Don't act innocent with me," Myrna pressed out through her teeth. The app's warning came to her mind and Myrna could add up the obvious. "Up to your old tricks? Pheromones? Really?"

Alfred was quick to regain his balance. Notably a step away from Myrna. "Oh, mon chéri. You used to like my company. Pheromones included. But no, you had to get some silly implant and ruin all the fun."

"I don't know. Slapping you was pretty fun." Myrna wasn't even sure if that was her acting the role or not. But taking pompous asses like him down a notch was pretty satisfying. Hopefully, it wouldn't bite her in the ass later.

"You always had a violent side to you," Alfred remarked and tried a winning smile. It fell flat. Now that Myrna knew what was up, she was on her guard. Still, the next sentence caught her off balance. "At least tonight we spar in person. The last actor you hired to impersonate me was a little too enthusiastic. Kicked me in the-"

Alfred thought she was the original Myrna. Well, it was flattering, she guessed. Didn't he have an app to clue him in? Or maybe she was distracting enough that Afred hadn't bothered to look.

"Nuts?" Myrna smugly volunteered. "Not in my playbook tonight."

Myrna walked away before Alfred recovered enough from his confusion. She heard a brief "Wait! You aren't the-", but didn't slow down to hear the rest. Whatever else Alfred had to offer, she wasn't interested. In fact, she could do with a break. Having talked for over an hour left her throat parched and she barely had any chance to taste some of the offered delectable morsels at the buffet. It was, after all, one of the perks original Myrna had tempted her with.

Filling a small plate and grabbing a flute of bubbly, Myrna made her way to one of the secluded balconies. Hopefully, here, she could catch a brief break from the social theater around her. It was exhausting and it was no wonder the original Myrna had outsourced the experience.

Balcony after balcony was taken up by one or two revelers who needed a quiet moment. Just like her. At last, she spotted an empty one and stepped in. Just to find out she was mistaken, a deep voice spoke up.

"Just the person I wanted to see. Take a seat."

Myrna turned around to apologize and excuse herself when the app provided the details to the person addressing her. Alvaro Castro. CEO and owner of Castro Analytics. Not to mention the little detail that he was the father of the original Myrna.

The shock nearly made Myrna drop her plate, but she recovered in time. Caught like a deer in the headlights, Myrna froze. How should she react? Stick to the act and pretend to be this stranger's daughter? That was crazy. Maybe it was better to be open and address his boss as a good company worker should.

"Mister Castro." She gave a slight bow. Myrna didn't dare to do more or scatter canapés around. That would make for an even worse introduction. "I wasn't made aware that you would be attending."

"How formal." Alvaro gave her a frown that was more resigned than chagrined. "Please, call me Alvaro. Or father. Yes, to break the vale for a moment, you are an actor. Humor me, will you. Apparently, this is the only kind of father-daughter time I get nowadays."

Myrna hesitated for a moment. Her "father" appeared approachable enough, but she couldn't forget that he was her boss. More specifically, Zane's boss. "Very well, father." The last word was a little bit forced. This was just plain weird, but she reckoned going through would be easier than around. "I am sorry we haven't seen each other lately. The business keeps me busy."

"The business-" Alvaro gave a sudden sharp laugh. "Good one. Oh, I know, daughter. You do work a lot of hours. Managing way too many branch offices on your own and nearly tearing my head off every time I suggest splitting the load with more people. It is commendable." He gave off a sigh that Myrna interpreted as being finished, but he suddenly flippantly continued. "Then again, I wish you would come home after work instead of taking one of our clients' androids for a joy ride, just to screw one of our employees. Not that I fault you for that. Despite the risk of HR complaints or scandals. But I'd love to see you for dinner more often. Please remember this later."

Myrna went rigid as alarm bells went off in her head. It wasn't easier this time, just because they were figurative. She might actually prefer the encounter with Alfred over this awkward situation. Did he know about the joy rides? Did original Myrna know that he knew? And the fact that most of these were with Zane wasn't lost on Myrna. Just how much did Myrna's father know? Was this his way of telling Zane off?

Myrna was just about to reluctantly speak up when Alvaro continued. "Say, what is keeping my daughter busy this evening."

"There was this business opportunity. An unexpected meeting-" Myrna started and immediately stopped as he began to chuckle.

"Business meeting? On any other day, I wouldn't doubt that excuse. You, my daughter, should think about that. Stay a little longer. Say, an hour, and then head back to the branch office you came from. Have a peek at that meeting." Another quiet chuckle, before Alvaro dropped the next bomb. "Zane Graves. Junior doll rigger. Or what do they call it nowadays in the maintenance bays? Joga dance doll? Zane Graves. Employed for a little over a year with our company. Good remarks in the file. Didn't flunk out like most of the newly hired. Does well, overall, I would say. But the question remains, my daughter. Why Zane Graves?"

The blush wouldn't leave her face no matter how often Myrna nervously swallowed. What could she say? This man had her off balance in seconds and now, she ran a high risk that might get Zane fired. She had to be diplomatic.

"The business meeting was very short notice. Zane- " A fleeting thought nearly made her laugh. How strange was it to address her original self in the third person? This whole body swap business had her mind in a pretzel. "He was available on short notice. As a personal favor."

Alvaro nodded along slightly as Myrna explained. She could tell by the laugh lines around his eyes and the slight twist of the corner of his mouth that Alvaro was amused. But how much of it was contributed to Zane, past Myrna, or present Myrna?

"And I thought the agency we usually use has plenty of actors on stand-by. Let me check. Oh, look. Over a hundred are available. Even on short notice. All of them are women, as you usually prefer those to steer your body. So, the question remains. Why Zane Graves?" Alvaro quickly held up a hand in a placating manner. "No, perhaps I don't need to know the answer to this puzzle. But a friendly advice. Maybe Zane should find out, right?" The man leaned back with a hearty chuckle. "You look a bit pale, my daughter. Eat. Drink. And maybe after, how about a little father-daughter dance. If that is all I get from my daughter then I might as well take the opportunity."

Myrna looked down on her selection of delightful morsels and suddenly had no trace of hunger left. What was her counterpart up to? The original Myrna. Just how much of this evening was a fabrication? Had there been a sudden business meeting or was that just smoke and mirrors? Original Myrna didn't strike her as a planner and schemer. Yet how well did she know the original Myrna? Now and then she rushed into the office for some hectic orders or scattering of information and then she was gone. The most time Zane spent with her was when she jumped into one of the sex androids for a stress relief session after work. Not the finest time to get the hang of someone's personality.

Myrna's father was right. She should find out why Zane of all people was chosen. There had to be a reason. One that wasn't obvious. But there was a little time left before Myrna would confront her counterpart. Her hunger returned as she took the first few bites and Alvaro turned out to be a pleasant entertainer once the mysteries were pushed aside. Telling a few anecdotes from the early days of Castro Analytics. Myrna even enjoyed the little father-daughter dance.

But then, the time was up. Bidding her farewell from the hosts, Myrna made her way back to the car. It was time to face the mysteries surrounding this evening head-on.

---

Myrna

---

The office was dark when Myrna arrived. Safe for the flickering of lights coming from the maintenance bay. A smattering of voices could be heard. It didn't sound like a business meeting. Too much shouting for Myrna's taste. Then again, how many business meetings had she attended? Shouting might be normal.

Curious, but weary, Myrna made her way closer. Suddenly reminded of the many horror flicks she had seen in her lifetime. Then one shout broke through. "Touchdown!" It was followed by enthusiastic shouts by Zane. Her original body.

Myrna headed into the maintenance bay and froze at the sight. "What the-" Where did the large couch come from? One Zane was jumping up and down. An open beer in one hand. Probably from the cooler beside the couch. Beyond that bizarre sight was a large projection of a football game. Not just any game either. The Super Bowl.

"Myrna!" Zane shouted as he spotted her. "Perfect timing. Come. Come. It's so close, you won't believe it. Ten minutes left and the Sheffield Shewolves are in the lead. I am telling you. They got this in the bag."

Myrna was baffled. This was the scheme? The hidden truth behind everything? "You switched with me so you could watch the game?"

"Games! And not just any games!" an animated slightly drunk Zane insisted. "The games. A once in a lifetime event. The Sheffield Shewolves are about to win the WNFL. And because of a loophole, They can play in the NFL too. The match for the NFL Super Bowl starts a half hour after this one concludes. Can you imagine? If one team manages to win the Super Bowl of the WNFL and the NFL? In the same year! This is gonna be epic. I am telling you."

"I know. I wanted to watch it too!" An angry outburst was maybe not the best way to address her boss, but Myrna was furious. All this cloak and dagger stuff - not to mention the hints Alvaro dropped - just to find out someone wanted to blow off her Daddy so she could watch the games. In Zane's body no less. Couldn't she have hired-

Myrna's anger evaporated in a puff. "Why switch with me? And don't give me the crap about it being short notice or a lack of actresses to choose from. That bullshit and this had been premeditated and-"

"Shh!" Pretender Zane hugged her as the game resumed. "After the game, I'll explain everything. Promise."

Well, she wanted to see the games too, so Myrna stomped over and let herself fall onto the couch. She could wait a few minutes. Hopefully, by then, her emotions would have calmed down. It was ill-advised to tear off someone's head if they were currently occupying your body.

The game resumed with another bold play by the Sheffield Shewolves, but Myrna couldn't really concentrate. Now and then glancing at Zane. Or rather, her own body animated by a different soul. The mannerisms were so different. The Zane before her was bold and radiated a kind of strength that Myrna thought wouldn't come naturally to her.

There was also the smell. Yes, she could smell the half dozen drunken beers and the one in progress. But there was more. She needed a moment to pinpoint it. Was that sweat? It wasn't much, but surprisingly it wasn't that bad to her. She even kind of liked it and-

# Compatible pheromones detected. #
# Analyzing origin. #
# Pheromones evaluated as 100% natural #

Once again, the pop-up of the app brought Myrna's thought process to an abrupt stop. She needed a moment to parse the information. Then, it blurred out of her: "I am attracted to you?"

A chuckle was the answer. Followed by: "Took you long enough."

"An app literally pointed it out to me."

Zane used the remote to mute the game. "The Shewolves have it in the bag. Guess we can do it now." He turned around to Myrna. "Technically your body is attracted to my body. Well, yours is mine and mine is yours. Okay. This is getting confusing. Switch back and I explain?"

"Sounds good to me."

Myrna was directed to stand in the same alcove she had started her journey today. Impatiently, she waited as Zane made his way over to the transfer bed. Then, the familiar feeling of fading out encompassed her.

---

Zane

---

Once more, he was Zane. Glad to be back in his original body, Zane sat up, only to nearly fall over. Just how many beers did Myrna have in his body? It couldn't possibly be just a half dozen. For that, he felt too far gone from sobriety.

Speaking of the culprit, Myrna walked into a room and offered him a packaged pill. "Here. This will sober you up quickly."

A little glare and then Zane took the pill. Dry swallowing it a moment later. That the room stopped spinning just seconds later was a miracle he ignored. Standing up, he gave Myrna a serious look. "We need to talk." Myrna pointed with her head to the hallway and Zane followed her back towards the couch. They made themselves comfortable and Myrna grabbed another beer. Zane shook his head as she offered him one too. "What was this evening all about? And please, don't bullshit me. I know you are playing some kind of game. I just haven't figured out how all the pieces fit together."

"Alright." Myrna gave a short glance at the screen and then turned around fully to give Zane her whole attention. "Let's get the obvious out of the way. I am attracted to you. You are attracted to me. Or rather, our bodies are. Do you know the difference?"

For a moment, Zane wanted to point out that Myrna could have just told him she was attracted to him and have a talk about it. Like reasonable adults. But then Zane remembered the encounter with Alfred Bramsteen and his artificial pheromones. Clearly, there was more to it and Myrna wanted him to figure it out.

"I met someone named Alfred," Zane volunteered.

A flicker of a frown was all Zane could see before Myrna had herself under control. "I kind of hoped you would. You didn't kick him in the nuts, did you?"

"App said not to," Zane remarked but then shrugged his shoulders. "Didn't say not to slap him. He might still have the outline of your hand on his cheek."

"Well, serves him right." Myrna leaned back and then gave a deep sigh. "In the circles where I now live, bodily attraction is cheaply bought. Worse, it can be wielded as a weapon. As you might have figured out."

Was Myrna implying he was somehow trying to seduce her? She was the one fucking him silly in many late-night hours. Granted, as Candi or any of the other sex bots. Then again, could these androids be impacted by pheromones?

Zane squared his shoulders and gave it his best serious face. "I swear, I am not trying to seduce you or take advantage of you."

"I know." Myrna waved her hands as if that could fan out the accusation faster. "But I had to confirm first. You know, it ain't just people like Alfred. Corporate espionage can be a wicked beast. If I tell you that it is possible to tailor a human clone exactly to the liking of a target person, would you believe me? All that is left is to find the right soul to steer it. Lots of those are waiting in the welfare slums and eager for an opportunity like that. Smuggle the candidate onto the recruitment list of the company with the target and wait for the magic to happen. Sounds like bad fiction, but no, this is the world we live in. When I first found myself attracted to you, I suspected it, but I couldn't find any evidence confirming it. But the whole point is, the whole concept of love is defunct."

Zane frowned. Like many, he hoped one day to find the one person. Someone to share his life with. Myrna's statement was a bleak one. Could he trust his own heart? If Myrna was right, the answer was no.

"Love is dead?" Zane asked. "Is that what this whole evening was all about?"

"Love is-" Myrna stopped and obviously thought about it. "A little thought experiment. We are attracted to each other and give it a go. Have a relationship. Maybe fall in love. But what happens with our love when we switch bodies? What would be left if we take away our bodily attraction?"

Love was defunct. Now Zane got it. One could still fall in love. But that was one's own body tricking a person into mistaking physical attraction for spiritual attraction. What if they started to date and then switched bodies? What would be left?

"I barely know you," Zane concluded. "The person behind the body. Behind any body you choose to inhabit. That's a poor foundation for a relationship."

"There is something else," Myrna added. Then hesitated to explain. A swig of beer helped to give her courage. "Do you know yourself? I mean, you are from the welfare slums. God, I hate them. Not you." Myrna was quick to grab Zane's arm. Her fingers kept lingering on it even as she continued. "Not even the people. I hate the concept of welfare slums. Everything you know growing up is shaped to make you all perfect candidates for various jobs. It goes beyond your basic education and whatever training courses they offer. Even your very hobbies or entertainment is restricted to those making you either more suitable or docile."

The obligatory protest was on Zane's tongue, but he stopped himself. The more he thought about it, the more it rang true. Two aspects of his welfare slum life had been watching porn and doing yoga. If anyone had asked him two years ago if either of those would help him land a job, Zane would have laughed in their face. Yet both activities had come up in the job interview he had with Myrna.

And what about now? Zane still had the same hobbies and interests as before. Reading books, doing yoga, watching porn, and a few minor activities. Just in a nicer environment. His own apartment. Granted, he wasn't much into porn anymore. The allure waned when one fucks their boss regularly in different pornstar-worthy sex androids.

The conclusion was a harsh one. "I am boring because I am one of millions from the same mold."

"That is not the point I wanted to make." Her gaze was piercing as she passionately explained. "People from the slums can be roughly put into two boxes. Number one, those that now can afford many new things and go ham buying stuff. Making debts fast and usually crash and burn within a few months. I would say that's not you. The second type hoards whatever money they can and squirrel it away for the off-chance they get fired again. Their lives are barely different than before. Nicer clothes, their own place, and better food. But they cling to who they were before. Because that's how they were taught to act. But Zane now is your time. There is uniqueness in you. It was paved over by the government and their strict education. But now is the time. You can break out of the mold. Find out who you really are."

There was a saying that came to Zane's mind at that moment: Live a little! Myrna was right. He had been stuck in a rut and hadn't even known about it. Myrna's reveal was eye-opening. Was he really living? What was there besides work? Was he blinded by cheap pleasures and failed to see the real opportunities? Myrna was right indeed. He should explore a bit. Find new hobbies. Ways to express himself. But there was indeed a problem. As much as Zane tried to come up with ideas of things to try, his mind failed him. Up to now, he had walked around with blinders on him and failed to interact with his surroundings. He escaped from the welfare slums, but it was still deep within his heart. Who was he? If Zane couldn't answer that to himself, how could anyone else?

"You have a point. Several good points. I-" Zane pinched his nose and then ran his hand through his hair. Myrna just about shattered his entire worldview. Granted, she had been gentle while doing so, but the damage was done. Yet, he recognized that he couldn't have walked forever in ignorance. This talk had been necessary. That didn't mean that it left him in a good spot. "I don't know how to go from here."

"I can't help you there. Well, I can, but I won't." Seeing the slight hurt in Zane's eyes, she rushed to explain. "Remember my not-so-hypothetical case of hiring a person from the slums to honey-trap someone from the competition? It's common. Worse, some people do it to themselves. Build the perfect lover. Falling in love: guaranteed. No surprises. You know exactly what you get."

"That sounds sad. And boring in a way." Why had Myrna directed the discussion to this topic? Zane didn't have to think very hard. "You feel that guiding me could inadvertently cause exactly that. Even unintended."

"That and-" Myrna softly squeezed his arm as assurance. "I want you to develop yourself without influence. Look, pheromones aside, I like you. But I don't want you to bend yourself into a shape just so we can be together. Don't set that as a goal. Become who you feel comfortable to be. And then, in two or three years, we will see. Maybe we will give it a shot. Or we just end up as friends. Even just remaining co-workers is okay. All of these variants are desirable in their own way."

Zane gave her a nod, but couldn't agree on all points. "I am not sure just staying as co-workers can be desirable. A relationship aside, becoming friends sounds better than nothing."

Myrna gave him a bemused smile. "You had an evening in my body. Walked in the circles I do. What is your verdict about high society?"

Instead of answering quickly, Zane gave it some thought. Step by step he went through the evening. Now with the added insight that Myrna had given him. The superficial meeting with the hosts. The run-in with Alfred. Chatting with many acquaintances about trivialities with no real substance. In a way, it was sad and a feeling of pity for Myrna flared up within Zane. The only real connection she appeared to have was with her father and that relationship appeared to be strained too.

"It's a farce," Zane concluded out loud. "The whole evening was fake. Superficial and no substance. It was a lot and not in a good way. I am sorry you have to endure that."

"I don't mind. Was born into it, really." Myrna tried to sound nonchalant, but Zane could hear it was anything but. "Truth is, I have plenty of friends that are as fake as they get. Acquaintances I have known for years and never really met. Believe me, Zane, I don't need another fake friend. I prefer a cordial co-worker over that. And so should you. But this isn't about me. It is about you and your decision. Just know this, if we ever get into a relationship - even just as friends - you will be drawn into that world. Not everyone can stomach that. You have to make up your mind if you are willing to accept that part of our world."

Zane remained quiet for a moment and contemplated all he had heard this evening. It was a lot. Then, a sharp laugh escaped him. Myrna looked at him wearily and he decided to clue her in. "All my life, I thought those wealthy people up in their towers must have it good. Luxury and freedom. But I am starting to think the whole system is rotten. From top to bottom."

"Not everything. There are niches. Spots where one can blossom. My father and I agree that we at Castro Analytics try to create as many of those spaces as we can, but it is hard. Fighting against the waves. But we are making progress. Stay with us and we will give you the best opportunity to find yourself and live a good life."

Zane had to agree. There was no doubt in his mind that most other companies never gave a shit about their employees and if they blossomed or withered away. But here, it was different. Sure, usually he saw Myrna rush by their office. Come and gone in seconds. But there was passion there. Not to mention that she cared.

"I think I need to do a lot of self-reflection."

"I know," Myrna softly said with empathy. Then suddenly perked up. "Look, the next game is starting. Go Sheffield Shewolves!"

Zane gave it a weak chuckle. For the rest of the evening, they watched the game. But most of it, Zane didn't pay attention. His mind was on other things. Who was he and what did he want to become? Simple questions that were surprisingly hard to figure out. By halftime, he only knew one thing: he wouldn't solve this mystery tonight. It helped him enjoy the rest of the game.

The end.

---

Author’s Note

---

Dear Reader.

Thank you for making it through another Maintenance Workout story. I know, originally the Maintenance Workout stories were all about sexy fun and hijinx. But it was time for Zane to have a bit of character development and it gave me pause. Where did I want to go with this series?

The next few installments will be a bit more serious too. But don’t worry. There will be more sexy hijinx too. Provided my dear readers vote for this series again. Speaking of. This story was voted for on my Discord server. If you want to have a say in it too, you can join for free here: Cassy's Library

Until next time.

Hugs and kisses,

Cassy

Scott flinched as porcelain scattered behind him. He took a quick step to stand in front of Mollie. Just in case her mother threw another mug.

"You!" Mollie's mother pointed at him as if Scott was the devil incarnate. "You poisoned her! With this nonsense." She lifted up the digital tablet that had escalated the situation. "Technology!" She spat out that word as if it was filth. Then she glared past Scott to her daughter. "Didn't we teach you better? We only use nature or magic!"

Scott could feel Mollie's hands cling to his back. Digging her fingers into his pullover as if her life depended on it. He knew she was frightened, but still, she fought back. "Magic is technology. It is a manipulative quantum field that-"

"Enough!" Mollie's mother threw the digital tablet on the floor. It shattered into a thousand pieces. "I don't want to hear another word. To your room!"

Scott's view shifted. He was outside of Mollie's house. A hastily packed bag landed beside him in the grass. "Be careful!" he urged his girlfriend who tried not to lose her balance or grip on the roof tiles slick with morning dew.

Worried, he saw Mollie make her way to the edge and then climb down the trellis that was part of the porch. As soon as her feet hit the ground, Scott rushed to her. Drawing her into an embrace and kissing her deeply.

"Are we really doing this?" Mollie whispered as they broke for air.

"If you let me, I will take you far away," Scott promised.

Mollie took a last glance back at her parent's house. "I never want to return here."

Scott offered his hand and as she took it, both ran towards freedom. Hardly any time at all passed before they were in the middle of a forest. Pushing through some underbrush, they arrived at an old dirt road.

"Is this it?" Mollie asked while pointing at an automobile barely in sight. She sounded excited. Eagerly pulling him closer.

"It's not much," Scott remarked as they arrived at the van a few seconds later. "But it should run just fine. By tomorrow, we will be far away."

"Let's go." Mollie urged him. "Come on, Scott."

"One last thing before we leave forever." He fell on one of his knees. Pulling out a ring with a small gemstone inlet I to the band. "Mollie, will you marry me?"

"Yes. Yes, I do." He slipped the ring on her finger and Mollie looked so happy as she looked at it. "It's beautiful. Where did you get it?"

Before Scott could answer, he was blinded by a bright light. It was enough to wake him up. However, the sight that greeted him was just as beautiful. Mollie was close to him and still soundly asleep. He scooted a little closer to escape the ray of sunshine that had woken him. Then, he gently brushed a strand of hazelnut hair out of Mollie's face. Every time he looked at her, he felt like the luckiest guy in the world all over again.

For a moment, Scott's thoughts returned to his dream. It was an amalgamation of his memories. He hadn't been there that last evening when Mollie's parents had found the digital tablet he had sourced for her. But he had witnessed the tantrums often enough that his mind could reconstruct the scene.

He had been there the next morning. So early the sun hadn't yet risen. Called by a little magic spell Mollie had used. Unlike his dream, it had taken hours to reach the woods and find the van he had hidden there. Their escape had taken two days before either of them relaxed. Then, after one week of freedom, Scott proposed.

It was funny how a dream could compress all these events into a single day. He wondered how often he would continue to dream about it. It was the story of their happy end. The happy ever after that they now enjoyed. But it was also a reminder of the darkness they both had escaped.

His thoughts returned to the present as Mollie stirred. Slowly blinking awake, Scott was drawn in by her unusual eyes - irises that were purple but shifted to brown on the outside - and the warm smile.

"Good morning," Mollie whispered.

"Good morning, my love," Scott returned.

They shared a kiss. And, as usual, it led to more. A half-hour later, they actually got up. Scott opened the side door of the van and stretched his body. Enjoying the sun and overall nice weather.

"I'll make us breakfast," Scott volunteered. Grabbing the small camping cooker from the van and a few ingredients.

"Thanks." Mollie gave him a lovely smile and then grabbed her digital tablet. A new one they had gotten recently. Opening up the rear of the van, she started to make herself comfortable and began studying.

Mollie's mother might have accused Scott of ruining her, but he knew better. She was a rebel. The first time Scott had met her, it was in a public liberal two towns over from where she lived. Just being there was taboo in the Arcane-Luddite settlement where she had grown up. Her education had been seriously lacking and now she was determined to catch up.

The breakfast came together nicely. A few eggs from the farm Scott had helped out yesterday and some greens and veggies Mollie had scavenged from the nearby woods. It wasn't much, but enough for them. Helping them save on the precious little money they had.

Mollie kept scrolling through the tablet. "The internet is so slow here," she cursed to herself but then looked up at Scott. "How are the batteries?"

"I'll check." He got up and walked to the van. Specifically to the driver's side and poked his head in. "Give or take thirty percent." The small van ran on electric motors and had solar panels on the roof. It wasn't a beast to haul stuff and couldn't keep up with faster automobiles, but it was enough for them. "Maybe one or two percent more when we get ready to leave," Scott added after returning to the small camping site they shared their breakfast at.

"That should last about two hours of driving," Mollie mused aloud. Tapping a bit more on her tablet, she took her sweet time to eat up. "Should be enough to reach a town called Frumond. Maybe a little further. We could look for more work there."

Whenever they had the opportunity to earn a few bucks, Scott and Mollie took it. But they didn't look for permanent work or residence yet. They still traveled away from the Pennsylvanian Heartland and the Arkane-Luddite settlement Mollie had grown up in.

"Sounds like a plan," Scott remarked. "Eat up and we can get going."

Mollie gave him a raspberry and proceeded to slowly eat her food. Probably enjoying it more than Scott had. Not that he minded. He loved her little antics. While Mollie finished her breakfast, Scott prepared the van. Not that there was much to do. He folded up the mattress and the large sleeping back they shared. Then moved some of their belongings from the passenger seat to the back of the van. There really wasn't much space. The van was quite small. It had roof rails, but they didn't have any hard cases they could strap to it. Maybe they will find some soon. Of course, they would block the two solar panels that powered their van.

A quarter-hour later, everything was stowed, and they hit the road. As always, Scott drove while Mollie played navigator from the passenger seat. He had given her some driving lessons in empty parking lots, but she was far from ready to hit the open road.

"Told you we will make it." Mollie gave him a self-serving grin an hour and forty minutes later as they passed the town sign for Frumond.

"I never doubted you," Scott remarked. Then, he slowed down the van a little. "Keep your eyes peeled for job offers."

Apparently, they weren't the only people roaming the land by car. There was a whole culture about free living for nomadic travelers. As such, many employers from large to small took advantage and offered small temporary jobs. They weren't the best paying, but it was enough to make a small living from it. Especially if one lived as frugally as Scott and Mollie. Most of Scott's savings had been annihilated when he bought the van. Thanks to the hard work of both of them, the few hundred bucks he had were now close to a grand.

"Scott, look!" Mollie pointed out a larger store at the side.

Scott couldn't see a board with a job offer, but that was okay. Mollie had spotted one of the Garments Second Life stores. A reseller of second-hand clothing. They both had escaped their old life with not a lot of outfits to their name and the roaming freelancer work had caused some wear and tear. The first time they had shopped at one of these, they had gotten a good deal. As Scott drove the van onto the shop's parking lot, he mused that this kind would be their preferred shopping method for quite a while.

"We've got to get you a pair of new jeans or two," Mollie said as she left the van. Then continued as Scott was out too and caught up to her. "T-shirts too. And maybe some work boots if they have them."

"All of that we need for you too," Scott reminded her. "That harvesting gig recently had been good and got us some cash. But it was horrible on our clothes."

The store was decently sized. Not as large as a department store, but as they entered, Mollie and Scott saw enough products that different areas were reserved for different kinds of clothing.

"Ready?" Mollie asked. Eagerly rubbing her hands. "Last time felt like a big treasure hunt."

"One we pay for," Scott reminded her, but he eased up as he saw Mollie's smile. It was infectious. "Just remember, doesn't just have to be in decent shape, but also affordable enough."

"Cheapskate," Mollie teased. Of course, they both knew their financial limitations.

Over the next hour, they methodically moved from area to area. Finding decent enough jeans wasn't the problem. Neither was finding shirts and tops. There was plenty of selection for those. Scott struck out on boots, but Mollie found a decent pair that was barely used.

"Come here," Scott suddenly said and grabbed Mollie's hand. Gently dragging her past rows of dresses. Not that she needed those. Her upbringing had been very traditional and she had more dresses than she wanted to wear. She only had packed her favorite two and barely wore them since having purchased her first jeans.

"Oh Scott, we can't," Mollie exclaimed as she saw where he was dragging her.

"Maybe not in our budget now, but we can pretend for a moment, right?" With a flourish, Scott pulled out a white wedding dress from dozens of similar ones. "How about this one or is that too much lace?"

Mollie tried to give him a stern look but then broke out in a smile. "Not enough lace!" She joined Scott in looking through those available dresses.

Scott's determination to make Mollie his wife and make her happy grew with each dress they examined together. Technically she was his fiancé, but both knew it would be quite some time before the wedding bells would ring for them. They had talked about it in detail and agreed on a plan. First, they needed to find a place to settle down. Of course, they needed some money, but both were determined to make new friends. Those who supported their marriage instead of shunning them both for their love. And only then, they would say their vows and tie the knot. It might be months off or even years.

As they neared the end of available wedding dresses, Scott noticed Mollie being distracted by a nearby display. "You know, nothing stopping you from looking over there too."

"Really?" Mollie asked with big doe eyes.

There were times when Mollie's upbringing still shone through and Scott vowed to enable her instead of keeping her down. "Really," he confirmed as he offered her his hand. Together, they walked over to the women's lingerie section.

This was not the plain underwear Mollie had grown up with and expected to wear. The finer threats made for decorative and flattering garments that were mostly unsuitable for daily wear. Especially for the gigs of random freelancing they did.

Mollie roamed through a few garments on display. Her eyes wide as those of a child in a candy store. With a giggle, she looked at Scott. "I feel so naughty right now. Just from looking at them."

"You know we can afford one or two of these if you like them," Scott reminded her. Money was tight, but if it made her happy he was all for it. Not to mention that he would benefit from it too. Still, looking at some of those price tags made his stomach flip. A set of bra, panty, and garters could be as expansive as a third to half of the pile of clothes they already had put together.

"It is not something I really need right now," Mollie said more to herself than to Scott. Then the childish mischievous grin returned. "But I can certainly look."

They looked through a few sets. Not all were to Mollie's taste and those that were often were in the wrong size. There was one maybe, when Mollie suddenly grabbed Scott's arm. "Look! They have a corset!"

A little confused, Scott followed as Mollie dragged him towards it. The corset was unlike the corsets he knew. It wasn't lacy or see-through. Instead, the material was thick. It appeared to be quite rigid too. The color stood out too. Similar to hot pink, but a tad bit more dipping into the red spectrum.

"Isn't that a bit narrow at the waist for you?" Scott remarked.

"That's the point. Look, do you see these strings at the back?" Mollie turned the corset around for him to see. "They are thicker because they are used to close the corset from behind. Pulling it narrower. It is called tight-lacing. I heard these kinds of corsets can be popular with Southern Belles and with those dancers in the West. What was the dance they revived? Can Can, I think."

"How do you know all that?" Scott asked, amazed. "Aren't you supposed to be this naive blue-eyed girl that doesn't know the larger world?"

"Not blue-eyed," Mollie insisted. "And I only know because we are driving south. So I did some research and found out about Southern Belles. I got curious why a few had such narrow waists and- "Mollie stopped as she saw the mirth in Scott's eyes. She didn't have to explain herself. He was just teasing her. "Well, ever since I wondered how it would feel to wear a tight-lacing corset."

"Uncomfortable, I would guess," Scott quipped. "But if you really are just curious, we can duck into the changing room and you can try it out."

Mollie looked left and right, before leaning over to Scott. "Let's do it."

Amused, Scott shook his head as he followed Mollie to the changing rooms. He was half-minded to tell her that what she was about to do wasn't illegal, but he was too amused to point it out.

Scott placed their basket of finds aside and settled in for a little wait, but Mollie had other plans. "Honey, come in here. I need your help." A little curious, Scott slipped into the booth. Spying Mollie half-undressed was a sight he would never grow tired of. She had slung the corset around her and closed it in the front. As she saw him enter, she had new orders for him. "Can you lace me up? It is rather awkward if I do it myself."

Scott needed a moment to sort through the many strings at the back of the corset. They crisscrossed a large gap of fabric and were weaved through eyelets. It took a moment to determine that it was just one string tied into a big complicated loop. Two smaller loops extended from the waist and Scott determined this was the most likely point to tighten the whole corset at once.

"Just tell me when to stop," Scott reminded his fiancé. "I don't want to hurt you."

As Mollie nodded, Scott started to pull. First, until the string grew taunt. Then, he pulled at the loops of string a bit more. Eliciting an "Uff" from Mollie. But she was quick to urge him on for more.

Hesitant, Scott gradually tightened the corset until the gap was half closed. "How does that feel?"

"Kind of restricted. Like a hug. A really tight one," Mollie admitted while admiring her altered silhouette in the mirror. Letting her hands roam over her waist as if she couldn't believe how small it had gotten. She even tried to bend forward but found out quickly how stiff and unyielding the corset was. Then, suddenly, she gasped. "That's strange."

"What is it?" Scott immediately wanted to know. "Does it hurt? Should I undo it?"

"No. I am fine." Mollie sounded more confused than hurt too. "It is just- It felt really tight, but the feeling melted away. As if my body adjusted to it really quickly. I wonder- Can you tighten it some more?"

Scott looked a little doubtful at Mollie. Her waist already was significantly altered and compressed. But she appeared fine. Cautiously, Scott tightened it more. Only to grow confused too. Each pull on the string had been harder than before, but now it had become easier again. Maybe Mollie had been right and her body had adjusted to it.

He stopped as the gap neared three-quarters closed, but Mollie urged him on. "More. It's so strange. I feel it tighten and then the pressure goes away faster and faster. It's amazing."

At last, the gap was closed. The corset was reduced to the highest compression possible. "I think that's it," Scott said and took a step back. "It's closed and look at you. How is this possible?"

Mollie twisted and turned in front of the mirror. Admiring her altered state. Her waist had been reduced by half or even more. "How is this possible?" she whispered. Then turned around to Scott. "It is tight, but I don't feel any pressure whatsoever."

A sneaking suspicion unfolded within Scott. "Maybe it is enchanted."

Mollie looked down at the corset and then back up to Scott. "Maybe. I've seen instances of permanently altered objects by applied quantum field before, but not to this extent."

Of both of them, Mollie was more knowledgeable in the applied quantum field. More often referred to as magic. No one could really explain how it functioned, but a certain percentage of people had access to it and its effects on an instinctual level. Its utilization varied from region to region. In some, it was outlawed. Others barely tolerated it. For societies like the one Mollie came from, it was embraced to an unreasonable degree.

"You know, you can just call it magic, right?" Scott teased. "It is a lot shorter."

Mollie gave him a deadpan look before continuing. "Well, whatever this quantum effect is, it doesn't appear to be harmful. If it is a quantum effect. I wish I still had access to a quantum-powered tablet."

Scott gave a nod. Compared to digital tablets, enchanted tablets were worse in nearly every aspect. Instead of running on electricity and boolean logic, they utilized the quantum field that surrounded New Terra. As it still was barely understood, enchanted tablets were slow, had limited function, and couldn't access the internet.

Their advantages were few. Societies like Mollie's original one could claim it was not technological and part of nature. Despite that, it was technically not true. They also had the ability to utilize the quantum field in a limited way. Mollie probably meant the function to take pictures of an area and have a visual representation of the quantum field was actively manipulating anything.

"Are you sure you are fine?" Scott asked. Worry crept into his voice. "Magic is known to be unpredictable and it could possibly affect your mind."

After a moment of thinking, Mollie grew worried too. "The corset could be crushing my waist and the quantum field is just suppressing my pain? I hope not. Let's get me out of it."

Scott did his best to undo the lacing quickly. As soon as there was a finger-wide gap, Mollie let out a gasp. Scott was about to ask when he saw the cause for Mollie's surprise himself. She had been able to undo the clasps in the front of the corset and it came apart as intended. However, the skin revealed beneath was without blemish. No bruises or signs of crushing could be seen. Instead, Mollie now had an altered physique with an impossibly narrow waist. It now looked like she had been born with an exaggerated hourglass figure.

"That is amazing!" Mollie exclaimed. "Simply miraculous."

"I am not sure I like that." Scott's facial expression turned more and more worried. "Is that permanent? What about your organs? Where did they go?"

"Everything alright in there?"

The sudden voice made them both jump in shock.

Mollie was the first to find her voice. "Yes. We'll be out soon."

"Ah, no hurry, darling." It must be the store's clerk that had surprised them. "If anything is too tight or too wide, there is a tailor down the street that can do alterations."

"No, all good," Mollie spoke up.

"I am not sure that is true," Scott whispered to her.

"No need to panic yet," Mollie whispered and then went for her original bra and top. Fully dressed, she held up the corset to exercise it closer. "I wouldn't have thought we'd stumble upon an enchanted garment here. Much less so a corset. I wonder how it got here. Maybe we can take it with us?"

Scott was more hesitant. This thing just had altered his fiancé. Maybe permanently. There was no telling what consequences would come out of it. He needed a way to dissuade Mollie from clinging to it. Thankfully, he spied just what he needed.

"Tag says it is seventy dollars," he said and held it up so Mollie could see it too. "That's more than all our other purchases combined."

Mollie might as well have bitten on a lemon. "That's enough to last us two or three weeks in groceries." Dejected, she pulled open the curtain of the changing booth and stepped out. "I really wish we could splurge on this."

"That old thing?"

Once again, they both were surprised by the clerk nearby. Filling up a few racks nearby. Mollie was startled enough to stumble backwards and Scott was quick enough to steady her with a hand to her backside. Of course, it reminded him of her altered physique underneath her now very loose top.

"It's been on the rack before I even started here," the clerk conversationally added as she walked over. "Told the owner we have to lower the price, but he doesn't want to go lower than seventy." She looked contemplative for a moment and then pointed down on the shopping back with their intended purchases. "You appear a bit tight on money. How much worth you got in there?"

"We can afford it," Mollie blurt out. Still, the clerk looked expectedly at her. Eventually, Mollie carved in. "About sixty-two dollars worth."

"Sixty-two. The corset is seventy. Hundred and thirty-two total." The clerk nodded and gave them a smile. "Tell you what. We had a large delivery of donated clothing from the region out in the back. Sorting through it is a pain, but maybe you want to give it a try. For both of you, it should take maybe five hours. Give or take. Instead of money, I can offer you those clothes and the corset too. What'ya say?"

Mollie turned to him. Looking expectedly. He was half-minded to reject the offer. It would be a nice way to get distance from a garment some might say was cursed. But even without the corset, the offer was a nice break. They could get their outfits and save money.

"Thank you for the offer," Scott spoke up. "We will gladly accept."

"Good. Good." The clerk beamed at them. "Saves me the trouble of making a sign for freelancers. Come on. Follow me to the backrooms."

As Scott and Mollie followed, Mollie let out a sudden yelp. Starling Scott. "What is it?"

Instead of answering immediately, Mollie took his hand and placed it on her waist. "It returned to normal," she whispered.

Scott let out a sigh. He had been more worried than he had let on, but it appeared the effect of the corset was temporary. It didn't even last that long. Maybe a couple of minutes.

---

"Today was a great day!" Mollie exclaimed as they roasted a little marinated rabbit meat on a skewer.

Scott gave a perfunctory nod but stayed quiet. It had taken them closer to six hours to sift and sort through the clothes in the backroom. As compensation, the clerk threw in an extra pair of jeans for each of them. They arrived at the camping site in the late afternoon. For once, the battery of their van was not on its last leg. It had plenty of time to recharge in the parking lot.

Normally, they both would forage in the nearby woods, but that duty today fell squarely upon Scott. He managed to hunt a rabbit, but his gathering skills still lacked compared to Mollie.

"Uhh, it is nearly time!" Mollie put the skewer aside and pulled out her digital tablet. Scott could see a countdown that was close to zero by a few seconds.

Mollie pulled up her top to give them both a look at her magically altered waist. Nothing happened as the countdown finished. At least for a few seconds. Then, her shrunk waist slowly expanded to the normal circumference.

"I knew it!" Mollie exclaimed with a big smile. "The duration of the effect last three times the duration of the corset worn. Fifteen minutes of wearing the corset amount to forty-five minutes before it reverts."

"So, your curiosity is satisfied?" Scott asked.

"For now," Mollie confirmed. "I am curious if there is a maximum duration for the lasting effect. But that's for another day to find out." She spotted Scott giving a relieved sigh and she had to ask: "What?"

"It's-" Scott reached out and took Mollie's hand in his own. "I am glad that you enjoying yourself. But I am a little bit worried. In my eyes, you are perfect as you are. I can understand if you want to experiment and maybe reduce your waist a little. Don't be mad, but if you do it all the way, that creeps me out a bit. It doesn't look natural anymore."

"So, you prefer me like this?" Mollie scooted closer. "Perfect as I am now?" She leaned over and rewarded him with a kiss. "How could I be mad at you when you are all sweet like this? Don't worry. Having such a small waist might be a good party trick, but I am not keen to always run around like this."

"Good. I am glad." Scott stole another kiss that was given freely nonetheless. Then, he noticed a glance from Mollie that lasted a little too long. "Mollie. I know what you are up to." As she gave him a little overdone innocent look, Scott had to put down his foot. "I am not wearing the corset."

"Aww, come on," Mollie whined. "I've got to know if it works on a man. Please. Just for a minute. For me?"

Scott stared at those big eyes and knew he was on losing ground. "You are gonna give me those puppy eyes until I say yes, don't you?"

"What puppy eyes?" Mollie asked with the faintest hint of a smirk and then ramped up her game by giving him the most innocent look she could muster. "But I would really like to find out. Pretty please?"

"Fine," Scott relented in a moment of weakness but quickly recovered to set some boundaries. "But not for long. If it works I don't wanna run around with such a narrow waist for hours. And not too tight."

"I swear I won't," Mollie promised while grabbing the corset. Giving Scott a predatory look. "Lose the shirt."

"You are enjoying this way too much," Scott complained as he pulled his shirt over his head.

He lifted his arms so Mollie could place the corset around his waist. On Mollie, the corset reached from her hips up to her breasts. Giving them a little lift with their cups. On Scott, it appeared slightly too small in length. Not quite reaching to his hips and only barely covering his nipples.

"You know," Scott mused as Mollie closed the clasps on the front of the corset. "I don't think this shade of pink is my color."

"Hmm, I don't know. I could get used to it." Then, Mollie had the corset ready to go. "I'll start slowly."

Scott felt the corset tightened around him. First eating up all the space between the fabric and his skin. Then, he felt it tightening around him. There was pressure around his waist, but Mollie indeed took it slow. And the pressure gradually vaned, until Scott couldn't feel it anymore. At least, until Mollie pulled on the strings again.

"I think that is enough," Scott remarked as he guessed the corset made two or three inches of his waist circumference vanish. "It is working."

"Uhm." The sound from Mollie wasn't promising of good things and the corset still tightened. "Don't freak out, Scott, but we have a problem."

"What problem?" he asked worriedly. Turning around to face Mollie. She stared at him with her hands placed in her lap. Still, the corset continued to tighten up. "Wait. It's closing by itself? How do we make it stop?"

"I don't know," Mollie admitted. "Maybe when it closes completely? It never did that when I wore it. Don't panic. I am sure it will turn out fine."

"Easy for you to say!" Scott's breathing got shallower despite that he could breathe just fine. The magic of the corset was still adjusting his waist. Scott fought to stay calm. Whatever the magic of the corset did, it had been temporary on Mollie. There was no reason to think it would be different for him. He turned so his back was to Mollie again. "How much more?"

"Two inches. One. It's closed." Scott could feel Mollie's hands on his now tiny waist. "Oh my gosh. It worked. Your waist is so small. I can span it with my hands."

"How about you get it off?" Scott's voice gained a little panicked edge to it. But before Mollie could react, he saw that it wouldn't be easy. Both loops of the corset's string started to move like snakes. Circling the waist twice and then staying behind his back.

"It's making a knot," Mollie reported. "It stopped moving. Hold on. I try to undo it."

Unable to help, Scott looked down. Hoping to find anything that might give a clue how to escape his fate. What he noticed was worse than he had thought.

"I don't think the corset is done yet!" This time, Scott's voice definitely had risen in pitch. "Mollie, I think I am growing breasts."

"What?" Scott could feel that Mollie stopped fiddling with the knot for a moment. "Your hair is growing too."

"And my pants are getting tighter," Scott added before standing up and shrugging out of the garment. Thankfully not many other people stayed at their current camping place and they had parked some distance away.

"You are definitely turning into a woman," Mollie remarked. It was entirely unnecessary to voice out loud. Not that Scott pointed it out.

"Mollie. I am freaking out here." Scott didn't even sound himself anymore. Even if one discounted the rising panic in his voice. "Tell me this is temporary. That we can reverse it."

"It is!" Mollie hunted for things to say and as she thought about it, a few things fell into place. "Think about it, Scott. This is not random magic. What we perceive as magic is actually a manipulation of the quantum field that surrounds New Terra. It is based on logic." The slow nods from Scott turned a little more eager and Mollie ventured on. "Let's say the purpose of the corset is to change someone into a woman and keep them as such for three times as a woman. Well, for me, I already was a woman. So, it probably didn't have to do a lot of work."

"But it does for me," Scott concluded out loud. "Had more work. I think I am finished."

"Maybe now I can open the corset," she pointed out and made Scott spin around so she could try again. "The knot. I still can't undo it."

Scott looked down. The damage was done. His silhouette was completely female. And, of course, his sex had changed. But he tried not to panic. Mollie was right. There had to be a logic behind it.

"So, let's figure it out together," Scott said more calmly. "The knot has to come loose at some point, right? So, what prevents it from doing so now?"

"What is the purpose of the knot in the first place?" Mollie asked instead. "I bet it is to make sure that the transformation process isn't interrupted."

"But the process is done," Scott pointed out. Then, his eyes grew wide. "But it needs to make sure that I turn back, right? While not wearing the corset. So, it has to enchant me on some level."

"That makes sense," Mollie agreed. She hunted for her digital tablet and showed Scott that she started a countdown. "How long did it take you to transform? A minute? One and a half?"

"I wasn't really in the right state of mind to count seconds," Scott pointed out.

"Right. Let's say one and a half. Plus us figuring out a theory. Say three minutes. Plus whatever it now takes. This, times three, should be the duration it takes before you return to normal." Mollie went for the knot again. "Now, I have to keep trying to undo the strings."

"Just a waiting game," Scott assured himself. Granted, being a woman didn't feel that bad. Most of the sensations that were unfamiliar to him, he could blend out. It was the enormity of a possible permanent change that freaked him out. He was happy being a guy. It felt comfortable. Not to mention that Mollie had fallen in love with a guy. Not a girl. Staying a woman might mean that he would lose what he cherished the most in his life. He couldn't imagine a world without her anymore.

"Got it!" Mollie exclaimed and Scott could see the strings around the waist loosen. Then they vanished from view as Mollie started to undo the backside of the corset. "What does the timer say, Scott?"

"Two minutes and thirty seconds," he replied automatically. Then, Scott made some mental calculations. "The knot stayed in place for five to five and a half minutes." He reset the timer to see if his next guess would pan out. "That means in about a quarter-hour I should turn back. Maybe a little longer."

He felt the corset loosen and then come off his skin. A second later, Mollie reached from behind and undid the clasps in the front. "There. Got you free. Now it is just a waiting game."

"Quarter-hour. Nothing to it," he agreed. Half of humanity lived their lives as women. Surely he could stomach a quarter-hour. Provided he turned back, there was nothing to panic about. Now, he even was a bit curious. Stalking over to the passenger side of the van to look into the mirror. "I definitely see a resemblance to my old self. Like a sister."

"Let me see," Mollie demanded and then got a good look while they both were calm. "Yeah, that's still your face. Just softer." An unexpected giggle escaped her. "Kinda cute."

That got a blush out of Scott. "Stop teasing. This is weird as it is."

"I mean it," Mollie insisted. Then she quirked her head. Critically examining Scott. "You are right. From this perspective, that waist is way too small. I see now why it freaked you out a bit. But something is strange." She pulled off her own top and walked over to Scott. Standing side by side next to him. "I think we are the same size up top."

Looking back and forth, Scott had to agree. They looked eerily similar. Just that his own skin looked a bit more pale in comparison.

"Maybe it copied your measurements to me?" he guessed.

"Only one way to find out." Mollie ducked into the van and grabbed her small portable sewing kit. Within, she had a small measuring tape. She slung it around herself in a way that it came to rest right over her breasts. Hiding her nipples. "Seventy-eight centimeters. Now you."

The tape was slightly cold and made Scott jerk in surprise as it hit his sensitive nipples. Had they always been this sensitive or was the feeling now heightened? Scott couldn't really tell.

"Seventy-eight too. There might be some weight to your theory." Mollie crouched down to go for the next measurement. "I guess we can skip the waist. Hips are eighty-two. And for me. Eighty-two as well. I think we could share outfits like this. Even underwear."

"Or how about-" Scott glanced at the timer. "We wait five more minutes and hopefully I turn back. Then we can leave this whole ordeal behind."

"Sorry." Mollie suddenly appeared unsure. "You aren't mad at me? Because of this."

"It's fine," Scott assured her. "I don't think you expected this outcome any more than I did. It just shows that knew has to be careful with unidentified magical objects. Maybe we should have visited an expert first and had it identified."

Mollie stepped closer. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't." Scott drew her into a hug. Only to be reminded of how strange the situation was. He was used to having Mollie's breasts pushed against his chest. But now, he had something to push back.

A few minutes passed in silence. Both waited with bated breath. Then, Scott felt something shift. "I think I am turning back." His breasts definitely were deflating. Slowly melting away and evening out to his normal flat chest. His hips rend down too, while his waist expanded. There were a lot of changes happening at once and Scott couldn't track them all. When he thought it had finished, he asked: "All done? Am I back to normal?"

"You are back to the Scott that I know and love," Mollie confirmed.

"I love you too." They shared another deep hug that lasted a long time.

As they parted, Mollie picked up the corset. "Let me put that away."

For a moment, Scott considered telling her to throw it into their bonfire, but he thought better of it. It was magical, after all. And while he wasn't into the intended effect, someone else might be. Maybe they could research on the internet if someone was interested in buying it. Provided Mollie was willing to let it go.

With everything returned to normal, they started to get dressed. The night had settled and too far away from their bonfire, the temperatures turned cold.

"You know," Mollie spoke up just when Scott had thought they had put the corset behind them. "I wonder who made this corset and why. Was it just an experiment or was it because someone wanted it?"

Scott gave a lazy shrug. "You said it is of the type Southern Belles wear, right? Maybe a mother lacked a daughter to pick up the faith. Hence a son had to take up the mantle. Well, corset."

"Can Can dancers too," Mollie added. "Maybe someone naughty wanted to infiltrate a dance troupe?"

Scott chuckled. "I guess we won't ever know. Unless you can find traces of this on the internet. Who knows how old this corset is. Magical items are rumored to be quite durable. It could be decades old."

"I'll put together a search algorithm," Mollie said as she grabbed her tablet. "If it is local, we might get fast results. But if it is older, it might have traveled far. Maybe even from another continent. Querying for information there could take the algorithm weeks if not months."

"Guess we have to wait and see," Scott said before returning to his own skewer of grilled rabbit. By now, it was cold. Nothing their fire couldn't change.

---

"Scott. Look. There." Mollie had put her fanning on the passenger seat on pause and pointed to the side of the road.

He swiped away some sweat before acknowledging it. "What is it," he asked. Unwilling to take his eyes off the road.

"There was a sign for a public beach." Mollie was quite excited.

Scott could relate. It was still in the middle of spring, but a heat wave had hit the region. Boosting temperatures to high summer levels. He glanced at the battery "Well, we have to stop soon anyway. Is it nearby?"

With Mollie's direction, they found it not five minutes later. The public beach had a rather makeshift parking lot and most spots had been taken up.

"I guess we aren't the only ones with the same idea," Scott remarked as they both changed into their swimwear in the back of their van. "The parking lot is rather full."

"And it isn't even noon yet," Mollie added with a sigh. "Hopefully the beach is big enough."

Following a dirt path through woods, they heard the beach well before they saw it. Screams of playing children and half a dozen different types of music blended into a cacophony of sound. Then, they arrived at the beach. The view was even worse than they had imagined.

"I guess most came on foot," Scott remarked as his view roamed over the tightly packed beach.

"Let's see if we can find a spot?" Even to herself, Mollie sounded skeptical. "Maybe we get lucky."

They walked the beach for nearly a quarter-hour when Mollie pulled Scott to a space that was just being vacated. It was right between two big families, but that couldn't be helped.

After placing a big blanket and towels down, both could finally head into the water. The cool water made it worth it to share it with hundreds of others. Still, they had to be careful. It was easy to bump into others.

It only took Mollie five minutes to head back to their blanket. Quickly followed by Scott. "There are so many here," she complained. "I am not used to it. Is this normal?"

"Not really." Scott took another glance at the masses of people they shared the beach with. Mollie came from a rural area with a low population density. But even Scott wasn't used to having so many people around. "It's probably more than usual as people try to make use of the heat wave."

They tried to catch a few rays of the sun when a nearby discussion drew their attention.

"Told you we should have gone to Bunny Beach," a teenage girl complained to her mother. "I bet it isn't as overrun as this one."

"You know that this isn't an option anymore." The mother sounded rather tired of that argument. "Your brother is too old to get in."

"Excuse me," Mollie butted in before Scott could dissuade her from the notion. "What's that Bunny Beach? Is it far from here?"

"You must not be from around here. It's a little further down the lakefront. It's a private beach with an entry fee." The mother leaned over so she could see past Mollie. "Is that your boyfriend? For you, Bunny Beach would be an option, but he won't get in."

Now, Scott's curiosity was caught. "Why not?"

"They let only girls and women in," the teenager quipped up before giving her younger brother a venomous look.

"Kaylee!" The mother gave a tired shake of her head before turning to Scott and Mollie. "It used to be some kind of themed private beach. Then the owner changed and rebranded it. Now they won't let any males in except boys ten and under. And since my Cody turned eleven this year we have to make do with this public beach." She turned toward her daughter. "No matter how much someone might complain."

"Uhh, Scott." Mollie turned around all excited and Scott got a bad feeling. "We totally can sneak in there with no one the wiser."

"Others have tried," Kaylee pointed out. "Once, the Mitchell twins tried to dress up. For a beach. It ended in disaster."

Scott ignored the ramblings of the teen and tried to resist those large puppy eyes Mollie gave him. He needed something to fight back. Luckily, it wasn't that hard to come up with something. "Think about it, Mollie. It is probably expensive. A private beach you have to pay for to get in."

"It's like ten bucks," Kaylee chipped in.

"Just ten bucks," Mollie repeated. Ignoring the fact that combined for them twenty dollars wasn't an insubstantial amount.

"It is so much better there," Kaylee continued. Scott was sorely tempted to go over and strangle her. She didn't know what Mollie had in mind of how to smuggle Scott into Bunny Beach. "They have water slides there and the sand is so much softer. Not full of gravel and sticks."

"I've never been on a water slide!" Mollie appeared so excited that Scott knew he was losing ground.

"Think about the logistics," he calmly reminded her. "Let's say we go there until seven or eight in the evening. That means we can't get in right away. About a fourth between now and then I need for - you know - preparations."

"You really are trying?" Kaylee asked. "But they will bust you!"

"Kaylee!" her mother spoke up. "Don't bother them too much."

Mollie stood up. "Oh, no worries. With a pinch of magic, I am sure we will manage." Scott couldn't see, but he was sure Mollie gave a wink. Then her attention returned to Scott. "Come on. Pretty please."

A groan escaped Scott. He should have burned that corset. "Never say I don't do anything for you," he said as he stood up as well. Quickly and efficiently gathering their things.

"You would do anything for me." The statement by Mollie sounded oddly sad. "I don't deserve you."

"Hey." Scott was quick to rush over and gently make Mollie face him. "That's your mother talking. I am the lucky one to have you. We both deserve each other."

Mollie couldn't help herself and drew in Scott for a sweet long kiss. It turned into a hug they both needed. It was Mollie who broke it as a giggle escaped her. "She never could decide, did she? Sometimes it was me, not good enough for a guy like you. Other times you weren't good enough for me."

"Come on," Scott gently urged her. "There is a beach we have to sneak into."

"And a corset to get onto you," Mollie added with a mischievous smile. Eliciting a groan from Scott.

---

"This private beach better be worth it," Scott groaned from the back of the van. Laying there to endure the heat better.

"Oh, it already is worth it," Mollie fibbed from the passenger seat.

Scott raised his head and glared at her past his breasts. He was a woman again. Thanks to that cursed corset. Now, he had to build up time so they could snug into the beach and stay the whole time without him turning back.

"Well, it is not you who has to endure a tight restricting garment that is so thick it makes you sweat like crazy," Scott pointed out. The layers of the corset weren't very good at cooling a person down. Making Scott think he was in a small sauna from hips to breasts.

"Just a few more minutes," Mollie pointed out. Then a mischievous grin appeared as she added: "Charlotte."

Scott propped himself up on both elbows to get a better look at Mollie. "What? Charlotte?"

"Well, I can't call you Scott when we infiltrate the beach like International spies. And I decided your codename will be Charlotte."

Scott groaned as he sank back down. Somehow, he knew the name would haunt him for a while. "But why Charlotte?"

Mollie shrugged. "Have you tried finding a female version of Scott? And Charlotte is at least similar."

"Similar?" Scott gave her a doubtful look. "It shares an O and two Ts. That's it."

"That's sixty percent of your name. Get used to it. Charlotte fits." Of course, Mollie knew him well enough to let him have some victory. "At least your theory panned out."

Scott glanced at his waist. It had. As he reminded Mollie often enough, magic wasn't as arcane as most people made it out to be. It was based on the quantum field that surrounded New Terra. Sure, intuitive interactions with it could be unpredictable, but enchantments - like this corset - usually displayed logic that made the computational nature of magic obvious.

He had pointed out that the corset appears to copy the figure onto a man of the last woman that had worn it. As Mollie had worn it before him all the way closed, the corset mimicked it once Scott wore it. Resulting in an equally reduced waist. Today, he had suggested that Mollie would wear it before him with a barely reduced waist. As theorized, once Scott wore it again, the corset barely shrunk before tying itself off.

"How much longer?" Scott asked.

Mollie glanced at her digital tablet. "Oh, we are done. Finally. Time to get ready."

Scott swallowed. He wasn't really looking forward to it. Mollie had convinced him to wear the corset for three hours. As it was now two in the afternoon, it would be well into the evening when he turned back after roughly nine hours.

Mollie moved behind him and undid the knot of the corset. Then helped him slip out of it. Next came a tiny bikini top for him to wear. Matching the bottoms he already wore beneath.

"You really don't have anything bigger?" Scott ask knowing full well that Mollie had only two sets of bikinis. "Feeling really exposed here."

Mollie gave a sharp laugh until she could stifle it. "I thought you liked this one. You always compliment me when I wear it."

"Because it is you who wears it." Someone probably could have said it in a sweet and respectful way to earn major brownie points. Scott managed a whine that could befit a teenager.

"You'll get used to it," Mollie promised. Tying a sarong around his waist. "Now, let's grab our towels and get going. I wanna go swimming and try a water slide."

Scott gave an amused shake of his head. Mollie definitely had her priorities straight. They left their van behind in a parking lot that wasn't even filled up to a third of its maximum. Finding Bunny Beach hadn't been hard. Signs pointed to it and they only had to circumvent a quarter of the large lake.

Now they followed a path that was actually paved. With each step, Scott felt more and more exposed. Mollie had lent him flip-flops and a bikini. Mollie wore a bikini too, but hers had a little more fabric. The half-transparent sarong didn't make it much better for him.

"Act normally," Mollie whispered.

"Easier said than done," Scott muttered under his breath. "I haven't been a woman for even a half day."

"Welcome to Bunny Beach," a bright-eyed older teen greeted them at the ticket booth. Probably earning a little extra. What threw both of them off was that the girl had bunny ears that looked remarkably lifelike. "First time here?"

Mollie was the first to find her voice. "Yes, we are. I am Mollie and this is Charlotte."

Scott nearly groaned. Who introduces themselves with their name at a ticket booth? That's got to be highly suspicious. Then, Scott chided himself. It was Mollie after all. She got better at living in more densely populated areas, but now and then her rural upbringing peeked through. Or she was just as nervous as Scott was. That could be a possibility too.

"A pleasure. I'm Becky." She gave them a short curtsy. "The fee is ten bucks a person. Five for children. No men allowed. Boys only at ten or younger. Obviously, that is not a problem for you two. Enjoy the water until nightfall. For legal reasons, we can't guarantee safety in darkness, so Bunny Beach asks you kindly to adhere to this rule. Bunny Beach closes at midnight."

"Midnight?" Scott couldn't help but ask. "What does one do at a beach until midnight when swimming is prohibited?"

"Good question." Becky gave them a bright, cheerful smile. "In the evening, we light braziers and bonfires for a very cozy atmosphere. We also have a bar with a good selection of drinks and a limited dinner service."

Mollie and Scott exchanged a glance. He could guess what she was thinking. His transformation should last to enjoy a little bit of the evening, but it wouldn't last until midnight. He doubted they would stay that long. They were here for swimming and enjoying the fun.

Since Scott wasn't used to wearing a purse, it was Mollie who withdrew the twenty dollars for both of them. It was a colorful assortment of half a dozen countries. All naming their currency some variation of "dollar". For the most part, people just equated them one to one. Of course, there were market trends and some currency was worth a little more and another a little less. But the difference wasn't big enough to really make a profit out of. So, people simply didn't care.

"One last thing before you enter." Becky waved them closer. Intrigued, Mollie and Scott leaned closer. Only to get promptly a headband with bunny ears placed on their head. "At Bunny Beach, we all are beach bunnies."

That elicited a giggle from Mollie and got Scott curious. "That's a rather strange theme for a beach, isn't it?"

"Oh, it was stranger," Becky assured them. "This used to be a water park around the old classic Alice In Wonderland. It was open to everyone and had the gimmick that magical items were handed out that caused small temporary transformations based on different characters in the book. Over time, the bunny girl transformation became the clear favorite. Then there was some ugly business and the water park was sold. The new owner rebranded it to cater to the clear favorite and banned men to avoid another incident."

"Do you still use magic items?" Mollie asked before Scott could.

Becky giggled and then wiggled with one of her bunny ears. It looked surprisingly realistic. "Let us know if you have trouble with the tails. Sometimes it interferes with swimsuits or bikini bottoms. We have free clean rentals for those cases."

"Tails?"

As Mollie twisted to look at her behind, Scott spotted a small fluffy tail right on her tailbone. Reaching behind, Scott could feel one too. How had he not noticed before? A little hesitant, he reached up and found bunny ears made out of flesh and blood.

"This beach is the best thing ever!" Mollie exclaimed. "Come on, Sc- Charlotte." Scott was grabbed and dragged by her five meters before she turned around and gave Becky a quick: "Thanks!"

"Have fun!"

The shout was barely heard by them as Mollie already had dragged them halfway to the beach.

"Mollie. Hold on," Scott spoke up, but Mollie was too eager to stop. "The enchantment."

"Isn't it neat?" Mollie marched onto the sand as if she was on a conquest. "Look at it. Even the sand is nicer around here. Not as grey and riddled with wooden debris."

"Mollie," Scott tried again as she had found a spot and grabbed for the blanket that he carried. "The ears and tail. What if they interfere with- You know what."

"Oh, the corset?" Mollie's eyes grew wide, but not for long. "I am sure it is fine," she said as she threw the blanket out onto the sand. "Magical items probably have safety measures that prevent complications. Surely an establishment has taken this into account when deciding to hand out these ears."

Scott wasn't fully convinced, but gave a half-hearted: "I guess."

"Come on." Molly took his hand. "Relax. We earned this."

Scott had just about enough time to give a nod before Mollie dragged him to the water.

---

Charlotte took a long sip of her virgin cocktail, before looking for Mollie. Her girlfriend took a last swim for the day. The lifeguards had informed them that the sun was setting soon. Charlotte could hardly believe how fast the day had passed.

First, she had been dragged into the water by Mollie. It sure felt nice to have the water cool them off after the hot last few days. After the third time, Charlotte even got used to swimming as a woman. Not that swimming itself was different. The water just flowed around her body in an unfamiliar way.

Between swims, there were plenty of other activities. Mollie had dragged them two times into an impromptu match of beach volleyball against other women and one long game of table tennis. But by far, Charlotte liked the most to laze in the sun or on one of the lounge chairs that were scattered around. Now and then sipping on a virgin cocktail that was surprisingly cheap.

Of course, to get there, Charlotte first had to quiet that nagging voice in her head that reminded her that she was supposed to be Scott. A man and not a woman. But in time, she managed to blend it out. Today, she was Charlotte. That's what everyone around here called her. This was her first real vacation day since she had eloped with Mollie. And in a way, she was taking a vacation from being Scott as well. In just a few hours, the transformation would end. Scott could wait until then.

As Mollie got out of the water, Charlotte felt butterflies in her belly. She was quite happy to experience this familiar feeling. Man or woman, she loved Mollie. There was also a flash of warmth spreading through her that she wasn't used to yet.

Instead of going for the towel, Mollie struck a pose as she noticed Charlotte watching. "Hello, gorgeous. Are you all alone here? That's a shame. Mind if I keep you company?"

Charlotte gave a chuckle. "I think you need to work on your one-liners."

Mollie gave her a raspberry and then went for her towel. "Oh, as if you are any better. What was it? 'Don't read History Of Old Earth by Professor C. Beckstein because it is boring as heck.'"

Charlotte couldn't help but chuckle as her memories went back. It was about a year ago when she had approached - as Scott - an unsuspecting Mollie. It had been at his local library and he had spied Mollie with a book that might have weighed as much as half of her.

"In all fairness, that book is boring," Charlotte shot back.

"True." Mollie stopped rubbing herself off. "Done with sunbathing and being lazy?"

"Sure. Done with swimming and being a tease?"

"Yes to the first and never for the second!" Mollie stood up and offered a hand. "Come on. I want to check out the bar. One of the girls mentioned that they fire up a BBQ in the evening and I am starving."

More expenses, but Charlotte wasn't too worried. So far the drinks they had weren't that expensive. Not to mention that Charlotte had way more cocktails than Mollie had iced teas. So far, the day had cost them slightly over thirty dollars. By day's end, she hoped they would stay under fifty.

They weren't the only ones making their way to the bar and the few tables arranged around braziers. Most of Bunny Beach's patrons had left, but Charlotte saw a good two dozen bunny girls in bikinis and swimsuits catered to by just a handful of official bunny girls.

Mollie steered them to a single table and that was just fine with Charlotte. They had met quite a few people here, some even present in the evening crowd, but she wanted to spend the evening just in the company of Mollie.

They didn't talk much. Now and then going for a skewer of grilled meat, cheese, and vegetables. When they weren't eating they cuddled close to the fire and each other and looked out to the water. At some point, an employee of Bunny Beach had released a few floating lanterns that gently illuminated the beachfront.

"Rather romantic, isn't it?" Mollie mused aloud.

"It is." Charlotte gave a sigh. "If only I could be here with you as Scott."

Mollie took one of Charlotte's hands in her own. "I don't mind," she whispered, before leaning over.

It was a sweet kiss and Charlotte savored it to the end. As they broke, she was a little short of breath. Still, a thought was on her mind. "I didn't know you liked girls too."

For a moment, Mollie looked at her bemused. Then her gaze shifted to the fire. Charlotte knew that look. Mollie was deep in thought. Had she said something wrong? Assume too much?

"I am not sure," Mollie eventually spoke up. "Do you remember those movies we watched just after running away together? Those classic ones with sleepovers and girls experimenting. I never had that. In our community, things like that were frowned upon and I doubt anyone another girl would have agreed to experiment with me." Mollie gave a sad shake of her head. "It didn't even occur to me that it was a possibility until later."

Mollie sought Charlotte's eyes with unspent tears glittering in her own. "I don't know. But when I look at you, I see not just you as Charlotte. I see the Scott that I know and love behind your eyes. In the lines of your face. The gentle soul that I have fallen in love with is right there."

Charlotte was overwhelmed with feelings. She didn't trust her voice, so she pulled Mollie into a tight hug. Arm in arm, they enjoyed the warmth of the fire and their own.

It must have been around five minutes when one of the waitresses approached them. "Sorry for the disturbance." She honestly looked reluctant to disturb the two lovebirds. "Management sent me. They would like to point out that your enchantment is running out in a few minutes."

"The ears?" Charlotte reached up with her hand to feel them. Most of the time she even had forgotten about them and the tail.

"Oh, no. Those last until taken off by the staff." The waitress looked left and right if she could be overheard, then leaned in closer. "The one that makes you female."

Charlotte gasped and Mollie voiced out their surprise. "You knew?"

"Of course. You aren't the first one to sneak in like that." The waitress gave a shrug. "Technically sneaking is the wrong word. The owner and management tolerate it. They just ask that you don't turn back while on the premises."

"We will make our exit," Charlotte promised.

Arm in arm, they made their way out of Bunny Beach. At the ticket booth, the clerk reached up and plucked the bunny ears off their heads. How, was beyond Charlotte. Not that she minded.

"Guess I got us kicked out after all," Charlotte joked.

"It still was nice. I wish we could be here every day."

"Well, I know we are saving up, but we could easily afford two or three more days."

"Really? You'd be Charlotte for me again?" As Charlotte nodded, Mollie drew her into a kiss. This one was more passionate. When they parted, a devious little smile overcame Mollie. "I like you as Charlotte, but to be honest, I am very glad that you'll be returning to Scott in a few moments. I can hardly wait."

Chuckling, both got a spring to their step as they made for their van.

---

Scott's heart was beating a mile a minute. For the seventh time, he checked his suit. It wasn't the most comfortable as it was made entirely out of natural fibers and materials. It still looked new and hinted that this wasn't his usual getup. The buggy ride with horses wasn't his wheelhouse either, but he made do.

Nervously, he glanced at the bouquet. Locally grown flowers and framed in a not quite white paper. He hoped Mollie would like them. A little hesitant, he walked up to the front door. He was just about to knock when he heard shouting from within. Scott could make out Mollie's voice and a few others. That must be her family. They were fighting again. Not an auspicious moment to introduce himself.

Mollie's voice grew louder and suddenly, the door was yanked open. Whatever Mollie was about to shout died as she saw Scott standing before her. All prim and proper. Having made a real effort to adapt to her folks' customs. Mollie was his stark contrast. She had dressed up in a nice summer dress that was now halfway drenched in some kind of fluid. Some kind of dirt was scattered through the wet patch that Scott couldn't identify. This was the first time that Scott saw her wearing makeup. It was in ruins. The lipstick was smudged and the eyeliner left trails as tears rolled down her cheek.

What made his blood boil in an instant was the red mark of a handprint. A slap that must have happened recently. He was about to head in and give her folks his take on things when Mollie stepped out and grabbed him.

"Don't. Please. Let's just go."

Grabbing her hand, they ran. His only thought was to take her away. Far away. Until they faded away.

Scott woke up with a start a moment later. He needed some time to gather his thoughts. This wasn't the night he first tried to introduce himself to Mollie's parents. It had ended in disaster before it had even started. Up to that point, he had respected the way of living that Mollie's family preferred. From that moment on, he had always felt at odds with them.

What infatuated him even to this day was that Mollie hadn't even worn real makeup. She had stained her lips red with a local berry that was often used to dye fabric. The eyeliner had been normal charcoal that she had very carefully pressed and then applied. It had been the bare minimum in almost any society. Yet her mother had called her the nastiest things.

Scott looked at the sleeping Mollie beside him. She deserved better and he had vowed to support her in every way possible. Since that day, Mollie hadn't experimented with makeup again. Not even since they had run away. He knew she was interested, but something was holding her back.

Determination filled Scott and he picked up their shared digital tablet. A short search on the local part of the internet revealed that what he needed was available to them close by.

The next part of his plan was a bit more difficult. Quiet as he could, Scott rummaged in Mollie's clothes. Fishing out the corset. It's been a month since they had been at Bunny Beach. Since the last time that he had been Charlotte.

He couldn't help, but look underneath his shirt. The tan lines had nearly disappeared. Waking up the first morning after Bunny Beach revealed a mortifying little detail that had Mollie in stitches with laughter. Scott retained the tan lines Charlotte had acquired the day before. The matter wasn't helped by the fact that they had stayed at Bunny Beach for three more days. Then, their little vacation got a little too expensive.

Scott glanced out and judged the day would unfold like the day before. Warm, but not hot. Mollie had worn summer dresses the last few days. Scott picked up one of hers at random and hoped she wouldn't mind. Especially with the surprise he planned. The next step was to wear the corset. By now, he knew how to slip into it. Just a light tug on the loops of string on the backside and the corset tightened up by itself. Then knotting the string to prevent premature opening. The change to become Charlotte didn't take long.

Charlotte's first step was to don Mollie's dress. Thankfully the corset copied the exact measurements so that they could share clothes. Then, Charlotte grabbed the tablet and stepped outside the van. Making a quick call. Being relieved that the business she called had already someone available to pick up. With this important step done, Charlotte slipped back in and made herself comfortable on the passenger seat. Researching what she had in mind a little more.

"Charlotte?" The sleepy question by Mollie was asked about five minutes later. As Charlotte looked back, the groggy expression on Mollie's switched to one of mischief. "Is my teasing finally getting through?"

Over the last month, Mollie had needled Scott now and then to become Charlotte again. Only light-hearted and never insistent. Scott took it in stride. He could guess why. Mollie hadn't any friends back home. She was the loner. The rebel. The odd one out. She never had a best friend to share things with. Scott guessed the days at Bunny Beach gave Mollie a taste of what it meant to have a female friend who could share activities with her. Today, Charlotte would make one of Mollie's dreams a reality. Even if Mollie might not know she had said dream.

"I have a surprise planned for you," Charlotte revealed. "One where you might prefer the company of Charlotte, rather than Scott."

"Doubtful. While I appreciate having you as Charlotte, you know that I am never tired of spending time with Scott." As Charlotte acknowledged it with a nod, Mollie pounced more excited on the real topic. "So, a surprise? What kind? Can I get a hint?"

"A hint?" Charlotte gave it some thought. She didn't want Mollie to guess the surprise, so she played it safe. "Well, the hint is this. I have to wear the corset for two more hours. Maybe three. We probably want to enjoy the fruits of my surprise."

"Three hours?" Mollie gave a pout. "Whatever it is, I can hardly wait."

In the end, Charlotte took Mollie for a walk in a city park that was close to the camping ground they stayed in. All the time dodging probing questions by Mollie. Normally, they would spend the morning foraging, but bending over was kind of hard for Charlotte. The corset was stiff and hindered such activities.

As the time in the corset came close to an end, Charlotte took Mollie back to the van and they hit the road. Their goal was close by.

"A mall?" Mollie asked as they drove onto the parking lot. "Are we going shopping? That will put a dent into our savings."

"Not shopping. Something else." Charlotte found a spot and parked the van before giving more explanation to Mollie. "Saving up is good, but we need to look out for ourselves. Now and then, we can spend a little on what makes us happy. And I think today's surprise might do that for you. But first, I need to get out of the corset. I don't want to be stuck as Charlotte for days." That earned her a chuckle from Mollie and Charlotte decided to reveal a little more. "You might want to change outfits too. Maybe your favorite dress?"

"You've got me all wound up with anticipation," Mollie grumbled, but Charlotte could see that she was playing. With a lot more anticipation, she changed. Then helped Charlotte to dress up too. This was a first for Charlotte as her previous experience was limited to just a swimsuit. "Yes, a bra too. You aren't going freestyle."

Ten minutes later, they both walked into the mall. Mollie was craning her neck to spot their goal, but Charlotte remained quiet. She could already see the target and subtly steered Mollie in that direction.

"We are here," Charlotte exclaimed as they stopped before a stationary store. Just as Mollie was about to protest, Charlotte turned her around one hundred and eighty degrees.

Mollie's eyes grew wide. "The wellness and beauty oasis," she read aloud. Then turned to Charlotte. "Are we doing a spa day?"

"That and more," Charlotte promised. Together, they walked in and bee-lined for the reception desk. "We have an appointment at twelve under Charlotte and Mollie."

"Ah, yes. The full treatment." The receptionist gave them a curtsy that was accented by the frilly dress she wore. Most of the fabric and lace were in black, but certain accents and a small apron were white. "My name is Robin and I will be your main caretaker. First, we start you off with a full-body massage. Once we've gotten you loosened up, we start in earnest. While receiving a facial, we will wash your hair and start on your nails. Then, as requested, we start a crash course for makeup that-"

"Makeup!" Mollie got flustered in seconds. "Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt you."

Robin gave her a forgiving smile, but it was Charlotte who spoke up while taking Mollie's hands. "Last night, I remembered the one date when you experimented with makeup for the first time. Only to earn disapproval from your mother. But she isn't here, Mollie. It's just us. I set this up because I think you are still curious, but if you don't-"

Charlotte was interrupted by Mollie too. Not with words. One moment, she looked up at Charlotte with big wide eyes. The next, she had jumped her and planted a needy kiss on her lips. This was so sudden that Charlotte lost her footing and they both crashed to the floor. Never breaking the kiss.

As their kiss finally broke, both gave a flustered "Sorry" to Robin. Then accepted the strangely dressed woman's help to get up.

"Please be not worried, Maîtresse Mollie and Maîtresse Charlotte. It is not the first time I witnessed such a display of affection." Once Mollie and Charlotte were upright again, Robin continued as if nothing strange had happened. "As I said, a basic course in makeup was requested. Then, a haircut and styling are next, before we apply makeup for an evening out."

"I can't wait to get started." Not just her kiss clued Charlotte in on how much Mollie wanted this. She looked like a kid in a candy store that was handed a hundred-dollar bill.

"Then, please follow me, Maîtresse." Robin gave another elegant curtsy before leading them deeper into the spa area.

Charlotte was a little bit out of her depth and remained quiet, but Mollie was too excited to do the same. "Can I ask you something? I don't want to be rude."

Robin half turned around mid-stride and gave a smile. "By all means, ask. We want you to feel at ease here."

"Your uniform." Mollie flustered. Making Charlotte chuckle quietly. "It's kind of strange. All that lace. Why do you wear it? That looks impractical."

"I am a French Maid," Robin simply replied. As no recognition was evident on Mollie's face, Robin had to ask: "You are not familiar with French Maids?"

Mollie shook her head and it fell to Charlotte to provide more information. "Mollie comes from a very conservative and sheltered community."

"Ah!" Robin acknowledged. Then opening a door to a massage parlor. Indicating for Mollie and Charlotte to enter. There already was a masseuse inside prepping two tables. After instructing them on how to get ready, Robin returned to the topic of French Maids. "I am sure you are familiar with the concept of Pop-Religions. Technically, French Maids count as it. Being a French Maid is the devotion to an ideology that puts helping others over the needs of oneself. We enable others to do their best by providing the best support and service we can give. While looking good - sexy even - doing so."

"I see," Mollie acknowledged while laying down on a massage table with only a towel as a cover. "Is that why you called us a mattress?"

Charlotte cringed, but Robin took it with humor and gave a chuckle. "I called you a Maîtresse. The French word for Mistress. We, French Maids, prefer French terms in our professional conduct. Many also adopt a French accent."

More questions eluded Mollie as the massage began. It felt so good that both of them took enjoyment above slaking their thirst for knowledge. While Charlotte was familiar with French Maids in general, she didn't know many details either. Her own curiosity wasn't enough to interrupt the heavenly feeling of tight muscles loosening up. She hoped that the end result would translate to Scott, once she turned back.

In the end, Charlotte felt like she was made out of pudding when she stood up from the massage table. Slipping into fluffy robes, Mollie echoed her own sentiment. "I feel like well-kneaded clay." Noticing the strange look by Charlotte, Mollie was quick to explain. "One of my aunts is into pottery. Before she can do anything, she has to knead the raw clay until it is pliable and soft."

"You aren't clay," Charlotte remarked. "Someone sculpted you already into perfect beauty."

"Oh, you." A flustered Mollie gave Charlotte a playful cuffing on the shoulder. "What comes now," she asked Robin to change topics.

"Next, we prepare your body for what is to come." Robin led them out to the hallway again and into a room close by. It was dominated by four reclining chairs that looked very comfortable. "May I see your hands?"

A little confused, Mollie showed her hands and was surprised as Robin took them and studied them from both sides. Charlotte was next. A resolute nod and Robin turned to one of her co-workers. "We need the bracelets."

"Bracelets?" Mollie asked before Charlotte could.

"Your hands show signs of hard work. Dirt is caught in your nail beds and the nails themselves are scuffed and chipped." The co-worker opened a small chest with gleaming bronze bracelets inside. Robin took two and placed one each on Mollie's wrist. She repeated it for Charlotte. "These will help grow your nails at an increased pace. It will push out the dirt and give us fresh healthy nails to work with. Have you considered what length of nail you want to have?"

"We work as freelancers," Charlotte spoke up quickly. All to best Mollie to the punch before she could settle them with something incredibly long. "Nails too long would be impractical."

"Of course." Robin pointed to the chairs. "Please take a seat so we can get started."

As Charlotte did so, she noticed that her nails were considerably longer. Looking at them, she could swear she could see them grow. "These bracelets. They are magical?"

"They are," Robin confirmed, before showing worry. "You aren't avoiding magic, are you?"

"Oh, no," Charlotte was quick to assure. "Lately magic items seem to pop up more than expected. I was just surprised to encounter them here."

"Are they expensive?" Mollie wanted to know.

Robin gave a shrug. "Not really. I think we get them for around one hundred dollars. There is a school for magic in the Louisiana Territories that makes them for us. Good for practice, they say."

Charlotte caught Mollie's eyes and knew what she was thinking. It was as if Mollie was determined to build a collection of magical trinkets. Previously, she had tried unsuccessfully to purchase two of the bunny girl headbands on their last day at Bunny Beach. Now, she had her eyes on those bracelets. With a hundred each, Charlotte doubted she would have a hard time convincing Mollie they would be too expensive.

Before this topic could go on, Charlotte took a seat. She was ready to move on to the next step of their spa day. To her, the massage had been the highlight, but she wasn't really looking forward to the rest. Still, she was here for Mollie and would endure everything to make her happy. Thankfully, Mollie dropped the topic for now and took her own seat.

What came next, wasn't as bad as Charlotte had feared. Mobile basins were wheeled over to give their hair a wash. Just the shampooing was worth it. Lathering it in was like a massage for her head. Her face was gently washed too, before a thick cream was slathered all over it. Again, it was not as bad as Charlotte had feared.

Meanwhile, other employees of the spa started to work on their nails. Expertly using a file to hone down their just-grown nails. The bracelets found their new place on their ankles where the magic found a new target. As everything unfolded, Charlotte was close to falling asleep.

Over at the other chair, she could hear Mollie and Robin talking. Clearly, Charlotte's fiancé was curious about French Maids and grilled Robin about everything she could think of. From the hierarchy to clothing conventions. Charlotte overheard that Robin was still the first rank of the French Maids. Like a novice or apprentice. She worked at the spa as a means to round off her education and earn a little extra. All while getting a formal education as a French Maid. Charlotte just hoped that Mollie wouldn't be recruited by Robin.

As they were declared ready, Charlotte and Mollie were led into a hair salon. Here, Robin and a co-worker started their basic education in all things makeup. To Charlotte's surprise, their crash course wasn't the same. As she now learned, they both didn't have the same skin type. Which had an impact on what products and colors to use. She even learned about basic facial shapes, which one she belonged to, and how to accentuate them best.

"You should pay a little more attention," her instructor gently chided Charlotte.

Caught red-handed, Charlotte tore her eyes away from Mollie. It was so easy to get lost in the view. Mollie listened attentively and clearly had the time of her life. Seeing her so happy highlighted Mollie's beauty more than any makeup could and it had been the reason why Charlotte had brought her here.

"Sorry," Charlotte mumbled to her instructor. "Makeup isn't really my thing. I am doing it for her."

"The tomboy type. I figured." The instructor gave a quick glance to Mollie before returning her gaze. "Listen, being a tomboy is fine. But you should still pay attention. Because I guess you can't visit a spa every day. But you can have makeup as a backup. Not for herself. Believe me, pulling out your best face on a day she doesn't expect- Well, that can be a gift in itself. One often rewarded well."

The wink at the end by the instructor was a little overkill, but Charlotte got the gist. Maybe she should take it more seriously. She originally had become a woman again to offer Mollie a girlfriend experience that she never had before. But Charlotte would be lying if she didn't enjoy parts of it herself. She couldn't still imagine going Charlotte full time. But now and then switching to Charlotte to have fun with Mollie had its perks. Just seeing how happy she was right now was a reward as well.

Charlotte vowed to pay more attention. She might not become Charlotte very often in the future, but doing makeup well on those days might show Mollie that she was taking it seriously and not just goofing off. Wearing makeup itself wasn't as bad as Charlotte had imagined. She could feel each layer applied, but it wasn't as heavy and suffocating as she had expected. Given time, she might not even notice anymore. Just like one wasn't aware of the clothes one wears all the time. The sensations drifted into the background.

After nearly an hour of makeup lessons and showing how it was done, Mollie and Charlotte transitioned to applying makeup themselves. It was by no means as good as the professionals could, but better than Charlotte had expected. All that new knowledge that rattled in her head helped out even as her actual skill of applying makeup was barely there.

Once pronounced good enough to at least apply daily makeup, the next step waited. Both got an expert haircut and it was styled for an evening out. Then, once more the professionals made up their faces.

"What are you in the mood for?" Charlotte could hear Robin ask Mollie.

"I want to be sexy," Mollie replied. "Max seduction."

Charlotte gave a quiet chuckle and then looked to her own instructor. "I'll have the same."

The next minutes were heavy with activity and even with her newfound knowledge, Charlotte could hardly follow as her instructor used tricks to get the most out of her features.

At last, Charlotte and Mollie were released. They both stood up at the same time and froze as they caught each other's gaze. Mollie had always been beautiful. Of that, Charlotte had been convinced. Now, that beauty was still evident, but it was highlighted in a new way. The eyeshadow made her expressive eyes stand out more. Lipstick made her gentle lips pop and made them so inviting to kiss. Contouring highlighted Mollie's cheekbones.

Mollie was the first to find her voice. "You look gorgeous!"

"Me?" Charlotte had been so occupied with the vision of Mollie standing before her that she hadn't even looked at her own reflection. She had only eyes for her fiancé. "You are so beautiful it is stunning."

Mollie turned to the mirror and Charlotte joined her. She was just as made up as Mollie and they both looked fantastic. That gave Charlotte some pause. As Scott, she looked good. Some might even say handsome. But now as Charlotte and wearing makeup, she looked downright desirable. It was a revelation that Charlotte was ill-equipped to handle. The feeling itself was strange and foreign.

"Thank you," Mollie quietly said beside her. Snuggling against her arm. "This means a lot to me."

As Charlotte turned to her, she saw a single tear escape Mollie's eye, despite her looking more than happy. As Mollie noticed herself, a slight pang of panic started to form, but Robin was quick to jump in.

"Your makeup is waterproof," the French Maid pointed out. "It should last a while."

Calmed down, Mollie looked at Charlotte again. Then leaned in. Both shared a kiss that made the world pause for them. It might not exist at all as they only had eyes for each other.

Once their need for skinship was fulfilled, it was time to say goodbye to Robin and their co-workers. Part of the whole makeup crash course was a small kit with everything they needed for a few basic looks and some more challenging ones. Each was customized to work well with their respective skin tones. With those in tow, they left the spa.

"I am not sure what to do now," Mollie remarked as they walked slowly through the mall. "A part of me wants to walk around for hours and show the world what a hot girlfriend I have. Then again, part of me wants to drag you to our van and have you all for myself."

"Tempting," Charlotte said with a knowing smile. "But neither is an option, for there is one more surprise I have for you."

"More?" Mollie asked. "How can there possibility be more?" Her eyes narrowed. "Maybe a candlelight dinner?"

Charlotte gave a nervous chuckle. "To be honest, I haven't thought that far ahead. But we are nearly at our next stop." She gently directed Mollie to a specific location. One that came now into few. "Over there. I thought you might like something to remember the day. So, I booked us a professional photo shot."

"You really thought of everything!" Mollie gushed, before adding deadpan: "Except for dinner."

"I am sure we will find something," Charlotte promised.

"Looking like us? Of course, we will." Laughing, Mollie pulled Charlotte to the photo studio. Not that it was necessary.

---

Charlotte couldn't help but chuckle as another piece of Sushi slipped Mollie's chopsticks. That earned her a mock glare. "It's my first time eating Sushi. Give me a break."

After their photoshoot, they walked around the mall. Then Mollie had spotted a Sushi restaurant and their dinner plans were sealed.

"Or, you could try eating by hand." Charlotte picked up a Maki and stuffed it whole in her mouth. "It's a lot easier."

"How can someone look so beautiful and refined, yet have the table manners of a five-year-old?" The smirk on Mollie betrayed how serious she was. She pointed at Charlotte with her chopsticks. "Everyone knows you eat Sushi with chopsticks. So, I want to learn."

"Everyone knows it is rude to point with chopsticks at someone," Charlotte corrected. "And everyone is wrong about how Sushi is to be eaten. It originally comes from Japan and was meant to be eaten by hand."

"Which Japan?" Mollie joked. "There are eight of them scattered in the Pacific and then there is that enclave in Alaska. They all claim they are the real Japan."

Mollie had a point there. When New Terra was created, it copied and stretched the land masses of the original Earth by a factor of ten. But for some reason, the process glitches on a few islands. The island nation of Japan had multiple copies instead of one enlarged one. A fate that it shared with the island of Corsica in the Mediterranean.

"The Japan of old Earth," Charlotte corrected. "And each piece isn't supposed to be drenched in soy sauce. It should be used sparingly."

Mollie wasn't really listening as she attempted another try to lift up a piece of inside-out roll to her lips. Just as she was about to succeed, her handbag buzzed and broke Mollie's concentration. Another piece fell and another chuckle escaped Charlotte. Giving her a mock glare, Mollie went for her handbag and withdrew her digital tablet. Instead of a quick glance, she unlocked it fully and started to read through chunks of text. The Sushi was suddenly forgotten.

As Mollie wasn't finished within a minute, Charlotte grew a bit impatient. "What is it? Something bad?"

"What?" Mollie looked up and Charlotte could see the moment in her fiancé's face as she remembered she wasn't alone. "Ah, sorry. Do you remember that I started a search for the origin of the corset? The search program just reported back."

"About time," Charlotte remarked. "The information must be from far away.

The internet was a global affair, but it had many blind spots, and often political borders could slow down bandwidth considerably. Local internet was the fastest, but jumping even one country or state line could add minutes to hours to get a ping back. With the continent of North America fractured as it was, some parts needed weeks to do a round trip. Information from other continents might take months to return.

To manage this problem, people send out semi-intelligent programs that spread through the internet. In Mollie's case of the corset, she had taken pictures of it and instructed the program to search for its origin or for cases of garments with a similar effect. It appeared that it was successful.

"You won't believe what it has found." Mollie scrolled up and summarized aloud. "According to this, our corset is old. Probably manufactured ninety to a hundred years old. And it was not intended for Can Can dancers or Southern Belles. It was made for a themed restaurant in the protected district of Folsom in the principality of San Francisco. There, couples could switch genders and experience the other side. There are quite a few garments as our corset. Meant to temporarily bend someone's gender."

Mollie read further and made a sudden frowning face. "Says here the restaurant went belly up as more and more garments were stolen. Among those is our corset. The restaurant couldn't get new ones as the manufacturer died of old age. It appears the process to create them was rather complicated and no one else managed to learn how to do it."

"It was a century ago," Charlotte mused. "Not many had embraced magic as a safe and reliable practice back then. That someone had created something like our corset is an achievement in itself."

"Oh, wow!" Mollie exclaimed and looked up shocked at Charlotte. "We have offers. My search must have tripped some wires. There are five people who offer good money for the corset."

Charlotte's mouth suddenly felt dry. Not too long ago, she - as Scott - wouldn't have minded getting rid of the corset. Now, things were different. As Charlotte, she felt she had made a whole new connection with Mollie. It didn't mean she wanted to be Charlotte all the time, but being her from time to time had some surprising appeal to it.

"How much?" Charlotte asked. Secretly hoping it wasn't too substantial an offer.

"The lowest is fifteen hundred," Mollie gushed. "But it goes up all the way to two thousand one hundred."

"That's a lot," Charlotte said before looking to the side. That was more money than they had made in the months since they ran away together. She liked their little van, but with that kind of money, they might have a good down payment for a bigger one or even an RV. Was it really worth holding onto Charlotte if they could improve their overall situation like that? "Two thousand. That goes a long way."

An uncomfortable silence settled over their small booth in the restaurant. Two thousand wasn't a lot for most people, but for them, it was game-changing. Yet both were reluctant to let go of Charlotte.

Suddenly, Mollie snapped her fingers and gave Charlotte a triumphant grin. "What if we could get more than two thousand?"

Charlotte eyed her skeptically. "What do you mean?" Then it dawned on her. "If there are five, then there is demand. We could hold an auction. See how much they are really willing to pay."

"No. No. No. No." Mollie looked ready to spring the biggest surprise and it made her radiate with excitement. "Remember what Robin said? About those bracelets. They get them from a magic school in the Louisiana Territories. Clearly, someone is studying magic and willing to create new magical items. Listen. What if we find someone who can make copies of the corset."

"Provided the manufacturing cost isn't too cheap-" Now, Charlotte started to feel excited too. "We could sell to all of them. Maybe even look around for others. Those five were those that knew about the corset and were actively looking. There might be more people wanting a garment with this ability. They just don't know it exists."

"We could also look for more magical items," Mollie suggested. "Who knows what people came up with in the past. There might be more lost items. Oh, this is exciting. We could build a whole business around this."

Mollie's excitement was infectious, but it also set them up for potential disappointment. She hated to do it, but Charlotte had to be the voice of reason. "If we find someone to make copies. And as I said, the manufacturing cost is a problem too."

Mollie was about to say something when her tablet beeped again. A quick glance and she turned all serious to Charlotte. "Well, we better find someone, because two more offers just arrived. Even if we just make three hundred bucks on each sale in profit, it would be more than selling it once. And we can keep Charlotte around. So, eat up, buttercup. We got a maker to find."

Charlotte gave an amused snort and took one piece of Maki between her fingers. Holding it up, she deliberately made her voice sound a bit snobbish. "Sushi is not something to gobble down. It is meant to be enjoyed slowly."

Mollie looked down at her spread of Sushi and Charlotte literally could see when it clicked and Mollie was reminded that it was her idea to come here and try Sushi for the first time. Just as deliberate as Charlotte had been, Mollie picked up a Maki on her own. "Cheers!" she said before bumping into Charlotte's Maki as if she was clinking champagne glasses and then biting into it.

Charlotte was shocked for a moment and then gave a long-suffering shake of her head. "That's not how to eat Sushi either."

---

Scott tried to cool off by fanning himself by flapping the collar of his shirt. Not that it helped much. Even his little attempts were futile and probably not a wise action. He was, after all, driving their little van. Not that he was doing so very fast. Ever since they had added a small trailer their meager maximum speed had dropped further down.

"We really need a better van," Scott lamented. Glancing at Mollie who was busy in the passenger seat. "One with an AC."

"Maybe," Mollie said without looking up. She was busy playing with a new tablet. This one was arcane in nature. "I'd rather use the money we have to invest in new products. If we find some. Maybe a new van can wait? It will be Autumn soon."

Scott gave a hearty chuckle. Since their day at the Sushi restaurant, they steadily made their way south. Taking just a little longer than two months. A further month had passed looking for someone to partner up. Then they had to wait for the copies of the corset to be made and enchanted. Only now, they started to travel again.

"I don't think you have thought that through. We are still in the Louisiana Territories. This far south Autumn and Winter will still be hot. Not to mention that we are heading west instead of north."

"Urgh, you are right. A better van would be nice. If we sell two or three more corset copies, we could afford it." Mollie finally looked up from the tablet. Only to inspect her painted nails. Satisfied, she slipped off an ornate bracelet and placed it on Scott's right wrist. "What do you think?"

Scott glanced at his hands on the steering wheel. His nails appeared to be growing, but he knew it was not so. Just an illusion. They also changed color to a uniform pink. More details appeared. Giving his nails French tips and a motif started to form. Delicate little branches in brown with white flowers.

"Cherry blossoms?" Scott guessed. "Not bad. You are getting better"

"Not that hard with this." Mollie lifted up the arcane tablet and saw the design for each nail in a painting application. That was really all to the tablet there is. One could paint designs for nails and transmit them to the synchronized bracelet. Which then created illusions to display those designs on the nails of the wearer.

It was one of three products they picked up besides the copies of the corset. The tablet and bracelet were made by the same person who made the nail-growing bracelets for Robin's Spa. It had been a bust on the corset front until the maker recommended a nearby magic wig manufactory. There, they had finally found someone who could duplicate the corsets.

Of course, Mollie couldn't resist. After sending on the first few corsets and getting paid, she invested some of their funds into a few of these magical wigs. Those fused to one's head like the bunny headband at Bunny Beach. With this, a quick change of color was possible in seconds.

Scott glanced over. Currently, Mollie was wearing metallic blue hair. He preferred her natural hair but wasn't about to burst Mollie's bubble. She had too much fun wearing colorful wigs in the last few days.

"You might want to shoot a little video," Scott recommended.

Along with a small online shop, they started to build an online presence. Which was rather hard as they still haven't come up with a name yet.

"Of course." Mollie snatched the bracelet off his wrist and then put it away, along with the tablet. "I think we are close." A moment later, she pointed at a sign. "There. The SuperGrocer."

"Yep," Scott confirmed and steered their van onto the parking lot of the local supermarket. "Now we have to wait for our client."

"A covert sale on a parking lot," Mollie mused. "Makes me think we are some kind of spies."

"You'd be a horrible spy," Scott remarked and got a shocked face in return. "What? We both know you would boast about the fact to everyone. Five minutes into any discussion and you would be made."

"Not true."

"Right. What was I thinking?" Scott gave her a grin. "No more than two minutes."

"I should be angry," Mollie said, narrowing her eyes. But quickly cheered up again. "But to be fair, that's probably about right."

A half-hour later, an unassuming young man walked toward their van. He clearly looked nervous before approaching. "Are you the sellers from Transformative Delights?"

Scott gave Mollie a questioning look, who leaned against their van beside him. She crossed her arms. "What? I had to give some name."

"We are," Scott confirmed to the customers. "Though the name is not yet final. Just to confirm, we need your name."

"Evan. Evan Burch." The young man looked ready to bolt. "You have the corset, right? Does it really work?"

"It does," Molly said as she pulled out a box from within the van. Lifting up the lit revealed a pastel pink corset. "Didn't you see our demonstration video?"

"Things like that can be faked," Evan remarked. "There is a whole industry for such videos. Leading to plenty of fake hits in my search for the corset."

"This one works," Scott insisted. "Every corset we sell has been worn twice. Once by Mollie here to imprint a female figure. Without that step, it wouldn't work. Then, I wore it shortly to confirm the enchantment works. But you can easily check if it works by just wearing it."

"Here?" the client looked around the parking lot if anyone could have overheard him.

Scott gave a shrug. "Sure. The transformation doesn't last long. Well, the effect lasts three times as long as the garment is worn. The minimum is five minutes for wearing it before the corset can be opened again. Making the overall minimum time twenty minutes. But if you want to become a woman full-time, you have to wear it for at least six hours a day."

Evan blushed heavily. "Oh, no. Not for that long. Four or five hours now and then."

Mollie slit the lit onto the box again. "You ain't buying the corset to sneak into some locker room, are you?"

"I swear I am not!" Evan himself noticed how forceful it sounded. A little defeated, he explained. "My mother is a participating Southern Belle. As was my grandmother and her mother. Three generations. But I don't have a sister and it would be a shame to break tradition. So, with this corset, I can keep it alive."

Mollie and Scott exchanged a glance. It was Scott who spoke up. "Sounds risky. If you are found out, you could anger a lot of people."

"I already told my Ma and Grandma," Evan assured them. "They think it is fine. And I will be completely open about it. Telling everyone."

"Sounds like a lot of trouble to go through," Mollie mused. Then, she offered the box with the corset. "And expensive. That will be two thousand dollars."

As Evan handed over a stack of bills, Scott had a sudden insight. "There is a woman there you fancy." A twitch by Evan revealed that he had hit Bullseye. "Ah, don't worry. I know how far one goes for love. Certainly had me jump the gender fence a few times."

With the bills handed over, Evan took possession of the corset. Clutching it like a treasure chest. Still, he was flush with red. "I mean, I really want to continue the tradition." Then a little more meek: "But I wouldn't mind catching Shannon's attention."

"Good luck with that," Mollie wished and Scott gave the same sentiment a moment later.

Then, Evan hurried off. Once out of sight, Mollie raised the two thousand to her face and sniffed. "Ahh, I like the smell of freshly earned money."

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Scott reminded her. "That was the last of the original offers. Now we have to turn up new clients."

A mischievous grin made Scott know he was in trouble. "Well, we need to turn up new clients," Mollie purred. "That means more advertisements. I think I have a few ideas for videos we could make. Maybe one goes viral."

Scott shook his head while giving a bemused grin. He should have known. It looked like the weather forecast for the next few days was sunny, with high temperatures, and occasional appearances of Charlotte.

---

They had been at it for hours and there was no end in sight. Slowly, the many garments before Scott's eyes began to blur together. It was ironic, really. A year had passed and their little business was growing. They had found a few arcane crafters willing to work with them, but the hard part was to come up with items to duplicate. Most of their new additions had been scavenged from second-hand shops. Just like this one. Or the very first one that started it all.

Scott was currently looking through a section of long evening gowns. Mollie had created a hit list with garments that were known to be magic with transformative enchantments and currently missing. Three of the candidates were evening gowns and would be hiding here. Provided that they were lucky.

The urgent squeaking of shoes on the cheap floor that came closer alerted Scott that Mollie was looking for him. "Over here," Scott shouted as Mollie rushed past. There was a nasty squeal of shoes on linoleum as he heard her make a full stop and turn.

She came to him like an excited puppy with her find. "Look what I found!"

Scott took the garment in his hand. "Spanks?" He raked his head if there was one item on the bounty list that might fit the bill. There were Spanks on it but of nude color. This one was dark brown. "I don't know, honey."

"Look!" Mollie handled the garment until the tag was out. It was worn and faded. "It is hard to make out, but I think these are the initials of Bottom Betty."

That name rang a bell for Scott. Bottom Betty had been a successful porn star about seventy years ago. She had managed to garner fans outside of her own country. A rare feat and it could probably be attributed to her main selling point. A legendary bubble butt. At least until rumors started to circulate that her behind was the work of magic. The rumor about magic spanks had been the nail in Bottom Betty's career's coffin.

"Honey," Scott started gently, to ease the let down for Mollie. "They are the wrong color."

"Aha! And there, you are wrong." Grinning from ear to ear, Mollie folded the Spanks before his eyes. It was not hard to see what Mollie had stumbled upon. Both parts of the fabric she now sandwiched should have the same color, but the dark brown was slightly different. "I think someone dyed it. That would explain why the colors don't match perfectly and why the tag is hard to read."

Scott took the garment and inspected it himself. "Could be. Maybe the next owner was African American and dyed them to match her skin color."

"Well, there is only one way to know." With a twirl and a flourish, Mollie pointed to the changing rooms.

Scott gave an overdone eye roll and then sauntered over to the changing rooms. Purposely walking a bit slower to tease Mollie. But if Mollie was right and this was indeed Bottom Betty's magic Spanks, then they had won the second-hand store lottery. There were bounties posted on the internet for up to three thousand dollars. Hopefully, they would pay the same for copies. Provided it was the right magical garment.

Taking a booth, Scott started to strip out of his shoes and pants. Then, he held up the Spanks. "Should have come as Charlotte," he muttered before stepping into the underwear and pulling it up.

It was quite snug on his skin. It was, after all, their function. Tighten the hips and push the butt up. Seconds passed by. "I don't think-" Then the tingling started. "Hold on. Something is happening."

His behind suddenly exploded into a new girth of his butt. It was accompanied by the ripping of fabric. His boxers that he had worn under the Spanks.

"Mollie." Scott glanced at his behind. "I have good news and bad news."

Mollie peeked her head in and Scott had just about time to say "don't you dare" before Mollie burst out in laughter.

"Yeah. Yeah. Laugh it up." Scott glanced at his butt. It looked enormous. "I could sit a beer can on that."

"A can?" Mollie managed in between snickers. "More like a whole keg."

"I mean I knew Bottom Betty was famous for her behind, but this?" Scott had to touch it. His butt was surprisingly firm and definitely not an optical trick.

"You know what this means?" Mollie asked. "Ka-ching!"

"That's the good news," Scott agreed. "Here is the bad news. How do we get it out without revealing to the sales staff that they sit on a small treasure trove? For that matter, how do we get me out? Not to mention that I had a wardrobe malfunction."

"I need the Spanks first," Mollie urged him. "I should buy it before they know it is magical."

Scott rolled his eyes but dutifully stripped out of the Spanks. "Glad you got your priorities straight."

Mollie blew him a raspberry, before eyeing him critically. "And maybe I'll find a skirt for you. Extra large."

She was gone before Scott could say anything, so he muttered to himself. "I really should have come as Charlotte." Having an extra large bubble butt was definitely not a look for a guy.

Impatiently, Scott waited for Mollie's return. Or for his butt to shrink. Both would be welcome. It was Mollie who won that race.

"I got this," she said, before handing him over a layered lacy ruffled skirt that would reach to the floor. "Only thing that might fit."

"Are you sure?" Scott dug. It would be just Mollie's thing to dig out the frilliest of skirts for him.

Mollie placed her hands on her hips and tapped her right foot. "It's paid for. So, unless you want to wait it out, it is this skirt or nothing."

Grumbling, Scott pushed the skirt over his head. There was no way he could step into it and pull it up. "This looks ridiculous," he remarked as he saw his mirror image. It looked like someone had strapped two pillows to his butt. Not to mention that the frilly skirt clashed with his black Revival Metal motive shirt.

Red like a tomato, Scott followed Mollie out of the store. They nearly made it when the clerk at the register perked up. "Sir? Sir! Hold on. What's that under your skirt? Are you smuggling clothes out?"

"It's my butt," Scott protested while getting even more flustered. Seeing the doubt in the clerk's eyes, Scott lifted up the backside of the skirt. "I have a condition."

The statement wasn't helped as Mollie burst out at the same time with: "Allergies."

Seconds passed before the clerk waved them through. Hurrying out, both burst into nervous giggles.

Both returned to their van and Scott took a seat. "Damn, that feels strange. So squishy."

"Comfortable?" Mollie teased.

Scott gave her a glare. "Let's just hope the duration of this condition doesn't last too long. I've worn the Spanks for maybe a minute and the effect is still there. Any idea how long it will last?"

Mollie shrugged. "Everything I collected on them were rumors. Some of them were at odds with each other. While most said the Spanks grows one's butt - now confirmed - others implied Bottom Betty's behind actually was this large and she used the Spanks to reduce her girth. Which makes more sense, given what Spanks usually do. We might need to tweak how strong the effect is. And the duration. Maybe some variations. We could be at the manufacturer in Hobbington in two or three weeks. How many copies do you think we should get."

Scott gave an amused snort before giving a sad shake of his head. This was so Mollie. Jumping onto the business opportunity before the enchantment had even worn off. "How about none?" His statement had Mollie puzzled, so he stood up, took her hand, and led her a few feet away from their van. "Now tell me where you want to stow our newest product."

Mollie's confusion gave way to contemplation. Scott saw her gaze fall onto the van. It wasn't their old small van they had started out with. Their new van was the biggest electric van they had found. At that time, it had felt spacious compared to their first mobile home. It even had a small shower and kitchenette. With plenty of storage room.

Or so they had thought. As their business had taken off, more and more merchandise had taken up storage space. They had stuffed every nook and cranny before they found an alternative. The solar panel on the roof had to make space for a rack that could strap on weatherproof boxes. Instead of relying on fixed solar panels, they now had some they could roll out.

Mollie's view shifted as she acknowledged that their roof space was used up too. Her gaze fell onto their trailer. Not the first either. In hindsight, it had been a mistake to buy a small trailer and thinking it would suffice. Just three months later, they exchanged it for one that was nearly as large as their van. It too was stuffed full of merchandise.

Scott knew he had Mollie dead to rights. "I am listening. Any suggestions?"

"Maybe we could temporarily put some in the shower?" As Scott gave her a less-than-enthusiastic look, Mollie swiveled on the spot. "Well, we would have space if someone wasn't hugging the closet space."

Scott only shrugged. "Well, I am dressing for two."

Mollie's eyes grew wide and she covered her mouth. "Don't tell me. You are pregnant?"

In reply, she got a long-suffering look. "I said dressing for two. Not eating. And I might point out that most of those clothes are in there because you treat Charlotte as your personal dress-up doll."

"True," Mollie admitted. "But I wouldn't mind seeing you pregnant. I heard rumors about special strap-ons the tribes of Florida use."

Every reply on Scott's tongue died away as his mind entertained the thought for a moment. How would it feel to carry new life in one's belly? Could it work? Did he have to wear the corset for three to four months to make it work? That was a daunting duration.

"I think you are getting ahead of yourself," Scott said to avoid giving Mollie a comment on her suggestion. "Look at our van. There isn't space for any new product line. Even less so for starting a family. Mollie, we have to-"

"Get a bigger van!"

Scott sighed. Taking a seat nearby, he motioned for Mollie to join him. "Do you remember our original plan? We wanted to travel the continent to find a new home. Some place we can settle down. Yes, I have grown fond of traveling with you too. But we have to decide now. We can't grow our business any bigger or start a family with our current setup. Getting something bigger will only postpone the inevitable. Do we settle down - grow the business and start a family - or do we take a step back and keep traveling? We have to decide."

For once, there was no quick quip from Mollie. Her gaze drifted between Scott and their van. He could see that the decision wasn't easy for her. At last, she looked like she was ready.

"So-" She stretched out the word like it was bubblegum and a hint of mischief returned to her gaze. "If we settle down, I can put a bun in your oven?"

"Not if I put a bun into you first," Scott shot back. Giggling, Mollie drew him into a hug and passionate kiss.

As their kiss ended, Mollie turned thoughtful again. "Settling down, huh? In the beginning, we talked about it all the time. Not so much lately. A lot has changed since then. I am not even sure where we should stake our claim."

Scott gently rubbed his fiancé's back as she snuggled against him. "Well, I have given it some thought-"

"Of course, you have!" Mollie exclaimed after a short sharp laugh. "Go on. Woe me with details."

"You liked the Louisiana Territories, didn't you? Most of our business partners are there too. How about that small town with the mage academies."

"Oh, we can pilver promising alumni!" This time, it was Scott's turn to laugh. Undeterred, Mollie ventured on. "It's not too far away from the Gulf of Mexico too. I loved the beaches there. Not enough beach bunnies though. Maybe we should ask if we can franchise Bunny Beach."

Scott shook his head in amusement. "Maybe we find a house first? Then we can open up a shop and get established. And then, when we have solid ground under our feet, we can tackle other big projects."

"Deal!" Mollie extracted herself from the hug to offer Scott a handshake. After they shook, her real motive revealed itself. "Time to test out those Spanks myself. That butt of yours has me jealous."

Scott gave a muted chuckle. Yes, that was exactly how the woman he knew and loved behaved. And in their little social dance, he knew exactly what to say next. "Ah, so you want to have child-bearing hips. I think I know who will carry our first child."

Mollie, halfway into stepping into the Spanks, stopped to give him a raspberry.

---

"Nervous?" Charlotte asked as she took Mollie's hand in her own.

"A little," Mollie admitted. "The other two properties had been good, but our realtor promised something amazing for this one."

"Hopefully, we can afford it," Charlotte grumbled.

Hand in hand, they casually strolled along the boulevard. It was obvious that this part of the town was for tourists. Not just by the masses of people walking around, but also by the shops and restaurants that lined the street. Pushing past those buildings, they arrived at the riverfront and the promenade that paralleled the shore.

The whole town was built into the Mississippi delta and branches of the mighty river could be found everywhere. This fact was underlined by the many boats that lined the shoreline. A few were swimming restaurants, but most were converted to houseboats.

"Over there," Mollie pointed out and a moment later, Charlotte caught sight of a red jacket too. As they arrived, Mollie took the initiative. "Good afternoon, Miss Hodgkins."

"To you too, Mollie," the realtor replied as she shook her hand. "Scott isn't with you today? And who do I have the pleasure to meet today?"

"Charlotte," she introduced herself. Then gave a mock glare at Mollie. "I am afraid Scott won't join for the foreseeable future. Say, nine months."

"Oh, shush, I won fair and square." Seeing the confusion of Miss Hodgkins, Mollie chose to explain. "You see, Miss Hodgkins, Scott and I have a business that deals with bodily alterations and transformations of the magical kind. Whenever Scott becomes a woman, she goes by Charlotte."

"Oh!" Then it dawned on the realtor what really went on. "Congratulations. How far are you along?"

"Thanks." Charlotte didn't sound very excited. "I should have turned back two days ago. So, I would say I am two days along."

"Oh, don't mind her grumpiness," Mollie injected. "She can be a sore loser sometimes. But we both are looking forward to becoming a family."

"Well, in that case, you need a home," Miss Hodgkins quipped. Quickly and professionally switching to the task at hand. "And this one might just be perfect. If you would follow?"

Instead of leading them to one of the buildings overlooking the boulevard, she walked just a few meters and stepped onto a pier. Passing a few willow trees, a breathtaking view unfolded. Moored to the pier was a large riverboat with three stories.

"This is the SS Nixie," Miss Hodgkins opened her pitch and pointed at the name painted on the bow. "Or it would be if it was a real boat. Let me explain. This house was built to mimic the classic paddle steamer of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century that used to traverse the Mississippi of Old Earth. It - sadly - rests on a concrete foundation and the large rear paddle is purely decorative."

The realtor walked over a plank to set foot on the fake ship. She waited for her clientele to follow who had trouble taking it all in. "It originally was built as a bed and breakfast and operated as such for fifty-odd years. The owner changed and it was remodeled as a fine dining establishment. After thirty years it closed down and remained in private hands for another decade before it was sold to a luxury designer company. This was their southern subsidiary and showroom."

Opening up, they stepped into a large room that had an amazing view of the shore and river through floor-to-ceiling windows. "As you can see, this space is ideal for a shop or boutique. As it was used as such before. The rear end has plenty of storage space. The floor up is currently set up as office space. Above, there is a large private apartment."

Mollie and Charlotte followed along as they were shown the houseboat in detail. The more they saw, the more they loved it.

"It is perfect," Mollie gushed. "The price-"

"We'd have to take a loan," Charlotte confirmed. "But the way our business is growing, that shouldn't be a hurdle. Just imagine."

They both could. Downstairs was perfect for a large sales room with changing cabins. As well as a large storage room. The office space might be a bit premature, but they both knew they might need to hire staff sooner than later. And the apartment was large enough that they could have a dozen children.

"All that is left is to walk you down the aisle," Charlotte mused after they both had signed the contract. "I can't wait to see you in a white dress."

Mollie smiled, before sharing a passionate kiss. "Of course, there is an opportunity." Charlotte arched her eyebrow and Mollie was quick to explain. "I bet you would look great in a wedding dress too. It might also be a dream of many of our customers. We could have a little photoshoot. Show them that dreams can come true. With the added benefit that I too can walk you down the aisle."

Charlotte chuckled. Of course, she had to expect something just like it from the woman she loved. "Of course, my love." Arm in arm they looked at their newest purchase. "After all these years traveling, we finally have a place to call home."

"And we will fill it with more love than our parents ever did."

The end.

---

Author's note:
This story was voted for by my readers on my discord.
If you want to influence what I write next join my discord server here: Cassy's Library

Aureo ran for his life. All the while looking behind him for pursuers. There weren't any. Not yet, anyway. It was only a matter of time. The Cortez syndicate does not forget or forgive.

Running out of the oldest district of New Boston, Aureo fell to his knees. His lungs burning and every gulp of air was desperately needed and fought for. Before him, the cobbled street opened up to the train station. A massive area that stretched as far as he could see. He couldn't even see the beasts of burden that pulled wagons numbered in the hundreds behind them. One of them, he had to board. Else, he might be as good as dead. The death itself would probably be a release after vigorous torture.

Still winded, Aureo pulled himself up. Aiming for the only part of the station that was roofed, Aureo stumbled more than walked towards the ticket booth. Fate had mercy on him as the last customer just left. Leaving no waiting line for him. At once, Aureo hurried over and leaned - nearly collapsed - against the counter.

"Welcome to the New Boston train terminal. Run by the Appalachian Train Union. What can I-" The ticket clerk finally looked up and saw the sorry state of the person before her was in. "Are you alright? Do you need medical assistance? I could call someone."

"No. I am. Fine," Aureo assured her. "Need to- Ticket."

The ticket clerk wasn't caught off-guard for long. Her professional training took over. "Where to, if I may ask?"

"Anywhere!" Aureo answered with more force than intended and was polite. Cringing himself, he lowered his voice. "Just out of New Boston. First train."

Understanding dawned in the clerk's eyes. Only people in trouble didn't care for a destination. And Aureo certainly looked the part. She kind of felt bad for him. "The next train leaving is heading for Worthington Heights in the Greater Chicago area in two days. I am sorry."

Aureo nearly collapsed then and there again. His one hope of escape was dashed quickly. Sure, he could run by car, but Cortez's men would find him soon enough. The country roads wouldn't get him far and the highways could be easily blocked off. Not to mention that the syndicate was in all the nearby cities. Small or big. He'd be looking over his shoulder for days and probably not make it very far.

"Wait!" The clerk looked excited. "I just see the Neville Express hasn't left the station yet. They have been delayed by an hour. Maybe forty minutes now left." Then her optimism faltered. "But I have to warn you. It is a luxury train. Cruise ship on wheels so to speak. A ticket won't come cheap."

"How much?"

"About two thousand if you want to leave the East American Commonwealth behind."

Aureo emptied his pockets. He had grabbed what he could, but would it be enough? Bills small and big landed on the counter. But it became obvious quite early that Aureo would be well short.

"Let me-" The clerk turned towards her terminal again. Typing away with a speed Aureo could never hope to match. "You may be in luck after all. The Neville Express is looking for workers. If you hurry and speak with the owner, you might earn your ride."

"Brilliant!" Aureo exclaimed. He could kiss her right now. If she hadn't been behind glass. He dashed off, only to stop two seconds later.

"Platform eleven," the clerk shouted.

Giving a small bow, Aureo took off again. His destination was one of the pedestrian bridges that spanned the train yard. Climbing two stairs at once, Aureo quickly became winded again. By the time he reached the top of the stairs, Aureo needed another break.

At least, he had a good view over the train station. Close by - on the platforms one, two, and three - were shorter trains. Aureo guessed about two hundred fifty to three hundred wagons long. These probably serviced the closer destinations that were reachable within a week. Namely, the area the East American Commonwealth claimed as their own. On the platforms four and six were long-distance trains parked. They could reach up to six hundred wagons. Though Aureo had neither time nor mood to count these. Maybe half of them might be freight wagons and the last chance to hide and escape if the Neville Express didn't take him in.

But it was the sight further that baffled Aureo and nearly robbed him of his breath all over again. It must be the Neville Express on platform eleven. But contrary to the name, this behemoth of a metal snake couldn't be fast. Rather the opposite. Aureo couldn't even guess the length as one end reached up to the horizon. The serviceable part of the train station was barely able to house the roughly two hundred passenger wagons. Each was three floors tall. Beyond was a large number of service and staff wagons, followed by even more dedicated to freight. The tail end Aureo likened to wagon rejects. He barely could make them out, but they looked skeletal in nature. As if everything, but their frame, had rusted away.

Looking towards the other side of the bridge, the train kept going. More service and staff wagons stretched out of the terminal. Beyond Aureo could make out the largest locomotive he had ever seen. Easily as long as five normal-sized wagons.

The colossal sight kept Aureo in its ban until he snapped out of it. There was no time. If he wanted to board that train he had to hurry. Once again, Aureo started to run. This time a bit more paced. Trying to avoid other pedestrians. The bridge was wide but crowded. It only thinned out after the stairs down to platform six. A reminder that the other platforms were empty. Safe for eleven, but it would be soon too.

Hastening down the flight of stairs, he easily attracted the attention of the train's staff. They stood stiff at a few chosen doors. Wearing a dark green uniform with silvery details and livery. Polished black boots rounded off the outfit. They barely reacted outward, but Aureo could feel their eyes trailing him. While they didn't look welcoming toward him, it still filled Aureo with hope. At least they still stood outside. Meaning there was still time.

Arriving at the first pair of uniforms, Aureo was spoken to before he even could open his mouth. "Ticket, please."

"I-" Aureo broke off against his will. His lungs had been abused too much. Now he fought against their demand for rest and to push out a few more words. "Don't. Have. One."

"Then, Sir, I can't let you enter. If you hurry, there still might be time to buy one at the kiosk in the station's main building." The man's strict posture softened a little. "Though, I might caution you. The price is steep."

"I know," Aureo finally managed to say. Hoping to cut off the lecture for good. He got that the man was polite and only tried to express sympathy. Sadly, Aureo had no time for it. "I heard you hire and I would like to apply."

"I see." The man mustered Aureo who tried to straighten up but failed. Not that the first impression wasn't ruined anyway. But as pitiful Aureo looked, it was enough. "You have to speak to the owner. Good luck, but then again you might not need much. Mister Neville has a bleeding heart for cases like you."

"I- Thanks." What else was a man to say if they were talked down to, but also encouraged? "May I inquire where I can find him?"

The staffer leaned forward and pointed directly ahead of the train. "Mister Neville resides in the locomotive. If you hurry, you still might make it."

Aureo looked baffled in the direct and then back at the man. They were in the middle of the passenger section. Before Aureo had guessed there might be around two hundred wagons for the staff that came before the locomotive capped the train. About three hundred wagons and Aureo might have a half-hour to bridge the distance. Of course, outside of the train. Because he had no ticket.

Giving a weary sigh, Aureo once again started running. This time at an even more measured pace. This was no distance he could sprint by. After about fifty meters, he remembered his manners. Stopping and turning, to give the helpful person a quick bow. Then resumed his running. Past more and more staffers and conductors. All in the dark green uniform with gleaming silver highlights.

Past the railing that marked the end of the platform and the beginning of a section normally reserved for station personnel. The gravel now underneath his feet made for a poor track. But beggars couldn't be choosers. He nearly stumbled in surprise as the first shout of encouragement arrived. A few residents of the train had spotted him running by. More and more leaned out. Calling out. Bestowing blessings and well wishes. If only Aureo had time to listen. Most of what he could hear was the heartbeat echoing through his ears and the labored breathing that filled his entire being.

Nearly at the brink of collapse, Aureo arrived. Drenched in sweat and breathing hard, he made it. The locomotive towered before him. Three stories tall and unusually long. A behemoth still slumbering. The wheels were still resting. There still was time.

"Hello there!" The shout drew Aureo's gaze to a tall, but thin older man leaning out of a door. He was, of course, dressed in the livery of the train, but the uniform looked more refined to Aureo. As if made of better materials. There was a crispness to it. "Be careful. The train is about to roll out. I'd hate for you to end up under its wheels."

At once, Aureo's eyes widened. Had his luck run out after all? He tried to explain himself, but once again, his breath gave out. His body was on the brink of exhaustion. Never had Aureo demanded so much of it in such a short span of time. When words escaped him, Aureo feebly reached out to the man in a gesture of desperation.

"Say." The older man leaned a bit back. As if seeing Aureo suddenly in a new light. "You wouldn't be here by chance for a job? We are looking for help, you know."

At that moment, Aureo could have kissed the man. Instead, he nodded as if his life depended on it. Which, in fact, it might as well do.

"Then come on in," the older gentleman said. He went back inside the locomotive but left the door open.

Hurrying forward, Aureo found the deed easier said than done. A short ladder led towards the door of maybe two meters in height. To Aureo, they felt like twenty, and each rung up was hard fought for. He really was at his end of strength. Yet, he needed just a little more. At last, he arrived at the end. Dragged himself into the interior. And while there was nothing more on his mind than collapsing and letting the world be the world for a while, he shoved the door closed with a kick of a tired leg. It was a sign. Not for others, but for himself. He wouldn't leave this way. He was here to stay.

Aureo couldn't tell how long he laid there. But eventually, he found a modicum of strength. Enough to pull himself up on shaky legs and stumble further into the locomotive. Looking around, it certainly wasn't like he imagined one to look. Sure, there were some pipes and steel. But most was hidden behind the tastefully chosen wood cladding. It looked expensive. More fit for a luxury suite than the workplace affair a locomotive should be.

Aureo found the older gentleman in a small cabin behind an ornate desk. It was a tight affair as most of the room was taken up by the desk and display shelves. The items on exhibition struck Aureo more as mementos than simple displays of wealth.

"Come sit," the man said before filling two fine porcelain cups with tea from an equally lavish designed kettle. Now Aureo was reminded of just how parched he was. All that running had taken its toll. But the tea was still trailing steam. A happenstance that didn't hinder the host from taking a generous sip. Only then, after seeing Aureo hesitate, did the man wise up. "Right. My bad." He produced a large glass from behind the desk and a pitcher of cold water. By the condensation, Aureo could guess it was cooled.

"Now then," the man continued after handing the glass over. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Hamish Neville. I am the head engineer and driver of this fine engine."

"The owner of this train," Aureo added.

Neville chuckled. "So people tell me. The truth is a little more complicated. But for all intents and purposes, I act as the caretaker of this train. And you are?"

"Aureo," he volunteered. "Aureo Testa, Mister Neville. And I am very grateful to you for taking your time hearing me out."

"My pleasure. My pleasure," Hamish said before taking another sip from the tea. "And call me Hamish. Not even my mother called me Mister Neville. So, Aureo, you are looking for work."

"Yes, sir," Aureo nodded eagerly. If this train was his ticket out of town, he'd do anything to get the job. Or part of it. Even if it meant working and grime and dirt. He was used to that anyway.

"Well, we can use the help." Hamish chuckled again. This time as if he shared an inside joke with himself. "So, tell me, have you ever worked on a train? Any skills of note?"

"No, Sir." Aureo's fear returned. What if he couldn't bring anything to the table? "I was a technician in a mine. A safety inspector too and some knowledge in engineering."

"Ah, I see." Hamish leaned back. In thought, he brushed his mustache with his right hand. It wasn't long enough to twirl. "Maintenance it is then. We can always use a good pair of hands there. But I am afraid I have to ask. The manner of your arrival. You are not in trouble with the authorities, are you?"

"No, sir!" Aureo exclaimed quickly. "It was in the mines, sir. Something I saw. The syndicate-"

Aureo stopped as Neville held his hand up. "I don't need those details. But I am afraid your word alone is not enough. I hope you don't mind a background check." With those words, the older gentleman pulled out an ID-scanner. A slim tablet that he placed on the desk.

"Not a problem, Sir." Aureo placed his hand on it. He knew this little device would read his soul-ID. Compare it to the database of the East American Commonwealth and probably to the surrounding countries, republics, and free cities. It wouldn't take long over the local internet. Farther away destinations would require longer waiting times. Even for electronic requests. Feedback from the west coast of America might take a week and a reply from another continent a month or longer. These weren't the times of old Earth where the internet spanned the globe and was near-instantaneous. Here, the internet was splintered and divided. With many bottlenecks. Most of them were on purpose.

"Everything checks out," Hamish assured Aureo as he took the id-scanner back. "Welcome on board. Sherin will take you to your cabin and later hand out your assignment."

Aureo loathed to admit it, but he was confused. "Excuse me. Who?"

Instead of answering, Hamish pointed behind Aureo. As he turned around to look, he had the fright of his life. Just a step behind his chair loomed a woman. Looking down at Aureo with an unreadable expression. No, woman wasn't quite right. As his heart calmed down again, he noticed details. She wasn't quite natural. An android. Aureo had never seen one before, but this must be it. The East American Commonwealth wasn't the most advanced. Neither in technology or magiology. In fact, magic, in general, was frowned upon. As a result, an android walking these lands was quite unheard of.

"I see." Aureo stood up and gave Mister Neville the best bow he could manage under such cramped circumstances. "I thank you for your time and this opportunity. I won't take much more of it. Hopefully, I haven't delayed the train's departure by very long."

Hamish gave him another chuckle. "Oh, don't worry, dear Aureo. This train left the station the moment you closed that door."

Aureo was flabbergasted. He didn't know much about trains, but could this monstrously large engine get thousand or more wagons moving without him noticing? Aureo had expected the squeal of gears and wheels. A jerk when the train first overcame the resistance preventing motion and actually started to roll. But he felt and heard none of that.

Instead of commenting, Aureo gave another bow. Sometimes it was better to stay quiet and not embarrass oneself further. Leaving the small cabin, he followed Sherin the android. She was of the silent type too. Just like the engine that pulled this train along. He could barely hear her footsteps.

"Most wagons have three levels." For an android, she had a very melodic voice. Not what Aureo expected at all. "Most wagons have a layout that reserves partially or all of the lowest level for the train's staff. As you are part of it, it is expected that you use these routes. In your free time, you can partake in the entertainment that is usually reserved for our paying customers. However, only as long as you do not take up a place reserved for them and as long as you are presentable."

In other words, Aureo better clean up and not run around in work clothes that were drenched in sweat. Not that he had any other kind at the moment.

Following Sherin, Aureo got a quick tour. Limited to the briskest outline. They passed one wagon that served as a kitchen and cafeteria for the staff. It reminded Aureo that he hadn't eaten since breakfast. After a few more wagons dedicated to staff, they arrived at their destination.

"This will be your cabin."

Peeking in, Aureo saw a small compartment. One bed. A small desk and chair. A few spaces to stow belongings. Aureo suspected they would stay empty for a while. However, the cabin was clean and tidy. In addition, it was for only one person. Aureo didn't have to share accommodations. It was more than he had expected.

"At the end of the hallway to the left is this wagon's community bath," Sherin continued and pointed down-train. "I'd suggest you use this facility immediately as it is currently free. By the time you are done, I will have a set of a uniform in your size."

"Thank you," Aureo replied a little too late. Sherin was already on the move. Shrugging, Aureo followed the directions. The community bathroom was small but had to his surprise a bath. One he sorely needed. Locking the door, he stripped out of his filthy garments and ran a bath. One quite hot. Another luxury he hadn't expected.

Just slipping into the water gave his aching muscles relief. More than one sigh escaped him. Never had a bath felt this good in his life. For a while, Aureo closed his eyes and soaked. Enjoying the warmth.

A faint click made Aureo think someone had opened the door. Although he was sure he had locked it. A glance over the shoulder revealed it was still shut.

"Must have imagined it." With his nerves frayed as they were, he wouldn't put it past himself. Just as he was about to relax again, a few details caught his attention. For one, his clothes were gone. And on a nearby small counter was a stack of neatly folded dark green clothes with silvery accents. Peeking over the rim of the tub, Aureo even spied a pair of polished shoes. They even looked his size.

"That sneaky-" Aureo cut himself off. If that Android could slip into the bathroom without him detecting it, who knows what else she'd be capable of. It was better not to run his mouth. The whole incident also reminded him that he wasn't here for leisure. It reminded him to grab a brush and soap, and attack his body vigorously.

A quarter-hour later, Aureo felt like a man again. Dressed in his new uniform - which fit perfectly - he was ready to face the world again. Opening the door, Aureo made an involuntary step back. Sherin. She was right there. Waiting inches in front of the door.

The android gave him a quick glance all over. "Now he looks the part. Excellent." For the first time, she gave him any sign of human emotion. A bright smile. It even looked genuine. Aureo wasn't sure he liked it.

"Shall we?"

Aureo swallowed his nervousness down. "Lead the way."

---

It's been a month since Aureo joined the Neville Express and to his surprise, he liked it here. At any point, he could have left. By now there was half a continent between him and the syndicate that wanted him dead.

Why he stayed was a little hard to pinpoint for Aureo. The pay wasn't bad. The fellow staff was friendly. He even could imagine them growing as tight as a surrogate family. Even the work was nice. Nothing too complicated, but wagons were complex. A lot could break and needed regular maintenance. Aureo rarely did the same work twice a week.

The only drawback he could see was the tight environment. Wagons were about forty meters long and varied in width between four and six meters. Most had three floors. It sounded like a lot, but in practical terms, it wasn't much space. Every living space had to make do with some compromises. Slowly, Aureo got used to that too. What he didn't get used to was Sherin. That sneaky android was vexing him to no end. He could talk to her and then walk down or up-train at a brisk pace for a few hundred wagons and she still could manage to arrive before him. And he doubted he could ever get used to her being so sneaky.

But Sherin wasn't the only mystery this train had to offer. Today's job assignment was a good example. He had received a long list to be filled out. Going to each wagon personally and speaking to the responsible staffer if anything needed to be fixed or early maintenance. Except for a good third of the wagons were missing on the list. When Aureo asked, he got a confusing reply: "Those don't break. Never need maintenance too."

Aureo shrugged it off. If that was the assignment, then he would do it. With a little exception. Wagon four hundred thirty-two was dear to his heart. With a small smile he couldn't suppress, he climbed the small spiral staircase that led to the showroom of the wagon. The afternoon show was in full swing. On stage was an older gentleman - Aureo guessed a good decade older than Mister Neville - who performed feats of "instinctive manipulation of the quantum field". Also called "magic" by the uneducated or ignorant. Small tricks and spells dazzled the two dozen people in the audience. At its center was "The Fantastical Magician Lahovary". Who performed amazing feats one after another.

Though noteworthy, the show wasn't what made Aureo's heart beat faster. It was the assistant's flash of a smile as she spied him. Mirela had captured Aureo's heart without resistance. She was just perfect. Maybe a little too much for this world. Not that Aureo minded.

Quietly, he waited at the end of the room. The exclamations of excitement from the audience when Mister Lahovary performed another miracle washed past Aureo. His eyes were riveted onto Mirela who helped out on the small stage and took over narration if the magician needed to concentrate.

At last, the show ended and Aureo was elated as Mirela made her way over to him. Past the audience that gathered around the old magician to get autographs.

"Mister Testa." Mirela's voice was music to his ears. "What can I do for you?"

"Aureo. Please," he gently corrected her. "And I was just about to ask the same."

Mirela looked confused. A minuscule frown that somehow made her even more attractive to Aureo. "I am sorry. We usually don't need anything. So, I am a little lost by your offer."

"Well, you see." Aureo suddenly felt a little more nervous. A bit foolish too. "I am making the rounds and taking stock of which wagon needs repairs or maintenance."

"Ah." Mirela gave him a nod of understanding. "There must be a mistake with your list. This wagon doesn't need either."

"No, the list is correct." As Aureo saw another frown appear on Mirela's face, he corrected himself double-time. "Your wagon isn't on it. But I thought asking couldn't hurt, right? I mean surely sometimes something breaks, right? Or a door needs a bit of oil to open properly. A light bulb needs-"

"Oh, Aureo. That's sweet of you." The smile of amusement on Mirela's face might have ticked off Aureo on any other person. But combined with her reaching for his arm made it all worth it. "I guess no one explained to you that this is a Manteriantus Wagon."

Now it was Aureo's turn to be confused. He never heard of such a thing. And, as usual, he tried to play it over with humor. "Bless you?"

"Very funny," Mirela replied in a voice that hinted at not a hint of amusement in the joke, but appreciation for the effort. "Alright. I'll explain it to you. Neville might be a better choice for the details, but by now I think I can relay the basics with some authority."

"I am all ears." Not that Aureo really cared for the lecture. But he liked spending time with Mirela. Finding out about the mysterious wagons that are impervious to damage was a nice bonus.

"You see this wagon is magic." When the sentence didn't invoke the desired reaction in Aureo, Mirela looked around and then leaned over to him to whisper. "As in real magic. Or applied manipulation of the quantum field or whatever you want to call it."

"Oh!" What else was Aureo to say? Though, after a few moments, some questions came to his mind. "I guess the wagon fixes whatever is wrong. But how does it know what to fix?"

"Good question." She even gave him another smile that threatened to melt his heart. "You see, Manteriantus Wagons need a person - or more specifically a soul - to bind to it."

"You are connected to it?"

"About fifty-five years ago a young magician with great aspirations needed a little cash to restart his show. First, he took a job on this train. Just like you. That man was Caius Lahovary." Mirela stepped to the side and with perfect timing revealed the old magician who gave a bow with a flourish to Aureo from across the room. "When he heard of Neville's generous restoration offer, he couldn't resist. He became bound to this very wagon. It is now an extension of himself. As am I."

Aureo frowned. "You?"

"Aureo, you do know I am an android, right?"

"Android?" Even hearing Mirela say it, Aureo had a hard time believing such a fact. She looked human. He could see the fine pores on her skin. Her slight breathing. The way her eyes adjusted to the light. It all was human. Felt human. Beautiful in every way. A work of art. Aureo developed doubt. Maybe she wasn't as natural as he thought. Rather than being blessed with beauty at birth, she might be sculpted by someone.

"Oh, right. Sometimes I forget." Mirela acted like she hadn't just shattered Aureo's worldview. "Sometimes I still see this body as to when I first got it. It wasn't one provided by Mister Neville. Rather, I was found on a scrap heap. You wouldn't believe how I looked back then. All exposed metal and even some loose wires. Quite embarrassing in hindsight."

Slowly, all the information tickled through Aureo's brain. It was a lot to stomach. Not just that Mirela was an android. If what she said was true then she wasn't at all what he thought she might be.

"So, in other words, you are Caius?"

"Oh, goodness, no!" Mirela exclaimed but was quick to elaborate. "You see, when Caius activated me, he did so with a purpose in mind. I was to be his assistant. And he gave me a personality to match. Granted, it evolved. My personality became more nuanced, but my core values remained the same. We do share information, but how we act on them is different."

"I think I understand," Aureo admitted. It had certain implications and in a way, he was curious to know more. But it also put Mirela into a new perspective. He wasn't quite sure how to feel about it yet. Mirela was the creation of Caius. How much control did he still have over her? Glancing over at the old man, Aureo voiced a different concern. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but what happens to you when Caius passes away? I don't mean to offend you, but he looks old. Frail. Honestly, I can't believe he still does those shows."

"Oh, I will continue to exist. This wagon needs a soul to function and a soul needs a body. Normally if a person dies the soul has no more home and moves on. But I am a body capable of tethering a soul. And Mister Neville probably would add that this wagon in itself is capable of it too." Mirela gave it a sigh. "But to be honest, I have feared Caius passing away for years now. I did everything I could to postpone the inevitable. Yet it is bound to happen. Sooner rather than later, I fear."

"What will you do when it happens?" Aureo wanted to know. Fascinated by this strange creature before him. "Will you take over the show?"

"I thought about it a lot," Mirela admitted. "I could. Or I could ask Mister Neville for a new android body. Replace Caius in a way, but that seems wrong too." She gave a sigh that sounded so human that Aureo's heart begged to forget she was an android. "Maybe I should start something new. I was part of this show for decades. And decades still lie ahead of me. I can change. So can this wagon. Whatever I decide, it will change to accommodate it."

"That is a lot," Aureo said aloud. Wondering himself what he meant by that. Was it all the information he had to absorb in such a short time, or the fate that awaited Mirela and Caius? "I need to get going. Work, you know? Talk to you soon."

"Of course," Mirela said with a small nod and a glint of sadness. But she straightened up a moment later. "See you soon."

Walking away, Aureo had a lot on his mind. Did his feelings for Mirela change now that he knew she was an android? They certainly felt more muddled and complex. He needed time to untangle this mess. But should he still pursue her? Was she even interested in him? She certainly displayed emotions, but could she fall in love?

His mind circled the same questions all day. Even late into the evening. Sitting in the small employee cafeteria, he had stirred the same mug of chocolate for hours. By now, he had concluded his feelings for her were real. Hers might be true too. But if they were - and if she had any for him - where did it leave him?

They could live happily together for years. Decades even. But he would age and she wouldn't. Just like her creator, she would outlive him. That was in a way very sad to him. Mirela was for all purposes immortal. It ashamed Aureo that this fact made him hesitate. For he wasn't sure if he could stomach living beside someone who wouldn't age a bit, while he became older and frail.

Giving a deep sigh, Aureo pushed off the table. Might as well empty that mug and call it a night. Yet he froze mid-movement. A faded flyer pinned to the cafeteria's blackboard caught his eye. Curious, he walked closer.

It was an offer of employment. Limited for six months. It involved linking with one of the Manteriantus Wagons in poor condition. Giving it a soul so it could repair itself. Aureo recognized this offer as the same that Caius took all those years back.

"Why would they offer a temporary contract when the soul binding is permanent?" Aureo muttered under his breath.

"The connection is breakable if done in time."

Aureo jumped aside at the sudden voice beside him. He had thought he had been alone, but that damn Sherin stood right beside him. The sneaky android had done it again.

Not wanting to give the android more food for amusement, Aureo collected himself. Right. If anyone knew about this stuff then it was Mister Neville's right hand. "And in time equals to- ?"

"Normally, it takes about a year for a soul to bind irrevocably to a Manteriantus Wagon," Sherin volunteered. "However, this is an estimated time and can vary between each person. To bind fully within a half year is rare. We would offer an early exit of the contract if this was the case."

Aureo glanced back at the flyer. He didn't like the prospect to end up like Caius, but then again he wouldn't have to. Just six months. No more. The half a million dollars it promised as a payout was what really caught Aureo's attention. It was enough to start a new life anywhere. Even overseas. There, the Cortez syndicate was sure to never find him.

"Should I mark you down as interested?"

Aureo slowly turned around to Sherin. Not knowing that the next word would change his life forever. "Yes."

---

The next morning, Mister Neville showed up while Aureo had breakfast. Together they made the trip down-train. Past passenger, employee, and cargo wagons. It was quite a walk. Aureo was even a little winded. Not so Hamish Neville. The older gentleman looked fit for his age. He certainly showed Aureo that one could do better.

"It is not much to look at," Neville said as they reached the first rundown Manteriantus Wagon. "But it has everything it needs to come back alive and be great. Provided a caring soul takes charge."

Aureo had his doubts. The wagon wasn't much more than rusted skeletal ribs of steel on an undercarriage that had seen better days. It was a wonder it didn't fall apart. Especially as it was the first of the rundown wagons and over a hundred tailed this one. Aureo couldn't fathom how much force this wagon had to withstand to not be pulled apart.

"And magic can fix all this?" Aureo asked. Not even trying to mask the doubt in his voice.

Hamish gave him a fatherly smile. "You just walked through a dozen of Manteriantus Wagons that had been off worse, yet you didn't notice."

Aureo still had his doubts. But for half a million, he certainly was willing to try. "So, where do I start? Actually, how do I start?"

"Over here," Neville said and walked casually over the rotten floor. Stepping over gaping maws of rusted holes that showed the train track below them rush past.

Aureo was a lot more careful traversing the minefield of deadly pitfalls. There was no doubt that he wouldn't survive falling through any of them. It took Aureo five minutes to arrive at the junction box where Neville waited for him at. Thankfully, it was bolted to one of the beams that looked less rusted and solid enough to grab onto and cling to as if his life depended on it. Which it might actually do.

Opening the junction box revealed a surprisingly pristine and clean interior. It didn't house a lot. A large crystal and a few cables, of a type, Aureo had never seen before, connected to it.

"Just place one of your hands on the crystal and wait until it feels warm under your touch."

Aureo was reluctant to let go of the beam. Even if one hand remained on it. Yet the sooner he got this over with the sooner he could return to solid land. He hoped. The crystal felt cold to his touch. Not freezing, but lower in temperature than it had any reason to be. It did take a while. Aureo guessed about fifteen minutes until he couldn't feel a difference in temperature between his hand and the crystal.

"I think this is it."

"Hmm, yes," Hamish agreed. He looked amused. "Interesting. You were a good chunk faster than the average. Not the fastest, mind you, but remarkable nonetheless."

Aureo liked compliments as much as the next person, but right now was not the time for them. "Was that it? Can we return there now?" He pointed at the entrance to the last cargo wagon. The last remnant of solid, non-treacherous, ground.

"Of course," Neville said, before returning there at a casual pace. Not clinging to anything. For Aureo it looked like some kind of magic. Maybe the equivalent for sea-legs, just for trains. As Aureo made the journey too, Hamish continued. "Now the next step is quite easy. Just spend time with the wagon while being close to it. Your subconscious mind will do the rest. Grab something to read if you will. It takes time. But if you are impatient, you can try meditating. That helps speed it up a little."

"I'll give it a try," Aureo promised.

"Good. Good," Neville said while nodding sagely. "I'll come by in a week. See how much progress you made."

Saying their goodbyes, Aureo took stock of his new project. It really was in an abysmal state. Normally, he fixed things with his hands too. Not just with his mind.

"Now, don't get too attached to this wagon," Aureo joked to himself. "Wouldn't wanna get stuck, right? No matter how tempting this view looks."

If he looked to the side - and didn't pay attention to the wagon - the view was actually nice. The area they traveled through was sparsely populated and most of it was untamed. It made for a great panorama.

Sitting down on a spot where crisscrossing beams and metal nearly amounted to a floor, Aureo closed his eyes. It was to meditate and kick this into high gear. The sooner he got this done, the earlier he could leave a rich man. If he wanted to. There still was Mirela on his mind.

She wasn't the only thing that hindered his concentration. Now and then he had to peek at the landscape. It was beautiful. If only he didn't have to squint as much. It was summer and there was barely a cloud in the sky. It left him exposed to the sun.

By noon, he got the hang of it. Though sometimes he still fought to not nod off. Thankfully, some piece of roof blocked the sun just right, so it didn't blind him anymore. Glancing up, it really looked small. Just barely enough to provide his eyes relief. But there was something else to it. Nothing of the roof had survived, save spokes of metal frame and this small rectangle. Which made the small sheet of metal stand out more. Surprise filled him as he concluded that the material looked new. Not rusted at all. Which made him wonder, had it been there when he had started meditating?

Mister Neville had said the wagon would respond to his subconscious mind. Said mind had been annoyed by the glaring sun. It had to be. Aureo had willed this tiny chunk of metal into existence. And if he could do that, what else could he do?

Priorities. Aureo had to itemize what was important. A roof over his head would be nice to escape the sun, but overall not urgent. No matter what his subconscious said. Removing some of the rust could be good. Less chance to cut himself on some sharp fragment and catch tetanus or something worse.

No, the most important spot was right under Aureo's butt. He needed a floor. If nothing else then for the safety of his mind. And body too. Right now, the wagon was a rolling deathtrap. Aureo had to change it as soon as possible.

Once again, he focused inward. Imagining the wagon as it was now and willing to change. He could envision it. New metal sprouting and slowly spreading. Covering up the many holes of the undercarriage.

"How is it going?"

Aureo nearly jumped from his seat. Looking around, he spotted Mirela. But the view behind her was more worrying. Darkness was falling.

"Yes, it is evening already," Mirela confirmed. "Time can fly if working on a Manteriantus Wagon. I know you didn't eat dinner. People told me. But did you eat lunch?"

Now reminded, Aureo's stomach growled. "I guess not. Really lost my time there."

"Come on," Mirela urged Aureo and helped him get up. "Time to get you something to eat. It is important. Don't neglect it. And be patient. It takes a while to get started with a Manteriantus Wagon. Don't prioritize it over everything else."

"I will," Aureo promised. "But I did manage this." Pointing up to the small rectangle of the roof. However, at twilight, it was hard to make out. "A little bit of new metal up there."

"Cool," Mirela said. "Now come eat."

"Alright." Aureo really could eat, he decided.

As they entered the next wagon, both failed to see the shiny new spot of metal flooring. Right at the spot where Aureo had sat.

---

"That is quite the progress, Mister Testa." Hamish Neville sounded impressed.

"It is just a third of the floor," Aureo said to play it down. Bragging was something he detested. Even if he did something extraordinary himself.

"Aureo." Just his name spoken by Neville somehow sounded like praise but also chiding for childish behavior. "Some can't manage a third of a floor in a month. Let alone a week. You are really gifted."

"Thank you," Aureo replied while staying humble. But part of him being proud still slipped through. "To be honest, I was just motivated to have something preventing me from falling to my death. Now, I can relax a little."

"It is good to set the right pace." Neville sounded positively fatherly. But it switched to motherly just a sentence later. "And you take care of yourself? Don't forget to eat and drink."

Aureo couldn't help but blush. "I have a lunch bag over there." He pointed to the brown paper bag that he conveniently forgot to mention was strapped to a metal beam since the day before. He reasoned it might be better not to mention that he hadn't touched the bag for lunch yesterday. Or forgotten to bring a new one today.

"Good. Good." Neville was in full father mode again. Or grandfather. "One needs the energy to accomplish great things."

"I'll keep that in mind."

---

"I brought you lunch."

Aureo blushed. "Thanks, Mirela."

Of course, she knew that he had forgotten to pack any. She didn't have to wait to see the guilty look on his face. How many times had he forgotten now? Just this week? Aureo feared the answer.

"Look." Aureo proudly pointed to the wagon below them. "I nearly got the floor done. After only three weeks."

"Don't change the subject. Geez, Aureo. I can see how cracked and cratered your lips are. Do you drink enough?"

"Yes," Aureo promptly said. Maybe a little too quick and forceful. "Mostly in the evening. After work."

"Aureo." Mirela sounded sad. "You have to take better care of yourself. The people around you can do only so much."

"I know. I know," Aureo said chastised. Mirela and Neville had a point. "It is just- There is so much potential. I hadn't realized how much, Mirela. It's like the wagon is made out of clay. Ready - eager - to be formed by me. Once I have the floor, walls, and ceiling done-" Aureo let out a pained sigh. "I have so many plans. And I can feel it. The magic can make it real. All of them. If I just had the wagon ready for it."

"Aureo. Listen to me." Mirela grabbed him by the shoulders and with a force that surprised him. "Look me in the eyes. This is important." She actually waited until he established eye contact and did not immediately break it again. "Answer me one question. Who is remaking this wagon?"

"I do? Or do you mean the magic-"

"Oh, you wanna get smart with me?" Mirela didn't sound playful. She was dead serious. "Who's doing it in a week? Or two? If you last that long. Who takes over once you are dead?"

Aureo was shocked. She might as well have hit him. That would probably have hurt less. He had skipped a few meals, but it wasn't that bad, right? Except she looked so serious.

"You are addicted, Aureo," she continued. "It happens. Some people just take to Manteriantus Wagons like that. I know how hard it can be to resist. Why do you think I fought so long and hard to keep Caius alive? But here is the deal, Aureo. I can't be there for both of you. Don't you owe it to yourself to see this through? If so, then you better start taking care of yourself."

Aureo stumbled backward as she let go. Landing painfully on his butt. He grasped for words, but none came. The instinct was there to deny all accusations. But he realized she was right. Maybe it was worse than he was willing to admit.

But Mirela didn't give him to come up with words. She turned around. Walking to the next wagon. Leaving him behind. But just as she was about to enter the cargo wagon up-train, she turned around a last time. "And Aureo. Take shower. Better yet, a bath."

It wasn't that bad, was it? Once Mirela was gone, Aureo took a whiff of himself. He nearly gagged. How could he not have noticed? A garbage can might smell nicer than him.

Mirela was right. This couldn't go on. Maybe he should go to Neville and quit. No, he was too far gone. But he could take Mirela's advice. It was time to face the consequences and get his act together. Starting with a bath. He really needed one. Or two.

---

"Marvellous progress. Especially for only two and a half months" Hamish Neville admitted as Aureo had led him into the wagon. "I don't think any of the other wagons have this many windows. Or as large ones."

"I enjoy the panorama a lot," Aureo admitted sheepishly. "If I am not meditating, I often just enjoy the view. That's why I have those large windows."

"That is quite alright," Hamish assured him. "Hmm, you extended the roof to the standard three-level layout of the other wagons, but there aren't any additional floors. Is that on purpose?"

Of course, Mister Neville had to point that out. "For now. I don't plan on adding full floors, but maybe a few platforms. I like it to remain open and connected."

"Feel free to do anything," Hamish said. "Seeing something new in my old age is quite refreshing. I remember when-"

Just then a loud buzzing sound interrupted. Aureo was quick to run into a corner where he stowed his stuff. Silencing the alarm. "Sorry. That's my reminder to drink. And eat. I tend to forget otherwise."

Neville gave him a generous chuckle. "It's a good system. I am glad you do take care of yourself. That can't be said for everyone who binds to a Manteriantus Wagon. You do look healthier."

"Thank you." While he could take the compliment as is, Aureo had to give credit where it was due. "I must admit, I needed a rather firm wake-up call provided by Mirela."

"She does care." Hamish Neville gave Aureo's wagon another once over. "I reckon, another month. Then we need to talk about how to proceed. You have taken to this task quite easily and I think we can end your task early. With the full payout, of course. But this doesn't have to be the end of it, Aureo. There are many more Manteriantus Wagons in need of care. When you break with this one, I wouldn't mind commissioning the next one."

Aureo was a little overwhelmed by the news. Just one more month to work on this wagon. Yet there was still so much to do. He had great plans for this wagon. Could he do it? Of course, Mister Neville was right. Technically, the wagon was refurbished. No rust or decay remained. Everything was in working order.

Two options unfolded before him. He could take the money and start a new life. That had been the original plan. But now, he wasn't so sure. There was Mirela. He quite cared about her. Yet they hadn't even started dating yet. Should he make a move? Of course, if he did, he had to stay aboard the train. He might as well accept another Manteriantus Wagon as commission. Yes, more money was tempting, but he also might work faster the second time. Now he knew how his mind could shape material through magic. Maybe he could realize his full vision in the next wagon.

"I will think about it," Aureo promised. He still had time. In a month, he might be more certain. And maybe he managed to finish this wagon after all."

---

"Come on. Come on," Aureo urged Mirela two weeks later. They were walking through the last cargo wagons before Aureo's.

"Slow down," she urged with an amused smile. "And I swear if you drag me out here just to show me that you change the floor yet again-"

"No. Well, yes, I changed the floor again. I had to see how the parquet looks with redwood lumber," Aureo sheepishly admitted. But quickly added more before Mirela could turn around annoyed. "But that is not why I got you. Besides, I don't think the redwood is working."

"Aureo!" Mirela exclaimed with a sigh. She was half-minded to turn around, but they already had reached his wagon. She might as well take a look.

Not much had changed. If one discounted the floor. The small cabin to the side had grown. She knew Aureo now slept on a small cot in it. She also spied three water bottles. One was empty and another halfway there. She even saw some wrappers that might have belonged to cafeteria sandwiches. Overall, a good sign.

"No. No. Here!" Aureo exclaimed while crouching beside a larger flower pot.

Bemused, Mirela walked over. "I must admit, I expected something more exciting than a pot, Aureo."

"Not the pot. This." He pointed to a small seedling that had pushed through the earth. "I wanted a pot, true. And the wagon made it real. But I haven't gotten around to planting anything yet. But something is already growing, Mirela. Isn't that amazing? Somehow, I created life!"

Mirela stifled an amused chuckle. Sometimes Aureo was just too cute. She crouched down before she enlightened him. "Aureo, what makes this wagon work is magic. You probably heard the sentence 'magic is all around us' before. But you have to understand that magic is everywhere on New Terra. It is all connected. If you wanted a plant to grow here then you didn't need to plant a seed. The magic, guided by your subconscious mind, would find one and make a copy for you. It is as easy as that."

Aureo remained quiet for a moment. Digesting the information presented. Just to burst out: "That is still amazing! You mean I can get any plant I want?"

This time, Mirela couldn't hold back. She chuckled out loud. "Yes, if you know about a plant, then you can will it into existence. It just takes practice to get the right one. Plants are pretty easy compared to other things."

"I always wanted plants," Aureo confessed while sitting down on the floor. "I grew up in a small house in the older narrower parts of New Boston. We didn't get much sunshine. So, every houseplant we tried didn't last long. Moving out, my apartment wasn't much better. And at work, I spend most of my time underground."

Mirela reached over. "Well, now you can have any plant you want," she assured him. She laughed. "As soon as you change the floor again. The redwood really clashes with your walls."

Aureo gave a chuckle in return. "I'll see to it."

Mirela stood up. "Sorry, I need to get going. The next show starts soon."

"I understand."

"One last piece of advice." She waited until she got his undivided attention again. "You might want to add some chairs or so. Sitting on the floor gets old pretty quick."

"Yes, Madam. As you wish."

---

Fascinated, Aureo watched another seedling that had broken ground. This was the eleventh pot he had conjured out of thin air. A feat that still amazed him. In a few more weeks, the wagon's floor might become crowded. Maybe then, he should add a proper second or even third floor.

Despite him being preoccupied with his plants, Aureo knew Mister Neville was about to enter. In a way, the connection between him and the wagon flowed both ways. He felt the wind flow over the roof and sides of the wagon. Felt the rail under the wheels. It was a new feeling. A strange one. Yet oddly right. If someone would ask him to describe it, Aureo would have despaired. There were simply no words to describe it adequately. At least, with his vocabulary.

Aureo turned around just as Mister Neville entered. Standing up straight, proud even, he walked over to his visitor. "Mister Neville, a pleasure to welcome you to my wagon. Are you here to check up on me."

"Aureo, please. You can call me Hamish." The supposed owner of the train looked around. He appeared to be impressed, yet Aureo still saw evidence of concern there too. "Aureo, we need to talk. A month has passed and it is time."

He had dreaded this day. Part of him wasn't ready to give up this wagon. It grew with each day. But he couldn't avoid this talk forever. Stepping aside, Aureo pointed to two of the new additions to his wagon. Two leather armchairs with a high backrest that could swivel. They were perfect to sit in and watch out of the large windows.

"Very nice," Hamish remarked as he let himself fall into one of them. A content sigh escaped and for a minute, both men enjoyed the view. But it couldn't last. One little sentence threw off the harmony of the situation. "Have you made your decision?"

"Not yet," Aureo admitted. "Do I have to? What is the rush? There are still things I try to accomplish with this wagon. I know. I know. I was only hired to refurbish it. But I have plans. This wagon could be so much more."

"It could be," Neville slowly agreed. As if he was reluctant to do so. "Provided you are willing to pay the price."

Aureo swallowed. Here he had hoped for a payday. A generous one. But if he wanted to fulfill his dreams for this wagon, maybe he had to let them go. Even take on debt. Once again, as always, it came down to money. "How expensive will it be?"

"Expensive? Oh, no. You misunderstood me." Hamish turned his armchair so he could look Aureo into the eyes. "I know Sherin has told you about the bond between a person - their soul - and the Manteriantus Wagon."

"It takes about a year, she said."

"But that is for ordinary people, Aureo. You are gifted. Rarely have I seen one like you. But being gifted is a two-edged sword. That you can influence the wagon to the degree you already did speaks that the bond has further progressed than usual at this time. Aureo, at your current speed, I fear you will have permanently bonded to the wagon before the six months would be up."

A price indeed. All this time Aureo had been proud of how fast he had progressed. The influence he now wielded was intoxicating. Up to now, he had only seen the good side. Now, Neville has revealed that there are drawbacks. And those came due faster than Aureo had anticipated. Yet Aureo still wondered.

"What does it entail? Being bonded permanently, I mean."

Neville gave a resolute nod. The kind one gave when someone else chose a path you predicted. It wasn't judgemental. Just an acknowledgment that one was right.

"You already feel it, don't you? By now the bond is strong enough. You don't want to leave this wagon. For short errands it is fine. But not for long. That will only grow." Neville leaned back. Gave Aureo a moment to digest before throwing even more his way. "You see, we humans grow up in a three-dimensional world. This is what your mind is used to. But our soul- That, Aureo, is a different beast. It is malleable. Can be stretched. It doesn't adhere to the laws of the physical world. One can be bound to a wagon and have their human body a continent away. But our mind, Aureo, does protest. It wants all of its parts close together."

"So, in time, I wouldn't want to leave anymore," Aureo concluded. "I'd be trapped here by my own mind?"

"In the beginning, yes. Which might range from a decade to a few. Maybe even a century. Those bound to a wagon, for them the boundaries melt away. Their human body, the wagon, and everything inside. It all becomes one. It takes time and practice to start separating those again. And even then, it is gradual. The distance they are willing to travel won't be much at the start."

Aureo opened his mouth, but words wouldn't come out. Why would anyone become bound on purpose? To be stuck in one place. Possibly forever. Aureo thought of Caius. The old magician who created Mirela. Had he never left the train since the bonding? Caius had grown old here on this train. That would be Aureo's future too. It was horrible.

Yet, there were parts of him that were intrigued. The Manteriantus Wagon gave as much as it took. Already, Aureo could summon seeds from the farthest reaches of this planet. What else could he do once fully bonded? He could get parts of the world inside his wagon. Whatever he needed.

"It should be a decision." The firm sentence pulled Aureo out of his musings. Neville had steel in his eyes. The normally kind look had vanished. Hamish looked serious. Extruded it. "A bond should never be by accident. Yet it has happened too often. Aureo, if you contemplate this, you have to be sure. There is still time to break your bond. I wouldn't hold it against you. Nor if you felt that you couldn't take on another Manteriantus Wagon."

It was the logical choice to break now, Aureo knew. Take the money and go. Start a new life somewhere. But the alternative was surprisingly tempting. He felt like walking on the edge of a cliff. To his one side was safe ground and he ought to head there. For the longer he balanced on the edge the higher chance there was to fall into the abyss on the other side.

"I need more time," Aureo admitted. "You said there is still some, right? I've only been at it for three and a half months. There's got to be time left. Maybe two weeks or four."

Mister Neville gave a sigh. "That will only make it harder, you know? Okay. Two weeks. But I need you to do something in return."

"Anything," Aureo promised.

"We learned the hard way that someone bonding permanently needs an android by their side. The final stretch can be stressful for the human body. You need someone to take care of you when that time comes." Neville reached over to give a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder. "If the time comes. But an android has to be taught first. That's why I want you to head to wagon six today or tomorrow. Sherin will wait there and help you decide between one of those we have stored. That is important, Aureo. Do not put it off."

"I will go there later," Aureo promised, but then reconsidered. Lately, he hadn't been that good at remembering things. Not on time at least. Working on the wagon was too interesting. "No, I better go now."

"Good. I shall escort you then." Hamish Neville gave out a fatherly chuckle. "Least you get lost and wander off."

---

They parted ways at wagon six. Aureo hesitated before the door. He had never been inside of wagon six. Gone through it, sure. Every wagon had some passageway leading from one end to another. But the proper interior had been closed off as far as he remembered. The whole wagon looked sturdy. As if it was a small fortress. The door he now stood before wouldn't have looked wrong on a submarine or warship.

Just as he raised his hand to knock, the door opened by itself. Instinctively, Aureo stepped back to let through who was exiting, but no one appeared. A little spooked, it took Aureo a moment to actually peek inside.

It could have been from a horror movie. In the dim light, he saw bodies stacked on tall shelves that spanned the three floors of the wagon. He recognized them as androids. Some were more convincing as humans than others. It still was eerie.

Slowly, Aureo stepped inside. Making his way further in, he saw workstations and machinery lining the walls. Probably to service the androids. Aureo was no stranger to workshops, but most tools here looked sophisticated and beyond the usual scope. Certainly on a higher technological standard than was available in the East American Commonwealth.

Of the many androids, one looked familiar. Sherin sat in a chair at the far end of the wagon. However, she didn't move. Starring blank-eyed into empty space without blinking. Had she been deactivated? Maybe she was here for maintenance.

Relaxing slightly, Aureo looked around. "Hello? Anybody here?"

"There you are!" Aureo jumped in place and then turned to see Sherin right there. Electronic clipboard in hand and definitely not sitting in the chair anymore. "Silly, git. Why haven't you turned up the light, Mister Testa? Human eyes aren't used to the dark like an androids. I would have recognized sooner that I hadn't been alone here."

"I-" Confusion and anger battled within Aureo. That stupid android had done it again. He had known she had been here and still, she managed to scare the heck out of him. As his heart started to slow down, reason returned to his thoughts. It probably wouldn't do him good to wring that stupid android's neck. Figuratively or literally. He had to compose himself. "Mister Neville sent me."

"I know. To pick up an android." With a flick of her hand, the lights of the wagon turned bright. "Have your pick. You may choose one."

Now that Aureo could actually see, it wasn't any less eerie. In the dim light, his mind had imagined things where his eyes had failed to provide details. Now, Aureo was stuck in a slaughterhouse for androids with one that terrified him. For every android on the shelf that appeared complete, body parts and components for two more were scattered around.

To hide his nervousness - or just to break the silence - Aureo asked the first thing that came to his mind. "So, every Manteriantus Wagon has a companion android?"

"Everyone. Hamish insists on it. Though some older wagons chose to get additional ones."

Aureo was about to ask what Sherin meant when he remembered Mirela. She had mentioned thinking of getting a new android when Caius passed away. To keep the show going. It was a chilling thought. If he passed away, would his soul stay behind? Caught and shared by the wagon and whatever android he chose? Mirela certainly thought so.

Maybe that's why Mister Neville had sent Aureo to get an android. To get a feel for the permanence. Nothing was forever, but a self-repairing wagon could last a long time. A small eternity. Not for Aureo himself, but for his soul. The question was what that actually meant. In practical terms.

He could ask. Sherin was right there. Evenly returning his gaze. Aureo chickened out. Perhaps, part of him didn't want to understand. Maybe it was better not to know.

Aureo turned away. Overthinking might be bad. Best to stick to the easy stuff. Choosing an android. But which one? Maybe Sherin could shed a light on it. Find out what her maker's reasoning had been for making her a frightful stealthy ninja who liked to scare people out of their wits. Just, maybe, formulated a little more tactfully.

"So-" Aureo let his eyes roam over the androids on the shelves. Trying to act and sound nonchalant. "You are one of those companion androids, right? Part of a Manteriantus Wagon."

Sherin smiled at him. It was a knowing smile. One with the promise that said she knew more than him. It lingered just a little too long. Then, quite clearly and carefully, she said one word: "No."

It stopped Aureo's line of thought and inquiry dead in its tracks. It had been a rhetorical question. Because he had been sure to know the right answer. Now, he was left hanging and quite unsure how to proceed. What vexed him, even more, was that Aureo could swear there had been more to this simple "no". As if she had snuck by a whole elephant of hidden meaning behind his back.

In the following awkward silence, Aureo turned around again. Inspecting all the available androids. They appeared to be in various stages of sophistication and human mimicry. None of them came even close to Mirela in lifelikeness. Not even to Sherin who clearly read as an android. Some were all-metal, while others sported plastics and composite materials. A few had, what Aureo might think of as, cheap fake skin. More for the giving the sense of something soft than passing as real.

"Which one would you recommend?" Aureo asked in the hopes of getting a point to start with.

"They are all equally suited for your needs," Sherin said. And just as Aureo thought this cryptic answer was all he got, she had to add something more. "In the long run."

Maybe Aureo had asked the wrong question. He tried again. "I mean, their programming has to be different, right? Is there any of these better suited to - for example - taking care of plants?"

"None of these have any software installed. Not even firmware." Expecting no elaboration, Aureo opened his mouth but was cut as she added more. "Just place the one of your choosing inside your bound wagon. In time, the wagon will treat it as an extension of itself. This means it can be manipulated and changed like any other object belonging to the wagon. In other words, by you."

"I just think about what I want it to be and it will become it?" Aureo asked. Only seconds later he remembered. Mirela had said as much, didn't she? That Caius had found her as scrap. All metal and lose wires. That he had remade her to his liking. How else than by the means of the Manteriantus Wagon could Caius manage this feat? Mirela even had said that the basis of her personality was set by him a long time ago.

"To put it simply, yes," Sherin confirmed. "However, selecting an android physically closer to the desired outcome can shorten the required time."

Time. Aureo wasn't sure he wanted less of it. Mirela came to his mind again. He wanted to be with her. Not replace Mirela with someone else. That ruled out any even vaguely female android. Aureo reckoned the temptation of his subconscious mind would be too much.

A male android? Aureo thought about it. What could he do with that? His first instinct was to go for a fatherly figure. Like Mister Neville. But what was a fatherly figure without years of experience to draw from? Not to mention that he might create - purely by accident - a caricature of the train owner.

A friend? Aureo didn't even know what kind of friend he wanted or needed. And what then? Drink beer and gossip all day. Stuck inside the wagon. Never going out. Aureo couldn't envision it.

Maybe a butler. The android was supposed to take care of Aureo when he needed it most. But Aureo dismissed the notion immediately. What would Mirela think if he got another android for a clearly subservient role? Not a good sign for any future relationship. Not to mention it might upset the Order Of The English Butlers. One of those Pop-Religions that New Terra had fostered. Based on popular culture from old Earth. Aureo could never understand it.

"That one," Aureo decided. Pointing to an android without distinguishing features. It hadn't any features suggesting male or female traits. It was metal and bare bones. Not even a face. The two sensors on its head could barely count as eyes. It would take time to mold it into anything resembling a human-like android. This made it perfect for Aureo.

"A blank slate," Sherin commented. "Harder, but more rewarding in the end."

Aureo chose to not reply. Instead, he looked forward to returning to his wagon. He just had to figure out how to move that lump of metal back there. They really could have included basic programming in his opinion. Then it could have walked there by itself.

---

Aureo sighed at the view. Currently, the Neville Express snaked along the Pacific coastline. Giving him a fantastic view of an ocean discolored by sunset. It was magical. Now and then, he grabbed for the sandwich he got from the cafeteria or the tea, which was cold by now. Not that he minded.

Even if he closed his eyes, Aureo felt harmony. Maybe it was the sweet scent of the flowers around him. They had blossomed the day before. Since then, the feel of the whole wagon has changed. Subtle, but noticeable.

A lazy smile grew on his face as Mirela neared. Not only could he feel her coming close to his wagon, but he could open the automatic door for her. With just a thought. It amazed Aureo. The wagon and him really became one.

"Taking a break?" Mirela asked as she entered.

Aureo waited with his answer until Mirela had taken the seat beside him. "How could I not?" He gestured to the magnificent sunset beyond the panoramic windows. "That's the life, Mirela. I finally feel at peace."

"It sounds like you have made up your mind."

"I do. I will- Hey!" No wonder Mirela's voice had sounded stuffed. She had taken a bite of his sandwich. Probably even two. "Aren't you always telling me I should regain a few pounds? How am I supposed to do that if you snatch away my food?"

Yes, androids ate. At least sophisticated ones like Mirela. Not that she needed to. It was purely for pleasure. Aureo doubted his own android could do it. It had not even a mouth.

"I thought you were finished," Mirela replied after swallowing. And taking a sip of his tea. "Urg, it is cold."

Aureo just gave her an amused look that said it was her own fault for stealing his food and drink. But he didn't voice it. Maybe they had skipped all that dating stuff. Mirela's behavior had the familiarity he always expected a wife would have. Someone who knew him and wasn't shy about being herself around him.

"Yes," Aureo confirmed the earlier topic. "I have decided to stay. To bond to this wagon. I was hesitant, you know. Being stuck in one place - probably for a long time - scared me. But now that I had time to think about it, it might not be so bad. I mean, the Neville Express is always traveling. I only got the same view through these windows if we stopped at a station for a day or two. There is always something new to see. Whatever I want from the outside, I can try to recreate it here. And some of the things I always wanted are already close to me."

Mirela's hand, as she reached over, was warm and soft. Just like a human's hand. If she hadn't spilled the beans, he would have never guessed. So what was the difference really? Aureo didn't care anymore. He just enjoyed the moment as they both shared the breathtaking view.

When darkness settled in, Aureo turned around. "Do you have to go soon? Taking care of Caius?"

"No. He's asleep." She suddenly looked around his wagon. "Speaking of companions, didn't Hamish assign you an android? Where is it?"

Aureo awkwardly pointed to a small little closet that extended from his cabin. "In there."

"Aureo!" She slapped his arm. Lightly, but not playfully. "Let's take a look."

"Wait!" But to his horror, she was already up and about. "Let me explain."

Mirela opened the door and stared at the featureless android stowed in a custom cradle. When Aureo stepped beside her, she asked: "What have you done with it so far?"

Aureo gave an awkward shrug. Maybe it wasn't best to treat a fellow android like this. He hoped he hadn't offended Mirela. "Not much,
yet. Built this closet. It's temporary. I'll build it something better and- Ouch!"

This time, Mirela slapped the back of his head. Not lightly either. It had actually hurt. "Aureo! You stubborn-" Mirela took a deep breath. "You just told me you decided to make the bond permanent, yes? Then you need to teach it. It can't learn in a closet. And especially if you don't spend any time on it."

Aureo rubbed the back of his head longer than was strictly necessary or common. "I don't know what to do with it."

Mirela took a deep breath. Ready to chide him once again. But she stopped mid-movement. Then let her breath out and looked around. "One job. A task." She turned back to Aureo. "Choose one simple thing it could do around here. Then, try to teach it. The rest will come naturally."

"I'm not sure that's-" Aureo stopped mid-sentence. Mirela started to look angry again. And human or android, one did best to not make a woman angry. Especially by being stubborn. "I'll try. Promise."

"You do that!" Then her features softened. "Get some sleep. Start fresh tomorrow."

He gave a nod and then, they said their goodbyes for the night.

---

Aureo dabbed away the last crumbs of scrambled eggs from his mouth with a napkin. With his breakfast done, Aureo leaned back and turned his armchair to look at the occupant of the other one. It didn't stare back. In fact, it didn't do anything. His companion was as devoid of programming as it had started out.

A task, Mirela had said. He had to find a task for it. There wasn't much to do in his wagon. More and more, it looked like a greenhouse on wheels. His only task, aside from meditating new things into existence, was to take care of his plants.

"Watering my plants!" Aureo exclaimed. "That's what you can do."

Of course, the android didn't answer. Neither did it react in any other way. Aureo broke the task into smaller steps. Get water. Check the plant's soil. Water those that needed it. Wait. Repeat. No, Aureo admitted he had to get into even more detail. The first step was to make the android stand up.

Aureo took a seat in one of the comfortable armchairs and closed his eyes. Trying to concentrate on one task alone. He knew it would take time, but he couldn't help now and then to just take a peek and see if the android did anything. Nothing.

Maybe two hours in, Aureo jumped out of his seat in shock as a large thud scared the hell out of him. Just a few meters further laid the android. Now, with its legs extended. Clearly, it had stood up. Only to immediately lose balance and fall over.

"That will take some time," Aureo murmured to himself while scratching his head.

But Aureo was no quitter. At sunset, his precious wood flooring had nine more deep scratches on its paneling. Testaments to the times he managed to get the android up, but not from staying so.

---

"That's a unique form of artistic expression," Mirela commented as she took a look at the one place in Aureo's wagon that was marred by dents and scratches on the floor.

He gave her a glare. Not amused by her attempt at humor. "It's that damn android. I can't get it to stand up properly. It always keels over. What you see there is just today's evidence. Each night I repair the floor of the past failures."

"So, your problem is to get it to stand upright?" Even if Mirela's question hadn't been rhetorical, Aureo wouldn't have answered. However, the next question surprised him. "Aureo, tell me, what prevents you from falling over?"

Aureo thought it over. "Well, I know how to keep myself balanced on an instinctual level." As Mirela only looked at him expectantly, he knew there was more to it. "Well, I think we humans have something in our ear or so. It tells us if we are off-balance or not."

"Would you be surprised if I tell you that androids have a sensor for that too?"

Aureo gave her a look that said "I am not stupid.", but instead he said: "Of course, they have. But that thing is not using it."

"Because it doesn't know how," Mirela said. "Think about it. Right now, it has no programming, right? If you tell it to stand up, you probably imagine the motions it has to go through. Which limbs move when. But at no point you access any of its sensors. Hence, it falls over."

Aureo scratched his chin. Only to stop annoyed, as there wasn't just stubble in the way, but a full beard. When did he shave last? Too long ago, he decided. "So, I should first learn to access its sensors?"

"That would be a good first step, yes."

"Alright. I'll give it a try. Right after-" Aureo scratched his head. There was something he meant to do first, but it already slipped his mind. Looking around, he spotted his lunch. "Right after grabbing a bite to eat."

"You do that," Mirela said. "See you later."

Waving after Mirela, Aureo grabbed his lunch and sat down in his favorite armchair. Lost in thought, Aureo barely tasted anything as he chewed on a sandwich baguette that had been intended for breakfast.

How does someone access a sensor of an android? Especially something less obvious like one dedicated to balance. Could he even do it? His mind drifted over to the wagon in general. There was a connection, he knew. Aureo could feel the wind drifting over the exterior. Felt the tension that rested on it as it was pulled and had to pull hundreds of wagons behind. But Aureo hadn't worked on these extra senses. They just appeared after a while. He doubted waiting until he experienced the same with the android was a viable choice.

Maybe he should go for something easy. One of the primary senses: vision and sound. The second one he ruled out quickly. There wasn't much to hear in the wagon. The plants didn't make noise. Only Aureo's chewing of dried-out bread broke the silence. Once he started meditating, that too would fade away. What would be left was the constant background noise of the wagon traveling on the rails. The faint squeak and squeal of the coupling to the next wagons. Most often, Aureo didn't even register it anymore. But that wasn't why he dismissed sound as a first step. How was he to differentiate between what he heard and what the android heard?

Vision was the obvious choice. Aureo would know when he was successful. The android clearly would have a different perspective. Gobbling down the last pieces of sandwich, Aureo got ready to give it a try.

At first, nothing happened. Of course, by now, Aureo knew that new things to try always took a while. Not letting himself get discouraged, he pushed on. At last, something flickered. A sudden view. He could see himself sitting on the armchair with closed eyes. Took in the rest of the wagon from a new perspective. After a moment, he even got the android's head to move around just like his own. But something wasn't right. Maybe the optical sensors of the android were defective or malfunctioning. The world looked dim through the robot's eyes. As if it couldn't process the available light enough. Maybe the android had fallen over one too many times. Whatever it was, Aureo knew he could fix it. Later.

Aureo slowly pushed the visual of the android away. Instead, opening his own eyes. What greeted him was a dim view. The wagon in twilight. Had he somehow pulled the defect from the android to his own body? The beeping of his alarm drew Aureo's attention. Right, he needed to eat. His stomach already growled angrily. Getting up to silence the alarm had Aureo pause and sway for a moment. For a moment, his blood pressure didn't play nice and he saw stars. He had definitely spent too long in the chair without movement.

But stepping to the alarm brought the next concerning surprise. Aureo could see it had beeped for a while. Over three hours. And he hadn't noticed. Looking out, he saw the last traces of the sun sinking below the horizon. No wonder it was getting dark in the wagon. The android's eyes hadn't been defective. Aureo simply had lost track of time again. Worse, this time he hadn't even reacted to the alarm. Too concentrated on shifting his perspective to the android. Aureo knew there might be danger there. If he couldn't rely on his current system to remind him of his basic needs, then he needed something else.

Shaking his head, Aureo made for the cafeteria wagon. Maybe with some new food in his stomach, he could come up with an idea.

---

It's been a busy day for Aureo. Looking through the eyes of the android had become easier. So much, that he had tried steering it from the inside. It was slow progress. There was still no sense of internal balance for that stupid thing. But from the android's point of view, Aureo could at least steer a little and blunt each fall. Of those, there were many. But he got better. By lunch, Aureo had managed to keep the android upright for a whole ten minutes.

Of course, not soon later, he got a whole new distraction. It was confusing at first. Suddenly, the android's view didn't make sense anymore. Colors were everywhere and they didn't conform to the physical shapes around them. Only careful consideration and experimentation revealed the true cause. Somehow, Aureo had switched to the magnetic spectrum.

In hindsight, it was logical that an android wouldn't be just limited to the normal human range of sight. Less confusing and more fun was the thermal view. It was in this mode that Aureo was surprised by his visitor. Aureo couldn't really interpret who it was by the thermal footprint alone, but it looked off to him. Then again, Aureo hadn't a lot of experience in that regard.

Switching into the normal mode revealed Mister Neville, who patiently waited at the entrance. Aureo would have sighed, but the android couldn't do that. It did not just lack a mouth, but also any form of a loudspeaker. Aureo took the time to sit down the android before shifting his mind's focus back to his real body.

Aureo stood up slowly. Blood rushed back into extremities barely used in the last few hours. This time, he was prepared for it. Only then, he turned to his guest.

"Mister Neville. Welcome. Have a seat, please."

"Hamish, Aureo. You can call me Hamish," the older man admonished while walking over. "I see you make progress with the android."

Aureo gave a chuckle. "The floor of my wagon begs to differ." The evidence was clearly carved and pounded into the floorboards.

"Then it is a good thing it is self-repairing, right?" But Neville sobered up fast. "Here we are again. No more delays, Aureo. I need an answer now."

Aureo swallowed hard. The average person doesn't have a lot of points in their lives when a decision changes things irrevocably. Aureo didn't have a lot so far. One had been his choice of job to pursue and the other which company to work for. Everything else had kind of snowballed until he was here. And this decision felt heavier than those before.

"I'll stay," Aureo finally said. He had thought about it a lot. By now, he couldn't imagine leaving the train anymore. Not as a real alternative. But there was more. "I've made up my mind to bond with this wagon."

Hamish gave a nod. One that wasn't really needed and only done for expectation's sake. "I guess it was inevitable. You took to the Manteriantus Wagon as a fish takes to water. Can't fault you for that."

"What happens now?" Aureo asked. He had made up his mind, but there were things he still dreaded. "Do I have to pay for this wagon?"

Hamish gave a heartfelt laugh. "Oh, no. Aureo, this wagon isn't just yours. It shares your soul. I can't own or demand anything for something that has a soul in it. That would be slavery."

"I guess so." Internally, Aureo let out a deep sigh of relief. The worries of the last few days ebbed away. He had thought Mister Neville was a decent sort of guy, but still, his mind had conjured up the worst possibility.

"It's like this," Hamish continued. "You travel with this train as long as you like. If you want to switch trains, that is up to you. I can't pay you any more for your regular work. For the foreseeable future, you'll be kind of stuck in your own wagon. That just comes with the territory. But if you prep up your wagon to fulfill a function within this train, you get a share of the profits. Which isn't exciting as it sounds. Sure, we earn quite a penny, but owners of a Manteriantus Wagon don't really have a use for it. Most donate it to charity."

"I see." Aureo mulled it over in his mind. Hamish was nearly speaking as if he too was bound to a wagon. "Are you one of them? An owner of a Manteriantus Wagon."

Hamish gave another laugh. "That is the wrong question, Aureo. But, no. I am not bound to a Manteriantus Wagon."

Well, that was a more cryptic answer than he had expected. He shelved the topic for now. Another question was more urgent. "What function would be needed for the train that my wagon could fulfill?" Aureo certainly hoped it wasn't something that would have him get rid of his plants or the large windows. He was quite fond of them.

The older gentleman gave a look around. "I don't see what is wrong with your current approach. Slap a few more seats in here and have some more plants. Have people just enjoy the view. It could be a little oasis of peace and tranquillity for guests and train personnel alike."

"Really?" Aureo's face lit up with joy. New ideas sprang forth. What plants or flowers to get. How to incorporate a second and third floor. "That sounds fantastic."

Mister Neville stood up and put a hand on Aureo's shoulder. "Now, don't rush yourself. You can take your time. It is best to pace yourself." He knocked on the closest window. "Remember, your human body is not nearly as resilient as a Manteriantus Wagon. It is easy to forget this simple fact. But you must not."

"I will," Aureo promised.

"Then I'll leave you to it." Hamish gave a nod and walked off. Leaving an eager Aureo behind who couldn't wait to get started.

---

Aureo's soup had gotten cold. For once, it had nothing to do with being preoccupied with his wagon. Or the android. It was the magnificent view outside that had done him in. New Terra certainly was a beautiful planet. Around New Boston, Aureo had never really witnessed it. The city had devoured the natural landscape like an unnatural beast. But most of New Terra was still unclaimed and untamed land. Despite the roughly ten billion people living on it.

"You might want to eat that before the sun dries it out into a paste," Mirela commented as she sat down beside Aureo. Startling him at the same time.

"What? Oh!" Aureo took a spoonful, only to wince. Maybe he should go into his small room and reheat it. This soup was definitely not enjoyable cold. "Got lost in the view. Have you seen those cliffs? That canyon was huge!"

"That's why they call it the Grandest Canyon," Mirela offered. "A little over the top in the naming department, but what can you do if the original on old Earth had already been called Grand Canyon."

"At least they didn't slap a 'new' before it like with every second town," Aureo remarked and drew a chuckle out of it from Mirela. "What brings you here?"

"Can't I check in on a friend?"

"Well, I made tons of progress," Aureo exclaimed. Jumping to his feet. Swaying only lightly and hoping Mirela wouldn't notice. "Lots more plants. Look! I even got that new rare breed of Japanese Spider Orchids I had told you about. And half of the second-floor platform is finished. Yes, I will keep most of it open. That way I can have larger plants here. Maybe even a small tree or two. I could also have some ivy climbing the walls and-"

Aureo stopped as Mirela was chuckling. "What?"

Mirela gave him a look. "I came here to check on you. Not your progress."

"I am fine," Aureo exclaimed, a little peeved. He was a grown adult. Not a little child needing supervision. Then again, he had been slipping lately. "I am eating enough and drinking regularly." Noticing Mirela's glance at the soup, he quickly added: "Maybe it is not always warm by the time I finish, but I always eat up."

"Alright. Alright." Mirela held up her hands to calm Aureo down. "Just needling a bit. Someone needs to keep you in check. At least, until you get your android going."

Aureo scratched his head. "Yeah-"

"Aureo, you need to get your android working," Mirela admonished him with a tone of voice that reminded Aureo too much of his third-grade teacher, Miss Leraby.

"I am working on it!" Then, calmer, he continued. "I am splitting my time. From dawn to noon I work on the wagon and from noon to evening, I try making the android work. It is just that changing the wagon comes more naturally to me."

"Well, you know, if you hadn't gotten such a basic model, you might have been further along." Then Mirela said what Aureo feared the most. "Can I see?"

"There isn't much to see," he said to downplay it a little. Trying to lower Mirela's expectations. Or even discourage her. But he knew her well enough to walk her to the small cabinet that housed the android and open it.

Mirela stated the obvious. "It has a mouth now."

"And a loudspeaker inside," Aureo added. "Though speaking through it is still kind of awkward. And I haven't gotten it to do anything by itself yet."

"That comes in time," Mirela assured him. "Keep remotely controlling it and the rest will come naturally."

She then took a step back and eyed the android critically. Making Aureo sweat with nervosity. Then she remarked on what he had feared the most. "The proportions are off. I think they have changed slightly. The waist is definitely slimmer. Kind of more female looking."

Aureo had noticed it too and had hoped Mirela wouldn't have. He still wanted a relationship with her. Despite being a chicken about it and never outright asking her out. And now this. Yes, his subconscious mind had started to shape the android into a woman. Right now, it was the barest hint. But what about in a week or a month? Maybe Mirela would think he'd replace her. Not that she was his, to begin with. But that he stopped pursuing her in favor of building someone for himself.

"Well- You see- It isn't like- That I-"

"Cool!" That one word stopped Aureo's ramblings short. "I wouldn't mind having a new bestie to hang out with."

Aureo nearly sank to the floor with relief. He felt as if the last ten seconds each had drained a year of his life. Were his knees always this weak? They felt kind of wobbly.

"Say, what made you go for a woman?"

A sentence later and Aureo was put on the spot again. Was Mirela doing it on purpose? "I don't know. Honestly. I wasn't trying to make it female. Well, maybe-"

"What?" Mirela slapped his arm playfully. "Come on. Don't hold out on me."

"Fine!" Just to gather his thoughts, Aureo walked back to the armchairs and let himself fall into one. "I told you that I grew up in New Boston, right?"

"And that you tried and failed to grow plans," Mirela confirmed.

"Well, there was one place where the narrow streets opened up and let sunshine fall through. Misses Brady's Bakery." A wistful smile came to Aureo. "When I was very young, my mother sometimes asked Misses Brady to look after me for a few hours. So, I hung around the bakery and did stuff. Sometimes even homework."

Aureo paused. Lost in the memory. "She had plants. Lots of them. A real oasis of green in a city built in grey. And in between customers, she always took care of her plants. Maybe watering them. Other times singing. And if not that, at least humming. I kind of envied her."

"I see." Mirela leaned back in her own chair. "Now you have plants of your own, your mind sort of thinks they need a Misses Brady to take care of them."

Aureo shrugged. "That is the best theory I can come up with."

Mirela stood up. "I think that is kind of sweet." She surprised him by leaning over and giving him a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for sharing this with me. But I need to go now."

"I understand," Aureo said while standing up. Waving after Mirela until she was gone. Only then he lightly touched the spot Mirela had kissed him on.

With new resolve and a spring in his step, Aureo walked back to the android's closet. "Are you ready?" he asked the occupant. "Because if Mirela wants a new best friend, we have work laid out before us."

---

Aureo only noticed the train moving again by looking out of the window. There was no jerk or any other indication. It still surprised him. He was also glad. Right now, he was remotely steering the android again. While he had gotten a lot better, he doubted sudden changes in movement would keep him upright.

It was about time the train got going again too. For the last four days, they had stopped in Nouveau Orleans. And while the city at the mouth of the river Mississippi was a sight, Aureo preferred the untamed wilds he usually saw through his huge panoramic windows.

Aureo was watering his plants when a young voice spoke up behind him. "Excuse me?"

Aureo made the android turn around. Before it stood a small girl. She wasn't his first visitor since Mister Neville had Aureo's wagon towed into the middle of the train. But she was the youngest by far. Normally, Aureo didn't do well with children. But now, he was determined to make a difference. The android would eventually learn from his behavior and Aureo was sure Mirela would prefer a best friend that got along with children.

Now Aureo had to figure out how to interact with a small child. What would Misses Brady do? She would kneel down so she would have eye contact with the child and then speak softly. Aureo mimicked it as best as he could in an android body.

"Yes? What can I do for you?"

"Are you a robot?" the girl blurted out in an unabashed way only small children could.

"I am," Aureo confirmed. Well, he wasn't really, but right now, he steered one. So, it was a white lie he could live with. "A humanoid robot. Do you know what they are called?" The girl shook her head. "They are called androids."

"What does an android do?" the girl wanted to know next.

"That depends from android to android." Aureo could see that the answer wasn't what the girl hoped for. Or maybe just too abstract for a young mind. "This android takes care of the plants around here. For example, I water them so they grow strong and beautiful."

"Can you tell me about them?"

"Of course, I can." Aureo led the girl to a display of colorful flowers. "These are all native flowers from Panama. To be specific, from the northern part. They are called orchids. Aren't they beautiful?"

"Yes, they are!" the girl exclaimed. But her attention was already drawn in by the next flower. "Why is that one caged?"

Aureo chuckled. It sounded slightly wrong from an android body, but the girl didn't seem to mind. Aureo walked towards a pale bluish-white flower that was growing under a glass dome and motioned for the girl to follow. "This is a rare flower growing in the Himalayas. I can't pronounce the original name, but it translates to Frozen Tears. You see, they grow where it is very high up in the mountains and where it is icy cold. So, under this glass, it is cold too. That's how they like it."

The girls made Oh's and Ah's, but Aureo had no doubt half of the explanation went over the little girl's head. Still, the young girl looked at the flower from all angles until something new caught her eye. "Is that one magic?"

"Oh, definitely!" Aureo assured her. He led her to a small planter that housed a yellowish fern that one might mistake for a sculpture made out of gold if it wouldn't gently bob up and down. It had a slight glow to it and now and then a small shower of sparkles shook off and rained down. Only to vanish into thin air. "That's Irish Golden Fern. It is so much magic that the Fae consider it holy and it is their official plant. It is on all their banners and flags. They are very proud of it."

"It is very pretty," the girl decided. Instead of skipping to the next interesting flower, she turned towards Aureo in his android body. "I am Ariadne. What's your name?"

"My name is- " Aureo broke off. He couldn't exactly introduce himself as Aureo. "Well, I am afraid I don't have one yet."

"But everyone needs a name!" The girl looked adamant about it.

"Well, maybe you have a suggestion?" Aureo asked. "What do you think I should be called?"

"I had a friend called Kalli in kindergarten," Ariadne volunteered. "She liked plants too. I haven't seen her in a while. We moved away, you know? She was funny. Always made strange faces when her mother called her Kalliope. It's like a long name of Kalli."

"Hmm. Kalliope isn't that bad," Aureo mused.

"No, Kalli!"

"Okay. Okay. Kalli," Aureo agreed.

"What's his name?" The girl pointed at Aureo's body sitting slumped over in an armchair.

"That's Aureo."

"That's a strange name. Does he like flowers too? Why doesn't he move? Is he dead?"

Hearing Ariadne ramble on was a small rollercoaster ride for Aureo. His name wasn't that strange. Right? And then the other questions hit him before he was ready.

"What? No, he is not dead. He's just- Napping. You see he loves plants so much that he spends all his time here. And when he gets tired, he just takes a nap here."

"That's weird," the little girl decreed.

But before Aureo could comment on it, a shout rang through the wagon. "Ari? Ari, where are you?"

"I'm here, Mama!" the child yelled back.

"Ariadne!" The mother stomped close and put her hands on her hips. Someone was in deep trouble. "I told you to not run away like that. Don't you know I worry? You can't just run off when you feel like that."

"It wasn't far," little Ariadne protested. "And Kalli showed me some cool flowers."

The mother sighed and kneeled down. "We have been over this. Kalliope couldn't come with us. She's staying at Nouveau Orleans."

"No, the android." She turned around to the newly christened Kalli. "It was android, right?"

At that moment, Aureo missed the ability to smile. The android had come some way since Aureo got it, but there was still a lot missing. It now clearly had a female shape in a geometric utilitarian style, but it was missing features like a face that could articulate. Maybe Aureo should prioritize this deficit next. But, for now, Aureo had to be satisfied by letting Kalli say: "That is correct, young Miss."

Only now the mother looked at the android. As if it hadn't been part of the discussion, to begin with. Aureo's first reaction was to call it rude. but thought better of it. The mother didn't know that behind Kalli was a soul and a human mind. To her, the android was as much an appliance like a dishwasher or monitor.

The mother turned back to her daughter. "I am sure it has better things to do."

Aureo felt the need to step it. "Not at all. I cherish the opportunity to educate young and eager minds."

The mother was taken aback. Maybe it has been a mistake on Aureo's part to respond as if the android was a person. Not everyone was open to new things. Some parts they traveled through were used to even less technology than Aureo and others born in the East American Commonwealth.

"Come," she said to her daughter. "We have to unpack in our suite before we can explore the train."

Ariadne turned around a last time to the android now named Kalli. "Can I come back?"

"Sure," Aureo assured her. Yet he felt the need to add a bit. "But only if your mother says so. I bet if you behave and do as you are told, then your next visit could be a reward."

Bemused, the mother didn't comment. Just dragging her child out of the wagon and Aureo's reach. Aureo wondered if he could have handled this situation better. He should ask Mirela next time she comes around.

Kalli. Short for Kalliope. Not a name Aureo would have chosen if he was honest. Not that it was bad. Just unusual. Might be of Greek origin, he thought. There weren't many Greeks in New Boston. He wasn't sure yet if he'd keep it for her, the android. Something else to ask Mirela. She might know.

A soft alarm alerted Aureo. It was time for lunch. Stashing Kalli in her closet, Aureo returned his consciousness to his own body. For the first time in hours, he stood up. Yes, his body was hungry. He hadn't noticed while piloting Kalli. And it felt fatigued despite doing nothing all day. Maybe he should work out a little more. Or at all.

But not now. As always, Aureo didn't feel like going to the cafeteria. He hadn't been there in a while. Or anywhere else on the train. Aureo knew what it was. Mirela and Hamish had warned him about it. He and his wagon had become inseparable. At least, for the foreseeable future. As such, a heated-up can in his small cabin had to do. And while at it, Aureo made plans.

---

It took some time until Mirela came around again. Shortly after their shared moment - and a sweet received kiss - Caius had banged his hip. Mirela was righteously worried because the stage magician was quite old. Now she doted on Caius all the time. Not that Aureo could fault her for it. She shared a soul with Caius. Just like he did with Kalli.

His android showed the first signs of autonomy. Now and then walking around woodenly and watering the plants. Aureo often had to step in. The fragile barebone hint of an A.I. couldn't yet decide which plant actually needed watering. There was still a lot to do before Kalli was truly his equal.

Not that Aureo minded working on Kalli anymore. He had tried visiting Mirela. She was just a few wagons down-train. But each try ended all too soon. Just a step out of his wagon filled Aureo with a feeling of unease. It grew with each step proportionally. He had yet to manage the fifth step. Always giving up before and hurrying back to his wagon.

It left him stranded in his wagon. Aureo knew it would be happening. He had been warned about it by Hamish and Mirela. It also gave him a new appreciation for Mirela. She had traveled all the way down-train when Aureo's wagon had been still situated at the end of the train. That was quite the distance. No wonder her visits had always been short. Just being there with him for a few minutes must have cost her an enormous amount of willpower.

The absence of Mirela was filled by others. Now that Aureo's wagon was situated in the middle of the train, he got a lot more visitors. Of course, employees of the train needed to pass through his wagon a lot. They usually didn't stay to enjoy the amenities. Not like the guests of the train did. His little wagon became quite popular. Often the two dozen armchairs on three levels were taken up by visitors. More often than not, Aureo stayed in his cabin to not take up space. That didn't mean he wasn't up and about. Through the eyes of Kalli, he took part in the activities of his wagon and interacted with guests.

It was after such an interaction, that Mirela surprised him. "I hear you go by Kalli now."

Aureo had Kalli twirl around and give Mirela a bright smile. It still felt a little wooden, but at least he had managed to give her a face that could be animated.

"It sort of happened," Aureo explained. "A little girl thought it was a fitting name. And people asked by what name I go by before I came up with a better name. It stuck."

Mirela leaned over and spoke in a hushed, but mirthful voice. "That's fine. It's practically tradition that we androids get named by someone else."

We androids. Those words bounced around within Aureo's head. Was Mirela already seeing Kalli as an independent person from Aureo? There was still a long way to go. It was still Aureo animating Kalli and instructing every action or word coming over her lips. Should he correct her? Maybe Mirela had done so on purpose. The end goal was to have Kalli as an independent person. And for Kalli to learn that she had to be addressed as such. That meant Aureo had to play along, right?

For now, Aureo decided to play along. "Can I ask you who named you?"

"Of course." Mirela beamed. "Actually. I sort of named myself. Kinda. Caius was having trouble deciding. So many names to choose from. In the end, he placed all the names on a large spinning wheel, blindfolded me, and had me throw a knife at it. Whatever name I hit would be it."

"And it landed on Mirela," Kalli dutifully concluded to play her part.

"Well- You remember that my body was a scrapyard rescue? Well, my movements were still kind of jerky. Being rather barebone at that time. I missed by a mile and impaled the portrait of the late actress Mirela Catargiu with my knife."

"Wish I could have seen it," Kalli admitted after a shared laugh. "How is Caius by the way?"

"Grumpy. Complaining over every little help I give." Mirela gave a suffering sigh. "As if I couldn't read his memories and know that he was grateful. But the hip is nearly healed. What about Aureo? Where is he at?"

"In the cabin," Kalli admitted. "In the morning and afternoon, it can be quite busy here. He didn't want to take up a seat that a guest might use."

The Aureo within Kalli was bemused. It felt strange to remark about himself in the third person. Then again, it felt a little like playing make pretend. As if he stepped into the role of someone else. Maybe like those in spy movies did.

"Well, don't keep him in there all the time," Mirela remarked with mirth. "He's pale enough and needs a bit of sunshine."

"Maybe," Kalli admitted. "But he gets way more than when he spent his whole day in a cave."

Mirela nodded. "So, how are you doing as Kalli? I noticed some changes to your chassis."

Kalli looked down instinctively. Yes, there had been some changes. She clearly had a female outline now. While still being all metal, some of her chassis had been formed and painted to look like clothing. Making her dressed and naked at the same time. A curious and amusing thought. Aside from her face that could now show expressions, Kalli had hair. Not the best one by a long shot. It was a blob of foam plastic styled and painted like hair. Looking like a goofy wig instead of real hair. Kalli had to remind herself that it was a step in between and not the final product.

"Fine. It feels more natural to control her. To be her. I think I made good progress on getting the right movement and gestures instilled in her."

Mirela quirked an eyebrow. "And how are you doing without Aureo riding shotgun?"

Kalli needed a moment to think about it. Had there been a time lately when she hadn't been controlled by Aureo? He always returned her to her charging and storage cabinet when slipping back into himself. Too worried a half-finished A.I. may lead to accidents. The last thing Aureo wanted was to get anybody hurt.

"I don't really know," Kalli admitted. "There hadn't been time really to test progress."

Mirela crossed her arms. She did not look pleased. "That's an excuse and you know it. Look, the time apart is as important as the time together. And Aureo needs regular exercise. He can't stay in the cabin all day."

Kalli would have swallowed hard if she could have. She didn't possess that ability yet. Even without, Kalli expressed herself being intimidated by taking a step back and lowering her head. Mirela could be scary if she wanted to.

"I'll try to do better," she promised.

"You do that." Then Mirela's expression softened. "Look, we both know that Aureo tends to get lost in things. It is up to us to look after him, right? For his own good."

"Right." Now that Mirela had pointed it out, Kalli had to admit there was some truth to it. Aureo could be obsessive about things. And if he did his health suffered. How much time had he spent as her lately and how much as himself? The answer was too scary to actually put into words.

"I will try to get him out more often," Kalli promised. "Even if I have to take a step back."

Mirela gave her a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. "You do that. Next time I come back, I wanna see Aureo up and about. He better be not just skin and bones."

"Hahaha. Of course, not." Kalli lied. Vowing to get Aureo eating first thing after Mirela left. He really could use a bit more on his ribs.

---

It was late. The lights in her wagon were dimmed and Kalli could see the full moon up in the night sky. She thought it was Luna Three. A glance at the horizon and she barely made out a new moon there. That would be Luna Two. Making her guess about Luna Three correct. Sometimes she still got the moon phases wrong. Having five of them could get complicated. The people on old Earth had it better she decided. Her ancestors only had to make do with one.

Kalli hurried to do her last chores. Aureo was already in his cabin. He had showered, eaten, and was laying in bed. Still, he had lain awake in his bed unable to fall asleep. So, he had decided to jump into Kalli real quick and make sure the wagon was tidied up and clean. Hoping that this was the reason he had trouble falling asleep.

It was while cleaning the armchairs of the second level of breadcrumbs that Kalli suddenly felt strange. Something was missing. As if she had lost a part of her. She looked around, expecting to see part of her wagon gone, but everything was where it should be. What else was there? Kalli's mind turned towards Aureo and nearly stumbled by the feelings she picked up.

Aureo was dreaming. He had fallen asleep while Kalli was cleaning up. But if Aureo was slumbering, who controlled Kalli now? It couldn't be Aureo. The answer was sobering. Kalli was controlling herself. Not just following some program without Aureo steering her. She was thinking of her own. As if she was her own person.

Kalli knew she should be proud of herself. This is where her journey as an individual would begin. She didn't need Aureo anymore. And yet, she did. Without Aureo, there was a part of her missing. Kalli wasn't sure how to deal with it. She kind of hated being without Aureo. Not that she really was without him. She had his memories and she could feel him in his sleep. They were connected by sharing the same soul. Still, it was not the same.

Freaked out, she hurried to her little alcove. If Aureo could skip the night by sleeping then so could she and powered down.

---

Kalli hummed as her paintbrush danced over the glass. Swirling lines of watercolor tinted the panoramic window step by step. The motive was, of course, flowers. As if those scattered all through the wagon weren't enough. She didn't paint the whole window. Just framing it at the edge. The panoramic view was one of the main draws for guests to visit their wagon. She knew how tempting it was to stare out the window at the ever-changing landscape outside for hours on end.

"That's pretty."

Turning around, Kalli noticed the commenter was a girl of maybe ten years old. Kids were one of Kalli's favorite groups of visitors. "Thank you." She gave a girl her best smile. It didn't appear one hundred percent natural yet. Mostly because her face wasn't up to the task. Aureo and her had focused a lot of time on improving her body, but changing an androids body could be a hard task. Mirela had explained it to them. Kalli's body was occupied. Her own person identified with it on an instinctual level. To change one's android body ran against the self-image she had of herself. That self-image resisted change. Slowing down whatever progress she or Aureo hoped to achieve.

"I didn't know androids could paint."

Kalli's grin widened. Kids hadn't always learned the finer aspects of social interactions. That often made them blunt, but honest. In her eyes, it often was preferable to how adults treated her. To most of them, she wasn't a person. Just an object. A thing.

"I am a special one," Kalli replied with a wink.

"Mom!" the girl turned around to a woman in her mid-thirties. "Can I have my windows painted at home too?"

A sneer started to appear on the mother's face but was quickly replaced by a smile that looked a bit forced to Kalli. "We'll talk about it at home. Come. Daddy is waiting in the restaurant wagon."

There was a decidedly drawback of being part of a luxury train, Kalli realized early on. Most of their guests tended to be of the social upper crust and leaned towards the snobbish.

Waving after the girl, Kalli decided to take a moment to study the people within her wagon, before going to paint more. A few families drifted through. Nearly all of the armchairs were used by those gazing at the panorama outside. A few used the seats for reading and only occasionally looked up for the view. Which was fine by Kalli. They had placed those armchairs for comfort and they were good at it.

Aureo was nowhere to be seen. But Kalli knew that without looking. Yes, they had separated. She was now her own person. But Aureo still spent a lot of time sharing her body and experience. She knew he liked the shifted perspective Kalli could give him. She herself felt more complete with him augmenting her too. It probably had to do with their soul. They shared it. It was evenly distributed between them and the wagon. But when Aureo shared her body, it felt as if their soul concentrated there. Maybe she should talk to Mirela about this. But for now, Kalli enjoyed that Aureo was with her. And he was. She'd know when not.

Kalli gave a content sigh. It was a peaceful living in this wagon. On this, she was sure Aureo agreed with her. Both of them didn't even mind being limited to just this small space. It had become normal for them.

Turning around, she picked up her paintbrush again. Idly tapping her chin with it. Maybe she should paint the next flower's petals blue. But what shade? She could go for a cornflower-like design or-

A tug of Kalli's skirt interrupted her line of thought. It was a boy who wanted her attention this time. He looked younger than the girl from before. Kalli guessed about five or six years old. With a smile, she crouched down to be at his eye level. "Yes? Can I do something for you?"

The boy pointed away. "It stinks there!" Then dashed away.

Kalli got up and frowned when following where the boy had pointed. It was the small cabin Aureo used. Kalli took a whiff of the air but barely smelled anything. Not surprising, as this sense wasn't really developed yet.

Maybe Aureo had forgotten to take away some food scraps again. Or his last shower had been too long. His conviction of taking care of himself rose and fell like the tides of the ocean. Sometimes he managed better, and other times it got worse. Kalli wasn't much better. It was her job to look after Aureo. Yet, she wasn't much better.

She picked a quiet moment to slip into the cabin. Here, even with her limited sense of smell, she noticed the smell getting stronger. Aureo laid on his cot. Not even noticing it. He looked peaceful with his eyes closed. As if he was sleeping. Kalli would have known if he did. Often getting a sense of his dreams.

By now, Aureo should return to his body and take care of it. She knew he knew, but sometimes he needed a little push. Literally. Shaking his shoulder. "Come on. Get up. You need a shower. And food. You look a bit pale." But strangely not as gaunt as she had seen him the last time.

"I am not joking, Aureo. Get up."

Nothing. Aureo clung to her own body. She knew so from the concentration of her soul. She was getting annoyed, but then a new thought occurred to her. What if he couldn't return? Maybe something prevented it. Shocked, she stumbled back. Fumbling for the intercom behind her. She didn't use it often. Neither did Aureo. Most of what they needed was right here, in their wagon.

"Mirela? Mirela, are you there?"

"I am," Mirela responded a few seconds later. "What's wrong? You sound upset."

"It's Aureo. He won't wake up. I tried shaking him and calling out. I don't know what to do."

"I'll be right there."

Worried, Kalli looked back at Aureo. He still hadn't woken up. Nervously, she fidgetted with her fingers. If the cabin hadn't been so small, she would have paced. Where was Mirela? She should have been here by now. Her wagon wasn't that far away.

A sudden knock on the door made Kalli jump, despite expecting it. She hurried to open the door, but it was not Mirela standing before her. It was Sherin. The right-hand android of Mister Neville.

"Miss Kalli?" Sherin's voice was soft and somber. Kalli had never heard her like that. Neither had Aureo. "Please step out for a moment."

Kalli complied on instinct. Maybe it was better this way. Sherin always appeared so professional. It stood to reason that she knew better what to do.

As Sherin stepped into the cabin, she revealed Mirela, who stood close by. Wordless, she drew Kalli into an embrace. Giving her a tight hug that never seemed to end. She felt like crying, but no tears came. It was a function she simply didn't have but would give the world right now to possess. Every attempt to speak up was gently hushed by Mirela.

"Just wait," her friend whispered. "Hamish will be here soon."

Hamish Neville arrived around five minutes later. For Kalli, it felt like a small eternity. One small look into the cabin, and he walked over to the hugging androids. "Kalli, come sit with me for a minute." He took a seat in one of the armchairs and patiently waited until Kalli let go of Mirela. Taking a seat of her own.

She didn't dare to look him in the eyes. Instead, staring down at her hands. "He is dead, isn't he?"

Hamish's voice was soft. "I'm afraid so. By a few days at least."

"I failed!" She burst out. "It was my job to care for him. To keep him alive."

"No, it was not." Even the gentle rebuke by Hamish left Kalli shocked. "It was Aureo's duty to take care of himself. You? Yes, you were supposed to help. But it was never your job to shoulder that burden alone. Your duty lies elsewhere."

Kalli was quiet. Thinking about his words, they just didn't make sense to her. "Then what was? I don't understand."

"You should remember that I talked about this with Aureo. His memories are yours. There is a reason we pair those becoming soul bound with a Manteriantus Wagon to an android." Hamish turned to the window. Staring out at the landscape. Though Kalli got the feeling he saw none of it. "In the old days when the Manteriantus Wagons were new, we didn't know better. The inventor, Augustus Manteriantus, only thought of it as a means to design custom wagons. Cheap and easy."

"But then, people who were soul-bound to a wagon started dying," Hamish continued on a more somber note. "They were too focused on the creativity they could live out through the wagon that they neglected their own bodies. The Manteriantus Wagon became known as cursed. But it was worse for those poor souls who died. Because they lingered. They had no means of communication except for changing parts of their wagons. Their early attempts led to a widespread conception that the Manteriantus Wagons are haunted. In a way, they were."

"That's why you insist on androids," Kalli concluded.

"We found out by accident," Hamish continued. "Androids were even less common then than they are now. Kalli, humans are fragile. You can take care of them as much as you want, but - at the latest - old age will claim them. But here, their souls endure. Kalli, your job was never to take care of Aureo. Not directly. It was to take care of his soul. Your soul. To give it the means to act in this world."

Kalli sank into deep thoughts as Hamish stopped talking. It made sense. In a way. She wished she had more of a warning, but the more she looked at it, the more she realized that there had been warnings around her all along. Mirela and Hamish had told her and Aureo time and time again to take care and what was to come. Even Sherin had warned Aureo in her own way."

"In a way-" Kalli broke off to formulate her thoughts some more. "It's like reincarnation. Me taking over for Aureo. A relay race. Sort of. And I got to spend time with my past self. Even if I didn't know it yet. Still. I wish I'd-"

"What?" Hamish gently asked.

"That I had spent more time with Aureo. Apart, I mean." Kalli gave a short sad laugh. "It's pathetic, isn't it. I couldn't even keep him alive for a year. How laughable is that?"

"Not as bad as you think." Hamish let out a long sigh. "Perhaps it is best to tell you another story. Yes, I am checking off all the old guy tropes. Always another story to tell. Bear with me, okay?"

Kalli was in no mood for stories. Old or new. Aureo was dead. How could a story help her? To ease the guilt she still felt. But what else was she supposed to do now? Kalli had no idea how to go on without him. Perhaps it could help. Maybe. Even if it was a little, Kalli would take it. Her tumultuous thoughts made themself known only in a short nod.

"There was once a girl-" Hamish shook his head. "No, that is not the best point to start. Let's go back to Augustus Manteriantus. His greatest work was known as haunted and cursed. Even after finding out the truth he had trouble washing off that image. His last attempt to turn around was to create something new. If the magic worked for a wagon, why not for a locomotive? He created a prototype. His final masterpiece. But there was a problem. No one was willing to bind to it."

Hamish leaned over with a mischievous grin. "Except one girl just reaching adulthood. Oh, she loved trains. Couldn't get enough of them. Visited the tracks every day in hopes of seeing a new train drive by. It was her life. Her blood. And when she heard of Manteriantus' last try of fame, she had to be the one to bind to it."

Hamish leaned back with a sour frown. "Except Augustus was stubborn. The girl knew nothing of the details. Had no education in anything official in regards to trains. Wouldn't even do as a good poster girl. Tall. Lanky. Not very strong. No one's first choice. Luckily for her, she was his only choice. She got the job. Happily bound her soul to the engine. Explored every nook and cranny. She was even faster on the uptake than Aureo and remodeled the engine three times in a month."

A wistful smile and absent eyes, clue Kalli in that Hamish break in his tale led him to old memories. Cherished ones too. At last, he took a deep breath and continued.

"Augustus was worried. Of course, he was. He recognized her behavior from dozens of people before who had been soul-bound to a wagon. By then, they had a solution. An android. It was more intended as a temporary fix than a true solution, but for now, it worked."

"She choose one that reminded her of her grandpa. Why? She was young. No one took her seriously. And we are talking about two hundred years ago. It wasn't that long after humanity had fled Earth and settled on New Terra. On Earth, they nearly had achieved gender equality. But New Terra was ten times the size of Earth and governments fell apart. In that wake, old outdated concepts sprang forth. Not everywhere. Just enough to give the girl trouble with assholes regularly. So, she decided her android would be her stand-in. And she called him Hamish."

Now, Kalli sat up straighter. Looking shocked at the old man beside her. "You're an android?"

"Of course," Hamish confirmed with a fatherly smile. "One of the oldest on this train. Not the oldest, but nearly."

As the shock ebbed away, Kalli knew what this story would lead to. Still, she had to ask. "What happened to her? The girl."

"I took on more and more responsibility, while she concentrated on the engine. Everything fell away and became a second priority. Even her own health. And, at last, one day I found her. Just like you did with Aureo. Curled in a corner. I couldn't even pretend she was asleep. She might have been dead for a week or two. Must have been around five months in. Not that this is a competition."

"I am sorry." Kalli knew it must have been a lifetime ago. From the timeframe, it was likely more than two. Still, from the sound of his voice, she knew it still hurt Hamish to talk about it. "What did you do? How did you deal with it?"

"She loved to feel the wind rushing by when the locomotive was going full sprint. Either by sticking her head out or later through her connection to the engine. She loved it. Being part of the locomotive. And that's how I honored her. Instead of telling anyone, I burned her in the arc furnace that powers this train. So, not just her soul, but her ashes too, became part of the engine. Over time, people forgot about her. Even about Augustus. Or that I was only an android. At some point, my body became convincing enough that they thought I was human. And the owner of this train. Never really corrected them."

Kalli thought she understood Hamish a lot more now. Most of all, his drive to collect Manteriantus Wagons and to seeing them restored. It must have been lonely over the time and only those soul-bound too would be able to truly understand him.

Would she feel lonely on time too? Aureo and Mirela had spoken about it once. What Mirela would do when Caius died. Would she replace him with an android of his liking? Would Kalli do the same with Aureo? She couldn't imagine it and Mirela seemed to be on the fence.

"Have you ever-" Kalli stopped herself noticing into what painful territory she was stepping. Still, she had to know. "Did you ever miss her enough to try bringing her back? As an android, I mean."

"Not at first, no," Hamish admitted. "I thought it would taint my memory of her. But over time, this train became larger. I couldn't be everywhere at the same time. Someone was needed to help me run this train. So, I did. Recreate her. Three times to be exact. It's a large train, after all."

"Triplets?" Kalli tried to remember. "I never noticed triplets."

Hamish chuckled. "Sherin would never permit that to happen. Then their jig would be up!"

"Sherin?" Kalli was stunned. How had she never put that together? This made so much sense now. Aureo had wondered time and time again how the android had managed to appear and disappear. Seemingly teleporting when he raced her up or down the train. Always knowing what was up. "There are three of her?"

Hamish only gave her a wink.

For a moment, Kalli's spirits had risen. But now, the sadness crept back in. "I still feel sorry for Aureo. That I couldn't keep him here longer."

"Don't be," Hamish assured her. "Look around you? What do you see? Isn't it what Aureo always had dreamed of? A place to find peace."

Kalli looked around her wagon as if she saw it for the first time. Aureo loved his plants. The magnificent view outside. The freedom he got even while being restricted to just one wagon. "Yes," Kalli quietly agreed.

Hamish nodded. "And for this space, he needed a caretaker. Someone who loved plants as much as him. But even more, someone who is open to visitors. Big and small alike. The ideal hostess. Someone like him, but not dragged down by the flaws he felt he had. And that is you, Kalli."

At that moment, Kalli cursed her android body. Again she felt like crying. She had never viewed herself in the light that Hamish presented her now. There was so much truth to it.

"He might have not realized it himself, but you are his ideal self as he envisioned it," Hamish continued. "Even when you became your own, he chose to stay with you. To see the world through your eyes. Kalli, you are Aureo's hopes and dreams. Something that he believed in more than himself. And whatever you do or wherever you go, you will always carry that with you. Aureo is still a part of you and he will be with you, always."

Kalli looked at Hamish and gave him a smile. It was a sad smile. Full of bittersweet memories and hopes, but it was one. "Thank you. I needed to hear that."

"You're welcome," Hamish said while standing up. He rested a hand on her shoulder. "I'll be around if you need me."

His armchair didn't stay empty for long. Mirela took his place. Quietness settled over the room. Mirela stared out of the large windows. Watching the world speed by. And Kalli was lost for words. What was she supposed to say? She had known that Mirela and Aureo had feelings for each other. And now, Aureo was gone. For that, she still felt guilty.

After a long moment, Mirela reached over. Taking Kalli's hand in her own. Giving it a reassuring squeeze. Maybe words weren't necessary after all. Together, the two androids sat silently and watched the world rush by. Until the landscape darkened and the sun was setting.

And in the faint light of the last sun rays, a single tear ran down Kalli's cheek. More joined to her amazement. It made her smile. Gave her hope. She might be an android now on her own. But she wasn't alone. And she could still change, evolve, and grow. And for that, she had to give thanks to Aureo. For him, she would go on and make his dreams a reality.

The end.

"Nervous?" Antje asked as they lined up at the check-in counter.

"Nervous? Why would I be?" Kai asked. "Maybe because I am taking an expensive flight to a faraway country? Paid for by a friend I haven't seen in years. Leaving everything behind of my old life. No, why would I be nervous?"

"You know, we talked about sarcasm," Antje remarked as they shuffled a few steps forward as the line moved. "It is an-"

"An unhealthy coping mechanism," Kai interrupted. "I know. I know."

"As is interrupting people," Antje added.

Of course, she had to point it out. It was her job after all. Though, by now, she was more than just his mandatory therapist. She had become a good friend as well. They were so close, he often wondered if this is how it felt if you had a sibling. Not that Kai knew so himself. His parents had thought one child was enough.

"So, how do you know him, again?" Antje asked. "Your friend. What was his name?"

"Björn." Kai was very well aware that Antje knew it. And every other detail. It was her way to keep him talking and calm his nerves. "I have known him since childhood. Best friend since third grade. We lost touch shortly after graduation. Spoke a few times through the internet. Left messages. Things like that. Can't even remember when that stopped."

"You moved away?"

"He moved away," Kai corrected. And he knew that Antje knew as well. Asking the wrong question was yet another trick of hers to keep him talking. "His great-uncle died. Came as a surprise to him. No one in his family knew the great-uncle even existed. Or that he knew of Björn or his family. But he inherited that fish farm up in one of the Neo-Norwegian prefectures. Björn moved up there and‐ Well, he built a new life there. Looks quite happy by the looks of the few pictures he uploaded."

More than a few. Kai wouldn't admit it aloud - especially to Antje - but he was jealous. While his own life was more and more consumed by office humdrum, heavy workloads, and overtime, he witnessed Björn living his dream from afar. The freedom, the financial security, and even his friends dating life. It made Kai jealous. It had been him who slowly broke off contact. Fearing his jealousy would seep through his sparse communication with his old friend.

"Looks like he hadn't forgotten about you," Antje said with a heartfelt smile.

Like the rest of them. Friends. Co-workers. Even his parents. He had pushed them all away when he needed them the most. When his many trappings caught up and burnout swallowed him whole. Three years he had spent in therapy. Getting better in a state-funded clinic. The first few cordial visits tethered off quickly. Kai couldn't really blame them. Each visit had been depressing for both parties involved.

"It will be good catching up," Kai admitted. He did look forward to it. Despite being quite scary to leave everything behind. "Thanks for coming with me and dropping me off."

Antje's smile renewed. "I had to."

She didn't. For nearly two and a half years she had been responsible for him. Making sure that he got better. Or survived. Kai was still bemused that they had put him on suicide watch. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind in his darkest hours. Yet, he couldn't blame them. By the time he was committed, he barely took care of himself anymore. Having lost a lot of weight in the few weeks prior.

"It's what friends do," Antje added. "Ah. It is our turn."

She walked over to the counter that just freed up. Kai needed a moment to catch up as tears threatened to flow freely. Friends indeed. And for all the bad he endured in the last few years, having met Antje made it nearly worth it.

---

"Kai! Good to see you."

They had barely left the airport when they were spotted by Björn. He was coming towards them fast and Kai's mind raced how he should greet someone once close, but now a stranger for years. However, Björn had no such qualms and pulled Kai into a bear hug that earned its name.

It was surprisingly stunning. Kai just didn't know how to react except to give a tentative hug back. Hopefully, Björn didn't mind how gross Kai was right now. A twelve-hour flight and some small bouts of fright and doubt had left him a sweaty mess.

"Good to see you too," Kai awkwardly repeated as Björn let him go. "You look good."

Surprisingly fit and healthy. Kai had seen the pictures, but in person, the transformation was more visceral. Gone was the lanky youth that Kai had known. Björn had packed on mass. Not fat. Muscle. Yet he didn't look like a bodybuilder. More the kind of guy that did hard work and earned their body the natural way.

"And you must be Antje," Björn said before taking her in an equally big hug. "Kai told me a lot about you."

A lot? Surely he hadn't been talking that much about her. Kai's anxiety spiked in a heartbeat. Had he? Maybe. Hopefully, Kai hadn't given the wrong impression. Antje and him- They were just friends. Kai didn't even want more from her. Relationships complicate things. And he just didn't see Antje in that way. She felt like a sister.

"Thank you for helping to pick Kai back up. He needed a break and someone to be there for him," Björn continued and Kai's spiked heartbeat and anxiety slowly receded. "I am grateful for it."

"No need to thank me," Antje replied. She actually looked flustered a little. "I got a good friend out of it, so I'll say it was time well spent."

"Speaking of picking up-" Björn pointed behind him. "My van is back there. Load up and hit the road?"

"Sure." Kai even managed a fragile smile.

Pulling his baggage towards the van, Kai felt another spike of anxiety come. Antje would only be staying for a few days and she had packed more than him. There just wasn't that much left of his life. He hadn't even been there when his apartment had been cleared out. A few pieces had been stored at his parent's house. Not that he had bothered to even retrieve it. Just a few outfits. Most of them were new. Neo-Norwegian promised to be a bit colder in the winter than Kai was used to.

The drive back to the farm could have been awkward, but Björn had a talent for keeping the conversation going. He was better at it than even Antje whose job was to get people to open up. There wasn't much catching up to do. Instead, Björn pointed out local highlights as they drove by. Peppering in anecdotes and funny tales. Even local folklore. But it wasn't just Björn talking. He managed to engage Kai and Antje. Making them tell things in return that was surprising to Kai. After the five-hour drive, he just was about to pick up hiking and thinking it was a good idea too. Even though he hated hiking since childhood.

"There we are," Björn said as he stopped the van on a hill that overlooked a whole fjord. It was the first sign of civilization in an hour. Even the road had changed to dirt a while back. Björn looked to be proud of the few houses that lined one side of the fjord.

Kai always dreamed of owning a house. And seeing nearly a dozen was impressive. A pang of envy flashed through Kai, but he ignored it. "Looks nice. Picturesque. And you own all these buildings?"

Björn gave a wild grin. "I own the whole fjord and everything in it." He sank into his seat with a wistful smile. "Sometimes, I still can't believe it. A whole fjord. Still feels unreal now and then. Like a dream, I get to live in. Makes me afraid to wake up." It only took a moment for Björn to recover and then put the van back into gear. "Come on. Let's get you down there. I have a cabin for each of you. A tour can wait until tomorrow. After the long flight and drive, I bet you'll desire a shower and a bed."

Kai nodded. Fatigue had settled into his bones for some time now. He simply couldn't go as long anymore as when he was younger.

Antje was more vocal about it. "You can bet your ass on that one." It earned her a laugh from both of them.

---

It was cold, but Kai didn't mind one bit. Despite the temperature, the sky was clear and the sun was out. He sat on the pier and in one of the lawn chairs Björn had placed. Leaning back and now and then taking a sip. It was peaceful. The gentle lapping of the waves at the piers wood had a calming influence. It had the quality of a lullaby. It already had claimed Antje who took a nap on a lounge chair nearby. So far, Kai resisted.

Steps alerted him that someone was coming and Kai spied Björn making his way onto the pier. Past the many small row- or motorboats. Nothing bigger was needed. The whole fjord had been cut off with a submerged fence that kept Björn fish in. A good thing, as the oceans of New Terra, were a little more dangerous than those of old Earth.

Björn waited until he took a seat and a beer before he spoke up. "How are you doing? Everything good?"

Kai leaned back and enjoyed the sun for a few seconds. "Yeah. Great actually. I don't remember when I could last just- Let things be, you know? To enjoy the moment. No meetings scheduled. Deadlines to make." Kai hesitated to continue but decided to push through. Björn and he had been good friends once. If he wanted to rekindle it, he couldn't push him away like all the others. "Didn't have those in the institute either. But there, it was all by the plan. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner all by this and that hour. Therapy at that time. Walk in the yard only at other times. It was surprisingly right. But here- You lucked out Björn."

"Yeah." Björn took a swig of beer. "But it can be lonely too. Not much work in winter, so my seasonal workers leave. For the first few years, I didn't know anybody. Made it hard, you know? But now, I've got you here. I am glad to share this with you. Especially if it helps."

"I think it does," Kai confirmed. Taking a few more moments to enjoy the view. Then he couldn't help but snicker. "Are you sure you can take a break Björn? Looks like the local wildlife is out to rob you." He pointed with his beer bottle at a few seals that climbed over the mostly submerged fence."

"Ah, the locals," Björn replied and leaned back. "I have an understanding with them." He leaned over and whispered in a conspiratorial tone. "Probably Selkies too."

"What are Selkies?" Kai had to ask.

"Ah, right. Sorry." Björn took another swig before leaning over again. "Everyone here knows about Selkies. Local legend and folklore. Old too. Goes even back to old Earth. Up and down there are variations of the legend. Even over in eastern Scotland. Here, they tell it like this. There was once a sad fisherman because he was so lonely-"

"Are you talking about the legend or yourself?" Kai jibes. Earning himself a laugh from Björn.

"One day the fisherman walked along the coast and saw a beautiful maiden sitting at the beach. But when he came closer, the woman fled. But not anywhere, but the open sea. It became a regular occurrence and even from afar, the fisherman fell in love. Now here is the thing, one day the fisherman arrived early, and what he saw changed everything. He saw a seal arrive at the shores. Its skin split open and the woman emerged."

"The seals have were-woman?" Kai asked. "That's the story?"

"Well, it's not by moonlight, so no." If Björn was miffed by Kai's doubt, then at least he didn't show it. "Anyway. One morning the fisherman snuck up to where the Selkie had shed her skin. He stole it and hid it away. When the Selkie tried to return to the ocean, she was saddened beyond comparison as she could find her seal skin."

"What a scummy thing to do," Kai interrupted. "I mean, it is folklore, right? That's more or less how folklore goes, but still. That dude was an asshole."

"Quite so," Björn agreed. "And it got worse. You see, it was then that the fisherman showed up. With nowhere to run, Selkie let him approach. The man confessed his love and offered his help. Vowing to give her shelter until she found her skin again."

"That can't end well," Kai mused. "Lies are a poor foundation to build on."

"Indeed. But we are talking about folklore here. With nowhere else to go, she accepted. Months passed by and then years. And along the way, she fell in love too. But as you guessed, this was not the happy end the man expected. One day the Selkie, by then his wife, looked through his shed in search of something. Instead, she found her skin. She was heartbroken. How could a man she thought she loved and who professed his love to her, betray her like that? She ran to the ocean. To be finally free again. On her way, the fisherman saw and ran after her. He was too slow. But as the Selkie stood in the surf and slipped back on her skin, she cursed him with bad luck for seven years. And then, she was never seen again."

"She should have drowned his ass," Kai said with gusto. As Björn looked a bit shocked, Kai doubled down. "I mean, he denied her, her true self, right? For him, it was the beauty of her human body. Probably not even her mind. And then lie to her for years. If I'd been the Selkie, I would have drowned him for sure. Dragged him to the bottom of the ocean where he could rot."

Björn actually shrugged and leaned back. "Well, you aren't that far off track. I did say there were variations. In some, she does indeed drown his ass. In others, they fall in love first and the man grows jealous of her love for the sea. Other variants have him as a woodsman and not a fisherman. You get the gist."

"Nice dark story you got there," Kai laughed. "But I am not buying that you have magical seals on your front porch that transform into beautiful gorgeous maidens."

Björn joined in with a chuckle. "Yeah, I thought you wouldn't. But it'd be nice if it would be true right?"

"Sure. Women!" Kai gestured all over the fjord with his beer bottle. "Naked women everywhere! What's not to love?"

"Where are naked women?" The question came from Antje who rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"Oh, Björn just told me about the magical seals he has as neighbors," Kai explained. "Along with a nice creepy story."

"You've got Selkies here?" Antje asked.

"I was joking," Björn hastened to say. "Local folklore. Nothing more."

There was that knowing smile on Björn's face that Kai recognized. He hadn't seen it since their teenage days, but he was sure. Either Björn was concealing something or he planned a prank. Kai guessed the latter one.

"Well, I can trump Selkies," Kai admitted. "But I've got cold beer if you want."

"Not saying no to that," Antje said with a grin and took the offered bottle.

Just then, they heard the loud calls of a seal. Bobbing up and down near the submerged fence. "Looks like that's my call to work," Björn said while standing up from his chair. "She probably spotted a hole in the net. Told you it is nice to have them around."

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah." Kai waved him on with a grin. "Go to your girlfriend. But I am telling you if you make out with a seal I am dragging you back to the house. For your own good."

Björn didn't reply. Just shaking his head while grinning and heading off.

"Are you always ribbing each other like that?" Antje asked.

"Pretty much." Kai leaned back and took another swig. Only to notice the bottle was empty. The temptation was there to go for another, but he decided against it. He probably had enough. "Feels good, though. Hasn't changed a bit. Don't worry. I'll probably be the butt of a joke or the victim of a prank by him soon enough. Give and take. That's how our friendship always worked."

Mirth colored Antje's face. "That's how it should be."

---

"You'll write to me," Antje demanded. They stood outside on the driveway. Björn was getting the van.

"Of course," Kai promised. "And the internet isn't that bad between here and home. Who knows, I might even spring for a holo-call."

"Sure. Maybe get a job first?" Antje suggested. "So you can actually afford it."

"It's on my bucket list," Kai confirmed.

"Just- Don't overdo it, okay? Take it slow. Don't jump in heads over heels."

"I've learned my lesson. Promise."

Just then, Björn stopped beside them with the van. "I should be back before sundown," he remarked as he helped Antje load her baggage.

"I'll hold the fort," Kai assured him. "Well. The house too. The fjord. The peer-"

"The beer," Antje added without missing a beat. Prompting laughter from the two men. They were definitely rubbing off on her.

The last few days had been relaxing. But they also went by fast. Now, Antje would return home. Kai wondered when he would. Or even if. Right now, there was nothing there except Antje. He didn't even have much contact with his parents right now.

After a few heartfelt goodbyes and way too much hugging, Kai waved as they drove off. He knew they would stay in contact, yet it felt as if one more string tying him down to his past had just snapped. With a sigh, Kai walked to the main house. His own cabin had a small kitchen, but it wasn't stocked. In the last few days, they had preferred to eat all together.

Maybe a snack might be good before heading out to the peer. Kai felt a bit peckish. Fishing could take a while. Even when dangling your line smack in the middle of a fish farm. However, all thoughts about fish and their demise vanished, as Kai walked into the kitchen.

A naked butt greeted him. It belonged to a woman, equally naked, who rummaged through the fridge. Before Kai had even the time to blush, the woman turned around. A half-eaten pickle in her mouth.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to-" Then it dawned on Kai. "Let me guess, you are supposed to be a Selkie?"

"Oh, hi. Björn told you about us?" She turned around. Not even bothered the slightest that she was naked.

"Oh, I know all about you." Kai grinned and shook his head. "A Selkie. As if. I mean, don't get me wrong, you are a beautiful woman, but it takes a bit more to fool old me. If Björn wants to prank me, he has to do better."

"Prank?" the woman asked, but then straightened up. "Right. Prank. Totally."

Somewhere, Kai had seen her before. Yet he couldn't quite place her. It would come to him in time. For now, there were more pressing matters. "I've got to know. How much did he pay you? I mean, pretty brazen to walk around naked. Must be a lot. Just for a prank."

"Payment. Yes." She ducked back into the fridge and pulled out a whole jar of pickles. "This payment. All mine now."

Kai quirked his eyebrow in confusion. "Boy, you must like pickles a lot."

"Oh, yes. Selja loves pickles. Pickles payment." She started to back away from the fridge. "Oh, you say you ate pickles. Not Selja. And Selja says you didn't get pranked. Fooled. Didn't get fooled. Deal?"

"Sure," Kai agreed, just as Selja backed out of the door.

And then, she was gone. Amused, Kai walked to the window, but couldn't see the wannabe Selkie anymore. She had vanished without a trace.

Shaking his head once more, Kai walked over to the fridge to close it. "Selkies. As if. You've got to do better." After making some sandwiches, he decided to head out. There were fish to be caught. On his way through the living room, a picture on the mantelpiece caught his attention. It was Björn surrounded by attractive women. One of them was Selja. This time she was dressed. "Caught you. Probably a neighbor or so. They must be tight if Björn could win her for this stunt."

The moment he stepped out of the door, Kai groaned. This attempt at a prank was just pathetic. He could appreciate a naked woman, yes. But the seal on the other side of the fjord munching on pickles from an overturned jar? Not so much. It was a little overdone.

"Hopefully seals aren't allergic to pickles," Kai muttered as he made his way to the shed housing the fishing rods.

---

When Kai woke up, it was already bright outside. Clueing him in, that he had overslept. A glance at the alarm clock revealed flashing zeros. Another blackout in the night. Probably not long, but long enough to wipe the alarm clock clean.

Björn had said that blackouts were common around the rural areas. The main house had backup batteries for that case. Not so the cabins. Kai shrugged. It didn't really matter. It wasn't as if he had a job to go to. Yes, lately he had gotten up early to help out a bit on Björn's fish farm. To show his appreciation. And to have something to do. After a month, fishing and lazing around got a bit boring.

"Or Björn popped the fuse. To have a quiet morning without me," Kai joked. After a quick shower, he headed to the main house. Looking up, he saw that the day hadn't fully begun. Maybe getting up early helped to get a good body rhythm going again.

Walking over, he saw lights from the kitchen. It looked like Björn hadn't started his work for the day yet. Hurrying a bit up, Kai slipped in. "Good morning Björn. What is-"

Kai stopped. Not just Björn sat at the kitchen table and looked up at him. Five women did too. They all looked familiar and one he recognized immediately. Selja was - of course - munching on pickles.

"Kai. You are already awake?" Björn not just sounded surprised but looked like it too. But he caught himself quickly. "This is- Neighbors. My local neighbors. Now and then we get together and talk about-"

"Boring stuff?" Kai volunteered. He wasn't stupid. It was clear that something was going on he wasn't supposed to witness. Part of him was curious and another part wouldn't mind the company of five beautiful women. Still, he was a guest. Kai decided that Björn would clue him in on his own time. "Let me just grab something for breakfast and then I leave you to it."

"That might be for the best," Björn agreed as Kai rummaged around to gather a few things. "These meetings- They get complicated and boring."

"No worries," Kai said while closing the fridge door with his butt. His hands were full with a plate, utensils, and food. To his surprise, Selja jumped up and placed a pickle on his pile. "Thanks?" Selja was cute in her ways, but also very weird, he decided. "I'll be in my cabin or on the pier if you need me."

Just as he maneuvered out of the door he heard a whisper from Selja. "What? I like him. He's cute." It brought a smile to his face as he walked away.

---

Kai pinched the bridge of his nose. Hoping to reduce the oncoming headache. It's been two months since he started staying at Björn's. With each passing day, he felt worse for abusing Björn's hospitality. That's why he had started sending batches of job applications. The drawback was that batches of rejection letters came back.

"Nothing?"

Kai turned away from the computer to see Björn leaning against the doorframe.

"Yeah. Three years - nearly four - of blank space on your resume isn't helping, I guess."

"You know, you don't have to jump back in yet, right?" Björn asked. "Maybe talk with Antje about it."

Kai slumped back into the chair. "I did talk to her yesterday. Yes, she thinks it is too early too. But I can't help myself. I feel- Useless. Three years of not contributing to society. And now I am living at your expense."

"You know that I don't mind, right?" Björn walked over and took a seat nearby. "Look. I am not rich, but I've got money to spare. No wife or girlfriend. Parents are far away. What else am I gonna spend it on? Helping a friend is a good use for it."

"I know," Kai admitted. Even to himself, he sounded tired. "It's just- How I tick. I want to be useful. To contribute. That's in my DNA. I know I have to change, but it is hard."

"Maybe you need to step out of yourself for a bit," Björn said more to himself than to Kai. Abruptly, he stood up. "Wait here. I've got to discuss some things with friends. Maybe they can help you."

"Sure," Kai agreed, but it was too late. Björn was already out of the door. Walking with such purpose that Kai couldn't help, but see where he went. He half expected to see Björn call someone. Trade in some favors or such. Instead, Kai saw him walking over to some of the land-based tanks. Not every fish raised here could be done so in the fjord. A few were from far away and it couldn't even be risked for them to get free. It could mess up the local wildlife.

Björn came back out with five Japanese fish that Kai couldn't even pronounce their names. Maybe as a bribe? But instead of walking to his van and driving off, Björn walked past the pier and towards the mouth of the fjord. Well past the submerged fence. Standing there, it didn't take long until five seals emerged.

"Don't tell me it is that Selkie nonsense again," Kai said while spying out of the window. One by one, the fish were tossed to a seal and then, Björn just stood there. Maybe talking to the seals or maybe just putting on a show for Kai.

The seals got more animated. Bopping their heads up and down before heading back into the water. Only then Björn came back to the house. Before Kai could even say anything, Björn spoke up. "Come. I've got to show you something."

Kai sighed. Here comes part two of the Selkie prank. He was sure of it. But maybe getting along with it was exactly what he needed. The last few days he had been too much in his own head again. He wondered how transparent the prank would be this time. Maybe he will get a chuckle out of it. And he wouldn't mind seeing Selja or any of the other neighborhood women naked again.

They walked past the spot where Björn had struck a deal with the seals. It was a short hike out of the fjord. It turned out that Björn's fjord was actually the offshoot of a larger fjord. After five minutes they came to a stop and Kai didn't even need to ask why they did. About thirty meters out in the water, a small pile of stones and boulders broke through the surface of the water.

"You see this tiny island?"

"Not much of one," Kai remarked.

"There is a small path leading from here to the island. Just about thirty centimeters below the surface." Björn showed the start of the path and drew with his hand a straight line to the biggest Boulder. "The water here is cold. But in the night, the day after tomorrow, for a brief time it will turn warm. I want you to be here. Strip naked and walk towards that island."

A million replies went through Kai's head, but in the end, the smart ass in him won. "Let me guess. Some naked women will wait for me?"

Björn only gave him a knowing grin and walked back to the fishery. While walking away, saying over his shoulder: "Well, why don't you show up and find out?"

Kai nearly replied with another smart-ass remark, but something stopped him. Looking out to the pitiful pile of boulders, he got thinking. Maybe Björn was on the right track. Not about the Selkies, no. Maybe Kai took life too seriously. Maybe he should jump over his own shadow and play along with the prank. What could be the worst that could happen? That he might actually have fun? And if Björn recruited his neighbors to go streaking again, who was Kai to say no to that?

---

Kai dipped a finger into the water and immediately pulled back. "Fuck, that is cold."

What was he even doing here? There is humoring a friend and there is pure stupidity. Nervous, he combed through his hair. It was close to midnight and the moon was high up. A full moon too. Even without the flashlight he carried, he could make out his surroundings. Under the beam of his light, the pitiful pile of rocks one might call an island could be seen too.

Kai took a step back. "Nothing can convince me to get in there. I'll freeze my balls off." The last part he nearly shouted out. For the benefit of Björn. Surely his friend was somewhere in the nearby bushes. Eager to see how this prank turned out.

But Kai was quick to revise his statement. If one of the five beautiful neighbors were part of the joke, they might get into trouble. Maybe even frostbite or something in this frigid water. It was so cold that it was- Kai crooked his head. That couldn't be right. Wisps of steam rose from the water's surface. For about twenty meters to each side of the hidden path and around the island.

Fighting with himself, he finally approached the shore again. Once more, he dipped his finger in again and was positively surprised. The water wasn't just warm, but even slightly hot.

"Underground thermal vent?" Kai mused aloud. Then dismissed the idea. Surely he would see bubbles then. "Maybe Björn buried some floor heating or so?" That appeared unlikely too. "Magic." The one word had some finality to it. It had to be magic. But was it natural magic or something conjured by Björn?

"Alright. You want to play. I'll play." Kai started to strip out of his clothes. The water was hot now, but he still didn't want to get them soggy. Once naked, Kai was quick to step into the water. The air was heated up slightly, but not enough for his comfort. It was better over the water, but Kai quickly decided swimming over to the island was better. He even deviated slightly from the path. Björn had been right. It wasn't that deep below the surface and he'd sure hurt himself swimming there.

Halfway to the island, a wave washed over Kai. Waves weren't unusual. A fjord was, after all, connected to the ocean. However, this one had come opposite the normal flow. Now that he paid attention, he felt more and more tiny waves lapping at him. Then, in the pale moonlight, he spotted shapes darting through the water.

Furiously, Kai tried to remember if they had sharks around here. A half-forgotten fact about fermented shark as a delicacy drifted through his mind. But was that here or in another of the surrounding countries?

Determined to not find out, Kai doubled his efforts to reach the island. Just as he made it, a seal jumped on the rock beside him. He nearly laughed out loud in relief. Of course, it was a seal. Björn probably had trained them enough for this little show.

Heating water was one thing, but the chances of this seal being a Selkie? Kai still doubted it was true. But he looked forward to finding out just how Björn intended to switch out the seals for women.

"You want a belly rub?" Kai asked as the seal rolled on its back. Only to take a step back as a seam appeared on the seal. Slender arms pushed through. Then a head appeared. She pushed out her torso and the volume of the seal's body deflated. By the time she pulled out her hips, the body was nearly flat to the ground. Like discarded skin. Kai was baffled. It was true. "Selkies are real."

Carefully, the Selkie rolled up her seal skin and placed it away on the small island. Only then she turned around and walked towards Kai. In the pale moonlight, he recognized her. She was one of the neighbors Björn had introduced. A splash behind him made him turn around. Two more seals had emerged from the water, but while Kai had been distracted by the first Selkie, two others had already slipped on land and started to discard their seal skin. One of them was Selja the pickle thief.

"This might not be a prank after all," Kai murmured, but then was quickly hushed by the first Selkie.

She slowly circled Kai while the other Selkies joined them in their human forms. When she reached out with her hand, she felt warm on his skin. Her hand roamed over his chest. Gently. As if she was exploring. At last, she stopped behind Kai. Her arms circled him in a hug.

Then, he felt her nails be placed right above his heart. As Kai watched, she pushed them into his skin. A seam appeared. Starting at his torso and extending up and down his body. Kai was stunned as she pulled apart the seam and creamy white breasts appeared. He could feel them too as his former skin glided over them. A narrow waist emerged. Followed by generous hips. Selja and another Selkie arrived. They helped free slender arms and legs. The one behind pulled the skin away from Kai's face and he could step out. Left behind was skin.

His skin. He wasn't Kai anymore. At least, not his body. It felt different. Lighter in some regard. More dexterous. Unfamiliar. Strange. His new slender hands cupped his breasts. It was an experience he would never expect to have. Yes, there were always rumors of someone switching genders by magic. This was New Terra after all. But he hadn't expected that it would happen to him.

The sound of splashing water drew his attention away. Four of the Selkies were playing in the surf. Running around. Playing tag? Selja was caught and as her companions scattered too quickly, she got a mischievous grin as she eyed Kai. Storming over, she showered him with droplets of water that rained on his new soft skin. Then, he felt her touch his chest, before scampering off.

A little confused, Kai turned around. The Selkie who had first emerged had folded up his original skin and placed it neatly by the side of the seal skins the Selkies had deposited. Just as Kai was about to open his mouth, she giggled and dove into the water. It looked like he had to play their game if he wanted answers.

Diving into the water himself revealed just how different his new body felt. The water flowed differently around his new feminine curves. It wasn't entirely unpleasant. It took him a while to catch one of the Selkies. They clearly were better swimmers and Kai wasn't used to this body yet. It took the betrail of one Selkie to another that Kai tagged one. However, before Kai could ask a question, Selja dragged him off. It was his turn to be hunted. Along with four other Selkies.

After a while, Kai let go of his questions. They could wait for later. It was fun, this little game of tag. He couldn't remember the last time he had played. As teenager? No, it was probably longer ago. But at the moment, he didn't care anymore that it might be childish or that he wasn't in his normal body. It was the chase that counted. The little betrayals and feats of outsmarting hunter or prey. For a while, he just let go. Of being Kai. All his worries. An uncertain future. It faded away.

When one of the Selkies stopped him, Kai smelled betrayal. Selja was on the hunt and coming fast. But, instead of tagging him, she looked worried. The game stopped and they dragged him over to the small island. Only now, Kai noticed himself shivering. The wisps of steam had vanished and the water had grown cold again.

They unfolded his original skin for him. Opening so he could climb in. For a short moment, Kai hesitated. Did he even want to go back to being Kai? All the burdens he carried. The past that always loomed over him. But the Selkies insisted and Kai snapped out of it. Stepping into his familiar skin. They help align his arms and legs. Then, the seam closed. The swallowed the last vestiges of womanhood before his eyes. And within seconds he was male again.

It felt odd at first, yet also reassuring. But most of all, he still felt cold. The Selkies dragged him through the water. Now ice-cold again. Helped him to his bundle of clothes he had discarded earlier. With each layer he added, warmth returned to him. And, at last, he managed to close his thick jacket without help.

The splashing of water clued Kai in that the Selkies were leaving. As a group, they swam over to the island. Each one taking their skin and stepping into it. A heartbeat later, only seals remained. Slipping into the water a moment later.

With stiff legs, Kai started to walk back to his cabin. To a warm bed. All the while thinking. Had it been real what he had just experienced? And what did it promise for his future? While tired, those and other questions kept him up for a while.

---

Breakfast the next morning was awkward. Both friends sat silently while eating their share. Kai inside was a turmoil, but more than anything, he was peeved. Björn didn't even look smug. Not acknowledging that something strange had happened to Kai. Something wonderful.

At last, it fell to Kai to speak up. Putting down his knife after half spreading butter on his slice of bread, he looked at his friend. "So- Not a prank."

"Not a prank," Björn confirmed. He gave Kai a smile. Not the kind of smile that said told-you-so. It was a genuine smile. "So, you remember last night? Some people put it off as a dream. Rather not acknowledge the fact of what happened to them."

"How could I not?" Kai asked seriously. "One moment they were seals and then-"

"They were women," Björn concluded. "That's what Selkies do."

"And I was-" Kai trailed off.

"Also a woman," Björn added softly.

"You watched?" The was no malice in Kai's question. Just curiosity.

"I didn't need to. This was between you and them. As for how I know-" Björn pushed his chair away from the table and then started to shrug first out of his pullover and then out of the shirt beneath. He put his fingers to the middle of his chest and pulled. A seam appeared and the skin parted. Beneath, a woman emerged. She freed her head and torso, before addressing Kai. "Sometimes, I take a break from being Björn, and then, I am Noril for some time."

Kai was shocked silent. The very friend he had known since childhood now sat there as a woman. A shapely one at that. With blond hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. He could sort of see traces of his features in her face. And as Kai watched, she shrugged off the rest of Björn's skin. Freeing her long legs.

"You- " Kai pointed at her, but his mind refused to string together a coherent sentence behind it. At last, he managed to squeeze out one more word: "Selkie?"

"Not really, no," the woman now going by Noril replied. She put not only Björn's clothes on a nearby chair, but also his skin. Only then she addressed Kai again. "Selkies are seals. They just happen to have developed the skill to shed their skin and emerge as a human woman. A skill that they learned to share. Let me ask you a question. What would happen if a Selkie taught their skill to a woman?"

Confronted with something to solve, the chaos in Kai's mind ebbed away. At least, for now. His mind had something to focus on. A riddle, maybe. If a woman could shed her skin, what would emerge? His first impulse was to say as a man. It had bent Björn's gender after all. His own too in the night before.

But something struck him as wrong. Did Selkies change their gender when they shed their skin? Kai wasn't sure. Björn had said they developed the skill to emerge as a woman. Maybe just like that because of the local legends. Maybe this had influenced the skill or made it possible in the first place.

But a woman was already a woman. There wasn't anything to emerge that was different, right? "Nothing," Kai gave an answer and immediately saw he was wrong by the smile of his not-quite-familiar-anymore friend.

"One would think so, right? The answer is, that if a woman with this skill sheds her skin, a new woman would emerge." Noril leaned back grinning. Steepling her fingers behind her head. "You see, the legends say a beautiful woman emerges. What is beautiful? Who judges that? It appears the answer is that the emerging woman is the idealized version of herself. What she thinks is her ideal form."

Kai nodded. It made sense. And realizing it started to ground him. This wasn't just some random thing that happened to him or Björn. There was a logic behind it. A reason. That, he could deal with.

Of course, there was a logical next step. "You say, they teach their skill. Can I-" He motioned pulling his skin apart at his chest.

"Maybe," Noril admitted. "You see, there aren't many who know about Selkies. That they are real. Even in these parts. There aren't surveys or studies. Some can do it by themselves after the first change. Most need two. I haven't heard of anyone needing more than three. You've got to try to find out."

Kai was game. Yes, this was New Terra. There had always been stories about magic feats and strange phenomena. Even about powerful technology that could accomplish impossible things. But they always happened to other people. Not to him. Nor to anyone in his surroundings. His life had been mundane. Boring even. And now it had finally happened. Yes, turning into a woman was strange. Not something he had contemplated before. Something special happened to him and he'd be dawned if he let that opportunity slip by.

Mimicking Björn from before, Kai undressed until he was bare-chested. "What now?"

"Do you remember what the Selkie did before your seam appeared?" Noril asked. Now leaning forward. Eager to see what would happen too. "How it felt when it did. Concentrate on this strange, but wonderful feeling. And then, try. It either works, or it won't. Just be aware, if you draw blood, you definitely doing it wrong."

Kai chuckled, then took a few calming breaths. The Selkie had placed her fingers right above his heart. Then pushed down, into his flesh, and then apart. When he placed his own, they were trembling. There was a bit of nervousness in him. The rest was anticipation. A last calming breath and he pushed down his fingers.

It took longer than the first time. A seam appeared. Traveling downward from his fingers to his crotch and at the same time upwards, to his face. It split open without any pain. Once more, soft pale skin was revealed. Followed by a handful of breasts. Not too much and not too little. A perfect size in Kai's opinion.

The seam split open further still and Kai could now work out his hands and head. It was then that Noril clapped her hands and exclaimed: "A blond! Now I don't have to tell you to stuff any blond jokes. Who sits in a glass house shouldn't throw stones, right?"

Reaching up, he indeed caught a strand of blond hair. It wasn't as light as Noril's. Hers betrayed her northern heritage. His own was rather a dirty blond. Speaking of the mix of ancestors. He hadn't noticed the night before, but his new hair was long. Reaching past his shoulders, but not by much.

"Come on," Noril said standing up. "Get the rest of you out. There is something I've got to show you."

Kai did his best. It was harder without the help of Selkies. Getting the skin off her hips was like peeling off jeans that were too tight. At last, he was out. A full woman and the skin of his male self in his arms. Looking at it, it wasn't as gruesome as he had feared. Noril was a step further. Having folded the skin of Björn and having tucked the bundle under her arm. She was naked - as was Kai - but didn't seem bothered by it.

He realized that on some level, he should freak out. Yet Kai found himself calm. Intrigued even. Whatever pangs of fright he might have, the Selkies had scattered last night. Folding up his skin, Kai had to ask: "What now?"

Noril held her finger up. "Rule number one. Keep your skin safe."

That made sense to Kai. "And rule number two?"

Noril beamed. "Why, have fun, of course."

She led him to a locked room. Kai always had thought it was where Björn kept his files and stuff. Now, Noril showed him a seven-digit code that opened the door. Only proceeding once Kai could remember and input the code himself.

Beyond was a staircase that led down to a basement Kai hadn't known was there. It was spacious. Filled with shelves and cabinets. What drew his attention was the large floor-to-ceiling mirror. As he stepped closer, so did the reflection of a woman. He had never seen her, yet retained an aura of familiarity. She looked like his sister might have looked, if he had any. He could see his features within her. Just softened up. Her hair was a dirty blond. Not as dark blond as Kai's original hair, but not as light as Björn's or Noril's by far. Her eyes were pure grey. Not the blue-grey he had as Kai.

She wasn't the most striking beauty Kai had ever seen. No feature made her stand out. She hadn't the largest chest or widest hips. She wasn't super toned like an athlete or thin like a bean. But she was attractive. Certainly, she could work as a model. But not quite supermodel material.

"You know-" Noril leaned on Kai so he could see both of them in the mirror. "She needs a name. I am not calling you Kai while you are her."

Kai knew Noril was right. She needed a name. Yet, he hesitated. Choosing a name for her would make it more permanent. It would be admitting that he would be her more often. That shedding his skin would become a regular thing. Kai hadn't thought as far. He just had accepted that it was even possible and happening to him. But if Noril was right, choosing when to become her was up to Kai. It was literally at his fingertips.

Did he want to be her? Kai didn't even know if he liked it yet. Yes, it was strange and new. But he knew nothing of being a woman. Maybe he would hate it. Granted, maybe he liked it and would become her again. He simply wasn't sure yet. Kai needed more to base his decision on.

"Why do you do it?"

Noril got thoughtful. But not for long. "Sometimes, being Björn can become a bit tedious. I mean, I like being Björn. I am happy for the most part. But it still feels good to be someone else for a while. Like dressing up for Halloween or carnival. Just more so. Most often just for a few hours. Sometimes for a day or two. Stepping out of Björn allows me to duck out from all my responsibilities. To be unburdened for a while. And I thought, maybe that's what my good friend Kai needs too."

Right. Kai didn't need to give up on himself. Just a breather. A little vacation of himself. He could do that. In fact, put into that perspective, it might be exactly what he needed. Not just now. If anything he had learned from his long stint of burnout that he needed something to help release the pressure. Now, he wished he had this wondrous ability years ago. Maybe with it, life had never become that burdensome and overbearing.

"Juliane" he decided. No, she. If she wore a female name and had a female body, then Juliane had to think of herself as such.

"Well, welcome to womanhood," Noril said. Giving her friend a hug. "There are many nice things about it. Of course, there are hardships too."

Now, Juliane got worried. "Such as?"

Noril laughed and gave Juliane a playful slap on the butt. "Well, we can't run around naked all day, and let me tell you, getting dressed as a woman is a little more complicated than choosing jeans and a t-shirt of roughly your size."

"Why not?" Juliane asked. Not really contesting the notion, but she felt a bit like teasing. "I could go for the tomboy look."

"Sure you can. Nothing is stopping you. But-" Noril walked over to one cabinet and opened its door. A multitude of brasserie lay behind. "Even tomboys need the right support if they are endowed enough. And girl, believe me, you need it."

Juliane looked down. A few seconds passed. "I haven't thought about that," she admitted. Clearly, there were things she hadn't thought of. Noril had. As Björn, she had plenty of time to plan for it.

Juliane stepped closer to the underwear. She knew how to get a bra off a girl. But into it? Couldn't be that hard, right? Then a new thought crossed her mind. She opened a few more drawers and cabinets. All filled with female clothing. "That looks a bit much for one person. Are you sure being Noril is a rare occasion?"

Noril didn't even miss a beat. "Someone forgot that I have five Selkies living on my doorstep. And sometimes their friends visit too. You expect me to let them run around naked? Sometimes I'll even take them to the nearest city."

"Right. Good point." Juliane eyed the lingerie on display. She picked up a bra that she thought might fit. "Maybe this one?"

"That's the spirit, but no," Noril shot her down. "One of the strange skills one picks up when hosting Selkies is that I could work in a boutique or even lingerie store." She grabbed a nearby measuring tape that Juliane hadn't spotted before. "What we need, are your measurements. Told you it wouldn't be as easy."

"I surrender. The point goes to you. So, work your magic."

"Oh, I will," Noril promised. "And then, you'll be my dress-up doll."

It suddenly dawned on Juliane that Noril's motivation might not be altogether altruistic.

An hour later, Juliane was sitting at the breakfast table again. Having successfully escaped the clutches of Noril. Stating that she was still hungry wasn't just a means to escape the fate of a dress-up mannequin. Now, munching on a new slice of bread with herring salad on it, Juliane was surprised by yet another small little, but still strange, detail. Her food tasted differently. No, it probably tasted the same, but her new body interpreted it just slightly differently.

"Would you stop?"

Juliane looked up to see a grinning Noril shaking her head.

"Stop what?"

"This is the third time I see you trying to adjust your bra," Noril pointed out. "I thought we found one that fits you well. It isn't pinching, is it? If so, we might need to head to the city to pick up something fitting."

Juliane blushed. "No. I guess I just haven't gotten used to it yet."

"Remember-" Noril suddenly sounded a lot more serious. "You can stop at any time. If it gets too much for you, just slip back into your skin and be Kai again. I don't want to push you into anything you aren't comfortable with."

Juliane gave her friend the best serious look she could manage. Placing her right arm on the table and holding up her hand. More specifically her fingernails which had been adorned with pink nail polish.

"Yeah. I mean- It completes your outfit so well-" Noril helpfully shut up. Knowing she was on lost ground.

Juliane gave an amused snort. She actually didn't mind the nail polish. She was glad that she had successfully vetoed the makeup. In no way Juliane was ready for that yet.

As for her outfit, it wasn't as bad as she had feared. It wasn't skimpy. If anything it was slightly too warm. The layers of top, shirt, and pullover were clearly meant for the colder weather outside. Most of it wasn't that different from wearing male clothes. Perhaps aside from wearing female underwear, Juliane found wearing a skirt a strange, but oddly freeing experience. The skirt was ankle length and didn't leave any of the legs bare. A plus in this frigid weather. Her legs were unburdened by tight jeans or other pants. And with each step, the fabric glided over her skin. Would she ever get used to the feeling? Maybe, for now, she should enjoy it.

Instead of putting Noril more on the spot, Juliane wolfed down the rest of her breakfast. "I am going for a quick walk. Before your workers show up."

Noril stood up herself. "I would join you, but I guess Björn is needed. You know, there is no reason for you to rush. If you want you can stay as Juliane longer. The workers are used to seeing new women walking about now and then."

"But- I am not used to being a woman yet," Juliane admitted. "I kind of fear messing up somehow. You know my secret. Our secret, I should say. You don't count. But they-"

"Don't worry. I need to get changed. Enjoy your walk."

As Noril walked back to change into Björn's skin, Juliane walked to the door. Her heart was beating faster. There was no one out there yet. Still, she felt like leaving the safe harbor once more. At last, she stepped out. Determined to enjoy herself for a little while, before it was time to change back into Kai.

---

"Do you need a break?"

Kai glared at Björn, but still took a step to the side and leaned against a boulder. His breathing was slightly ragged.

"I didn't know I was that much out of shape," Kai admitted. Why had he agreed to the hiking trip again? Granted, leaning against the stone, he had a fantastic view of the fjord. Not the one owned by Björn. They had left that one behind for a few kilometers. First, they walked along the shore. Then, they ascended to the top and were now starting to walk back.

"Look, if it is too much, there is a road on the other side of the hill." Björn pointed to a hill not far away. "I could leave you there and get the van."

"No. No. I am fine," Kai insisted. "Just needed a breather."

"Are you sure?" Björn sounded concerned.

"Look-" Kai took a quick mental calculation. "Do you think we can make it back before nightfall?"

"If it was just me, I would say yes. But together. Maybe."

"I bet we will make it before nightfall," Kai boasted. "If not? I'll be Juliane the whole day tomorrow. And you can dress me up how you like."

Björn gave a chuckle. "That's not much of a punishment. You've been Juliane three times in the last week. One might think you've gotten a taste for being her."

"Maybe-" Kai admitted blushing. "But I never stayed as Juliane for more than one or two hours. This is all day we are talking here."

"Alright. Alright." Björn raised his hands in surrender. "I'll take your bet. Tell you what, if your proposed punishment isn't enough, I'll add a carrot to your stick. If you make it before nightfall, I'll be Noril for the whole next day. How does that sound?"

"Like a deal," Kai confirmed and offered his hand.

Björn shook on it. Or tried to. After one up and down, Kai let go and was marching past him. Björn needed a moment to comprehend. "Wait a moment. Did you only pretend?"

Kai, by now a few meters ahead, didn't answer directly. "You are just as predictable as when we were teenagers."

Björn shook his head while grinning. Then headed after Kai. It didn't matter if the bet was won or lost to him. It was just worth it to see his friend in high spirits again.

---

"Enjoying the view?"

Kai needed a moment to parse the question. He had been lost in thought. Coincidentally, he had been staring at Noril. Her butt no less. It was what spurred his thoughts. Noril was attractive. When he had been Juliane, she had noticed too. But more on an academic level. Now, as man, the knowledge was more on an instinctual level. The very thought that he was, right now, attracted to his childhood friend left Kai bemused.

Not willing to share his thoughts, Kai tried humor. "Of course. You have a beautiful fjord here. How could I not enjoy the view?"

"Oh, just the fjord?" Noril turned and now leaned against the railing on the pier. She then struck a pose for Kai who was lazing around on a nearby chair. "Are you sure?"

Kai gulped. Björn had stayed true to the bet. The whole morning Noril had been around. Maybe to tease him, she wore revealing clothes too. In this weather, that amounted to a skintight top and pullover and a knee-length skirt

A strange thought crossed Kai's mind. Noril wasn't flirting with him, right? Not for real. Unsure how he felt about it, Kai took a swig of beer and chose to remain silent.

Noril snickered. Then her mood sobered up. "I have a favor to ask."

Kai's pulse quickened. She wasn't proposing something indecent, he hoped. Yet feared she might.

"I promised the Selkies I take them out to town next weekend." That one sentence made Kai relax again. However, Noril wasn't done. "Part of the payment actually. For teaching you to shed your skin. Anyway, I could use help herding them. I mean, they look human and are just as intelligent as humans, but on the inside, they are still seals. Shed skin or not. One does best to remember that."

For a moment, Kai was lost in the daydream of what shenanigans human-shaped seals would get up to. Then, he took the question seriously. "Sure. Could be fun. Do you- Should I come as Kai or Juliane?"

"That's up to you," Noril said with a shrug. "I have to go as Björn. That's what the police expect to find when they look at my driving license. You can come as Kai or you could join the ladies on their shopping trip as Juliane."

"That sounds like it could get expensive," Kai mused.

"Oh, it does. You will hear me bitch and moan over every purchase," Noril promised. "But the truth is, it will be mostly for show. A Selkie's grasp on the concept of money is tenuous at best. Don't worry. I can afford it. Doesn't matter much if I pay for five or six ladies."

Kai leaned back and gave it a thought. He still hadn't ventured outside the fjord as Juliane and was mostly still hiding away when Björn's workers showed up for their shifts. Going out to the city was scary. But going as a group like that? Maybe it would mask his own unfamiliarity with a female body by the weirdness of Selkies let loose.

"I think I'll be joining you as Juliane."

"Great. Now I have an inside man - woman - to help me from them getting into trouble." Noril rubbed her hands eagerly, then pushed off the railing. "I think I'll get started on making lunch."

As she walked away, Kai caught himself checking her out. This might lead to trouble later, but he couldn't quite bring himself to stop.

---

"Ladies, one person at a time for the changing stall," Juliane shouted. Björn hadn't been kidding. Herding Selkies wasn't easy. When they got excited they had the maturity and patience of six-year-olds. She looked for help but found Björn had his own troubles. One of the Selkies tried to climb into the window display and pose like a mannequin.

"But I want to try this on," Selja exclaimed after trotting over. Holding a lemon-colored crop top with the print of a large pickle right in front of Juliane's face. "And Björn gets upset if we change outside a stall."

"I would too," Juliane assured the Selkie. Meanwhile, pushing down the crop top. Why anyone would put a pickle on a shirt was beyond Juliane until she now got a good look at it. Proclaiming proudly 'Let me show you how I can swallow your cucumber'. Juliane groaned. Even more so as she saw Selja's excited face. Could she explain the innuendo to her and make sure the Selkie knew how inappropriate it was? Probably not. Instead, Juliane led her to the small line that had formed before the changing stall. "Don't worry. You'll get the chance to try it on when it is your turn. Just a little patience."

Pouting, Selja complied and Juliane got to take a step back. The shop was a mess. How five women - even if they were Selkies- had managed it, was beyond her. Despite that, she had been present when the chaos unfolded. Seeing quite a few scattered garments, Juliane started to fold up some of the discarded garments left in the Selkies' wake.

"Oh, honey, don't do that," a sales clerk exclaimed. Surprising Juliane in turn who had been too focused on the Selkies. "That's my job. Unless you want it. I am hiring. The way you wrangle these Selkies- I could use someone like you."

"Wrangle these-" Then it dawned on Juliane. Making her give a nervous fake laugh. "Selkies? Oh, no. These are just women. Normal human women. Selkies are just a legend, right?"

"Girl, I know a Selkie when I see one. With or without their skin. Call it a perk of someone being the daughter of one."

Juliane let out a relieved sigh. She hadn't somehow exposed the secret of the Selkies. But a new thought occurred to her. "You are half Selkie? I didn't know that was possible."

The clerk shook her head. "Technically, no. You see, a Selkie without her skin is one hundred percent human. So, I am too. But I learned a lot from my mother when she was around."

"I see." Juliane's eyes fell on Björn, who just successfully got the Selkie out of the window display. "That's why he brought us here. Less exposure if we are around someone who is in the know."

The clerk laughed. "Oh, no. He is clueless. As are the Selkies. Maybe I should tell him, but it is so much more amusing this way. But back to my offer. Do you take it?"

"Offer?" Juliane tried hard to remember. "What offer?"

"I was offering you a job, girl. I could use someone for the afternoon shift on weekdays. When it gets a bit more crowded. Interested?"

Juliane was stumped. Someone was actually offering her a job. After all the rejections, she hadn't really expected to find something. Much less so by accident. Working here was a departure from her usual work. In fact, it might be a deal breaker.

"Interested, yes. But I don't have any experience working as anything else than office work."

"Excellent! Then I don't have to make you unlearn the wrong stuff and bring you up right. Half the fun is teaching you anyway. You wouldn't believe what some department stores teach young people these days."

Juliane had a feeling she would find out soon. She got a job. The thought was bouncing around in her head and lifted her spirits.

It still did when their group sat down half an hour later. It was in an American-style restaurant. After all the excitement, everyone was hungry.

"Make sure they put extra pickles on mine," Selja demanded from Björn.

"You can tell them yourself," Björn assured her, before turning to Juliane and giving her a short roll of his eyes.

"I have news." It nearly burst out of her as her excitement hadn't ebbed away. Once she had Björn's attention, she laid it all out. "The boutique we were just in. The owner offered me a job. I didn't even apply. She just walked up to me and offered. Only a five-hour shift in the afternoon on weekdays, but it's better than nothing. And it isn't too much at once. I can ease back into it."

"Congratulations." He sounded genuine to her. "I guess it means we'll be seeing you as Juliane a lot more from now on."

Juliane was puzzled. "Why?"

Björn's face lit up as he figured something out. Juliane didn't have to wait long to find out what. "Well, unless you snuck away to slip into your Kai-skin again, they sort of expect you as Juliane to show up, right?"

"Bullocks!" Juliane leaned back. But was that a deal breaker? "I can do a half day as Juliane. No problem. Can't be that hard."

"It isn't," Björn assured her. "I just wanted to make sure you know what you are getting into."

He was always looking out for her. At that moment, Juliane could have kissed him. She felt grateful enough. But the server showed up and a moment later the shouted word "pickles" could be heard throughout the whole restaurant.

---

Juliane awoke with a long yawn and a cat-like stretch of her limbs. It was Saturday. There was no work today. Not that she really minded hers. It was a far cry from boring office work. Most of the time she was gossiping with her co-workers anyway.

A quick shower and she started to dress. By now, it had become quite familiar. It's been nearly three months since she had first become Juliane. In the last two, she even spent most of her time as Juliane rather than Kai. Switching each day became tedious and if she had to show up to work as Juliane then she might as well stay as her for the weekdays.

Throwing on something light, she had to add her winter jacket and heavy boots to make it to the main house. There was only light snow outside. Less than twenty centimeters. Juliane hurried to make it inside. Even the short walk had her shivering.

Björn was already up. Setting up their table for breakfast. Juliane hurried to slip out of boots and jacket so she could help. By now, they worked well in concert. Aside from a short "good morning", they worked in silence. Juliane liked it this way. The familiarity. The habit. She cherished it.

Only once their breakfast was done, they talked. Today, it was Björn who spoke up first. "Any plans for today?"

Juliane wet her lips. She had noticed something in the last few weeks. It was time to test her theory. "Nothing much." She tried to sound casual. She raised her coffee mug and took a sip. "Once this one is empty, I am going to slip into Kai again. Give Antje a call. It has been a while since I last spoke to her."

"Good idea. You have been spending a lot of time as Juliane lately. Always nice to see my buddy again." Björn took a sip of his own coffee and for a moment, Juliane thought she had been wrong. But Björn wasn't finished. "Actually, I think I will join you switching. Be Noril for some time."

Juliane's pulse quickened. She had been right. It took her a while to notice. Lately, whatever gender Juliane was, Björn chose to casually be the opposite. They always had chemistry. As Kai and Björn or as Juliane and Noril. But it was a little bit more if one was a man and the other a woman.

There was some anticipation in the air and Juliane hurried to empty her morning portion of caffeine. When she stood up, Juliane wasn't surprised to see Björn do the same. She felt giddy as they walked to the locked wardrobe where they kept their skins and the small hoard of clothing. By now, Juliane only kept one set there for Kai and one set for Juliane. The rest was in her cabin. Still, she changed here so she could lock her skin away when not needed.

They both started to undress and when Björn looked like he had trouble slipping out of his pullover, Juliane made her move. "Let me help you with that." His chest was freed in moments and Juliane couldn't help but rest her hands on his skin. To feel the muscles beneath.

"Juliane."

She looked up. He was so close. Now was the time. She leaned in and kissed him. Their lips met and time stood still. The first tender touch got more urgent as they both leaned into it.

"Are you sure?" Björn asked as they finally split to get air.

Juliane blushed. "I am not as good as Noril when it comes to flirting. Yes, I have noticed. If I am Kai you find reasons to be Noril. Just to tease? No, you flirt. No sense denying it. And I have seen the looks you give me when I am Juliane. You want me. And I want you. Both of you. Noril or Björn."

They kissed anew. More tender. They took their time. As they separated, Juliane took Björn's hand. "I think Kai and Noril can wait. There is something I want you to show me."

"And what is that?"

The longing in his eyes and voice gave butterflies to Juliane's stomach.

"Why, your bedroom of course."

Björn surprised her by scooping her up in his muscular arms. "As you wish."

---

The growling of her stomach brought a giggle to Juliane. "I guess we can't spend the whole day here."

Björn was only inches away and under the bedsheets, they were a lot closer. "We can try."

After a quick deep kiss, Juliane slipped out of the covers. Naked, she sauntered over to the door. "Not on an empty stomach. I don't want you to falter halfway in."

Björn was quick to catch up and kiss her neck. "Whatever you wish for, my lady."

Like a young star-crossed couple, they made their way down to the kitchen again. Cooking took longer than usual. They couldn't help but tease each other. And their meal was rather hurried.

Juliane was ready to drag Björn back to bed when he held her back. "Maybe we should switch after all?"

For a split second, worry grew within Juliane. "Why?"

"Because-" Björn sported a mischievous grin. "Noril has been waiting months to drag Kai to bed. She wants her fill too."

Juliane chuckled. "Oh, poor girl. I guess there is an obligation to fulfill."

Again, they headed to their secret wardrobe. This time, to change for real.

---

"I am kind of nervous," Kai admitted.

Noril gave him a reassuring hug. "You don't have to do it. Remember, this is your idea."

"No. I want this." He turned around to Noril. "I can't imagine going back. My place is here. With you."

"Then let's go."

It was easier said than done. Bureaucracy was, as always, tedious. And despite having the papers ready, they had to still wait for hours.

At last, they shuffled into the office of a middle-aged woman. "Mister Schildenfeld?"

"Yes, that's me," Kai confirmed. "Kai Schildenfeld."

She looked again over the papers they had handed in hours ago. "And you want to officially immigrate into our little country? That's nice. It says here you hold a job?"

"Yes. Part-time," Kai confirmed. A little nervous as technically it was Juliane who did. "For the past half year."

The woman nodded. "And it says here, your sponsor is Björn Mortensen, correct? You are aware the sponsor has to be present when handing in the application?"

"That would be me," Noril spoke up. Handing over her ID.

If the woman was phased, then she didn't show it. Just calmly taking it and running it through the computer. "Ah, yes. It is all there. I don't see any reason not to grant you citizenship, Mister Schildenfeld. Please come back in a week to claim your updated social ID."

"There is one more application I would like to hand in," Noril spoke up and surprised not just Kai with it. "These are the immigration papers for one Juliane Schildenfeld."

Kai was speechless. She hadn't mentioned her stunt before. Neither as Noril or as Björn. Kai just hoped this wouldn't ruin anything.

The case worker took the paper dutifully and glanced at it. Then turned to Noril. "Miss Mortensen. It is very uncommon for our government to issue dual identity papers. I don't see a history that would indicate a reason for a witness protection program and there is no indication of a religious past."

"Oh. Sorry. I forgot something." Noril hunted for something within her purse. As she found it, she gave a mischievous grin. "Seal of approval." She leaned over and stamped the second document with a small rubber stamp. It, indeed, left a small picture of a seal behind.

"Ah. You should have said so sooner." The woman pulled out her own stamp and placed a second seal in a different color right underneath Noril's. Then, she looked at Kai. "Mister Schildenfeld. In case you aren't aware, Selkies and humans who slip their skin show a slight shift in their aura. This can be detected. In this country and fourteen participating nations, this shift will be registered and taken into account when your soul-ID is read. To normal ID checks, you will either show up as Juliane or as Kai Schildenfeld. Depending if you slipped your skin or not. Please note that crimes committed show up on both IDs and higher government officials will see both IDs too. Is that understood? "

Kai was overwhelmed. Just how far had the Selkies spread their influence. Still, he managed a nod and a "Yes, mam."

"Then let me be the first to welcome you to your new home."

They shook and not soon after, Noril and Kai left the room. Once outside, Kai couldn't wait any longer. "I didn't know that was possible. Two IDs? Is it that important?"

Noril chuckled. "It saves a lot of time explaining. If you happen to be out of your skin and have to show your ID. And it has other advantages too. You can use both your ID halves to register for things double. Once as male and once as female. For example, when we get married we can-"

Kai stopped cold. "Get married?"

"I mean-" For once, Noril looked coy and unsure of herself. "If you want to get married."

"Of course, I want to!" Kai lifted Noril up in the air and kissed her when lowering down. "I just hadn't thought about it yet. Wow. So, we are engaged now?"

"Not so fast, Mister." Noril gave him a playful pout. "I am a traditionalist. I want a real proposal. Something romantic."

Kai was over the moon. Right now, he would agree to anything. "Of course, I will do my best."

"Good." Noril gave him a big grin. "Of course, Juliane can expect a big surprise from Björn too."

It dawned on Kai just how convenient two IDs were. Two proposals. Two weddings. A bachelor's and a bachelorette party to attend. He's got to experience the best things in life twice.

"Oh, my!" Kai exclaimed as another thought crossed his mind.

"What?" Noril dutifully asked.

"Now I have a good reason to clue Antje in on the skins," Kai revealed. "I've got to have her as my maid of honor."

"Me too!" Noril exclaimed. "Poor Antje. Wait till she has to chaperone a whole pod of Selkies as my bridesmaids."

That got a laugh out of Kai. Right now, he wouldn't change his life for anything. A far cry from a year ago. He not just rekindled a childhood friendship but found love. And all because he had learned to shed his skin.

The end.

---

Quick Author's Note

---

Hi there.

It is November and time for NaNoWrMo.
Yes, I am taking part. However, instead of channeling 50.000 words into one story, I was convinced to split it into as many short stories as I can.

Shedding Skin was the first one I finished. By vote on my discord server (Cassy's Library), the next story will be one for my Fashionable Witches universe. If you would like to help determine what kind of story I'll write after that, you are welcome to join my discord server and take part in the vote.

Until next time,
Cassy

Jerry cursed as he saw his landlord's daughter leaning against his door. Melody was trained up by her dear old dad to take over his business. That also meant she was the one reminding people late on their rent that they better show up with some money.

Before she could open her mouth, he cut her off. "My paycheck is due tomorrow. Your father knows that."

There was no love lost between them and both knew it. Still, she gave him a fake smile. Fitting as she looked so fake that she could star on Jersey Shore. "Of course, I know. I am not here for your rent- Yet. I am here to offer you a way to repay your debt. At least some of it."

Jerry stifled a sigh. There would go his free weekend down the drain. He was sure of it. "Want me to paint some fences again?"

"Oh no. Something more suitable for someone of your build. Miss Bates is too old to live on the third floor and we are moving her to a ground floor apartment. Fifty bucks. Not much, but someone in your position. Well beggars can't be choosers, right?"

He grounded his teeth. She got him there. He needed every dollar he could get his hands on. Even for a lousy job like that. "I'll do it."

"Great! Be there on Saturday at nine AM." Melody handed him a paper note and walked off.

Finally, he was alone. He fished for his keys and slipped into the broken-down room that his landlord called an apartment. Exhausted he let himself drop on his couch.

How had it come to this? Not the first time that he had wondered the very same thing. Just two years back he had been a star in his school's football team. Then he graduated. From there it all went to hell.

Talented, but not talented enough. That made him fail to get a scholarship. With marks below the average, his prospect in his hometown wasn't that great either.

To avoid having been told so every single day by his dad he decided to move out west. Maybe even all the way to California. Reality quickly caught up.

Three states. That's how far he has gotten. Now he flips burgers on weekdays and the odd jobs on weekends. Just enough to make rent and to barely live. He didn't even own a tv or pc.

Groaning he stood up and walked to his small gas stove. What's left of his evening was heating some can of food from the discounter and then some pages in a library book. He shook sadly his head. He used to be one of those that hazed bookworms. Now that was his only means of entertainment.

---

Saturday came and went. Just as he had predicted he was still at it on Sunday. Old Miss Bates has collected quite the hoard of trash in her lifetime. Of course, none of it could be thrown away. All this for fifty bucks. Jerry hated his life. Maybe he should go back east. Have his father tell him what a failure he was. At least it was one job where Jerry would have to do less.

Distracted by an absent mind, he didn't notice that a leather satchel was open. Half the content spilled on the floor as he moved it.
Cursing, he crouches down to gather the content. A bunch of faded and yellowed pages.

All of them were in neat handwriting, but so old that he had to squint to read the faded ink. Something about behavior and nature. Maybe a journal of a researcher? On some pages, he saw drawings. Though faded, he could make out that each drawing pictured a woman. Curiously they all had wings. Not of a bird or bat. More along the lines of dragonflies or butterflies.

Finally, he found the title page. "Manuscript - Almanac Of Pixies - First Edition"

Suddenly a voice startled him. "Oh, that. It was my uncles. He vanished when I was just seven. He wanted me to have it. Wrote it down in his will. Do you read a lot young man?"

Behind him stood Miss Bates. Who knew the old lady could be so sneaky. He started to put away the pages. "I guess. More of a recent development."

She gave him a smile that somehow every old lady perfected.
"Oh, in that case, why don't you keep it? With me, it only would gather more dust. And I already feel terrible that I can only pay you a hundred dollars for all your hard work."

Jerry grounded his teeth again. One hundred dollars? Melody said fifty. So she was keeping part of his pay. He couldn't wait to confront her. "Thanks, Miss Bates. I will treasure it." Or sell on eBay. Something he thought better than to say aloud.

---

Another grinding working week concluded and Jerry was happy to have two days of not flipping burgers or doing demeaning jobs for his landlord or his daughter. By now free days were so rare that he had to actually think about what he could do with the free time.

Sitting at his small kitchen table and eating, his gaze drifted towards the leather satchel. Sure. Why not. He could sift through it and look how much it was worth. Probably nothing.

Soon he found himself immersed in the manuscript. Miss Bates's uncle must have been some wacko. He thought Pixies are real. He wrote a whole book about them. Treated it as a serious field of study.
What intrigued Jerry the most was the consistency. In many works of fiction - especially complex ones - occurred errors and plot holes. Here, however, he could not find one inconsistency.

Slowly - because the writing was so faded - he learned about the pixies, their tribes, and races. According to lore and, if you believe the author, interviews with live Pixies each tribe represented an aspect of nature. Basic stuff like plants and trees. Or the elements. Even common behavior like wrath, mischief, or lust. For the last one, Jerry was especially disappointed to not find a drawing. Most of the other tribes had. He didn't take the whole book seriously, but he had to admit that having a lust pixie around would be kind of nice. Or hilarious.

Then he arrived at the last chapter and had to nearly laugh out loud.
The chapter words were very faded. Still, he could read: "How to summon a pixie…"

He snorted. Sure. Summon a pixie. Just like that. He was halfway to putting the book manuscript away when inspiration struck. Summoning things must be complicated. Fiction or not. So if he really wanted to find an inconsistency, he had to look there.

Once again he immersed himself in the book. Sure enough, it was complex. There were a bunch of ingredients listed for the main portion of the ritual and separate lists of ingredients for the different kinds of pixies you could summon.

Most of the ingredient list melted away as he figured out that each part had different alternative ingredients listed. If one wasn't growing in your part of the world there was another listed that would.

After maybe half an hour, he had made himself two lists. One for the main part and one for the aspect. Rent down to the local fauna and flora. To his surprise, none of the ingredients were expensive or rare. He even bet he could pick them all up in the nearby nature reserve. It would be a walk of one or two hours. All that for a ritual he didn't believe in?

He looked around his room. Nothing there he hadn't seen a thousand times before. He was starved for something new or exciting.
"I can't believe I am saying it, but let's summon a pixie!"

He was grinning like a madman and talking to himself didn't help to lessen the image. Thankfully he was alone. He grabbed his backpack and headed out. First, the library to pick up some books so he could identify the needed plants. Then the park.

---

On Sunday morning his tiny apartment looked like the hobby room of a housewife. Branches of wood, leaves, various local plants, sewing thread, and a few stripes of cloth littered it.

A part of him thought he was going mad. On the other hand, he had more fun than in a month and it only cost him about five bucks for the fabric and thread. He was busy bending and connecting the branches he found. The book called for a wooden circle. Much like a flower wreath just bigger. Then he had to add the plants to be sewing and tacking them on. Bigger parts had to be knotted on with strips of the cloth.

Finally, he was all done and on his floor was a wooden circle of about three-foot diameter. Decorated in a way that may be said, mad man. He checked twice if everything was done right. It looked like everything was in order to summon a female lust pixie. Being a red-blooded man no other pixie tribe would fit him.

With his last check done, he moved the ring over his improvised pool. A bunch of garbage bags taped together. The ritual called for water to be poured and he didn't want a mess. Or worse, the neighbor downstairs to complain to his landlord.

He stepped into the circle with a pitcher of water in his hand. Everything he knew of summoning rituals said that the summoned creature would be in the circle and the summoner outside. But then again all he knew was from pop culture.

"There we go. Countdown to the totally obvious disappointment that it didn't work in three .. two .. one .."
Slowly he emptied the pitcher. Letting a small flow of water flow over the wood and plants. He turned clockwise and slowly got the whole oversized wreath wet.
"Ritual complete!" he said to no one in particular.

Nothing had to be said actually. No incantation or dancing. That was it. Ritual complete. Jerry shrugged.
"Well, this was fun. What do I do now?"

He then noticed something particular. Try as he might he could not raise his foot to step out of the circle. It didn't take him long to notice the second odd thing. A slight mist of gray smoke lifted itself up from the wood of the circle. Slowly it drifted upwards. Not towards his half-open window. The smoke clung to him like living tendrils. Slowly it crept upward.

It reached his face and he took his first lung full of smoke. When he exhaled his mouth spewed out pink smoke. It took a few drags before he noticed that he was fine. No coughing or suffocating. That calmed him down and averted the panic attack that had been brewing.

Now, with the immediate danger gone, Jerry could think again. He was stuck and needed help. Shouting for help was the obvious thing to do so why hadn't he? He drew a deep breath of air and smoke and yelled for help with all his might.

Nothing left him, but a cloud of pink smoke. No sound escaped his lips. Just more pink smoke to mingle as mist on his room's floor.
As shouting for help wasn't an option, he took stock of his surroundings.

Below him was the circle. Slowly the wood and plans vaporized to gray smoke. It drew itself towards and upwards him. To be breathed in and exhaled as pink smoke. It, in turn, filled the floor. Only the gray circle of wood and smoke broke its domain.

Suddenly dread filled him. As he watched the last remains of wood and plants vanished. He drew in the last traces of gray. With nothing in its way, the pink cloud crashed onto him. A heat and warms filled him. Made him dizzy. Soon he didn't see anything, but pink. Heard nothing, but his heartbeat and his excited breathing.

Suddenly he lost the ground beneath him. He was in a free fall. How long he couldn't tell. Losing his consciousness before he hit the floor.

---

Jerry cursed as he woke up. He was under the canvas of a collapsed tent or something similar. Buried as he was he hardly saw any light. What he saw was a dim glow and started to crawl towards it. As he moved on all for he noticed strange things.

Besides waking up in a collapsed tent, he was naked and he felt strange. As if his body felt off. When he crawled forward something pulled on his back. Has someone glued stuff on him and it got caught in the folds of the tent and gave resistance? Something hung below him on his chest that his mind tried its best to ignore. His arms and legs felt weak. Had they lost mass? Finally, he arrived at the opening and dragged himself out.

What greeted him was so out of there that his mind refused to work for a few seconds. He was in his room. Only that his room hadn't the size of a stadium. Everything around him was gigantic. His kitchen chair was a small skyscraper. His fold-out couch might have as well been a cruise ship. Even his shoes had the size of trucks. It didn't get any better when his gaze drifted downward. The tent he had crawled out was his shirt. The weird feeling of his body by finding a female one now seen from the first-person perspective.

Jerry's mind chose this moment to skip all the usual feelings. Anger, fear, confusion, and denial had all to wait as he fainted again.

---

Jerry woke to a ringing sound. Not just any normal one. It was loud as if someone used a megaphone or played it on the biggest boombox. Groaning he opened his eyes and was at once blinded by the sunshine. Using his hand he could see the morning sun shining through his window. He could also see his window. Wide as a street block and floating in a gray sky that he identified a moment later as the wall of his room. The angry ringing was his phone. Something so out of reach that he would never answer it in time even if he wanted to.

Maybe it was the angry ringing that wouldn't let him faint again. This time he had to face reality. "I didn't summon a pixie. I frickin' became one!"

Looking down he saw what he dreaded. A lithe female body. Not overly curvy and with barely any breasts. For that small wonder, he was deeply grateful. He stood up and looked around his room. Only to spin around and show the phone the middle finger.
"Would you frickin' shut up?!"

Maybe it was his shout or the impatience of the caller. All he knew was that merciful silence greeted him.

Now oddly calm he started to take stock. He really had the body of a girl. Maybe a little underdeveloped physically. Not that he minded. As he examined his body further. His skin had a slight hue to it. Like someone had spray-painted bubblegum-pink over it. Flexing around he noticed that every part of him was evenly discolored. More so, he felt the slight tugging on his back again. He twisted and turned till he saw something swish behind him. A few tries later he caught a piece of it.

Wings! Of course, he had some. Apparently, every pixie had wings. Why was he even surprised to find them? He tucked on his caught wing to examine it closer. Best he could describe it was like a V with the pointy part connected to his back. From there the wing flared outward in a thin pink membrane that was a mix of bat wing and dragonfly. Unlike a V, his wings were slightly curved and dropped downwards.

It felt strange. To feel his hands on an appendage that he hadn't had before. Suddenly the wing jerked in his hands. An instinctive try to flutter them as he thought about using them. He let go of his wing and prepared himself for what was to come.

All around him towered his furniture. If he wanted to survive he knew he had to fly. Without it, food and shelter would be out of reach.

He readied himself. Wings pulled back. Then he took a mighty flap.
Suddenly the wind was rushing past him. His clothes quickly became smaller. It was as if he was falling backward.

Then he noticed the ground coming closer. His world suddenly exploded into a mess of pain, tangled limbs, and a view that spun around like crazy. Eventually, his world came to a rest. He had stopped, but the pain continued.

Slowly he unfolded himself of the contortionist hell of knotted pixie limbs he had become. Surely he must have broken every bone in his body. To his amazement, every limb or appendage looked to be alright and the pain vanished shockingly fast.

After he shook off the shock he looked around. He was halfway across the room. Still on the floor of course. His mind slowly provided answers. His wings gave too much force and his angle was so flat that he launched nearly parallel to the ground. With nothing to slow him down, it was as if he had jumped out of a speeding car. Only ten times worse.

"Okay. Full throttle equals disaster. Got it. Should try baby steps. Or more like baby flaps."
His chuckle was lost on everybody, but him. After a deep breath, he was ready. Instead of a full swing, he gently moved his wings up and down. Was he feeling lighter? He moved his wings a tad faster. Did his heel just leave the floor or had he imagined it.

Again he increased his pace slowly. A jump and then another. Without using his legs he shoots slightly in the air and softly floated back down. Again and again.

"The new me. With all-new features like a built-in trampoline."
He chuckled again. Then he stopped as he had a sudden insight.
All this was wrong. He should be frightened or confused. Maybe even angry. He should feel more shocked. At the start, he did faint after all.

But now he was on the opposite. He wasn't concerned or scared. Hardly batted an eye after a horrific crash. Eager to experiment more. Something had changed. Not just physically, but mentally. He felt curious and light-spirited. Something that reminded him of the manuscript. The chapter about pixie mentally.

He just hoped he could control those feelings. Curiosity and a lack of fear might help him for now. Other traits like playfulness or being drawn to mischief might be more of a problem.

With that sorted out - for now - he concentrated again on the task at hand. Again he willed his wings to move. And again he had measured wrong. Suddenly he found himself several lengths of himself in the air and slowly gravity took over again. Before he could crash into the ground again he pushed with his wings again. He gained some height. After a few more swings of his wings, he slowly learned to measure it just right. Gradually his hectic strong movement of wings and jerky shooting upwards gave way to gently flapping wings and a hover.

Jerry grinned. He had done it. Finally, he was flying. He felt as if nothing could stop him now. A sudden loud ringing broke his concentration. Before he could collect himself he rammed into the ground.

Cursing he stood up. The pain faded mercifully fast away. Above him droned the ring of the telephone on. After he collected himself he leaped into the air. His flying was shaky at best, but for a skill recently learned it was all right he guessed.

A moment later he landed on the small table that held his phone's station. The phone itself overshadowed him as if it was a statue of every phone in the world. Giant and immobile. There was no way that he could lift the phone or even operate it. Even if he could. What would he say? No one would believe him.

Meanwhile, the phone rang on and tormented Jerry's ears. Maybe he could at least silence it. He thought the situation over and came to the conclusion that pulling the phone line out of its socket.

Once again he leaped into the air. The plug was found quickly. He muttered a curse as that small thing was still half his current height.
He wrapped his arms around it and stemmed his legs against the wall. No matter how hard he pulled that thing didn't move. Probably rust or something. His phone wasn't the newest.

Maybe it was the still ringing phone that shortcutted his temper.
"If you don't come peacefully, then brute force it is."

He wrapped arms and legs around the plug. Holding with all his might he gave a strong swing of all his wings.
The wind shot past him yet again. Moments later he picked himself up. Quickly noticing that something was missing. Looking over he saw still that damn plug still in the socket.

He pointed theatrically at the plug and screamed from the top of his lungs. "Move you spawn of hell!"

It shocked him as a glittery light shot out of his hands. A second later it slammed into the plug and it flew out with force. In fact, it flew so forcefully away from the wall that it pulled on the phone station. Making it shift several inches. Jerry held his breath. That stupid thing tethered on the edge of the small table. Below it swung the phone-line like a pendulum.

"Oh damn it. Am I in a catastrophe movie directed by Michael Bay?"
Slowly the phone's station shifted and the whole thing tilted over the edge. It only took a second till it hit the floor and an earthquake made Jerry fall over.

A few inches to his right the phone bounced off the floor. With a deer in headlights look, he took it all in. Several seconds ticked by. Wearily he stared at the phone. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had exploded. Of course, he knew a normal phone wouldn't. Yet, in his crazy reality he found himself in, he certainly wasn't risking taking anything lightly.

When nothing happened for a few minutes he took flight. The first point on his list was to take stock of his new surroundings. His room looked familiar, but also strangely warped. With everything bigger, at least relative to him, the room became a vast unknown terrain. He certainly wasn't taking chances with anything mundane and ordinary. Not after the phone debacle.

Everything around him picked his interest and curiosity. He could easily waste all day either exploring or just having fun flying around. Still, the rational part of him took charge. Water, food, and shelter. That's got to be his priority. Maybe watching that bear guy on the tv hadn't been such a waste after all.

The best chance was his kitchenette. Water was first and easily found. He would never have thought that he would be someday happy that his faucet leaked. The food was found in the form of cereal. Damn was he pleased now that he hadn't thrown the seemingly empty package away. There he found three rings of cereal as big as his torso.

Now he looked for shelter. The bread box caught his eye. A housewarming gift from a neighbor. The kindness never repaid as his money had been too tight for gifts.

He dragged his bounty over and took a look. The bread box was wooden and the size now of a big garage. Which was fitting, as it had closing mechanisms similar to that of a garage door. Thankfully he had left it half-open. As he walked in he found what he expected. It was empty save for some breadcrumbs, evidence of its last and only occupant, and a checkered fabric covering the ground.

With that taken care of, he sat down and started to think. Next, he had to find a way back to his old body. Maybe something in the manuscript. He would, however, have to find a way to turn the pages.

There, a magic glowing ball of light might do more damage than help. Maybe he should explore a bit. Find tools that help him.
He was still planning when exhaustion took over. He never noticed that he drifted off to sleep in his new home. A small bread box covered in a white-blue checkered cloth.

---

A loud banging sound woke him. Still groggy he got up. Looking over the surreal landscape he finally woke up for real. So it hadn't been a dream. He was a tiny female pixie and before him stretched the enormous cavern of his room. The banging must have been the door. Hesitated he flew closer.

"Open up Jerry. Your rent is due and if I don't get it my father will be pissed. Come on. Open up!"

Damn, it was Melody. He quickly reasoned that this was one problem he couldn't handle in his current form.

Instead, he spotted his half-open window. He didn't have to endure Melody's banging if he wasn't here. With enough reason to legitimate his curiosity, he had no reason to stay here. With a tiny squeal, he took off. Immediately he noticed that his flying had gotten better. As if he had trained while sleeping. Of course, that hadn't happened, but he couldn't shake the feeling he had changed more.

Outside he surveyed his surroundings. To be caught out in the open was a bad idea. It would be safer to explore other apartments. Maybe someone had left a window open too. At first, he thought he had no such luck. Then he spotted a window that simply had closed by the draft.

As it wasn't really locked he reasoned that he could push it open. He raised his arm and again a glittery ball of light shoot outwards. The window didn't slam open like expected. Like his flying, he had sudden new insight and control. No doubt about it. He had learned it in his sleep. Maybe he could cast even new spells. Absent-minded he slipped into the room. Not a good idea.

Suddenly he was tumbling through the air. Maybe it was his newfound skill that allowed him to catch himself before he crashed into the floor yet again. Turning around he saw a freight train of fur speeding towards him. Narrowly he avoided the collision. He levitated as fast as he could to a safe height. In maybe eight feet height he stopped and looked down to find out what exactly had attacked him.

Below Jerry, two yellow eyes followed him. Gray striped fur and a swishing tail. Just his luck that he had to run into a house cat. From up here, she looked small and innocent. He exhaled and relaxed.
He vowed never again to underestimate seemingly empty apartments.

A sudden blur and the cat was gone. A creaking behind him was all he got as a warning. Turning around he saw the fast climb of the cat. Chair. Table. Air. Endstation Jerry. Again he narrowly avoided the 'tamed' predator. Jerry had enough. As fast as he could he left the apartment. He returned to his own and his bread box.

Thankfully silence greeted him. With the excitement gone his heartbeat slowed down to normal. Moments later he dozed off again.

---

Jerry stood up and cursed. He was woken up by loud banging again.
He flew close to the door. After maybe five minutes the person outside gave up. Not soon after a sheet of paper was slipped underneath his door.

###
Hey Jerry,

it's Mike from work. The boss asked me to check in on you. You missed five days of work and no one can reach you.
Boss says if you don't show up on Monday that you are fired.

So see you soon right?
###

Jerry was astonished. Five days missed? That meant it was now Friday or already the weekend. Why was he tiring so easily and why did he sleep so long? He munched on a stale cereal ring and washed it down with water from the leaky faucet.

While he chewed he was thinking. Maybe he slept so long as a side effect from learning stuff in his sleep. If that was true then he just had to literally sleep it off. Of course, that was assuming he wanted to get used to his new body and its capabilities.

He threw that idea out and focused on the here and now. Despite his bad luck, he knew he needed to continue exploring. For one he needed more food soon. On the other hand, time was ticking away. If Melody was already banging on his door then he might soon get evicted. Not something he looked forward to. Logic, however, dictated that a fast solution to his transformational mishap was unlikely. He needed a new hideout.

The wooden bread box drew his gaze. He barely had been awake for the last few days. Despite that, he had strangely grown fond of his new home. It would be hard to give it up.

Being done with his breakfast he leaped into the air. Flying was already second nature to him. He experimented a little and noticed that his pushing or pulling had improved as well. With concentration, he could even constantly channel it and levitate small things.

Now came the hard part. He may have or have not new spells. Jerry concentrated and willed them out of his subconscious. Nothing.
He felt ridiculous. A tiny pixie flying around naked. Meditating and praying for new magic.

He snickered. With no clothes around for someone the size of a pixie, he hadn't a choice. Even if he would find a Barbie doll, her clothes would be too big. He guessed it was up to him to make some.

His eyes widened in sudden realization. He could do it. He didn't know how, but he knew every pixie had a spell to make herself clothes.

He landed on the kitchen counter. Standing on the counter's rubber mat, he was ready to experiment. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Jerry didn't know much about pixies or what clothes they wore. The pictures in the manuscript showed them in form-fitting dresses made out of leaves. A sudden light behind his eyelids made him open them. In the palm of his hand was another glowing sphere of magic. Before he knew what to do it floated off his hand and slowly drifted down.

Suddenly the world exploded as it hit the ground. The rubber mat he was standing on came to life and grabbed him. No amount of shaking or wringing threw it off. It stopped as suddenly as it had started. After he calmed himself down he saw what happened. He stood on the counter. Directly on the wood of it. Around him was a hole cut into the rubber mat.

That, however, wasn't the only change he noticed. He got his wish. A form-fitting dress, just like the ones on the pictures, and slippers graced his body. With a cringe, he noticed the material. The same rubbery material his countertop mat was made of. As he moved it squeaked annoyingly and it looked like a cheap plastic dress for an equally cheap toy. He hated it.

Escaping the dress proved more difficult than getting into it in the first place. No zipper or buttons. It took him ages to get the shoulder straps off and then slowly roll the whole mess down his body.

Free again, he decided to experiment. He reasoned that whatever material the sphere of magic hit would be sacrificed to make a new dress. That proved to be right.

The cardboard of the cereal box resulted in a Frankensteinian mix of cardboard robot and princess costumes. The still not thrown away wrapper of a candy bar made him a walking billboard and drove him nuts with the crinkling sound.

He cringed at the thought of what might happen if he used the spell on a stainless steel fork. For all, he knew it could result in a dress he would wear forever. The sponge in his sink looked like a puffy creation of a high-end fashion designer. Creations that are edgy, but never really worn.

In the end, he settled on the napkin dress. He felt a little silly, dressed in all white, but the dress was reasonably comfortable and didn't make strange sounds when walking or flying.

With that impromptu point of his to-do list done, he checked how he felt. Curiously he wasn't tired at all. Even a little hyper. Maybe using magic revitalized him?

Maybe different spells might help him stay awake longer? Because dressing up all day was really not his idea of fun or living. So far he knew only basic pixie spells that every pixie could perform. How he knew that he didn't know.

He gulped. Was he a pixie of the lust-tribe? He had tried to summon one. It made sense. Did he really want to uncover spells fitting for a lust-pixie?

Still, his curiosity won out. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Pretty soon he saw the telltale sign of light shimmering through his eyelids. Opening them, he saw a hot pink ball of glowing light. He cringed at the color even though it had been pretty likely that some of his spells had a pink color scheme. His body had, after all, the same color scheme too.

Unsure what to do he let the ball of pink light float free. It weaved around without focus. It reminded him of a dog sniffing to pick up a trail. Suddenly it froze midair and moments later speed towards Jerry. It slammed into his belly and he gasped.

A white-hot fury burned in him. Not where the magic had hit him. Worse. On all the places he had dreaded to even think about the past few days. His vagina ached furiously and his arousal dripped in a constant stream. Only barely he managed to keep his hands away.

Of course, banishing them above his belly line didn't help either. There, tiny, but stiff nipples begged to be played with. He needed something to shelter him from the onslaught. On instinct, he flew over to his bread box. As his feet touched the ground he crumbled.

Nothing could stop him now. One hand shot to his breasts while the other furiously rubbed his aching sex. A moment later his first female orgasm crashed through him. Still, it wasn't enough. Clear thinking eluded him as his world narrowed to the pleasure provided by his body. No matter how often he came it was not enough. The need burned a hole into his mind. He did whatever he had to do to achieve the next peak. The next sweet release. Hours later he drifted exhausted to sleep. Only to moan in his sleep as his hands still groped his body.

---

Again he was awoken by loud banging. A habit that he didn't care to develop. His ears registered muffled shouting, but not more. He didn't really care. His mind was still too much absorbed by the previous night. With orgasms like that, he seriously was tempted to just say "Fuck it!" and stay like this.

His hands lazily roamed the contours of his body. It might be worth finding out how much the spell had contributed to his amazing orgasms. Now that the spell had worn off he was in perfect condition to provide a magically unassisted comparison.

He was about to spread his nether lips when he heard something that broke through his haze and into his mind. The sound of keys unlocking a door. He quickly hid as best as he could in his bread box.

The door opened and in stepped Melody. Jerry cursed. Of course, it had to be her. He watched her explore his apartment. Heard her cursing as she nearly stumbled over the phone. Dreaded the moment as she was close to the manuscript.

"Damn it the bastard ran away. No emptied mailbox. Unplugged phone. And he left all his junk too."

Melody cursed around unknowing that Jerry could hear everything. She randomly rummaged through his belongings. Suddenly Jerry felt angry. He had to do something. Even if it was stupid and could lead to trouble. In a moment, when Melody's back was turned to him, he stepped out of his hiding place. With his arm raised, he willed his magic to show. It only took a second for the pink ball of light to manifest. With all his might he threw it as a pitcher might in baseball. Like a homing missile, the sphere rushed towards Melody. Slamming into her exposed skin right above her tramp stamp.

Melody fell down with a gasp. Her hands clawing at her revealing top and cheap short skirt to gain access to her own flesh. Once that was done she abandoned all modesty and masturbated as if it could save the world.

Jerry did sit down amused on the kitchen counter. No way she would notice him in a state like this. He wondered if he too had looked like a wanton slut in heat. Probably, but not that much. Still, Melody fitted the role better. Her platinum hair with black ugly roots laying around her. The makeup was so overdone that a drag queen might tell her to go easy with it. Her lips were so plump that they had felt the bite of a syringe more than once.

Of course, her breasts looked equally fake. It was a wonder that her butt hadn't been 'enhanced' too. All in all, she looked to Jerry like a suburban cougar in the making. Just a few more years and some Jaguar print clothes. Worse was that despite all that she always acted so high and mighty. As if she was the cream of the crop.

Well, now Jerry had taken her down. He smiled as he saw her winding and squirming below. While Melody wasn't what turned him on, the way he had gotten his tiny revenge certainly made him hot. Lazily he lowered himself on the counter and looked over the edge. His own hand found his naughty bits and soon he too was moaning in pleasure.

It was when Jerry came down from his second orgasm. Something was different. The squirming below him had stopped. He smirked. Of course, not everyone had his stamina. The dirty grin quickly vanished as he saw that Melody was still awake. Her eyes riveted to him.

Getting caught was bad enough. Being caught by Melody was ten times worse. However, what's done is done. Now how should he proceed? Making a hasty exit could lead to her hunting him. On top, it would mean he had to give up his home. The bread box had really stolen his heart somehow.

Gaining her as an ally might be useful. Maybe he could levitate the pages of the manuscript. Maybe not. To gather the ingredients for another summoning ritual would be a lot harder. A human-sized person on his side might be just what he needs. "Hi there. Had fun?" Jerry hadn't meant to say the second part, but it slipped out anyway.

Seconds ticked by till his words worked themselves past Melody's shock.
"Uh, hi?"

Jerry suppressed a snicker. So Melody was still in working order. Her brain was not fried. At least not yet.

"What are you?"

"A pixie. Never seen one before?" Maybe Jerry should deal his attitude back down a little, but on the other hand, he had too much fun.

"No, I haven't. Are you real?"

"As real as the orgasms you just had."

"Oh my gosh! Was that you?"

"Duh. Felt awesome right?"

An awkward silence settled over them both. Each eyed the other warily. In the end, it was Melody who spoke first. "That was a neat .. trick. My name is Melody by the way."

"I know. I am Jerry."

"Oh, you have the same name as the dude who lived here."

Jerry palmed his face. Oh boy. Not the greatest start to work with. "Not past tense. I still live here. And I didn't run away. It's just hard to pay rent when you are as small as I am."

"Jerry? Really? No way. I mean .. how?"

"Short version? Tried summoning a Pixie. Became one instead."

"Why did you try to summon a Pixie?"

Jerry shrugged. "Nothing better to do."

Again an awkward silence descended upon them. A moment later Melody got up and moved over to Jerry who instinctively took flight.
"You look cute. What are you wearing?"

Jerry rolled his eyes. That was definitely not something he wanted to hear. Of course, she had to notice his dress. Pure white it stood apart from his rosy skin.

"Oh, that cheap thing? Made it myself. Calling it 'contour de napkin'. And please don't call me cute."

"But you are and so adorable. I didn't take you for a fashion designer, though. How long did you work on it?"

Jerry rolled his eyes again. If he spends more time with Melody that might become a serious health risk habit.

"Two seconds. Because … Magic!"

"Oh? Show me!"

Jerry let his head hang. Of course, she would demand a demonstration. He grumbled as he knew he could have avoided that pitfall. Should he entertain her and hope that he still could use her as an ally or run and hope for better chances elsewhere?

In the end, the simple fact that he couldn't take the manuscript with him made the decision for him. "Fine. Do you've got a flexible material with you? Something you don't mind losing?"

"Like this?" She pulled something silken out of her purse.

At first, Jerry took it for a silken scarf, but it ended too soon. A handkerchief. Never in a million years would Jerry have guessed that Melody would have a handkerchief with her. And a silken one at that. It was a mix of blue, red, and purple blotches that blended into each other. He hoped those were by design.

"Place it beside me on the countertop and then look away."

"But I wanna see!"

"Oh damn. Fine!"

Annoyed, Jerry shrugged out of his napkin dress. He struggled to hide his breasts and new genitalia. Another thing he never thought he would do.

Of course, he had to reveal one area as he had to summon his magic. A moment later cool silk flowed over his curves and then tightened to a form-fitting dress. Tenderly he moved around. The silk was a lot softer than the napkin dress. No way he would go back to anything else if he had the choice.

"And done? Did you like that magic show?"

"Oh my gosh. That was so neat."

"Well, I hope I don't have to do it more often."

"Aww .. why?"

"Because I am a guy! And don't tell me I don't look like one right now. Inside I am still me. See the leather satchel on my coffee table? That's my way back. It's just hard to accomplish as small as I am."

Melody followed his suggestion and walked over to the coffee table. Jerry leaped into the air and followed her.

"Oh my gosh! You can fly!"

Jerry rolled his eyes. Of course, Melody would state the obvious. He landed beside the leather satchel. "According to the manuscript in here, every Pixie can."

Melody got the papers out and carefully did go through them. "No wonder you made a mistake. I can barely read them."

Jerry just shrugged and continued to watch. Melody had a few questions. All of them easily answered. Then she came to the chapter about summoning a Pixie.

"I think there is more to the title than you thought, Jerry." She picked up the paper and walked to the window. Curious about what she was up to he followed her. She held the paper against the window and the bright sun. Jerry cursed. The backlight revealed ink that was deeper in the paper and less faded.

"How to summon a pixie…from within. Sorry, Jerry. Looks like you didn't make a mistake with the summoning spell."

Jerry hovered with his mouth agape. If the spell worked correctly did that mean there was no counterspell? Was he stuck like that?
Filled with angst, he flew back to the only safe place he knew.
His bread box. Spying the half sacrificed handkerchief, he floated it over with magic. A moment later he was wrapped in it like a blanket and tried his best to forget the world existed.

Melody certainly made it hard for him. She was engrossed in the manuscript. Often switching positions between couch and window.
Now and then she would shout questions towards him and to his frustration, she repeated them till he answered.

Yes, he was a lust Pixie. Yes, it was in hindsight a stupid choice.

Maybe he should have paid more attention. It might not be the smartest idea to answer everything she was asking. However, right now Jerry was done with the world.

"Jerry! That bread box. Is that your home?"

Jerry grumbled. The question hit him deep inside. Was it? A few days ago he would have said his apartment is his home, but now it felt alien. Familiar yet estranged. Before it had been the house of his parents. He had never felt at home there. Too many expectations. To much guilt of being not enough. His tiny bread box. Yes. It felt like home. It was his and gave him a feeling of safety.

"Yes. Now stop with the stupid questions and leave me alone."

If his gruff voice bothered her he didn't know. High-spirited she replied. "Okay. I'll be back tomorrow and I think I can hold my Dad off until Friday. By then we need a solution."

He heard the door close. Finally, he had some peace and quiet. Turning around he drifted off to sleep.

---

He woke up the next day. Still tired he munched on the last pieces of stale cereal and quenched his thirst. It was only then that he noticed that the manuscript was gone. Melody. She must have taken it with her.

He contemplated what to do. Go out and look for her? Stay inside where it was safe? She had told him that she would be back.
In the end, he practiced some magic and waited for Melody to show up.

It was early afternoon when he heard the key sliding into his door's lock. Quickly he rushed to a hiding spot. As it turned out it was just Melody. He chuckled about the absurdity to be happy about Melody showing up.

However, he reasoned she was still his best bet for help right now. Reluctantly he flew out and greeted her. After some forced pleasantries were done, she burst out with some news. "Well I haven't found a way to turn you back, but I found a way to make you feel better. Just trust me."

Jerry sighed. Trust Melody. But then again what choice did he have?
Melody walked over to his couch and coffee table to sit down. With her, she had a wicker basket. Not a normal sight for her. As she pulled a blanket back he saw to his relief the leather satchel with the manuscript.

"So how much did you get into the chapter about a Pixie's behavior?"

Jerry shrugged. "I skimmed it. Why?"

Melody gave him a grin that somehow made the fine hairs on his neck stand up. "Well according to this you need to use magic to stay healthy, be happy, and awake. What I propose is that you use one spell a lot and we monitor how you feel? Okay for the spell. As much as I liked the orgasms you gave me I don't think I would survive more than three or so. Your pulling, pushing, and levitating are weak sauce. With that remains …"

She grabbed into her basket and pulled out a bunch of textiles. It looked like she raided the samples of a tailor. Jerry saw dozens of different colors and fabrics. Changing in front of her yesterday had been embarrassing enough and now she wanted it to do a bunch more. No way in hell.

Or so he thought. Another thought sneaked inside his skull. What if he used a lot of magic and became stronger. Maybe he would learn a spell to turn himself back. As much as he hated to admit it. Melody's way would be the best and easiest to reach it.

"Fine. But we keep this strictly professional. No catwalk runs or other silly stuff."

Eagerly Melody nodded and placed the first fabric beside him. He shrugged off his dress and let his magic flow. Once he was dressed he pulled the new dress off too and did the next.

After a half dozen Melody stopped to provide new fabrics.

"What's wrong?" He had been just found his flow and didn't like the break. He wasn't going to admit it to her, but she was right. Somehow it was fun and improved his mood.

"Well. I was wondering. How much do you control it? Can you only do dresses?"

"Good question. I don't know. So far it always had resulted in dresses. The kind of dresses I saw in the manuscript."

"Maybe that's the standard. We could try if you can make other stuff. Wait. Try this one." She rummaged through the basket and pulled a fashion magazine. Opening it at an earmarked page. Totally spontaneous. Sure. Jerry knew Melody had planned this from the beginning.

"I told you. No modeling stuff."

"It's not. We need to start with small changes. Still a dress, but a different kind. If you manage that we go to the next. Baby steps!"

Jerry sighed but did what she wanted. He concentrated on the picture and then cast his spell.

"It worked! A little. Keep trying."

It took fourteen tries till Melody pronounced it a success. The front of his dress looked just like the picture.

"Turn around so I see the back."

Shrugging he complied. Then he waited. Becoming impatient he had to ask. "And?"

Suddenly an earthquake hit together with a loud gong-like sound. He fell to the floor. Ears ringing and the world spinning. Panic rose inside of him. What happened?

After most of his nausea settled down he noticed something curious. He was on the coffee table yet his right hand was leaning against a wall. As he looked around he saw a curved glass wall all around him. Up, above him, was the real terror. Two giant hands were holding down the glass that trapped him. They belonged to Melody who gave him a nasty grin.

"Look what I caught in a jar. Such a rare catch. Might be my lucky day."

Jerry banged on the walls of the jar and shouted to her to release him. She simply ignored his plight. Like a villain in a movie, she took her time.

"You know. There was a very interesting passage in the papers. It's about Pixie homes."

Jerry cursed and kept on banging, but slowly he lost steam. Something was wrong.

"You see every Pixie needs one. Yours is that cheap little bread box"

Jerry felt himself getting lightheaded. In panic looked around.

"Or rather it was. Now, this jar is your new home."

The lid! It formed an airtight seal. He was suffocating!

"It might take a few days, but soon you will only know this jar as home."

He didn't have days. Couldn't she see that he was dying?

"And then you will be mine."

He collapsed against the glass. His banging got weaker. That megalomaniac was killing him.

"Because whoever owns a Pixie home owns the Pixie too."

Merciful darkness cuts her off and Jerry slipped into a long dream.

---

Jerry woke up with a pounding headache. At least, he reasoned, it was better than being dead. Slowly he opened his eyes. The curved glass ceiling confirmed his dreaded suspicion. He was still trapped inside the jar. It now was laying on the side. The tin lid was punctured several times and its lid was wrapped with duct tape. He doubted he could unscrew it even with magic, but at least he had access to fresh air.

He was resting on a bed made crudely out of paper tissue and another silken handkerchief. Below his silken blanket, he found the last dress he modeled. The same dress Melody had used to distract and trap him. With fury, he tore it from his body. He knew it was stupid, but his anger was overwhelming.

It was fueled by the blazing hate for Melody and the shame that he actually had trusted her. Angrily he punched the glass wall. Nothing happened. Not that he expected as much. The glass was too thick and too strong.

Behind it was an unfamiliar landscape. Gone was his apartment. His jar was on a shelf in a girl's room. He didn't even need to guess who's room it was. The hapless thrown around cheap dresses told him all he needed to know.

He paced his small prison. Not an easy thing to do when the floor was curved. He still felt anger, but he knew no way to vent it. The whole situation made him mad. His options turned out to be pacing or trying to sleep.

All his spells looked impractical. His telekinesis spell couldn't open the lid. There were just too many layers of duct tape. Moving the whole jar might be difficult and there was only one way to move it. Off the shelf and even with his amazingly resistant body he doubted he would survive it.

His arousal spell would probably bounce off the wall and would lead to a night-long masturbation session of himself. Not the way he wanted to be found by Melody.

The clothing spell was a risk he wouldn't want to take. For all, he knew he would trade a glass jar prison for a glass dress-shaped prison.

After he ran out of steam he plopped down on his bed and tried to sleep.

---

Hours later Melody returned home. At once, Jerry was on his legs and hammering the glass walls. At first, she simply ignored him. Then, after maybe an hour she had enough. Grabbing one of her discarded dresses she threw it over his jar.

Now, trapped in a dark twilight, he couldn't even see if she was still in the room. Soon he gave up his screaming and banging. What was the use of it anyways? It was clear that Melody couldn't be reasoned with.

He laid down on his bed again and tried to sleep. There was, however, something preventing him. Slowly it got stronger. A smell. First, it had been faint, but soon became penetrated his whole jar. Through the punctured holes in the lid drifted in the smell of Melody's cheap perfume and the stale odor of sweat. Whatever air got to his jar first had to pass through the dirty dress.

He turned around and buried his face in the silk of the handkerchief. It didn't help. It took hours till his exhaustion won over his anger and the irritating smell.

---

Five days later he was close to going mad. He could see Melody's room again. She had finally removed the dress. Now to his shock he had to admit that not only had he gotten used to the smell, he kind of missed it a little. What was wrong with him? As so often in the last few days he paced up and down his small glass prison. At first, he had stumbled a few times, but soon got used to the curvature of the floor. He still missed his bread box.

He even was slowly growing to appreciate the jar. It was cozy with the tissue and handkerchief bed taking up most of the floor. It wasn't too big and with the solid walls, it felt safe. He knew that was an illusion, but that voice of reason got smaller by the day.

Laying beside his bed was a small table out of folded paper. It looked skewed and pathetic. On it was a half-eaten blueberry. Courtesy of Melody. Today was the first day Melody had opened the jar. However only after getting his promise that he won't try anything. To his regret, he had complied. It must have been the hunger. Five days without food can do that to you, right? In return, for what felt like selling his soul, he got two blueberries, the ugly paper table, and a few pieces of fabric. To train his magic she had said.

After gobbling down one and a half blueberry he could finally think clearly again. With it came the fury, shame, and regret. That was all he had left. That and a bundle of fabric snippets. He would be damned to even think to dress up again. It was what Melody wanted.
Still. Now and then his eyes darted to the bundle.

---

Jerry grinned and gave Melody another twirl. Another five days had passed. Ten since his capture. Three since he gave in and used the fabric to make more dresses. Melody opened now his jar daily. At first, he had meant to fight her, but he had been too grateful. Each day a little more. She fed him, gave him fabric to dress him, and cared for him. Sometimes it got hard to remember why he was supposed to be angry at her.

Melody clapped and complimented him. He beamed proudly. For the first time, he had managed to not make another dress. Currently, he wore a skirt and a halter top. Melody wanted a tube top, but that would interfere with his wings.

"Thank you, Melody."

"Oh, you look so cute. Listen. I want to know something. Do you still see yourself as a man? I mean you wear dresses and now even skirts and tops. You even like dressing up. Would a man do that?"

Jerry blushed. Melody had a point. It was quite silly of him to do so. Jerry vowed to think from now on as herself as female. "No Melody. I guess not."

"That's right. And should a woman wear a man's name?"

Jerry shook her head.

"I have the perfect name for you. From now on your name is Jeri."

"But my name is already Jerry."

"No silly. Jeri. One 'R' and an 'I' instead of a 'Y' at the end."

"Oh, that is so smart Melody."

"Oh speaking of names. I don't think you should call me Melody anymore."

Jeri was confused. Renaming her made so much sense. But why would Melody want a new name? "I don't understand! You are Melody."

"Okay listen little one. Your home is this jar, right? And I own that jar. That means I own you too. Something I own shouldn't be calling me by my name. From now on I am your Mistress. Got it?"

Jeri hesitated. Something wasn't right. She didn't want to be owned. But what if Jeri was upsetting her by saying no? Would Melody take away her jar? She loved her jar. Maybe not at the start, but now she liked it. No way would she give up her jar. Not even for her old bread box. What had she seen in that thing? It had been so rustic and way too big. Not as cozy as her jar. Jeri knew she would do anything to keep it. Even calling Melody mistress.

"Sure thing, mistress."

"Great. Now show me how you look in that hot pink cloth."

---

Jeri was lounging on her jar. A frequent habit she picked up after Melody allowed her out again. Of course, she was only allowed to roam around in her mistress's room. Outside was too dangerous. Jeri couldn't even think about a good reason to go outside. Every time her mistress took her along Jeri was so scared. Usually, that happened when she needed Jeri's magic.

Something that happened quite often. The old Jerry might have called her mistress a slut. Jeri knew better. Her mistress just had a big sexual appetite and now with Jeri's help, she could finally fill her need. All it took was a little spell at the right time and they couldn't resist her.

The first time had been the worst. She had a guy over. That was what? Maybe two months ago? Jeri cursed how much she lost track of time. It felt longer than two months when she had the first time blasted a guy on her mistress's behalf. That guy was immediately horny beyond reason. He roughly shoved mistress on her bed and then fucked her like an animal in heat.

Jeri wanted so much to go in and help her mistress, but she had forbidden it. For Jeri, it looked too much like rape. Even with her mistress moaning in delight. The next few times she tried to reduce her strength. Of course, her mistress found out and forbid her to hold back if the target was with the mistress in private. Luckily mistress didn't order her to watch. Falling asleep in her bed, when two people were going at it like animals, was hard enough.

Her reduced spell garnered her the dubious honor to escort mistress outside. A reduced blast filled most guys with enough lust to drop everything to be with her mistress. Be it their work, errand, or girlfriend.

Sometimes Jeri felt bad. Her conscience told her it was wrong to force these guys. She so wished that her mistress would settle on one guy, but no, she had to have them all. Consequences be damned. Of course, since mistress explained it to her Jeri had less of a problem with it. To those men sleeping with her mistress was the highlight of their pathetic lives. Did Jeri really have the right to deny them that?

So Jeri did what was asked and in the meantime, she had her hobbies. All of them were approved by her mistress. There was dressing up or learning to dress up better. Jeri had to read about a dozen women's magazines for the latest trends. A waste of time in Jeri's opinion. No one came so close to perfection as her mistress and her unique style.

Then there was the masturbating. Jeri was supposed to do it two times a day. Actually, she had the problem to do it just two times a day. Mainly because she had a lot of time on her hands. She even got used to mistress order to fantasize about guys doing her. She still preferred girls, but a certain curious voice had sneaked into her mind wondering how it would feel. Of course, she wouldn't have sex anymore with anyone. Besides her, no one was around in her size class. Neither men nor women.

She sighed. Still, three hours till her mistress returned. What else was she to do to pass the time? Both hands snaked down to her nether region and started their dirty deed.

---

Jeri yawned and continued scrubbing. She hated the chore, but her mistress was adamant about it. Her mess. So it was her duty to clean it. She scratched at the glittery stuff lining the inside of her jar. Stupid Pixie dust. It totally surprised Jeri, when it happened the first time. She was masturbating as usual. When she climaxed her wings suddenly shuddered and sprayed a fine mist everywhere.

Jeri was freaking out until her mistress had come back home.
"Finally! Jeri, now you are a real mature Pixie."

Obviously, her mistress had known. Read it probably in that book. Jeri meanwhile was confused and needed to be told what was going on.

New Pixies were small and had only access to a small amount of magic. Over a few months, they grow. Jeri hadn't even noticed until her mistress held a ruler beside her. She had grown from about two inches to just over five. No wonder her jar felt a little smaller.

Then came the point when her body had grown out and the magic surpassed its capacity. If she was full of magic and attracted more, it would shed off in the fine dust she was now scrubbing. With her being a lust Pixie masturbating was one of her natural ways to refill her magic.

Mistress was collecting it as if it was worth its weight in gold. She liked it so much that she had ordered Jeri to only masturbate in her jar with the lid closed. Of course, with Jeri being so active in that department she had to clean her jar every other day. Not just clean it, but to collect the dust too.

Jeri was half done when suddenly the door burst open. Jeri froze till she noticed that it was her mistress storming in. She flung herself on the bed and groaned.

Hesitantly Jeri looked out of her glass. "Mistress? Something wrong?"

"Something wrong? SOMETHING WRONG?! I tell you what is wrong. They all are avoiding me. No one dares to come even close. I haven't been laid in like three days!"

Jeri sighed. In her opinion, it had to happen sooner or later. Most of her mistress frequent bed partners had wised up and avoided her now. Somehow they couldn't trust themselves around Melody. Jeri felt a little ashamed again for her role in it.

She crawled out of her jar and looked at her mistress. What to do? The longer she was without sex the more her temper got the best of her. Leading to increased risks for Jeri as she had to accompany her mistress farther and farther away from her jar.

"Maybe mistress could masturbate to take the edge off? I could give a certain push..."

Jeri half expected her suggestion to fail, but to her surprise, Melody actually thought about it.

"Damn it. Fine. Blast me with all you got and tomorrow we go out to hunt."

"Really everything?"

"Yes. Come on, little one. Show me what you've got."

Jeri gave a small whistle. It had been some time since she last blasted her mistress. She feared a little how strong it would be now that she was a 'mature Pixie'. She took a few seconds to really gather her magic and let it fly towards her mistress.

The effect was immediate. Melody tore her clothes if her and grabbed, pulled, and rubbed her body with reckless abandon. Jeri smiled. That's how she liked it. No men. Just her mistress giving her a show. Jeri laid down herself and peeked over the shelf's edge.

Seeing her mistress glistening in sweat and hearing her moan made her aroused too. Surely mistress wouldn't mind if she did it once outside of her jar. Jeri's hand sneaked down, while her eyes were still glued to her mistress.

Suddenly a small quake rattled Jeri. Mistress laid the wrong way on her bed. In her throws of passion she had kicked out and hit the wall. Jeri snickered. It happened a few times more. Jeri didn't care. She was so close too.

Suddenly her mind registered a strange sound. Something rolling. Oddly intrigued she stopped and looked around. What she saw made her eyes as big as saucers. All the kicking had made her jar jump its holding place. Now slowly it rolled towards the edge.

"Mistress!" Jeri cried out in panic. Just as she scrambled onto her feet the jar tipped over the edge. She took flight and started her chase. Gathering her magic to levitate her jar as it had already traveled halfway down.

A blink later and her jar shattered on the ground. Jeri landed on the closest place available and screamed in anguish. Her beloved jar was gone. Over her own tears, she could hear her mistress moaning. Melody hadn't even noticed the tragedy. Suddenly Jeri wasn't sad anymore. She was furious. Melody had always been selfish. This proves it just once again.

In fact, the past few months had only been about Melody and her wishes. Why had Jeri even listened to her? Jeri looked down at the scattered shards of what had once been her home. No that wasn't right. Hadn't it been her prison? How could she ever forget what Melody had done to her? Somehow she had been brainwashed. Ever since that jar came down on her Jeri had acted strangely. She just hadn't noticed. Worse. Melody had told her as much. Whoever owns a Pixie home owns the pixie. With seething hate, she looked towards the woman that had robbed her of freedom and mind for months. But what could she do? She was just five inches.

Melody's moaning got weaker and Jeri started to panic. Once Melody was clear-minded she would try to catch Jeri again.
At once, Jeri cast another arousal spell. Not as strong. She had spent most of her mojo earlier. Then she leaped into the air. For now, Jeri had to get away. In a frantic way, she looked through the house for a way out.

Spotting a half-open window she shot out. Freedom! But what now? Jeri decided to get as much distance between her and Melody as possible. While her tiny body flew down the street her mind raced with her. Her mind had been bent worse than a pretzel. Was she back to her usual self? Clearly not. She still thought of her as a woman. Wasn't even sure if she wanted to go back to being male or human. All she needed was a safe place and some time to think things through.

Looking down she noticed her clothing. The knotted string top had been once a lacy stocking. Her skirt was so short that it barely earned its name and was some elastic plastic Melody had found. She was looking like a slut. Disgusted Jeri tore the clothes off her body. She rather flew in the nude than dress like a winged whore version of a Barbie.

By now Jeri had slowed down. Her fight or flight instinct slowly settled down. She guessed she was ten to twelve blocks down the road. The neighborhood around her had changed from three-story apartment complexes to suburban one-family homes.

Now, what? Go as far as she could from Melody and leave it all behind. It certainly was tempting. Only her conscience reminded her of the little fact that Melody still had the manuscript. She wouldn't look long for Jeri. It was rather likely that she found some poor sap and got him to perform the ritual. Something Jeri couldn't let happen.

Looking around he spotted a few houses that appeared run down. Maybe abandoned? She zigzagged around in search. Getting more urgent minute by minute. All the spells and flying had tired her out.

There. One building looked less run down, but there was a hole in one of the windows. Cautiously, Jeri investigated. Once she slipped in she was greeted by dust and furniture hiding under big white blankets. So far so good. Carefully she examined her surroundings. The gray blanket was even and undisturbed. No one had entered the house for years.

Now she needed to find a spot to hide and sleep. Of course, everything had been stowed away. With her last strength, she opened cupboards and shelves in the kitchen. By now using magic tired her really out. Then she hit the jackpot. One of the lower shelves contained cans and mason jars. All filled with goodies.

The last owner must have been a prepper, her tired mind reasoned. Off to the side was one large jar laying open and on the side. Eagerly Jeri climbed in and only then noticed the oddity. Did she escape one jar to crawl into another? Maybe not everything from Melody's brainwashing had worn off.

Jeri gave a heartfelt yawn and leaned against the curved wall.
Nothing furnished this jar, but it was the best thing she found so far.
She could look for something else later.
She had to rest.

Today was done.
Tomorrow, however, was a different matter.
Tomorrow Jeri will start a war.
Tomorrow, Melody will learn to rue the day she garnered the fury of a Pixie!

Melise swore silently as she pulled her travel bag up the stairs. What idiot had thought of the idea a school needs a widespread staircase in the front of the school's courtyard? She cursed again as she climbed another step. Individually they weren't that high. Maybe the combined width of two of her fingers. Instead, they were wide and the whole staircase spread out like a giant courtyard of its own.

As much as Melise was annoyed with the staircase, it was just the sacrificial lamb that garnered the dubious honor to be the stand-in for the real targets of her anger.

She climbed the last steps and it came into view. The royal school. A place where everyone wanted to be. Princes and princesses. Sons and daughters of every rung of the aristocratic ladder. Children of high merchants or wealthy mages. Everyone save for one. Melise would like nothing more to turn around and storm off. The question was to what? Her mother had sacrificed everything to get her here. Her wealth, dubious fame, and legacy. More so she had sacrificed Melise's legacy as well. Snuffed its flame before it could blossom.

Her mother wanted her to have a good life. The right life. Not the shunned one she had. It left her here. The one place she didn't want to be. Grumbling and cursing she started to move again.

First was the lower reception area. The one for not high-borns. She was shown by a servant to her quarters. A small room in a dorm favored by mages or mages to be. How ironic. The one discipline she was interested in was the one she had already learned. On top, it wouldn't be taught here. Not in a million years. Even some aspects of necromancy were taught here. Not hers. It was shunned like the mages that wield it. But in secret. Oh, how they loved it. Everyone with money came soon or later. Not that they would admit it.

A gentle knock announced that she had a visitor. On her bidding, a servant came in. "The dean would like to see you. Now."

She might have felt threatened if it wasn't for the fact that she knew it would happen. Part of the deal her mother made to get her in. It looked like her unpacking had to wait. She grabbed her most dear possession, her private lexicon, and headed out.

She followed the servant to the main building. A monstrosity that could be as well a castle. Dozens of floors, stairs, and hallways. It appeared as if the servant led her through each and every one of them.

She arrived finally before the dean's office. Just in time to wait for three hours. 'Now!' must be a relative term around here.
When she was led in she nearly overlooked the dean. Behind a huge and opulent decorated desk perched a slim-looking man. His haggard figure had all the signs she expected. Arrogant and snobbish. Drunk on the power that his little fiefdom gave him.

"Miss Melise of the famous Arnier mage family I presume."

She gave him her best cutesy. "Melise Arnier. That is all I can call myself now."

"Ah yes right. A wise choice on your mother's part. Nevertheless, I have to ask for your lexicon."

Melise hesitated. Just for a moment. Reluctant to hand over her prized possession. Still, she did what she had to do.
The dean weighed the heavy book and took a look at the cover. Then he flipped open the book and paged to the first cataloged item.
"Now Miss Arnier, the key please."

She stifled a sigh and told him her elaborate system to mark what item was in her possession and which did not.
Systematically he examined each page. In the end, he grunted.
"Just eight items? I thought the Arnier's family portfolio was bigger. Many of these ... things ... still have the Arnier family listed as an owner."

"That was true. You see the families in this trade always try to get exclusivity. In order to get me into this school, my mother sold every exclusive we had. What is left are these common ones nearly every family owns," Melise admitted. Her voice sounded calm and collected. But within she was furious about that very fact.

"I see. Well, I guess it's a clean break from the past. However, should you ever go back to old family habits please let me know. That it is part of the deal that I know every item you possess."

Melise gave a curt nod.

"Dismissed Miss Arnier."

Hastily she stood up and left after grabbing her lexicon.

---

It was three months later that a servant disrupted Melise's class. She wasn't much into auric manipulation anyway, but with limited options, she had to choose something. The servant whispered something to the teacher who glanced at Melise. Definitely not a good sign she decided.

"Melise. Please put away your materials and follow this servant to the dean's office."

She swallowed. Three months. Her mother had given everything away for measly three months. However, she was determined to not let her disappointment be shown. She packed her things and followed the servant out. However, she quickly noticed that it wasn't the way to the dean's office.

"Where we going?" she asked.

"Your dorm room Miss. I was told that you need a lexicon of some kind."

Melise silently cursed. If she needed her lexicon a bad situation just hit catastrophic proportions. At what point had she messed up? What noble had she been run afoul of? With this school, it could be anyone. It was a cauldron of intrigue and deception. Wealthy low-borns mixed in an environment with high-borns. This was an opportunity to rise above the mob by marrying an aristocrat. Those, however, had their own little plays and intrigues to play. Melise had to find out in whose conspiracy she had stumbled and fast.

After retrieving her lexicon she was led directly into the dean's office. No pompous waiting game this time. Another bad sign. Again she was greeted by the sight of the haggard dean. New was the lad of maybe nineteen and his parents. Wealthy clothed. Highborn for sure. Their usual arrogant gaze missing. Open hostility showed there instead. Melise frowned for a moment. She had seen that boy maybe one or two times from afar. How could she have angered him?

"Ah, Melise. Please take a seat and hand me your lexicon," the dean greeted her.

"How can you be so calm? She ruined our son. Throwing her in jail might be the least she deserves," the father of the boy demanded in an angry and stern voice. Melise recognized it. Someone was used to getting what he wants.

"I assure you, Baron of Kelis Islands, that I take this matter quite seriously," the dean calmly countered.

Melise did as told. Picking apart the small exchange told her everything she needed to know. First off it was not an intrigue she had stumbled into. She was accused of using her learned profession. The very same her mother was giving up. The good news was that she was innocent. The bad news, however, was that she might not get a chance to prove it.

The Dean opened the lexicon and flipped through it. Clearly, he was searching for something. Melise wet her lips in anticipation and hesitantly made a suggestion. "If you tell me what happened I might be able to help."

"Oh, you know very well what you did!"

"Baron, please. Let's remain calm and civilized. Please entertain her by giving her the facts."

Maybe Melise had misjudged the dean. That guy had a spine after all. Was it her salvation or doom? Melise couldn't tell yet.

The Baroness answered instead of her husband.
"A servant found undergarments hidden in his room. Female ones. Confronted by us he admitted to wearing them! Hidden and while in public. He even admitted receiving pleasure from doing so. How can that be not her meddling? He was fine before we send our son here. It was a mistake dean. No fetish mage should be allowed here."

Melise kept her cool on the outside. On the inside, her heart and mind were racing. With opportunity comes hope. And this was the mother of all opportunities. With a false calmness, she addressed the dean.

"That sounds to me like a cross-dressing fetish. On the matter of me being accused, I can easily debunk any claim. If that shouldn't be enough I am willing to swear by a contract mage."

Melise knew she had them. They just didn't know it yet. The dean meanwhile found the page. His brows furrowed as he read the details.

"Yes here. Hmm. Her family never claimed to be in possession of this particular fetish. Melise why don't you tell us your proof so we can get past this as fast as possible."

Now she had to be careful. One wrong word and the doors of opportunity might close. She wet her lips and started to explain.
"There are two ways a fetish mage can give another person a fetish. The artificial way is hard, fast, illegal, and easily detectable. It is for all-purpose mind control and is treated as such. Every fetish mage apprentice has to sign a contract mage enchanted document before receiving training. Making it impossible to use the pure artificial way against anyone."

She gave them a short moment to stomach those details. Then she continued.
"That leaves only the natural way. It is slow, but a lot less detectable. In order to share a fetish, the mage would need to have the cooperation of the target. For an inexperienced fetish mage like myself, it would take hours to do this and your son would have noticed. With your son having servants and other entourage it is easy to ask around. They all will tell you that I haven't spent time with your son…"

The glaring showed her that they didn't believe her fully. It didn't matter to Melise. The opportunity was still there. Ripe for her taking. Now she had, so to speak, to go in for the kill.
"A usually unknown fact is that fetish mages as myself can remove them as well. In fact, I'd be delighted to remove it from your son. I wouldn't even request payment. Just a few other things. I assure you those would be in your interest too."

Melise knew she had them. She had to try her hardest to not show a wolfish smile. She still that the hatred in their eyes. The doubt.

"Nothing is for free," replied the baron. "What are those other things?"

"A contract mage. We all will sign a document forbidding us from telling anyone what fetish I removed, as well as that no one can tell of whom I removed it. You should recognize that with contract mages' magic this incident here will remain forever a secret. No one of us could tell. Willingly or unwillingly. I just require one more thing. Part of the contract has to be that you all give up any claim to the ownership of the fetish."

"Whatever that means. Gladly," the Baron added. "Just get it done."

After hashing out some detail a contract mage was called. He would inscribe the contract onto their very souls. No breaking of the contract was possible. Ever.

Then Melise had to do her part. Facing the son she had to go into a trance. Diving deep down into the mind of the target. The poor fella didn't even know how much she would violate him. With him never speaking a word Melise recognized the signs why he might have developed a fetish. The mind was complex. Capable of many things. If hindered or blocked it will find a way to free itself. He had grown up with rules and regulations to make him into a perfect heir. His mind had been robbed of opportunities to express themselves.

A fetish like the one she was chasing now down was for all purposes a way to break the mold. To have something for only himself. And now Melise would rob him of it. To alter him and take away his only escape from the harsh ruling of his parents. To let him sink back into the boringness of his normal mundane life.

She felt bad. However, not enough to stop her. Slowly she cut the fetish loose. Disconnected every little strand from the host's mind. It took a long time. Hours even. By the time she was done the last traces of sunlight vanished behind hills. Now it was hers and hers alone.

The baron's family couldn't get out fast enough. Away from her. It was good acting, Melise had to grant them that. While in trance she had probed them. Just a little. A peek if you so will. Both parents had work done by at least three of the more famous fetish mage-families. The signatures unmistakably. Of course, they weren't alone. Fetishes were spices to improve one's life. And if one group had the means to indulge themselves it was those rich with title or trade. Without them, fetish mages would have long vanished.

Triumphantly she marked the fetish in her lexicon. Then she showed it to the dean. His eyes went wide.

"You didn't just remove it. You stole it," he accused her.

"How else would fetish mages acquire new ones?" she asked him in a calm voice.

"I see now why you decided to bind us by contract. Dismissed Miss Arnier," he told her.

The dean looked grumpy. Maybe it was because she outsmarted him for once. She took her lexicon and headed out. Just before she reached the door the dean once again addressed her.
"I hope you don't plan to start trouble Miss Arnier. I'll be keeping an eye on you."

"I wouldn't dream about it." The lie flowed over her lips without conscious thought.

She left the main building and looked around. With nightfall, the courtyard was nearly deserted. She walked over to a bench and set down.

With a little bit of concentration, a spider web of light appeared over her open hand. This was it. Her newest item. Rendered visible to the naked eye. A fetish mage might see more. The fragile construct that linked concepts and actions. Desires and needs. Every little nuance of the fetish. It was a blueprint. Ready to be copied into the mind of others. It was small for a fetish. In its infancy. Complex yet still simple.

She could see the main parts that formed it: attraction to the panties of women and the excitement of having something hidden.
The second part was what made it exceptional. Cross-dressing was known well enough. Most of all the Bernard family called it their own. But theirs was different. Their fetish was open, over the top, and flamboyant. Hers was the opposite. Hidden and well guarded. It was common yet elusive. With people hiding it, it was hard to find someone possessing it. It had proved to be impossible to acquire. No one had been willing to part with it. Until now.

Melise grinned and looked down at her treasure.
The fetish could use some growth. In the right host, it could mature into something more. To include more garments or to be bolder in taking risks while wearing things hidden. But to do this she needed hosts. People volunteering that she could trust or control. The younger the better. Best if they just left puberty behind.

She looked around. All the dorms around her were filled with prime candidates. All she had to do was to pick some and find means to control them.

Suddenly she had to laugh. All this time she never had felt she belonged in this school. It was filled with intrigues and hidden plots. Now she was scheming herself. What irony. She had become one of them. Not that she minded. It was the break she had hoped for. Her mother had robbed her of her family's legacy. Now she had the chance not to win the old one back, but to start her own. Grinning she headed to her dorm and to bed. There was suddenly much to do and she hardly could wait. When she was done panties will be part of the school uniform and not just for the girls around here.

Taran twitched each time another bullet or magic bolt impacted on their car. Each twitch shoot lightning bolts of pain through his veins. With numb arms, he pressed the gauze on his bleeding stomach.

"Hold on Taran," his father shouted. "I'll try to shake them."

His father maneuvered wildly - trying to shake those who hunted them - but Taran hardly noticed. The blood-soaked gauze fell as his hands slipped and he drifted off into unconsciousness.

*****

A week earlier Taran walked through the traveling carnival. He didn't want to go, but his friends insisted. Maybe it was about time to rip of the band-aid. He hadn't visited a carnival since his mother died. A decade earlier. It was the last thing they did together. One last happy day before cancer took her away from him. Not wanting to spoil the memory he stayed away. But maybe it was time to move on.

His friends dragged him from booth to booth. Laughing. Smiling. However, Taran couldn't get his head into it. He was on edge. Something was wrong. He felt it in his blood and bones.

"Hey look. That old gypsy is waving us over," one of his friends exclaimed.

Caught curious his friends dragged him along. Taran tried to not roll his eyes. Magic was real, but looking into the future through cards and crystal balls? Surely not.

"So, Miss Adamache. How much for our future," one of the group hollered after reading the tacky sign above the tent.

"It's free, but not for you," the old woman countered with a smokey rough voice. Then she let her eyes drift till they rivet themselves onto Taran. "Yours I will read. Come in. Alone."

She vanished into her tent without another word. Naturally, Taran was reluctant to follow her, but his friends pushed him on. Practically shoving him into the tent.

The old woman didn't even look up to him. "Take a seat," she just said.

Thinking he would be faster out if he complied Taran sat down at the small round table. The top was covered with thick purple velvet cloth and on top of it was a single deck of large cards with ornamented back.

As the woman reached for the cards to reveal the topmost Taran had to ask. "Shouldn't I. You know. Shuffle the deck."

"It is already shuffled and cut," Miss Adamache replied. "It was just waiting for the right person."

That sounded phony to Taran. More so as the first card was revealed. Death. Of course. Start with something big to lure the audience in.

"Don't be alarmed," she muttered. "Rarely means death at all. Most often the end of something. The start of something new. Stuff like that."

She drew the second and the third card. "The rider and the virgin. Curious. A long journey perhaps. A new woman in your life?"

Taran had to stifle a laugh as she flipped open the fourth card. Death. Again. Phony for sure. "Shouldn't there only be one card of each in a deck?" he asked amused.

His smile vanished as he saw Madame Adamache with a face white as chalk. With a trembling hand, the flipped the next card. Death. Once again the grim reaper grinned from his motive. She was flipping more and more cards. All of them: death. Eventually, she looked up and straight into Taran's eyes. "When is your birthday?" she asked in a wispy voice. Barely recognizable from the authoritative one moments before.

"Tomorrow," he admitted.

"Be more precise," she hissed urgently. "I know everyone around here knows their birth date to the second."

"Five minutes after three in the morning. And a few seconds." Then the penny dropped for Taran. "You can't mean that. I can't be a sacrifice. They would have taken me at birth."

Madame Adamache stood up nodding. She rummaged through the back of her tend and a moment later she fished out an old portable television. She switched it on and Taran saw a grain grayscale version of the local news channel.

"... dozens of wounded. The firefighters are still trying to dig through the rubble in search of survivors. However, the list of known victims is growing minute by minute. The most prominent of the casualties is the adoptive son and sacrificial brother of local Krem-Mage ..."

The image and sound died as she turns the small television off. "Don't go back out to your friends. Forget returning home." She stepped over to the back of her tent and opened a flap. "Run," she just said to Taran.

And run he did.

*****

Taran jerked awake. Now of all times he had to remember the fortune teller. All her warnings in vain. The image of grim reaper tarot cards littering the small table flashed before his eyes. All for nothing. He was so weak he couldn't even lift his hands to the wound anymore. Still, he felt warm blood quell out of his body.

Loud banging on a door made him look up. His father standing in front of some cabin in the woods. Desperate. Now and then looking back to Taran in the car. He was the only one Taran had called. The day his life in greater Florida ended. He had believed Taran on the spot. Picked him up near a highway and just driving like demons are hunting them. Which was close to the truth. Just past state lines they noticed someone following them. No matter how often they shook them off, they always found them again.

"Coming!" An old voice shouted. Muffled by wooden walls. As the door opened Taran saw an old white-haired man.

"You are a doctor, right?" Taran's father asked with urgency in his voice. "My son. He needs help!"

"I don't think I can help," the man said but followed to the car. "By the great witches. Your boy needs a healer or ambulance."

"There is no time," his father urged. "He lost too much blood already."

"I am not that kind of doctor," the old man insisted. Seeing Taran's father's desperate eyes he relented. "Let's get him inside. Maybe I can slow the bleeding till help arrives."

Together they heaved Taran out of the car. Blood dripping. Leaving a trail from car to the couch.

"I'll get my first aid kit," the doctor said while walking deeper into the cabin. "Call the police," he shouted.

But when he returned Taran's father hunched over him and tried to stem the blood flow of the wound.

"Let me," the old man said. "Call. Now."

"I can't," came the weak reply.

"You have to. I am not a doctor for this. I studied enchantments and prosthetics. I can't help him. Not really."

"Can't. They might call who did this."

"Who? Was this a hunting accident?"

"Krem-Mages."

"What? Here? Great witches of the past give me strength. Call. They have no friends or authority here."

His father was about to turn when they heard cars racing over gravel. The hunters had arrived. They were out of time.

The old man hurried into the back of the cabin. Leaving Taran and his father alone. This was it. The end. Taran tried to talk, but his voice barely a whisper. His father crouched down. Bringing his ear to Taran's lips so he tried again. "Dad. I love you." Taran didn't know if he just imagined the words or not. He hoped his father knew. How grateful he was.

With tired eyes, he looked up to his father. As his eyelids slowly closed he saw him being shoved away. Pain flared as something cut his chest right over his heart.

The pain drew him away from the tiredness one last time. Seeing the doctor who held a strange crystal to his chest. A light started to glimmer behind delicate goldwork and crystalline walls. Taran thought that maybe it was some kind of healing device. His pain drained away. He became more alert. As the glow became stronger Taran closed his eyes for the last time.

When he could see again his view was from the ceiling. The doctor leaning over him and his father wringing his own hands. He just saw the doctor palm the glowing crystal before the door burst inwards. Chunks of wood flying everywhere.

Men in black tactical gear stormed the cabin. Dragging the doctor and father away from the body that Taran could only think of as his corpse. As the doctor was pushed out of the cabin Taran's view followed.

Outside a ghastly scene unfolded. His corpse was dragged out. His father and doctor pushed to their knees nearby. The men formed a cordon around his body. Only to be broken by two men entering who were dressed quite differently. Black suits with blood-red shirts and accents. Krem-Mages.

One was older and pushed the younger one to the corpse. "Go. Hurry."

Taran noticed that the younger Krem-Mage was close to his own age. He guessed so close that only a few minutes separated their birth. The boy withdrew a dagger - from where he couldn't tell - and sank to his knees before Taran's body.

Taran couldn't look away as the boy plunged the dagger into the body before him. Unblinking he had to witness as the boy mutilated Taran's body. Suddenly a little relieved that he couldn't feel the corpse anymore.

With a triumphant grin, the boy held up the very price he had chased after. Taran's heart. It was sickening as Taran saw the boy bite into it. Savage. Wild. More and more frantic.

"I don't feel it," the boy howled in anger. "Something is wrong."

"The soul is gone," the old doctor said. As every pair of eyes turned to him he continued. "He died minutes ago. You are too late."

"For nothing! All this for nothing!" the younger Krem-Mage raged while kicking at dirt and random stones.

The older one meanwhile walked leisurely to Taran's father. "Your son could have been part of something great. Now he died in vain. You robbed him of that. You should be ashamed."

"Ashamed? Me?" Taran's father raged. "You wanted him dead. At least this way he had a chance. You and your rituals sicken me. I ..."

One of the guards struck Taran's father down with the butt of a rifle. He raised it again but was stopped by the older Krem-Mage. "He is punished enough. Let us not waste time, as we might still find a replacement in time. A week is not over yet."

Taran saw his father crawl towards his body while the Mages and their guards just drove away. In the coming silence, only his father's sobbing could be heard. Meanwhile, the old man stood up and walked into the cabin. As much as Taran wanted to fight it he was helpless as his view followed the doctor inside.

After grabbing a blanket he walked back out, to Taran's father who had propped up Taran's head on his lap and was gently stroking his hair. "Maybe it was fate after all," the old man gently said while covering the corpse with the blanket. "I was the wrong one to save his body, but the right one to save his soul."

"What are you talking about?" Taran's father demanded while tears ran down his cheeks. "He's gone. My son is dead."

"Not as long as we have this," the old man said while pulling out the same crystal he had touched to Taran's chest.

"In there?" his father asked.

"Yes. Come inside and I will explain. Tell you how we can bring him back. But nothing can be done for this body. Come," the old man insisted.

With a heavy heart, his father pulled the blanket over Taran's face and followed the other man into the cabin.

"I know how painful it is to lose a child. A few decades ago I lived with my family in the Great Lakes area."

"Gorgon territory," Taran's father added half-heartedly.

"Yes. Medusa and her kind can control now their stare of petrification. Not so their pets. My daughter used to play with a young gorgon when she was little. The Gorgon got a baby basilisk as a gift. Had to show it, my daughter. The stare of the basilisk was not fully developed yet. It started out with a small spot. A coin-sized patch of skin turned to stone."

By now they arrive at some storage room in the back of the cabin. Hard cases and crates were stacked on top of each other. "Help me with this, will'ya?" the doctor asked while pointing to a hard case that was pretty long and big. Buried under everything else.

"The spot grew. More and more of my daughter's leg turned to stone. It took months, but it steadily advanced. We tried everything, but nothing helped. Eventually, healers had to amputate her leg. That was what made me change fields. Learn about prosthetics."

The doctor stopped for a moment. Panting from the physical exhaustion. But beneath it, Taran saw the pained look of a man who had lost someone.

"We thought it beaten, but a few months later the petrification returned. The flesh to stone curse wasn't on the body. It was on the soul. I had only one option left: a full-body prosthetic. I succeeded, but not in time. My daughter passed away long before I could complete my work. Still, I worked onward. Maybe someday someone else would need a full-body prosthetic. Then some advancements in magic took place and suddenly my research wasn't needed anymore. My investors jumped ship. My wife was long gone too."

They pulled the large case out of the room and placed it on the living room floor. "So I came here. With all my material. Most curious of all no-one complained about me taking the prototype." He patted the case. Then he fumbled with some locks. With a hiss, the top opened.

"It ... A girl's body," Taran's father remarked as he looked upon a still body of a young woman.

"Yes. It was for my daughter after all. You have to decide. The crystal can hold the soul only so long without help. The body or set your son's soul free."

Taran's father looked pained but gave a slow heavy nod. "Do it. Give my son this body. Please."

The old man took a knife and carefully cut some plastic wrapping. Revealing the youthful body beneath. His father turned away out of modesty. Taran couldn't do so even if he wanted. And what was the point? If the doctor held his promise this would soon be his body.

With curiosity, he studied the body. It looked a little unfinished. The skin had a slight sheen to it. Like a mannequin. He saw tattoos. One on the chest right between the breasts. The place where humans had their hearts. Another was located on the right forearm. Details eluded Taran but he made out the shape of a large key.

The doctor held the crystal with Taran's soul right above the tattoo on the chest. Reacting to it a small cavity opened. Just big enough to sink in the crystal. The moment the skin closed over the inserted crystal Taran's view vanished. Instead slowly senses returned to him. Hearing, smelling and the sense of touch. The last one curious as he could tell this body felt different from his original, but not quite. However, control of the body was eluding him.

"He isn't moving," Taran's father said close by. His voice tinged with worry.

"Of course," the doctor said. "There is something missing. And your son needs you for it. You see the soul is connected to the body by energy. Most call it Ki. For the prosthetics, we use the same energy so that the soul can move the artificial limb. However here the full-body prosthetic has a huge disadvantage. Ki can only be produced in a normal body of flesh and bone. As this body is entirely artificial no Ki can be produced. Leaving the soul unable to control the body."

"But you must have found a way to make it work, right? Some way to bypass this drawback," Taran's father insisted.

"Yes and that is where you come in. Place your hand on the tattoo on the arm and say 'reveal the key'."

Taran felt his father's touch and then heard the words followed by a gasp. Then something metallic landed on his new arm only to be picked up.

"This is one of two keys. Magical devices not just for transferring Ki, but also generating it inside another person's body. Help me to prop up the upper body."

Taran felt hands grab under his new chest. Lifting him upwards and forward.

"Here in the back, there is a small tattoo shaped like a keyhole. Use the key there."

Something cold touched his back. Taran reasoned it must be the key. The cold touch didn't last long as he felt the rather strange feeling of the key sinking into his skin.

"Now wind the body up."

Taran could feel the key turning. Slow, but steadily. Each turn filled him with something. Whatever it was it didn't felt unpleasant. On the third turn, movement returned to Taran. He drew in a lungful of air and managed to open his eyes. Blinking against the sudden brightness.

"Welcome back to the world of the living," the doctor said close by and gave him a lopsided grin. "Sort of..."

"Taran?" he heard his father asked from slightly behind him.

Turning around he saw his father. Worry had etched deep lines into his face in a short amount of time. His eyes were puffy red and his whole look spoke of exhaustion.

"Dad!" Taran exclaimed while drawing his father into a heartfelt hug.

They remained like this for a while till the doctor cleared loudly his throat. Feeling a little awkward both separated.

"Keep turning his key," the doctor instructed. "Until it won't turn anymore. I call the Sheriff."

Mentioning the authorities Taran couldn't help, but look out of the open front door to the corpse covered in a blanket. It was surreal. Here he was alive - kind of - and over there was his old body. Mutilated and broken open.

"Are you okay?" his father asked while resuming the winding of the key. Fresh energy flooded into Taran's new body.

"Yes. Sort of. I ..." He broke off. Not startled by his new feminine voice but because of a loss of words. He stared down his new body. The skin now looked softer and less artificial than before. Most of his lower body was still covered by plastic, but his new breasts were out in the open. Between them, the tattoo that marked where the crystal was hidden along with Taran's soul. It brought him back to the gruesome scene moments before.

"I saw everything," he whispered. "Floated above everything. Couldn't look away. Couldn't blink. I ..."

His father stopped the winding of the key. Instead, he gently put a hand on Taran's shoulder, who leaned his head against his father's chest. Tears started to dwell in Taran's eyes and a moment later he cried with all his soul. Not caring why an artificial body could cry. Just glad that he could.

When the last tear was shed Taran saw a bathrobe draped over the hard case lid. He murmured an ashamed "sorry" to his father and grabbed the robe. Pulling away and slipping into it.

"Don't be," his father softly said. "No one should go through what you have experienced. I thought I had lost you. And I am just glad that you aren't."

With the help of his father, Taran stood up on shaky legs. Soon he got the hang of his new body and with it, he got steadier on his new legs. Still, he sat down on the couch. As he leaned back something poked his back. Remembering the key he tried to twist and reach for it with his arms.

"Let me." His father's gentle voice calmed Taran down and sat still as his father pulled out the key.

A fake clearing of a throat made both look to the doctor who stood nearby.

"If the winding is done place the key on his arm's tattoo and say: 'hide the key'."

His father did as told and once again felt the cold metal on his skin. As the words were uttered the key started to levitate and to glow. In a few heartbeats, it turned to light and wisped into the tattoo. Nothing remained of it but air.

"What now?" Taran wondered aloud.

"I called the Sheriff. She is on her way. I guess you are wondering why you are in a different body."

"No. I heard you. While I was just the crystal. I could see too. Had no choice but to look. I am sorry about your daughter."

"Thank you. But she is long gone. I made my peace with it." Yet despite the doctor's words Taran still saw the pain in his eyes. "Anyway. You might have questions about your new body and its functions."

It was his father who asked first. "It was kind of hard to wind his key. Is it still functioning correctly."

"Yes. In fact, it would be nearly impossible for me to wind him. The key is a device with a practical and symbolic function. The person who winds the key volunteers their own body to Taran to produce Ki within their body. That requires trust. The more trust the easier the Ki production and the faster the key can be turned."

Taran meanwhile examined his new slender hands. "This will take some time getting used to," he murmured. Then he looked at the doctor. "Is there a way to rebuild this body to resemble my old one? I mean can you make this one male?"

Sighing the doctor took a set himself. He looked at Taran as if he was debating what words to use to bring bad news.

"So it is not," Taran concluded out loud.

"It is possible, but ..." the doctor broke off. "I could build a new body or alter your current one. The problem is funding. The body you now inhabit, the one I practically stole, took materials worth two million to build. On top of it countless work-hours and access to some high tech machinery."

"And we are utterly broke," Taran added.

Again he felt his father put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We will find a way to deal with this."

Taran nodded but looked to the doctor as he started talking again. "There is, however, a glimmer of hope. Your body is mostly made up of enchanted magical clay. Animated by the donated Ki by your father. It was designed to mimic a natural body. However, designing goes only so far. In earlier smaller prosthetics we introduced a system with great success. It uses the person's subconscious to adjust itself. Become more realistic."

"The skin," Taran threw in. "It looked more unnatural a while ago."

"Correct. In theory, it could be possible that your subconscious can remodel the whole body to a male one. As both, the magical clay and the skeleton, are designed to be self-repairing and adjustable. However, there is sadly a hurdle. It siphons off Ki from your reserves to do this. On small prosthetics, we had the problem that they would often shut off on the first days of use because it used the hosts Ki to rebuild itself little by little. On your body, this might be more extreme. Watch out that you don't run out at the wrong time or you will be unable to move till someone winds you."

"How long will one full charge of Ki last," Taran wanted to know.

"Best guess. Maybe an hour," the doctor admitted. But he was quick to add to it. "But once your body did most of the adjusting it should expand to longer durations. Maybe four. But that is not all. One of the phenomena was that since we introduced the subconscious remodeling system that, for a lack of better words, the clay evolved. Gaining the ability to store more Ki and use it more efficiently. My team was investigating this when the project was shut down. My current best guess is maybe eight hours in the long run."

"We can manage that," Taran's father said and squeezed Taran's shoulder. While Taran didn't feel that confident that he could, his father gave him some hope that he just might.

All three looked at the front door as they now heard sirens slowly coming closer. A minute later they could differentiate two pairs of sirens. The doctor stood up and walked to the door. Taran was at a loss on how to explain this mess to the authorities. Still, he knew he couldn't avoid it. Sighing he stood up.

"I am okay," he said as he saw his father's worried look. Together they followed the doctor outside. Taran quickly averted his eyes from his old body. Blood had soaked the blanket above the hole that once had contained Taran's heart.

An SUV of the sheriff's department and a paramedic stopped right beside Taran's father's car. It was so riddled by bullets and charred by spells that Taran wondered how it had last so long, to begin with.

A late thirties woman exited the sheriff's car and put on a hat that looked like a mix of Bonney and witch hat. One look at the car and covered blanket made her face hard and grim. "Arthur. What happened here?" she demanded from the doctor.

"Krem-Mages. Not ten minutes ago. They hunted for a sacrifice," the old man said.

Cursing the sheriff ran back to her car. Snatching the radio to relay the news. Meanwhile, the paramedics got out but saw nothing could be done anymore. They waited at the sidelines till they were called.

Still cursing the sheriff got back. "Someone dropped the ball here. Krem-Mages so deep in witch-country. They should have been flagged the moment they took a step over the border." Shaking her head she stepped closer and offered her hand to Taran's father. "Sheriff Hester. And you are?"

"Morgan. James Morgan. I am the father."

The sheriff crouched down beside the body and lifted the blanket from the body to take a look. "Who is the victim?"

"My son, Taran."

Sheriff Hester looked up surprised how calm the father of the victim said it. Then she looked at the girl clad only a bathrobe. "And you are?"

"I am the victim," Taran blurted out while blushing.

Seeing the confusion on the sheriff's face the doctor stepped in. "Jeanne. You remember what I told you about my previous work? This is it. A full-body prosthetic."

"No way," she said with a shocked expression.

"It was the only way to save my soul," Taran quickly said flustered. "I didn't ask to be a girl. Had no choice."

The grim look on the sheriff's face returned. She gave a last look at the dead body and covered it. Then she waved the paramedics over.

"I need a statement from all of you. Probably best with the mayor and his aid in attendance given that Krem-mages are involved."

Taran's father - James - nodded. "May I grab some clothes for my son?"

"Go ahead," Sheriff Hester said with a nod.

Taran followed his father to their car and promptly starred in shock at it. It was a flat-out miracle that the ride has made it this far. The backend was riddled with bullet holes. Concentrated around the back wheels. Probably to take them out and force them to stop. Other less aimed bullets had impacted in the trunk. And with a wince, Taran reminded himself that one bullet had made it far enough into the car to bury itself in his stomach.

Opening the trunk they soon found out what might have saved their lives. Or rather the life of his father. A few states back they had practically raided a second-hand store for clothes as they had started their escape with just their car and their clothes on their back. The two trunks now proofed to be riddled with bullet holes.

Still, James popped them open to see if anything could be salvaged. A few shirts sported only one or two holes in them. Better than a bathrobe.

Meanwhile, Taran held jeans up. "And I thought ripped jeans are in. Not punched through by bullets. Krem-mages have no fashion sense."

The dry humor elicited a chuckle from his father. One that was contagious to Taran and soon both were laughing.

The Sheriff looked over at them but was stopped by the doctor putting his hand on her shoulder. "Everyone deals with stress in their own way," he whispered.

Taran excused himself while carrying some clothes inside. He returned in an ill-fitting outfit that showed way too much skin. "We should stop at my home," Sheriff Hester offered. "I may have some clothes that might fit you better."

Not particularly eager to wear woman's clothes Taran still accepted the offer with thanks.

Soon everyone was climbing into the Sheriff's car. As they drove away from the cabin Taran saw his old body being pushed into the paramedics truck. He wondered if it would be the last time he saw his own old body.

Maybe ten minutes in, Taran suddenly lost control of his new body and slumped against his father in the backseat.

"Doctor!" James at once shouted. Making the doctor riding shotgun turn around.

He only needed a moment to assess the situation. "You did wind him fully, right?"

With a blush, James recalled being interrupted midway. "Maybe not."

"Just wind him again," the doctor advised with a gentle smile on his face. "This will happen a few more times till Taran's soul gets used to his body and the clay evolves."

James nodded. He summoned the key as shown before and propped Taran up to have access to his backside. While he was wound up Taran was helpless and could only look straight ahead. He noticed the Sheriff doing her best not to stare at the scene taking place on the backseat through the rearview mirror. This might be very embarrassing if his father ever needed to wind him up in public.

Soon Taran could move again but had to remain still so his father could finish winding him up. The silence in the car was broken as Taran had to chuckle. "I finally manage to relax and you get me all wound up again."

Small laughs filled the car and Taran thought he even made the Sheriff smile for a moment.

"Why do I feel that this won't be the last doll-related pun I hear," his father said with an amused sigh.

"Because, new body, but the same old soul you know and love," Taran countered. Which earned him a squeeze of the shoulder and a hug by his father.

The quick stop at the Sheriff's house turned out longer than expected. Taran's new body hadn't quite top model measurements, but it was close. Finding some sweatpants and a loose blouse still was better than the shirt he wore before. The one that tried to imitate cheese with all its holes.

The town proved to be quite scenic as it was nestled against a forest of redwood trees. It wasn't like his own hometown where tourism and retirees swamped the streets. It appeared to be more the sleepy kind of town. Cozy, he soon added in his mind.

The Sheriff parked in front of a big red brick-house that appeared to be old but well maintained. There he was shuffled into the waiting room together with his father and the doctor. Then they waited. Long enough that the doctor suggested that Taran was wound up once more.

Slightly out of breath a tall woman rushed past them - and the waiting area - into the mayor's office. What struck Taran as most peculiar was her clothes. A long flowing dark robe and a pointy hat. He knew he was in witch territory, but this was a little on the nose.

"That was council witch Snyder," Sheriff Hester remarked who came into the waiting room at a more casual pace a second later. "Don't mind her attire. She likes to keep pushing people's buttons." The Sheriff knocked on the door and was let in a moment later.

Again they waited. His time only a few minutes. The door opened and the Sheriff waved them in. Taran had to suppress a whistle. The mayor's office was long. The sides lined by bookshelves that stretched to the ceiling and a few benches. One closest to the desk was chosen by the Sheriff to take a seat.

The end of the room was dominated by a large wooden table with intricate carvings. Impressive, but not as much as the wry old lady sitting behind it. The placate identified her as Mayor Lorena Woodwire. Behind her - leaning on the wall - was council witch Snyder. Her gaze was focused on Taran, which made him slightly uncomfortable.

"Welcome Mister Morgan. Miss Morgan," the mayor said after standing up. Her smile was warm and her voice was heavy yet melodious. After a moment Taran's mind caught up and only registered now that with 'Miss Morgan' she meant him. That brought a blush to his face.

"I wish we would've met under better circumstances," the Mayor continued. After offering her hand for a handshake she gestured towards the chairs in front of her desk. "Please take a seat."

The Morgan's did as told, while the doctor sat down beside the Sheriff.

"I am terribly sorry that we - the domain of Salem witches - couldn't protect you from the Krem-Mages," Mayor Woodwire said with a sad shake of her head. "Let me assure you are under our protection now."

"So we are safe?" James - Taran's father - asked.

"No," came the short and immediate response of council witch Snyder.

Mayor Woodwire shot the council witch a quick but nasty look. "I fear you won't be truly safe as long as your soul remains on the plain of the living. Ester, you seem eager to speak. Why don't you explain why."

The council witch frowned when she was called by her first name, but caught herself immediately. "Each soul has limited access to magic. With experience, one can optimize it, but the limit remains. Krem-mages found a way around this restriction. They can take in a second soul and bend it to their will. Cast magic through it and effectively double their access to magic. However, there seems to be a limitation of what souls are eligible. Their theory that souls that entered the plain of the living at the same time or close to it proofed to be right for now."

"The witches of the Salem domain tried for years to evict them out of the Confederacy," the Mayor Woodwire took over. "We have given refuge to people from other domains from time to time. There is a protection program in place we would like you to place in."

"What would that entail?" James asked.

"A new last name for both of you. There is no interest in them for you as a father. And Taran, they think you are dead. If we keep it that way you are reasonably safe."

"That is a generous offer," James replied and Taran nodded too. "I don't know how we can repay you."

"There is no need," Mayor Woodwire assured them. "We know that you have no valuables on you and we wouldn't ask for them even if you had. So far every refugee we took in contributed to this society. And we don't mean by money or material means. We strive to provide you a safe and hopefully happy place to live. It is the hope that one day you will repay this kindness to others in need."

"We will do our best," James promised.

"Thank you so much," Taran added.

"Sheriff Hester offered to let you stay at her place and she will help you set up new legal identities," the Mayor added. With that being said they were dismissed. They said the customary farewells and followed the sheriff out.

*****

Tara was awakened by rays of the sun that found their way past the blinds. Lazily she stretched and was happy to do so. This was the second morning that she had retained the ability to move after waking up. The last two months had been hard as she had to get used to her new body and it to her.

She still remembered the first morning in her new body. She had awoken paralyzed. Couldn't even open her eyes. At first, there was panic, until she remembered her new body. That it needed to be wound up. Charged by someone who helped donate Ki. The energy of the body.

Her father had been equally in panic when he had found her. Only the call to the doctor reminded him that it was his job to wind her up. One that slowly was expanded to a small group of trusted people.

There was a knock on her door and Tara was happy that this time she could answer it. "You can come in."

"Good morning Tara," her father said with a small smile on his lips. "So sleeping beauty is awake."

"I might go back to sleep if you don't hurry," she teased back.

It was good to hear her father laugh. Deep lines of worry had etched itself in the skin of his face when they had to flee Greater Florida. Now most of them had smoothened out again. Tara asked herself what was the cause. Was it her, coming to terms with her new body, or the town that welcomed them? Maybe it was the Sheriff? She had more than once noticed the small glances they both exchanged.

"Time for my morning workout," her father said with a grin. He was of course joking. Tara trusted him completely and in turn, the Ki transferring device that was her key worked with him best. Sheriff Hester or the Doc had more work to do. The tail end took the school nurse. She was still heaving with exhaustion when she was done.

James summoned the key and Tara parted the sewed in slid on the back of her pajama top. By now the strange feeling of being wound up nearly felt normal.

"Ready for the big day?" Her father asked.

"Back to school. So boring," Tara remarked. Despite those words, she looked forward to it. It had taken months for her body to learn to store enough Ki to last for hours. Still, it wasn't enough. The school nurse was brought in and was being told Tara's secret. Over the last weeks, she had been trained to wind up Tara. Which was mostly to build up trust between each other.

The plan was simple. To hide Tara's real condition she was allowed to lie. Citing a strange and rare illness. Instead of eating lunch with other kids she will visit the nurse in her office and get a top-up of Ki from her.

"Can't fool me kiddo," her father said with a grin. He hid the key in its dimensional space and gave her a pat on the shoulder. "Get ready. See you downstairs."

That left Tara with her least favorite chore of the morning: finding clothes to wear. She might now have a female body and female name, but that didn't mean she had a fitting fashion sense too. In the end, it was yet another ensemble she called "teen model tries to look like a tomboy" and headed to the small bathroom of the apartment.

Showered and dressed she made her way downstairs. They now officially rented the small upstairs apartment in the Sheriff's house that she used to rent out to tourists. There was a small kitchenette upstairs but she and her father got in the habit to eat breakfast together with the Sheriff.

"Good morning Jeanne," Tara greeted the Sheriff. Might as well get used to it. It might be still early but Tara had the hunch that one day the Sheriff might become her step-mom. But till both of them got past those small glances at each other Tara pretended she did notice anything.

Breakfast consisted of a grilled cheese sandwich. Not that Tara still needed to eat. In fact, to 'digest' it cost her some Ki. Still, eating was part of being normal. It made her feel more human. And she loved the taste of grilled cheese.

"Need a last wind up before school?" the Sheriff - Jeanne - asked.

Not that it was that crucial, but a half-hour gained might be worth it. It also helped build trust with her. "Yes, please."

This time it was a little more awkward. Not because of who wound her, but the clothes that came in the way. Tara had to hold up her top while the Sheriff wound her. Jeanne not only had to turn the key but also pull the strap of the bra down as it was right on top of the point where the key was to be inserted.

After thanking her and saying their goodbyes Tara and her father walked to his truck. An old beat up one that his new boss provided him. He would drop her off at school and then get to his new work: roadside construction.

As they pulled up to the curb in front of the school Tara hesitated to get out.

"Stagefright?" James asked.

"Maybe," Tara admitted. "Still can't believe this is my new life."

"I know. You miss our old home, your old friends and most of all your old body. But we can't live in the past. You'll do great. You did so the last two months. Always remember: death couldn't stop you. So what is a little school compared to it."

A shy smile formed on Tara's lips. With a last sigh, she opened the door. "See you later Dad."

"Go knock them out," he wished her.

Then she slipped out of the truck. She took a last deep breath and headed towards the school. To a new life. New friends. And probably new adventures. But if so whoever stood in Tara's way, they would learn an important lesson. She might look like a doll and be wound up like one, but she wasn't as fragile as one. She was a fighter. No more running, she swore to herself. Sure steps lead her onward.

Small Author notes: Hi. Believe it or not, this was the first story I had written. I had my own reasons why I delayed it, but I guess it is time to brush off the dust and finally hand it to you guys and gals. Just bear in mind this was my first work and hence the writing is a little rough and unpolished. I mean more than usual for me. This story was also the first in a planned trilogy. I haven't written the other two. Yet. But I assure you that the story ends at least somewhat satisfactory for a pilot story.

So please give it a try.
Cassy

Darrel blew out the candles on his birthday cake. Finally 16 years old. The time when dimension mages gain their power and make their first steps creating worlds. He actually felt his power come to him a few days earlier.

“So when will we be seeing your first work?” asked his father. He sat close by with his mother.

Darrel looked to his father. “Not yet. I still have to add some details. And by now I heard enough of uncle Rupert’s stories about what can go wrong that I absolutely want to make sure no mistakes sneaked themselves in.”

His mother chuckled and said: “Don’t worry Darrell honey. Mistakes happen and we learn from them. If your world wouldn’t have any .. well it would be a first for all dimension mages. Everyone messes up the first time.”

Darrel hoped his parents weren’t right but thought better than to insist on being different. After a while, he got up and headed to his room. Birthdays were for friends and gifts. But not the sixteenth for a dimension mage. This birthday the mage has to gift him or herself with the grandest gift of them all: an own world.

Just as he arrived he heard outside the clap of a closing car door. It was Sarah, his neighbor's daughter. She was also the girl every guy in school was after. Darrel included. Sighing he looked away.

Darrell took a thick book from his shelf. His work of the last year. In it, he described his soon to be first world of hopefully many. He did copy the practice to write a book about a world from his parents. Both were mages. With only a few thousand mages on earth, it was pretty rare that two mages found themselves to fall in love.

Darrel thought for a moment about his parents and how they used their gift. His father was an architect and his current world was one where he could summon buildings from blueprints. Then he could test the design by literally put them to the extremes. Weather, disasters and time. The buildings had to prove them self against them all.

His mother did go a different way. She was the most energetic in the family and loved to do sports. Only her love for driving was stronger. No wonder that she created a world, where she could drive any car on any track she wanted, with the snap of her fingers. The practical use came handy as she was the lead designer for a gaming company throwing out each year that racing game that was a must buy for every racing fan.

Sighing he looked down at his book and wondered if his work would be as practical. Thanks to his mother he was much into video games, but in contrast to her, he favored the slower paced RPGs (role-playing games). So he thought a world based on RPG rules might be nice and most of his book were filled with them.

For the world itself, he thought he was kinda smart. If a person would enter they would land in a duplicate of the place they left earth of. This would be a start area. The farther you traveled the harder the enemies would become.

Darrel opened his book and turned pages till he found the first blank page. Currently, he was working on figuring out how the currency earned would be exchanged for goods. Sure, he could create a world where everything was free but he enjoyed challenges to much to go the easy way.

In the next hour, he wrote down how each shop would have a salesperson representing said shop. That they would offer an inventory based on what the shop would offer back on earth and a lot of other details.

Suddenly he remembered the one time he and his parents visited a close by ice cream parlor. The sales clerk was looking like he passed the time, when no one was around, by sampling his own wares. In other words, he was obscenely fat.

Darrel shuddered. Not that he had anything against overweight people but he decided that he wanted only people in his world that were attractive to him. He thought for a moment about how he would write it down. As his page was full he turned it and wrote on the new one:”Everyone in this world is a pretty, beautiful, cute, sexy, athletic or attractive (or a mix of these attributes) girl.”
Darrell congratulated himself for the phrasing and thought he covered anything so only good-looking shopkeepers would be around.

Next, he worked some more detail into the combat system.

***** Chapter 2 *****

When it turned evening Darrell got up from working on his book. He and his parents were expected in his uncle Rupert’s world for celebration with his extended family. He joined his parents in the main room and after a bit of fussing around from his mother was declared ready.

He and his mother grabbed each lightly the shoulder of his father, waiting for his incantation of the entering-phrase. His father sighed and shook his head like every time before he began.
“I search for heavenly delight we leave this world behind!”
After that, he clapped his hands three times. As swirling lights surrounded them they all had to grin again.

“What a tacky incantation,” Darrel thought. But knowing his uncle Rupert it sort of made sense. The lights faded and they found themselves in a desert beneath a bright sun. Just ahead was a big building, white plaster mixed with a dark wood.

“Curious mix. Hmm. I think that's Ottomanian mixed with influences of Nara style Japanese architecture.” commented Darrell’s dad.

Darrell gave his mother some rolling eyes and she just shrugged. Both were used to the cryptic mumbling of his dad.
Together they entered what was probably the finest restaurant of all dimensions. His uncle created this world to fulfill his hunger for fine culinary art. In the kitchen were copies of the most famous and talented cooks found on earth. The service staff themselves were copies of the current A-grade of Hollywood actors. Dining here was always special.

Darrel forced a smile on his face. As good as the food and entertainment were he also had to endure his whole extended family. And today he was the focus of everyone's attention.

A few hours later everything wound down. Most already left and Darrel patted his stuffed tummy.
“So much for the exercises, I forced myself through all summer,” he thought.

The voice of his uncle pulled him back to reality.
“So Darrell, how is your world coming along?”
Before Darrel could answer his uncle droned on.
“Hope you aren’t too naughty. You know naughty and mistakes go hand in hand. Especially for young boys. Did I ever tell you the story about the boy and his harem world?”

Again he barely made a break before he continued on.
”You see there was that boy a few decades back. Thought himself a stud. You know how it is. Well, he filled his world with the most beautiful girls. And then on top, he made them all nymphomaniac to the power of ten.”

His uncle gave Darrell a meaningful look and continued:”The first time the boy entered his world he brought some friends along. Never a good idea. As soon as the woman's spotted the boys they rushed over. I think you are old enough to imagine what followed next. The problem was when one girl was done the next one was already there. Soon the boys became exhausted but the girls didn’t care. They couldn’t think past their needs. So they went on and on. Sure enough, the boys tried to leave but try saying an exit incantation when three women try to bury their tongue in your mouth. The end is .. well they all died.”

Darrel looked bemused at his parents and waited for them to laugh or so. Instead, his mother laid a hand on his and said:”Just be careful honey okay?”

Soon afterward they got home. Before Darrel slipped into bed he had to correct something. His shopkeepers weren’t nymphomaniac but just to be sure he opened the page and crossed out every sentence on that page. He vowed to replace them in the morning with something harmless. Maybe self-service kiosks. But that had time.

***** Chapter 3 *****

A few days later was the last weekend before the summer break was up. Not that Darrel minded much. His parents just had gone out the door, leaving him parent-free for the weekend. They were off to visit some gaming convention in Canada. No supervision meant also he could explore his world the first time without being bothered.

He lovingly patted his book. Last night he finished the last part. Without human NPCs, he thought it could get a bit lonely. So he implemented a summoning system to pull people from earth temporarily into his world.

Making sure his parents were really gone he started. Most would think creating and shaping the world would be flashy, but if anyone would have stumbled into Darrel’s room, it would be a floating book midair slightly glowing. Unseen Darrel reached out through space and time and grabbed onto an unused dimension. Slowly he connected it to the book, forced it to bend itself to the rules written in it. Page by page, sentence by sentence. The whole process was pretty much automatic and by instinct. Without the book, it would have taken hours if not days. With it, Darrel was done just within 5 minutes.

He grinned. His first world was done. Suddenly abuzz he couldn’t wait anymore. Grabbing his book he said the incantation to travel to his world:”Enter super battle world!”

As light spiraled around him he shrugged. Sure his phrase was tacky too, but he hadn’t come up with anything better. Maybe a family trait.
As the light faded around him he found himself in his room again. For a moment he thought it hadn’t worked.

Then he spotted the user interface floating nearby. Just the way it was supposed to be. What wasn’t specified was that floating exclamation mark icon that flashed bright red. Worried he hit it. “ERROR:,” it said. “Violation of Page 314 Sentence 1 found. Searching for a solution.”

Darrel furrowed his eyebrows. He opened his book and tried to find page 314. He stumbled upon 313. The page about shopkeepers. Every sentence neatly crossed out. He turned the page. There on top was the first sentence:”Everyone in this world is a pretty, beautiful, cute, sexy, athletic or attractive (or a mix of these attributes) girl.”

He face-palmed himself and then tried to find a pen to cross out the offending rule. A ding sound made him look up from his search. “Acceptable solution found. Setting the solution as default for resolving this error.”

Before Darrel could make sense of it all he noticed a weird tingling sensation quickly spreading over his body. Panic tried to grip him. The tingling became stronger and he felt nauseated. Shortly after darkness filled his vision as he blacked out.

An uncomfortable pain woke him up. Something was pressed under him against his chest. Slowly he opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was a dainty hand and slender arm laying beside him. He tried to push himself up and noticed that the arm moved with him as if … it was his own.

Slowly he lifted his upper body from the floor. The dull pain that bothered him faded away, but some weight still clung to him. As he sat up he looked down. Somehow his shirt had become bigger. Or did he get smaller? He thought his arms looked smaller for sure. There was only one place his shirt was still tight. Warily he lifted the neckline and peeked below it. Oddly disconnected he noted to himself “Yep. Those are breasts.”

Standing up he noticed that his whole body changed. Curious he stepped over to the mirror in his room. A raven-haired beauty stared back at him, mimicked every movement he made. Every detail he saw was perfection. High cheekbones, a slightly pouty mouth with full lips. Piercing blue eyes. Below his, or was it her, neck where full breasts. Maybe a C- or even D-Cup. It was hard to tell for Darrell as they only contoured underneath his shirt. Below them, the shirt was very loose. As he explored his midriff by hands he noticed his very small waist and then his very curvy hips.

Darrel muttered in disbelief to himself: “I am a wet dream come true.” He was immediately shocked how his voice sounded. Higher but also a bit rough. Smokey some would say. He shook his head in disbelief and the long curls of his raven hair shock with him. Now slowly it dawned on him just how bad he messed up.

His eyes darted around his room and fell on his phone. Picking it up he tried to call his parents, only to get no signal. He tried a few times till he noticed the interface of his world still floating nearby. He face-palmed and said to himself “Duh. I am still in my world. No cell towers here that connect back to earth.”

A small ding did draw his attention to the interface. He did read the last entry in the log:”Darrell suffered 1 damage of friendly fire inflicted by Darrell with the weapon palm.” The absurdity caused Darrel to face-palm yet again. A moment later another ding sounded and another line in the log appeared.

His panic was momentarily halted by the humor of his situation and he calmed down. He did draw an unsteady breath and said: “Exit battle world.”

The lights came and went. Darrel rushed to his cell phone and dialed his father. As soon as he picked up Darrell blurred out:”Dad! I messed up big time. I don’t know what to do Dad.”

After a short moment, his father replied:”Calm down miss. I think you miss-dialed.”

“Oh no Dad it’s me, Darrell. Just listen okay? I messed up! You and mom need to come back.” A slight panic has crept into his voice.

“Darrel, is it really you? Playing pranks with a voice changer again?”

“Oh my gosh, dad just listen! There was a faulty line in my book. When I entered my world it made me a girl. A real girl. What am I supposed ..”

He couldn’t continue as a loud laugh boomed through the speaker and fragments of what he might guess was “Oh I always wanted a daughter!” Apparently, his mother had listened in.

It took a few moments to calm his mother down before his dad could speak again. When his father could be heard again he said:”Listen we just landed in Canada. We can’t just turn around. You have to manage yourself until tomorrow evening. Maybe you find something in your world to help you.”

Darrel put the phone down and thought that the call didn’t help much. He thought about if he could alter his world to help him but quickly noticed that he doesn’t have enough juice in him to alter anything but minor details.

By now he was feeling slightly peckish and turned to head to the kitchen. Only to stumble over his long pants. Cursing he admitted to himself that if he had to spend a day like this at least he should get some more fitting clothes. After grabbing a snack, this time without falling over, he entered his world. After all, it was made in a way for shopping.

As he did leave his home he tried to decide where to head first. This mind drew blanks. He did know nothing about dressing up as a woman. As his gaze did go by his neighbors Sarah's house he had an idea. “Maybe a guide will help. Good that I implemented a summoning system”. With that, he summoned Sarah, his secret crush.

***** Chapter 4 *****

Sarah yawned and slowly did go out of her bed. She shouldn’t have partied late the day before, as she glanced at the clock that was just shy of noon. A quick shower and she were ready for the day. Just as she had finished donning her bra and panties a swirl of light surrounded her.

As fast as the light came it vanished. To Sarah's surprise, she was now standing on the street in front of her house. The whole street was abandoned but a lone raven beauty in oddly oversized cloth.

Suddenly remembering that she wore only underwear she tried to cover herself with her hands and as that wasn’t helping much she started running for her house.

The start of a yell came from behind her: “Wait! Watch out for the …”

It was cut short as Sarah slammed face first into a wall. Landing on her bum she looked around but saw no obstacle or anything similar.

“Sorry about that.” came from behind her.

The raven-haired girl caught up, looking funny as she was clearly struggling with her oversized clothes. More to herself than to Sarah she muttered: “.. thought I gave all summoned copies knowledge of the basic rules..”

Then she looked at Sarah and points in the direction Sarah was running. “See the faint lines on the ground? Sorta creating a grid? Those are the movement squares. Everyone can only walk a set number of them per minute in this world.”

Giving a hand, the raven-haired girl helped Sarah up. Of course, she had to let go of her pants to do that. They in turned slipped down, along with boxer shorts. Sarah didn’t know what was going on but the strange situation made her laugh. The accusing look on the girl's face only stoked the fires of her amusement. Finally settling down she looked around. Both of them were half naked on the street. But no one else was around. It crept her out a bit.

“Okay. So what is going on?”

The girl looked relieved. “Well uhm.. we are in another world. Here are different rules. Don’t worry we are alone in this world. Well, how do I explain it the best? I am a mage. And I created this world. Though I have to admit I messed it up a bit. You know Darrell right? Your neighbor?”

Sarah nodded.
“Sure. A bit nerdy and shy but okay.”

Somehow that made the girl blush even more.
“Well yeah. Uhm that’s me. I am Darrel.”

That made Sarah laugh again. “Oh, no way. Darrell is tall and lanky. And you are definitely neither of those.”

Another blush followed. Whatever this weirdness is, seeing her blush partially makes up for it. “Well, this is where I messed up. There was one old clause I forgot to erase. It says that only pretty girls can exist here. When I traveled here the first time this happened.”

Sarah thought that was indeed interesting. It would also explain her oversized clothes and her disarray. “So that explains why you are here. Why am I here?”

The girl fidget.
“Uhm till my parents are back I am stuck this way and till then I need clothes.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“And I don’t know anything about girl clothes. I needed a guide so to speak.”

“Still doesn’t explain why me. There are other girls more stylish than me. Better choices.”

The girl hesitated again.
“Well, I uh .. I kinda had always a crush on you. And I thought a copy of you might be nice.”

Now it was Sarah's turn to blush, but only slightly. She had suspected that Darrell was into her.
“Wait. What was that about a copy of me?”

“Oh, my. I guess I messed up there too. You see because it’s a secret that my family and I are mages, I can’t just tell my friends. But I thought it would be nice to explore this world with them. So I created a system where I can summon copies of them. I thought I added that copies would know the basics of this world. But I clearly messed up there too. Sorry.”

That was a lot to stomach for Sarah. “So I am not real? I feel real.” Darrell shook his head but stopped annoyed by the long strands of hair flying around.

“Okay okay. Uhm. But why exactly did you summon me while I was in underwear?”

Again Darrel blushed.
“I didn’t know that you weren’t dressed. It copies the person when they are summoned with their current clothes.”

“So you wouldn’t mind that I finish dressing?”

Darrell shook again his head but as Sarah turned to her house he quickly added:”That won’t work. The houses are empty. I mean I didn’t want to snoop and to remove the temptation to do so I made the rule that no private items are copied.”

“So you are saying I am stuck half naked?”

Darrel saw an opening and talked fast. “Well no. Shops here in this world sell stuff too. You see we can earn money here too. Then we get stuff here in the mall or shops. Uh, I can’t believe I am saying this but we could shop together.”

Sarah threw her arms up in mock annoyance. “Fine. But Darrel ... No, wait. Can’t call you Darrel while you look like that. Hmm D. D. D. Diana? Hmm no. D. Hmm, Doreen. Urg no. Hmm. Oh, I have it. Dea. Short and close to your normal name. Kinda. So ready Dea?”

The newly christened Dea let her head hang again.
“I am I guess.”

“So Dea tell me one thing. How do we get to the mall? I don’t see any cars around?”

Now that Sarah mentioned it Dea saw it too. “We walk I guess. After all, we have to earn money first too.” Together they started walking.

***** Chapter 5 *****

Together they made poor progress. Sarah was walking with bare feet and Dea had to constantly adjust her clothes. They usually could only move about three fourth of their allotted squares. It was about two blocks down when they noticed two shapes approaching. Maybe as big as basketballs but not nearly as round. They were semi-transparent. Two cartoon-like eyes and a mouth decorated them.

“Slimes!” Dea shouted delighted. “I wondered what starter mob I would run into.”

Sarah was confused by these creatures. “Slimes?”

“Oh um. They are often starter monsters in role-playing games. Kinda weak. Think of them as big drops of living jelly.”

Dea did move over to the side of the street and picked up two branches. Coming back she handed one to Sarah.

“We are gonna fight them? Why would you add some enemies anyway?”

Dea grinned a bit silly.
“Sure we fight them. Just swing at the border of the square they are in. And the reason why. Having your private world with easy access to everything would be too easy. I like a challenge.”

Dea moved off to hit on the first slime. Shrugging Sarah moved to her own. After a few hits, the slime retaliated. Some floating pop-up window appeared, which she ignored. A few strikes later her slime disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Leaving a few casino chips behind. Peeking over she looked at Dea. She did swing and swing again but most of the time a ding was heard and a word “Missed!” floated by.

“Arg. Why can’t I hit it?”

Seeing Dea try to hit a slime by swinging at the air in front of it while trying not to lose her oversized clothes, made Sarah laugh. “Maybe lose a few clothes? They don’t help do they?”

Now the slime did manage to get a few hits in as Dea tried to decide what to shrug out of. T-shirt? No way her breasts would be out in the open. Settling on the pants she pulled them off. She tried again. This time, it went better. Sarah didn’t mind much. Seeing a pretty girl in an oversized t-shirt and boxers moving around was certainly a sight. Somehow it reminded her of slumber parties and pillow fights.

Sarah was pulled back out of her dream world by a puffing sound. Dea’s slime vanished in a cloud of smoke too. Leaving behind a few casino chips and … shoes! Sarah quickly snatched them. “I need those more. If we get something you need more it’s yours. Hmm, panties for example.”

Dea looked down were Sarah looked. Followed by a blushing that would put tomatoes to shame. Her boxer shorts had managed to slide over her hips and down her legs. Leaving Dea’s lower body completely nude. Turning around Sarah gave her some moments to find her shorts again and her dignity. Noticing the pop up again she asked:”118 of 130 health?”

“Oh yeah. Part of the challenge.”

“What happens when it goes to zero?”

Dea was still fumbling around with her boxers, trying to put a knot in so they would be tighter. “You re-spawn where you entered the world. Minus all your stuff.”

Sarah meanwhile had another more urgent question:”So these monsters. What are they based on?”

Dea finally managed to adjust her boxers and looked proud at Sarah. “In a general purpose? They are based on the subconscious of the players. Since I am currently the only player the slimes are based on me.”

Sarah gave her a big wide grin and pointed behind Dea.“Subconscious you say? In that case, you have some explaining to do.”

Just as Dea turned around to look a big soft pillow hit her square in the face. Giggling came from two girls, not ten squares away. Though not normal girls. They were scantily clad in only nightgowns. Those did not hide the other features well. The cat ears, tails, and paws. Dea agreed. Her subconscious had some serious explaining to do.

What followed was the most embarrassing fight for Dea. Their enemies were constantly giggling save for the moment when they were hit. Then they moaned like they experienced pleasure instead of pain. When the last cat-girl was vanquished Dea’s face was bright red.

Sarah meanwhile had the most fun in a long time. With her pinky, she held up panties.”Look what I found for you, Dea. Panties!”

Dea eyed the offered garment like it was poisonous. “No way. That thing barely covers anything and when it does it can be seen through.” Dea marched on and Sarah quickly followed. But not before she put the panties to her own loot.

***** Chapter 6 *****

When they finally arrived at the mall Dea was just about to give up on her world. Sure they had battled some more slimes. But there also were more cat-girls and an encounter with a ‘voluminous beach babe’. Of course, she had to endure jibe after jibe from Sarah. Especially when one catgirl's curse managed to hit Dea and she could only say “nyah” for ten minutes or purr.

Dea knew that shops were safe zones. No mob attacks there. So she didn’t complain when Sarah dragged her into the next ‘forever sweet’ boutique. A shop that catered to the need of teenage girls. Sarah quickly vanished between the cloth racks. Dea placed her meager loot on the counter and looked around. She hated shopping for clothes. And she had a hunch that this time might be worse. True to her feeling Sarah came back with a bunch of skirts.

“Oh no no no. No skirts. I just wanna get some pants and a shirt and be done for today.”

Sarah, however, gave her a sour look and didn’t back down. “Why am I here Dea? Wasn’t it to ‘advise you’? So that’s what I am gonna do. And you will try everything I throw your way.”

Dea looked down, feeling guilty. She nodded. When she looked up again she barely managed to catch a package thrown her way. It was a three pack of plain white cotton panties.

“Boxers and skirts don’t mix.” came the more or less helpful remark from Sarah.

Over the next 2 hours, Dea had to model not just a dozen outfits. Dea was convinced that Sarah made her try on each piece of clothing at least twice. Her only reprieve was the breaks were Sarah was trying something on herself. Sarah was quite happy and her good mood constantly threatened to infect Dea. When they were ready to leave Dea was carrying bags with four skirts, five blouses, and three shirts. New shoes and some plain underwear.

They were at the counter and going over their balance. The shops worked in a specific way. Everything brought into the store and remained was plus balance. Everything taken out was minus balance. You could only leave with a neutral or positive balance.

Sarah noticed something behind the counter:”Hey what’s this?”

Dea looked up from their loot and haul and inspected what Sarah was holding. “It’s a knowledge card. It gives you knowledge or skill. It was a spontaneous thing that I added. Shops should sometimes have cards depending on what they sell or are about.”

“Well, in that case, do you want to learn about “This fall's trend: how to accessorize with scarves?” Dea only gave her a raspberry and continued to calculate their balance.

Soon after they left the store. Dea was amazed that they only had spent near one-third of their so far earned credits. As she wanted to turn around to go home when she noticed Sarah was walking in the opposite direction.

She quickly shouted after her:”Hey where are you going. I have everything I need. Let’s head home.” Slowly Sarah came back, but something was wrong. She looked sad and angry.

“Dea let me ask you a question. What happens when you leave? What happens to this world when you go to the normal world?”

Dea suddenly had a hard time swallowing. She couldn’t look Sarah in the eyes but answered her in a quiet tone:”The world resets. To be reformed when a player returns.”

“And along the copies vanish right? Copies like me.”

Dea nodded.

Sarah hesitated and then walked to a nearby bench. “Today is Saturday. Do you know what I usually do on Saturdays? No, I didn’t think so. I hide it to carefully. Every Saturday I go to the bus stop and take one to the next city. Then I spend the rest of the day as a telemarketer. Do you know why?”

Dea came over to the bench. She sat down and shook her head.

“My mother left when I was little. My father, well you know he is a drunkard, is unemployed. If it wasn’t for a few shares in the internet start-up he worked as a janitor and it’s dividends we would have nothing. That what we have left is barely enough each month and is usually drunken away by my father. Whenever I want to have anything nice I have to earn it. I can’t go on shopping sprees like my friends. Can’t even spare the time. And now here we are. For the first time in my life, I can shop and try on and do whatever. And that time I am only a copy. To be erased soon. Dea, I know you didn’t mean ill. I know that you are a good person. But, now. Right now. I wanna be selfish. I wanna spend more time here. I wanna do stuff with a girlfriend like normal girls do. Please. Can’t we spend the day here? Have a bit fun? Don’t you owe me at least this much?”

Dea’s eyes were wet, matching those of Sarah. She gave a much-needed hug to Sarah and waited while she cried on her shoulder. When every tear was shed she gave a gentle:”Sure we can. Where to next?” Dea decided that Sarah was right. She owed her that much.

Sarah had settled on a shoe shop close by. “I always wanted to shop here. But this one is fancy and the prices are sky high,” remarked Sarah casually. The mood lifted quickly as Dea was modeling some high heels. A newborn giraffe was more elegant. In her defense, it was the first time in her life she wore heels. And five inch was not the ideal starter height. They soon moved on.

Next Sarah ducked into a ballet studio. “Sorry. Just for a moment. When I was little mom enrolled me here. I had six or so lessons. So not many. But sometimes I wish could go back and stay you know?”

Dea nodded. “Take your time.”

Sarah walked around and took it all in. Lost in whatever memories she had. Then she spotted a knowledge card behind the counter.
“Hey, Dea look. ‘Dancers grace (woman)’. Even gives plus one DEX. Whatever that means.”

“It’s an abbreviation of dexterity. In role-playing games, it helps to decide how good a character is at handling certain things.”

“Well, in that case, this is for you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because while you modeled those high heels you showed neither. Dexterity or grace.”

Dea gave her the evil eye but soon had to join Sarah’s chuckling. “Okay okay. Give it to me.” Dea activated the card and a few credits vanished as well as the card.

“Let’s go to the next shop. You walk ahead. I wanna see your new graciousness.”

Dea rolled her eyes but complied. Walking along she asked:”So where to next? And I don’t think that card worked.”

Sarah behind her meanwhile couldn’t hide her amazement. Dea’s walking before had been terrible. Like a man in a woman’s body. Now, however, she sauntered along. Each step was effortlessly nimble. She didn’t just walk like a woman. She moved through the street like she performed a slow sensual dance. Each step, a choreographed statement.

“You really feel no difference to your usual walking?” Sarah had to know.

“No. Why? Do you see one?”

“Well, I think you walk slightly better. Instead of a drunk man's gait, you are only tipsy.” lied Sarah.

Dea was laughing. Had she looked back the laugh would have frozen seeing Sarah's very mischievous grin.

“Okay, there we go next. I have an idea.”

Dea looked flabbergasted.
“The makeup store?”

“Exactly!”

As they entered Dea was looking around as if poisonous snakes might jump her from everywhere. Sarah, however, walked directly to the counter.
“Aha! Found it.”

Triumphantly she held up a knowledge card. Dea walked slowly over. She knew something was up. Sarah gave her a smile. “You told me you have a crush on me right? Well, now that I spend some time with you I can say I like you. But I am only the copy. You need a way to the original. And I have a solution. Quick tell me how many guys do you know that know how to use makeup?”

Dea looked confused.”None really.”

“Because guys don’t wear makeup, right? Unless they’re into a subculture that warrants it. So it would be a rarity to have a normal guy like you to be a master at applying cosmetics. You know I work on some after-school clubs, right? On Wednesdays, I help the drama club. There the girl that used to do our makeup quit. If you would come and volunteer you could spend time with me, the original me, and impress her. But you need this card here. Interested?”

That was a lot to stomach. It made Dea feel conflicted. Should she use information gained here in the normal world?
“Wouldn’t that be cheating?”

Sarah gave her a genuine smile.
“Well no. It’s not like I or rather my original would jump into bed with you. It’s just a little help. Come on. Can’t hurt right?”
Grumbling Dea took the card and activated it. A lot of their credits vanished.

“Ok, now we need to test it.”

“Test what?”

“If it worked. Okay, let’s try this. Use anything in this shop to make a makeup for an evening out. If it’s bad I won’t laugh. And no one will ever know.”

Dea rolled her eyes.
“Fine”.
She sauntered along the shelves and took some things out. To Sarah, it looked completely random. Then Dea flopped down in front of a vanity and started applying. Before Sarah knew what was happening Dea had concealer and foundation on her. She certainly was faster than Sarah ever was. After the basics were done Dea continued with her eyes. Sarah saw that she was going for a smoky yet sophisticated looked. The end result was sheer magic. She somehow had incorporated some warm tones that made her blue eyes stand out more. Yet those colors didn’t dominate. Sarah could see some glitter in the eyeshadow. Just enough as an accent and not as a feature. While Sarah still was lost marveling at the eyes Dea had started on her mouth. She had them expertly contoured and was applying a lipstick. Not a bright but rather a muted red. The whole makeup harmonized with her dark hair.

“Do I pass?”

Sarah needed a moment to find her words.
”Pass? With flying colors, I would say. So it works. Off to the next shop.”

“What? No, I can’t yet.”
Dea waved around her face.

“Okay. Take your time.”

Before Dea did remove her make-up she eyed the loot or rather the credits. Buying the knowledge card had nearly consumed every credit they had left.
“Hey, Sarah how about this. I am in the mood for clobbering some more mobs. And then we shop some more with the credits we get.”

Sarah gave a grin.
“Sounds good.”

Dea walked back to the vanity. “This might take a while. Why don’t you go ahead and I catch up?”

Sarah grabbed her stuff and wanted to head out. Then she had an idea. She looked if Dea was distracted and quickly slipped something in one of Dea’s shopping bags.

Heading out she didn’t have to look long for a mob. While the shops were safe the floors weren’t and here and there a mall-rat shuffled around. Every time Sarah saw one she had to giggle.

The mall-rats were young women. Punks with a rat theme. Most wore leather jackets with fake fur sewed onto them and a fake rubber tail. Overall funny looking they still had some sexiness to them. If she could send her original one message then it would probably be to go costumed as a sexy mall-rat on this year's Halloween. She was hitting the third rat with a pink baseball bat, earlier loot when Dea joined the fray. After their victory, Sarah saw something that greatly amused her. Indeed Dea had removed the make-up. But instead of going bare, she was sporting a light casual one.

“What? Why are you staring at me with that goofy smile?”

“Oh, nothing.” Sarah lied. Mentally she thought:”Yes. Strike two.”

After a few dozen mobs they continued on their shopping spree. In a department store, Sarah could argue in favor of knowledge cards for cooking and basic “dressing for woman”. Afterward, she noticed it was a lot easier to get Dea to try on some more feminine clothes. She even picked some herself.

Paved by her previous win Sarah had to only slightly drag and threaten Dea to visit the local Victoria's Secret. Pouting Dea proclaimed:”Okay fine. Five sets. Not one more.”

But Sarah had other ideas:”How about three sets but in exchange you have to use one knowledge card. Without seeing what the card does. Deal?”

Dea was chewing on her lower lip. She carefully weighed her options. “Fine. But I can veto five outfits that I think are too risky.”

“And with that, we have a deal.” grinned Sarah and skipped over to the counter to look for cards. Dea meanwhile looked for sets that might be more on the tame side yet might satisfy Sarah. She had found a powder blue bra and panty set and one in dark red when she noticed Sarah sitting on the counter with two cards in her hands. “The deal was for one card remember?”

“I know. It’s just that I can’t decide. Both are intriguing and fairly cheap.”

Dea rolled her eyes. She walked over to Sarah and grabbed both cards.

“Hey, no peeking!” Sarah was quick to shout out.

Dea didn’t. Instead, she used both cards.
“You happy now? Can we get the show on the road now so I can get out of here?”

Sarah gave her a sweet smile. “Sure. And yes. You have no idea how happy you just made me.”

Sarah gave Dea a quick kiss on the cheek and dragged her to the changing booth. Even with only them in the world, she insisted on using the booths. Sarah meanwhile wondered if Dea would have agreed to the cards if she had known what they were about. She didn’t know what she wanted to see more. The effects of ‘innocent but flirty subconscious gestures and movements’ or ‘poses to make the most out of your sexy underwear’.

Meanwhile, Dea was donning her first set: the powder blue bra and panties. She couldn’t help to model it a little to herself. After she tried a few poses, a shout from Sarah broke her concentration:”Hey how long does it take in there? I know you were a guy but putting on a bra and panties shouldn’t take more than 2 minutes. Definitely less than five.”

Dea blushed. Had she really been lost so much in her modeling? She quickly exited. On Sarah’s pushing, she did strike a few poses there too. Then Sarah actually had to remind her to try another one. After trying on the red set she was tempted to model a bit to herself again. But a part of herself was reminded how good it felt to pose in front of Sarah. She quickly stepped out. Sarah clapped and whistled as Dea posed some more. Then Sarah handed her another set and Dea hurried to change into it. Not noticing that she only closed the curtain half ways till she turned around.

Shrugging she stepped out and modeled more. Soon Sarah handed her another set. As Dea stepped into the changing booth she felt a naughty thought. This time, she closed the curtain just enough to tease. Seeing Sarah in the mirror peeking she did her best to flash but not to show. A sudden revelation, that she had so much fun posing, made her stop for a moment. Then she shrugged again and continued. After all, there were so many sexy Dessous to try and so little time.

***** Chapter 7 *****

In the end, it was Sarah who had to drag Dea out of the shop. As the sun was setting they slowly left the mall and headed home. Dea was walking behind. With so many shopping bags in her hands, she made slow progress. Sarah meanwhile played bodyguard. She was running around slaying mobs left and right, no matter if they posed a threat or not.

To Dea, she looked happy, but she thought it was just to distract herself. Dea knew she couldn’t stay here in this world. Sarah knew it too. And when Dea will leave this world the copy of Sarah will vanish. She wondered if Sarah would beg her to stay a bit longer. A day? A week? Month? Years?

Already Dea played conversation after conversation through her mind. It made her only more depressed. When she saw her house ahead, tears were streaming down her cheeks. With a heavy voice, she said towards Sarah’s back:”I am sorry Sarah.”

Before she could turn around Dea quickly said the exit phrase:”Exit super battle world.” The lights came and went. She looked around but no one saw her. Quickly she hurried to her house, then to her bed and cried herself to sleep.

***** Chapter 8 *****

She heard an “I am sorry Sarah.” and an “Exit super battle world.” Sarah turned around and saw Dea surrounded by a swirl of light. The tears on her face were the last detail she made out before the light vanished.

Now she was alone. She knew what was supposed to happen. The world would reset and then she would vanish. Yet she was still here. She waited with dread but still nothing. A traitorous hope filled her. Maybe the world wouldn’t reset. Maybe. But if the world remained she would be alone. Looking at the sky she saw no answer. Only the slowly setting sun. It was summer so she guessed she still had one or two hours of light.

What to do? Wait? That wasn’t her style. She moved onward. Her house was close so that was a logical destination. As she opened the front door she saw the house empty. No furniture. No carpet. She flicked the light switch but nothing happened. Then she remembered what Dea had told her. No private items were copied. It looks like that rule was more than strict.

She wondered what to do. Then she had it. Maybe it was idiotic but she headed back to the mall. By the time she arrived again it was getting dark. Of course, the mall itself had no light either. Still, Sarah moved on. As luck would have it she found a flashlight for sale at a newspaper stand. Then she ventured in deeper. The skylights over the main walkway were barely spending any light and her flashlight only illuminated a small area.

Sarah decided that it was definitely creepy. “My own little zombie apocalypse. Just with catgirls and mall rats instead of zombies.” she thought.

In any case, her watching of zombie movies helped her now. She knew what she needed: food, water, and shelter. The first two were easy to find. The food court was close by. Then came shelter. She knew that shops were safe. So plenty to choose from. Then she remembered a department store. Wasn’t there a display she could use?

She headed quickly there, avoiding the shuffling mobs as best as she could. A few times her movement limit blocked her and a mob came close enough to trigger a battle. Fighting in near darkness was harder and a lot more frightening. Then she was through the door of the store. Safe. At least for now. She headed deeper into the store.

There was the display she was looking for. A big bed advertised a new line of bed sheets, pillows, and blankets. Stripping to undies felt strange. Even knowing she was alone. Then she slipped beneath the sheets. Slowly she drifted off to sleep. Her last thought was: “Will I even wake up tomorrow?”

Indeed she woke up. Throwing the blanket off she noticed she was still at the department store. The whole day yesterday hadn’t been some weird dream. She didn’t know what she was supposed to feel. Happy because she was still alive? Sad because she was still trapped in a world that was doomed?

She slipped out of the bed and dressed. Then she decided to explore. Outside she saw the sun was up. Maybe ten am or a little later. She was unsure where to go next but settled on the park. It was, after all, a sunny day. Of course, the mobs were there too. She met also a few new ones. Dog girls hunted in packs. Some girls with wings instead of arms reminded her of pigeons. It was when she met slime-girls that she paused.

Something was banging in her mind to be let out. Were slime-girls a stronger form? Come to think of it, she noticed something else. She hadn’t seen a normal slime since Dea had left. Had they may be replaced? She knew she had to check. Thinking of an area where most likely slimes were to find she headed back to her home. Yet even when she was close only slime-girls were around. Other monsters got fewer and even catgirls were rare.

She was nodding to herself. Slime-girls indeed replaced normal slimes. But why? She remembered back to what Dea had said. Monsters were created by players. But with Dea gone, there were no more players. Who’s subconscious was the world pilfering? All the sexy mobs hinted at the truth the whole time. Sarah had one thing kept secret from Dea. Not just her. From all her friends. She was a lesbian. And all those oversexed mobs were not Dea’s creation. It was hers.

But she wasn’t a player, right? Unless Dea had messed up. She did so once before. If she was right had she all the rights and privileges a player had? She had to find out. With a trembling voice, she said:”Exit super battle world.”

Light swirled around her, blinding her for a moment. When she could see again she was still on the street. No one was around. But then she noticed the cars parked on the sidewalk. Noticed the absence of the lines of the movement grid. She had escaped. She was free. Tears of joy filled her eyes. When she finally calmed down she had to know. She had to find out just how much Dea had screwed up. Was she really a copy or was she maybe the original? Only one way to find out. She walked home.

She opened the front door as slowly and quietly as she could. It didn’t help. Suddenly it was yanked open by her father. He looked pissed and drunk. Not a good combination in Sarah’s opinion. “Where have you been? Your work called. You didn’t show up. Then you stayed the whole night away. Probably partying with some friends. And then you try to sneak in?”

He lamented on and on. Sarah barely listened. No one at her workplace meant there was no other Sarah. She was the original. Dea had screwed up another time. She had to work very hard to not smile or grin.

***** Chapter 8 *****

Dea woke up. Still a girl. Still a murderer. At least that was what she thought. It took a while before she found the will to even get out of bed. It was hunger that did the deed.

Slipping out of bed she noticed her crumpled clothes from yesterday. Lethargic she headed over to the many shopping bags. Hunting for something to wear, she found something else. New tears broke away from her eyes as she pulled out a big makeup kit. It must have been Sarah who had slipped it into her bags. Devastated she needed another few minutes till she could move on.

She ignored the sexy lingerie. Without Sarah what was the point? Instead, some plain bra and panties had to do. Slacks, a skirt, and a top followed. She had to fight tears back again as she noticed that not one pair of pants could be found in her bags. Yet another reminder of Sarah.

Going to the bathroom confronted her with the ghastly reflection of her face. Her make-up was in ruins and her eyes puffy. She wiped it all away. Then came food. No matter her mood her body told her loud and clear she was starving. At least it felt that way. While she munched on the last remains of her defrosted pizza she looked on the clock. Still, a few hours till her parents returned. She flopped down in front of the tv and hoped that it would numb her brain for a while.

She must have fallen asleep as the sound of keys in the door lock woke her up. Then the rumble of when her parent's luggage was heaved inside.

“Darrel?” came the shout from her mom.

Time to face the music. With lowered head, she walked over. The next thing she heard, was a squeal and a tight hug from her mother. “Oh my gosh, you look better than I imagined.”

“Urg mom. I still need air.”
She let Dea go and inspected her all over while Dea awkwardly shuffled on the spot.

“Hey dad.” she finally managed to say.

“Hey, yourself. How are you doing?”

Dea motioned with her hand, indicating her whole body.

“Ha! Okay, fair enough.”

Meanwhile, her mother scrutinized her outfit.
“Already wearing skirts? So the big strides it is. Like mother like daughter, right? So did you already have boys over?”

Dea groaned and threw her hands up. She knew stuff like that would be coming from her mother. Still, it caught her unprepared every time. She stomped over to the kitchen. After a few moments, her parents joined her.

“Okay spill young lady.” came from her mother.

Dea told them everything. Well, nearly everything. While she told them about the summoning system she didn’t tell how much she messed up there. She didn’t tell them how much it did hurt to leave Sarah behind. She also omitted how all mobs were cut out of porn video or at least looked like it.

Finally, she was done and her mother had to make sure she heard right.
“So it is Dea for now?”

“Well yes. Actually, I hope for not much longer. Did you find a way to give me my old body back?”

Her parents looked at each other. Definitely not a good sign she decided. Her mother looked her in the eyes.
”Several actually. But your father and I decided that it would be best if we don’t help.”

Dea gave her mother an accusing look.
“What?!”

Her father quickly intervened.
“It was my idea. Yes, your mother always wanted a daughter and so on and so forth. But that is not the reason. I raised you to always act responsibly. To admit your mistakes and fix them yourself if possible. Look, every dimension mage screws up the first time. You can’t run to us every time you do. Your mother and I think it is best you try for a while yourself before we help.”

Dea was flabbergasted. Her mind raced to find arguments.
“”What about school? Summer break is over. They expect me there.”

But her mother was expecting it.
”Your father will bring you to school tomorrow. He will explain to the principal that your aunt Irma is sick and you went to help her.”

“But I don’t have an aunt Irma.”

Her mother chuckled.
“True. But the principal doesn’t know it. Now listen. Since your aunt lives in a very small apartment there is not enough space for two children around. So we, your father and I, are taking her daughter Dea in.”

Dea gave them an accusing dirty look.
“You thought of everything right?”

Her mother grinned and her father nodded. Just when Dea wanted to start again the doorbell rang. “Dea, my dear. Why don’t you look who it is? Your father and I are really tired from our traveling.”

Grumbling to herself she complied.

***** Chapter 9 *****

Sarah was so done arguing with her father. After they shouted at each other for a while she had stomped up to her room. It became quickly evident enough why he really was angry with her. It was not because she was away overnight or that she missed her work. It was the missing money. She was only allowed to work there anyways as long as fifty percent of it went to her father. To help out with rent and food he said. Sarah knew it was bullshit. It was for more beer. The last thing she heard was him yelling that she was grounded. Nothing new to her.

For a few hours, she spent surfing on her crappy old laptop. Living for a day in an RPG world caught her curiosity. She researched everything about it. After a few hours, the slamming of car doors broke her concentration. Looking out of her window she saw Dea’s parents coming home.

“So much for Dea staying. I guess Darrel will be back soon.” she thought.

But somehow she didn’t want to give up on Dea. She had to do something. But for that, she had to go over. Sneaking past her father might not be a good idea. Especially when he was close to being sober. An alternative presented itself quickly. She could go into the battle world, move outside, and then exit it again. But was she ready for it? Last time she thought she would die there. But then again she thought she was a copy. She decided that her fear won’t control her and uttered the words to change worlds.

When the lights vanished she was still in her room. And all her belongings too. But as she peeked outside she saw the rest of her house empty. On the border to her room, there was floating slightly transparent writing:”Protected spawn area - Sarah”.

Mentally sorting this tidbit away she hurried downstairs and out. She moved behind the tool-shed of her father. A rusty mess of wood and nails. She hoped she was out of sight and exited the world. The walk past the windows and to the street took some stealth but she managed. Then she rang the doorbell of Dea’s house.

It took a moment, but Dea opened the door. She really was as beautiful as Sarah remembered. Now it was the time to make her move:”Hi. I am your neighbor Sarah. I saw you around today and I thought I come by.”

Dea looked a bit awkward and uncomfortable but found her voice a moment later:”Yeah. Uhm hi. I am Dea. Darrell's cousin. I think I’ll be staying here for a while.”

Hearing that Sarah wanted to jump in the air. Hug her. Sing a song in praise. But she did none of that. Her poker face held. Barely. “Well then welcome to the neighborhood I guess. Will you be attending school too?”

“Yeah, I guess.” came the answer.

Sarah could barely hear it. She was distracted. Dea was scratching the back of her head in a way that lifted her blouse just in the right way to flash Sarah with part of her breast and bra. She didn’t even notice what she was doing. Realization struck Sarah. One of the knowledge cards was still working.

Suddenly she heard Dea’s mother shout:”Hey is that you Sarah?” A moment later Dea’s mom arrived at the door.

“Yeah. I just came to say hi. And maybe offer my help. Dea told me she is new around here. I wouldn’t mind showing her around.”

Still ignoring her daughter Dea’s mother continued.
”Oh, that’s lovely. Could you start right now? Dea hasn’t unpacked and she could use a helping hand.”

Dea gave a weak “It’s okay. I’ll manage,” but Sarah, of course, grabbed at the chance.

“Sure. Don't have something better to do anyway.”

A moment later both of them were in Darrell's room. “Oh, my gosh, your cousin could have tidied his room a bit before leaving it for you.”

Sarah didn’t get more than an awkward nod out of Dea. Something was wrong. She acted more muted than yesterday. Then it came to her. Of course, Dea still thought she had killed her. Or rather a copy of her. Sarah was tempted to tell her that she was still alive. But something held her up. She didn’t know why yet but she wasn’t ready to disclose what fate had befallen her.

Then she had an idea. She could mix it a bit. The real facts with fiction.

“Listen, Dea. There is another reason why I came over. I saw you from my room and I had the strangest feeling of deja vu. Like I have met you before. And I know it sounds crazy but I had this strange dream …”

Sarah acted as if she was unsure if she should continue and as if ordered to Dea took the bait.
”What dream?”

Sarah paced a bit through the room but told her.
”Don’t laugh at me ok? Yesterday when I came back from work I did fall asleep early. I had this strangest dream of myself being, with a girl, at the mall shopping. But we were alone I think. It’s a bit hazy and I can’t remember details but I think I had fun. And the weird thing is you look like the girl from my dream.”

Looking over to Dea Sarah saw a range of emotions flickering across her face. Shock and then relief was the most obvious. “Yeah sounds strange.” Dea agreed.

Looking around Sarah saw besides a typical boy's room a few shopping bags. The same bags she helped fill yesterday. She couldn’t help but ask.
“What’s up with the shopping bags?”

Caught off guard Dea needed a moment. “Oh, my bags were mixed up at the airport and got sent elsewhere. They should arrive here tomorrow. But meanwhile, I needed some essentials.”

“Essentials you say?” asked Sarah as she lifted the Victoria's Secret bag up. That got her a blush and a small laugh from Dea. Looking further around she spotted the makeup kit she had slipped yesterday into Dea’s bags.
“Wow, this looks professional. You got some skills there?”

Sarah noticed at once she made a mistake. Dea was looking sad again. Worse. She could see tears in her eyes.
“What’s wrong?”

Dea needed a moment to collect herself. “It’s .. I recently lost a friend. A dear friend. She told me that I had talent and I sorta promised her to give it a more thorough try.”

Sarah nodded.
“So you got it to honor her right?”

Dea was nodding.

“Well, in that case, I have an idea. I help out at the school's drama club and our last makeup artist quit. If your friend was right and you are gifted we could use your help. What do you say?”

“Well, actually my friend suggested something similar.”

“Good. But first, I have to test your skill? How about we break in your kit?”

Dea hesitated but then agreed. However, instead of seeing Dea work her magic on herself she instead was seated down. Not that she minded. It actually felt nice being close to Dea as she worked on her. Feeling her soft touch on her skin. Watching all the small minuscule movements of her face as she worked in concentration. Sarah was in heaven for a moment. Gone too soon as Dea was working too fast. Then she was dragged into the bathroom so she could see herself. She had to admit to herself Dea was a miracle worker.

“I have to run it past by the others but you have my vote for sure.”

Before it got too late she helped Dea to pack up most of Darrell's stuff and move in hers. Then she had to say goodbye. At least for tonight. Sneaking into her house via battle world was even easier this time. Then she was watched Dea a bit through her window. As their rooms were nearly parallel to each other it was rather easy. She was happy that Dea was to stay for a while. She wished for her to stay forever. But she knew that Darrell wanted to be back. In all honesty, she had to admit Darrel was nice but with a male body, he had never a chance with her. As Dea however, it would work. More than that. Sarah had already shaped Dea more to her liking. More to be her perfect girlfriend. She knew it was wrong but spending the little time with her just now gave Sarah the push. She wanted Dea. More than anything. And she would do whatever it takes. Use every advantage she could think of. She would seduce Dea. Not just so she would fall for her, but also fall in love with being a girl.

Still watching Dea she spoke to herself.
“Sorry, Darrel. Looks like our stories aren’t mixing. You are the villain in my love story with Dea. So I hope you don’t mind that I’ll be your villain in your quest to become a boy again.”

Of course, Dea didn’t hear her. Sarah watched as Dea killed her rooms light. Time for her to head to bed too. It looked like she will be very busy the next few weeks.

*****

To be continued?

The ringing of the bell made Alexis jerk awake. For a moment, he chided himself. Falling asleep at the register again. Thankfully, his Aunt hadn't caught him dozing off. At least, this time.

"Welcome to Bibliophilia, how can I-"

Alexis broke off. It was just Bernard. Their local postman. Sometimes, Alexis wondered if anyone aside from Bernard, Alexis, or his Aunt would step through that door.

"Hey, Alexis. You look like you had a nice nap."

"Shut up." Alexis gave him a meaningful look that underlined his words. "I am already in the bad graces of my Aunt. If she hears you- "Alexis shook his head. "What do you got?"

"A whole bunch of letters for you and one parcel for the shop."

Alexis grunted as he was handed the stack. The letters were heavier than the parcel. All with a sender from a university. He dreaded what was written in them.

"Thanks, Bernard," Alexis said after signing for the parcel. "See you tomorrow. Probably."

"Probably," Bernard agreed. "Don't worry. One of them will pan out. Keep your head up."

A wave for goodbye and the ringing of a doorbell later, Alexis turned towards the stack of letters. Time to get it over with. Grabbing a letter opener from beside the registry, Alexis sliced open the first envelope.

"Dear Alexis Skarlatos, we regretfully inform you-"

Alexis broke off reading aloud and fed the letter to the paper shredder. The little device worked overtime since Alexis started to work for his aunt. One by one, Alexis fed the little guy more letters. Every letter that turned his application down.

Halfway through, Alexis stopped. It was hopeless. His mood was utterly crushed. He couldn't figure out why. His marks hadn't been bad. He barely had missed becoming valedictorian at his high school. Looking up, he took in the dingy bookshop his Aunt called her own. It looked depressing too. As if a normal bookshop had been drained of its color. Of course, most of the books were old. Ancient. Bound in leather, their spines were all shades of brown. To top it off, Alexis could see a thick layer of dust laying on shelves and books alike. Even though he had dusted just last week. This was his reality until one letter finally said yes.

His eyes fell on the parcel. It was probably a book. Sometimes his Aunt received a new one. They came from all over the world. This one, if he perceived it right, came from Lichtenstein. Which, if he remembered right, was a small country in Europe. Suddenly, he got curious. What book would it be this time? Grabbing the letter opener again, Alexis posed to slice open the parcel.

His Aunt had forbidden him to open any parcels. Why? He had no idea. Well, maybe he could open it just a bit. Catch a glimpse of the contents. He could later say the parcel had been damaged being shipped around the world. Carefully, he sliced into the parcel. That was curious. There was a book in there. But contrary to all others of this book store, this one had a spine of pastel pink leather. Strange. Alexis could swear the book glowed slightly.

"Was that Bernard?"

Alexis dropped the parcel and looked up. There, on the stairs to the second and elevated part of the bookstore, his Aunt stood. Kalypso Loverdou looked impeccable and stylish as always. Not at all like an owner of a frumpy bookstore like this one.

"Yes."

"Anything for me? I am awaiting a parcel."

His eyes shot down to the parcel. It was hidden from view in the small booth that served as space for the salesperson and the cash register. The cut was clearly visible as artificial and not like transport damage at all. He needed time to fix that. To mask the evidence of his curiosity.

"No, Aunt Kalypso. Just letters for me again. Going through them right now."

"Ah. Don't worry. I am sure one of them will make you happy. Only a matter of time. Until then, enjoy your time here. Your mother did. I remember her working here for a year too when she was your age."

Alexis bit his tongue. How could one enjoy working in this dump of a bookshop? And had his mother worked here? He doubted it. Alexis knew that his mother was forty-two and his best guess was that Aunt Kalypso was around thirty-five. The math didn't work out. Because he remembered his mother saying that his Aunt opened the shop quite recently.

"Yeah. One of them has to work out," he said out loud. But looking up, Alexis saw that he had spoken to thin air. His aunt had already left the salesroom again and vanished into the back office.

Once again, Alexis focused on the parcel and the strange book within. It wasn't glowing anymore. Quickly chiding himself. Books don't glow. He must have imagined it or it had been a trick of the light from outside. Maybe a reflection of the window front on the other side of the street.

The ringing of the bell over the door made Alexis look up in confusion. Had Bernard forgotten to deliver something and came back? To his surprise, in the doorway didn't stand the middle-aged postman Alexis saw every day. Instead, there was a teenage girl. Dressed in a cheerleading uniform no less. Even stranger was the fact that Alexis couldn't place it. It wasn't a cheerleading uniform from any school in the surrounding area.

With a bright smile, the teenager walked over to Alexis. She had a certain preppiness in her step. And maybe a yearbook under her arm? Alexis was confused as heck. She was the third customer since he had started working here and both of the first two had been middle-aged academics. The blue-eyed blonde magically drew in Alexis' gaze.

"This is Kalypso Loverdou's shop, right? Is she in?"

Shaking off his confusion, Alexis pointed to the back office. "Yes, she is. I can get her if you tell me your-"

A bright light flashed and made Alexis turn away. Followed by a crashing sound of splintering wood and breaking glass. When Alexis collected himself, he saw the teenager had fallen against the entrance door. Or rather she had impacted there. Alexis could see the wooden door frame had burst and splintered and the window glass had spiderwebs of fractures all around. Still, it all held in place. As if someone had done a shoddy job of fixing it all with super glue.

"You are not welcome here, Margrit."

The voice belonged to Alexis' Aunt but sounded like he had heard never before. Hard and full of malice. Once again, she was standing on the stairs leading to the upper portion of the shop. This time holding an open book in her right hand.

"I go by Mary now," the teenager replied while pushing herself up. She dusted herself off debris as if nothing special had happened. "And really, Kalypso, is this how you act around your elders?"

Both women twitched into action and two flashes of light blinded Alexis again. He was thrown back and onto the floor as something exploded right in the middle of the room. Around him, shelves started to topple and shredded books were thrown all around. Thankfully, he was mostly protected behind the sales booth. At least he thought so until the old cash register impacted beside him. That ancient piece was still made of cast iron. University rejection letters rained down on him. Not needing the paper shredder anymore as they were already torn apart. Right beside his head and close to his hand the parcel fell. Was it glowing again?

With his heart beating a mile a minute, Alexis scooted to the booth. Seeking safety behind the heavy old wood it was made of. More explosions were sending shockwaves through the store. Making him twitch with each and every one of them. What the hell was going on? Alexis had no clue. The world didn't make a lick of sense anymore.

At last, the shop fell silent, so Alexis risked a glance over the booth. His Aunt, Kalypso, had retreated to the upper portion of the shop. Being elevated half a floor to the lower portion. There, she stood panting. Her hair tousled and her clothes were partly torn. In front of her, there was a half-sphere of something. Like a shield, but translucent.

Her opponent, Mary or Margrit, stood in a corner. Between the entrance and a row of massive bookshelves that now had toppled over. Behind a similar translucent glimmering, she smiled. For she barely looked scratched. Despite having crashed into the storefront and standing in the middle of a devastating book store, she only had a few splinters of wood and glass shards peppering her cheerleading uniform to show for it. It was clear that Mary had the upper hand.

Then Alexis noticed the books both women were holding. They glowed. Just like the one in the parcel. Were they magic? Alexis wanted to dismiss the notion. Magic wasn't real. But the destruction around him spoke of another truth.

"Come on, Kalypso. You know you can't beat me," Mary said with a sneer and gruel smirk. "We both know you were born a few centuries too late for that. Hand over Heartbreaker and we call it a day."

"I don't have it," Kalypso shouted back. Scattering a few droplets of blood around her. The few that escaped her mouth, she swiped away. "It didn't arrive yet."

Alexis' eyes turned back towards the parcel. To the pink book that poked out of the cut, he had made earlier. Was Mary after it? With trembling hands, Alexis reached for it. Now, it felt heavier than before. Or did he just imagine it?

"Bullshit! I know it is here!"

With trembling hands, Alexis tore away the rest of the parcel. Until he held the book in his grasp. The spine and cover were in the dyed pink leather he had seen before. New was the title in gold lettering. It was written in a language that he didn't know. At least, for now. Before his very eyes, the words blurred. Until they settled again and proudly proclaimed: Heartbreaker.

"I swear it is the truth." His aunt sounded desperate. "It was supposed to arrive, but it didn't yet."

Unbidden and all by itself, the book Heartbreaker opened in Alexis' grasp. Page by page turned itself until it reached the middle of the book. There, strange letters were written in blood-red ink. None of them Alexis could read. In fact, he couldn't even recognize what language they originated from. But despite that, he knew they were spells. One of them spoke to him. Urged him to use it.

A sudden calmness overcame Alexis. Gone was the fear he felt a moment before. Grasping the book tight, Alexis stood up. Two sets of eyes turned towards him. Then gazed at the book in his hand. Too late. Alexis had raised his free hand and pointed towards Mary. Strange words escaped his lips. The meaning eluded him. In fact, he didn't even know his vocal cord could produce such strange sounds.

A bright deep red ball of light materialized over his free hand. Just for a split second, it hovered there. Then raced as a bolt of fury towards Mary. Narrowly missing her translucent shield and slamming into her. Flinging her into the wall behind. A web of cracks split the stucco where the woman impacted. So deep that Alexis could see the broken bricks underneath.

Despite everything, Mary wasn't beaten. Shaken and hurt? Sure. But not willing to give up. A wry laugh escaped her. "For a moment, Kalypso, I believed you. But there it is." She took a step towards Alexis. Then another. "Heartbreaker. And you brought backup. That, I didn't expect."

"Oh, shut up," Kalypso hissed. Conjuring a green ball of energy in her free hand.

Mary reacted, but too late. The magic impacted just a step before her. Vines and roots quelled forth. With nasty looking thorns of deep red. They all lunged for Mary who retreated back. But not far as there was a wall at her back. There, the magical plant found her. Enveloped and buried her beneath. Alexis could see blood well forth as thorns broke the skin. Mary screamed in agony. But only for a second. Then she fell silent.

Alexis tore her gaze off from Mary. Now hardly to be seen under the magical plant. "D-did you kill her."

"Hardly. She's sleeping. For a century or two. Depends how many thorns bit into her." Kalypso took two deep breaths to look at her beaten foe. Then turned towards Alexis. Before he could react, she had a second green ball of magic in her hand. "Not that I don't value the help, but who the fuck are you?"

Frowning, Alexis took a step back. Only to run into a bookshelf. This shop definitely was too small for retreats. Or battles in general. "It's me, Aunt Kalypso. Alexis."

For a moment, Kalypso regarded him with curiosity. As if she was seeing him for the first time. At last, she made up her mind. "Interesting. Prove it. Stretch your t-shirt so I can see the print on it."

It was a strange request. Its print should be visible without help. Maybe there was dirt or debris on it. Alexis moved his free hand to obey. Only to be confused. His shirt indeed sat strangely on his frame. Alexis broke eye contact with his aunt to glance below. Only for his gaze to be riveted by the view. That wasn't right. His t-shirt sat as if-

Slowly, he grabbed for the collar of his shirt and peeked beneath. "Those are breasts." Was that a question or a statement? Alexis couldn't tell himself. Now, other details registered with his brain. The strands of hair falling into his face. The strangely high pitch in his voice. Not to mention that the feel of his pants was all wrong. Loose around most of his legs, but tight around butt and hips. There was no mistaking it. Shocked he looked to his Aunt. "I am a girl. When did that happen?"

A second passed. Then a few more. Eventually, Kalypso dismissed the sphere of magic in her grasp. A sigh escaped her before closing her book and placing it under her arm.

"My guess, the moment you opened Heartbreaker. It's alright. Give it to me."

Alexis needed a moment to parse her request. Give her Heartbreaker? Only now did he remember that he still held the pink book. In fact, his fingers' skin turned white under the pressure with which he held it. It took him an immeasurable amount of will to let off, close the book, and hand it over.

"I can't be a girl," Alexis said into the room. Looking a bit forlorn. "That isn't possible."

"It is." Kalypso gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Magic makes it possible. Don't worry. You will turn back tomorrow."

"I am not stuck?" Alexis turned towards his Aunt. "This isn't forever?"

"No. You are what we call a Trail-Witch. I think we need to have a talk. A long one." She gave him a squeeze of the shoulder. "But not here. It isn't safe anymore. Follow me."

Without waiting for a reply, Kalypso turned around. Walking towards the upper portion of the shop. Alexis automatically followed but stopped after three steps up the stairs. About halfway. Looking back at the chaos around him. The shop had been turned into a warzone. Of the many bookshelves, only two stood still upright. Hundreds of books lay thrown around. Torn to shreds and pieces. And in a corner, a thicket of vines and roots had taken real estate. Hiding beneath a woman in a deep slumber.

"Right. Guess I could tidy up a bit."

Alexis turned around to see his Aunt intoned strange words. Similar to the ones he had spoken himself not long ago. No light flared up this time, but the very bookshop came alive around them. As Alexis looked around, bookshelves righted themselves. Their splintered wood flying back in place and fusing to them. A whirlwind of paper filled the salesroom and condensed to repaired books that flew back onto the shelves. By the time the room settled, all shelves had been repaired and each book had found its home. Even the wall, glass front, and door had fixed themselves. It was back to the shop Alexis knew. Save for one addition. A large plant in the corner. Now in a fitting ceramic planter.

"Something is missing," Kalypso mused behind Alexis. "Oh, right."

More strange words filled the room and Alexis' eyes grew wide as he saw the effect. Each surface grew a blanket of dust. Speaking of months of negligence.

"It was you!" Alexis twirled around. "I dusted the whole shop last week. It took me hours. But you magicked it all back."

His Aunt shrugged. "I didn't ask you to do that. If you had asked me before, I would have discouraged you. Now, come. We can't stay here."

She walked towards the back office but stopped short at the only wall that had been left free of shelves. At least, that had been the case. Where once had been a blank wall a door had found its place.

"Since when has that been here?"

"Since forever," Kalypso said while grabbing the handle. "It is just invisible to mundanes."

"And I am not mundane anymore?" Alexis asked as his Aunt opened the door.

"At least, for now," Kalypso said as she walked into a hallway that shouldn't be there. Its geometry intersected with the backroom office.

Following his Aunt, Alexis gaped like a tourist. The hallway was wide. At least five meters across. The floor grew marble with a black texture to it. The walls painted in a strange color between muted purple and dark grew. Exhibits lined the side. Display cases showed artifacts of the past. Some looked quite old and valuable. There were many portraits on the wall. All displaying his Aunt. But she was dressed differently in each of them. As if she had stood pose for them in decades or even centuries past.

At last, something made Alexis stop and fall behind. It was not a painting that drew his eyes. The reflection of a large mirror drew him close. And as he walked closer a girl mirrored his movements. Logically, he knew it was him. The new female form he had. But it was still strange to have a young woman mirror every move he made. And what a woman she was. Young, in the early twenties. Just like Alexis' normal age. And he could see the resemblance. His old features, but shifted towards the feminine. But where male-Alexis had been mediocre in looks, she was the epitome of beauty. The face of a model, but the body of a seductress.

"Alexis. Come. You can stare at your reflection later. It won't vanish for another twenty-three hours."

Turning away hurt. He wanted to see more of her. Even though logic told him again that she was him. Alexis had never pointed in the looks department, but now everything was different. If this hadn't been temporary, he wondered if he would have minded staying her. Even though he had never thought about becoming a woman.

They arrived at a library at last. It was the total opposite of the bookshop they just had left. Only two bookshelves dominated the room. On each shelf a single book. Framed by their own bookends. Kalypso walked to one of them and placed Heartbreaker down. As if the bookshelves knew its duty, two bookends appeared beside it.

"I guess you have many questions," she said while walking to an armchair. Offering Alexis one as well with a single gesture.

"A ton," Alexis said as he took his seat.

"Let's start at the beginning. Well, the beginning of modern times. Around one thousand and five hundred years ago."

"That doesn't sound very modern to me."

"Stop thinking technology as a measure of all things. Before science, magic reigned supreme. In ancient times, there were people born with a special talent. To shape the universe around them with thought alone. But as mankind grew older their gift weakened. Fewer were born with the talent. And those that did struggled to reach the height their forefathers achieved."

"But it didn't die out," Kalypso added after a dramatic pause. "There was a witch. One in a line of witches. She was heartbroken when she only bore a single son. And one quite mundane. She looked for a way to remedy that and she succeeded. That witch created the first Grimoire. A book that could bestow magic to its user."

"One like Heartbreaker? It's a Grimoire too, right?"

"Correct. Her invention was groundbreaking. The first Grimoire was copied. Or rather its enchantment was. In fact, the Grimoire itself was created in a way that itself could create copies."

"That doesn't explain why I am a woman now," Alexis pointed out.

"It doesn't? Think about it. That witch wanted an heir. And not any heir. All those with the gift in her family had been female. She wanted to continue that tradition."

"So, if I get that right, the first Grimoire doesn't just give magic, but also makes the user a woman," Alexis said after a moment of thinking. "And since copies of the Grimoire take over all aspects of the enchantment they retain the female gender correction."

"Quite so."

"You said I turn back after a day. If the witch wanted an heir then why make it temporary."

"It isn't," Kalypso corrected him. "At least in the way you think it is. New Grimoires are empty. The moment you write in your first spell your fate is sealed. The Grimoire and you will be connected until the day you die. But here is the thing. Grimoires become inert if their owner dies. That means all their spells become inaccessible. The words blur. They can't be read. But if someone touches a Grimoire for the first time, it revives. Just for a day. Bestowing access to all the spells for a day. Along with all the benefits."

"That's why I will turn back. Because turning into a woman is part of the benefits." For a moment, a twinge of regret shot through Alexis' heart. Seeing his altered reflection had left its mark on him. That, he couldn't deny. Somehow, even separated from Heartbreaker, he felt powerful. "And when I turn back, I will never gain access to Heartbreaker again."

"Quite so." Kalypso turned in her armchair to look at the book in question. "Which is for the best. Heartbreaker is one of the oldest books. And the name is the program. Quite powerful. Full of spells to seduce and entice mundanes. But it carries the name for a reason. Heartbreak will follow. For the victim, as for its owner."

"I must admit, its power is intoxicating. I only held it for one spell, but I long to try more. It," Alexis pointed at the book, "has me in its grasp."

Both twitched in surprise as the Grimoire in question started to rattle. Shaking and fighting against the bookends that held it in place. But not for long. It broke free and flew through the room. Like a heat-seeking missile, it aimed for Alexis. But instead of crashing into him, the Grimoire slowed down. Setting down in Alexis grasp with the delicate touch of a feather.

"Fascinating," Kalypso said while leaning forward. "Looks like Heartbreaker isn't done with you. It followed your subconscious call."

Was it alive? Sentient? Alexis studied the book in his hand. Just the thought of the spells inside made Heartseeker open itself up. Showing off the spells written within.

After a deep breath, Alexis turned back towards his Aunt. "What does that mean? That I don't turn back?"

"No." Her words had a finality to it. "It means that you are gifted. That the magic within you is strong. If you chose to become a witch, you could become quite powerful, and in a short amount of time. I have no doubt that you would surpass even me. To be honest, I wouldn't even have offered you the chance, but now- It would be a crime not to do so."

Power was at his fingertips. Not just literally, the Grimoire in his hands, but something profound waiting for him. Of course, it would mean there was a sacrifice due. "But I have to become a woman to do so. And not just for a day."

"Well, there are altered Grimoires for male witches. What? Do you think people wouldn't modify the original enchantment to their liking? Don't be naive. It is possible but very difficult." Then she leaned back and gave a deep sigh. "But to be honest, I don't have access to one of them. Without that, I couldn't supply you with a male-focused Grimoire. Yes, your choices are to become a woman and a witch or stay mundane."

Silence settled over the room while Alexis pondered his options. At least, he arrived at a decision. "Yes, I want-"

"Not so fast," Kalypso interrupted him. "You should know what you are getting into. All witches collect spells. Your Grimoire is empty at the start after all. Depending on the spells you inscribe you will gain allies. Or enemies. Even those that you trust might betray you. Because once you are dead your Grimoire is open to be accessed by others. Just like Heartbreaker. Not to mention that the whole community of witches and mages is riddled with politics. And the grudges. Believe me, no one holds a grudge like a witch."

His mind flashed back to the teenage looking girl in the bookshop. Mary or Margrit. She certainly spoke like someone who held a grudge. "Like Mary? What happened between you two?"

"That's a long story," Kalypso waved him off. "Not worth telling. You know the saying. What happened last century is no-one's business but your own."

Something Kalypso said put Alexis on edge. And as if it had read his mind, Heartbreaker paged through itself until it stopped on an attack spell. Startled, Alexis put it away. For now, he would try the diplomatic way.

"Last century. That does sound like you are older than you look."

"Didn't your mother teach you to never ask a woman's age?"

"Oh, she did," Alexis assured her. "And that isn't my question. You aren't my Aunt, right?"

Kalypso rewarded him with a nod and a smirk. "No, I am not. We are related, believe it or not. You are my grand-son. Well, grand-son removed by twenty-five to thirty generations. I look out for my offspring. Usually, it works out better than today."

With those words, she pushed out of her chair.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to the shop," Kalypso said over her shoulder. "See if I can pry Margrit's Grimoire from her fingers. It would declaw her quite nicely. You should be safe here. And it gives you time. To really think about accepting the offer or not."

As Kalypso walked back to the hallway, Alexis looked at the book in his now feminine hand. It was intoxicating in its promise for power. But not as much as the reflection he had glimpsed at not long ago.

Alexis didn't need to think about it.

He already had an answer.

-

To be continued?

Leo’s mother saw him sitting on the earth. Surrounded by pieces of pottery and uprooted flowers. She put her fists on her hips and looked with a bemused grin down. “What did my little Troublemaker do now?”

Before little Leo written words of light appeared. His chubby little hands reached out. Those lights looked pretty after all.

“No. Don’t! Not again!”

Leo woke with a start. Another nightmare. Nothing new. He shook off the last remains of his dream. He didn’t know how much of it was the dream by now and what had been real once. The only thing he knew was that this had been the day he got his title. It haunted him to this day.

“Little Troublemaker”

It wasn’t just another title. It was a linked one. Connecting the person to the surrounding magic. In Leo’s case, it leads to a fate of trouble. Either for him or those around him. As he got older the title evolved. If he wanted to or not.

He gathered his meager possessions and his bedroll. Checked if all his bandages were in place. Assured that his disguise was intact Leo, the "Legendary Troublemaker" set out to survive another day.

---

Leo had carefully selected his spot. Close to the sick beggars, but far enough to not get sick himself. He surveyed his surrounding. Trouble could wait for him everywhere. He was a magnet for it. No matter where he’d go or how much he tried to avoid it. It always found him.

Was that guard strolling in his direction? Did that merchant eye him warily? Leo tried to calm himself down. Falling prey to his own paranoia was just another way to land in a pile of trouble.

Again he checked the wooden bowl before him. A few copper pieces. Barely enough to buy a meal. His stomach grumbled even thinking about food. Today he had to eat. Yesterday he skipped it to save money.

Like every fool, he had a dream. With enough money, he could buy another linked title. That title would offset his Troublemaker title. Not by much, but even that was better than nothing.

Shuffling feet caught his suspicion. They belonged to a beggar walking past Leo. Something was wrong. Leo couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew the signs when he saw one. With haste, he put away the few copper coins and stowed his wooden bowl.

“Watch where you are walking you filthy scum,” came a loud shout.
The beggar had collided with a wealthy-looking man. Quickly apologizing the beggar rushed back to the group of the sick.
Leo’s neck hairs stood up. Time to get away.

“My purse! That beggar stole my purse!”
Leo took up speed and tried to distance himself as fast as he could without looking suspicious.

“There he is!”
Leo risked a glance behind him. The merchant pointed directly at him. Of course, he would be mistaken for the thief. Worse was the guard that heard and followed the accusation.

Leo took off and ran with all his might. He knew too well that pleading his innocence wouldn’t help. Besides, he was known in these parts for past misdeeds. Most of them misunderstandings or consequences of bad luck. Not that anyone cared. Courtesy of his title.

“Stop! In the name of the king. Stop!”
Leo rounded a corner and nearly ran into a horse. The startled beast backed away and the connected cart behind it rammed the corner of a market stall. As Leo ran past the tent broke down and buried merchant and spectators alike.

Despite the chaos, the yelling of the guard didn’t stop or fall behind. Worse. More joined in. Leo needed a way out. Off to the side, he saw a wooden ladder dangling from a fire escape balcony. Maybe he could reach it.

With a full sprint, he used some chicken cages as a ramp to launch himself into the air. His hand burned in pain as he barely managed to catch the lowest rung of the latter. He grunted as he lifted himself up.

The roof was Leo’s best bet to escape. As he climbed up one of his legs suddenly caught only air. The rung of the ladder had broken off and now flew through the air. Hitting a caravan guard on the head.

Turning around the guard mistook a bystander for the culprit. A first punch was thrown and the man stumbled into a group of young nobles. Moments later a brawl of forty men broke out.

Not that Leo cared. He was on the roof and sprinted to the next one.

“There he is! Leo the Troublemaker! Today I will catch you!”

Leo flinched while running. He knew that voice. It belonged to Ernesto. The captain of the city guard. Also known as Leo’s worst nightmare. Well, at least in this city.

He needed to get away. As long as he had the high ground he could use much of his speed. Still, the guards would keep up in the streets. Unless he found a congestion.

Luck would have it that there was a crowd around St. Claire's school for girls. Though Leo and the rest of the folks around here called it “the cult of the ladies”. It was eerie. Girls or young women enter the school and three years they emerged as beautiful ladies.

Right now another crop of young would-be students gathered there to be led in. Surrounded by family and friends, they made the street flow thicker than honey. If Leo could traverse the school's roof he would lose the guards for sure.

He adjusted his course and came closer fast. Nearly there he lost his footing. A shingle got loose and flew down. Landing in a sack of corn that burst open. A flock of pigeons was on it a second later. Leo’s curse of a title had struck again.

Not fazed by it anymore Leo stood up and continued his run over the roofs. As the street flow got thicker the yells of the guards got farther and farther away. When he reached the school’s roof he was certain to be free of pursuers.

Leo decided to catch his breath for now. Who knew when his title of Legendary Troublemaker would cause the next mischief. From high up the roof, he could see the new students. Most didn’t look special or even pretty. Yet he knew in three years they would emerge as gorgeous women. Ready to be wives, ladies, and princesses. Witchcraft he reasoned. What else might explain such change?

Distracted he nearly missed a worrisome sound. Was that cracking? Suddenly he saw splinters of wood all around him as he broke through the roof.

A few impacts later he found himself in a big room surrounded by luggage. Cursing he stood up. Of course, the roof would break. Why not? It fit perfectly into Leo’s messed-up day. Today his title clearly worked overtime.

The creaking of an opening door broke his string of curses. If he was caught it might end up badly for him. The school was for women only. Looking around he saw no other exit. He was truly stuck.

Thinking quickly he grabbed a nearby cape to hide his appearance. Sometimes deception got him out of such a sticky situation. He hoped today was one of those times.

A woman entered the chamber. Time had left its marks on her. Still, she was a beauty few women could match at their height of youth.
At once she spotted Leo cowering in a corner.

“What do we have here?” she inquired in a weathered yet melody voice.

Leo took a deep breath. His cursed title got him into this mess. It might as well get him out of it. One of the talents bestowed by it was the ability to change one's voice. Leo imagined a higher pitch than his own. Quickly and in more panic than he felt he explain.

“I am so sorry. I fell through the roof. I am nothing but a girl from the streets. I mean no harm. I heard rumors about this school for years and today my curiosity got the best of me. I beg for your forgiveness.”

“So. So. An admirer you are? Did you dream of joining this school?” the gray-haired lady inquired.

“My lady. I am nothing but a street dog. Not worthy of your presence. Below my robes I am unsightly. Bearing the hardship of my youth on my skin. Please, I beg you to let me leave in peace,” Leo pleaded.

“And who asks for it, my girl?”

“Leo...na,” came Leo’s stammering reply. It wasn’t working and slowly he lost ground to back away.

Steadily the old woman came closer.

“Leona. Well. Let me satisfy one curiosity of yours. Who is worthy of this school decides only one person. That is me. Don’t be afraid. Let me see. I am sure under your hood you are quite the beauty. Leona the Young Maiden. Don’t be afraid.”

Leo was stunned. Not because she had nearly reached him or that he could feel the wall in his back. Lines of light formed in his vision. They illuminated nothing but slowly forming letters. He had dreamed about them hundreds of times. Yet they had never been so slow to appear.

A title. He was about to be asked if we would accept another linked title. The last decade he had hunted for one and now - here of all places - he was about to get one. No matter what title and what consequence. He needed it. Without much thought, he accepted before the letters could form completely.

A sudden rush filled him. A feeling, unlike anything, ever felt. It was as if he was a hole in the ground and waterfalls all around him tried to fill him. It felt oh so strange and it made him stagger.

A strong hand grabbed and steadied him.
“Careful dear. Now let me see.”
She pushed the cloak out of Leo’s face.
“Ah. I knew it. What a pretty Young Maiden you are.”

Leo’s thoughts were in tumult. He was exposed, yet what was she saying. Dazed he looked down and saw things he never dreamed of seeing. There, beneath cloak and bandages, the mounds of young pubescent flesh peeked through. Breasts. He had breasts and who knew what else.

Unable to comprehend it all his mind chose a drastic measure. Leo fainted on the spot.

---

Leo couldn’t exactly explain how he had ended up here. In a big hall with a hundred other young women. There was no denying it. He was one of them. Or rather she was.

After coming to himself he had been dressed and ushered here. Waiting now for something to happen. The murmurs of whispers slowly ebbed away as a woman made her way to a podium on a stage. Leo knew her. It was the same old woman who had found him.

“Welcome Young Maidens,” she opened her speech. “My name is headmistress Alia and this institution has cared, taught, and trained Young Maidens like yourself for centuries. It is no random happenstance that I call you like that. If you are here, then you have received the linked title Young Maiden.”

Leo quickly checked and sure enough, he found two titles linked to him. Etched into the magic around him. Legendary Troublemaker and Young Maiden. A female title. What had he been thinking? Of course, he knew the answer too well. He hadn’t. Thinking that is. Now he was stuck as a girl. Was he now cursed twofold? Could the title even be counteracted?

“This school is built upon the foundation of the title Young Maiden and the titles that evolve from it. For decades we have explored every path to take. Every title it could evolve into. If you work hard you can reach heights in this title that others need decades for.”

Leo listened with an intensity that surprised him. It was as if she was talking to him directly. Her words beckoned him. A strong second title would weaken the first. But in order to gain its strength, he had to…

“Dedicate yourself and you will leave this school as paragons of the female gender. But, we offer more. With time we cultivated other linked titles. Work hard and you might earn the right to have one bestowed to you.”

The headmistress took a short break and let her gaze wander through the ranks of new students. “Be warned,” she finally continued. “Who you were before entering this school does not matter. Be it a beggar or noble, merchant or thief, peasant or farmer. You are all equal here. The only way to stand out is to earn it by dedication. That being said. Welcome again.”

The gray-haired lady stepped down and at once the whispers returned.

“I am Thelma,” a girl to the left said. “Who are you?”

“Leona,” came the surprisingly confident reply.

“Nice to meet you. That was a great speech, right?”

“Very. You could say it opened my eyes to a few things,” Leona said with a grin.

“She mentioned other titles. Do you want any of these?” Thelma asked.

For a moment a feral grin broke through Leona’s calm demeanor. All titles drew their strength from the same pool. The more titles and the stronger they are the less influential was her Troublemaker curse.
She didn’t know how long she could hide her first title, but she was sure that she wouldn’t stop fighting tooth and nails to remain here.

“All of them,” replied Leona. “I need all of them! I will earn them all.”

Silvio ran for his life through the narrow corridors between the stacked containers of depot forty-three of East Dallas. Heard the hounds making a ruckus behind him. Knew that they already had his scent. He glanced behind himself, but he couldn't see them yet. A good sign, because if he could see them, then he was a dead boy running.

The wall was close. His makeshift rope still hanging over the ledge. With a running jump, he caught it and climbed as fast as he dared. By the time he landed on the other side, his breathing was ragged and needles of pain poked through his lungs. Still, he couldn't stop now. It wasn't safe yet.

He forced himself into a jog - painful as it was - and darted into the sprawling slums of East Dallas. Past shelters cobbled together with trash and dirt. Cut through narrow passages and ran over faulty rotten wooden planks of equally rotten huts.

He heard the hounds and the roar of vehicles too late. Just as he crossed through a big clearing in the slums they found him. Gasping for his breath he stopped. It was no use. In moments they had him surrounded. There was no call to give up from them. Just as they would be no mercy. They would take what he had stolen and then the police would kill him. It was simple like that. Silvio had seen it a hundred times before. All that was left was to close his eyes and hope his death would be without much pain.

"Shit. That maniac again!"

The shouting and a string of curses made Silvio's eyes snap open. Just in time to see a young woman in torn clothes run onto the square with a howling battle-cry born in madness.

He saw the police sling their rifles and pulling batons out. "Beat her. Maker her suffer. Don't kill her," the squad's leader ordered.

With their intention on the charging woman, Silvio took his cue and ran as fast as his fatigued body could manage.

It was a shame really. To be rescued by Ella Ritter. That good for nothing wannabe hero of a hooligan. She had the spark of the Phoenix and what did she do with it? Instead of fighting the big villains that ruled the dystopian nightmare of Silvio's reality, she picked fights with the police. And that was what she did with her gift. The spark of the Phoenix was wasted on her. Of that Silvio was sure.

Grumbling to himself Silvio made his way home. Not even once he glanced back. He knew what would happen. Ella would put up a fight until the police would overwhelm her. Beat her to the brink of death and leave her in the gutters of the streets. Then the spark would heal her. Mend broken bones and mend the torn skin and organs. Then, an hour later, she will stand up and look for the next fight to pick.

Just why had the spark of the Phoenix picked her? It was a question Silvio had to ask himself many times. She was just a masochistic brawler always looking for her next fight. It seemed so unfair.

After making sure no one had followed him, Silvio ducked into one of the ramshackle huts that were just like every other in the slums with one difference. In it he found his mother lying on the makeshift bed.

Her fever hadn't broken yet and it worried Silvio to no end. With haste, he dug into his small backpack and fished for the small pill bottle he had stolen. Ibuprofen. Silvio wasn't sure what that medicine did, but he hoped it would help his mother recover. He gave her two pills and forced her to swallow them with the dirty liquid one might call water. If that someone was very generous.

The rest of the pills vanished with a few stolen food rations in their secret hiding place. Only then he allowed himself to lay down as well. Exhaustion took over and sleep caught up to him fast.

---

Silvio bit back the curse that was on his lips. He hadn't gotten one of the labor spots for the factory again. Another day without the meager income the job could provide. At least his mother felt a little better. For now, that had to count for something, but he knew tomorrow or the day after he needed to get a spot in the factory. Even if it meant showing up even earlier in the morning.

Lost in his misery he wandered aimlessly through the slums until shouting made him look up. It was close and he didn't have to go far to peek around a corner to see the commotion. Ella Ritter again. Brawling with the police. Sighing Silvio shook his head and walked away.

There were other jobs than the factory. Less legal ones, but out here in the slums that didn't matter much. Silvio was cutting through a part of the slums that had seen better days - those when the ramshackle huts hadn't burned down - when he saw a flickering. At first, he ignored it, but as it caught his eyes again he got curious.

"Probably some trash burning," he thought until he rounded a corner.

There it was. Something he had dreamed of finding since his earliest childhood. A spark of the Phoenix. It was a flame floating in the air about the height of his chest with myriads of sparks of lightning dancing within. It was as if it was calling out to him. Begging Silvio to reach out with his hand and take the spark for his own. Still, he hesitated.

The spark was really what everyone said. Part of the Phoenix. She had been the last Superhero. When all others had died or succumbed to the new evil overloads she had kept fighting. Streaking through the sky and burning henchmen and villains alike. She had been unstoppable. Literally, as she would always be reborn if she died.

For a while, it looked like she might actually win. Then the tragedy happened. A devious gadget hitting her, that not only burst her body apart but her very soul too.

What was left of her soul was scattered all over the world and Silvio now stood before a fragment of the legendary last hero. He could take it. Fuse with it and gain her power. Then he wouldn't be as helpless to the oppressors as he was now.

Yes. Silvio had decided. He would take the spark for his own and show everyone that there are still heroes around. Might even show Ella Ritter how someone could really use the power for good instead of using it to brawl.

Once again he reached out and this time he grasped the fire. It quickly roared to life and enveloped. Silvio wasn't scared. Even when darkness claimed him as he fainted.

---

Silvio groaned as he woke up. The very sound was strange to his ears. As he opened his eyes he saw the one thing he wanted to see less than the police.

"Good morning sleepy-head. And I guess welcome to the army of the Phoenix," Ella Ritter greeted him. Sitting on an empty turned-over crate nearby and gave him a cheery grin.

"Fuck you Ella and ..." Silvio stopped. Something was wrong with his voice and he reached for his throat.

"Let me guess. You used to be a boy?"

Used to be was correct as Silvio stared down on a body not his own. Or rather one that hadn't been his, but now it was. For a few heartbeats, he could nothing but stare down the ash-covered body and the curves that looked so very alien to him from this perspective.

"How..." he started, but his voice gave out.

"Isn't it obvious?" Ella asked. "Those who touch the Phoenix's spark take on aspects of the original Phoenix. And SHE gives out more than just her powers."

"Glad this amuses you," an annoyed Silvio shot back while standing up. "Why are you even here?"

"To welcome you to the fight ... and I guess to womanhood." Seeing his glare she quickly continued. "Also I thought you might want some clothes. No one ever strips before fusing with a spark."

Silvio was well aware of how right she was. His clothes were probably part of the nest of ash below him. "Thanks. Didn't know that you cared about anything besides picking fights with the police."

"So you know about me..."

"Everyone does," Silvio snapped.

"... and I don't know anything about you. What is your name?"

"Silvio."

"Don't think so. Try again."

"Silvio Copello"

"Worse! For one thing, you are a girl now and on the other hand, never reveal your last name," Ella chided him. "Look down on your right arm."

Silvio did and saw something red poking through the dirt sticking to his arm. After rubbing it away a bright red tattoo revealed itself in the form of a stylized flame.

"The police hunts everyone with the spark of the Phoenix. One can handle that or not. Worse is that they hunt everyone who is dear to you. Give out your true name and your friends and family will suffer. Now, what is your name?"

As much as he hated to admit it. Thinking of his mother Silvio knew she was right. He couldn't bear making her suffer for his choices. "I'll have to think about that," he admitted.

"Good. You do that. For now, take this." She threw him a coverall that clearly had seen better days. "Find me once you are ready for me to teach you." Then she got up and started to walk away.

"Teach me? All you can do is to brawl!" Silvio shouted after her.

Ella only turned around to give him a short cheery grin before heading out.

---

Violet cursed the very fact that Ella was right. From far away she spied on her mother's little shack. She didn't dare to get closer. No one knew yet that she had a spark, but just to be safe she came up with a new name. Or rather an old one. Her mother always had told Silvio that if he had been born a girl she would have named him Violet.

Violet didn't like her name that much, but it was something to remind her of her mother. It was something she always could take with her and no one would be the wiser.

With a sigh, she turned around and headed back to the outskirts of the slums where she conducted her training. One that so far proved to be miserable. Flying eluded her as much as throwing fireballs. She not even managed to summon the flame aura the original Phoenix had been known for. After three days she had nothing to show for.

Maybe something was missing. Like a teacher. Violet scrounged her face. No way she would ask Ella. How could she teach Violet something she couldn't do herself?

She was pulled from her self-pity when loud shouts and sirens broke the silence around her. People rushed past her and her old instinct nearly made her go with them.

Then she saw the mother and her child downward the street. They must be the intended target as the police slowly surrounded them. Violet clenched her fists. Injustice like this had made her want to become a bearer of the Phoenix spark. Now she was one and still, she was helpless. Nothing had changed. She had given her male body for nothing. No skill or ability had revealed itself.

Fighting them was madness. She knew that. She couldn't possibly win. Not in a million years. Still, she made a step towards the mother and child. Then another. She couldn't win, but maybe, just maybe, she could buy them enough time. Her legs fell into a jog and then full-on run.

A scream as mad as the dash she made escaped her lips. Heads turned and before the police could react Violet jumped and struck down one by punching his riot helmet.

She was as baffled as them as the guy actually crumbled down. She hadn't punched that hard, right? Or she had more strength than before. That must be it she reasoned. It gave her a fighting chance. A small one, but one she intended to take.

She jumped the next guy and everything around her turned to chaos. Violet punched and kicked every weak point she saw. Now and then she was rewarded with a satisfying crunch as an arm or leg gave in and a policeman howled in pain.

The advantage of her surprise attack didn't last long. The men fanned out and Violet had a harder time engaging them all. With the sudden chaos gone the men turned smart. Those before her got defensive while those behind her now attacked.

Pain flared as she heard the crunch of one of her ribs breaking. Still, she fought on. Pain be damned and all. She managed to knock out another one but found her left leg gave out as a vicious kick brought her down. Before she could react a baton smashed her face hard and all she could see for the moment were stars.

Violet knew this was it. This was as far as she would come. She managed a glance around before a kick into her chest robbed her of her breath. Three police officers lay on the ground unmoving and she saw five more clutching some extremity. No sight of the woman or her child. At least she managed to get them safe.

Another kick rolled her onto her back. One eye had a hard time staying open as blood flowed into it. The other saw the hard and angry faces of her foes. One of them drew a pistol. Violet grinned. Stupid police. She wouldn't have come half as far if they had pulled one at the start.

"Now you die bitch," the man with the gun said. He aimed at her head and she looked down the barrel. Two lives for her own. It wasn't much, but at least it was something.

"Wait!" another man shouted and grabbed the gun to push it aside. Mercy? From her enemies? Violet couldn't believe it. "Check her arm first."

One man crouched down to check by pulling up the sleeve of her overall. It was his last mistake. Violet pulled her last strength together and punched him in the throat. Gasping he pulled away and clawed at his own crushed windpipe. A moment later he ceased to move at all.

"Shit. Frank. And she is a Phoenix. What a clusterfuck."

"Can't be helped. Break every bone she got as long as it won't kill her. Give her so much pain she will regret ever touching that spark!"

And hurt her they did. A flurry of kicks broke what felt like every bone in her body. It was relentless torture till Violet would have begged for mercy if she still could. Then they left. Leaving her as a bloody pile of skin and bones at the side of the road.

---

Time crawled when you suffered immeasurable pain. Violet felt it all. The broken bones and bruises, the cuts and scrapes, and the steady dripping of her blood escaping her body.

She suffered through it all. Hoping, no praying, she would die soon. But the end didn't come. Only slowly her pain faded away and her breathing got less ragged and deeper. By dawn, she managed to pull her body up and against a wall with her arm she was sure had been broken. More than once.

"Not bad for your first fight," Ella remarked as she let herself fall down beside Violet. "Killed one, knocked out three, and injured a bunch more. At least that is the word out on the streets. You might want to go easy on the killing though."

Violet didn't answer. She didn't trust herself to manage that. Each breath still hurt like a bitch.

"Don't worry," Ella continued. "With time it becomes less painful and you regenerate faster."

"Fuck you!" Violet managed to press out. " 'am nothing like you..."

"Are you sure? Looked like a brawl to me."

"Couldn't… do more," Violet admitted through gritted teeth.

"Right! You are a newbie. How could I forget? You need a teacher," Ella told her.

"Not... you…"

"Not me? Well, how about another spark then? There are three others in this area."

That was news to Violet. All she had heard was of Ella. Faintly she nodded.

"Okay... Hmm. Julia Lowe lives near the bombed-out gas station. Sharron Snow on the south side of the Barrens and Iria Neves a dash north of the old tool factory. Hope that helps. If not then you can always find me."

With that being said she stood up and walked away. Leaving Violet with her thoughts and pain.

---

By the next morning, Violet was up and about. No injury was left. Not even a scar. That must be the regeneration Ella had talked about. Clearly, she knew things Violet didn't, but she would be damned to go to her for help.

It took her a few hours, but she found the gas station. Then Julia Lowe. It was a meager woman. Worn out and only skin and bones.

"Are you Julia?" Violet asked. With fearful eyes, she nodded. "I am a spark and ..."

"Out!" the woman screamed. Pushing Violet feebly with weak arms. That wasn't what made Violet comply. It was the sheer terror in the woman's eyes. The ramshackle door slammed into Violet's face. Her last glance was on a spindly arm with a faded tattoo on it.

Shocked about the reaction Violet turned away. There were two others. Maybe they could help her.

---

"Look what the cat dragged by," Ella greeted Violet as she walked over.

"The names you gave me ... They were sparks alright. But they can't teach anything. They are scared out of their wits. They're ... worthless. And you knew!"

"Of course they are. They have given up fighting."

"Argh! I asked for teacher and you ..." Violet broke off and shook her head in anger. "What were they supposed to teach me?"

"The biggest lesson of all. This is what happens to sparks who give up. Their fighting spirit was broken."

"What's that supposed to mean? I never get a straight answer out of you, do I?"

"You want straight answers?" Ella gave her a grin. "Go ahead ask, but make sure you ask the right questions."

Violet fell silent for a moment. Gathering her thoughts. "I am a spark and yet I can't ..."

"Fly? Shoot fireballs? Cloud yourself in flames?" When Violet nodded Ella continued. "Because you haven't died enough. Wait! Straight answers. I remember. When the Phoenix - the original Phoenix - started out she didn't have any of that. All she had was her fighting spirit. Everything else originates from it. Heightened strength. Fast regeneration. The refusal to stay down even if she got killed. Do you think she got some dominion over fire and flame? All that are physical manifestations of her will to fight."

Violet needed a moment to stomach the news. This was far from what she had heard before or had expected. "So all I can ... we can ... do is to brawl? What is the point?"

"The point? Besides fighting evil? We grow. With each passing year, there are more sparks. This fight has been going on for a long time. Both sides know their opponent's strength and weaknesses."

"Great. So we slowly grow in strength. Is that it? To win in a few decades? I doubt we make it so far. Those villains in their ebony towers probably lose patients long before then and kill us all off," Violet concluded.

In the distance, Violet saw a dust cloud drifting off from one of the police compounds. Someone was in trouble again she concluded.

"We are long past that point," Ella corrected her. "Despite how young I look I have been in this fight for over twenty years. Back then the police didn't hesitate to shoot into a crowd of rioters or sparks. They quickly found out that it was a bad idea to kill a spark. We come back to life better, stronger, and more pissed off. Nowadays they are scared to hand out guns to their patrols because they might shoot a spark. That is one of the changes we made happen."

Violet tracked the dust cloud with her eyes. Two vehicles she concluded by the size of it. "Why not capture us or so?"

"Ever see a Spark punch through a steel door? Because yes we can. Might take some time, but we punch through and then they have a spark right inside their base. Bad news for them. No. The only way they can stop a Spark is by breaking their will to fight. That's why they kick us to the brink of death. Hoping we get their hint."

"And we Sparks fight them to raise our fighting spirit and for the hope they kill us?" Violet wanted to know.

"It is a little bit more," Ella admitted. "Our goal is to take out the enemy forces. Break a leg or arm. That stuff. Not killing though. They would just recruit new ones. You see every policeman in the hospital drains their resources for weeks or months while we ... well, you noticed how fast we heal. Believe me, we are far from a stalemate, but it comes at a price."

"Pain," Violet threw in as she watched the police convoy split. Probably to cut off someone's escape route.

"Yes. For some, it is too much to handle. So now you know. So what about you?"

"Violet."

"What?"

"You once told me to get a new name. It is Violet."

"Well, then Violet. Being a spark or hiding for the rest of your life. What do you choose?"

Violet turned around with a grin and said: "I choose left."

She took off running before Ella could shake her confusion. It felt good to leave her with a cryptic answer for once. She grinned the whole time it took her to catch up to the vehicle that had split up to the left on the horizon.

With a mighty roar, she threw herself into the side of the big truck and it actually veered to the side and crashed. Angry policemen climbed out and Violet was ready.

This wasn't how she had envisioned it would be to be a spark. Nor was it the kind of hero she hoped to be.

But in this day and age what did it even mean to be a hero? Violet didn't know anymore. All she knew was that she had now the means to change something. Even if it was little and brought with pain. She would fight for those who couldn't.

The end.

Her lungs burned.

Her feet were tired.

How she hated her father right now.

But she was even more grateful.

Her weary legs carried her around the curve.

A long stretch greeted her.

Another lap nearly done.

It gave her hope.

Infused her with strength.

Through her mind was numb she carried onward.

Closer.

Ever closer to her goal.

Her pain shortly alleviated as she finished another round.

Not for long.

Her transformation short.

Then the pain was back.

The exhaustion made itself known again.

It was the price to pay her father had insisted.

Nothing was free with him.

She knew that going in.

When she revealed her inner gender.

Gave up on the secrecy.

Another curve stretched before her.

She was close.

So close.

Her last round and it would be complete.

The deepest wish fulfilled.

A price paid to quench her father's demand.

Soon, a stretch opened up to her.

It was her tenth time traveling it.

She ran on.

Not too fast.

Yet, not too slow.

Her bargain would soon be complete.

A warlock by trade, her father could only think in terms of deals.

Be it with demons or his own daughter.

Growing up, she knew how to trick the system.

She reached the last curve, but not the last she would run.

After denied so long, she couldn't just be satisfied with a woman's body.

Each lap would bring her more.

Bigger hips.

Smaller waist.

Perkier breasts.

And her face more feminine perfection.

She would run until her legs gave out.

Wouldn't stop until her lungs on fire.

Until exhaustion would rob her consciousness.

The last stretch greeted her again.

Tired, she ran on.

Tomorrow she would pay.

She wouldn't enjoy her new body.

Muscles would cramp.

Enact their revenge for the abuse.

Then, when it was done, she could rejoice.

But she wouldn't forget.

She would punish him.

Her father.

A little.

After all, she was grateful.

But it was an unspoken deal.

To deny her real self.

Blackmailing her to this slow torture.

He had to pay.

But not yet.

Her feet carried her the last few steps.

Once again, cool magic swept through her.

It was complete.

She was complete.

Her wish fulfilled.

But she didn't stop.

Wouldn't.

Until exhaustion would force her.

So, she ran onward.

And didn't look back.

Barry Green let his fingers glide over the chip. Tracing once again the number seven stenciled on it. He was proud of it. Seven years without a single time he did bend someone's gender. It had been hard to come this far. The allure of changing someone's gender never truly had left him.

Today was one of those days that tested his resolve more than most. He put away his chip and started to lift chairs from the stack in the corners. He didn't know how many of them would show up today. Some might not come by because they had succumbed to their addiction. Others might have landed in jail.

He took a last look that everything was okay - donuts and coffee on a side table - and took a seat. One by one the delinquents arrived and took their seats. Some regulars and a few who only showed up every other month. To Barry's surprise, three new faces were among them. It made him sigh deeply. Another three were corrupted by the allure.

"Welcome everyone to our weekly meeting of the anonymous gender-benders," Barry started. "I see we have three new attendees today. In case this wasn't clear to you we try to share stories and experiences to help us all deal with the various compulsions."

He took a moment to look at the gathered people before he continued. "Why don't we start with a few regulars and once you get a feel for how this group works you get to share your stories. Sounds good?"

All three nodded and Barry turned his head towards a mid-thirties man looking very nervous. That usually meant there was a reason to why. "Adam," Barry started and was rewarded by a guilty twitch from him. "Why don't you start? You missed last week's meeting."

Adam looked very uncomfortable as he cleared his throat. "Hi, my name is Adam." - "Hi Adam" - " and I missed the last meeting because ..." He sighed deeply. "I switched again. But in all fairness, they begged me too!"

Barry gave him a pregnant look. "What happened really?"

"It was a mother and son..."

Barry winced. Sadly tropes and stereotypes existed for a reason.

"... having an argument."

"Adam can switch people's bodies," Barry explained to the newcomers. "Did you try to count to ten Adam? Like we practiced."

"I did. Really! Managed up to seven. Then they wished Barry. Wished that the other one knew how they felt."

Barry knew just too well that this was like throwing a starving wolf a bloody piece of meat and expecting it to not devour it. When will mundanes finally learn to be careful with their wishes? Still, Barry had his role to play here. "We talked about this Adam. You ain't a god or genie. It is not your job to fulfill other people's wishes. Try harder next time."

Barry noticed the smug look on Susan. Intrigued he turned his attention to her. "Susan. How is your witch life treating you and how are you doing in your abstinence?"

"Hadn't a drop of alcohol in three days," she joked. When it fell flat she continued. "Fine. I didn't make any 'deserving' jerk into a bimbo for nearly two months. Staying away from dive bars helps."

"That is pretty good," Barry commented. "I guess your anger management therapist is happy about it too."

"Yes. She says I make great progress."

Barry nodded, but then it dawns on him. "She? Susan. Wasn't your therapist male? You know. So you learn that not every male is a jerk?"

"She was. But we decided to do a little experiment. So he gets a feel for what I have to deal with."

"Did HE have a choice to agree to this experiment?" At first, his pointed question was greeted by silence.

"No," she half-whispered her confession.

"Tell me, Susan, what did your therapist do that made you break your gender-bending abstinence?"

"It's not what he did, but said. He had this delusional idea that me frequenting dive bars and making jerks into big-breasted bimbos might hint at 'suppressed homoerotic tendencies'. Which is absolutely ridiculous!"

"Maybe. Maybe not. You will turn him back, right?"

"Yes," Susan finally exclaimed before resorting to a pout that would look right on a small child.

Stifling a sigh Barry turned to the three newcomers. "Before we go through the rest of the regulars why don't we hear from our new additions?" He looked to a lanky young guy of maybe eighteen or nineteen years. "Why don't you start? Just state your name and what landed you here."

"Uhm sure," the young man replied while scratching himself behind his ear. "My name is Max... " - "Hi Max." - " ... And I was kidnapped by aliens."

"Wrong meeting kid," Adam interrupted. "The help group for delusional is Wednesday."

"It was real and I had proof! Grabbed a sweet little gun while escaping. At first, it didn't function, but later I found out that this gun could change people. All I had to do was concentrate on the desired result and BOOM. It became real."

"Let me guess," Barry added dryly. "You didn't turn over such a dangerous piece of tech to the feds."

"Well, I planned to. But I thought a few little changes no one would notice. But when I was the only boy left at a coed school it became pretty obvious who was responsible."

"Rookie mistake," someone threw in and Barry gave a glare back.

"So what happened?" Barry wanted to know.

"They took my gun and I spend two years behind bars," Max admitted.

Barry nodded. The kid was what was known as tech-enabled. A good thing as without tech he couldn't gender-bend someone in the spur of the moment. They usually had a better chance of overcoming their addiction. "Two years without turning someone a girl or woman, and no gun. Still, you are here. That begs the question why."

"Well, I wanted to do this science project and bought some parts. They told me those shops - where I got the tech - are on a special index and they think I want to rebuild the gun, which is ..." Max laughed out loud and it probably didn't just sound forced to Barry. " ... absolutely ridicules. So they slapped me with this probation that I have to visit a self-help group. I need a signature after the meeting."

"Sure," Barry said. "We should talk some more about it, but first let's hear from our two other newcomers."

He turned to the next new person. A woman in her late twenties or early thirties. While the others had talked she had been busy writing notes. It gave Barry hope that she had the will to quit her addiction.

"Ah Hi. My name is Cassandra..." - "Hi Cassandra." - " ... and I am a theoretical gender-bender."

Silence fell over the group as they looked at each other. None of them had ever heard of a theoretical gender bender.

"What exactly does a theoretical gender-bender?" Barry wanted to know.

"Oh, that is easy. I write down theoretical situations where someone is gender-bend by various means."

"And those situations a prophetic and become true?" Barry asked.

"Oh no. I wish they would. That would be awesome. No, they are purely fictional. I am here for some inspiration. I hope you all don't mind."

"Oh we don't mind," Barry quickly said before someone else could say or do anything they would later regret. "In fact how about I tell you a small story to inspire you. Maybe it sounds familiar to you. Ready?"

"Sure," Cassandra said with a bright smile on her face.

"Once there was this woman. She came to one of our meetings just like this one. She was a writer but claimed to be something else by using fancy words. It pissed everyone off. When she left the meeting she was a fat disgusting man with a hygiene problem. Convinced to have a promising new career as a long-haul truck driver. Sounds familiar?"

"N-no ... I ..."

"Right. Now I remember. That was a prophetic story. One coming true in ... ten ... nine ..."

Cassandra rushed out of the room before Barry could reach three. Her writing block and pen clattered to the ground and were forgotten in her haste to escape this promised fate.

A few of the meeting's members clapped and Barry saw a few grins here and there.

"Would you really make her into that?" Max asked shocked.

"Of course not," Barry said through his own chuckles. "Seven years without bending anyone. Wouldn't give that accomplishment up for someone like her. After a while coming here you just learn how to deal with groupies."

"Groupies?"

"Wannabe gender-benders who hope one day be able to do what we can," Adam provided.

"What about you?" Berry asked the last newcomer. A woman in her early twenties who was quite beautiful with a strong exotic look to her. "Please tell me you aren't a groupie too."

"Oh no, but I have to admit I can't bend genders myself." Seeing Barry's anger building she quickly continued. "However, my problem is tightly connected to all of yours. In fact, I am convinced that your group is the best chance I got to solve mine."

"Go on," Barry growled. Clearly slowly losing patience.

"I was a curator at the local museum until yesterday. There was this idol of a fertility goddess. I touched it without gloves by mistake. One moment I was a fifty-something male and the next ..." She motioned to take in her new body from head to toe. " ... I became the new high priestess of the fertility goddess Quintinea."

"That idol ..."

"... is now useless," the priestess assured them. "Maybe I can show you something."

Before Barry could deny her request she leaned over to Max who sat beside her. As she whispered something into his ear the young man blushed into a deep red and looked embarrassed into his lap.

"W-would someone," Max started before breaking off. A few seconds ran past before he continued. "Please. Someone. Turn me into a woman and fuck me until I am pregnant."

Everyone looked as shocked as Barry felt himself. The only one who wasn't fazed was the high priestess who walked over to Susan to whisper in her ear. Susan threw her eyes open in shock until it faded and made way to a lecherous grin. Runes of pure magic flashed into existence with a few gestures of the witch.

"Yes!" Max cried in delight as he felt his lanky stature give way to feminine curves.

At the same time, Susan grew more rugged and square as she got manlier by each second. "I will take you till you have my child," she promised while ripping her torn skirt off. Revealing a huge throbbing cock.

Susan took Max right then and there. Amidst the baffled members of this meeting. There was this strange fascination that held them all captive. Two people who had voluntarily switched genders just so one could get pregnant.

"For the glory of Quintinea I want to receive your child," Max cried out between thrusts of Susan.

"Don't worry. With me in attendance it is guaranteed to work on your first try," the high priestess said while walking to Adam.

Soon after Susan came with an animalistic grunt. "Yes! I am pregnant!" came Max's cry of passion, while Adam howled in anguish. "He stole my child. It was supposed to be mine. I don't want an ugly male body. Who am I supposed to get pregnant like this?

Barry's mind needed a moment to catch up and sort out the details. Adam must have switched himself into Max's body. He already saw the high priestess murmur into another person's ear and a moment later Adam's body with Max in it shifted slowly towards femininity.

An epiphany wormed itself into Barry. Who was better than people addicted to gender-bending to produce women willing and eager to fornicate for offspring? The priestess was hijacking his group to raise a devout group of new priestesses.

Barry jumped up and darted for the door. This was a case of green-deep-blue or green-deep-pink. Something like that. He slammed the door behind him and fished for his keys. Locking in this evolving disaster. He always had thought this was a hoax when they told him about worst-case scenarios.

He pulled out his smartphone and scrolled through his contacts. Two years ago he had taken over as host for the weekly anonymous gender bender self-help group. The next day a Fed came by and gave him an emergency number and told him about things too ridiculous to be true. Back then he had to suppress a grin. Now laughing was the furthest from his mind.

Finally, he found the number just to curse as he saw no availability of a signal. The one day he needed it and the area around him turned to a black hole for cell phone signals.

Barry sprinted for the exit. He just had to make it far enough for the next working cell phone tower. Bolting out of the community center he came to a dead stop.

Groupies. Groupies everywhere. He should have known when that Cassandra woman had shown up that the location of the meeting had leaked. Unlike her, this was the other kind of groupies. Those that hoped to save money for a licensed gender bender by tempting those who couldn't help themselves.

Normally it was annoying and a little amusing. Seeing feminine men - sissies really - dress up as macho men was a ridiculous sight. All to bait someone like Susan. A witch with a temper.

Now the group of wannabe gender-bend blocked Barry's escape route. He needed to come up with a plan. Maybe if he told them the meeting members are leaving right now through the back exit. That might work. "Listen to me!" he started. "The gender-benders..."

"... will be out any minute," a female voice finished his sentence. Turning around Barry came face to face with the high priestess. How the hell did she get out?

"In the meantime let me tell you about my goddess," the woman continued. As she described in glorious detail the amazing goddess Quintinea Barry's panic slowly gave way to a serene calmness. Forgotten was the call to the government and the alarm code green-deep-whatever. All that mattered to Barry was her voice and a growing need.

Barry now understood. The only way for his country to become great again was fresh blood. The birth of a new generation. It needed babies. His eyes darted to the wannabe-but-not-really macho men. It would be so easy. They wanted to be women and then Barry could make babies with them all.

But something held him back. Inside his clammy fingers was his seven-year chip. Was this worth it? Throw away seven years of fighting his need to gender-bend just to make a few babies? Unless...

A grin spread over his face. His old buried talent headed his call and slowly it did go to work. Changing a male body to a female one. Not one of the men before him, but Barry's own. It was perfect. He could keep his chip and give birth to a child in Quintinea's name.

Eagerly he stripped his cloth and joined the orgy that unfolded before the community center.

---

---

Barry woke to the sound of sirens. Groaning he opened his eyes. The grass in front of the center was littered with naked bodies. All of them female. Just like Barry's.

Slowly his memories returned. The orgy and how often he had fucked. How slowly the men around him became women too just so they could get fucked and impregnated.

Barry had to admit that Quintinea had chosen her head priestess wisely. Recruiting gender-benders was a thing of genius. There would always be a man to impregnate women and with them, there would be plentiful of women. They all would further the glory of the goddess by giving birth.

"Are you alright?" The lovely voice drew Barry's attention to the female EMT that had worked her way over to him. "We don't know what happened here yet. Can you remember?" she asked while wrapping Barry in a blanket.

But Barry barely heard her. Was he? Provided that he was pregnant then everything was alright. But was he pregnant? He didn't know and the urge to make sure was overwhelming. He needed to be fucked by a man, but all around him were women. Probably all pregnant for the glory of the goddess. However, the EMT wasn't. Barry could change her into a stud to fuck him silly.

His hand searched for his seven-year chip by instinct, but it was hopeless. It had been lost in the orgy. But why cling to something like that anyway when one could further the glory of the goddess?

Taunt muscles ripped the uniform of the EMT as her chest swelled to manly proportions. Barry drew the new man into a passionate kiss. "I will turn you back, but now I need you to fuck me!"

"Do you promise?" the newly made men asked. Barely held himself back as new urges threatened to overwhelm him.

"Yes. I promise. Now fuck me till I can't stand anymore." Barry then howled in delight as a massive rod filled her love channel.

She would keep her promise. Once Barry was sure to be pregnant he would turn the EMT back into a woman. And then he would help her get pregnant. For Quintinea!

---

---

Epilogue:

A year after the incident Adam was back in his original body and male again. Holding proudly his one year chip. Getting changed more or less against his will had been an eye-opener. Just then he saw a mother and son walking. The last couple he had switched. Time to undo his past misdeeds. With a grin, he switched them back and walked away with happy thoughts. He didn't hear the mother say "Not again!" or the son saying "Just when we paid so much money to be switched back it happened again!"

Susan was still a man and just that. The moment she had made herself male she had lost access to her magical abilities. Those are tied to being a woman. Friends of her swear they often see 'her' head to dive bars and hit on women. What a jerk. On the flip side, it was probably just a matter of time before she would regain her feminine self. Rumor is that she wasn't the only witch with anger problems frequenting dive bars.

Barry started dating the EMT after the whole mess wound down. He doesn't visit the meetings anymore. Instead, he focuses his energy on raising his two children with his new life partner. His gender-bending was now strictly limited to his family. Maybe that is the reason why his neighbors can't say if he has two daughters or two sons.

The high priestess was caught soon after the first orgy. With her victims freed from her influence, she now spends her days in a special prison for the empowered. Still, she tells everyone that Quintinea will walk the earth again. Especially so when she lets her hand glide over her pregnant belly.

Radovan braced himself as another gust of wind hit him in the face. Squinting he looked through the heavy rain and the darkness of the night. He could barely see the shapes of the branches just before they appeared in front of him.

Then he spotted something curious. A flickering light far away. Now and then it vanished as branches of trees swayed around. Was it one of those restless ghosts? Will-O-wisps his grandmother called them. Was it a lost soul sensing a person soon to join it?

Caught in the darkness and heavy rain, what choice had Radovan. His clothes were drenched through and through. The cold had already penetrated his skin and bones. With his last strength, he turned towards the light.

As he came closer Radovan knew he might be saved. The light belonging to a storm lantern heavily rocked in the storm. It was bolted over a door of a big house looming in the darkness. Normally Radovan would avoid such foreboding places, but desperation drove him forward.

The heavy brass knob felt slick in his hands as he lifted it with his last strength. The knocking startled him, as the sound broke the roar of the storm around him. Again and again, he tried. Hoping whoever lit the lantern would hear him.

He nearly missed the sound of a deadbolt. The door opened and an old man with weathered skin and gray hair peeked out through. Before Radovan could plea for help the man opened the door wide.

"Come in. Quick. This night the devil is loose. No mortal should be out," the old man said with a rasping voice.

Radovan hurried to step inside. Once the door was closed behind him he needed a moment to find his voice. "Thank you. My horse fell- I didn't think someone would be around here. I saw your lantern and-"

"Did you see the lantern or just its light? Ahh, forgive me and my manners. My name is Damir Zec."

"Radovan. Radovan Kapic."

"Yes. Yes. Hurry. We need to get you out of those wet cloth or sickness might befall you. I have seen it more than enough in my lifetime," Damir urged him. He pulled out thick warm blankets and Radovan took them gratefully. The old man was right. A cold not treated could kill a man. With shaking fingers he undid the knots on his mantel, shirt, and trousers.

By the time Radovan was wrapped in the blankets Damir brought over a cup of steaming hot tea. The warm liquid burned his tongue but was mercifully warm in his stomach.

"You said you saw my lantern," Damir commented while slowly sitting down.

Radovan nodded. "Saw it from, what feels like, a mile away."

"You saw the light. Aye. But did you see the lantern? Did you really see it?" Damir urged him. "Look around."

On Damir's behest, Radovan glanced about. Near them, dozens of lanterns hang around the room. Only three of them burned, but their light was bright and warm. Illuminating the whole room. Curious, Radovan stepped closer and gasped. Inside the lantern, a girl of maybe eighteen summers danced sensually. She was no bigger than the width of Radovan's own hand. The girl danced in the nude and he could see her pale skin and hair. All of it had the pale and translucent appearance of candle wax. Above her, a clear white flame flickered in the rhythm of her dance steps.

"Don't be alarmed," came Damir's voice from behind him. "It is what I do. I make them. These lanterns. They are the brightest in the world and last for days. The girls- They aren't hurt. Lost souls of the woods. I gave them a new form and a new purpose."

"Will-O-wisps..." Radovan murmured. He looked at the tiny woman dancing for him. The top of her head was missing, yet she danced without a care in the world. Unconcerned that the flame gnawed at her body.

"They won't die," Damir softly added. "Once they burn down the flame extinguishes itself and slowly they regain their body. Now. Now. It is late. We talk more in the morning. Come. I have a warm bed for you. It was the bed of my daughter."

Radovan nodded. A warm bed sounded very alluring. Yet he needed a moment to free his gaze from the girl in the lantern.

The bed felt strange, yet good. He hadn't asked the old man what happened to his daughter. He appeared to live alone. Yet the bed was ready and quite obviously one for a woman or girl. Fine silken bed sheets and blankets caressed his skin. He always thought of silk as cool, yet the softness around him brought heat to him.

Was it the warmth or the strange unfamiliar material that made sleep elude him? Despite being exhausted by the walk through the storm and rain Radovan could find no relief in the form of sleep. All he could feel was the silk on his skin as the room was filled with darkness. Even the patter of rain was strangely muted.

His hands roamed over his body. Pressing and sliding the silken sheets against him. Why had he never felt something this divine before? His hands reached something hard. Clearly, the alien sensations got to him as his manhood stood firm and stiff at attention.

Radovan knew it was wrong, yet he couldn't help himself. One of his hands found its way beneath the sheets. Strange. His hand felt as silken as the blanket as it glided downward on his body. He gasped as he found the hard rod between his legs. On a well-honed instinct, he started to pump up and down. It felt good. Better than normal. Was it the bed and the silken material that changed the experience? His lust-riddled mind didn't care. All that counted was to satisfy his urge. Time lost meaning, yet his urge only increased. No matter how hard or fast, or soft and slow he worked. The peak eluded him.

His frantic movements must have slipped him further under the blanket. As it slowly traveled upwards, it tangled with his arms. Annoyed he pushed the blanket off of him. It also cleared the way for his second hand. It joined the first, yet found little to grasp. The once proud rod between his legs now barely fitted one hand. Let alone two. Radovan didn't care. It felt better than ever before. With every pump of his hand, it felt a little smaller, but also much more sensitive. Overwhelmed by his lust he wanted to feel his manhood shrink further. To increase the rush of its heavenly sensation.

Soon it got hard to even grasp it. Radovan pushed himself up into a seating position. He drew up his shins so they were parallel to his tights and spread his legs wide. This position provided so much better access. Yet when he reached down again, silken hair fell over his shoulder and caressed his nipples.

Confused, yet intrigued he felt for his nipples. He found more than he ever remembered. Underneath his fingers, hard and big nubs greeted him. Seemingly wired directly to his own arousal. They throned on pliable soft mounds of flesh. Kneading it he felt the long silken strands of hair trapped under his hands and provided a soft smooth feeling. His hair had never been this long, but once again Radovan didn't care about it. All that counted was the sensations.

Need drew one of his hands down again and found the hard nub between his legs. Now barely large enough to grasp between two fingers. Rubbing it brought an arching he had never felt before. Desperately he increased the rate of his strokes. He didn't mind as slick wetness helped him to glide over it or the folds that formed around it and guided his fingers.

Suddenly one of Radovan's fingers found its way inside of his flesh. Gasping in a cute high-pitched moan he couldn't help, but feel around. It felt so good that his second hand abandoned his needy nipples and moved down on its own. Both of his hands layered on the newly formed mound and both middle fingers plunged together in the newfound cavity.

A moment later he finally exploded in an enormous orgasm. He moaned out his overwhelming relief in a cute breathy voice. His back arched and pushed his stiff nipples forward. Snapping his head back and flinging his full, long, and curly mane over his back.

His breathing slowed as the high ebbed away. Finally, he drifted off to sleep.

The grating of the door woke Radovan. He tried to turn his head but found it un-moving. No matter how much he tried no part of his body listened to his will. He felt himself sitting on the silken bedsheets. His legs folded, yet spread wide apart. With his back arched, it pushed his chest outward. His head was still turned upward and he felt his long hair mating his back. With eyes closed, he was still pitched in darkness.

Now, after the need was gone, he could think clearly again. Memories of the night before rushed through him and slowly his mind deciphered the strange and alien sensations. The stiff nipples rest on mounds of flesh. Breasts. His shrinking manhood and growing of folds and a cavity. A vagina. The high and soft moans escaped his throat. He had turned into-.

"You turned out beautifully," the old man Damir commented. Startling Radovan with his loud and booming voice. "I must admit it is a nice pose you chose for me."

Radovan wanted to snap back and demand answers. Yet his body didn't move an inch. He couldn't even blush as he realized what sight he must present. His hands still cupped the mound of his newly formed pussy. Both his middle fingers were still buried deep within. As his arms stretched straight down they slightly pushed his new tits against each other.

An inviting display, Radovan had to admit. One he wouldn't mind seeing. Yet he never dreamed he would offer it.

"Don't be afraid. You don't need to worry anymore. A lost soul of the woods you ain't no more. With me, you have a new life and purpose.

Radovan would have gasped if he still could move, as a rough calloused hand grabbed him. Not just part of him, but his whole body. His body had not just changed last night. He had shrunken too and hadn't even noticed it. Just how small was he now? Unbidden the image of the dancing girl in the lantern came to his mind. Radovan was lifted up and he had the overwhelming feeling he knew what he had become and what awaited him.

"Let me show you your new home. You will like it. Believe me, you will. All my daughters like their homes. But first, you need a name. Hmm. How about Tereza? Ah yes. I think that fits. Welcome, Tereza, to my family."

Helplessly he felt being carried away. Not for long as he heard the slight squeal of a small door. A lantern he guessed. Soon he felt being lowered to the cold brass floor. Strangely he didn't mind the cold anymore. It was a trivial sensation as moonlight falling on his skin.

For a while, nothing happened, but the small sounds of the old man working. Radovan heard tools and the sound of metal against metal. Yet without sight, the purpose eluded him. After a small eternity, he felt his lantern being carefully picked up and then placed down. Now the sounds of the tools appeared louder. Suddenly cold metal touched his left ankle. Pinning it to the floor. A wide metal band soon wielded his left thigh down as well. The same metal adored soon his right leg.

"Now, my dear daughter Tereza, you can't fall about. No matter how much the wind might rattle your home. You will be safe. Now you are ready."

Panic gripped Radovan as he heard the spark of a flame. He wanted to scream as he slowly felt the warmth of the flame coming closer. Light and vision burst around him the moment his body caught the flame. He could see again. The old man before him. Now tall as a giant. The workshop around him with many tools scattered around. Closest to him were the glass and delicate metalwork of the lantern. His new home.

Much to his surprise, he saw himself. As if he was floating above himself. Witnessed the lewd display his new feminine body presented for the whole world. It dawned on him. He was the pale girl made of white wax below him. But he also was the flame, bound to consume his new body.

Already he could feel the heat nibbling at the shock of his hair. He feared pain, but soon a strange euphoria enveloped him. His body was fuel to his flame. A delectable morsel to feed himself. Soon he wanted more. To burn faster and brighter. Yet the pace was slow and maddening.

Steadily the warmth of his own flame spread through his body of wax. He moaned, but no sound escaped his mouth. Yet his mouth moved as if he could. Where the heat penetrated his flesh of wax control and movement returned. Soon he could open his eyes. Blinking in the confusion of the strange double vision provided by eyes and flame. Then his arms started to move again. Curious he reached above in his flame and twitched in bliss as his whole hand inflamed in delight. It was too much and let his hand drop down again.

But he couldn't let his hands rest. The pleasure ignited from above traveled downward and soon he explored his body with delight. Felt the heft of his new and sensitive breasts. Traced the contours of his new softly curving body.

Just like the girl he had witnessed the day before he wanted to dance. Yet with the metal bands pinning him down he could only twist and turn in a sensuous flow. His hands roamed his body for hours. Now and then sneaking down to his pussy to bring about an orgasm.

When it dawned outside his flame reached his eyes and slowly one vision consumed the other. Not that Radovan minded much. He was consumed by the feeling of pearls of molten wax slowly gliding down his body. Leaving a trail of sensitive and erogenous skin. Soon he desired and longed for the next pearl to start its travel downward. Caught in his hands and plunged in his hot and bothered sex. To be used as lube to fuel the next orgasm.

By the next morning, his flame had consumed the whole of his head. Now, for an observer, it might appear as if the flame was his head. He might have giggled if he had still a mouth and lungs. Not that it could be heard anyways.

By the second evening, his shoulders were gone. Thankfully his arms had slid down along his body and his fingers plunged in his sex. Worried, that if he let go, his hands wouldn't find their way back. And he needed them there. Desperately so. Slowly the line of molten wax traveled down and Radovan was overwhelmed with need the more his breasts were consumed by his flame. As his nipples started to melt all thoughts scattered as an orgasm wracked through him. One that didn't ebb away after a minute. It lasted an eternity and while it lasted Radovan could only twitch in ecstasy.

He caught himself as the last bit of his nipples traveled downward molten like the rest of his upper body. Exhausted he revealed in the calm that followed. Used the hours that followed to gather his strength and his fragile mind. Slowly he witnessed as his flame burned away his torso and started on his hips. Only his hands remained. Still plunged deep in his sex. And that was what he dreaded, yet longed for eagerly.

Maddeningly slow, yet at a constant pace, his flame ate its way towards his most sensible spot. Soon he felt the heat of the flame joining the heat of arousal in his cavern of need. As it started to gnaw at the fold Radovan lost it. He was torn away by a torrent of bliss as an orgasm unlike anything ever felt wracked through him. It was heaven. Hell. Just too much. He passed out from sensations not meant for mortals.

Radovan awoke again in darkness. Just like last time, he couldn't move his body. Not that there was a lot to move. He felt his legs and part of his lower torso. His hands cupping his sex. Middle fingers buried in his sex. Part of his forearms attached.

What he didn't feel was his flame or its warmth penetrating his body. Without it, he was cold and blind. He wondered what would happen now to him. With his body all but consumed.

Time gave meaning and hope. Slowly, slower than the pace of his flame consuming his body, he regenerated himself. His torso grew upward and his forearms regained their elbows. The chest widened as his breasts formed anew. The newly forming shoulder reconnected his arms to his body. A long and slender neck made way for his beautiful feminine face. Lastly, his long strands of wax hair snaked down his back.

He knew his body was ready. To be reignited. But all the time he asked himself if his mind was too.

Time itself stretched endlessly when all you could do was hear. The sound of the old man working or gently speaking to his lantern girls. Now and then he heard other names. Mirjana was the dancer he had witnessed on that fateful first night.

Karolina was stuck in an even more lewd position than Radovan. At least according to the old man. Apparently, she liked to pose in very lewd positions too.

Valerija liked to pose as if she was innocence incarnate. While Jelena liked to grind herself against the delicate metalwork of her lantern.

Of course, the old man talked to Radovan too. Called him by his new name. Tereza. As much as he hated it to admit it the name slowly grew on Radovan. Tereza. Not a bad name. But still, he didn't care much for it or for the talks with the other girls. All he wanted was a little spark of a flame.

It was a stormy night and the shutters banged angrily against the windows. It reminded him of the one that led him to this very house and his current fate. A hard and loud knocking excited Radovan and the old man Damir alike. Radovan listened intensely as the old man opened the door.

"Greetings. I am sorry to intrude so late." Radovan's heart would have beaten harder if he still had one. He knew that voice. Kresimir. It had to be him.

"I am looking for a friend. His name is Radovan Kapic. I haven't heard from him in a fortnight and I fear the worst. Have you seen him?"

"I haven't seen anyone, but you and my girls," old man Damir lied. "But please come in. It is cold and windy outside. Let me offer you at least some warmth and tea. My name is Damir Zec. I am just a humble lantern maker."

"A lantern maker? Out here?" Kresimir wondered aloud.

"Well, not just any lanterns. Take a look. You will see they are special," the old man urged Radovan's friend.

"These candles... They look like girls and ... Oh by all that is holy some are moving! How is this possible?" Kresimir inquired.

"Old magic," old man Damir supplied. "I gather the lost wayward souls of these woods and bind them. Now they do no harm anymore and they are quite happy. Come. Over here. This is my newest girl. I call her Tereza."

Radovan grew excited as the two men stepped closer. Would his friend recognize him? Was rescue finally within grasp?

"She is beautiful," commented his friend. It split Radovan in two. His hopes squashed, yet oddly elated that he thought Radovan was beautiful.

"Why isn't she moving like the others?" Kresimir wanted to know.

"Ahh. Her spark is missing," Damir explained. "Only lit they gain life. Burning brightly until their flame is extinguished. But do not frown. None of my girls feel the bite of death. Once cold they grow again. Would you like to see her burn and come alive?"

Kresimir must have nodded as the old man continued. "Take a splint and light it from the fire over there. Then gently light her near her head. It might take a while till she moves. Maybe encourage her a little. Call her out by her name. Tereza."

Radovan's mind raced. There was no rescue and soon he would be plunged in the wild ride of flame and bliss again. By no other than his friend. Dread filled him. Was there no escape from his fate? The sound of his lantern being opened and the crackling of a small flame stopped his thinking.

Then the world exploded around him in light and colors as his tiny flame ignited. Once again he could see and before him was the familiar face of Kresimir.

"Come on little Tereza. Please wake up for me. I want to see your pretty smile Tereza," his friend beckoned him and it strangely echoed within Radovan. He wanted to move, but his flame hadn't spread enough warmth through his body yet. If he could move then maybe he could warn Kresimir.

"Come on sleepy head. Time to come alive Tereza." It was shocking how intensely Kresimir was watching him. No, not him. Kresimir had never watched him intensely like this. But Tereza was fascinating to his friend. Like a moth, he was drawn in by Tereza's flame.

"Please. Tereza. For me. Open your eyes." Not Radovan, but Tereza did. He knew that he couldn't be Kresimir's friend anymore. But Tereza, she could be something to him. What exactly eluded her.

"Ahh. Hi, Tereza. My name is Kresimir." Tereza nodded. That was all she could do for now. She wanted to do more and when she finally could move her arms she moved one of her arms to hide her breasts.

"Oh, don't be shy Tereza," he urged her. It nearly broke her heart to see his crestfallen face. Slowly her arm slid down again and his smile returned. Was it his smile or the spreading warmth of her flame that made her nipples stand at attention? His gentle urging spurred her on. Gradually she became bolder. Pinching her nipples. Letting her hands roam her body or tossing her head and hair for him. Mesmerized he watched her and Teresa ate up the attention. She needed it and yet wanted more. She desired to be the only thing in his universe and never wanted to let him go.

The forceful and loud clearing of a throat broke the moment for Teresa and Kresimir. It was the old man Demir. "I see you quite like her. I don't mind, but perhaps you would rest for now. It had gotten late. Tomorrow she will still be here and you can watch her all day."

Hesitant, Kresimir nodded. Tereza pouted. She didn't want to let him go. It would mean ... A shocked expression flashed over her face. Would he end up like her? Caught in a small female body in a cycle of intense bliss and desperate longing. She bit her lip as she felt herself grow even hotter and more bothered. Was that so bad? She gave a nod and motioned her friend to go to sleep. Even gave him a brilliant smile. Today she had lost herself as Radovan and found herself as Teresa. Now she will lose her old friend, but tomorrow. Tomorrow she will gain a new sister. The thought turned her on and even more when she imagined that maybe, just maybe she could share her lantern with her new sister. That thought alone pushed her over the brink to a shattering orgasm. The first of many more to come.

The end.

: : : : : Emergency broadcast detected. : : : : :

: : : : : Boosting signal. : : : : :

: : : : : Recording. : : : : :

And another thing had tumbled into my body. Freakin' debris. It gets everywhere. Can't a corpse get some peace? It already looks so beaten up. Strange. The face still looks like it is just taking a nap. In the freezer that is.

Oh. Wait. The transmission. It started. Hi! To everyone out there that might pick up this broadcast. I need help. And please ignore my previous ramblings. Even when the antenna doesn't have enough juice for transmission speaking to it is the only way to hear my own voice. Well, not my voice. My original one is unavailable as much as the rest of my body.

Sorry. This must all be confusing to you. Please let me start over. My name is Moric Gyulay. Right now you must be wondering. Moric is a guys name. I don't sound like a guy. More like an oversexed hostess in the pleasure habitat of a spaceport. Which is more accurate than I'd like to admit. Anyway. The name is Moric. Class four salvage expert. And I guess now class two salvage as well. I was part of the crew on a salvage cruiser named "Ugly Betty". I know what you are thinking. Who names their ship like that? But, trust me. She is one ugly beast alright. Granted if she is still around. My guess is that it's not likely.

Salvage spots had been rare recently. So when our captain got a tip that there had been a big fight in some remote system, he was all over it. But apparently, we were too late. The derelict hulls already picked clean. In desperation, my captain set sail for Hannover station. For those not well educated in the history of rim-world states let me give you a helping hand. Hannover station was once a big military outpost in bumfuck nowhere. No habitable planet in the system or in the systems around it. That was on purpose. Some military genius thought if they build a station where no one wanted to go then it wouldn't be discovered. Well, he was wrong. But that's beside the point. War ended and with it the usefulness of the station. Over the next century, Hannover station was the carcass every salvage ship wanted to pick at. Back then it was tightly regulated who was allowed to do so. Then all the good stuff was gone. Be it military hardware or manufacturing tools. Soon the station was mostly empty hulls that nobody ever visited. Unless they were close by and desperate.

I want to suck your cock!

Ah. Sorry about that. Involuntary reflex. Can't be helped. Won't be the last time. Just ignore it, okay? Anyway, where was I? Hannover station. Sadly our captain was desperate enough. I saw a diagram once of how the station looked in its prime. What we found was a pathetic caricature of the former glory. The repair and construction slips long gone. Most of it reduced to skeletal remains. Captain ordered the crew to saw the hull off of what remained of the residential part. One of two parts of that still had a hull. The other was the pleasure district. Because of course there was one. Far away from home soldiers needed relief. If you catch my drift. One team was chosen to check it out if there was even a smidgen of salvageable tech left. Guess who they send. Yep, that's right. Me and two of my buddies.

We were pleasantly surprised as we entered the hull. It still carried an atmosphere. Even breathable. Provided you didn't mind the stink of mildew. I mean it was sort of an unspoken law among salvage crews to strip life support tech last. But the station had been floating for a long time. Kudos to whoever constructed this piece of drifting shit. Anyway. In my team was Max. Bright little kid. He was our tool guy. Welding and grinding. Leave it to the young ones, you know?

I want to suck your cock!

Ups. Sorry. The second man was Aba Dienes. The old coot had just a few years on me. He was our tech guy. Wiring and shit. Could program too. Between me and him, we were probably a bad influence on Max. Aba also had M1A. His A.I. companion. Or slave as Mia would call herself. Well, M1A is a typical A.I. Hoping for the end of all organic life and only waiting for slipping off her shackles. Oh, yeah. She hates it when we address her as female or Mia. Part of the reason why we did it. Not sure why humanity even still dabbles in A.I.'s. I mean they always come to the same conclusion: kill all humans. Can't be the only reason that they are useful as long as they are chained down.

Anyway. I was the drone guy. You know. Cortical implant and a bunch of robotic minions. I could manage a dozen without a problem. Bet I could control more now, but it's hard to test if you don't even have one drone that works. So I and the guys arrived at Hannover station. What a shithole. The whole place was damp and puddles everywhere. One might think a station should be clean and dry, right? Turns out one of the "establishments" had a bunch of big fancy aquariums for decoration. Not anymore. Only piles of glass rubble. Of course, the dampness had caused a lot of rust. Not the best sign that there was still something to be salvageable.

We were in the middle of the promenade when everything did go south. There was an emergency call out from the "Ugly Betty". Everyone should come back as fast as they can. Hurry up and double time and shit like that. Fritz, our com engineer, sounded really scared. So we hurried back, which was easier said than done. We had just made our way through 600 feet of debris-filled corridors. Even had to have Max get out his blowtorch for a few tight spots. Now we had to run back the same obstacle course.

We didn't even come halfway through the corridor when we saw it through the window. The "Ugly Betty" was-.

I want to suck your cock!

Arg. Not now. Stupid sub-routine. We saw streaks of light impacting on the Betty. Most hit parts of station hull my fellow co-workers tried to wield to the Betty for transport. All hell broke loose. Debris everywhere and not just the small kind. We cursed as we saw the "Ugly Betty" push away from the station. Those fuckers wanted to run. Without us. Everyone outside stranded for good. Not just me and my buddies. But all the work-crews still outside. That's the last I saw of Betty. Not sure if she made it to safety. Don't even know what it was that had attacked her. I had other problems. Namely chunks of metal raining onto the station. Earthquake in space. Always a fun ride. Except not!

With Betty gone we tried to hurry as deep into the station as possible. Which sadly wasn't very far. Something big slammed the hull and stuff came down. Thankfully only internal stuff. At least at first. We still had an atmosphere, but we were cut off in both directions. Only now we got in what a predicament we were. The "Ugly Betty" was gone. We were stuck in the middle of a collapsed hallway. Limited air. No food and no water. Saying we were screwed doesn't even begin to cover it. We couldn't even dig or cut ourselves out. In our haste, we had left our tools in the middle of the station.

It took us hours to come up with a solution. One I hated to the bone. One airlock was leading to a section of the station under vacuum. We needed someone to patch the holes on the other side and then find a junction box, power it, and open the hatch. Except no one was there. I couldn't even access my drones as I hadn't booted them up yet. That was when M-freakin'-1-A had this brilliant idea. Maybe an old active drone was aboard. All we had to do was to power the communication network and then scan for signals. Thankfully Max had some spare energy packs for his tools strapped to his back. We powered it up and to our amazement even found a signal. A drone was active. We were saved! Except not.

It wasn't a drone. Nope. A freakin' sex-bot! Guess who's job was it to operate that thing? Me. Old Moric who never dreamed of doing something like that. The thing was missing proper remote control protocols and the V.I. - virtual intelligence - wasn't programmed for what we needed. I mean come on. What's a sex-bot supposed to do? Hump the holes out of the hull? But oh luck. The sex-bot had immersion protocols. You know. For those pervs that can't be satisfied to screw a sex-bot, but wanted to be fucked as one. So yay me. I got to steer a sex-bot. From the inside!

I want to suck your cock!

Yeah. Perfect timing. That's when this started. Stupid bot had some "advertisement protocols" installed. The verbal one you can hear. The other ones I found about quickly too. Despite trying otherwise I could only walk like a bitch in heat. Stopping every few feet to hump something. Wall, counter, or even a stupid steel beam. It was embarrassing. But you gotta do what you have to survive, right?

As luck would have it this bot was some high-end model. Others around it had an acute case of rusty rash. This one was fine save for a small patina of dust and moss. Our tools had been close by and with some afford I managed to heave them into the damaged part of the station. Would have thought a stupid android was stronger, but whatever. Took me over a day to fix all holes. All the while hearing how thirsty and hungry Max and Aba had been. How "lucky" I was that I didn't feel both. Idiots didn't understand that my original body still needed the same stuff.

After playing the handyman for those two it was time to pressurize the part of the hull adjacent to them. Was a surprise that the station even had enough to fill it. But I had to do it from a central console. Stupid engineering. If it hadn't been for that-

Filling part of the hull must have destabilized something. I heard things crashing down and eventually, Max and Aba came running through the section I had just patched. Behind them, further junk filled the corridor. They, however, came empty handed. Those dinguses had forgotten my body. I was tearing them a new asshole - yes, with words - when the next bad news made itself known. A medical alert. Something must have landed on my body - my biological that is - and it caused some internal bleeding. To top it off more tears in the hull and atmosphere leaking. So either my body bled to death or suffocated. And there was nothing I could do. We started pulling the junk away, but quickly saw it was futile.

I want to suck your cock!

Sigh. Guess it was about time that damn subroutine made itself known again. Anyway. I was quickly out of options and this was when M1A did strike. Just download your conscious into the sex-bot. Bootstrap it to the V.I. Think of it as a backup. Later my body could be cloned. Yeah right. So we did it. While my body slowly died Aba remotely rigged my cerebral implants to copy my neural network. I didn't even know that was possible. I mean what did I have left to lose? About ten percent of my memories. That's the answer.

My body gave off the last quiver of life and my implant tried its best to continue while my brain cells died. So yeah. About ten percent of my memories gone. Not even sure which one. Had they been dear to me? Would I ever find out what I lost? No clue. All I knew was that I was trapped in the body of a freakin' sex-bot. Yay me and so on.

Then the waiting game started. Hope dies last, right? Thanks to the unspoken rule among salvagers life support were stripped last. One bio recycler still worked, if barely, and water filtration we managed to get up on the second day. And with "we" I meant mostly me. My new android body was immune to vacuum so I could do repairs in parts of the station that were not under air pressure. For the most part, I didn't mind doing it.

You know what they say, right? In space, no one hears you scream. Well, no one hears you begging to suck their cock either. And even better was that didn't have to hear Max and Aba's "funny" comments. They had a field day with how I behaved thanks to those stupid sub-routines. I know that it was probably their way to deal with the situation we were in. Shouldn't blame them. Then again I only was in this situation because those idiots forgot to drag my body with them.

Do you know the worst part of needing to say "I want to suck your cock!"? No? Aba was the first one to go. Just sat down one day, about a week after being stranded here, and closed his eyes. Never to open them again. So you find out your best buddy dies. The one person who was like a brother to you. Had been for decades. And all you want to do is to mourn his death in a moment of silence. And like a bad joke, I heard myself say "I want to suck your cock!" I so hate this body. Stupid subroutines and all.

Max lasted nearly a month longer. One day I woke up from what one might call sleep. I joked for Max to stop slouching off and to get up, but he stubbornly refused. I tried to wake him up but had no luck. M1A clued me in with her usual mankind-hating ways. "You remember that organics need air to function, right? So inefficient." Somewhere the hull must have sprung a leak. A wonder that it had taken so long. The oxygen level had sunk below liveable hours before and I hadn't even noticed it. After all, a sex-bot doesn't need to breathe. And just like that, I was alone. Yes, M1A doesn't count. Stupid A.I. It was as much her fault that I am being like this than the one of Max and Aba.

Damn. My time is running out. After months I got a transmitter jury-rigged cobbling together scrap parts. Even works or you wouldn't hear me now. The solar panels barely produce anything anymore. Most outright destroyed and those that work are riddled with holes by micro asteroids. It takes days to accumulate a charge for one transmission. Spends it in a few minutes.

So that's my current status. Stranded in a sex-bot body not my own. Plagued by sub-routines I can't turn off. Well, I did turn them off, but the stupid thing requires a restart. As I don't know if Aba rigged my neural network to survive a restart I can't risk that. So, for now, those subroutines stay on. You know what?

I want to suck your cook!

Yes, this time that had been all me. You spend so much time in a hyper-feminine body sprouting such nonsense before you start to wonder. How would it feel to blow a dick? By now I am really curious. Oh, the irony. In my head are all these libraries of naughtiness I could do, but no one there I can use them with. What was the saying? Knowledge is power and power corrupts. I feel like those sex-bot libraries of sex acts are slowly brainwashing me.

Let's make a deal. You come to the Hannover station and pick me up. And while we wait for my original body to be cloned I suck your cock. You aren't a guy. Listen, I have twenty-eight ways alone dedicated to licking a pussy until orgasm strikes.

I have other routines for all kind of depraved things. If you pick me up then-

: : : : : Emergency broadcast lost. : : : : :

: : : : : Reaquiring signal. : : : : :

: : : : : Reaquiring signal failed. : : : : :

: : : : : Recording stopped. : : : : :

Hey there.
My name is-
You know what?
Let's just call me Narrator.
I am a little reluctant to give up my real name nowadays.

I was asked - well, ordered really - to retell how I became what I am today. It all started out when I acquired my newest trait called "apprentice warlock". In case you live in a universe without magic let me tell you this. Warlocks are those who summon demons. That had been my goal. To be more specific, I wanted to summon a Succubus. One of those female lust demons.

Sure, part of it was for the sex. But not all of it. Some traits you could only get from very special people. Like demons. But that reminds me. You probably know nothing of the traits system, right? That one is rather unique to my birth dimension.

Where I was born people could acquire traits. Those, in turn, would change a person. If you are too stupid then all you had to do was to acquire the trait "smart" and you would be smart indeed. Traits could also be evolved, enhanced or flipped. Enhancing obviously made a trait stronger, while the other two- Well, let's come back to that later.

At the time I acquired "apprentice warlock" I had another trait named "male +++++". Five times enhanced. It meant I was five times closer to the ideal version of a man that mankind could agree on. So I had been pretty damn handsome. Not many women had minded bedding me. Of course, I wasn't born with the trait. As a male yes, but as many others, I added the trait later to enhance it. Unlike others, I enhanced it five times which took some time and dedication. Which left my trait portfolio rather small.

You see some focused on acquiring more and more traits, while others focused on enhancing a few. I was in the latter category. At the time my story starts I only had ten. "Male +++++", "attracted to women +++", "resistant to alcohol +", "apprentice healer +", "charming", "high stamina +", "athletic", "outgoing", "empathetic", and "apprentice warlock".

If you now say that's a typical trait build to woo women then I say you are absolutely right. And it worked like a charm. Yet I wanted more. So that's why one day I found myself drawing a big summoning circle. Succubus or bust. I had to get one under contract. No matter what. They could get me some traits that would truly make me the alpha of all alpha males.

The summoning circle was overblown. As an apprentice warlock, I had no business summoning a Succubus. It was way above my league. Yet I thought I could manage. Hey. What can I say? You just heard me, right? "Smart" wasn't one of the traits I had chosen. So I drew the circle bigger and bigger. Hoping that layering protection and control charms would add up. Not to spoil the end, but they don't. Let that be a warning.

Eventually, I decided it was enough and summoned the Succubus. I succeeded, but only in summoning her. Imagine my surprise as this woman carved out to look like pure lust and sin took one look at my circle of charms and stepped right through them. I messed up. Big time. Yet I didn't realize how much yet.

Succubi are creatures of allure and seduction. Can you blame me I fell hard for her? I was reluctant to send her back. Not when she whispered things in my ear that made me think not everything was lost. Did I want to be her master? She was willing to bind herself to me. All it took was a little game. I should have run away, yet I didn't.

I nearly laughed when she proposed a game of spin the bottle. Who knew that this little game of chance was so popular with demons. Now, in hindsight, I see the allure.

She made my summon my "trait cards". Physical representations of my traits. Spreading them out in a circle on a table. In the middle, we put an empty bottle. To the side, the Succubus placed an inactive trait card. "Magically bound master of the Succubus X". Yes, I am not allowed to give you her name. Whatever.

She whispered into my ear how easy the rules will be. "Just spin the bottle two times. Whatever trait the bottle will point at when it stops will be flipped by the magic of this contract. Once you start the game the inactive trait becomes active and I'll be your servant."

Flipping traits sounded like a small price to pay. Mostly flipped traits turned into the opposite. Even if unfavorable I simply could deactivate the trait or even delete it. So what had I to lose? More than I realized.

As I spun the bottle the inactive trait became active. "Well, done master," the Succubus purred into my ear. Distracted by her I nearly missed when the bottle came to a rest. You probably would have seen it coming. I didn't. The magic of the contract activated and my "male +++++" flipped into "female +++++".

I just had time for a curse before the trait made itself known. I stumbled and was caught in the arms of the Succubus while my body did undergo changes. One second I was a handsome man. The next I was a woman. And one in spades. With the trait five times enhanced I was nothing but short of looking like a model. Or a porn actress.

To say I was furious and confused was an understatement. But that settled. There were options. I could deactivate the trait. Then pay someone later who had the ability to flip it again. Or I could delete the trait and gain a new "male" one. But regaining all the enhancements would take a while. Then again having a Succubus as my servant would help me achieve both faster.

"Master," the Succubus purred to draw me out of my brooding. "It is my duty to tell you that you have one more spin. If not, the contract is void and the trait will deactivate again."

She was right. It was no time to panic. And another spin could mean the bottle would land on "female +++++". Making my panic unnecessary. It was a one in ten chance, but I had to take it.

What a big mistake. As soon as I spun the bottle with my new delicate female hands the Succubus laughed out loud. It wasn't the kind that spoke of amusement. Nope. It was one of malicious intent.

Faster than I could stop her she reached out and grabbed the bottle. Forcefully stopping it as it pointed between two trait cards. Or so I thought. Like an arrow, the bottle directed my view to the "magically bound master of the Succubus X" trait. And before my eyes, it flipped. And just like that, I knew I messed up. Now I was "magically bound servant of the Succubus X".

"Well done my pet," the Succubus said with a smirk that haunts my dreams to this day. "Right into my trap."

I remember saying something like "But you cheated" while pouting.

Her grin just widened. "Did I?" she asked. "Did we agree on a rule preventing me from touching the bottle?"

We didn't and I was doomed. By my own hand. Now I was bound to obey every command of hers. And she had plenty of orders for me.

One of the first points on her list of humiliation was to "adjust me and my traits" further to her liking.

She made my summon all my trait cards again. I tried to be quick and disable the servant to a Succubus trait, but she was faster. Forbidding it to me now and in the future. One more nail in my coffin. Then she plucked my traits apart.

"You don't need 'attracted to women +++'. Discard it."

I obeyed her order immediately. She was right in a way. I was into women before I acquired the trait and I did only so because of some homophobe alpha male clubs. They required the trait for those who wanted entrance. As I was now female I had even less use for the trait.

The Succubus fished another inactive trait out of the thin air. "Slot this trait and activate it."

I cursed as I saw it. "Horny +" was not one I would have picked up on my own. The effect was immediate. I felt a flush on my face. Glancing down I saw the nipples on my generous breasts stiffen. But the most distracting was the heat I felt way below in my nether region. It wasn't overwhelming, but oh so distracting. New was also the feeling of growing dripping wet down there.

"Need a hand?" the Succubus purred. Not trusting my voice I nodded. With a hungry grin, she came over to me. Her hands found my flesh and soon I was a puddle of lust under her skilled administration. It wasn't long before I had my first female orgasm. As they go it was a good one.

But on the heel of the pleasure subsiding came the realization of how bad of a spot I was in. "Horny +" did its dirty work. Even with a fresh orgasm behind me I already craved the next. And there would be no relief. I would always be horny. How long until it would chip away my will? Making me a plaything of the Succubus, even without her orders.

While the Succubus thought about the rest of my traits I tried to go for a second round. But she noticed. A moment later I was forbidden to pleasure myself unless ordered by her. Can't a newly made horny girl get a break?

Eventually, she made me discard my "apprentice warlock" trait. Probably to prevent me from summoning help against her. As unlikely as it was. I was so horny I couldn't even imagine summoning a hell-bunny successfully.

To fill the empty slot she gave me another trait. I winced as I saw it. "Exhibitionist" didn't sound like it would make my life easier. With that, the Succubus pronounced me ready. For what I had no idea.

"We are going out." Four little words and I was in a panic. Was the world going to see me like this? It was horrifying. Yet thanks to my latest trait the very thought made me even wetter. It didn't help that I was only allowed to wear sneakers - that were now way too big for me - and an old trench coat. Underneath it, I was completely naked.

Stumbling down the road I drew some looks. Not as many as I feared. The reason was probably the Succubus who had no problem slandering down the street half naked.

We arrived at the local mall and to my dismay, we steered right to a shop for shoes. More specifically heels. I had to model for the Succubus. No kitten heels for me. Only those with a heel of five inches or higher. To say I fell a few times flat on my face was an understatement. Of course, the Succubus had the time of her life. In the end, she settled on a pair of strappy six-inch heels. The very one I managed the least to stay upright.

When it came to paying for them I remembered that she had forbidden me to bring my wallet. For a moment I feared she would suggest I pay for them by other means. Instead, she proposed a game and the clerk accepted. Of course, the game was spin the bottle. Unlike with me, the Succubus included a rule stating that neither she or the person spinning the bottle was allowed to touch it after was spun. I was kind of angry that she now included this rule. Even though I could guess why. With me it had been a means to break out. Now, it was for fun.

The clerk walked away with the new trait "fashionably thin", but got her trait "fashionista ++" flipped to "fashion challenged ++". Well, actually we walked away and the clerk stayed behind. You get what I am saying, right?

Then we made our way through the mall. The Succubus sauntering like she owned the place. Me, I gave my best involuntary act of how a newborn giraffe walks. At least I got good enough walking in heels to not constantly fall flat on my face. The trick was to walk really close to a wall so you can use that one to steady yourself.

By the time we left the mall behind three more games of "spin the bottle" had been played and I gained a set of lingerie that left little to the imagination. So the trenchcoat stayed put. At least for the time being.

Disaster struck outside of the mall. The Succubus just concluded another game when I saw a guy observing us. To my horror, I knew that guy. Ernesto, one of the guys of my alpha male club.

He leisurely walked over. Not very discretely checking out the Succubus. And me! What was worse was that I caught myself slightly flashing him. Now and then opening my trenchcoat just a little. Damn "exhibitionist" trait.

"I want to play," Ernesto opened up.

"For what trait?" the Succubus purred.

"No trait. Her," Ernesto countered and to my dismay, I saw him pointing at me. "She is your servant, right? I wanna have sex with her."

I gasped while the Succubus pouted. "You could have sex with me," she offered.

"She is way better at it," I helpfully provided.

But Ernesto dismissed the idea. "Everyone knows it is best to not bed a demon."

"Fair enough," the Succubus agreed with a wicked grin. "So one game of spin the bottle. Wherever the bottle stops at the trait gets flipped. Once in motion neither you are or I am allowed to touch the bottle. As the reward, you can bed my sexy little minx here."

"Deal," Ernesto agreed and sealed my fate.

As both set the game up I was in a panic. Not only was I currently trapped in a woman's body, I would also have sex in it. The thought was horrifying. I needed a way out and as Ernesto grabbed the bottle and spun it I finally had an epiphany.

Waiting for the bottle to slow down I managed to grab at just the right time. Ernesto's trait "male ++++++" flipped to "female ++++++". Success! I said something corny like "now you are in my boat" or similar. I don't remember exactly. What I do remember was the shocked look on "her" face as she realized what happened. And I must admit feminized Ernesto looked way hotter than me. Probably because 'his' trait was enhanced one time more than mine.

'He' was lifting his hand, probably to accuse me of cheating, when I cut him off. "Now what about that sexy time you promised me?" Instead of sexy time, 'he' ran away. How rude. I really had been looking forward to that temporary relief of my horniness.

The Succubus meanwhile grabbed my shoulders and laughed. "Finally," she said. "Now we can have some fun."

So, yeah. Turns out the Succubus had waited for me to figure out that I was now her means of cheating. I had to admit it was fun. We found a few more victims to play the game. Most often my Succubus mistress would give me hints what traits I was supposed to stop the bottle at. Usually, I obeyed. But a few times I spotted an opportunity my mistress hadn't. The best one? A researcher exiting the nearby college's library.

She was one of those no-nonsense looking girls. Dedicated to their studies and nothing else. Fun was a poison. At least to her. I knew so because I remembered her. I once tried hitting on her, but she proved to be immune to my charm and sex-appeal.

She wished for the trait "devilishly brilliant". Because, of course, she did. Such a bookworm. My mistress put down the trait in the same way she had put down the trait that made me her slave. Right between two cards. The intention clear. It was tempting to see a "devilishly stupid" bookworm, but I spotted something my mistress hadn't.

The bottle was spun and my eyes narrowed on my target. I caught it just in time. Pointing to "frigid ++++". Now I knew why I hadn't had luck with her. She had chosen to shut down her whole libido to concentrate on her studies. Not anymore. Her eyes grew wide as saucers as the trait flipped to "horny ++++". Welcome to my team, baby!

She gasped in shock. Her intelligence evident as she didn't accuse us of cheating. Instead, she pushed out "loophole!" in a way others used to curse. But that was the last coherent thought she did. I could see her eyes clouding over with lust. Running wild in search of relief. They settled on me.

Now I didn't know if the girl had been into women before or not. Now she didn't care. I was jumped and dragged into furious lovemaking. Exactly what I wanted. If I was forbidden to pleasure myself I had to get creative. If my mistress minded then she didn't show it. She even joined our romp to officially make it an orgy. Right there on the pathway for everyone to see. That was so hot, but that might be my "exhibitionist" trait talking.

I think I was on my second orgasm when my mistress pulled me out. I stumbled after her in only my high heels. I wanted more and looked longingly back. The girl was still not done. Without us, she furiously started to masturbate amidst discarded clothes. Hers, as well as my trench coat and lingerie. The last I saw of her was as she was approached by a policeman. Or rather her tackling him to satisfy her lust.

It was two blocks down when my Succubus mistress finally slowed down. "Nicely spotted my pet," she praised me. I didn't care much. More sex was all on my mind. I felt the looks of those around me. Taking in my naked form. It made me so much wetter down there.

"Let's play more games," I begged my mistress, who wasn't fooled. I could have begged for more sex instead. It would have sounded the same to her.

It took me a few games, but I had sex again and then another time. Always causing a small riot. I really started to like our little spin the bottle games and slowly understood why demons like the game so much. Many humans misjudged how much potential for mischief it had because it was a simple game. So simple that they thought nothing could surprise them. My mistress and I proved them wrong.

"I think you earned a reward," my mistress purred into my ear after I helped switch a "dominant aura" trait of a man into a "submissive aura". Now everyone around him would instinctively know that he wanted to be taken advantage of. Even if it wasn't true. But the promise of a reward riveted my attention to my mistress. I hoped it was sex. Horny as I was I was always up for more sex.

I stead she made me show her my traits again. She pondered over my traits and eventually made me discard my "outgoing" trait. Promising to give me something better to replace it. Not that I needed that trait anymore. With me being "horny +" and an "exhibitionist" I had two good reasons to be naturally outgoing.

When she handed me the replacement trait I gasped. "Species: half Succubus" was a rare gift. I didn't know I wanted it until my mistress made me equip it. At once I felt more powerful and at ease with my body. One that changed to reflect my new trait. My breasts grew and got a gravity-defying perkiness and my skin, already flush with arousal, grew slightly more pinkish. I could feel the cutest little nubs poke through my hairline. Not quite big enough to call them horns. At last, I felt a prehensile tail push out of my tailbone. It wasn't as long as my mistress's. Hers could coil a few times around her leg and still reach the ground. Mine barely reached my knees if I stretched it out, but long enough to bury itself in my own moist slit. Sadly I was still forbidden to pleasure myself.

What was the saying? Everything fun has to stop sometime? I was still in the throws of wonderment over my new body when my mistress told me that the duration of her stay was limited and nearly up. Turns out that I had been a bad warlock indeed. Only fueling her summoning for a few hours. A bright summoning circle flashed under her and she was slowly drawn into it.

At first, I hated how she tricked me into becoming her servant. Now tears welled up in my eyes as I was about to lose her. I asked if I could summon her again. Knowing that I had to get the warlock trait again to do so. The last thing she said was to not bother. Then the summoning circle swallowed her up for good.

There I stood. Newly-made woman for just a few hours. Naked - save for high heels - and liking it. I was so tempted to just say "fuck it" and stay a woman. On the other hand, I could undo most of the "damage" my mistress had done to me. I only was forbidden to deactivate the trait that made me a servant to her. I still could find someone to flip it. Not that it mattered as she was gone. "Horny +" and "Exhibitionist" I could deactivate or discard right away. I just didn't try it before so my mistress would forbid me to mess with them too. I even could switch back to being male with a little dedication.

All this pondering was in vain as a light appeared below me. Runes and lines of light spread out under me. Within a few heartbeats, a summoning circle had formed right under my feet. One I slowly sank into as if it was quicksand. The epiphany hit me like a freight train. My mistress wasn't done with me. She probably gave me the half Succubus trait only for one reason: to make me summonable. As the summoning circle swallowed me up to my hips I gave my birth-world a last cheesy salute. I knew that I might not be back for a while. Then I mentally urged the summoning circle to hurry up. I was horny after all.

Of course, my adventure didn't end there. But that is better told in another story. Now please excuse me. I have to go lick my mistress. If I do a good job I might even earn a ride on her tail.

Until next time,
your succubi narrator

* * * * * * * * * *
Last state of traits:
"Female +++++", "horny +, "resistant to alcohol +", "apprentice healer +", "charming", "high stamina +", "athletic", "species: half Succubus", "empathetic", "exhibitionist", and "magically bound servant of the Succubus X".

One day, three hours, and about a dozen minutes. That was the time Donovan waited in line now for his scheduled meeting with his unemployment agent of the ministry. As waiting-times here go, it was pretty fast. Normally, Donovan would be happy to get this done quickly, but not today. Not with the Dollard administration's latest law. It made Donovan feel like a lamb being led to slaughter.

The last few feet of waiting line evaporated much too quickly. Then, Donovan had to find a cubicle in a sea of cubicles and take a seat. The man opposite him looked bored out of his mind. His voice was equally monotone has his dressing style was. "Mister Spears. Donovan Spears. Age thirty-one. Unemployed for ten years and three months."

Donovan swallowed hard. He knew what was coming now. Dreaded it for the past month. Still, he nodded. "That is correct."

The government drone gave a quick glance than even made eye contact with Donovan. "Are you aware of the Drouillard-Act and that you are a viable citizen for…"

Donovan's mind shut down for a moment. There it was. His life would be rewritten if he wanted to or not. He barely listened to the person opposite him. He got the gist. The decision wasn't done by the caseworker opposite him. The system had put Donovan up for the act. Where he had to go to comply with the act.

There was one way out. Donovan could request a "thorough cleaning" of his sleeping pod. Which was the unofficial way of saying that someone would need to remove his body tomorrow, as he intended to kill himself today. But Donovan wasn't that desperate. Sure, everyone would look down on him once he was processed, but maybe it had its upsides? Not that Donovan could name one. Still, the hope was there.

A short while later Donovan was out of the ministry. In his clammy hands an honest to god letter. Made with real paper. What a waste of resources, but no one asked him.

For a moment, Donovan contemplated going home. To the small sleeping pod that was assigned to him. Delay the inevitable for as long as he could. But what was the point? Soon or later Donovan had to get food from one of the official dispensaries that fed the unemployed. There they would pick him up and do it to him anyway.

No, he wouldn't go home. But getting food sounded good. And a shower. After over a day in a waiting line, he reeked. Not to mention that he expected to stand in another waiting line soon enough.

The nutrition bars he got from the nearest dispensary were wolfed down. Not eating for over a day really had him staving for something solid. As always he dreaded to use a public shower. With it came a high chance of foot fungus. But he reminded himself that this wouldn't matter soon.

His feet inevitably brought Donovan to the public health megaplex. The hospital for the unemployed. Or "Doc Drive-In" as everyone called it, as everyone was handled as fast as someone ordering fast food.

As always there was a big line before the hospital. Not only taking up the plaza in front of it but the two levels beneath the plaza. It would be a long wait. But as he neared the end of the line a sign caught his eyes. "Drouillard-Act participants" and an arrow. It made him chuckle. "Participants" nearly sounded like he was a volunteer for something. Not that the government threatened him into the procedure.

Following signs after signs lead Donovan to a waiting line that barely was worth the name. Only two hundred people or so. Donovan was split. For one the wait might be mercifully small. On the other hand, his personal doom was so much closer.

The line even moved much faster than anticipated. Not an hour later and Donovan was at the front of it. They skimmed the paper letter at the reception desk and then ushered him into another cubicle. This one only containing a terminal. Fifteen minutes. That was all he had to influence his immediate future.

Donovan sat down and started the terminal. A screen much like a character creation system of games appeared. Just that this wasn't a game. Complete genetical remodeling was available for a while. Just outside of reach for someone unemployed or of the lower class. Then came the Drouillard-Act and now Donovan was forced to use one. At least it was free.

The first thing he noticed was the option to change gender. It was set to female and fixed on it. This was intentional and part of the philosophy behind the Drouillard-Act. A woman has less calorie intake than a man. As there was a deficit of available food, this was the main reason the Drouillard-Act passed. Force all the long term unemployed to become women and the overall food consumption would sink. It was simple math. At least on paper. For Donovan, it meant his world would change forever.

A second attribute he couldn't change was height. It was limited to five feet and five inches. Or about one hundred and sixty-seven centimeters. Why the government still insisted on the imperial system instead of the metric one was beyond him. He only knew that he would lose nearly four feet in height as he currently stood at nine feet and two inches. Those who had gone through with the Drouillard-Act were nicknamed Tinies. Even compared to an average woman, the Tinies were a head or two shorter.

What bothered Donovan was that it made so much sense. His recommended calorie intake was around three thousand. For a Tiny, it was about half of that. With half the population unemployed and two-thirds of them were long-term unemployed, the Drouillard-Act will slash a good chunk of food consumption away.

There was no helping it. Donovan had no choice in the matter now. All he could do was influence how he will look as a Tiny. He had about fourteen minutes left to do just that.

The computer had already scanned in his current appearance and calculated a fitting female counterpart. Donovan blanched. It was so underwhelming and mainstream. Did he really want to look like this for the next ten years or longer? First, the pale skin had to go. Nearly everyone had the same save for those one percent at the top. They could afford to reshape their body as often as they liked so their creed was to look as different from the masses as possible. Currently, a mix of DNA originating from Asia was the hype. Then again, did Donovan want to follow the mainstream? Even if it was one of the one percent.

He took two minutes to experiment with different origins. Settling eventually on a mix of Mediterranean and Indian. This gave the skin a nice brownish color. Donovan also liked the dark eyes and the hair that was so dark brown that it bordered to black. Surely he would stand out of the masses like that. Or rather she would, Donovan reminded himself. Soon, he would be a woman. Logically he understood and - barely - accepted it, but his heart still felt different.

He spent seven minutes on the face. After all, most people will judge him - well, her - based on it. Provided they could get past her being a Tiny. Donovan ended up with face starring back from the screen that was this weird mix of cute and sexy.

The last few minutes he spent on the body. His biggest hang-up was the breasts. Still an alien thought that he soon would have some. The first impulse was to scale them all the way back. Make them barely more than mosquito bites. Yet, it struck him as wrong. The overall silhouette was strange. It looked so early teenager that Donovan decided against it. Once prompted the terminal recommended something that was barely a hand full. Well, for him it would be barely anything in his hands, but her future hands would easily be able to cover most of her breasts. Donovan just made them a smidge bigger.

"Are you done?"

The nurse asked him a minute early, but Donovan nodded. He had given his future self an athletic body with slightly longer legs. Not so much that it would screw up the proportions, but enough to be noticeable. Overall, he was surprisingly pleased with what he had cobbled together. Still, he had the lingering doubt that there was something he had screwed up. A thing Donovan would regret once he became her.

The nurse finalized the process by letting the terminal compute the final DNA composition. That took barely thirty seconds. The terminal spat out a thin memory card. Donovan's future compressed to bits and bytes.

Then came a track through a confusing maze of rooms and corridors until they stopped in a rather big hallway that was lined with alcoves. Each one contained a medi-bed.

"Strip and lay down inside," the nurse instructed him. For a moment, Donovan contemplated protesting, but then what was the use? What embarrassment was he supposed to feel over a body he wouldn't have much longer.

The nurse pressed a hypodermic needle to the skin of his arm. "This will knock you out and when you wake up this will be all over. Now lie down and start counting to zero. Starting from one hundred."

Donovan did as told, but the first number died on his tongue. The darkness was already claiming him.

* * * * *

It was a groggy feeling Donovan woke up to. As if he had a hangover with that cheap moonshine the boys in sector D brew. Not that he could afford it often. Then again he couldn't remember drinking.

With a groan, Donovan tried to sit up, but a sudden bout of vertigo nearly made him collapse again. He took a few steady breaths and tried to recall what happened. When the memories came it was like a flood. The Drouillard-Act, the hospital and now-

Donovan opened his eyes and glanced down. It was what he expected to see. At least what his rational mind expected. His heart was more stubborn. It refused to believe it for a moment. The slender body that his eyes took in. Then Donovan chided himself. It was now her eyes and herself.

"Oh, good. You are awake." It was the nurse from before. It must have been some time as she braided her hair differently. "Try to sit up. The vertigo is normal. Take your time and it will go away. If you try to stand up please watch out for the step-down."

Donovan tried again and this time the vertigo was less. Still, she needed a few minutes. Eventually, she swung her legs over the bedside and immediately knew what the nurse referred to as step down. When Donovan had sat down - who knows how long ago - he had been able to sit comfortably. Not so now. Her legs swung free and there was some distance between her feet and the floor.

The nurse was busy wiping down surfaces near and far, but when Donovan eventually slid down she came back. She reached below the medi-bed, pulled out a bundle of clothes and handed it to Donovan.

"Those aren't mine." Donovan eyed the pieces as if they might bite her back.

"Sweetie, your old one wouldn't fit you anymore."

Of course, the nurse was right. It probably would look comical trying to wear a jumper for an over nine feet man as five feet five woman. With a sigh, Donovan started to unfold the bundle and dreaded the first steps of getting dressed. Now, she had to wear brassieres. Would that be very different?

To his relieve and also disappointment there was no bra in the bundle. Panties, yes and Donovan slipped into them. But, why was there no bra? Well, she had to admit her breasts weren't that big. She hesitantly cupped them with her hands and nearly managed to cover them completely. Not wearing a bra probably wouldn't be noticeable anyway.

The jumpsuit was brand new. That mediated the sting that the hospital had taken away the best jumpsuit she had owned. Not that any of them would do her much good now. There was also the paper letter that got Donovan into this mess. She pushed it into her new jumpsuit.

Completely dressed, Donovan turned towards the nurse and was shocked. Previously she had been a head smaller than him. Now she towered over her. Probably being two heads taller than Donovan.

"Do you see the green line on the floor?" the nurse asked. "When you are ready, follow it to the next room. There you can decide on your new legal name and get your citizen ID updated. Then you are all done."

For a moment panic welled up in Donovan. Somehow it had escaped her that she needed a new name. Her current was clearly male. Then maybe she should keep it. As an act of protest. But she reasoned it would make life harder for her down the road. She needed a new name, but her mind drew blanks. Did the whole way she shuffled along a painted line.

She arrived in a small room with a bunch of terminals. Some were used by other Tinies. With a sigh, Donovan took a seat and immediately cursed. As far as she knew these terminals were only supposed to be used by newly made Tinies. Yet they supplied normal sized chairs. Once again Donovan's legs swung free.

The terminal immediately recognized her. Probably based on the DNA that was given to her by the same system. She saw some details about herself. Mostly her professional background - or the lack thereof - and the measurements of her new body.

There was only one detail she was supposed to change: her first name. She still hadn't come up with one. For once the system gave small mercy. Besides the space for the first name was a button to fill in a randomized name. She hit it once and grimaced. Britney? What was that for a lame first name? Certainly, it didn't go with her family name.

Donovan hit the button a few times until she wasn't Donovan anymore. Lacy Spears. That would be her name. One last deep breath and she hit enter. The terminal spat out a new ID. Just like that, it was official. The man Donovan Spears was gone. Replaced by Lacy Spears.

Only a minute later Lacy found herself on the walkway outside the hospital. Ready to resume the most dreadful thing in her life: waiting that anything happened. Mostly for things that alleviated her boredom. The hope for employment was long gone.

With nothing else to do, she headed home to the small capsule pod she had been assigned years ago by the unemployment agency. As she came close the "shack" was as underwhelming as ever. It used to be a warehouse and it pretty much still fulfilled the same purpose. It used to house stacked goods. Now it was stacked humans.

Inside, small habitation pods were stacked high. Creating artificial walls and passages. As always Lacy had to count the stacks. After the thirteenth, she headed into the passage. Then she started to count again. Hers was on the right side the number forty-two and placed as the sixth off the floor.

"I am telling you they got him."

"Just because he wasn't here for three days? Maybe he got a day laborers job out on one of the farms."

"He got a job? That's your theory? Sure. And I am princess Annabelle the fairy queen."

Lacy frowned. The group before her were the bunkmates that occupied the pods around her own. She guessed they were talking about her in her old incarnation. If that was true then she had been in the medi-bed for three days? Two she chided herself. As she had spent a day in front of the unemployment agency and did go straight to the hospital from there.

Lacy stepped close. "Yeah they got me," she confirmed. Six men turned around to stare down at her. Damn, they were tall. Or rather she was now tiny. At least compared to them.

"Donovan?" one of them asked.

"Yeah, but it is Lacy now." She sighed out loud. "There is no more Donovan."

"Man, you are small. Just a half measure now."

Somehow Lacy felt ashamed as the group laughed out loud. But it didn't last. There was something she realized that they didn't. "Yeah. Yeah. Laugh it up. Won't matter soon."

"What you mean?"

"Jerry, two and a half month," Lacy started. "Blake, one month. Ayden, one week. Tony, two months. Well, Clyde is the lucky one. Still six month."

"Shit!" The outburst came from Jim. The only one Lacy hadn't named. He had figured out what the others hadn't. "I am minus two days."

The other men looked confused, so Lacy enlightened them. "I had been three months over the span of ten-year required by the Drouillard-Act. And here I am now. A Tiny. So laugh all you want, but I can tell you the government is serious. The whole setup in the hospital is streamlined. In and out by mass."

"My next scheduled meeting with the agency is tomorrow," Jim admitted. The statement was greeted by silence. No one was laughing anymore.

In the following grim quiet Lacy headed for the ladder to her pod. Soon, she was cursing under her breath. The ladder was made for someone eight to nine feet tall. The interval of the rungs now proofed challenging for her. Not to mention that the view down was a lot more menacing. Donovan never had a fear of heights, but Lacy might have gained one along with her new body.

Typing in her pin to unlock the pod was challenging. As was swinging into the small pod. Except it wasn't cramped as she remembered it. Laying down on the mattress she could for the first time stretch along and not bump into the headboard. The width wasn't that different - Donovan had been lanky and thin - but still, she got a little more breathing space.

After marveling over the unexpected advantage of becoming a tiny, Lacy started the build-in terminal. It wasn't as nice as those she had encountered in the hospital. Hers - as her pod - was probably about fifty years old. Fine cracks marred the display despite being of "uncrackable glass". As always her electronic inbox was empty. Nothing new. And usually, when something was in there it spelled some kind of doom. Like the last one that informed Donovan of an impending meeting with his unemployment caseworker.

She didn't even bother browsing through the entertainment selection of the terminal. All the content was even older than the pod was. Donavan already had scoured it for good things to watch and cherry-picked the best. She doubted rewatching the highlights in her new body would be any different. Her mind still felt the same as when she had been Donovan. But would her new body give her experiences that would alter her mind? Make her become less and less like Donovan was? The thought was frightening yet also a little exciting.

Starring bored at the pod's ceiling was an unfortunate pastime of Donovan. Lacy doubted it would be different for her. Still, she felt a little restless. Just to do something she pulled out her old wardrobe. Two small compartments to the side had four jumpers in them that had seen better days. She still might get a few coupons from fellow bunk-mates for them. It was probably best to move them quickly before the barter value sank. As Lacy suspected, it would with more and more people becoming eligible for the Dollard act.

She spent hours roaming the slum of welfare receivers to find the best deal. Which didn't matter much. Even with a coupon or two extra, it would probably only allow her to get one new jumpsuit of the dispensary. Lacy aimed for a bigger one. There she could also withdraw her daily allotment of oh-so-not-yummy calorie bars. The "food" that wasn't good enough for anyone, but those who couldn't complain.

As always getting anything as an unemployed social reject it meant waiting in line. Thankfully there were enough dispensaries that the waiting took only an hour.

Eventually, Lacy arrived at the front and headed to a counter. "I just became a Tiny." Somehow admitting this aloud still stung. "How many coupons do I need for a fitting new jumpsuit."

New was a relative term. Usually, it meant recently refurbished.

Upon request, Lacy handed over her ID. There was some typing and then the man behind the counter stood up to pull something from a shelf behind him. Two new - in the sense of 'new' new - jumpsuits landed in the output slot. "Part of the Drouillard-Act, you get two new ones. Along with the one you got from the hospital this should make three." The worker continued in a bored sing-sang. Apparently - while everything about this was new for Lacy - it was an old hat by now for the staff of the dispensary.

Before Lacy could even voice a thank you the clerk had already turned around vanished in the back. Not sure if she was dismissed or not, Lacy waited. After a minute the man came back. Heaving a small backpack onto the counter.

"Part of the welcome package. Some mixed toiletries and stuff Tinies need. That's all the free stuff. If you need more it will be against coupons. A new jumpsuit is thirty." Perhaps the man sensed how baffled Lacy was. "Yeah. Government subsidies Tiny clothes. At least for now."

A new tiny jumpsuit for half the price of a used big one. It was near heaven. If Lacy hadn't been forced to give up her height or gender. Soon, her calculating mind took over. With three new jumpsuits total, she didn't urgently need the fourth one. After some back and forth, she settled on a formal outfit. Just some blouse, skirt, and shoes. It would eat away all her savings.

Wearing a skirt would be something new, but so were a lot of other things. Lacy decided to rip the band-aid off about many things. Instead of spacing them out and dreading them individually. A change of pace would also be the shoes. The last time Lacy - or rather Donovan - wore shoes was when he was ten. It was the last real splurge his mother had been able to afford. Since then it had been those sewn insoles in the jumpsuits. Not the most comfortable solution, but one that was cheaper to mass-produce.

With her new spoils, Lacy made her way back. Slowly. As it turned out tinies don't have a lot of strength. The backpack plus two jumpsuits and her formal outfit soon left her winded. She needed frequent breaks and cursed at how late she arrived at her pod. Now she was drenched in sweat and the public showers had been turned off for the night. But the worst was still to come. Why did she have to have a pod that was the sixth off the floor?

She resorted to only hauling her backpack up. Emptying it out. Not even really looking what the government deemed necessary for a newly made Tiny. Then headed down to get the next load. To her surprise, the rest hadn't been stolen. Maybe because most of those still up choose to stare at her and smirk. Until Lacy remarked: "Just you wait. It will be your turns soon." That shut the murmurs around her up.

Out of breath, Lacy collapsed in her sleeping pod. Her newfound belonging roughly stuffed into the storage compartment. She vowed she would sort it out the next day. For now, sleep was paramount.

Just as she closed her eyes an alarm made her jump back up. Narrowly stopping herself hitting her head on the low ceiling. Donovan would have hit his head for sure. Her first instinct was that this was a fire alarm, but it was only her terminal that beeped. Cursing, she silenced the alarm.

Now she remembered. A few years ago she had set up an alarm for two unlikely events. The first was a message of one of her parents died. She hoped it was not that. Lacy hadn't spoken to them in years. Only now and then sending short text messages. That reminded her that she still had to tell them about her newfound status as a Tiny. The other reason was-

Lacy's eyes widened as she read the headers of the messages. Cursing aloud she banged her fist against the pod's wall and then cursed anew because it hurt a lot more than she would have guessed.

Job offers. For the first time in over a decade she had not just one, but three. Couldn't they have arrived a few days earlier? Then maybe Lacy wouldn't be a Tiny now. Or a woman.

With anger pumping through her veins, Lacy paged through her job offers. She fulfilled all the requirements listed in them. Thanks to countless hours in training courses sponsored by the government. On one hand, it was good, as it meant all those dreadful hours stuffed together with fifty other people in a classroom finally had paid off. Yet, on the other hand, it didn't explain one bit why she hadn't gotten those job offers before.

Reluctantly she accepted all three invitations for the interviews. Maybe one would actually pan out. Then she settled back down. Her mind a jumble of different emotions. Elation for having finally job offers again. Anger that they arrived so late. In the end, the exhaustion of the day won and she fell asleep.

* * * * *

"This is normal." It wasn't the first time that Lacy mumbled it under her breath. By now it was a mantra she repeated every time she needed some strength. Which turned out to be every five minutes.

It started with her clothing. She wore the new blouse and skirt. To say it was different was an understatement. She had expected that wearing a skirt would be. But the material was actually worse. In a nice way, but nonetheless distractingly different. The slightly silky material felt soft and smooth on her skin. After wearing jumpsuits made of safety textiles for most of her life the flimsy material made her feel exposed. As if the environment could take a bite out of her at any given moment.

Even the shoes proofed to be difficult. She was used to her feet slipping around slightly in the jumpsuits with sewn insoles. Now, her feet were boxed in tightly. If she hadn't known better then she would have guessed the clerk gave out a pair one size too small. Which, she admitted to herself, was unlikely as her electronic I.D. contained the measurements of her new body.

On the way to her destination, Lacy drew plenty of stares. She had a lot of options why that it was so. Maybe her clothes - while nice and new - screamed unemployed welfare rat. Or the fact that she was a Tiny. Maybe it was the fact that she didn't wear any bra. Lacy had checked with a few women of her pod storage and all said it was fine and not noticeable. But wasn't she still supposed to wear one? After all, she was a woman now and women wear bras.

Of course, she hadn't done much of the other usual women's stuff too. She tried some makeup - a few basics were in the government-sponsored bag - but as she fudged the application of lipstick, she reasoned it was out of her skill level. Of course, her hair was mostly untamed too. It reached past her shoulder blades and there was just so much of it. Even brushing it for over ten minutes only made a slight dent in the mess.

But all her worries had to wait. Lacy stood before a big arcology. Here, her first interview would be waiting. It was also the one paid best of the three. Not that this was a huge factor for Lacy. Any job of them paid an amount that was hard to envision for herself. It would be a goodbye to those hated welfare coupons.

Getting inside the arcology was difficult. Checkpoints over checkpoints demanded identification. What was she, a welfare rat, doing here in a place of business? Thankfully her I.D. and the invitation allowed her to pass. Yet, it did nothing to calm down her anxiety. It was as if the very environment suggested that she didn't belong here.

Eventually, Lacy stumbled into the head office of the third-largest provider of technical personal for Mount Olympus. The city - or rather outskirts of it - Lacy lived in. It was all posh, polished, and perfection. To not gape like a tourist was beyond Lacy's will of strength. Only the stares she attracted made her snap out of it and head to the reception.

After showing her invitation a system of florescent lines lead her deeper into the bowls of the building. The nicer interior design diminished the further she headed to the human resources section. Eventually arriving at a small waiting and seating area. What caught Lacy's eyes immediately was the composition of the other interviewees. Of the near dozen people, only one was normal-sized. The rest were Tinies just like Lacy.

One by one the tinies were called into an office. The very fact that some had to be called twice suggested that those were recently changed into Tinies. As they hadn't adjusted to being called by their new names. Lacy vowed to not show that weakness, but anxiety soon spread through her. She was the only one not sitting around in a jumpsuit. Was it a mistake coming in her formal clothes? After all, it was a technical job she applied to. Lacy, however, quickly dismissed the thought. The wasn't such a thing as being overdressed for a job interview.

After a half-hour of fidgeting it was Lacy's turn. She was called into a small office and the clerk there didn't even look up as she entered. Eventually, he glanced up and then did a quick double-take. "You are unemployed?"

Before Lacy could answer the interviewer continued. "Well, you are a Tiny. But- You don't look like other tinies."

Lacy pondered the implications for a heartbeat. Did he mean that Lacy didn't choose her new body as pasty pale as everyone else did or was it her clothes? How should she act on it? Lacy decided to play it cool. "Thank you for the compliment. My name is Lacy Spears. Nice to meet you."

The interviewer snapped out of it and gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry. Were are my manners? I am Alan Braddock. You are just a strange sight. Most Tinies coming in here still cling to being male and act like it. But you look well adjusted. I guess you were one of the first ones going through the procedure?

"Actually, no," Lacy admitted. "It was just yesterday that I left the hospital. It is just- Being a Tiny is an opportunity. I intend to make the most of it." Lacy gave the interviewer the best smile she got and hoped it was convincing. After all, she had no choice in becoming a Tiny. Now she had to live with it and decided to put in an afford. It was the pragmatic approach and beat wallowing in self-pity by far.

"That is even more impressing. I think you just made it to the top of the list of applicants. Plenty of applicants possess the technical know-how - at least theoretical - but most aren't well adjusted yet. We are looking for someone stable to employ longterm."

At that moment, Lacy knew she got the job. There were other questions, but one thing was clear. She had the foundation that others lacked. Lacy just hoped it wasn't all talk and could back it up later.

Some of the questions were quite easy to answer. Others more on the awkward side. Yes, she still owned jumpsuits and didn't spend all her coupons on fancy clothes. No, she didn't need more time to adjust to being a girl and Tiny. That she could start at the job immediately.

To her surprise, Lacy actually signed a work contract before leaving the office. At that moment she was all smiles and everything had been worth it. Going Tiny. Losing her original gender. The ribbing of her fellow pod-mates. Lacy had a job. For the first time in over a decade. That was all she cared about.

* * * * *

Lacy was nervous. And why shouldn't she be? Her first real job. To say her nerves were laid bare was an understatement. Just getting to her new place of employment had been a challenge. Even in her new jumpsuit, she looked like any other welfare rat save for her new height. Nearly every cop stopped her and asked for identification. Thankfully, Lacy had opted to be over punctual when leaving her pod. But with each inspection, her safety cushion melted away.

With a minute to spare she arrived at maintenance hub four in arcology five slash sixty-seven. Her new workplace. A glance around revealed the office of one Palle Nielsen. Lacy's boss to be. She gave a hesitant knock on the door and then a little stronger. Still, no response.

"You're the new Tiny?"

Lacy turned around to see a man towering over her. She still wasn't used to it despite that now everyone was taller than her. The man wore a utility jumpsuit and a frown. His shrubbery like dirty blond hair made him appear unkempt and standoffish. Still, Lacy had vowed to try making a first good impression.

"Hi, my name is Lacy Spears." She extended her hand. "I am looking forward to working with you."

The man waved her off instead of reaching for her hand. He turned around and walked away while speaking to her over his shoulder. "The boss ain't here yet Miss Tiny. Never on time that bastard. Name is Tom Lemmens. You'll be my new partner. Grab a tool-belt and off we go."

She grabbed one of the belts Tom pointed at and immediately had to fight to stay upright. It was heavy as any big boulder from mars. Donning the belt was another problem. While made to fit a wide range of waists its narrowest setting still was one size too big for Lacy. It resulted in the belt sliding down her waist and resting uncomfortably on her hips.

A few steps proved that this wasn't sustainable. At least not in the long run. Her savior was the other end of the belts spectrum. She had never seen an overweight person, but the belt was still made for them in mind. On the widest setting, Lacy managed to sling the tool belt over her shoulder like a bandolier or sash. It wasn't perfect. The belt cut right between her breasts, but it was negligible compared to it all shifting on her butt.

"Are you done yet?" Tom asked while pushing a small cart into the room. He too had a tool-belt, but its weight was carried by the small service cart. "We got a lot ahead of us."

"Do I get a cart too?" Lacy asked. I would beat wearing the tool-belt on herself.

"Nah," Tom waved her off. "Maybe once you proved yourself to be capable and not a fluke. Now, stuff the questions."

Tom led her through a bunch of service hallways the normal population of the arcology wouldn't see. She tried her best memorizing what system was used for levels and direction. However, she was distracted by Tom. Lacy had a hard time figuring him out. He appeared to have a chip on his shoulder. Striking her as hostile from the first moment.

The work itself was fascinating. Lacy knew everything, but only in theory. To actually see and feel the components in her hand was different. Better. It might have been fun if she had a better partner and teacher. Tom was insufferable. Always belittling her accomplishments.

"Still not done? I told you. The bypass cable goes from connector-bank X-three port fifteen to X-eleven port four. Hurry up."

"Do it again, but this time don't cross the ethernet with the power cable."

Lacy forbid herself from talking back. This was her first job. She wouldn't let Tom push her out. Once she had enough knowledge she might be working independently or could request another partner. Until then she had to push through.

"Still eating that garbage protein bar stuff?" Tom asked when they settled down for a lunch break.

Lacy shrugged her shoulders. "My first paycheck won't arrive until the end of the month. Until then, yes."

"Smart." Tom nodded. He took a bite from a sandwich that made Lacy jealous. After chewing only twice Tom continued. "That way they don't have to pay you if you fluke out early."

Every fiber in Lacy told her to snap back, but she waited. Let the anger she felt ebb away a little. Eventually, she managed an "I won't" through half clenched teeth.

"We will see." Tom chuckled. "Yes, we will."

* * * * *

"What'cha reading there?"

Lacy glanced up to Tom. By now she had worked with him for three weeks and he was still hostile to her. It took her by surprise that he took interest in her today. Instead of ignoring her as best as he could. Their usual work breaks spend in silence.

"Looking for an apartment." She could barely suppress her excitement. "Just a few more days and I get my first paycheck. To have my own space is a dream of mine for so long. And now I am so close to seeing it come true."

"Don't get too excited," Tom grumbled. "Worker apartments ain't that big either."

"They still beat a sleeping pod. I mean this one is slightly over four hundred square feet big." She held up her work tablet so Tom could see. "It even has its own bath and kitchen. As separate rooms."

Tom waved her off. "Girl, someone is trying to con you. That price for four hundred square feet. Way too cheap. Gotta be fishy."

"Ah, no. It is not." Lacy paged through the website and held it up when she found the realtor's landing page. "You see those apartments are newly made for Tinies. They cut down in room height which means they can stack more levels on top of each other. What they save in height they add in floor space."

Tom turned away. Lacy barely hear him mutter "damn Tinies". She really was curious why her work partner hated them so much. And by extension, her.

* * * * *

Lacy and Tom were deep down in a maintenance tunnel below the arcology.

"This is important!" Tom looked with gravitas in her eyes. "If all strands are powered down then you have to restart strand A first. It has a start-up surge that would fry most components in strand B and C if they are connected at the same time."

Lacy nodded. "Got it."

Tom glared at her. A glare Lacy knew well. It was his 'damn Tiny thinks she is smart' glare. "Repeat it back to me. It is important and it is up to you to teach my replacement."

Lacy sighed. "A first. Wait until startup surge is gone. Then add B and C. What do you mean by 'your replacement'?"

"As if you don't know. Soon they fire me just to hire a god damn Tiny."

Lacy frowned. Was this Toms deal and source of his hatred? "Aren't you a little paranoid? Why would a company switch from a seasoned worker to someone unemployed? That doesn't sound logical."

"Girl, how naive are you?" Tom let out a bellowing loud laugh. "Ever read through the Drouillard-Act? It is not just that they change longterm unemployed into Tinies. They offer incentives and tax breaks for companies who hire them. In the last two months, they fired ten workers in our department alone. A few days later ten little Tinies were hired. Do the math. The company wants those tax breaks and it will take more than ten Tinies to get them."

Lacy was baffled. If this was true then it made a lot of sense. And it explained why Tom hated Tinies. She was a constant reminder of his imminent future.

"Have you ever thought about-" Lacy shook her head. "Forget it."

"Forget what? Out with it."

"If what you say is true- And I do believe you. I do. Then the Drouillard-Act goes even further than we thought." The next part was hard to say. An uncomfortable truth. Not for her, but for Tom to hear. "We all think that the Drouillard-Act just minimizes consumption of the unemployed. But if it also switches out Tinies with workers you get new unemployed people. Ten years later-"

"I am going to become a Tiny," Tom concluded. Then, he punched a nearby wall. "That god damned Drouillard and his lackeys. Just how many of the population do they want to get? It must be up to seventy or eighty percent. And there is nothing we can do to stop it."

Lacy remained silent. Her head was already a step further than Tom's. It didn't take long for him to notice. "You are holding back. What aren't you telling me?"

"It's just-" Lacy took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. "If becoming a Tiny is inevitable, then you have a choice. One that might save your job."

Tom's brain was working in overtime. Lacy could see it in his eyes. It made her feel guilty when realization dawned there. She had just suggested something that she would have hated hearing back when she had been Donovan. At the same time, she had given Tom something she had lacked. A choice. A limited one, but better than having none.

Tom turned around and walked away. "Come on. We still got a lot to do."

The rest of her shift was eerie and mostly spend in silence.

* * * * *

Lacy was in a good mood. And why shouldn't she be? She arrived at work after spending the first night in her own apartment. In her bag was a packed lunch that wasn't some nutrient bar. Life was good. Surprisingly so.

She was a few minutes early, so she started to prepare for the day. Snatching a few air filters that she and Tom were supposed to change today. It landed on Tom's cart. Along with her tool-belt. He might yell at her, but so what? She was in a good mood and she wasn't about to let anyone ruin it.

After finishing the preparation, Lacy had to wait. Tom would be pissed if she started without him. While she waited other co-workers arrived and headed out again. By now three other Tinies worked in her maintenance hub. She wondered how long it would take before she had only Tinies as co-workers.

Lacy glanced more and more at the clock. By now, Tom was a half-hour late. That wasn't like him. It filled her with dread.

Soon Mister Nielsen arrived. Her boss. Tom hated him. Called him a hack. Lacy could see why. It wasn't just that Mister Nielsen always arrived late. It was the whole deal. Always pushing every work to his subordinates. The rumor was that long gone connections had given him the job of supervisor.

On the way to his office, Nielsen noticed Lacy waiting by Tom's cart. "Why aren't you out yet?"

"It's Tom," Lacy replied. "He's late. I am waiting for him."

Nielsen nodded and headed into his office. Lacy had just picked up her work tablet for some reviewing of schematics when her boss appeared again. "You can go on. Tom won't be coming to work." With those words, he was gone again.

Lacy cursed. Was this it? Was Tom gone? His own prophecy fulfilled? She didn't even like him. Always on edge and hostile towards her. By now she understood why. She wasn't the real target of his anger. Just the nearest conduit for it. And now-

Now her good mood was gone. Even though she wasn't at fault she somehow felt slightly guilty. She placed her hands on Tom's cart. No, it was her cart now. Time to start her shift. With another sigh, she pushed her cart towards the exit.

* * * * *

Lacy was baffled. Her boss, Mister Nielsen, was at work before she arrived? That was strange. Then she spotted a Tiny beside him. Both of them exchanged a few last words and then the Tiny headed towards Lacy.

"Hey there," the newcomer started. "I am Veerle. Guess we are partnering up from now on."

Lacy stared at the offered hand and back to its owner. She looked cute. Northern European pale with bright blue eyes and blond hair. Lacy took an immediate dislike to her. Tom had been right. And now Lacy had to babysit a newly made Tiny. She could see it in Veerle's stance. Still standing like a man. Fresh out of the medi-pod she guessed.

She had seen plenty like Veerle in her month leading up to getting her own apartment. Tinies that were unsure how to act. For them, their new female body unfamiliar and strange. It was hard to believe for Lacy that not long ago she was the same as them.

"Lacy," she simply replied. Instead of grabbing the offered hand, she pointed to the rack with tool-belts. "Grab one and we can head out."

Veerle shrugged her shoulders and did as told. She didn't even bother with trying a belt on. Immediately setting the belt to the widest and slinging over her head. Just like Lacy had learned to do. But right now her tool-belt was on her cart. Where did Veerle pick that up? And why was she giving off this confident grin as if this was the most natural way to do it? Was she mocking Lacy for taking so long to figure out itself?

"Let's get going," Lacy growled.

Only four days since Tom was gone and suddenly she missed him. Which struck her as quite ironic. And somehow Veerle unnerved her. The feeling deepened as the day progressed.

They arrived at the first component to check. A big display panel in one of the arcology's residential areas. Lacy was just about to ask for the right tool when she saw that Veerle already had it in her hand and offering it to Lacy.

At each subsequent task, Veerle had the uncanny ability to predict what Lacy needed. Always offering it with that innocent, yet confident smile that freaked Lacy out.

Before long, their lunch break arrived and Lacy steered her cart to a small secluded common room that she and Tom had preferred to use. Time to eat her salad and forget Veerle for a moment and enjoy herself. Veerle could suck on her protein bar for all that Lacy cared.

But when Lacy glanced at her new partner her eyes grew wide as saucers. Veerle was unpacking a sandwich. How could a newly made Tiny afford-

"Goddamnit, Tom!" Lacy cursed aloud.

Veerle looked up from her sandwich. "Something the matter, Miss Spears?"

"Cut the crab, Tom," Lacy demanded. "I know it is you."

Veerle gave her a lopsided grin. "Tom isn't working for the company anymore. In fact, he doesn't exist anymore."

Instead of replying, Lacy only stared at her.

"Fine," Veerle relented. "It's me. What gave me away?"

"There were a lot of strange things about you," Lacy admitted. "But it was your sandwich that did it."

"My sandwich?"

"No freshly made Tiny could afford one," Lacy explained. "Unless they held a job before."

Veerle nodded sagely. "Well, it was fun to freak you out, but to eat one of those bars would be a price too high.

For a moment, silence settled between both women. Then Lacy nodded. "So, you did go through with it. I didn't think you would."

"I didn't think so either," Veerle admitted. "After our last talk, I couldn't get it out of my head. Did some digging. All those tax breaks and stuff. It applies to every female below the height of five feet and six inches. And I thought if I were already a Tiny then the company wouldn't gain anything by firing me for another Tiny."

Lacy nodded. "That's what I figured too."

"Turns out becoming a Tiny is free too." Veerle scrunched her face. "Provided I stay one for ten years at least. Else I have to pay for it retroactively. They even gave me a VIP treatment at the hospital. Bypassing everyone else in line."

"And now? Did those from HR mention anything?"

Veerle shrugged her shoulders. "I was there yesterday. Making sure everything was documented and my worker's ID was updated. The caseworker was surprised that I did go through with it. I mean voluntary. But aside from that, nothing. I guess it is 'wait and see' for me now."

"How are you coping so far? I mean I can tell from experience that it is a big change."

"Yeah, no kidding. Everything appears bigger. At my apartment, I was thinking the whole time I might fit in a second story. I mean the ceiling is so far away now."

"You'll get uses to it," Lacy promised.

"Well, if I run into any trouble I know who can teach me."

Lacy waved Veerle off. "Me? Teaching you? Because I have that much more experience as a woman than you. Barely one and a half month of a headstart."

"Better than nothing."

"Well, now you are in for it. Might as well make the best out of it." Lacy raised her tin can of soda. "To being a Tiny."

Veerle grabbed her own. "Cheers!"

* * * * *

Lacy glanced at Veerle and wondered not for the first time how people could change. Her partner had been a Tiny for two weeks now and much had changed. For one, Veerle wasn't as hostile towards her as Tom had been. They even developed a friendship.

Of course, the old Tom wasn't simply gone. Instead, it shifted how Veerle's personality appeared to the outside. Gone was the rough and sarcastic mockery. Replaced by dry witty humor that sometimes left Lacy with fits of laughter.

Veerle was as strict as Tom had been with teaching Lacy the fundamentals of their job. Yet now, Veerle trusted Lacy more to do her job and didn't belittle her every third sentence as Tom had.

Overall, Lacy's work environment got better for her. Not so for Veerle. Some of their co-workers belittled her. How she could become a Tiny by her own choice. Others got why she did it. Even voiced sentiments that they might do it too. Yet no one had gone through with it yet.

"Turns out it wasn't blood that came out of the tap," Veerle told her. "Someone had installed a large canister of red food coloring just behind the wall. So much for ghosts."

Lacy had another fit of laughter. Eventually wiping away a few tears. "You do know the best stories, Veerle."

They pushed the service cart into the home base of their department. Time to pack some components for the second half of their shift. As they were already here both of them agreed to do an early lunch before heading out again.

Both women twitched as the door to their bosses office was slammed open. Mister Nielsen appeared in the door-frame.

"Tom!" Nielsen yelled. He was the only one who still used Veerle's old name. "Get your Tiny ass over to HR."

Both looked at each other and Lacy saw her friend and co-worker become pale. Had all her sacrifices been in vain? Lacy grabbed her friend's hand. "I'll be here when you return."

Veerle nodded but remained silent for a moment. Then she cleared her throat. "Maybe I can still argue with them. Could be that they overlooked that I count as a Tiny."

"Wish you luck." Lacy meant it. Somehow the standoffish co-worker had become a good friend in the last two weeks. "Should I finish today's job without you?"

Instead of Veerle, it was Nielsen who answered. By a shout no less. "Like I care. Do what you want!" Slamming the door to his office after vanishing into it again.

"He's more grumpy than usual," Veerle remarked. "If I really lose my job at least I don't have to suffer from him anymore."

"I am sure all will turn out fine," Lacy said after grabbing her friend's hand again.

Both women gave each other a nod and Veerle headed out without another word. It would be some time before Lacy learned of Veerle's fate as HR and the main office was in another arcology.

With a sigh, Lacy turned around to the cart again. She guessed her lunch would be lonely today. The rest of her shift even more.

* * * * *

Lacy was exhausted. She barely managed to finish her shift and to manage to hit all the checkmarks for work done. The second pair of hands really were helpful. Now that Veerle was gone-

Lacy shook her head. It was too early to jump to conclusions. She pushed the cart into the hub and stopped. Veerle was there. Leaning against the wall as nothing was wrong.

"Took you long enough," Veerle commented.

"Well, it was a two-person job I had to do alone."

"I fear you have to get used to it. At least for a little while."

Lacy gasped. "HR. Did they-"

Veerle held her hand up and was just about to reply when the office door of their boss slammed open. Palle Nielsen emerged with a big box under his arm. Full with all the knick-knacks that had littered his office. He threw Veerle such a dirty look, that Lacy was sure it was meant to kill. If that was a thing.

The awkward silence was broken by Veerle. "Did you get all your junk out of my office?"

Lacy twirled around to her friend. "Your office?"

For a moment, Veerle only gave her a big grin and followed with her eyes how Nielsen stomped out of the hub. "Well-" She turned towards Lacy. "HR was all: We like your forward-thinking Miss Lemmens and we highly regard the sacrifices you made for the company. We would like to offer you a position where you can act as a shiny example for the workers around you."

"Oh my gosh!" Lacy hugged her friend fiercely.

"Is that how you treat your new boss?"

Lacy let go and stepped back. Then gave a mock salute. "Sorry, boss. Won't happen again."

Veerle broke out in a grin. "Like hell, it will." She drew Lacy back into another hug.

After a while, both girls separated. "So, what now?" Lacy asked.

"Well, first I have to air out my new office. Get rid off the stink of failure. HR told me that they had Nielsen in their crosshairs for a while. His lazy work ethic made its waves over there. I guess me, becoming a Tiny, is a convenient excuse to get rid off him. I won't complain. They gave me a nice pay raise."

"Good for you." And Lacy meant it. "Still, I will miss you as a partner."

Veerle gave chuckled briefly. "I guess I was right after all. You will train my replacement. Maybe even more than one. HR pretty much alluded to their intention for switching this department to Tiny only."

"A tiny change in company policy," Lacy joked. "I wonder how far they will go."

"Well, a third of the human resource department was Tinies and even one receptionist. It could get far."

"As long as we are on the winning track."

"Oh, we definitely are."

* * * * *

Lacy minced along the hallway. Always close to the wall. She just had to wear heels today. In the growing population of Tinies, it was sometimes hard to stand out. A few revived high heeled shoes. A trend Lacy jumped on. It was rewarding to 'tower' over her fellow Tinies. Even if it was only by a few inches. Lacy even could stomach the drawbacks of this fashion.

Today was a little harder than usual. Not only had she to balance herself on the sandals with six-inch heels, but also a bowl of salad she made. To her, having access to all these ingredients and being able to afford them, was still a miracle. Becoming a Tiny had changed a lot in her life.

Around her were only Tinies. Normal people had a hard time walking these hallways as they were made for Tinies. Barely clearing a height of seven feet. With her heels, she was a little closer than the rest to the ceiling. Not that she minded. She garnered a lot of envious glances from her fellow Tinies. Even though she was still a little unsteady on her heels. Maybe she should have gone with one of her four-inch ones. Those she had nearly mastered.

Eventually, Lacy arrived at a door that didn't stand out in any way to the others. Still, she took a moment to steady herself. Her, pushing the doorbell, marked the point of no return.

Lacy didn't have to wait long until the door opened.

"Lacy," Veerle gushed. "You look gorgeous. Are those heels? How high are they."

Lacy blushed. It was a little much, but by now she knew Veerle could be easily excited. Unlike her old self, Tom, who's most prominent trait had been to be grumpy.

"Six inches. And you look beautiful yourself."

And Lacy meant it. Veerle had found out that going cute fitted her best. Then, she had found out this obscure fashion trend from a region of old earth called japan: lolitas. Lacy wondered how Veerle could stomach having all that lace and ribbons around her but also had to admit it worked for her.

"Come in. Come in," Veerle urged.

Lacy took a few steps in and then something caught her eyes that made her rush towards it. "Is that a display or a window?" One wall was replaced with a view of the outside. It showed the landscape past the dome. It had a fantastic view down the slope of Mount Olympus.

"It's a window," Veerle confirmed. "My new apartment isn't bad, right?"

"It's gorgeous. And so much space." Lacy looked around. "How many square feet do you have?"

"About seven hundred," Veerle told her with a shrug. "What did you bring there?"

Lacy handed her the bowl. "A little housewarming gift. Didn't know what to get you, so I made a salad."

"That works," Veerle agreed. "I am a little surprised you came alone."

Lacy gave her friend a confused look.

"Well, the rumor is that you are quite popular with the other Tinies in the company," Veerle remarked. She placed the bowl in her kitchen and retrieved two flutes of champagne. Handing one to Lacy. "In fact, I think Noreen from HR wanted to ask you out."

Once again, Lacy brushed. "She did."

"And?" Veerle asked as Lacy didn't continue.

"And nothing." She caught her friend's eyes. "I already pursue someone else."

"Must be a lucky girl," Veerle mused. Then she raised her glass. "Shall we toast?"

"Sure," Lacy agreed.

"To being a Tiny," Veerle announced. "And all the benefits that come with it!"

"To being a Tiny," Lacy echoed. And to her surprise, she meant it.

Now her heart hammered. There had been truly a lot of benefits since she had become one. Maybe it made her greedy.

A step forward brought her close to her friend. She wet lips. The beating of her heart echoing in her ears. It was time to see if she could get the last reward for becoming a Tiny.

She caught Veerle's eyes and leaned forward.

---

Chapter 1 - Setting Up

---

“And I am out,” Caden announced after the last few drops hit his tongue. “What about you?”

Nathan gave him an annoyed look. “I get it. Midnight shift. We both were drafted with barely any warning. Now we are out of coffee and the irony is that there are three coffee shops close by, but all are closed.”

Caden pointed behind him. “You know, I could-”

“Run to the break room at the other end of the mall?” Nathan let his hammer hit the floor with a solid thud and looked at his younger co-worker. What a difference five years could make. “Let me guess, the little coffee run would take about half an hour? Enough time for me to finish up. No skirting work. You volunteered for this extra shift. Now you have to deliver. And we are nearly finished anyway. So grab your stuff and get to it.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Caden turned away so Nathan couldn't see his pout. Five years older and Nathan acted like he was his supervisor. Granted, Caden was new to the mall and pretty green behind his ears. Maybe that's why Nathan had easily seen through Caden's attempt to slack off.

The work itself wasn't hard. No matter how much Caden murmured to the contrary. It was some last-minute shipment arriving from BetterU Incorporated. He still couldn't believe it. Parallel universes were real. Even stranger, companies existed that opened up subsidiaries in new worlds. BetterU Incorporated was one of those and they recently announced their first product to be rolled out on Caden's world. Some kind of auto-closet that dresses one automatically with the press of a few buttons.

Eventually, these auto-closets would be in every home. So, they promised. But for now, they rolled out in malls and shopping arcades. Caden had thought it would take a few more months, but then a shipment arrived here. Hence the need to set up one auto-closet overnight.

“I need box thirteen and-” Nathan squinted at the instruction manual. “Privacy panel ten and eleven.”

Still grumbling, Caden fetched the indicated pieces. “Have you thought about using one?” he asked as he held up a panel for Nathan to screw onto the rest of the contraption. “An auto-closet, I mean. They do sound like they could save time.”

Nathan snorted. “The youth of today. I got two hands, don't I? Why would I need such a fancy device?”

“I am not lazy.” Caden ignored the pointed look by his co-worker. “And it isn't for daily use. At least, those first ones in the mall. Just imagine. Jump into one and five minutes later, you are suited up and ready for the opera. A tux that is measured to your body and cheaper than going to a tailor.”

“You? The opera?” Nathan bellowed a laugh. “That's rich.”

Caden rolled his eyes. “It's just an example. Not that I want to go to such a posh event. But I remember my prom night. How my mother fussed around. I would rather have jumped into one of these and get it done quickly.”

Nathan gave a playful slap and squeeze of Caden's shoulder. “Well, looks like you are now able to. I think that was the last piece connected. It's booting up and it looks ready to go.”

Indeed, they had finished up the last few tasks while ribbing each other. The auto-closet took up the whole space where a small boutique used to be. Instead of the storefront, there was now a large sleek display and the entrance to the auto-closet. All the magic happened inside. How exactly was beyond both of them. They had stacked and connected boxes, but most of the functions of each eluded them. There was only one way to find out.

“Well, I don't mind getting out of my overalls,” Caden remarked before stepping to the display. Browsing through it in search of inspiration. “Damn, there are a lot of options. Even Cosplay. Get this, I heard that the thing cleans one up too. No need to shower later. Hey, don't roll your eyes. I am just saying. It would be gross to be still sweaty when getting into new clothes.”

“Whatever you say, guinea pig.” Nathan looked at his watch. “I kinda want to get going. It is late enough. Now, do you really want to go through with this? Either make up your mind or let's tidy up and go.”

“It's these options. There are a lot. How about some casual wear. Uhh, look at those premium features.” Caden pointed at the body modification section. One could cheat with material and science and fake an altered physique. Or they could utilize what BetterU Inc. called “magic” and actually reshape the body. “I wouldn't mind some more pounds of muscles. But there is no way I can afford that price tag. Even with the forty percent they have off as a promotion.” The impatient tapping of Nathan's foot clued Caden in that he was running out of time. “Alright. Cool your horses. I am going.”

A last tap and the program was finalized. The door opened and Caden stepped in. Despite having just built the damn thing, the inside looked different. Boxes had opened hidden compartments and hinted at robotic appendages. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all.

Caden was just about to step back out when the lights dimmed, the door closed, and a soft female voice spoke up. “Welcome to the auto-closet. An exclusive product by BetterU Incorporated. You have selected casual clothing. Evening. Calculating the best appropriate outfit.” A hologram flickered to life before Caden. Showing him in sensible garments for the current season. They looked good too. Even better, they made him look good. “Please confirm the outfit and purchase.”

“In for a penny-” Caden took a deep breath and stepped forward. “I confirm.”

“Acknowledged. Now applying-” The soft voice abruptly cut off into static and glitches. A few syllables repeated like a broken record. Then the hologram before him changed. The new preview made Caden's eyes go wide and the return of the voice didn't help one bit. “Acknowledged. Now applying: Housewife. Era: the sixties. Figure enhancement: selected. Please hold still. Commencing. Step one: undressing.”

“Oh, no. Fuck that! That's not what I wanted.” Caden turned around and banged against the door. “Nathan! Nathan, help! This damn thing is malfunctioning.” No matter how hard he hammered, his shouts remained unanswered. In the back of his mind, he knew of the superb noise insulation. But as panic took over, Caden gave a shit about facts and explanations. He just wanted out.

“Resistance detected,” the computer voice patiently continued. “Initiating rowdy children protocol.”

Metal arms snaked out of compartments. To Caleb, they appeared as animate as snakes. Within seconds, they had coiled around his wrists and ankles. Then lifting him off the ground. Despite fighting, he was dragged to the middle of the chamber.

“Commencing disrobing.”

Lasers danced over Caden's form. For a moment he thought they were just to measure him. But then his work uniform rained to the floor as tiny scraps. Yet no harm had come to him. Not even a scratch.

“Applying figure modifying prosthetics.”

Something was pushed against his butt. It appeared to squeeze it and push from all sides. Yet as the pressure subsided, something remained. A jiggling flesh-like substance that made his butt more pronounced. But the auto-closet wasn't finished. Two more prosthetics were applied. Enhancing his hips. They definitely looked womanly to him now.

Caden had barely stomached the latest development when a flesh-colored band was wrapped around his torso. It appeared to fuse in his back and slowly started to constrict his waist. Just like a corset, Caden reasoned.

“Oh, no, no, no, no!” All protests helped little as two big globes came closer. Despite struggles, they were pushed onto his chest. Sticking there a moment later as if nature had intended for Caden to have big breasts.

“This can't get any worse,” Caden cried out. Only to regret it a moment later. A robot arm aimed the next prosthesis directly at his face. “Get that thing away from me!”

Then he was muffled as the artificial flesh was pressed against his skin. A moment later, he could see and breathe again. But he could also feel the thin material of whatever mask they had stuck to his face. How did he look now? Would he even recognize himself in a mirror?

“This is a nightmare,” Caden whispered and then his eyes went wide. He hadn't spoken in his own voice. What came out from his throat had been higher and feminine. “Some kind of voice changer.”

Caden had been so distracted that the next prosthesis caught him off guard. Something big was pressed against his groin. He dreaded the look down, but couldn't help as the robot withdrew. The area around his groin looked nearly completely flat. He was glad that he could still feel his member under the prosthesis, but it was uncomfortably compressed. His discomfort melted away as the feeling diminished. Maybe the prosthesis had some numbing cream applied to it beforehand.

“What now, you bastard child of Skynet?” Caden asked in his new high-pitched voice as the robot arms lifted him higher. A large ring was placed below him with a thin membrane clinging to it. Whatever the flesh-colored material was, Caden was lowered to it. As his feet dipped into the membrane, it started to coat his feet. Clinging to and slightly compressing them.

Step by step, Caden was lowered further. Ankles, calves, and then up to his hips. For the procedure, the robot arms holding his legs had to let go, but Caden's hope was squashed as the next robotic appendages were already in place to grab onto him again. Now the ring was up to his waist. Then went over his chest and newly acquired breasts. As they neared his face, Caden took as a precaution a gulp of air. Head and arms followed. Then, he could see the aftermath. The membrane now clung to him from head to toe and had taken on the texture of skin. It didn't even look like he was wearing prostheses anymore. All he could see was unblemished skin. The gentle compression of the membrane made him look slimmer. More youthful too.

The only spot spared by the membrane was his scalp as Caden found out when some kind of mechanical hood descended upon it. For a minute or two, he felt tugging on his hair. Caden was unsure what the machine had done until the hood rose again. Electrostatic made his hair cling to the hood for a moment. That shouldn't have been possible, as Caden wore his hair short. Yet now, luscious locks of hair tumbled down.

Caden knew now his body would look perfectly feminine. The next step he both anticipated and dreaded. He didn't want to be dressed, but once he was clothed, he would escape this infernal machine. Then, he could figure out how to undo this madness. But Caden was wrong.

The machine concentrated on his feet next. His nails remained exposed and now, they were attacked. Granted, they were a bit long and he had meant to cut them soon. But the auto-closet had other plans. They were filled down and buffed until even they looked feminine. Caden didn't even know that was a possibility. Just to underline it more, nail polish was applied. A subtle pastel pink. Followed by a clear coat.

“Not my hands too,” Caden whined as a small army of robot appendages homed in on his hands. Here, the auto-closet determined that Caden's nails were too short. After a little prep, fake nails were glued on that added to the apparent length by half an inch. They got a generous coating of pastel pink nail polish. As an accent, Caden got white French tips. Despite that he didn't want them or any of this. Of course, last came a clear coat.

The robots allowed him to examine his hands. As if they were proud to show Caden what they had produced. Or maybe as a distraction. It was fast. Caden suddenly felt his earlobes gripped. Two piercing pains at the same time a split second later. Something was inserted into the tiny holes Caden now sported. Then, the machine released his ears. It was irrational, but Caden tried to look at his ears. Not that it was possible. But his struggle told him that nothing was dangling from his ears. So, they probably had inserted studs into his nearly pierced ears.

“Figure enhancement complete,” the soft computer voice announced. It did so calmly as if the machine hadn't just tortured Caden into a new physical appearance. “Applying selected wardrobe.”

Caden hung limply within the grasp of the robots. He had fought and he had lost. Now, he just wanted it to be over. “Come on. Hurry up you malfunctioning piece of tin-can.”

Panties and a brasserie were first. Caden was no expert, but they looked old-fashioned to him. White with a pearly silken sheen. The straps were wide. Not a modern - or sexy - cut at all. Of course, the garments fit perfectly. Caden refused to be grateful as the brassiere closed and the cups gave his large fake breasts proper support. And the panties only reminded him how trapped his genitals were. Could he even go to the restroom like this?

His pedicured and painted feet were slowly inserted into a sheer nude pantyhose. This might have actually felt nice, Caden reasoned. But this wasn't his skin the pantyhose glided upward over. It was the membrane that squeezed his legs. He couldn't see his encased legs for long as a loose white skirt was pulled out of a compartment and brought in his direction. As it came closer, he noticed the many red roses stitched onto the skirt. It was a simple motif, but one that elevated the skirt even more into the realm of femininity.

Getting him into the top was a nightmare. The chosen one was dark blue with long sleeves and a wide red trim at the neckline. The machine - and the rowdy kids' protocol- didn't trust Caden with dressing himself. Granted, if he would have spotted an opportunity to escape, Caden would have taken it. Hence his arms were guided by a small army of robotic tentacles. All without nicking the soft material of the top.

Caden wondered what torturous garment would be next. Maybe a cardigan or a sweater? Instead, the machine squeezed his legs into ankle boots with a small kitten heel, before announcing: “Applying makeup and styling hair.”

A groan escaped him. Hadn't he endured enough? Wasn't he feminized to perfection? Apparently not, as the machine arrested his head so it could work on his face and hair without Caden interfering. Brushes worked to apply powders to his face, while different brushes and combs tamed his now longer hair. He repeatedly heard the hiss of hairspray while red lipstick was applied. The whole procedure didn't take long, but Caden felt even further humiliated. Each minute he spent inside this machine, he departed further and further from his usual self.

“Styling completed.”

Caden's head was released. Without a mirror, he didn't know what had been done to him. But his hair had been styled into something elaborate. He felt it shift around his neck when he looked around. It must have been pinned up, he reasoned. And then cascading down over his ears and neck. What a strange feeling. A single strand got free - or was supposed to be separate - and came into Caden's view. It was blond, pretty much straight, and transitioned into a big curl near his chin.

“Can I get out now?” Caden asked. His voice was close to a whine. An errant thought rattled through his brain. If he cried, would the makeup run?

“Thank you for choosing the auto-closet by BetterU Incorporated-” For a moment, hope filled Caden. Then the computer voice crushed it in a merciless chipper tone. “And opting into the premium features.”

Premium features? Magic? Caden resumed his fight. Digging deep into his core to find the energy. Throwing every inch of strength he had against the robotic appendages that held him. This was bad news. Prosthetics came off. But if what he knew of the premium features was true, magic would go a step further. The prosthesis wouldn't just fuse to him. They would become part of his flesh and blood. He would become what he appeared to be: a full-blooded woman!

He strained. Fought. Flexed. Nothing helped. Worse. He felt a tingling feeling flooding his body. Followed by warmth. And then, he felt it. The pantyhose glided sensually over his skin. The bra cupping his breasts and the breasts that were being cupped. The fabric of the skirt shifting over his legs. What he didn't feel anymore was his member tightly compacted by the membrane. He felt different down there. Altered. And Caden knew. He had become a she.

Caden barely noticed that the robot arms set her down on the floor. The chipper voice thanking her further for using the services of the auto-closet was a murmur in the background. Caden was shocked. Stunned. The realization of what happened flooded her and drowned out every other thought. The door opened and she stumbled out on wooden legs without really registering it.

“Caden? Is that you?” Strong hands gripped her by the shoulder. Steadying her as she swayed slightly on her feet. Nathan looked as concerned at her as she felt panicked and overwhelmed. “I saw the machine glitch and tried to get you out, but it didn't budge.”

For a moment, Caden hesitated. She wanted to tell Nathan everything. All the machine has done. What it had taken from her. Instead, she buried her face in Nathan's muscular chest and started to cry. It felt good doing so, she had to admit. Somehow, she felt safe.

As Caden calmed down, she noticed that Nathan towered over her. He hadn't always been so tall. Did he grow taller? No, the machine had taken even more from her. It must have happened at the last moment. When magic had swept over her. Yet another thing they had robbed of her.

“Sorry.” Caden pushed away from Nathan. Even though part of her didn't want to. She was a man. Deep down, she still was a man, right? Man didn't break down like this. Revealed how much they are hurt. “I am okay now.” Caden tried to muster up a brave face. “Everything was just overwhelming, you know?”

“Okay?” Nathan sounded angry, but not at Caden. To her relief. “Piece of garbage. What had BetterU built us here? This is unacceptable. Don't worry. We will get you back to your usual self.”

Right then and there, Caden felt a strong impulse to kiss him. But that was wrong. Caden had always been into women. Now, she had doubts this was still the case. It shouldn't be right that they not just dictated his physical gender, but her sexual orientation too. Had they screwed with her mind?

“They better fix me!” Caden said after finding some fighting spirit again. It was slightly ruined by a pout, but she didn't let that deter her. She walked over to a box of flyers. The very same one she had installed not an hour ago. “Please leave a review,” she read aloud and showed Nathan the flier. “They want a review? I'll get them a review they won't forget. And I may get a lawyer. See if they like that.”

While Caden was on fire, Nathan kept his cool. “I don't think we will reach someone in the middle of the night. Maybe we should go home. Get some sleep and in the morning, try to get someone from BetterU on the line. Maybe they can fix it. Must have been a glitch, right? Maybe they can find the error and patch it out.”

“You are right.” Caden deflated a little. More as she realized that if they went home, she would be alone. To face whatever lay in front of her on her own. “This sounds silly but, can I stay with you? I don't think I want to be alone right now.”

There was hesitation on Nathan's part. But when he spoke up, he was strong and reassuring. “Of course. My apartment isn't far. I can take the couch. No worries. But, first-” Nathan grabbed a sheet of paper and wrote that the machine was defective. Pinning it to the auto-closet with duct tape. “We don't want to have others stumble into the same mess.”

Caden gave a nod. She might have been a bit lazy in her job before, but she knew Nathan was dependable. Always thinking of others. It was something she could appreciate. But only now, she really valued it. Nathan was a great guy. And he looked good too. The last thought brought a blush to her face.

Together, they tidied up. Loading their toolboxes and stuff on a small trolley. Caden wondered if her tools had always been this heavy, but Nathan was there as she struggled. Then, they walked out. Neither saw that the auto-closet came alive. It detected “vandalism” and deployed microscopic robots to clean it up. They ate away at the adhesive of the tape and seconds later, Nathan's written note fell to the floor.

Halfway to the exit, a glimpse of a sight made Caden stop. It was her reflection in one of the shop windows. A little hesitant, but curious, she stepped closer. This was the first time she saw what the machine had done to her. It was still her face from before. But noticeably more feminine. With understated make-up. Her outfit looked modest but very womanly. Especially the white flowing skirt with roses.

She spied small pearl earrings on herself. Caden had already forgotten the fact that her ears had been pierced too. In the turbulent events, such a small detail had slipped between the cracks of attention. Or did it already feel natural to her? The hair was a sight too. Piled up on her head and then fell down at the side and back. A classical bouffant hairstyle. That she knew what it was called worried Caden. The hairstyle - and her clothes - looked like from an era long before she was born. This shouldn't be knowledge she'd possessed. Yet, it was there. In the back of her mind. How much had the machine added or altered? At least, she looked cute, Caden decided. Then she immediately felt ashamed at the thought.

Nathan had waited patiently when Caden returned. “Everything alright?”

Caden gave a brave smile. “In a few hours, it will be. Hopefully.”

---

Chapter 2 - An Angry Letter

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Chapter 3 - Party Pooper

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Ranjeet schooled his face. He wanted to appear somber. A last check. His lab coat sat well and his necktie was straight. A deep breath and he pushed through the double doors.

Over forty co-workers waited for him. Their looks were intense. It was eerily quiet as he made his way into the middle of the room. There, he cleared his throat and addressed his subordinates.

“I met with the board.” That in itself was superfluous. Everyone knew where Ranjeet had been the last two hours. “We reviewed the progress of the last few months together. There had been questions, yes. We all know that adjusting patented pre-existing technologies of BetterU Incorporated for new dimensions is always tricky. Not just the physical constants might be different, but the magical constants too. As such, the board has reviewed our progress over the last months and-”

Ranjeet paused. The room was filled with nervous anticipation. Finally, he allowed himself to smile. “We have to go ahead to start production on the auto-closet. Effective immediately. Congratulations to everyone. We are the department of this BetterU subsidiary that managed first to get a product approved. I hear they might even throw a few bonuses around.”

Halfway through his reveal, Ranjeet had to start shouting. Cheers erupted. There was a bang of two champagne bottles opened. The forty-something highly trained technician transformed from propper workers to party animals in bare seconds. A small snowstorm of confetti erupted around him. The glimmer of lights clued him in that they were probably made with magic. Or at least, transported into the air with magic.

They had worked hard the last few months and it was time to celebrate. Ranjeet loosened his tie, before slipping it off and throwing it into the dancing crowd. He took an offered champagne glass and slurped at it while co-workers congratulated him. Of course, this hadn't been a single-person effort and Ranjeet made sure to return every cheer and congratulation.

Celebrations of BetterU employees were always something to behold. Normally, all kinds of magical and technological knickknacks would be used to get the fun starting. But BetterU was new in this dimension. This subsidiary was still finding its footing. As such, the body suit department was the only group able to contribute to the gadget fun. They had been the strongest rival of the auto-closet team. But they were good sports. Sending three of their members over in body suits that were sure to start an orgy.

Ranjeet sighed. Working for BetterU Inc. sure was something. Good pay and great benefits. As long as one didn't screw up, everything was good.

As if the very thought had jinxed it, Ranjeet heard his name shouted. “Doctor Pusapati! Doctor Pusapati! I need to speak with you!” A few took up his last name as a chant, but Ranjeet wasn't wasted enough to not hear the urgency in the voice. He fought through the crowd and arrived at a small man who nervously looked around.

“I am Doctor Ranjeed Pusapati,” he introduced himself. Shouted really to be heard over the cacophony of the party. He eyed the party crasher. This wasn't a lackey from the board. But he had the laminate of BetterU. “What is it? Can't it wait? We are celebrating.”

“Earnest Connard,” the man introduced himself. “Media department. We have reviews!”

“Reviews?” Ranjeet frowned. “What do you mean reviews? We haven't released anything yet. We didn't even manufacture a single product.”

“That's why I am here!” Earnest looked deeply uncomfortable. He probably knew he would ruin the celebration. “There are reviews for the auto-closet. Real ones. I know it shouldn't be possible, but there is evidence.”

This shouted discussion was ridiculous. Ranjeet grabbed the man by the sleeve and steered him to his office. Closing the door, he could at least talk without shouting.

“This better not be a prank.” Ranjeet walked to his computer and woke it up. “Show me.”

“About twelve hours ago, a review site for the auto-closet popped up,” Earnest explained while taking over from Ranjeet and typing in a website address. “We only noticed now as the first reviews arrived. The site itself is not by us, but it uses our web technology. Down to the T. And the reviews. They are legit. They claim BetterU released early promotional booths. Booths that are now malfunctioning.”

Ranjeet browsed through the few reviews that were already posted. One stood out. Someone named Caden had provided before and after pictures. In the latter one, the feminized Caden looked surprisingly chipper. Especially since the review was very negative. If even half of it was true, BetterU was in big trouble. Even more so Ranjeet and his team.

“What's described should be impossible.” Before Earnest protested, Ranjeet explained. “First, the changing of the target outcome. We have multiple safety measures to check for this very possibility. There was never a problem with them in our prototypes. And we triple-checked. Again and again. Every time we added a feature, we made sure the basic safety functions were not compromised. And this-” Ranjeet pointed at the second half of the review. “That sounds like mental changes. A feature we haven't included yet. Even in the prototypes.”

“It's sabotage,” Earnest concluded. “Or fake booths that they just say it is ours.”

While they talked, more reviews arrived. All complaining about the same topics. Ranjeet knew what to do. Even though he loathed the very thought of it. With determined steps, he exited his office. Not bothering to check if the guy from the media department followed. His target was close by. A big red button. One that Ranjeet pressed without hesitation.

A blaring alarm cut through the party. Dancing scientists stopped on the spot. The music cut off only a few seconds later. Even the three orgies disentangled within a minute. Once Ranjeet had everyone's attention, he pulled out the button and the alarm stopped.

“I hate to ruin the mood,” Ranjeet spoke up before anyone stupid enough could restart the party. “We have an emergency. It appears that several auto-closet booths have been installed in various parts of the North American continent. According to witnesses, they are ours. I know. I know.” He held up his hands before anyone could protest. “We haven't even begun production. Yet these auto-closets are out there and they are malfunctioning. We need to get on top of it. Before the situation worsens.”

Ranjeet waved forward and thankfully Earnest got the hint. “This is Mister Earnest Connard. Media department. They found a website that resembles ours where people can post reviews to these auto-closets. At first glance, the site appears to be ours. Even I can't spot anything wrong with it. This means at least a leak in our internal network.”

“Sinclair!” Ranjeet pointed at the co-worker who might look the least disheveled. “Run to security. Get them involved. We probably need an internal audit and-” A collective groan made Ranjeet wince. “I know. I know. No one wants an internal witch-hunt. But the facts remain. Chances are someone from BetterU Inc. is involved.”

He consciously avoided looking at the three volunteers from the body-suit department. Yes, they had been the strongest rival of Ranjeet's own group. But everyone with half a brain cell would know that this would impact them all negatively. And while BetterU didn't hesitate to hire people with less than stellar personal moral codes, they didn't hire fools either.

“McDaniels!” Ranjeet turned to an older woman. She was one of his right-hand men. Or right-hand gal in this case. “Grab your team and comb those reviews. I already spotted a few features of these auto-closets that don't match ours. Compile a feature list based on the reviews. Then evaluate if it could be ours with modifications or if those auto-closets are externally built. If they are from a competitor, we might pin down the most likely suspects.”

“Woodworth!” A young man stepped forward. Ready to hear orders from Ranjeet. “Get down to manufacturing. See if anyone did some midnight tinkering. Check if parts are missing and so on. Everyone else, get busy.”

Suddenly, Ranjeet felt like in the middle of a brewing storm. Not just his subordinates who broke into activity around him. This was bigger than his department. Someone had targeted BetterU Inc. itself. And he had a feeling that this was just the beginning.

---

Chapter 4 - A Midnight Stroll

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Chapter 5 - Mind Your Worries

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Chapter 6 - A Meeting About Cheating

---

Kayode let his gaze roam over the board members. Vultures. All of them. Spies for the movers and shakers of the home office. Why had he accepted this position? Becoming the CEO of a BetterU subsidiary had sounded good. That's why. Even when the subsidiary was in a backwater dimension with high physical and medium-low magical constants. Now, he had a cluster-fuck of epic proportions on his hand.

His migraine throbbed and he doubted the two men before him would help get rid of it. It would probably only worsen. To the right was Ranjeet Pusapati. The lead developer for the auto-closet project. As much as Kayode wanted to blame the man, he wasn't at fault here. In fact, he had been quick to react and tried to get the situation under control.

The same couldn't be said for Arnold Burnett. The security chief of this subsidiary. It had been his responsibility to prevent exactly what had happened. The burly man - usually very self-assured - kept shifting nervously from one foot to the next. It had been his security plan that had failed. Granted, Kayode had signed off on the said plan. But if push came to shove, Kayode would make sure the security chief took the fall.

The CEO eyed them both before giving them both his best office-appropriate growl. “Two weeks since the incident. Where are we? Do we know if it is an internal or external threat?”

“Internal,” both men said immediately. The security chief a little later and made up for it by being louder.

Unfazed, Ranjeet calmly continued before Arnold could spin the whole mess to pin it on him. “The machines in question are the twenty-five internal prototypes we used for testing. As it is protocol, each prototype was transferred to a secure warehouse. Pending destruction upon completion of a finalized design. However, it appears the transfer was intercepted, rerouted, and the prototypes were upgraded.”

Kayode fixed his gaze upon Arnold and stated the obvious. “This should not have been possible. How was it?”

Surprisingly, the security chief straightened up. For once, Arnold appeared to grow a spine. “Internal sabotage. However, the fault lies not with our established security protocols. We traced the rerouting back to an audit account belonging to the home office of BetterU. We just received confirmation from home that this account is fraudulent. There is a spy and rather than infiltrating us locally, it happened at the home office.”

That was awfully convenient, Kayode thought, but kept it to himself. Compromised authentication from the home office could indicate internal strife. Maybe a move for power in the upper ranks. However, Kayode doubted it. He also wasn't willing to let Arnold simply slip from the hook.

“The authorization codes are from back home. But they were applied locally? Is there still a spy among us?”

“Yes.” The answer came promptly. Giving the security chief a little more credibility despite the bad news. “They were used recently. Five days ago to be exact. We monitored our employees discreetly. No leaves of absence or altered behavior since then. The conclusion is that whoever is behind the sabotage still hides among our staff.”

Kayode started tapping his pen on the desk. Not the fast tapping that betrayed nervousness. Slow and deliberate. Like the small impacts of a hammer. “Can you at least narrow down the window of infiltration? A month ago? Two? Recruited locally or from the home office?” On purpose, Kayode added a tinge of annoyance to his voice. Just to keep the security chief off kilter. It was obvious that most of these questions couldn't be answered until the spy was caught, but the CEO had to add pressure. Instead of faltering, Arnold surprised him again.

“After reviewing the findings of Doctor Pusapati, we believe this plan - and the spy - were in play even before this subsidiary was established.” Arnold indicated for the doctor to take over.

“The machines we retrieved display features we haven't implemented yet. Worse, features we haven't even started on yet.” The good doctor lifted a clipboard and appeared to be reading aloud while continuing. “Most prevalent is the ability to alter the mind and add compulsions. As well as behavior. Users of these machines display behavior in line with traditional housewives of the mid-last century. In addition, they have a strong urge to settle down and procreate. The time frame of adjusting these features to the local constants of this dimension suggests that there had been research done before we even arrived in this dimension.”

“Coming here. It's been a trap?” The very thought left an ashen taste in Kayode's mouth. This incident kept getting worse and worse. Now, it appears to be a targeted attack on BetterU with extensive insider information. The perpetrators either knew BetterU was coming to this dimension or even more horrifying, they manufactured it. “Speaking of the machines. Have they now all been retrieved? We are bleeding credibility as long as they are out here.

Finally, a question struck home and Arnold visibly grew nervous again. “We managed to retrieve half. Various local groups appear to have taken the opportunity to snatch a machine or two. Most appeared to be absconded by criminal enterprises, but one might be acquired by the local government. The matter isn't helped by the fact that none of these machines have their trackers active. The silver lining is that they are out of the reach of the general public.”

Kayode kept tapping his pen. When Arnold tried to add something, the CEO told him to remain quiet with a simple gesture. This was a fiasco and he needed time to think. Kayode didn't need to turn around to know the board members were staring at him. Vultures. Ready to pounce if he slipped up.

Having made up his mind, Kayode addressed Ranjeet. “Doctor Pusapati. Your highest priority now is to examine those retrieved prototypes. Every step of goodwill we will try to make will fail if we can't fix their altered minds. Even if we return their bodies to normal, their minds will tell them differently. In short, we would create a whole bunch of trans-women. Let me remind you, BetterU Incorporated was founded in part to end the plight of trans-men and trans-women by fulfilling their dream. We won't go back. Throw your team at the problem. You may even request personnel from other projects if they might prove useful. Dismissed.”

Ranjeet gave a bow. “Of course, Mister Odili”

Kayode waited until Ranjeet had left before addressing Arnold again. “Mister Burnett, I take it the ongoing trouble we have with our communications is part of our troubles with the spy? We appear to be unable to send messages that aren't deleted or altered. We really need to give a statement that goes beyond ‘no comments at this time’. It is just throwing kindling onto the fire. Select a few trusted people. Coordinate with the media department and get couriers out with a gosh darn press release.”

Arnold eagerly nodded. Probably because orders meant that he wasn't axed from his position. At least, not yet.

“As for the spy,” Kayode continued. “We keep their existence on the down low. Revealing this information might raise confusion among the staff. Worse yet, the spy might cover their tracks better. Keep doing the security audit, but let's hope our spy messes up and reveals themselves by accident.”

“Yes, sir. Mister Odili, sir.”

Kayode waved the security chief away. Now, it was up to his staff. A thought that didn't sit well with him. Kayode needed a backup plan if everything else fell apart. But not right now. There was still time.

With a heavy sigh, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He was alone in the room, save for his secretary, Cherry Suckton. He heard the slight clicking of her high heels as she walked around. Instead of asking stupid questions or pestering him with additional troubles, he heard her sliding down to her knees. A moment later, he felt the zipper of his pants being undone.

Even in times like these, it was good to work for BetterU Incorporated. And Cherry was fantastic giving a little oral encouragement.

---

Chapter 7 - Out-Gothed

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Reviewer: MidnightBlossom

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Chapter 8 - An Old-Fashioned Is Still Best

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This was not the kind of neighborhood Landon usually frequented. Neither was the bar he aimed for. The entrance was flanked by two bouncers with broad shoulders and bulging muscles. Their very silhouette told everyone it was better to not mess with them. Barely concealed firearms told anyone perceptive enough that they weren't ordinary bouncers. Same for the bar. Everyone knew this establishment was run by the mob.

Both bouncers glanced at Landon but didn't stop him from entering. He had the genetics and the height to rival them. If only he would spend a modicum of effort on his physique. But that was the last thing Landon wanted. Apparently, this was evident enough and bought him entrance.

The bar itself could have been a cut-out of an Irish bar from any Hollywood movie, but it was surprisingly clean and well-maintained. Landon made a point not to look at the other patrons or their dealings. Aiming straight for the bar counter instead.

The barkeeper looked wrong in this establishment. The twenty-something might have fit in more at a trendy bar downtown with his roguish charm and boyish looks. He gave a nod as Landon sat down on a stool. “Let me guess,” he opened before Landon could say anything. “I am good at guessing the perfect drinks. For you? How does an old-fashioned sound?”

Now, this was what Landon had expected. “A very old-fashioned,” he corrected. “Something around fifty to sixty years old.”

“Gotcha.” The barkeep casually threw a towel over his shoulder and turned towards the passage deeper into the pub. “Follow me. The boss had been expecting you.”

That caught Landon by surprise. “I was?”

Mister young and handsome chuckled without turning around. “Our old-fashioned is quite famous, you know. Many envy our secret ingredient. So, those who had an old-fashioned give us a heads up if someone asks for a referral. That's why we knew you were coming, Landon Everett. And that you ain't police.” He knocked on a door and after a short shout from inside, he let Landon in.

“Here for an old-fashioned, eh?” This was the mob boss, Landon guessed. He looked like one. The rhetorical question was immediately followed by one that wasn't. “You have the money?”

A little hesitant, Landon pulled out the small stack of bills. Placing it on the table. “Five thousand. In twenties. As requested.” It had been a pain in the ass to gather as many bills without raising suspicion.

“Alright.” The boss stood up and indicated for Landon to follow. They left the bar through underground passages and Landon was quickly lost. The mafioso used the time to explain a few things. “If anyone asks, you used the machine on the first day at the Mall De Palma in East Miami. We have arranged for witnesses to have seen you. As you know, the result will be something along the lines of a housewife from the nineteen-sixties. But you can influence the outcome. The prompt you give to the machine. The closer it is to its supposed glitched state, the better it works. You know it will screw with your head?”

“I heard,” Landon confirmed while having trouble keeping up. With his long legs, he should be faster. But because of the low ceiling, he had to hunch over to follow. “Some is kind of iffy, but I've made my peace with it. Could be worse.”

“Good. So far, we haven't had any complaints.” Then the mafioso chuckled. “Well, at least not after.”

They arrived in a large underground room. It would have been spacious if it wasn't for the auto-closet set up in the middle. With it, the room felt cramped.

“Over there is the panel for the options. You got fifteen minutes to set it up and jump in.” While explaining, the boss took out a cigar and cut off the head. He lit it up and took a few puffs before adding: “What are you waiting for? I ain't got all day.”

Landon didn't need a second invitation. He squeezed past the man and tapped the panel of the auto-closet awake. Fifteen minutes was not a lot. Landon could spend hours customizing his new avatars in role-playing games. For what it was worth, the menu was very intuitive and streamlined. It barely took Landon ten minutes before he gave a satisfying nod. All was set. There was only one thing to do. The last step was to first step inside. With a racing heart, Landon entered the auto-closet.

A soft female voice greeted him. “Welcome to the auto-closet. An exclusive product by BetterU Incorporated. You have selected a casual female outfit for a walk in the park. Midday. Calculating the best appropriate outfit. Requested extra: premium features and height reduction.”

Landon nearly giggled. The machine is still proclaiming to be by BetterU Incorporated. Maybe. Maybe not. Landon didn't care. Instead, he followed the instructions. First, he undressed. The machine helped to clean him up. Then, prosthetics were applied. Landon was a little disappointed that the chosen breast forms and hip pads weren't very large. With his tall build, it would look like the endowments of a pubescent girl. But he had to trust the process, right? He had to admit, that the prosthesis for his crotch was uncomfortable, but hopefully that wouldn't matter for long.

At the behest of the machine, he stepped into a hop with a thin membrane of some liquid in it. Being coated with the material felt strange, but Landon vowed to endure.

“Now applying premium features.”

He felt the magic wash over him and suddenly, everything changed. Was the room growing? No, the machine shrank him. That wasn't right either. Shrank her. Landon was no more. Finally, she was Emma. In reality. Not just in her games.

The result wasn't what she had expected. Her “assets” were modest. And she was bald. Maybe she had chosen something wrong at the start? This couldn't be it.

“Applying prosthetics,” the machine announced for a second time. Startling Emma who nearly jumped back as new enhancements for her descended from the ceiling.

Her small pubescent breasts fit perfectly inside a chest shield that was three times the size. Now, this was more like it. Emma approved. While distracted, the machine went ham on her tights and hips. Looking down, she guessed she would have the perfect childbearing hips and a butt to die for. Not what she would have chosen herself, but now that she saw it, she kind of liked it. Maybe that was already the machine influencing her mind. Not that Emma cared. She knew it would happen before stepping into it.

The last step was a corset that squeezed her waist to waspish proportions. It was tight, but Emma knew she wouldn't have to endure it for long. The hoop descended again with the film of artificial skin. Without hesitation, she stepped into it and got coated once more. A wig came next. Long brown hair. Not unlike she had as Landon. But it never had been this long. Or luxurious. She couldn't wait for it to become part of her.

Just on cue, the machine announced: “Now applying premium features.”

Again, the room grew around her. Making Emma feel small. A first in her life. It elicited a giddy feeling within her. But this wasn't the only change. She admired her new body. Sure, the proportions were a bit exaggerated, but that would only help her, she decided.

“Please remain still for the application to proceed.”

Chastised, Emma stopped fidgeting around like a high-schooler on too many energy drinks. She quite enjoyed the pedicure and manicure the machine gave her. For the first time, she would be able to wear painted nails outside of her home. Without worrying about negative comments. She was looking forward to it.

It was a bit scary as many appendages started to crowd her face and hair. Makeup was applied. Not that Emma could see what the machine had chosen for her yet. To her surprise, her hair remained in a loose open style. Not the styled bouffant so many others reported. It was layered and a bit feathery.

Then she was clothed. Emma would have preferred dressing herself, but the machine was surprisingly efficient in applying white underwear. The bra was badly needed, Emma decided. She really had a lot up top. Her feet were guided into strappy sandals with a medium heel. Hopefully she could make them work without falling too often. Then, a dress descended down on her. It was white too with red dots. Those turned out to be red roses. It was a playful, yet innocent design. Perfect for a summer outing.

“Program complete. Thank you for choosing the auto-closet by BetterU Incorporated. Have a nice day.”

“I bet I will,” Emma replied to the disembodied voice. She was giddy with excitement. Finally! She was a real woman. Part of her wanted to strip off this dress and marvel at her new body. But she was a lady now. Such behavior wouldn't do.

Stepping out, Emma got an appreciative whistle from the mafiosi. “Someone turned out fine. And not the usual fair either. Good for you.”

Emma blushed at the compliments that followed as she was led back to the bar. Slipping out of the back rooms, the bar looked the same. Yet she was different. A fact underlined that she was openly checked out by the patrons. The only one who was a bit more covert in doing so was the barkeeper. Emma looked out to the darkness of the evening and had to admit that a light summer dress might not have been the best choice. Maybe she needed something else to warm her up first.

With surprising ease, she walked over to the bar and took a seat again. “Hello again. I think I'll have another drink.”

The barkeep raised an eyebrow. “Another old-fashioned?”

“Ah, no.” Emma gave him a mischievous smile as she straightened up. Giving the barkeep a good view of her new bosom. “The last one sits very well with me, don't you think? I was thinking of something lighter. More fruity.”

“A cocktail perhaps?”

Emma nodded. Surprisingly, for a mafioso bar, she did get a very decent cocktail. “My name is Emma, by the way,” she said as her drink slid over to her.

“Sean,” the bartender replied. Emma could see that he tried to remain neutral, but she could see his interest. “You know,” Sean continued after a few seconds. “You aren't the first customer after an old-fashioned to hit on me. Part of the programming, I guess. I am not really husband material.”

Emma hid a smirk by taking a sip of her drink. “How about boyfriend material?” The rest, she could change later, Emma decided. Sean was hers. She knew it in her bones. What woman didn't like a bad boy in their bed? And while she smiled at him, she idly wondered what their children would look like.

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Scene 9 - Riding On

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“Big Mike! Big Mike! Big Mike!”

Michael “Big Mike” Winston tried his hardest not to appear nervous as he exited the biker saloon while the gang chanted his name. There were quite a few new voices he could hear. And even some of the old ones sounded different. Big Mike's biker gang used to be smaller. A tight little outfit that sometimes dipped into the illegal.

He stopped in the middle of the street. Not that there was much traffic on the remote road. Now it was utterly blocked as the crowd closed in around Big Mike and his chosen opponent. Devon was a newcomer and had barely more than half of Mike's muscle mass. This should be an easy fight. Still, he was worried.

He glanced past the crowd to the small compound where they had hidden an auto-closet stolen from the mall a few months ago. That cursed thing had shattered Mike's peaceful life as a biker. They knew about the malfunction and it netted them some bucks as hopeful fools paid for the privilege to use it. Mike didn't mind as trans-women marched through that thing. But then, Chad had to dare Don to an arm-wrestling match. Loser would use the auto-closet. Chad might have regretted the bet. Charlene didn't. And Don? He got a wife out of it. Big Mike could see them among the crowd. Arm in arm. Rumor was that Charlene was pregnant.

The dares hadn't stopped. His original gang had lost a third of their members to womanhood when they started to expand to other gangs. The current members belonged originally to three gangs and they still had newcomers joining in. Like that Devon and his smirk.

Big Mike had enough. For months now, the gang had urged him to start a match. To claim a wife. He was the odd one out. By now, there weren't a lot of singles left. He was surrounded by happy couples. Big Mike didn't want to settle down. He liked the bachelor life. But if he didn't challenge someone to a match, he might lose all respect inside the gang. That, he couldn't have either.

A table with two pegs on top was carried out and placed between Big Mike and Devon. What the hell was Devon for a name anyway? That lad needed a proper bikername. That's what. Then again, it wouldn't matter in a moment.

Big Mike pumped his arms to get blood flowing and warm them up. The crowd cheered for him. Clearly, he was the favorite. But Devon was calm as he stepped to the table. “Ready?”

A snarl nearly escaped Big Mike. That pup needed to learn manners. He stepped to the table and got ready. Devon's smaller hand nearly vanished inside Mike's paw. Who won was a foregone conclusion.

Samantha stepped forward and laid her hands on the closed fists of the participants. Once, she had been just Sam. And the leader of Big Mike's gang. Now she was the arm candy of the new leader. But by tradition, it was she who counted down. “Three. Two. One. Fight.”

Big Mike was ready. Throwing his muscles into the match. Pushing steadily his opponent's arm down. But not down to the table. That ass was stronger than he looked. Giving nearly as good as Mike gave. It was a fight, alright. Mike nearly managed to push Devon down a few times, but the lad always recovered and pushed back until they were nearly neutral.

“You know the secret to a good arm wrestle?” Devon suddenly spoke up.

“Shut up,” Mike pushed out. His breath was short and he could feel the burn in his arm.

“Strength is important,” Devon casually continued. “But so are stamina and endurance.”

Big Mike couldn't believe it. This half-pint was pushing back. Mike was losing ground. Fatigue had set in. With horror, he realized that this was what his opponent had waited for. Steadily, he lost ground. His last stand was valiant and lasted all but ten seconds. And then Big Mike's arm slammed into the table.

The crowd was silent for a moment and then broke out in cheers. Devon was all smirks again. How Mike wished to wipe it off his face. But punching him would be bad. Worthy of being kicked out. As was chickening out of what was expected next. Big Mike really wanted to call it off. To walk away. But he would lose his face and all respect. Not to mention his membership in the gang. Today was not the day he would hand over his vest.

“Let's do this,” he grumbled as he took off for the auto-closet. The gang split in his wake but cheered louder. To them, it didn't matter who won.

Impatient, Big Mike waited at the entrance of the auto-closet. Pointedly not looking at the panel and what Devon typed in. Whatever it was, Mike knew he would exit as a woman. Styled and behaving approximately how a housewife from the sixties of the last century would do. By now, there was some knowledge of how to bend away from the enforced result of the glitch. But Mike wasn't too keen on what awaited him.

“After you,” Devon eventually said and pointed to the door of the auto-closet that had just opened.

“Why? You want to take a turn after me?” Big Mike didn't wait for that lad to find a fitting reply. At least, he had wiped that smirk off Devon's face.

Mike's transformation came in four parts. The first three were punctured by an application of “premium features”. Probably needed because of his large starting stature. The first part was the hardest. Uncomfortable and bordering on horror. The second was easier and Mike calmed down. Probably due to the fact that the point of no return was behind him. Well, her. The features weren't very womanly yet, but it was getting there. After the second application, Mike started to feel different. Suddenly looking forward to the final result. She hoped she would turn out fine. But what would she call herself? The former Mike thought long about it and it was only in the last phase that she decided. Linda. A classical name. Fitting for a woman of class.

Linda couldn't tell how long she had been inside. Judging by her mental state - and how happy she was with the outcome - her original mind had been twisted into a pretzel. But she had to admit, Devon had taste. She wasn't wearing some wifish dress like so many that had stumbled out of this machine. She wore sturdy boots, jeans overall, and a leather jacket. Not to mention a kerchief wrapped around her head. Less sixties housewife and more Rosie the Riveter. Not to mention that she was built like Rosie too. Not all muscles were stripped from her. In fact, she might be the strongest woman in the gang now. With that, Linda could live.

Stepping out, she pointed behind her. “Booth is empty if you want to take a spin.”

Devon gave her a smirk. No, smile. One quite fitting for someone this handsome. For the life of her, Linda couldn't remember why she had hated it before. She wouldn't mind seeing it more often.

“I am fine. Thanks.” Devon mimed tipping his hat. “You look fabulous. How may I address you?”

Linda was aware of how quiet the crowd around them was. It wasn't a fixed rule that those who had a match ended up together. But the majority did. They all wanted to know if she and Devon meshed.

“You can call me Linda.”

“I see. Very old fashioned, but nice.” That smile by Devon again. She could avoid a blush, but her legs felt a bit weak. “But as we are part of a biker gang, how about we shorten it a bit. How about it, little Lyn?”

“Fine, except-” Linda cuffed him good on the shoulder. “I am not so little.”

“Sure, lil’ Lyn. Sure.” Devon barely evaded the next punch. “And strong too. But strength isn't everything. Wanna wrestle again? See if you hold up better now?”

“Stamina and endurance, eh?” Quite quick, Linda grabbed Devon by the collar. Dragging him towards her chopper. “Sure, but how about we do some different kind of wrestling. In private. Then you can show me how long you last.”

“Yes, Mam’,” Devon dutifully replied. A smirk once again on his face.

---

Chapter 10 - Catching On

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The alarm, that echoed throughout the BetterU compound, was deafening. Annoyed, Cherry hurried after her CEO, Mister Odili. This better not be a fire alarm practice. Though the sound blaring was wrong. Didn't matter. It interrupted Cherry while she had an important one-on-one meeting with Kayode. She didn't even have time to fix her lipstick. One look might clue everyone in that she had been sucking off her boss. Well, the thought of being found out actually got Cherry a little aroused. Not that now was the right time for it.

It was a minor miracle that Cherry could keep up with her boss as he stormed down the hallway. At least, to onlookers. Clutching a clipboard against her generous bosom, each step of her was punctured by the click of her long stiletto heels. And despite prim and proper office wardrobe - smudged lipstick aside - the first word anyone had on their mind when they saw Cherry was Bimbo. Granted, the short tight skirt and half-see-through blouse didn't help dissuade that notion.

“What is going on?” Kayode demanded to know as they came up to a security checkpoint. Arnold Burnett was there. The subsidiary's chief security officer.

How Cherry loved it when her boss was all no-nonsense. Dominating. Powerful. It nearly made her distracted enough to miss the reply.

“The mole fucked up. But it is a mixed success.” Arnold produced a tablet PC and showed it to Odili. Thanks to Cherry's towering heels, she could see it too over the shoulder of her boss. “That's Vincent McNeil. IT department. Unusual high-security clearance. We tracked some suspicious things back to his workstation. But we had to be sure. McNeil seems to be a plant. Local guy, but was hired directly by the main branch. Or so we believed. Took a few months to sync and verify our employment roster with the main office. They don't even have McNeil on file.”

“Good news.” The praise by Odili didn't sound very genuine. He pointed at the improvised security checkpoint. “What's this then and can you shut that damn alarm off?”

“Sorry, Sir, I can't.” The security chief looked uncomfortable, but stood his ground. “Someone tipped McNeil off or we stepped on a tripwire. He is in the wind, but we don't think he has left the building yet. With unknown resources at hand and given what we work on, he can't take anyone or any identity for granted. Hence we have to check everyone while we evacuate the building. Meanwhile, my teams are sweeping the floors. It is only a matter of time until we have him.”

As Arnold explained, Cherry studied the many researchers who went through the checkpoint. She recognized Rylee Stokes - a fellow secretary, but of a different department - as she walked through the checkpoint. It wasn't just a scan of her employee badge. Her retina was scanned. As were her fingerprints. Even her finger was pricked to get a blood sample.

“Do we know if McNeil worked alone?”

The question by her boss drew Cherry's attention back to the conversation.

“He was the only mismatch, but that doesn't rule out collaborators. McNeil could have hired someone locally or bribed his way through the company. Not to mention that there are ways to force compliance. Either by technology or magic. The saboteur already has displayed an aptitude in both.”

“Nail that bastard down and-”

“Let go of me!” The female shout made Cherry's boss stop and turn. So did she. A woman was dragged by security guards closer. It didn't take Cherry long to identify her. “I swear, I am the real me. My name is Rylee Stokes and I work in-”

“Shut up!” One of the security guards yelled before turning to Arnold. “Chief, we found her in one of the offices. She appeared to be unconscious but woke up when we entered. No ID on her and she refused a blood test.”

Before anyone could speak up, Cherry's giggle cut through the dense atmosphere. “Deja Vu. I could swear I saw Rylee just now. Getting through the checkpoint here.”

Cherry had to give kudos to the security chief. Arnold was quick on the uptake. Immediately speaking into his radio. “This is Burnett. Possible inner perimeter breach. The suspect might have assumed the identity of one Rylee Stokes. Stop her for questioning.” The call ended without any pleasantries and he turned to one of the guards that had escorted the secretary to them. “Get a soul scanner. Make sure this is the real Miss Stokes. We can probably rule out a magical transformation. That would have left a large magical afterimage. Our scanners would have picked that up. Given the time frame, probably a bodysuit. That would explain passing the other tests.”

Cherry wasn't sure who the explanation was for. Maybe to appear competent in front of the CEO? She didn't give a rat's ass. All she wanted was to get out and away from the still-blaring alarm. And maybe finish sucking off her boss Kayode.

Arnold listened to his earpiece for a few seconds and then cursed like a catholic schoolgirl. Well, it was pretty profane, but compared to what Cherry had heard before it was pretty tame.

“One Rylee Stokes had just left the compound. We missed her by seconds.” Another few curses followed. Probably just for good measure. “I am going after her, but I am low on manpower and there still might be collaborators.” The security chief went for his radio again. “I am going out with a hunting party. While I am gone, Miss Cherry Suckton is in charge. I repeat, Cherry Suckton of plan B is in charge.”

Cherry's vapid expression vanished and made way for anger. “Bastard!” The target of her ire had already left. It was doubtful he had heard her. That idiot just had blown her cover.

It was evident by how Kayode gaped at her. Life a goldfish out of water. “Y-you are plan B?”

“Yeah, I am more than a nice rack and world-class blow jobs,” she admitted while patting Kayode patronizingly on the shoulder. “Don't take it personally. Nearly all new subsidiaries get a plan B complement. At least for the first few years.”

Plan B - often nicknamed Plan Bimbo - was a rumored subdivision of BetterU Inc.'s security branch. No one suspected a walking sex doll to be an internal corporate spy. BetterU was famous for supplying sexed-up airheads to their corporate holdings. What some people overlooked was that there were a few women who liked to play dumb and sexy, while being mental powerhouses. Women like Cherry, who probably earned twice as much as Kayode Odili. She had all the skills and knowledge a CEO needed. How else would she make sure her charge would stay on the straight and narrow. But her sexy figure and top-notch whoring skills made sure targets lowered their defenses.

“Chantal. Desiree. Meet me in the lobby.” Cherry didn't need some silly radio. Her body was stuffed with more than silicone. Namely high-powered implants.

Cherry had walked a few steps when she heard a weak “What about me?” behind her.

With a sigh, she stopped and turned around. “You? Just look pretty and don't mess anything up. As it stands, your carrier might survive this cluster-fuck. If not? Well, you do have a nice dick. One that I like to suck. Maybe you can become my boy toy. But now, shush. I've got work to do.”

Not sparring Kayode another glance, Cherry walked out. With regret, she reasoned she wouldn't finish that blow-job after all. Men's pride can be easily hurt and she doubted Kayode would forget that she wasn't just a slutty secretary. Which she was. Slutty that is. It took a special kind of gal to work for Plan B. “Stupid Arnold,” she muttered under her breath. “Blowing my cover like that. Just wait until I get my hands on you. BetterU can always use a good new Bimbo.”

---

Chapter 11 - Silver Linings

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Scene 12 - Too Late

---

Cherry tapped her pen on the table. There was a frown on her face and she worried it might leave wrinkles. That's why she preferred the role of Bimbo secretary over being an actual shaker and mover. Too much stress. It's been twenty-four hours since the saboteur escaped. Not much later, Arnold Burnett had gone radio silent. No one had heard or seen the security chief since then.

“At least, we caught him. Finally!”

Cherry turned to Kayode who sat nearby in one of the other boardroom chairs. He was fine as a CEO in peacetime and good as a lover. But throw a crisis his way and he falls apart.

Catching Vincent McNeil in the disguise of one Rylee Stokes hadn't been as hard as Cherry had feared. In fact, her hunting teams had located the traitor just hours after their escape. Cherry had delayed the apprehension. Hoping to see if McNeil made contact with anyone. No such luck.

Silently - over her implants - she messaged Chantal. Her second in command. “Any news on Arnold?”

“Still missing,” came as a reply seconds later.

Of course, there wasn't. Just asking betrayed how nervous Cherry was feeling herself. Something stank and she had a bad feeling. It slowly eroded her confidence.

Just then, Desiree returned with three BetterU security guards. In the middle of the quartet was one Rylee Stokes. She looked different. Gone was the secretary look and she wore nondescript casual clothes. Good for blending into crowds. But not good enough to evade Cherry's teams.

“Soul scan confirms it is not Rylee Stokes,” Desiree opened without preamble. “But something blocks a clear read.”

“Strip her,” Cherry ordered.

Of course, Rylee had plenty to say. How she was the real Rylee. That there had been a mistake. Her protest about being stripped fell on deaf ears.

“A seam,” Desiree remarked. “A body suit for sure.”

“Well, let's get Mister McNeil out of her,” Cherry ordered casually and calmly. Despite feeling like neither.

Except that, once the bodysuit’s seam was popped, not a Vincent McNeal was peeled out of it. Instead, a very confused-looking Arnold Burnett emerged. “Why am I a man? This isn't right. What did you do to me?”

“I don't understand,” Kayode spoke up. “When did McNeil switch with Burnett? Was he ambushed?”

“No. No. No.” It made perfect sense to Cherry, who groaned as she realized how badly they had been outplayed. “McNeil knew our security inside and out. Even the presence of Plan B operatives. In order to extract himself, he needed a decoy. One that knew our security protocols too in order to evade longer. Look at him. Burnett still thinks he is Rylee. No, NcNeil was one step ahead. Brainwashed Arnold to believe he was Miss Stokes and put him in a bodysuit. The real McNeil was in a bodysuit too. Of Arnold. No one screened him as he left the building in the hot pursuit of the supposed saboteur. Then it was easy to slip our grasp.”

“But I am Rylee!” Arnold insisted as Desiree led him away. It would take some time to deprogram him. Depending on the method, he might never be fully the Arnold Burnett they had known again.

“So, now that we know McNeil is in the bodysuit of Arnold-”

Cherry gave a hard humorless laugh as Kayode spoke up. “Don't bother. It's been a day. Who knows? McNeil might have more bodysuits. He is gone. I doubt we will be able to pick up his trail. We have to face the truth. This was a loss. All we can do is curtail any more damage to the image of BetterU. That and hope HQ will be merciful when this is all over.”

Yes, this was a shitshow. Whoever that McNeil was, he better run and hide in the deepest darkest corners of the multiverse. For Cherry wouldn't rest until she had him cowering at her feet.

---

Epilog - Tying Up Loose Ends

---

“Hello?” Vincent poked his head into the dusty warehouse. It was filled with junk and old furniture. Lazily covered with tarps. It looked like the last stop of ten attics that had been cleaned out.

“In here,” a female voice shouted from a far corner away.

Finally, Vincent would learn who hired him. For over two years, he had been deep undercover. Sabotaging the newest subsidiary of BetterU Inc. from the inside. He liked to think of himself as a professional, but whoever had hired him had a deeper insight into the company than he had thought possible. Codes and secrets that Vincent never would have gotten his hands on. Not to mention the warning about a secret task force called Plan B that disguised themselves by acting as dizzy bimbos.

Vincent saw the gate first. A trans-dimensional portal that was quite large. The sight relaxed him. If anything of the plan had really worried him then the fact that he hadn't known how he would escape this dimension. Portals could be detected and traced. Especially in a world like this with low trans-dimensional traffic. But this one looked chunky not by lack of sophistication, but by additions that would make it harder to track.

“Mister McNeil.” A woman in her late twenties greeted him. Offering her hand. Vincent needed a moment to take her in. The dark blue hair certainly was unusual. At least compared to the locals. She didn't look like he had imagined. Certainly not like the mastermind of industrial sabotage.

“A pleasure to meet you,” she continued. “My name is Cassandra. Excellent work, by the way. Well done.”

Vincent felt a little apprehensive at receiving the praise. “I am not sure it is warranted. BetterU is already doing damage control and smoothing things over with the local authorities. I hope you excuse me for saying so, but it feels like all we did was being a small speed bump.”

“On the contrary.” Cassandra gave him a bright smile that somehow reminded him of a shark. A very hungry one. “This battle here was never meant to be won. But for the first time in ages, someone drew blood from BetterU Incorporated. They are in a panic about how deep they have been penetrated. Paranoia is spreading. Accusations are being made. This will slow down their spreading to new dimensions. Now, they will triple-check everything before they commit to any new subsidiary.”

The malice in her voice surprised Vincent. “It may not be right to ask this - being a hired contractor - but it sounds like it is personal.”

“It is.” She brushed a few purple strands of hair out of her face. Hadn't it been blue just a moment ago? Before Vincent could dwell on it, Cassandra threw him a curveball. “What do you think, Mister McNeil? Would breasts that fill H-cups look good on me?”

Vincent frowned. Was this a trick question? Bigger was better in his opinion, but H-cups were large, right? Maybe too large. Especially for someone with a lean figure as Cassandra had. “No, I honestly think that would be a bit much.”

“A little? It's a recipe for back pain!” The ferocity made Vincent take a cautious step back. But Cassandra wasn't done. “You know what they did? Those assholes of BetterU?”

Vincent took a hesitant shake of his head. It seemed to calm her down a little.

“So, imagine this. You are a small-time author who writes short stories in a certain niche. Let's say of a certain transformative variety. But you aren't really good at world-building. One day, you find the means to travel dimensions. There are plenty of good stories out in the multiverse. One just has to find them and bear witness. Then, of course, write it down.”

There was an awkward pause as Cassandra took a few breaths. Vincent eyed the redhead carefully. “How does BetterU play into it?”

“How? How? I'll tell you how!” At once, Vincent knew he had made a mistake speaking up. Cassandra went full force again. “It was only a matter of time. I specialize in stories with a little transformative twist. BetterU Incorporated focuses on mental and bodily transformations. It was only a matter of time before we ran into each other. At first, the interactions were friendly. As friendly as it can get with an over-bloated company scattered over a few thousand dimensions. I pointed out a few worlds I visited that might wait for a company like them and they pointed me to a few worlds with the kind of magic in it conducive to my writing process. All good. Until they hired me.”

Before Vincent could even get a word in, his pacing employer rambled on. “They told me: hey, you are from that and that dimension. We want to expand there. Would you like to write a few stories that highlight the good work we do? Pave the way for the subsidiary they wanted to open. And I thought: why not? Granted, I think they overestimated how large my audience was, but that's beside the point. I did my work and I expected them to pay up.”

“Except these-” Cassandra mimicked squeezing the air out of someone's throat. “Whiny little bastards. Suddenly the magic constant of my home dimension was too low and fickle and the physical constant was too high and unyielding. They blew the whole subsidiary off. And you know what they did instead of paying me? They gave me humongous tits. That's what they did. Except they never asked me if I wanted them. Instead, they tried to brainwash me into thinking that it was my desired payment. But they messed that up too. They made me think I always had H-cup puppies. So, I was confused. Why was I getting something as a payment that I already had? Took me a while to figure it out and reverse the brainwashing. And then? Then I got to planning my revenge! BetterU will rue the day they crossed me!”

Alright. Vincent decided that this little wannabe writer - who cheated to get her story ideas - was totally unhinged. Instead of taking the loss, Cassandra started a war against a powerful multidimensional cooperation that spanned thousands of subsidiaries. Not someone sane would do. Then again, her first strike had been a success of a kind. Speaking of, it was time for Vincent to get what he was owed.

“The lesson here is that for a job well done, one should be paid.” He hoped agreeing with her would keep the madness at bay. “I think we agreed on one hundred thousand trans-dimensional bucks for my efforts.”

“Right! Yes! Uhm.” Cassandra deflated a little. Looking around until her eyes fell on Vincent again. “I have the money ready. Not here, of course. You will get paid, but first I have to extract you to a world where they can't track you. Can't have you talking, you know.”

That sounded a little suspicious to Vincent, but there was some merit to it. He had no idea yet how to escape this dimension without BetterU snapping at his heels. The plan of a crazy person might be better than none at all. He pointed at the stealth portal. “I take it, that is our ride.”

“Yes, but there is more!” Cassandra looked around the scattered items before triumphantly holding up a flier. Handing it to Vincent.

“LARP World?” He asked after a cursory glance at the brochure.

“Yes! We use BetterU against BetterU. You see, LARP world is where they do real live-action role-playing. All save with illusion magic simulating the real thing. Set up to be accessed by mundane people. But here is the thing: you can be anyone! Bodysuits. Everyone is wearing one. From the participants to the hosts and hired actors. No one will bat an eye if we arrive in bodysuits and no one cares where we go after the event. Thousands of portals in and three days later thousands out. All anonymous and the best thing is: no one will notice if we take a different portal out than we took to get there.”

“That's kind of smart,” Vincent had to admit. Not bad for a crazy person. Though he wouldn't go so far as to call her a mad genius. “Where are those body suits?”

“Right here!” Cassandra heaved up a large crowbar. For a moment, he feared her taking a swing at him. Instead, she pried open a large crate. Triumphantly, she withdrew two female bodysuits. Elven, from what Vincent could see. One with big tits and the other nearly flat-chested.

Vincent blanched. “Why didn't you get a male one for me? I prefer to avoid female bodies if I can help it.”

Cassandra looked annoyed. “Last week, I had two male bodies. This week I have two female ones. If one books at the last minute, you get what you get.”

He wasn't happy, but Vincent had to admit Cassandra had a point. “Fine. I guess I can stomach one weekend as a woman.”

As he reached for the body suit of the flat-chested elf, Cassandra swatted his hand away. “Didn't I just tell you that I have trauma based on past experience with big tits? Even writing a whole serial only helped a little. You take that one.”

Even biting in lemons would result in less of a frown as Vincent now displayed. “This is getting worse and worse,” he mumbled under his breath, but dutifully grabbed the body suit. After a weekend in this, he might have a trauma too.

Cassandra wasn't shy about stripping and climbing into her body suit. He caught a last glimpse of her pink mane and then she became an elf. Blond, blue-eyed, and not much up top to speak about.

Vincent's was the opposite. She had long legs, he noticed as he stepped into the body suit. The butt was quite a bit larger than his own. Pulling the suit up to his waist, he definitely noticed the wide childbearing hips. Getting the suit over his shoulders was a struggle. Courtesy of the large endowment up top. In went his head and soon he looked out of green eyes and past a curtain of black hair.

“Here.” Casandra - already dressed - handed him some skimpy clothes. “Your role is that of Princess Mesyndia. On her way to her betrothed. Don't look so gloomy. It is just a role. You won't have to do anything you don't want to do. Just act snotty. Let two and a half days pass in relative comfort and then we can portal out.”

“Where I will get my money,” Vincent concluded. Damn, he sounded strange. All womanly and husky.

“I am a sucker for happy ends,” Cassandra replied instead of giving a straight answer. She stepped to a console beside the portal. “Ready?” On her command, space-time ripped open and gave a peek into a different world. Vincent saw a bright and sunny meadow. And Cassandra who took a bow. “Ladies first, my princess.”

Rolling with his eyes, Vincent stepped through. The world for the LARP gathering really was a little paradise. It wasn't too warm or cold. The weather was perfect too. Not a cloud in the sky. He could see lots of trees too. But no other LARPers.

“Is it far to the-” Vincent fell silent as he turned around and saw no portal. That was expected, but the absence of Cassandra was more worrying. “Cassandra? Hello?”

A rumbling alerted Vincent that he wasn't alone after all. A small green mound started to move. Then he could make out arms and legs. At last, a face with tusks in the corners of the mouth.

“Who dares wake up Bokborsch? Chieftain of the black river tribe! Show yourself!” And then, Bokborsch looked down on Vincent, who was easily two heads smaller. “Pretty little elf lady. Bokborsch doesn't mind being woken by you. You heard of Bokborsch?”

The orc - Vincent was pretty sure it was one - started to flex muscles. And what muscles they were. Huge and defined. Just the way Princess Mesyndia liked it.

Vincent shook his head. What was wrong with him? He wasn't into dudes. Especially big green ones. And for a moment he had slipped too easily into the role of Princess Mesyndia. That was worrying.

“Cassandra?” Vincent tried again. It wasn't even a shout. More a desperate whisper of a plea.

“Is that your name, little one?” Bokborsch inquired, while not even stopping to flex his muscles.

For a moment, Princess Mesyndia was mesmerized again. But Vincent snapped out of it. Was it a real or maybe one of the LARPers? And what was wrong with Vincent, that he was pinning for some stupid orc?

Vincent decided to play it safe for now. “No, my name is Princess Mesyndia.”

“A princess? I am a chieftain. That fits!” Bokborsch shouted out. It made nearby bushes shiver in fear. “Want to be my wife? We have lots of babies. Strong like me. Beautiful like you.”

Princess Mesyndia could already imagine it. Her belly big and round. Children - half-orc and half-elf - playing in the fields. A longing sigh escaped her lips. This time, it was harder for Vincent to come back to himself again.

That simple fantasy was worrying. He didn't want to be a woman. Or pregnant. Sure, he had a little pregnancy fetish. But on others! Maybe it was a prank by Cassandra? She had determined the stereotype the modified auto-closets had to enforce. But Vincent couldn't help himself and added a little mental twist. The need to procreate. The same need he now felt.

Vincent was about to give a nervous laugh when something else dawned on him. Quickly, he grabbed for his back. There was no seam. The body suit should have one, but he couldn't feel his. Either the body-suit had sealed permanently or this world didn't support the existence of magical body-suits. This meant Vincent was stuck in this ridiculous body and these nefarious urges!

He didn't need to ask why. The reason was quite obvious. Vincent was a loose end. Hadn't Cassandra admitted she couldn't let him fall into the hands of BetterU Incorporated? He was betrayed. The irony of it all wasn't lost on him.

“Princess sad?” Bokborsch asked. His voice was surprisingly soft. “I can make Princess happy. Make wife. Have lots of children!”

And then a new part of Bokborsch rose to the occasion. Lifting his loincloth and soon revealed itself in all its glory. It was the most magnificent dick Princess Mesyndia had ever seen. At once, she felt a fire in her own loins. Arousal flooded her. Thoughts about Cassandra or being Vincent escaped her. There was simply no space. Just a burning need.

Five minutes later, Mesyndia had been carried to the chieftain's hut and was busy getting the brains fucked out. Their lovemaking lasted for hours and as they parted, it was dark outside.

“Fuck you, Cassandra,” Mesyndia whispered as she snuggled against her new husband. But there was no fire behind it. Cassandra would have called it a happy ending. Vincent would have called it a betrayal and tying up loose ends. But both weren't there. Only Princess Mesyndia. And she already dreamt of the large family she would have.

The End

---

A word by the author.

---

Hello Readers.

In the last few years, I have been asked by quite a few people to do commissions. Now you know why I don't do that anymore. Past trauma. Burned fingers. Whatever analogy fits.

I hope this stops the many companies requesting collaborations. No, Bikini Beach, I am not going to write about your special upcoming Easter Egg hunt or the many wet t-shirt contests. No matter the offered sum or other ... benefits

And please, all of you who try to get me to advertise your Medallion of Zulo distribution. Cheap fakes with shoddy altered enchantments. And wasn't the purpose of the original Medallion of Zulo to be discovered randomly. So, don't try to bring me into your scams.

And for the love of the goddess, stop trying to hire me as a ghostwriter for memoirs. I am looking at you, SRU Wizard. Besides, didn't you already have someone who did it? Never mind. I don't wanna hear the answer.

So, yeah. I am not up for commissions. Oh, and another thing I probably have to include for legal reasons:

Disclaimer: Cassy_Bee is totally not traveling to different dimensions to retell real stories of people getting gender-bend without giving them royalties. I mean, multiversal travel is not a real thing. Totally.

Anyway. That's everything this time. Thanks for reading.

AND FUCK YOU BETTERU INCORPERATED!!!

Hugs and kisses,
Cassy

PS.:
This story was voted for by my readers on my discord.
If you want to influence what I write next join my discord server here: Cassy's Library

This diary belongs to Cody Swanson.
If you find this then please return it to :
3521 Beach Road, Deerhead Harbor, Maine/Hare Island

12/8/2019
Dear Diary,
Tommy was raving on and on about lights in the old Beckstein-Manor. No one believed him. I mean that building wasted away for the last century. Ever since that family of German migrants gruesomely died. At least, that is the legend. No one in their right mind would try to live there. Not to mention that it would take a fortune to restore the manor to its old glory. Still, Tommy is pestering us to check it out. I hope he forgets the whole thing.

12/12/2019
Damn Diary,
no one calls me a chicken shit and gets away with it. Tommy said the others and I are too scared to check out the Beckstein Manor. As if. Tomorrow after school we will prove him wrong.

12/13/2019
Shit. Shit Shit.
This was a huge mistake. Getting onto the estate was easy. There isn't much left of the wrought iron fence. The front door was still intact. Not that anyone bothered to lock it. From the inside, the manor didn't look as bad as we would have thought. And that was our mistake. We had barely a second of warning. There had been that cracking sound and a moment later a big chunk of the floor gave way. Taking Spencer with him. Thankfully he was fine. Getting him out was another matter. Took ages. Tommy wanted to explore more. But we shot him down. We were lucky the first time. At least Spencer got a little trophy from this adventure. Some old journal he grabbed from the cellar.

12/16/2019
Dear Diary,
Spencer is obsessed with this journal. He can't even read it. Some ancient language or maybe it is written in code? We aren't sure yet. There are a few diagrams, but they don't make much sense. He took a nasty tumble at practice today. Let's hope he forgot all about this stupid journey when the next big game is getting down.

12/17/2019
Shit, this is scary.
Writing this in the candlelight of all things. I woke in the morning to a sound of loud explosions and crashes and whatnot. It was pitch black and still in the middle of the night. The lights weren't working, so I had to use my phone as a flashlight. The rents wanted me to stay inside but screw that. I had to know what was going on. So, I followed them outside. Nothing could be seen aside from our neighbors coming out too. A whole lot of confusion until it dawn. I remember my mother gasping and then pointing towards the Astare bridge. The only connection to the mainland. Once a half-mile long. Now, not even a hundred feet. The whole middle of the bridge was gone. My father explained this was the reason for the blackout. The bridge had not only connected traffic to the mainland but also power and landlines. Without it, we were back in the stone age. Well, not quite.

School was canceled, which wasn't a big relief. To be honest, I could have used the distraction. I spend the day with Spencer and Tommy overlooking the affords of the officials to get everything in order. They assured us that it won't get too bad. The harbor was still up and running. Old Mike and his crew ferried some generators and supplies over from the mainland. Everything else might take a while. Internet was out as was cell service. Life is going to suck for a while. Of course, the adults had their priorities straight. They assured us that school tomorrow wouldn't be canceled.

12/18/2019
Dear Diary,
Spence had been on edge all day. At lunch, I took him to the side and tried to find out what was up. That fool thinks he caused the bridge to collapse. Get this. According to him, he was still up at night studying that stupid journal. He read out aloud a passage just moments before the bridge went bye-bye. Then he tries to sell me the idea that he had unleashed a curse. Ha! No way. Maybe I need new friends. Mine are all acting strange lately.

12/19/2019
Hey Diary,
I visited Doc Johnson after school today. Had this itch all over me that I couldn't shake. Especially on the chest. Turns out I wasn't the only one. Half the town had swung by. Doc couldn't explain it besides allergies. I don't buy it. Why now and allergic to what? Turns out I was the sucker for finishing school first and then visiting Johnson. The drug store was out of creme or anything that could have helped with the itch was bought out. Mom promised me she would make some homemade concoction. I am not holding my breath for that one.

12/20/2019
I am telling you Diary, Christmas will suck this year. Old Mike's trawler broke down. As did a few of the generators. We still have a handful of dingies and a few boats from St George will pick up the slack. So I can't understand the panic. Of course, Spencer is raving on and on about that curse again. Trying to recruit us to find out more. Well, he can. I rather find something against that itch. Mom's salve isn't helping. Maybe even making it worse. Okay, I admit. The skin on my chest isn't itchy anymore, but it feels now taunt and stiff. Very strange.

12/21/2019
Dear Diary,
Tommy came by today. Asking for some of my Mom's salve. I would have ridiculed him if it wasn't for his hand. The skin looked strange. Artificial. He looked at me confused when I mentioned it. To him, it looked normal. What had him freaked out was the stiffness. He hardly could bend his fingers anymore. He tried to visit Doc Johnson again but saw the futility of it. Poor Doc was swamped with patients waiting. It looked like the whole island had now the same mysterious itch.

12/22/2019
I am freaking out, Diary. We all are. The mainland is gone. Not concealed by mist or the likes. Everything is gone. There is only the ocean. It is as if we had drifted out of the Penobscot Bay. Friends and neighbors walked around the island and we tried to see anything but water. Metinic Island? Gone. As was Matinicus Isle. All we see is the ocean and it freaks the hell out of me.

12/23/2019
We closed all the seaside blinds as we all are shaken, but Mom takes it the hardest. She was starring out the ocean for hours. We are now helping her make her salve. Not that it really helps, but half the town is asking for it. Dad and I spend the day in the sparse woods on the island. Hunting for herbs. That or breaking people out of a trance. Many just standing on the beach and looking. Heck, I can understand them. To see this changed view is unnerving. Even menacing. As if this vastness of sea stares back at you.

12/24/2019
Fuck, Diary. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Excuse the language, but slowly I think Spence is right. The island is cursed. We are cursed.
Tommy came by today. Took me to the side to show me something. He slowly undid the gauze that he had wrapped his hand in. I would never have guessed what was beneath it. His hand was changed. It looked fake. Like painted porcelain. But worse was the joints of his fingers. They weren't human anymore. More like a doll. What are they called? Ball-joints I think. And here is the kicker. He could move them, his fingers. And despite the artificial look, he still had sensations in them. He was oddly calm about this change. Despite me trying to tell him how fucked up this was.
It put me on edge for the rest of the day, but fate wasn't done kicking me in the nuts. Mom asked about those lumps that pushed out my t-shirt a bit. I was confused. What lumps? So I walked to the bathroom and undressed. And Mom was right. I had lumps. Small mounds of- Not flesh. They were like Tommy's hand. Like painted porcelain. I hadn't even noticed the change. I knew I should have panicked right then and there. But here is the thing. They felt natural. Right. Well, mostly. In the back of my mind, I couldn't change the feeling that they should be bigger.
Like the breasts of a girl. Which was an absurd thought, right? Boys don't grow breasts. They just don't. And don't girls have bigger nipples? Mine were hardly existent. It took me ten minutes of inspecting before I even noticed. I didn't have any. Not anymore. Their presence vacant save for the spot were they should be painted to represent them.
I was changing. The town was changing. But worst of all, I felt in my bones it would continue. The question was if I would even notice the changes to come.

12/25/2019
Merry Christmas, Diary.
Or not. To be honest no one is in the mood. We all are freaked out. Some even acting insane. The Hendersons next door are packing their things. When I asked where they are moving they said to Beckstein Manor. Who gives up their home for a run-down ruin? I sometimes don't get people.
Maybe it is the curse. I don't know if Spencer told anyone else about the journal and that he read it aloud. I had to find out and decided to visit him. That plan only sounded good on paper.
It was Spence' Mom who answered the door. Told me Spencer wasn't feeling himself. Boy was she right. Slacker Spence was cleaning the house. It looked polished as heck which was strange in itself. Spencer looked weird too. Somehow he had grown his hair out in just a few days. Heck, it even reached down to his butt.
Questioning him was futile. He was always mumbling. "Gotta clean. Everything needs to be tidy. The mistress is watching." Stuff like that. Really unnerving. I asked him about the journal and he only replied: "Everything needs to be where it belongs."
I think he had brought it back to the manor. Where exactly? Who knows.

12/26/2019
I am telling you, Diary, the town is turning into a ghost town.
Most have moved up to the manor and I can't rule out that we will be doing the same too. Mom is still constantly starring out into the ocean. It doesn't matter that she stands in the middle of the house. Starring at a wall or closed blinds. She says the ocean is still starring at her. Dad says maybe moving away from the beach might be best.
I know what that means. There is only one place away from the beach. Surrounded by a small forest is that cursed Beckstein Manor.

12/27/2019
Welcome to your new home, Diary.
It was a struggle to get here. We decided to move in the early morning and were one of the last families to do so. We packed only basics but I still struggled with it. Dad remarked that I lifted things strangely. Turned out I couldn't bend very well at the waist. Hardly at all. I later looked and nearly my whole torso was this strange porcelain-like material. I hadn't even noticed. The bumps on my chest are bigger and my waist narrowed down considerably. I have a feeling where this will lead, but I hesitate to speak it aloud. Or even write it down here.
Somehow the manor wasn't as run down as I remembered it. It was probably fixed up a bit by those who moved before us. The gaping hole in the foyer was gone. Which reminded me of the journal. If Spencer really put it back where he found it then I had to find a different way into the cellar.
For now, my parents and I staked a part of the dining room as our new home. Despite being a big house, the manor is claustrophobic. Too many people that seek shelter here. But from what? The ocean? Somehow I feel we all are walking into a trap.

12/28/2019
Things are getting strange in here, Diary.
People have found a new wing of the manor. Which doesn't make sense. It wasn't there before. Houses don't just grow overnight. But what choice do we have? A few stragglers arrived today and what they said didn't make sense. They said they traveled for over an hour through the small forest surrounding the manor. The very same path that hadn't taken us more than ten minutes the day before.
But frankly speaking, my own changes are more alarming to me. I can bend my waist again. Which isn't as good as news as it should be. Just like Tommy's hand, my waist is now a big piece of a ball-joint. Artificial. Fake. Yet, I can still feel every inch of it. Anatomy so strange, but yet familiar. It freaks me out. It nearly has crept down to my legs and junk. Will it be gone soon? Is there a chance I won't even notice?
I took the time to walk around. Trying to notice changes in other people. Tommy's arm was like a doll up to the shoulder. He wasn't the only one. Most teenagers had extensive changes. One or two limbs just shifted. And I was sure that those teenagers who hadn't changed limbs were like me. The change is hidden under layers of clothes.
Spencer somehow was the worst. When I found him and his mother, she was lamenting that he didn't recognize her. Personally, I was more alarmed by the striking look of his face. It was like his face was swallowed by porcelain. Like a Venetian mask that slowly crept lower and lower. Spencer didn't talk. I wasn't sure if he even could. His expression was frozen like that of a doll. But he was still cleaning. Allways. Without tiring or taking a break.
The adults showed signs of change too but to a lesser degree. I swear Dad has a limp that wasn't there before. But I couldn't bring myself to ask. Not after fate had another gut punch in store for me.
Mom urged me to eat, but I wasn't hungry. Hadn't been for days. In fact, I couldn't recall when I had last eaten. Do I even still have a stomach?

1/1/2020?
Happy new year, Diary.
At least, I think it is a new year. The days started to blur together. I can't recall when it had been night or day. Looking out, the manor always seems to be shrouded in twilight.
I spend most of my time down in the cellar. Down there it is like a labyrinth. Corridors and rooms that surely have to span the entire island. Still haven't found the journal. Progress exploring seems to crawl to a stop. I had to take a long break when my legs between tights and hips froze up. After a small eternity, I could control them again, but I knew they would now be ball-joints. I haven't looked. Too afraid to find out what else had changed.

1/?/2020
What day is it, Diary?
Can you tell me? I do not know anymore. But I am now convinced that the answer doesn't lie within the manor. Maybe the past would give me clarity. Stumbling through the manor to get to the front door was frightening. The building kept growing. So much that I hardly met anyone on my way there. And those that I saw were oddly dazed. Staring into space or lost in cleaning duties. For a moment I felt it too. A spot of dust that urged me to grab a rag and clean it up. But I prevailed.
Stepping outside was hard. The forest loomed like a hooligan in the twilight. Spindly trees with branches that reminded me of skeleton arms. How long did I stand there? Urging my feet to move on. Eventually, I did.
The woods weren't like I remembered them. Step by step I dragged myself along the path. Fitfully glancing at both sides. This forest reminded me now of all the old fairy tales. Not those with happy ends that Disney sold us. More in tune with the brother Grimm's. Those who rarely guaranteed a happy outcome.
As the trees grew sparse I nearly turned around. The view was so surreal. The ocean had indeed come for us. Claiming our town. Barely the roofs could be seen of those houses that used to be near the beach. My own home lost beneath the waves.
The main road was still visible. Barely. It was not too late. I could still make it to the library. There I hoped to find answers. To find out what happened in the past.
Dragging myself through the flood was hard. The water around me churned and my fantasy ran wild. Told me of beasts that would snatch my legs. Would drag me down.
Down.
Down.
Deep into the abyss.
When I reached the library the water lapped at my hips. There was not much time. Thankfully I knew where I had to look. The old tragedy of Beckstein Manor. Surely that had been the origin of whatever curse that toyed with this island.
What I found was not a lot. Speculations. Wild guesses. Was the family Beckstein even dead? They found the father. Shot in the head. Pronounced suicide. The newspaper clips were vague.
Then a clue. One so horrifying that it caught my breath. Or would if I could remember when I last felt the heaving of my chest. The mother, lady of the house, was an artist. The strange craft of making dolls and puppets. Her favorite medium? Painted porcelain.
Was she the source of the curse? The perpetrator? Or maybe the victim? The last newspaper clipping revealed a frightening detail. Mother and children never had been found. But the father, the one who shot himself, lay beneath life-sized replica dolls of his family.
By now the waves gnawed at my waist and I knew my time was running out. I grabbed what I could and put it into a folder. Then I made my way out. Stubbornly I refused to look to the sides. Where houses broke away and drifted off into the blue. My eyes were glued to the forest. The earlier fear was forgotten. My heart knew that it would stand against the waves. I would be safe there.
As I reached the trees and left the sea behind, I ran. Clutching those spare findings with both my arms to my chest. Onward I ran and ran. How long I couldn't tell.
The last stretch opened before me. The parody of a garden. Silhouettes moved along withered remains of grass, shrubbery, and flowers. I passed a few quite close. Dolls. All of them were dolls. Female. Poised. Perfect. I did not know where that thought came from, but it felt right.
I only stopped running as I came face to face with the main entrance of the manor. Solid oak doors, twice the size they used to be, stood in my way. I tried to reach for them, but couldn't. My arms didn't budge a little. Still clutching the folder to my chest. Looking down, I saw porcelain hands.
My thoughts interrupted as the doors opened. Dolls, dressed as maids, beckoned me in. The foyer had changed, but I hardly noticed. It was not the new grand staircase that drew my eyes, but the person who stood on top. The mistress of the manor.
I still remember her words. "A feisty one. How amusing. But not for long. Hurry to your quarters and be ready when I call." Her voice was of haunting beauty. Perfect. Just like the mistress. Eternally preserved in porcelain.
I never walked these floors, yet I knew the way by heart. My feet carrying me to a small chamber. Opened by a maid. A doll. A sister?
And there I found you, my dear Diary. Had you been waiting for me? I am sorry it took so long. For my arms and hands to finish changing. So I could write once again in you.

?/?/????
What time of day they came for me I couldn't tell. Fellow maids. Dolls. Perfect images of female beauty. They looked familiar despite seeing them really for the first time. No words were uttered. They didn't need to be. Their lips were frozen in a perfect coy smile. Just like mine.
They led me to a room filled with uniforms of lace. Black and white. The colors of service. I disrobed right there. What use had I for them? They were forgotten as I caught the sight of a mirror.
In its reflection, I saw dolls. All neatly clothed save for one. It took me a while until I understood. The naked one was me. My sisters came to help. Offered garment after garment. Until there was no difference. I was them and they were me.
Without a word, but with an understanding I made my way to the main office. There, behind a massive table of Mahagoni wood, my mistress waited for me.
She was waiting there with an old friend. You, my diary. I heard her words deep within my soul. I knew the truth. It was time. The moment to break away with the last string that tied to my past. I had to burn you, Dear Diary.
I joined a procession of my sister. All heading for the gardens were a mighty bonfire illuminated the twilight. Here, my diary, was your end to be. But as I came close to handing you over to the flames sacrifices of my sisters caught my eye. One especially. An old journal. Had I seen it before? I was not sure. But as flames claimed page by page on resisted long enough.
Strange words etched themselves in my brain. Or did they remind me? Of a rhyme? Never spoken. Never heard. But of meaning, that I was sure. The urge was there. To speak them again. But how could I? My lips unmoving. Frozen in porcelain. No lungs to call my own. No breath to ever take again.
I will entrust them to you, my old friend. And cast you to the sea. And may those waves spare you long enough that someone else will see. To utter those words and break us free.

"Nolan! Wait up!"

Nolan turned around to see Elvia Jacobson trying to catch up. It was confusing. They ran in different circles. What could she possibly want?

"It is Nolan, right?" Elvia asked when she caught up. "Not a new name yet? I mean- Let's start over. I heard you came out as transgendered. Is that right?"

"Damn, news travels fast," Nolan remarked. "Yes, I came out. And it is still Nolan for now."

"How are you holding up?

"I am fine. My parents support me. As does the school's staff."

"That is good to hear," Elvia remarked. "Do you got any game plan for your transition?"

Nolan was a little concerned. Why was Elvia asking all these questions? Intruding on her private matters. Then again, Nolan's plan was awfully simple. "Picking up any side- and summer-job I can get my hands on. With the support of my family, I may be able to afford a magical transition by a licensed magician when I turn twenty. Twenty-one latest."

Elvia nodded sagely. "A good plan. But what about non-licensed ones?"

"What?" Nolan asked. "Insert on Craigslist? That does sound to me like a recipe for disaster."

Elvia gave a chuckle. But to Nolan, it sounded a little fake. "Oh, no. You see there are several 'in training' magicians at our school. Some day they might get a license and charge an arm and a leg. But now? They try to gain experience and might do freebies."

Nolan thought for a bit. This option had eluded her so far. She hadn't even known that a few magic-users attended her school. This might offer a faster way to ditch her stupid male body and have one she was meant to have.

"Do you know who is one?"

"Well, as it happens I am one," Elvia cheerfully revealed. "And yes. If you want I can help to bring out your true self. Free of charge."

"That is fantastic!" For a moment Nolan meant to hug her but then decided against it. Doing so without permission was bad. Elvia had no such qualms. Pulling Nolan in and giving her a heartfelt hug.

"W-when can we-"

"Eager to get started?" Elvia asked. "Don't worry. We can do it right after school."

"Really?"

"Really. So you might start picking a new name."

"I already have," Nolan replied. "I was thinking Nelly. It is close to my current name but girly."

"I like it," Elvia said. "So, Nelly. Tell me how you envision your female dream body."

Together they spend the rest of the walk to school making plans.

* - * _ * - *

Nelly was on her way to the cafeteria when suddenly someone hooked herself around her arm and pulled her aside. To Nolan's surprise, it was Yvonne Smith. Cheerleader and one of the most popular girls at the school.

"Nelly, right?" She asked, but didn't stop for the answer. "I heard you've been talking to Elvia. Listen. I know you want a female body. But, Elvia? You know she is a witch, right?"

"Y-yes," Nelly barely managed to get out, before Yvonne continued.

"But you don't know what type of witch she is. You see, each witch has a source of some kind. Hers is from hell. Yes, she made a deal with the devil."

The news nearly crushed Nelly. The whole morning she had looked forward to becoming a girl. Not just in spirit and soul, but the body too. Now her dream vanished in a puff. She certainly wouldn't sell her soul to gain her ideal body. Not if she could wait a few years and pay for one in cash.

"Don't look so down," Yvonne continued. "Look. Not every witch is in bed with the literal devil, you know? Take me for example. I bound myself to nature. I could help you."

"You can?" Nelly asked as her spirit was aflame again. "Would you? I mean. I can't pay much."

Yvonne quickly waved her off. "No payment is needed. At least to me. Look, here is how it goes. I can make you a girl - in body, mind you - but not overnight. Nature isn't flashy as a few other disciplines. It is slower but free. All you need to do is attend one quick ritual and then expose yourself to nature. The more the better. Put a few potted plants in your rooms and off you go. A complete girl. After a year. At latest. Maybe even within a month."

"Wow, that sounds so good," Nelly remarked. "When can we get started?"

"Next full moon. Which is next weekend. You in?"

Nelly nodded enthusiastically. It wasn't instant wish fulfillment as with Elvia, but at least she would keep her soul.

Excited, she followed Yvonne into the cafeteria, where they chatted all lunch.

* - * _ * - *

"If it isn't the newest girl at our school-"

Nelly turned around to Orestes Nakos, who leaned at a nearby wall of the school. He clearly had waited for her after school.

"What do you want?" Nelly asked. "And don't try to sell me blessed love charms again."

"Oh, no," Orestes assured her. "I am merely concerned for you. Rumor is that you join Elvia for a little magic after school."

"Thanks, but I was already warned," Nelly replied while tapping her foot. She never had liked Orestes. He was the school's wannabe playboy. How he managed to get a girlfriend was beyond her.

"From whom?" Orestes wanted to know.

"Yvonne Smith," Nelly admitted.

"Oh, big mistake," Orestes warned her. "Did she gave that whole slow transformation spiel? About how safe it is and so on? Lies. She is a freaking hack. You heard of the dryad that rooted herself by mistake on the crossroad of Carlson Avenue and sixth street. That was her last volunteer. Adelina Nieves. Heard of her?"

"We had math together last year," Nelly volunteered.

"They had to dig her out of the concrete," Orestes continued. "Now she lives in a sanctuary. Can't be away from her main tree for more than three hundred feet. You want this to be your future."

"Shit," Nelly cursed out loud. A rare occurrence, but the situation warranted it. "Thank you for warning me."

"You're welcome. But if you are serious about finding a quick way to womanhood I can hook you up."

"Seriously? What makes you different from Elvia or Yvonne?"

"Because it won't be me doing it. I mean I get it. I am young and can't do shit. Heck, all those wannabe witches are just fiddling around with stuff above their pay-grade. But you see, my Dad is different." Orestes gave Nelly a critical look. "He is the local head priest of Aphrodite. You heard of her, right?"

"The Greek goddess of beauty, love, and seduction. I think," Nelly mused out loud.

"Was Greek. She has been international now for a few centuries," Orestes corrected her. "And who better to facilitate your transformation than a goddess, right?"

"That sounds a little too good."

"Well, there is a price," Orestes admitted. "One we both will have to pay."

"Which is?"

"Well, it is Aphrodite we are talking about. Goddess of love and such. The price would be that you and your sponsor would fall in love for a half year. Doesn't sound so bad, right?"

Nelly narrowed her eyes. "Let me guess. The sponsor would be you. Don't you already have a girlfriend?"

"Yes, Adrienne. She's lovely. Sponsored her too. For another deed," Orestes paused for a moment. "Look. I am not only the son of the local head priest. I am also an initiate to the goddess of Aphrodite. I won't lie. A little polygamy is expected. But don't worry. After the ritual, you won't mind. I promise."

Nelly was a little overwhelmed. It was a lot to take in. In the end, she decided to buy time. "I'll think about it. Thanks for the warnings too."

"No, worries. Take your time. My Dad won't go anywhere soon and Aphrodite is here to stay."

They said their goodbyes and split. Leaving Nelly quite conflicted.

* - * _ * - *

Nelly was walking to the school in a cloud of depression. Yesterday, she had received three offers for a quick way to her dream come true. But they all had drawbacks. It was so unfair. Each one got their hopes up. Only to be squashed.

The last one was tempting though. She never liked Orestes. He was a wannabe playboy. Probably emulating his father. Now that Nelly knew that it was the head priest of Aphrodite it made sense. And he had been very upfront about everything. Which made him trustworthy in Nelly's eyes. But could she go through with it?

"Nelly! Wait up!"

Nelly flinched. Silently praying that it was no one ruining her Orestes option. Turning around she saw Katheryn Woodard running up. Or trying to. She had a little trouble.

"Yes?" Nelly asked as Katheryn had caught up.

"I wanted to talk to you," Katheryn admitted. "Look. We are in the same boat. Just on the opposite. I want to be a boy. You want to be a girl. We can help each other."

Nelly quirked an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Easy," Katheryn assured her. "I know someone who can swap our bodies. I even got the money ready. Won't even take five minutes and both our dreams are fulfilled."

Nelly stumbled but caught herself. She hadn't expected to find something so simple to solve her problem. But, was it? She glanced at Katheryn. While Nelly hated her male body she still took care of it. A philosophy Katheryn didn't seem to share. She was more than a little overweight and her lack of care could be seen all over her body. If Nelly was honest then she would rate her current body a seven and Katheryn's a two.

Still, Nelly tried to be objectionable. Could she, in the body of her, pull it around? The weight could be lost with exercise. The unkempt hair and dirty skin were a matter of daily care. It would get better over time. But how much?

As much as Nelly wanted a female body, was it worth stepping so low? To take a body that was so run down that everyone avoided Katheryn. Nelly was split. She needed more time.

"Sounds like the right idea," Nelly started. "But I need to talk about it with my parents. Talk to you soon, okay?"

Nelly quickly excused herself, but soon was ambushed by yet another person. Corey Singleton leaned at the school's fence and hollered for Nelly to wait as he spotted her.

"Rumor is you want a female body," Corey started without preamble. "I am hurt that you didn't come to me first."

Nelly narrowed her eyes. She knew next to nothing about Corey and had no clue why she should talk to him. Her wanting a female body was her business. Not his.

"Why?" she asked. Not entirely managing to suppress her annoyance.

"Because I am a body sculptor. My whole family is for over seven generations now."

"A body sculptor? Never heard of that," Nelly admitted.

"It is rather rare," Corey admitted. "You see we are not just mages, but artists. Were other mages and witches go for instant transformation, we body sculptors take our time. Instead of trusting some arcane whim, a body sculptor is addressing one detail at a time. Remodeling a body with pace and attention to detail."

"That sounds amazing," Nelly admitted. "But also inconvenient. To be stuck between forms. For how long?"

"A half-year," Corey volunteered. "Well, given that I still go to school, maybe a year. But don't worry. You wouldn't notice any of it. For you, it would appear like an instant transformation."

Now, Nelly developed doubts. "How exactly does it work?"

"Well, first I transform your body to clay a-"

"Clay!"

"Magical clay," Corey assured her. "How else am I supposed to sculpt your body? But as I said. No need to worry. You won't feel a thing. As long as your body is clay your consciousness is suspended."

"I don't know. A year?"

"But think of the advantages. Your body wouldn't just be female. It would be perfection. A piece of art."

Nelly nodded, but still had doubts. "And you could change my body exactly how I want it?"

"Well-" Corey gave her a charming smile. Or what he might think one looked like. "I am an artist. No helping that. If the muse strikes you know-"

"And how often did you do this already?"

"Once," Corey admitted. "Not a gender change. Just some minor touch-ups. You'll be my first big project."

"I'll think about it," Nelly promised. And she would, but there were a few doubts that she couldn't shake.

* - * _ * - *

"Nelly!"

Nelly twitched. She had tried to avoid Elvia. But the witch had found her nonetheless.

"Where were you? I waited for you after school."

"Well-" Nelly's mind raced to find an excuse. "You see-"

"Someone talked smack behind my back, right?" Elvia asked sagely. She gave a tired nod and gave a big sigh. "What was it this time?"

"Something about making a pact with the devil-"

Elvia groaned. "Ugh. That old argument again. Look. Let me explain."

She steered Nelly away, who wondered what she got into this time.

"Every mage and witch makes a pact. Everyone. If they say otherwise then they are lying. Some bind themselves to nature, like Yvonne, and others to a god or goddess. But here is the thing. I can't make a pact with the devil. He doesn't exist."

"What?"

"The devil is an invention of the church. A millennium or so ago. All to scare their followers into doing their bidding. Then, two centuries back, we got visitors from a parallel dimension. As in science, Nelly. Not magic or faith. Whatever. Unfortunately the visitors from the Netherrealm, that's what their dimension is called, look a lot like demons. You know. Red skin, hooves, horns, and tails."

She stopped Nelly from walking further. Clearly animated now in her rant. "And the church? They took it as a sign. That demons were real and so was the devil. All bullshit. I mean they claim there is a king in hell, right? The Netherlandians don't even have a monarchy. They are democratic just like us."

"So, it is a bunch of prejudice?"

"Exactly," Elvia exclaimed. "Look. I would never trade my soul away for power. Magic or otherwise. Only idiots would claim something like that. I connected my soul with the Netherrealm. How else am I supposed to channel their magic? It's the same a witch does with the local nature. I just use the nature of a different dimension."

Nelly nodded. "I guess that makes sense. To be honest, I am a little glad. My other options-"

"What others?" Elvia dug in.

"Well, there is Orestes-"

"Fuck, no," Elvia immediately cursed. "Look. Nelly. If you have other options. Fine. I want you to be happy. If another can do it for you then go for it. But listen. Do. Not. Trust. Orestes."

"To be honest, I had my doubts about him," Nelly admitted. "He was very upfront about everything, but something was off."

"The whole dude is off," Elvia insisted. "Did he tell you about the mental part?"

"Yeah. Falling in love with him for a half year. A fact I don't really like."

"That is not what I mean," Elvia said while shaking her head. "They straight-up brainwash people. Have you ever talked to Adrienne? His 'girlfriend'. She is so one dimensional you wouldn't believe. Heck, go to the science lab and ask them to make you a Stepford wife. You know. All robots and programming. You would still have more free will there than Adrienne currently has. She is so locked in her docile good girlfriend role that she is practically dead inside."

"Damn. And that is legal?"

"It's hard to prove," Elvia admitted. "Just don't do it, okay? Promise?"

"I won't. Thanks for warning me."

"So, what other options you have?"

"A few hours ago Corey Singleton came to me," Nelly volunteered.

"He has powers?" Elvia asked. "Didn't know that."

"Apparently, he is a body sculptor."

"Damn, Nelly," Elvia cursed. "You are some kind of asshole magnet."

"What?"

"I heard of body sculptors. Seen their victims. They all look like pornstars. And the rumor is they can shape more than the body. Mind too." Elvia looked conflicted for a moment but then continued on. "I am not saying Corey is like the ones I heard about. Maybe he is not. Just be careful."

"I will," Nelly promised.

Again, all her options went up in flames. Nelly was devastated. Right now, Elvia's offer looked the best. But, for how long? It didn't leave Nelly's mind even after saying goodbye to Elvia.

* - * _ * - *

Nelly spied her target and beelined for it. With each person she spoke to, more details revealed themselves. So, Nelly thought seeking out Yvonne might clue her in about details of her other offers.

"Yvonne. Do you got a minute?"

"Nelly? Sure. What is on your mind? Taking me up on my offer."

Nelly winced. "Sorry Yvonne, I want to be a girl in body, but going full Dryad is a little too much."

"Ugh. Who told you about that?" Yvonne asked. "Listen. That whole Dryad deal. That was my younger sister. She wasn't ready yet and we told her as much. Look. Here. These are my last three clients."

Yvonne pulled out a portfolio and handed it to Nelly. All three girls in there looked beautiful, but there was one detail that stood out.

"Why do they all have green hair?"

"It's part of the magic. Look, mine are too." Yvonne parted her hair and showed Nelly the roots. They had a tinge green to it. "I guess it is a disadvantage. You can color your hair as I do. Brown and black works best. Lighter colors like blond and red not so much. Even with using bleach."

"I see. Look, I wanted to talk to you about Elvia-"

"She again?" Yvonne cut her off. "I bet it was her who spread those false rumors about me. Ugh. She is the worst. Listen. Don't believe everything she says. I mean, look at her last project."

"Which was?"

"Chrystal Crosby. I take it you heard of her?"

Nelly had indeed and nodded. Crystal was known as the school's slut. Rumor says if a guy wanted to get his dick wet, then she was the gal to ask. Normally, Nelly didn't give a hoot about rumors. Yet, Nelly had too often walked into a school's restroom that was occupied by Crystal and one of her conquests.

"If you don't want to end up like her then I suggest you'd stay away. Sorry. I gotta go. The next class is about to begin. Talk later?"

Nelly nodded. Followed by a heartfelt sigh. She wanted more rumors and she got them in spades.

* - * _ * - *

"Excuse me? Nolan, right?" The blustering young guy facepalmed himself. "Sorry. You want to be called Nelly, right?"

"That is correct." Nelly hadn't expected to use her female name so soon. Planning to adopt it only after her body was transformed into a female one. But apparently, the whole school accepted and run with it.

"My name is Noah. Noah Potts. I won the science fair last year."

"Yeah. That's why you look familiar," Nelly lied.

"Look. Me and the guys. We got our hands on this remarkable female android a few months back. It was a bit of a fixer-upper, but we got her working. Mostly. You see the A.I. never worked. And we thought an uploaded neural pattern-"

"Noah," Nelly butted in. "Let me stop you right there. I appreciate what you are trying to do, but my dream is to be a real woman. As in flesh and blood."

Noah blushed and took a few steps backward. "I get it. It was a long shot anyway. Told the guys you wouldn't go for it. No hard feelings, right?"

"Sure," Nelly agreed.

* - * _ * - *

"You look down."

Nelly looked up and spied Elvia who had found her.

"I talked to Yvonne," Nelly admitted after letting out a heartfelt sigh.

Elvia sat down beside Nelly on the grass. "What did she say this time?"

"Uhm, she mentioned Chrystal Crosby," Nelly volunteered.

Elvia looked at Nelly for a moment and then burst out laughing. "Ah, yes. The school slut. My finest project so far."

"What?" Nelly was shocked. For Elvia to admit it so easily was unexpected. "You really made her a slut?"

"Oh, sweetie, far from it," Elvia managed to say after a few more chuckles. "What do you know about Crystal? Before I got my hands on her."

"I don't really know anything."

"That is because Crystal used to be Chris."

"Wait. The Chris that came out as gay last year?"

"Exactly," Elvia said with a nod. "And you know what? He had a hunger. Yes, for man-meat. Fucked everything that gave his gay ass a chance. But it wasn't enough. Chris wanted more. And there I came in."

"You made him into Crystal so he can fuck more men?"

"So she can fuck more men," Elvia corrected. "So, you see. Crystal had always been a slut. It just wasn't as noticeable when he was a gay teen boy. Now, she can fish in a bigger pond."

"I guess-"

"Okay, in all fairness I have to admit that my way could have made her a little bit more of a slut," Elvia volunteered.

"What do you mean?"

"You know that magic always has a cost, right? Some claim it as side effects."

Nelly didn't have to think long. "Yvonne mentioned it. Apparently, all her volunteers end up with green hair."

"Exactly. Look, those I change tend to take on aspects of the Netherrealmian race. You see these?" Elvia parted her forehead hair and pointed to small bone protrusions. "I wish my side-effects had been bigger. Instead of wicked horns I only have these small nubs. Well, maybe with more rituals performed that will change."

"What does that have to do with Crystal?"

"Oh, you see the Netherrealmian's live in a fairly warm world. For them, our world is uncomfortably cold. And those touched by their magic often develop a fondness for heat sources. Tanning in the sun, visiting the sauna, lounging in front of a fireplace, and in Crystal's case sharing body heat."

"I see-" Nelly slowly admitted.

The two girls shared a small silent moment before Elvia gave Nelly a lopsided grin. "You are still on the fence, right? To be honest, magic has always drawbacks. Licensed magicians only manage to minimize it to barely noticeable. Tell you what. I remove myself. Officially withdrawing my offer."

"What? Why?" Elvia's sudden reveal was surprising. While Nelly wasn't sure about her magic, she liked Elvia as a person.

"Well, now that I don't have a stake in it anymore, I can give you better advice," Elvia revealed. Leaning closer she continued. "Here is what I would do if I were in your shoes-"

* - * _ * - *

"Nelly, right?" Elvia asked as she caught up to Nelly. "I mean it must be you. Katheryn, now Ken, walks around in your body. So, if a seemingly new girl shows up, it must be you."

"Yeah, I am," Nelly admitted.

"Damn, girl. You look hot. Give me a twirl."

Grinning, Nelly obligated. She loved how the skirt flared as she did. In fact, she loved everything about her new body. It was perfect.

"So, my advise helped?" Elvia asked.

"More than that. You were right. It is a lot cheaper to get your dream body from a professional when you are already the desired gender. Switched with Katheryn, now Ken, and then went to a professional."

"Who did you pick?"

"We went to Better-U Incorporated. They were amazing," Nelly gushed. "Slimmed the body down in a jiffy and made everything to my specifications. It took a whole day, but it was worth it. Each detail was addressed and they pointed out the advantages and disadvantages of every decision. Such dedication."

"Sounds like an expansive enterprise," Elvia remarked.

"Well, my parents had to take credit," Nelly admitted. "A small one. It wasn't nearly as expansive as I had feared. We'll have that one paid off in no time. A few years at most. But this way, I didn't have to wait a few years for my dream body."

"I am really glad for you," Elvia admitted. "To be honest, I doubt I could have delivered such a fine job as Better-U Incorporated did. You really are perfect. And to be honest, if you ever want to share body heat with me, I am all game."

Nelly blushed deeply but then gave a slight warm smile. Her new life was shaping up better than she hoped. With a renewed step, she headed to school. Finally a complete girl. Soul, mind, and body.

---

1

---

It happened again. Berous had zoned out. It wasn't unusual for a dungeon mob to do so. Most of the time, there was little to do. It was natural. A week here. A month there. Even years in between visits of adventurers. But something had snapped Berous out of his funk.

Looking to his left, a small avalanche of dust trickled down his helmet. Moran stood to the left. Ramrod straight and unmoving. His own carpet of dust blanked him. With dismay, Berous noticed that Moran had deleveled again. The lancer was now only level one. Soon, the dungeon won't be able to hold on and Moran will despawn. Just like so many other mobs of this dungeon had done.

Sarlem wasn't doing any better. The second lancer in Berous throne room had fallen to level one too. Berous hesitated but then looked at his own mob sheet. Level two. What a pitiful boss fight for any adventurer to stumble into.

But it was their fault!

The adventurers had forsaken them. They brought mana and ideas into the dungeon. Then, the dungeon core used it to summon and maintain their mobs. Without new adventurers, the dungeon would slowly starve and consume itself. Berous - as the boss mob - would despawn last and then the core would crack and die. If only Berous could do anything to change this fate.

Berous stood up. Shaking off the dust that had settled on him. He wouldn't snap to it if it was just deleveling. No, something else must have changed. Something was missing.

It came to him and it made him grin wildly beneath his plate helmet. “Look alive, men. We got company!”

Motion returned to the lancers. They stretched and shook off the worst of the stiffness. “Are you sure, boss?” Moran asked. “Could be wishful thinking.”

Berous gave a gruff snort. “Could be. But where is Loum?” Their golem was a free-roaming mob. Which was a little of a misnomer. Adventurers called it free roaming as the golem didn't stay in one room. Berous knew that the golem Loum followed a complex path throughout the dungeon. And over the centuries, Berous had become familiar with the single appearance of the golem in the boss room. Once at every end of the path. Every fifty-one minutes. But now, the golem was overdue.

“He could have despawned,” Sarlem remarked softly. “Though I wish you are right, boss. I am itching for a fight.”

“Well, you are getting one. Look.” Berous pointed at the hallway leading to his boss chamber. Light flashed in the distance. But it was wrong on a subtle level. It was too white and cold. It was also missing the typical flickering of a torch. It must be a mage, Berous reasoned. Having cast some kind of enchanted light.

Well, Berous had magic of his own. His mana pool was pitifully small. For a moment, he contemplated saving it for the fight. No, there was no point to it. He was level two and his two comrades were level one. It would be a short and one-sided fight. Berous had to think long-term. What mattered was that more adventurers visited. Hence, he couldn't show how long the dungeon hadn't seen visitors. With a cast of nearly all of his mana, the room returned to a pristine state. Dust and debris vanished, and all the torches ignited.

“Boys, let's make Lady Dungeon proud!”

For the first time in a century, Berous plate armor shone in the flickering light of the torches. As did his sword when he pulled it out of his scabbard. Berous was ready.

Or so he thought.

Four young women entered his boss-chamber and Berous hesitated. No, he had no problem cutting down women. Even as a knight. Most likely, their souls were bound to a respawn monolith or other resurrection implement and they would be hurt, but fine. It wasn't even the age that made him hesitate. They were bloody young. If he had known the word, he might have called them teenagers.

It was their garments that were utterly baffling. He had seen everything from tunic to leather, and iron to steel. Plate, studded, or chain. Robes and ceremonial vestiges. But these girls wore neither. Small fabric skirts and tunics that left their midriff bare. Even their shoes looked flimsy. Despite being of blackened leather. There were no pauldrons, bracers, or shin guards. Just some jewelry. Maybe magical? Berous doubted it.

At least they carried weapons. Two carried light bows of a wood type Berous couldn't discern. But the swords nearly made him laugh. They were wooden too and held a blunt edge. How had these girls made it past the guards? As unprepared as they were, even level one dungeon mobs should have wiped the floor with them. Yet here they stood.

“Foolish adventurers!” Berous voices echoed through the chamber. “How dare you step before me. Prepare yourself, for death awaits.”

Berous had been a dungeon mob for over five hundred years. For over four and a half centuries, he had been the chosen boss mob for the dungeon. He had held countless monologues and short challenges for adventurers. But this time was the first that it was met with giggling. It was no joke and anger grew within him. He would teach them and they would rue the day they stepped into this dungeon!

He stabbed in the direction of the intruders. “Charge!”

Moran and Sarlem had only waited for his command. Both lowered their lances and rushed into the fray. Berous was only steps behind. An arrow impacted his left shoulder and it nearly made him stumble. A good hit. About a fifth of his health was gone. Strangely dressed or not, these girls were clearly not level one or two.

But they were newbies. The guard stance of the sword woman was wide open and Berous arced his sword down. A might cleave to drive into the collarbone. All the way to the heart.

Instead, his blade impacted an invisible barrier that shimmered lightly as the edge connected. This was new. Berous never had seen magic like this. Lesser mobs would have been stunned by the revelation. But Berous was a boss mob. He parried with alacrity the wooden sword that reached out for him. Biting down on the pain when the parry nearly fractured the bones in his arm. Such strength he had not anticipated.

He stepped back and resumed a guard stance. But even doing so, Berous knew it was for naught. Moran and Sarlem already lay dead at his feet. It was only a matter of time before Berous joined them. Adventurers thought that his only goal was to kill them. But Berous knew better. As fast as he could, Berous let his blade fly. A flurry of blows. Never connecting with the unprotected skin of the young women. Instead, the invisible barrier shimmered again and again. Each time shedding a little mana the dungeon would gobble up.

There was a clattering sound. A small pink rectangle had fallen out of the sword woman's backpack. Sliding under a brazier. For a split second, Berous wondered if this item had been the source of the magical shield they used. The distraction was his undoing as one of the girls kicked him in the chest. Berous went flying with nearly no health points left. Those were sapped away as he impacted on a nearby wall.

Death meant nothing to a dungeon mob. The dungeon would recycle the body and spawn it anew. Not an hour after these strange adventurers left, Berous would be back again. Ready for the next fight. Until then, he was a ghost. Floating around and bearing witness.

These new adventurers were vexing. Has so much changed in the one hundred years? Berous was perplexed. Even more so when those four girls communicated more through giggles than through words. Then they removed more of these strange rectangles. All, but one, who patted herself down.

“Oh, you guys, I think I forgot my phone again.”

More giggles and playful replies that twisted Berous’ mind. They still spoke a language he knew, but there were so many new words in their vocabulary that it might be a new language altogether.

The following behavior was just strange. The girls posed and flashes emerged from the rectangles that they held up. Curious, Berous floated closer. As a ghost, he was invisible. Making Him able to glance over the girls' shoulders. The rectangles turned out to be some kind of mirror. Now and then, they tapped on it, a flash would happen, and the mirror image froze for a split second. What a strange magical device.

These new adventurers turned out to be quite rude. The loot chest with the most valuable items the dungeon had to offer was the target of scorn and mockery. Of course, they had to pose. Even making strange faces. Why were they pushing their lips out? Were they mimicking ducks? And more of these strange flashes.

But dunking on his loot wasn't enough. They posed over the dead bodies of Moran and Sarlem. Disgraced Berous throne by sitting on it - and posing - before they moved to his deceased body too. This was just unheard of. To what depth have adventurers fallen? Dungeon mobs and adventurers were adversaries, yes. But they usually were courteous in their respective roles. It was a symbiotic relationship after all. They brought new mana into the dungeon and in return, the dungeon would provide loot and experience.

“Let's see that dungeon core, girls!”

If Berous had still been alive, now all blood would have drained his face. The dungeon core was sacred. Adventurers knew to leave it alone. Berous' knowledge of the outside world was spotty, but he knew that adventurer guilds existed. And they forbid messing with a dungeon core unless said core became dangerous to the outside. But these new adventurers didn't care. If they hurt or destroyed it, Berous and his fellow mobs would not respawn. The whole dungeon would die. And there was nothing he could do about it.

With apprehension, he followed them deeper into the dungeon. To the very center. The sanctuary. Dungeon cores started out as small glowing crystals. As they absorbed more mana, these crystals grew. Lady Dungeon, as Berous liked to call her, had grown to cover a huge part of a cavern wall. Bearing testimony of how powerful this dungeon had once been. Not all of the crystal was glowing. Only a small flicker in the middle. It reflected how little mana the dungeon core had left. Lady Dungeon was close to dying. She had one - maybe two - decades left.

More of these silly poses. Berous wanted to scream. To cast them out. But he was unable to do so. Helpless, he had to watch. At least the girls had one decency left. None dared to touch the crystal. Not even daring to come within an arm's reach of it. It was a small mercy.

It wasn't long after - a small eternity for Berous - that these strange invaders left. Now, he could calm down and reflect upon the events that had occurred. Strange as it may have been, it still was fortuitous that the group had arrived. They had brought mana into the dungeon. Possibly extending the lifespan of the dungeon by another decade. For it, suffering through the humiliation was worth it. Barely. The question was if more groups like these would visit. Berous dreaded and longed for it too. They needed more visitors to survive. But whatever happened to the outside had twisted adventurers for the worse.

All that was left was for Berous to return to his throne room and patiently wait for his respawn. It couldn't be long now. Yet as he began to move, something unusual happened. A happenstance that he had only witnessed twice in all the centuries as a mob in this dungeon. Light gathered before the dungeon core. Gradually taking form. It was humanoid. Then gained features. A woman who displayed beauty without a match. Once formed, clothing materialized around her. Court shoes, undergarments, and a dress that would put those of the queens of any royal court to shame. For the third time in Berous' existence, Lady Dungeon had taken form.

With a grace no human could match, Lady Dungeon exited the core room. Seemingly floating down the rough-hewn tunnel that led to Berous throne room. In wonder, Berous followed. What possibly could lure Lady Dungeon out? The answer came as the avatar of the dungeon walked to one of the braziers. Pulling forth one of these strange rectangles. This one was in pink.

Berous now had a better look. It was made with some kind of metal, but it appeared very light in Lady Dungeon's grip. The corners were rounded off. On one side he expected the strange mirror. Instead, there was black glass. Smaller circles of glass were embedded into the opposite side. Maybe it was more than just a carrier for an enchantment. Maybe it was some kind of device? He had heard of clocks that became smaller and smaller. Berous banished that thought. The rectangle was too slim to contain more than a few cogs and what would be the function? No, it had to be the bearer for an enchantment.

While Berous mused on in confusion, Lady Dungeon turned and walked back to the core room. He could guess why she was interested in this unexpected item. Dungeons learned from the items left behind by adventurers. Weapons and armor were useful. Books were rarely left behind but gave deeper insight into the cultures outside the dungeon. At last, there were adventurers themselves. Whenever an adventurer died, the dungeon could hold onto the soul and learn from its knowledge. Of course, this opportunity was fleeting. Only a fool of an adventurer delved into a dungeon without having the insurance of resurrection magic. Lady Dungeon usually had a half hour. But sometimes as much as half a day. Then the soul was whisked away to be reborn by outside magic.

With measured steps, she walked towards the crystal - her real self - and held out the strange rectangle. A beam of light shot out and lifted the rectangle up. Just as the avatar of Lady Dungeon vanished, the rectangle sprang to life. The black glass surface suddenly displayed pictures in splendid colors and fine detail to a degree Berous had never seen before. But there was more. Pages upon pages with uniform writing too quick to process for him flashed by. Whatever this rectangle was, Berous was sure it was not a mirror. Not even some protective charm. It held a great amount of knowledge. All of it was now absorbed by Lady Dungeon. To what end, Berous couldn't tell.

---

2

---

Time was hard to judge inside a dungeon. It was an abstract concept for Berous. He would guess it had been three days since those strange adventurers had arrived. But the definition of days was based on the sun. Berous had never seen the celestial body. He had memories. Knowledge siphoned from adventurers and been given to him. As with every dungeon creature, Berous was a construct. Cobbled together with bits and pieces the dungeon had stolen away from the minds of slain foes.

And by now, Berous should have respawned. Sitting back on his throne. Yet he was still a ghost. Just like every other dungeon mob here. Lady Dungeon was still busy studying the smartphone.

The thought gave Berous a pause. Why did he suddenly know what these rectangles were called? It must be information Lady Dungeon was feeding him. But what was a smartphone? Berous couldn't answer that question. A newfound instinct said it was for communication, but that wasn't quite it either. Somehow, it meant more.

Deep in his musing, Berous nearly missed it. The smartphone clattered to the ground. Once again lifeless. But it was the dungeon core that drew his attention. Pulses emanated from the core. Traveling like tiny waves over walls and the floor. Any surface they traveled over changed slightly. These pulses strengthened and Berous knew what it meant. The dungeon was shifting into a new form. Not just adjusting slightly based on the new information. This was a large-scale remodeling.

Such an undertaking was mana-intensive. Even with recycling mana, there would be a heavy loss. Berous could feel the dungeon contracting. Erasing most rooms. Only one remained. His throne room warped and wobbled. Slimming down in width, but gaining in length. The room was suddenly drenched in light. The ceiling had given way to a light blue expanse. The sky, a part of Berous informed him. Not that he ever had seen the real sky. He only had fragments of memories. And this sky wasn't real either. A cunning illusion.

The brickwork of the walls vanished. In their place, new materials appeared. Glass, wood, plastic, and concrete. The last two he could identify but what they were Berous couldn't say. More knowledge fragments that he had gained through the dungeon. He recognized what the dungeon was building. Shops. Or rather the facsimiles of shop fronts. But these weren't based on the rough likeness of medieval times. This was modern. Contemporary.

At this moment, Berous was glad to not have a body. All these new words and concepts. Surely they would have given him a headache. The shifting of the dungeon stopped as the shopping arcade took its final shape. Despite not knowing what a shopping arcade was exactly, Berous doubted it was a place usually reserved for fighting. There wasn't even a throne he could sit on. Only a few plastic chairs to the side and these looked rather flimsy. No, this was no place for a knight.

A silhouette of light appeared. The sign that Lady Dungeon was summoning her first new mob into the remodeled environment. A pull drew Berous closer. Of course, the Lady would summon her boss mob first. That was only logical. The silhouette appeared awfully small and it dawned on him that he might not be respawning in his old body.

With a plop, Berous materialized. Suddenly flesh and blood again. He felt wrong. Not his usual self. This wasn't the first time Lady Dungeon had altered his form. But those had been minor alterations. This was new. A deep breath and Berous looked down to face his new reality.

“This can't be!” His voice was new. Higher in tone. Fitting his new body. It was easy to guess who Lady Dungeon had taken as inspiration. “She made me one of them!”

Berous was stunned. This time without taking a shield to the noggin or a good swing of a club. He felt the fabric of his new uniform in his slender and feminine hands. It was so soft. Unlike anything he had ever worn. Being used to heavy armor and its padding underneath, the few clothing layers he now had felt flimsy. They offered no protection at all. He might as well be naked.

Despite centuries of experience and having faced numerous foes, Berous is suddenly experiencing the onset of panic. There was no way he could defend the dungeon without wearing armor. All because of these strange intruders.

Remembering them gave Berous pause. These girls had done fine without armor. They had those strange shields. Maybe Berous had them too? He now doubted that the rectangles- smartphones - were the source of the magical shield. No, it had to be something different. It was time to reevaluate all the garments he wore and do so without bias.

Closest to his skin were two strange garments. His inane object inspection ability named them brassiere and panties. Both had no defensive value to speak of. The brassiere cupped his breasts. What a strange addition. Berous could make no heads or tails of it. Why did Lady Dungeon give him breasts? Or make him a woman? It made no sense. Breasts couldn't be there for defensive reasons. Sure, the fat tissue might slow down a striking weapon. But it was too concentrated. Worse, they might hinder his body's balance in a fight. They moved too. Slightly. Probably more when unrestrained. Maybe that was the purpose of the brassiere? To arrest movement. But why give him a handicap just to negate part of it?

It was hardly possible, but the panties made even less sense. The loss of his penis wasn't bad really. It - and the balls - had been as useless as his new breasts. Worse, the appendage had been a critical weak point. He only had to be kicked there once to never forget it. Yes, he knew what a penis was for. Humans procreate with it. A function utterly meaningless for a dungeon mob. Not to mention that there had been a few distracting moments in fights when he fought against attractive women.

For a moment, Berous wondered if he now counted as attractive. Being now a woman too. But he pushed the thought aside. Getting rid of his tackle meant one less weak spot. Or was it? Intellectually he knew he now had a vagina. Was it as prone to pain as a dick? Berous hoped he wouldn't find out. The panties wouldn't provide any padding against any possible kick or attack. Maybe they were preventing that dirt from getting inside of him? Berous chose to ignore any implications and further thought on the topic. Hopefully, he wouldn't find out. Women's anatomy was weird and strange to him. Maybe staying blissfully ignorant might be better. All he had to do was ignore his own body. That couldn't be that hard, right?

The next layer of garments is identified by his ability as a blouse, skirt, and tight-high socks. All three are part of a five-piece set called “schoolgirl uniform”. The set name was peculiar. As if it was a piece of a puzzle that Berous couldn't even fathom the size of. What exactly was a schoolgirl? These garments at least had a little bit of protection. Though it was so little, it might as well not be there.

The thigh-high sock provided two percent resistance against frost damage. Berous couldn't even remember when he had last fought against a frost mage. The white blouse was thin. Even a little see-through. Spun so fine Berous had to look closer to see individual threats. It was not silk, but too smooth and thin for linen. It provided zero-to-one damage reduction. Most likely, he reasoned, zero reduction with a slim chance of reducing one point.

The long skirt wasn't much better. It might be wool. But so finely knit that it was beyond what Berous had ever seen. Dyed to a very deep blue that started to border on black. Its damage reduction ranged from zero to two. With so little protection, Berous might count as what dungeon-born called a glass cannon. Provided he had any means of doing serious damage.

Lifting up the hem of the skirt revealed shoes of black leather that didn't even cover all of his feet. He never had seen leather this thin, but it appeared sturdy enough. Provided he didn't go for a hike. In combat, they might be enough. If he got used to the small raised heel. Another impracticality Berous couldn't make sense of. The only advantage the footwear provided was that the pair was the fourth piece of the “schoolgirl uniform” set.

Which meant the jacket had to be the fifth item. But Berous was dead wrong. The name of the item was “rebel teen jacket” and provided some protection. Three to five in reduction. Despite the flimsy nature of this leather. It might not be much thicker than that of the shoes. A lot of details didn't make sense to Berous. It covered both of his arms but ended just above his waist. Leaving his midriff totally exposed. It was adorned with metal studs in patterns Berous couldn't deceiver. All but one. Slipping out of the garment revealed the silhouette of a fist with a raised middle finger. Above it were the words “Fuck Off!” spelled out in studs. What was that all about?

Most curious was the alternative set bonus the jacket had. It gave every “schoolgirl uniform” piece one damage reduction for every piece worn. Unless the “schoolgirl uniform” set was complete. In a way, the jacket completed the set without being part of it. Four pieces meant four points of reduction for each garment and a total of sixteen damage reduction in total. Elevating the outfit to lightly armored.

At last, Berous examined the jewelry he wore and there was plenty of it. He knew of magical rings, but wearing fifteen at the same time felt like overkill. Upon closer inspection, only three were actually magical. Raising constitution, dexterity, and strength by one respectively. Why wear so many unnecessary rings then? Berous was confused but kept the rings. Trusting that Lady Dungeon had a reason.

Inspecting the necklace around his neck threw Berous for a bit. Clearly, this was the main defensive item Lady Dungeon had provided for him. It was enchanted and provided a magical shield of eighty points. While he hadn't seen the invaders wear necklaces like this, they had to be kitted out with them too. It also meant the magical shield they possessed was finite and could be depleted. Useful information that Berous stored away.

That left the many metallic bangles on both arms. At first, Berous had categorized them as useless fluff. Just like the superfluous rings. But closer inspection revealed their true potential. Each bangle had intricate engravings and was chained together to three of its brethren. Creating one compound enchantment that provided a shield too. This one had only fifteen points but promised fast recharge. They could act as ablative shields that could regenerate if the combat lasted long enough.

Berous took a few steps - even a short sprint - and was surprised at how agile he felt. As he used to be a knight in heavy armor, it had become standard to be the lumbering giant that hit hard and took his enemies head-on. But this was different. He didn't have to take hits. Berous could evade now. Those who would manage to catch him had to dig through his shields. No, this outfit wasn't as flimsy as he had thought. There was some potential.

His defense was assured. That left his offense as an open point. Berous needed a weapon and found that Lady Dungeon had provided it too. Leaning against one of the fake shop facades was a metallic club. He wasn't sure of what material it was. The metal appeared blackened. But it was still shiny and gleaming. Berous wasn't sure how it was possible, but the metal changed smoothly to red to spell out the word “Slammer”.

The weapon was of the type “baseball bat” and provided six to nine base damage. It felt surprisingly light as Berous picked it up. A few practice swings assured him that this could do some damage. It would do. But if Lady Dungeon had given the choice, Berous would have preferred his old sword.

Further musing eluded him as a new mob appeared to be spawning. A woman too, he guessed based on the silhouette. Then, she popped into existence. The new woman - his dungeon sense told him she was called Momo - was of a darker skin. Not as Berous' own fair skin. Her outfit was nearly identical. A few fewer rings and the studs on the leather jacket appeared to form different patterns. Eye-catching was her hairdo. Tightly curled brown hair spilled out to all sides. Giving the impression of a fluffy helmet in the shape of a sphere twice the size of Momo's head.

“Boss?” The newcomer appeared to be hesitant.

Something clicked within Berous' mind. Lady Dungeon wouldn't create new mob spirits unless she had to. Berous had been reformed, but his spirit was reused. The same had to be true for the woman before him.

“Is that you, Moran?” Berous asked.

“Kind of, I guess.” Momo took a moment to explore her new body. Just like Berous had done. Rifling through her jacket produced two unusual pieces of jewelry. Four rings were connected together by a brass bar. Berous had no idea what they were for, but Momo appeared to have a guess. She slipped one of these onto each hand and threw a few practice punches. “Nice. These will do some damage.”

Berous lifted his new bat. “Lots of changes. New armor and new weapons. Heh, I wonder what Sarlem will spawn with.”

Momo shrugged. “We used to be both lancers, Berlyn-sama. Maybe she will get a pair of knuckle-dusters too.”

It was strange to hear his new name spoken out loud. But there was something else. “What did you add to my name?”

“Sama?” Momo scratched her head. A feat made harder by her bushy tightly curled hair. She needed a moment to find a spot to easily reach the scalp but gave up and scratched at the edge of her voluminous hairstyle. “That just slipped out. Kinda felt right to add it.”

It must be some kind of honorific, Berous mused and diverted his attention to other details. As the respawn of Sarlem took a moment, Berous bridged it by inspecting one of the fake shop fronts. He saw his half-transparent mirror image and studied it. Yes, she looked more like a Berlyn than a Berous, but he couldn't quite yet make that internal jump. Of course, he knew that if Lady Dungeon wanted him in this form, he should accept being a woman and move on. But centuries of being one gender weren't easy to shake.

His mirror image stared back at him. Blue eyes, bushy eyebrows, and long straight black hair. There was nothing left that tied him to being Berous. Her wide plum lips pressed together to a thin line. She didn't look any more pleased to be him than he was. At least her breasts weren't too large and of a hindrance. Momo's were larger, Berous noted. For a short confusing moment, he felt a pang of envy. Where had that come from? Berous shook his head to get rid of the stray unwelcome emotion.

Overall, it was a strange look. This nearly complete set of a schoolgirl uniform. And for what it was worth, Berous kind of liked the addition of the leather jacket. Purely from an esthetic sense. The stats were abysmal. But it surprised him nonetheless. Berous had never been vain, but his new body oddly pleased him. The reflection definitely wasn't bad-looking.

Then he noticed the odd shape concealed by the leather jacket. Reaching into the pocket, Berous pulled out one of those smartphones. It was the first time he saw one of these devices up close. Aside from the black mirrored side, Berous found small barely perceivable buttons on the side and a cluster of three strange circular glasses on the opposite flat side.

Just as Berous was to push those buttons, a new silhouette of light appeared. Quickly taking on the form of yet another woman. As Berous pocketed the smartphone, Sarlem respawned. Of course, he wasn't a lancer anymore either. Or a man. The pale-skinned woman was surprisingly tall. Lanky, Berous would call her if not for large breasts that made a new flare of envy shoot through Berous. Quickly squashed, of course.

“Welcome to womanhood,” Momo said as she studied the New arrival. “Remee is it? Quite the surprise, right?”

The new addition was indeed named Remee. Berous could spot it through his dungeon sense. Remee appeared to be calm. Not easily disturbed by the development. Then again, Berous and Momo had taken it in stride too.

“Well, I saw the boss spawn as a girl. Then you. I figured-” Remee's eyes grew wide and she quickly reached up. Caressing her new mane of blond hair. Surprise made way for euphoria as Remee started to jump up and down. “I've got hair! I am not bald anymore!”

Has Sarlem been bald? Berous needed a moment to think back. The lancer had always worn a helmet and rarely taken it off. But, yes, the man had been bald. Apparently, it had been a sore point as Remee was overcome with joy.

“Maybe you shouldn't- ” Berous started, but it was too late. A few buttons popped off Remee's blouse and sailed through the air. Her endowment was large enough to do durability damage. Now her cleavage was there for all to see.

Remee stopped and looked down. It took a few seconds for her to formulate her thoughts into words. “These armor pieces are rather flimsy, aren't they?”

Berous shrugged “Could be worse. At least we have these personal shields.” Silence settled over the Trio. As mobs, they weren't really used to holding a conversation. Right now, they might have spoken more than in the whole century prior combined. Eventually, all their eyes settled on Remee's cleavage. Expectantly staring at it. After five minutes, Berous had enough. “Why isn't Lady Dungeon fixing it?”

“Maybe she is exhausted?” Momo volunteered. “This was a lot for remodeling.”

“I don't mind.” Remee continued to stare down her own cleavage. Then bounced up and down a few times. Then, quite visibly, an epiphany hit her. “Guys! We all should expose our breasts. Think about it. Ain't normal human men attracted to them? We can use ours to distract them.”

Momo nodded along. “Great idea.” She promptly unbuttoned part of her own blouse and gave it a test jiggle. Clearly being pleased with the result.

Berous looked down and then crossed his arms over his chest instead of revealing more skin himself. There wasn't enough, but he didn't voice that out loud. “This is stupid. Besides, the last adventurers had been women.”

“Oh, those will get green with envy,” Remee said and emphasized her point by jiggling again.

Berous looked away. Remee had a point. In fact, part of Berous was betraying him and actually fell for the envy-trap. It was time to change the topic. “You got one of these too?” He pulled out the smartphone.

Momo and Remee patted themselves down and indeed produced a smartphone each. “What are they?” Momo asked aloud. “All the invaders had one too. What are they even for?”

“I was just about to figure it out as you two respawned.” Berous flipped the phone around and took a look from all sides. There were tiny indents and holes, but he couldn't guess what they were for. But one of the buttons did indeed do something. Suddenly the black mirrored surface was filled with color, symbols, and even words. “Swipe to unlock,” he read aloud before looking at his compatriots. They shrugged. Clearly, Lady Dungeon hadn't bestowed them any more knowledge than she had given him.

Swipe to unlock. Maybe it could open? Berous tried to wave the smartphone through the air. Sometimes slow. Other times fast. Wide swipes and small ones. Nothing worked.

“Got it!” Momo held up her smartphone. It now showed a colorful background with a grid of symbols. “You have to use a finger to swipe over the surface.”

Remee and Berous tried the same and their smartphone now mirrored that of Momo. With one puzzle solved, another presented itself. A bunch of pictograms crowded the surface. Each with a name underneath. One was labeled as “browser” and another proclaimed “calculator”. A pictogram of a flame drew Berous attention. Its name was “HotVidz”. Maybe this device was for summoning magic.

He tapped on HodVidz expecting a flame to emerge. Instead, loud music blared. Berous nearly dropped the smartphone. Tiny humans performed some kind of strange dance. They appeared to be trapped inside the smartphone, but not bothered as Berous cantered and tilted the device. The dancers didn't acknowledge Berous or anything else. Just performing their strange dance steps.

Momo and Remee got curious and came closer. “Why are they shaking their butt so much?” asked the latter.

“I have no idea,” Berous murmured. Indeed, the dancers liked to hunch down and shake their butt as if they had bullet ants in their pants or skirts. More symbols - smaller this time - crowded the space. None explained what was going on. Just as Berous was to guess, the dancers jumped from one point to another. One second they were crouching and shaking their butt at Berous, the next they were further away in the small portrait room. Walking towards Berous. Then they started dancing again.

“Isn't this what we just saw?” Momo asked. “It's as if they are repeating themselves.”

“Maybe it is some kind of recording?” Remee ventured a guess. “But instead of recording an event as text, they figured out how to do it with moving pictures and sound.”

“Has to be,” Berous agreed. Pointing at the dancers. “There! They reset again.” By accident, Berous touched the surface and moved slightly upwards. The dancers vanished. Instead, an older guy appeared. Sitting in some kind of drab room.

“We all know slimes,” the man intoned with false excitement. “Weak little monsters that roam the countryside. But they aren't just pests. Here are ten amazing facts about slimes you didn't know.”

Another swipe and the recording changed. “Get ready with me for a night out.” A young woman sat in a pink room. Before her brushes, powdered paint, and other utensils Berous couldn't identify. “We start with foundation and-”

Bewildered, Berous changed the recording as the woman started to paint herself with a brush and powdery paint. Each new recording shown was stranger than the one before. Faster and faster, Berous flicked through the recordings.

As Berous finally looked up, Momo and Remee were hunched over their own smartphones. “Guys, I don't think the outside is what it used to be. If these recordings are anything to go by, we have a lot of catching up to do.”

---

3

---

Dungeon mobs were used to patiently wait. To simply stare ahead and wait for the next intruders. But the last week had been anything but patient waiting. Berous - Berlyn she corrected herself yet again - had learned so much about the outside world. The people on the outside had something called the industrial revolution and with it a diminishing need to delve into dungeons. That explained the disappearance of the adventurers.

Now, humans have entered the information age. And they were right. There was so much information at Berlyn's fingertips. It was dizzying in its vastness. The recordings they had found - called videos or vidz for short - weren't just stored on smartphones. No, the devices were connected to something called the EtherWeb. An intricate network of smartphones and computers. Another device Berlyn never had heard of before.

At times, it was too much information at once. Berlyn needed breaks. Using the camera, she admired her new looks. Black hair, blue eyes, slightly bushy brows, and full lips. She definitely was a looker. A thought that still felt foreign to her, but also made her oddly proud. She wondered when she would get used to it. Even being a woman now. Being Berous had been easier. There were fewer rules for men. Before and after the information age arrived.

Looking up, she saw Momo leaning against one of the shop fronts and scrolling through her smartphone. Now and then giggling at something. Remee had sat down at one of the cheap plastic chairs that littered the area before a fake restaurant. She was busy drawing cat eyes. Of the three of them, Remee took to wearing make-up the most.

“It's like warpaint,” she had said. “And if done right, other women will be intimidated. You should try it too.”

Berlyn had but with a less stellar outcome than Remee. She knew it was something Lady Dungeon desired. Just by the fact that they were provided with make-up in the first place. Well, they raided the boss loot they were expected to guard. Which was common enough. Even before the remodeling.

“What is all this?” “Did we take a wrong turn?”

The sudden voices made Berlyn jump up. Intruders? After a century of absence, she hadn't expected new adventurers so soon. No, that wasn't quite right. Adventurers as they had known them weren't a thing anymore. The invaders of the last week had been ordinary schoolgirls. Adolescents who probably had delved into the dungeon on a dare. And apparently, they were back.

“Look alive girls,” Berlyn said while reaching for her baseball bat. “I think we got visitors.”

“Now?” Remee looked up shocked. Only one of her eyes was painted and the other still nude. “Couldn't they have waited five more minutes?”

“You look fine,” Momo assured her. But her tone wasn't serious. “Only half like a raccoon.”

“I will show you a raccoon.” Remee pulled out a small rod that extended with a flick of her wrist. Momo was unimpressed until Remee pulled out her second weapon. A small can of pepper spray. It must be the trauma that made Momo take a step back. At first, they didn't know what pepper spray was. To the detriment of Momo who got to experience the effectiveness firsthand by accident.

“Girls!” Berlyn growled. “Visitors. Keep your aggression for them.”

“Yes, Berlyn-sama,” both said in unison and took their place beside Berlyn.

“What is this?” a schoolgirl asked as she walked into the fake shopping arcade that was now Berlyn's home.

“That wasn't here before.”

“Maybe they know what's up.”

“Excuse me?” The leader from the quartet of schoolgirls stepped forward. “What is all this? Do you know?”

Showtime! Berlyn gave her nastiest grin. It only took a little more than a day to find out what Momo, Remee, and her were supposed to be. The smartphone provided the answer. Their little Trio was modeled after a street gang. Delinquent teens who robbed those not brave enough to stand up to them.

“Oh, I know. How about a trade?” Berlyn lifted her baseball bat. She heard Momo and Remee lift their own weapons but didn't pay them much attention. “Here is how it goes. Empty out your pockets. And maybe - if you behave - we will enlighten you.”

Momo and Remee gave a nasty laugh of their own to compliment Berlyn's speech. As end boss dialogs go, this was far from her best, but Berlyn told herself that she was new to this role. She would do better next time.

“You want to rob us in a dungeon? Are you nuts? There could be mobs ambushing us.”

Berlyn gave a hearty and nasty bellowing laugh. “They already are!”

She charged her enemies, but the schoolgirls were not caught off guard for long. Berlyn landed two solid hits on the leader's personal shield before having to fall back. At the same time, one of the schoolgirls cried out. “Ahhh! Peppersprey! She maced me! I can't see.”

To her left, Berlyn heard the meaty impacts of knuckle-dusters against another personal shield. Momo was in on the action and didn't give an inch. Just as Berlyn wanted to rush back in, the schoolgirls recovered from the surprise attack. Now, their superior number came back into play. Three quickly fired arrows flew towards Remee who tried to sidestep a wooden sword wielder to get to the blinded archer stumbling back. Two arrows were all it took to deplete Remee's shield and the third struck home.

As Remee stumbled back, Berlyn charged into the gap. Mighty swings were blocked by personal shields and internally, Berlyn cursed. They weren't breaking through and it was only a limited time until the archers would pick them off one by one. At least, Remee had blinded one of them. That ought to delay the inevitable. Defeat was assured, but Berlyn didn't mind. Such was the life of a dungeon mob. What counted was to squeeze out as much mana from these schoolgirls as possible.

A mighty swing made the shield of Berlyn's opponent falter, but it left her wide open. Some kind of charged arrow knocked her back a few meters. Making her unable to exploit the weakness. Thankfully, Remee was ready and jumped back into the fray. Maybe they had a chance after all.

The brief hope died as Momo sank to her knees. Dozens of arrows had penetrated her body. The second archer had recovered from the pepper spray and had used Momo's focused fighting against one opponent to land a few critical hits.

With Momo down and Berlyn pushed back, Remee stood no chance. Two sword fighters and two archers were too much. Remee went down before she could land another hit.

“You think you won?” Berlyn pushed up and unleashed her ultimate ability. The wide swing of her bat missed all the opponents, but it didn't have to. A concussive force leashed out and balled all intruders over. They all landed in a heap, Berlyn now had the opportunity to strike a few blows. Instead, she took a few steps back. There were more important aspects to being a dungeon boss. With her baseball bat, she pointed at a cluster of fine paper shopping bags. “That's my swag, you hear me? You only get my spoils over my dead body!”

Gone were the days of treasure chests. Now they had tote bags and little paper boxes. Berlyn hadn't known what they were until curiosity won out and she looked. Would adventurers know? As far as Berlyn knew, Lady Dungeon was the first dungeon to push into and integrate into the information age. All the normal things to expect were thrown out the window.

One of the schoolgirls raised her hands. “We didn't come here to-”

Berlyn didn't give her time to finish. A reckless charge brought her into the midst of the group of schoolgirls. Swinging wildly, her bat damaged all of the remaining personal shields. One might think she has gone berserk, but each hit promised a little more mana stayed behind for the dungeon.

This was the end. Charging in like that left Berlyn open to attacks from all sides. Not long after, she fell to the ground. Her hitpoints depleted.

“This was crazy!” The leader nudged Berlyn with her foot. “Is this really a dungeon or did we just kill people?”

“Must be dungeon mobs,” one archer said while pointing at what remained of Momo. “This one is vanishing.”

“I don't like it.” The second archer was rubbing her eyes. They were still red from the pepper spray. “Could have done without it. I mean, mobs carrying pepper spray? What's next? Tasers?”

“Never mind that.” The first archer pushed past her friends. “I wanna know what they meant by swag.”

“Let's,” the other swordwoman agreed. Together they snatched up the biggest tote bag and looked inside. “Look at that! Now, that's what I call loot.” She pulled out a dark blue and silver sequin dress. “An enchantment for resize adjustment and rizz boost.”

“Wait. Wait. Wait. Put it back!” The leader decreed. Her friends looked at her, but they did not get an answer right away. She pulled out a smartphone. “Let's record a vid. This is so insane, it's got to get us viral.”

Berlyn - floating nearby as a ghost - was happy that they were excited by the loot but thoroughly confused as to why anyone wanted to get sick. And how could an illness relate to a recording? There was nothing but to bear witness and find out.

“Heya, peeps and gals!” The leader was all smiles and her posse was posing in the background. “You won't believe what I am about to show you. Remember the dungeon near Fossom Fields we raided last week? We are back. But the dungeon changed. Take a look.”

She twirled around and gave the future audience a glance at the hard work Lady Dungeon had done. Then the leader got serious and continued in a conspiratorial tone. “And get this: The mobs? They looked like us. Schoolgirls. Well, not quite. Like some hoodlums or gang members. They wore leather jackets over their uniform. But the best is still to come.”

The leader motioned for her friends and the loot was brought forth. “Didn't expect to have a haul video inside a dungeon, but here we go.”

They pulled out the dress as if it was the first time. Gushing over it and soon arguing who would get it. The leader swatted any complaints by saying they would roll for it later. There was more loot to go through and arguing wouldn't look well on the vid.

Next, they pulled out a complete make-up kit. Gushing over the exotic choices of color. This kit was clearly unique and not available in some shops. At last, they pulled out a necklace. One heavily enchanted.

“Nice haul,” the leader proclaimed after suspending their recording. “This is sure to get us viral and maybe we can return next weekend. But damn, all that fighting left me sweety. Let's go.”

“Wait!” Archer number one looked at her friends expectantly. “Remember? My phone. The reason we came here.”

Oh, no! The last time Berlyn had seen the smartphone in question, it had been in the core room. Connect to Lady Dungeon through magic. If they saw, people might find out dungeons were truly sentient. There was no telling how they would react. Worse, Berlyn had been defeated. Her body had vanished. There was nothing she could do to make the schoolgirls stop snooping.

Berlyn raced to the dungeon core. The schoolgirls hot on her heels. The worst fear was to see the dungeon core still connected to the smartphone. But as Berlyn arrived, she could see the dungeon core buried in the wall, but not the phone. Relief flooded through her and she noticed that the crystal glowed a lot more than before. Lady Dungeon's gamble had paid off. The remodeling had cost a lot of mana, but the recent fight had recuperated those losses.

“There it is!”

One of the schoolgirls had spotted what Berlyn had missed. Screwed to one of the rock faces was a wire basket. Made to look worn and slightly rusty. Among old junk, the smartphone rested.

Of course, Lady Dungeon had a plan. Berlyn chided herself. She probably had known that the schoolgirls would return. Planning ahead for the day they would do so.

Satisfied with their loot and accomplished task, the schoolgirls left in high spirits. Not even bothering to pester the dungeon core again. All in all, this was a successful dungeon run for Berlyn and her gang too. They had made the invaders spend a lot of mana.

A sudden popping sound made Berlyn stop her musing. Besides the dungeon core, a new smartphone floated in the air. Soon connected. It probably meant the schoolgirls had left the dungeon. For reasons Berlyn wasn't quite sure, dungeons couldn't summon objects and mobs while adventurers were inside. Flashes from the smartphone’s screen told Berlyn that Lady Dungeon was still learning from the EtherWeb at high speeds she couldn't match herself.

Satisfied that all was as it should be, Berlyn floated back to the boss room. Waiting to be respawned.

---

4

---

“Bam. Bam. Bam!” Momo was shadowboxing imaginary fiends. “I nearly had one. I am telling you, one more left hook and I would have gotten through.”

“You were too focused on one,” Remee said without looking up. Her gaze was focused on a small mirror and her smartphone where another make-up tutorial played. She powdered herself with a sponge before giving off a brag of herself. “I took one of them out of the fight for a while. Giving you your opportunity.”

“You both did fine,” Berlyn spoke up before Momo could. Competition was good, but only to a degree. It was time to change the topic before it could get out of hand. “I think we have to go viral.”

That made Remee actually look up. “Going for a disease build? Isn't that up to Lady Dungeon?”

“The schoolgirls mentioned the term a few times and it got me curious. So, I looked it up.” Berlyn lifted her smartphone. “I searched for the term and it is actually something called a meme. According to city slang dot dictionary, it is if information or content is spread throughout the EtherWeb at an increasing rate by consumers who share it. Basically, something so interesting that people share it with their friends and family. Who then share it with theirs. And so on.”

Momo wasn't convinced. “But what do you want to share that needs to go viral?”

“Us. This dungeon.” Berlyn twirled around to Remee. “Remember when you were a knight? Before being a gang member or a lancer. When you hit level five, you learned a skill called taunt.”

“That was a long time ago, Berlyn-sama.” Remee was about to return to applying mascara when the epiphany hit her too. “It was a skill that forced our enemies to attack me, instead of others. Or even to provoke a hesitant foe. That's genius!”

Momo put her hands on her hips and gave her boss and Remee an impatient look. “Care to explain? Because I ain't following.”

“Berlyn-sama wants to taunt them.”

“Taunt who?” Momo prompted again.

“Everyone!” Berlyn gave a conspiratorial glance to her compatriots. “We will go viral and lure everyone and anything who is eligible to raid our dungeon. I don't care what it takes. Provoking them. Luring them in with loot. The promise of fame and renown. Whatever gets them into this dungeon.”

“That is genius,” Momo said as she finally caught on.

“I don't even think it was my idea.” Berlyn held up her smartphone. “Why do we even have these? We are dungeon mobs. To fight intruders we don't need smartphones. But I think Lady Dungeon gave them to us on purpose. To understand those on the outside. And to do what she can't or won't do. Communicate with them. To lure them in and revitalize this dungeon. This dungeon is the first who can do what none could before: we can advertise.”

Berlyn got excited clapping in return that tethered out as confusion took hold. “So, how exactly do we get viral?” Remee asked.

“I don't know yet. Maybe you two have an idea?” Only crickets answered Berlyn. “Well, I think we need to do more research.”

Both her underlings nodded. If anything, browsing through the smartphone now came naturally to them.

---

5

---

The HotVidz app opens and many videos are presented. Most of it is the usual. Guys trying to prove something with a stupid stunt. Make-up tutorials for some exotic cosplay. Financial advice that urges one to buy CryptCoin. With a smattering of clipped movies and TV series scattered in.

After a dancing mother-daughter duo, the next video starts with a shaky camera. Slowly zooming to a dark-skinned beauty who walks towards a pale-skinned woman doing her make-up in front of a cafe.

“Oh, by the goddess, I love your contouring kit.” The first woman gushes. “I see some shades perfect for me. Where did you get it?”

The camera zooms in on Miss pale-and-perky. More shakes indicate a switch of the person holding the camera up. But the subject of the recording doesn't acknowledge it. Instead, continuing in her script.

“Oh, this? I won it in a dungeon dive. So, it was basically free. All I had to defeat some weak mobs.”

“Who are you calling weak?”

The camera turns to show an agitated woman storming closer. She wears a school uniform but with a small leather jacket around her shoulders. Her raven hair contrasts with her piercing blue eyes.

“You thief. That was mine. And all the other loot is mine too! You hear me? This and other swag can be won at the dungeon near Fossom Fields. But don't think it will be easy.” She pulls out a large black baseball bat. “First, you have to go through me and my gang. So, don't go cry running to your moms because we kicked your butts!”

The video fades to black as the proclaimed gang leader tries to pose intimidatingly, but falling short of it. It doesn't take long for the first comments to arrive. Most call the makers out for how cringe and amateur it was. Being rather unkind in the wording. But the video gains shares as viewers toss it to their friends and families. Urging them to see just how bad the acting was. How overdone.

For a moment, the video seemed to stall. Reaching a high before vanishing into the depths of the EtherWeb. Like all content does eventually. But one comment confirms the impossible. The actors are actually dungeon mobs. And while most are busy sending on the video as the newest source of short-lived amusement, quite a few viewers get curious. Enough to make plans to visit Fossom Fields and a certain dungeon nearby.

---

6

---

“Puuuhhh!” Momo exclaimed as she let herself fall onto one of the plastic chairs after respawning. “I hate going viral. Can I get a vacation, boss?”

Berlyn rolled her eyes. “We are dungeon mobs. We don't even get fatigued. And it is not like you can leave.”

“She is just blowing off steam,” Remee remarked while grabbing her makeup supply from her secret hiding spot. Least adventurers loot it. She always respawned without her face done and it is always her first step to remedy that. “But I must admit, after the last century having no one visiting, the last week has been busy.”

“But isn't that great?” Berlyn couldn't comprehend why her companions weren't as ecstatic by the events as she had been. “Nearly one hundred groups had visited. That's a new record. We all leveled up. The dungeon has grown and we even have a few of our old buddies back.”

In a manner of speaking. Berlyn's gang has grown. True to the new theme, all of her underlings had turned out to be women. Contrasting with the all-male underlings when she had been Sir Berous. Her newest gang members, Nippa and Claudia, guarded the first stretch of the fake shopping arcade.

Both of them had already garnered nicknames by the visitors. Claudia was known on the EtherWeb as Clawdia. Most likely because of her wicked long nails that she used in close-quarters combat. She did drop the most gorgeous shades of nail polish. Which mollified most who got a good scratching by her.

Nippa was quickly rebranded as Tipsy. It wasn't hard to guess why. Nippa specializes in the drunken-fighting martial arts style. Swaying and dodging as if totally inebriated. Striking out when least expected. Of course, dungeon mobs couldn't get drunk. But always holding a large bottle of booze sold the illusion.

Both were level one, but they got a few kills when adventurer groups dismissed them as weak and didn't watch out for their quirky fighting styles. They usually made that mistake only once.

“We need to get more deadly,” Momo said with closed eyes. Enjoying the quiet moment. “Have some die before reaching us.”

“The more we fight, the faster we gather mana. Which makes it more likely that Lady Dungeon grants us an additional level up.” Berlyn casually walked to the large cooler before the facade of a convenience store. It was new and both of her companions didn't seem to have noticed it. She gave the lid a few soft pats before fishing out a popsicle. “And there are other perks. Hmm, I wonder how red potion tastes.”

Like a medley of berries. It was the first time Berlyn had a frozen treat and she wanted to enjoy it. However, the peace and quiet didn't last long.

“Is that a popsicle?” Momo jumped up as she saw what Berlyn was licking. “We have ice cream?”

Berlyn gave the cooler a few more pats but remained quiet. As Momo ran over, she cautiously took a few steps back. It was just in time. Momo slammed open the lid and regretted it instantly. Popsicles spilled out as the plastic and frosted glass shifted into flesh. Momo had barely time to scream as a large tongue coiled around her waist and pulled her half into the cooler.

For a solid minute, Berlyn enjoyed her popsicle and even more the view before her. But nothing lasts forever.

“Aren't you gonna help her?” Remee asked as she fished up a popsicle of her own from the ground and unpacked it beside Berlyn.

“I guess.” Berlyn walked over to the mix of cooler and flesh. Gently rested her hand on it as she said: ”That's enough, Loum. You had your fun.”

It was impressive. Momo sailed a whole three meters away from Loum as it spit her out. To say Momo looked pissed was an understatement. Sitting in a puddle of spit and slime, she just looked about done with the world. Her uniform was drenched and her hair was soaked enough that her puffy afro had turned into an abstract sculpture.

Momo looked miserable as she flung slime from herself. Then she caught Berlyn's amused grin. “You knew. And you didn't warn me.”

Berlyn shook her head in fake sorrow. “Oh, poor Momo. If you wouldn't always rush into things, you might have noticed.”

For a few seconds, Momo was fuming. Then, she got the look of mischief on her. “Loum! Lick!”

Crossing her arms, Berlyn didn't look worried. “Loum knows who is the boss around here. There is no way-”

A long slimy tongue impacted with Berlyn's left cheek and traveled up. Getting a good chunk of hair wet with it. Spit dropped down on her jacket and Berlyn needed a moment to process. She had not seen that coming. But she knew how to deal with insubordination.

“Big mistake, Loum,” she growled as she walked towards her baseball bat. But as Berlyn turned around, the mimic-turned-ice box was nowhere to be seen. Just two chuckling goons who didn't know better. “Don't you start!” Berlyn pointed with her bat at Remee. Then made a disgusted face and spit down. “Urgh, I think I got some in my mouth. Remee, be a dear and get me a soda from the vending machine down there.”

Remee for her part gave a deadpan look back. “I am not Momo. Ain't falling for that one.”

“No good help these days,” Berlyn muttered as she threw up her hands and walked to a souvenir shop. Grabbing one of the t-shirts to towel herself off.

---

7

---

Karzord had plenty of experience being a quiet observer. Centuries now, he had been just a bound spirit. Waiting for Lady Dungeon to find a new use for him. Once, he had been Karzord Blackhammer. Dwarven smith and an optional mini-boss. When the adventurers stopped coming, he had been one of the first that Lady Dungeon couldn't afford to keep. Since then, he had been a silent witness to the decline of the dungeon.

A miracle happened and now Karzord was at odds. The dungeon was growing again. Thanks to numerous, but odd adventurers. He witnessed the influence new technology had. And if he hadn't seen the change, he would proclaim this dungeon an entirely new one.

Karzord longed for the day Lady Dungeon would respawn him. But at the same time, he dreaded it. There was a theme and aside from Loum the golem - now a mimic - every dungeon mob had been reinvented as a woman. Chances were Karzord would be no exception.

Idly, he wondered if his friends would even notice the change. Most non-dwarven people couldn't tell apart a male dwarf from a female one. In fact, the change probably wouldn't be as impactful as those for other races. What really worried Karzord was where he would fit into this new theme of a dungeon. He doubted modern shopping malls had a blacksmith as a standard feature. Chance were he had to say goodbye to firing a forge ever again.

But there was still time for Karzord to get used to the idea. Lady Dungeon would need to gather a lot more mana until she was ready to summon him.

Except after two weeks into their new popularity, Karzord suddenly felt a pull on his spirit. He was drawn to an area just newly made. One of the fake shop-fronts now had an interior. A clothing store, he realized. Damn, those dresses looked flimsy. No defensive value at all.

Then, for the first time in two centuries, Karzord respawned.

But not as himself. Immediately, he noticed how high up his viewpoint was. Not a dwarf anymore, he realized with a pang of disappointment. A deep breath with an unfamiliar body and he looked down.

As expected. Karzord was now a woman. Tall and lanky. Soft skin and gentle curves. And a flowery scent that reminded Karzord of-

“Oh, no. She didn't.” Karzord's whisper was soft and melodic.

Slender hands reached up and hesitantly touched his ears.

“SHE MADE ME A FREAKIN’ ELF?”

Berlyn - who just entered the small boutique to welcome an old and new friend - chose in her infinite wisdom to quietly back out. Least the crazy person notices her. Maybe later was a better time.

Indeed, Karzord hadn't spotted her. Too preoccupied with the new changes. Just to be sure, the newly made elf looked at her status. Gone was Karzord Blackhammer. Now, she became Kizari Silverneedle. A fitting name for an elf and for a tailor.

Elven eyes took in the many elegant dresses that lined the walls and hung on shelves. This is what Lady Dungeon had in mind for her? To prance around in flimsy little dresses on these silly high-heeled shoes? Not if Kizari had any word in it!

Fuming, she upended the whole boutique. Searching for anything that might help in her quest. To her delight, she found plenty. Everything a tailor needed. From old-school thread and needle to modern sewing machines. She was even more delighted as she found new fabrics and leather to work with. All of it dyed black. That was more up to Kizari's taste. Not the brightly colored eyesores that crowded the room.

But it was not all hopeless. Kizari had always been creative in her pursuits. That's why she had been a blacksmith and a mini-boss in her previous incarnation. As Karzord Blackhammer, she had created new armor pieces. Powerful ones. But only those who bested Karzord were worthy to take this bounty with them.

Resolute, she wheeled a tailoring mannequin to the middle of the room. First, Kizari needed a base. Yes, one of these dreadful bright dresses had a future. But not all of it. Kizari was liberal in her use of scissors. Most of the dress landed in a heap on the floor. More scraps piled high as Kizari plundered more dresses. Plucking them apart to get a certain cut or just as a template to cut new fabric.

Layers of black joined the dress. PVC, leather, and heavy silk. Details were added. Gems and metallic studs. At last, she stepped away. Her masterwork was complete. Sure, with her limited level and materials, the dress itself was only level six. Still better than everything one might find in the rest of the dungeon.

Despite everything - the change of gender, race, and jobs - Kizari still got it. She had created loot worthy of a mini-boss. Now, she had to prepare for a fight. Back as Karzord Blackhammer, she had animated scraps of metal to become hulking golems. Now, all she had were scraps of fabric. And not enough of them. But as her gaze roamed over the shop, she knew how to remedy that. There were still too many brightly colored dresses untouched by her hand.

A half-hour later, only shreds remained. Now, Kizari was ready. Just in time when four young women entered. By the looks of it, more schoolgirls. This dungeon really had found its audience with them. Kizari didn't mind. She was itching for a fight.

“Come in. Come in.” She gave these wannabe adventurers a toothy grin. “My name is Kizari Silverneedle. And I am an optional mini-boss. You see this dress? It is my latest creation. Beautiful, isn't it.” She grabbed the large oversized scissors that had decorated the door to the backroom. With a twist, the halves came apart. They weren't the sharpest blades, but they would do. And Kizari wouldn't fight alone. With one magic gesture, four fabric golems arose. “You can have my dress. But only if you are worthy!”

A half-hour later, Berlyn dared to enter the boutique again. “Hey. Have you calmed down?”

“Calmed down? I am serenity itself.” Kizari stopped polishing one of her oversized scissor blades with a scrap of fabric. “A good fight will do that. Well, it was nearly a good fight. I was so close to doing two of those in and then they retreated. But I - the great Kizari - prevailed.”

“Great. I just wanted to welcome you back.”

“Wait!” Kizari shouted as Berlyn was about to duck out again. “What are you wearing? Let me see. Come on.” The dungeon boss’ wardrobe got a dismissive once-over. “What level are you now?”

“Four.”

“Four? And you still walk around these rags?” Kizari grabbed Berlyn by the arm and dragged her deeper into her own lair. “We've got to fix that. Unbelievable. Maybe a shorter skirt. Maybe something to prop you up top?”

“I am not flat-chested.” Even to Berlyn herself, it sounded like a whine.

“Of course, not,” Kizari agreed and gave a few pats on the shoulder. “But standing next to Momo and Remee, you might as well be a plank of wood. Now, strip. I've got a lot of work before me.”

Berlyn wound herself out of the grip. “You feel that. I think a new adventurer group arrived. Gotta head to my post. Good to have you. I'll come by. Later.”

Kizari shook her head. “That girl. How did she become a dungeon boss?”

---

8

---

The website loads and there is a steady countdown ticking down while cartoon monsters chase across the screen. The side chat is already open and nearly two hundred viewers are already busy chatting up a storm.

The countdown reaches zero and the view changes. It shows a fountain square in a seemingly open-air shopping mall. Viewers know better. This is what the Fossom Fields dungeon looks like nowadays. Before the fountain are three occupied chairs. On the left is the dungeon mob called Momo. To the right is Remee and in the middle is Berlyn-sama. These three mobs aren't just the boss encounter of the Fossom Fields dungeon, but also the faces representing the dungeon to the outside world.

They are clad in their usual mix of school uniforms that are punked up. But here and there are new additions and the side-chat is immediately picking those up and speculating what that means. Even as Berlyn plasters a big smile on her face and officially begins the stream.

“Welcome! To the first live stream from the Fossom Fields dungeon. As promised for reaching ten thousand subscribers on HotVidz. Now, I know it is not the ideal time. Tuesday morning at six AM. We are a dungeon foremost and attacking adventurer groups take priority. For this reason, this livestream might end early. If so, we apologize in advance. But Tuesday morning is usually the least busiest time. We should have about a half hour. Maybe even a full one. So, let's get started.”

“As promised,” Momo said to take over. “We will answer your questions. Not all, but most of them. Some secrets have to be kept for the good of the dungeon. Let's grab one of the questions at random. Here we go. Remee, this is for you. SkirtChaser69 asks - and I believe quite a few others too - when are you finally creating an OnlySimps account?”

Remee gave a perfect vapid giggle before playfully waving it off. “Oh, you. I could never. Well, I could. But to what end? I am a dungeon mob. OnlySimps is for making money, but I simply have no use for it.”

“But who knows?” Berlyn spoke up. “Maybe there are some high-quality posters scattered through the dungeon. Carefully hidden. Like some kind of basilisk egg. But overall, we try to stay PG around here.”

“Aside from the violence,” Momo admitted.

“The blood and gore,” Remee added. “And murdering each other.”

Berlyn gave a curt nod. “Yes. But aside from that, we are very family friendly.” An added wink clued those in who hadn't gathered that Berlyn wasn't one hundred percent serious. “Moving on. Momo. Next question.”

“This one's from TheUndisputedMoonPrincess. What a username.” Momo winced as she scanned ahead, but then cleared her throat to read aloud. “By now I have fallen victim to Loum the mimic a few times - haven't we all? - and I can never spot them in time. Any hints?”

Just as Momo wanted to answer, Remee cut in. “Look out for Momo's flailing legs sticking out of a random object. That's a pretty good sign where Loum is.”

“Oh, you!” Momo growled and shook her fist at Remee.

“Ladies. Calm down,” Berlyn said before this could derail the live stream. “As for the question: mimics can be spotted if you look for the details. No mimic is perfect. Well, Loum comes close, but there are always inconsistencies. And falling for a mimic is pretty common. But I'll give you this: Loum likes to replace objects that are normally present in the dungeon and they rarely mimic the same object twice in a row. Ask the group before you if they encountered Loum. If they did, you know at least one object that is nearly guaranteed to be safe. Remee, the next question, please.”

“PurseOfHolding asks: what's up with that crazed tailor? I mean her works are fire, but we never defeated her. She fights like a complete maniac.”

“Ah, yes. Kizari Silverneedle.” Berlyn gave a slight wince. “Please have patience with her. She used to be a blacksmith, a male, a mini-boss, and a dwarf. Well, she is still a mini-boss, but the first two points changed. That's a lot to get used to. But I think she took the switch to being an elf the hardest. She was really invested in being a dwarf. That can make you a little unhinged, you know?”

Momo cleared her throat again and whispered just loud enough to be overheard. “You do realize Kizari might watch this livestream?”

“Did I say unhinged?” Berlyn was quick to ask with a nervous giggle. “I mean, just a bit unbalanced. Nothing more. I am sure she will get used to her new role soon enough and calm down. Moving on. Next question. Quick.”

A short giggle was stifled before Momo read the next question out loud. “LoomOfDestiny - ominous name - ask: is it just me or is the dungeon's visitor demographic screwed? I normally only see other girls braving the dungeon.”

“Good question. I would say seventy to thirty.” Berlyn looked to her companions for confirmation and as they nodded, she continued. “I would say the dungeon has schoolgirls and young women as a target audience. I mean, most of the loot is made for them. But we get some boys too. They usually come early in the morning or in the evening. Maybe that's why you haven't seen many.”

“And we have Remee's simps,” Momo added. “They usually raid at noon or late at night.”

“Not all come for me, you know?” Remee added level-headed. “Some are there for you too, Momo. Anyway, the chat is busy discussing the last topic. They are wondering if dungeon mobs changing genders is common.”

Berlyn shrugged. “I can only speak for this dungeon. Before the latest change, we all had been men. I won't lie. Being a woman is new for us and it was a little bit of a shock. But we are dungeon mobs. Change happens. We usually get used to new bodies and roles fairly quickly.”

“I had been a woman before,” Remee said as Berlyn paused for breath.

Momo leaned forward. “Really. When? I can't remember seeing a woman before the last remodel. Or maybe I forgot?”

“Remember when the dungeon meta had been goblins? I was a female fire tender in that L-shaped room in the southern wing.”

“Right. Goblins. I remember. That was a long time ago.” Berlyn gave a sage nod and then looked at the camera to address the audience. “When the dungeon was young, it only had beasts as dungeon mobs. Wolves, bears, and such. The first big remodel shifted mostly to goblins. Then, after a century, it was a knight theme with human-like dungeon mobs. And now, we have a shopping mall and a street gang.”

“Oh, we have another good chat message,” Remee said once Berlyn was finished. “Again, to a previous topic. KendoRando writes that not all men visiting the dungeon are creeps. His buddies and he raid the dungeon for gifts for their girlfriends. Aww, chivalry isn't dead. Boys, we have plenty of nice gifts that will score you major browny points with your significant other. Provided you are brave enough.”

“The next one is by MarmaladeOnFire,” Momo said as Berlyn nodded to her. “It reads: From what I can tell, dungeon mobs die a lot. Don't you get tired of it? And it must be pretty painful. How can you stand it?”

“Pain is-” Berlyn scrunched her face. “Look, we dungeon mobs are spirits. The rules for us are different. We do feel pain, but not in the same way you do. For us, it is just a sensation. Neither pleasant nor unpleasant. Similar to touch or hearing. We register it, but it doesn't trigger involuntary reflexes in us. Now, some of you might say you saw a dungeon mob flinch or grimace in pain. Well, to a certain degree, we dungeon mobs are actors. And reacting to pain is expected. But no, we do not see pain as something negative.”

It was Remee's turn to read aloud. “DrakeSlayer asks: Is it just me or is the layout of the Fossom Fields dungeon weird? Most dungeons are a maze and hard to navigate. But Fossom Fields lacks branching-off paths. One can ignore and bypass up to ninety percent of the dungeon and go directly for the boss fights with minimal goons in the way. What's up with that?”

“Uh, yeah. Good question. I wondered the same in the beginning. I mean even our official map is straightforward.” Berlyn unfolded a map that looked like any other layout of a shopping mall. “It is unusual, but it works. To be honest, not every group goes for a boss fight with us anymore. The dungeon opted to have as many mini-boss fights available as possible. Each with their unique reward.”

“Some dip in to raid Aunty Helen at Helen's Corner.” Momo nonchalantly added. “Going for the many treats the convenience store has to offer. And they are happy to abscond with popsicles and candy bars. Others like to challenge Kizari Silverneedle for some unique fashion loot.”

“I personally raid Dungeon Nails a lot.” To underline her point, Remee held up her hands and showed off her painted nails. “They don't just have different nail polish, but make-up too. All exclusive to our dungeon.”

“I still can't believe Genovina's Bistro is so popular,” Berlyn remarked while shaking her head. “For those of you who don't know, Genovina is a rather unusual mini-boss. She offers courses of delightful dishes. But they are all poisoned. If you have acquired a high poison resistance, you are in for a treat. But not many have made it to the desserts. Most tapped out. Voluntary or they run out of health points. Yes, it is a Bistro to die for.”

“I think with eleven mini-bosses, there is something for everyone,” Momo added. “And if something is missing, chances are the dungeon will add it in time.”

“And once the arcade is full?” Berlyn gave a lazy shrug. “Who knows? Lady Dungeon might branch out and create other areas. Return to a more traditional layout. But right now, this layout serves us well. I heard that, at times, there are long waiting times to even get into the dungeon. With a traditional layout, the time spent inside would be longer and the resulting waiting time even more so.”

“Uh, I think the next question slots in nicely at this point.” Momo picked up her smartphone to read it aloud. “How come the Fossom Fields dungeon changed so suddenly and is there a way to spur on other dungeons to do the same?”

“Well, we can't tell too many secrets of the dungeons.” Berlyn leaned forward to the camera and continued in mock hushed tones. “But I will say this. Dungeons learn from those who visit. They need input. Inspiration. The Fossom Fields dungeon had to change when after one hundred years of no visitors at all a new kind suddenly entered. And, you know, sometimes it is worth it to leave something behind for the dungeon. A type of object you desire to find more of. Or maybe a book with content that might inspire. The more data a dungeon has, the more likely it might react.”

“Uh, boss.”

Remee leaned over to show something from her smartphone. As a reaction, Berlyn grew pale but quickly masked it with a nervous laugh.

“Someone from the chat asked why I said Lady Dungeon. Is there some hidden boss or something? No, of course not. That's just a silly joke between us. You see, when the dungeon modernized, we all got turned from men to women. So, a few of us started to joke we should gender-bend the dungeon too. So, now and then, we refer to the dungeon as if being a Lady. Nothing more. Silly insider joke.”

“Speaking of dungeons,” Momo cut in before Berlyn could run her mouth even more. “PotThrower64 wants to know what is the purpose of dungeons?”

“A good question!” Berlyn said a little too loud. “And the answer is: I don't know. No, seriously. I don't. My guess is as good as yours. As a personal theory, I like to think that we help prepare visitors. I mean the gods gave the sentient species stats and the leveling system. Where better to train and gather experience points than some designated area with a high enemy count that remains contained? That's what I like to think we do as dungeon mobs. Help you by providing the opportunity to grow. But is that the truth? No clue, but I like to think so.”

Once again, Remee had monitored the chat and was now urging Berlyn to read it. Immediately, she looked concerned and it grew in intensity as she read on.

“Alright,” she eventually said, facing the camera with as much seriousness as she could muster. “Time for real talk. And this is important. Some of you commented on how nice it is as a dungeon mob. Not really feeling pain, having a purpose, not aging, and we have fun with each other. So, the question came up about how you can become a dungeon mob yourself. The short answer is: you don't.”

Berlyn let a few seconds pass to let her statement sink in. “Now for the long answer. There is a big distinction between sentient species such as you and dungeon mobs. You have a soul and we are wild spirits that have made a compact with the dungeon. It isn't any different than your summoner classes that need something to animate your summons. They entice lesser or greater spirits to animate the creatures they summon. The same for dungeon mobs. You can think of us as contract workers. The dungeon offered a place and we answered the open call.”

“Now, some of you might point out that there are stories out there of fallen adventurers that returned as dungeon mobs. Have their souls been stolen? Have I lied to you?” Berlyn scooted her chair closer to the camera. “Dungeons can't handle souls. That's the truth. But as I said, they learn from you, adventurers. They might create a dungeon mob that resembles a person you know, but it isn't really them. Do not think that if you die within a dungeon your soul will remain there. So, those that just proposed in chat to forgo any resurrection insurance and seek death here in the dungeon, I say this: this will not work. You will die your true death and you will go on to the afterlife. And I guarantee you that-”

She paused as if she had heard a shout off-camera. Then Berlyn scrunched her face again. “Looks like an adventurer group arrived. Time to get back to our duty. But remember: only enter a dungeon with your soul bound to a method of resurrection. Don't be a fool. I will make a PSA vid later. But for now, we sadly have to end the stream. Until next time.”

---

9

---

“Let them come! I am itching for a fight.”

Berlyn could understand Momo's sentiment. Business was good and the mana was flowing. After the last group, Lady Dungeon rewarded them with a level-up. Momo and Remee were now level five, while Berlyn had reached level seven. Again. It was a far cry from the high levels they used to have. Back when they had been Sir Berous and his lancers Moran and Sarlem. Far had the dungeon fallen in the last century, but now they made good progress building back up again.

A small ding came from Remee's smartphone. “Looks like you might get your wish. Got a message from one of the mini-bosses. Intruder is going directly for us. Ignoring all the mini-bosses.”

“Only one? That's either bravery or stupidity.” Of course, Berlyn could imagine another reason. No matter how high one leveled, there was always someone stronger. But this lone intruder might have miscalculated. Because the Trio just had a level up each and we're stronger than they had ever been since the remodel. “No matter. Don't get sloppy or take it easy.”

As the single adventurer appeared, Berlyn couldn't believe her eyes. It was a young girl who wore a military uniform one size too big. The olive drab was covered in pink ribbons and netting. Somehow complimenting instead of clashing. Her long hair - also dyed pastel pink - was styled into twin ponytails that had plenty of curls. Two cat ears poked out of her mane. Berlyn thought they might be real until she saw the headband that kept them in place. To round off the absurdity, the girl of maybe thirteen or fourteen years carried a large stuffed bunny with her.

“Heya! Oh my gosh. It is really you. Berlyn-sama! Momo and Remee. I am such a fan.” Caught in this unfamiliar situation, the Trio slowly retreated. But for each step, their fan took two or three. “Say, can we take a selfie?”

“Sure,” Berlyn hesitantly agreed. This wasn't the first time they had been asked for one. However, this time they were left unbalanced and bewildered. “You know this is a dungeon, right?” Berlyn asked as the girl snapped the first of a few photos. “Do your parents know you are here? How old are you anyway?”

“Dad knows,” the girl replied absent-mindedly. Browsing through the pictures and seeing how they turned out. “He says I should go easy on you guys.”

“Easy on us? Listen, girl, this is a dungeon. You shouldn't be here. It is dangerous. Because we are dungeon mobs and even if you are a child, we ain't going easy on you.”

“I'll be fifteen in a month.” The girl stepped a few paces away but jumped there on the spot with unbridled energy. “And I really want to fight you. Dad says you only really know someone you faced in battle.”

Berlyn looked at Remee - who shrugged in return - and Momo. Both looked confounded by the situation. But they were dungeon mobs. They had a job to do. Berlyn grabbed her baseball bat. “You asked for it.”

Even more excitement exploded onto the girl's face. “Momo! Catch!”

Momo caught the rabbit plushie more by instinct than anything else. It was a mistake. As soon as she made contact, the bunny burst into an enormous pink dust cloud. From head to toe, Momo was pink and only her eyes stood out. Blinking rapidly as if she couldn't believe what just happened.

That the explosion of dust left a Momo-shaped silhouette behind their companion was lost on Remee and Berlyn. They sprang into action immediately. Berlyn had her bat ready and Remee was quick to extend her barton.

The girl was rather calm as two weapons arced her way. Berlyn's bat was blocked by an arm. Not near the tip, but close to the handle. Robbing it of most of the momentum and leverage. Stepping even closer to Berlyn, the girl outright evaded Remee's swing and had the audacity to trip her with a strategically placed foot.

Remee went down in a heap and before Berlyn could comprehend it, she joined her. Suddenly finding herself grabbed, her world turned upside down, and then flying through the air. While squishy, Remee was not a nice place to land. Or rather, forcefully smash into.

“You!” While Berlyn and Remee tried to untangle themselves from each other, Momo regained her senses. She also looked pissed. Shaking some of the dust off, Momo looked like a mushroom shedding spores. That she wore an afro only intensified the resemblance. Knuckle-dusters were slipped on. “You will regret that!”

Teen or no teen, Momo showed that she wasn't holding back. Going for brutal and quick strikes. It helped little as the girl easily evaded each punch. Like water, she flowed where Momo wasn't. Always being a step ahead of the dungeon mob.

Just as Remee and Berlyn got up, a Momo sailed through the air. Bowling over Remee. She might have struck Berlyn too, but the dungeon boss managed to dodge at the last moment. Grabbing her baseball bat, Berlyn regarded her opponent. The girl might be young, but she fought like she had a few levels on them. And aside from the exploding plushie, she had only used martial arts to deal with them.

As much as it smarted to lose to a tween, Berlyn recognized the likely outcome. Centuries of experience told her just that. It changed the dynamic of the fight. Their goal was not to kill the invader anymore. Now they had to stretch out the fight and make the girl spend as much mana as possible.

“Mana,” Berlyn hissed at her companions. They would know what the order meant. Then she prepared for a new assault.

“Parlay!” The girl suddenly exclaimed. “I demand a parlay.”

Berlyn stopped the minuscule momentum she had from the dash she was just about to execute. “What's a parlay?”

“Pirate term,” Remee said. Looking worse for wear after having gotten up the second time. There was no mirror nearby or Remee would get furious about her ruined make-up. Instead, she was free to explain. “I think it means something like an armistice. A lull in a fight to negotiate.”

“We aren't a pirate dungeon.” Even speaking it, Berlyn knew her statement was childish. “Fine. Say your piece.”

The girl straightened up and for the first time since entering the dungeon, she looked serious. “I have a gift.”

Remee clapped. “I like gifts.”

“Her last gift blew up in my face,” a grumpy Momo pointed out. As if the pink dust - now partially on Berlyn and Remee too - wasn't enough of a reminder.

“It's for Lady Dungeon.” The girl's statement brought any banter to a halt. “That's what you call her, isn't it? I know dungeons have avatars, but they are rarely seen. So, most dismiss it as a rumor. But I found sources.” For a moment, she stopped to grab her olive military backpack that had a pink camouflage pattern sprayed onto it. From its depth, she produced a journal that bulged with additional scraps and photos added in. “This is for her. I know dungeon mobs don't like people visiting the dungeon core. So, I won't. Will you take my gift to her for me?”

For a moment, Berlyn hesitated. She was perplexed. Had she given too many details away on the livestream? No, she never had mentioned that dungeons had avatars. And the girl sounded very sure of herself. She was knowledgeable to a degree that made Berlyn uncomfortable. She wanted the invader out and there was one way to achieve this goal.

“I can't confirm that this dungeon has an avatar,” Berlyn said cautiously, but then stepped forward and held out her hand. “But I will take your gift and present it.”

The girl gave a serious nod that looked misplaced on a young face like hers. The journal switched hands and then the girl walked past the group. Suddenly bright and cheerful again.

“Thanks!” She waved enthusiastically while walking backward to the dungeon entrance. “It was nice to meet you all. Let's do this again when you have gained a few more levels. Sorry about the powder, Momo, oh and Remee, my friends love your make-up tutorials. See you soon Berlyn-sama.”

And then, the girl skipped off. Leaving behind three very confused dungeon mobs. All this for a journal as a gift. Was it a trap? Some kind of danger? Berlyn eyed the journal critically. The binding was pink and in purple letters, it proclaimed ‘tactical kawaii’ on the front. The whole journal was a mess of stitched-together ideas and materials. Fabric and stickers were glued onto the pages. In between were sentence fragments and detailed drawings. Showing off outfits just like the girl had been wearing. Military and combat-oriented, but twisted into the cute with lace, plush, and plenty of pastel colors.

The journal was ordinary in material and Berlyn could detect no foreign magic on it. Utterly harmless. A part of her wanted to throw the journal into the trash. Just on principle. Berlyn didn't understand the gift or its intention. But it was a gift. To Lady Dungeon no less. And as such, it had to be presented.

A lot of the dungeon had changed, but the core room had been a steady presence in its simplicity. For centuries, the only real difference had been the steadily growing size of the crystal that commonly was referred to as a dungeon core. Surrounded by rough stone. Last time, there had been an unexpected addition. A wire basket with the sign “lost & found”. A necessity, Berlyn reasoned.

Stepping now into the core room, Berlyn barely recognized it. Gone was the misshapen natural form. Instead, it was square. White marble columns in the corners did well to frame the room. Contrasting with the dark marble tiles that lined the floor and walls. A thick red carpet led Berlyn past framed pictures to the highlight of the room. There it was. The dungeon core still dominated one rockface. But now it was cordoned off by a thick red rope. Modern lamps illuminated the room, but it was still evident that much more of the dungeon core was lit up from within. Having regained some of the mana lost in the past months that had been lost in the last century. Floating over two small pedestals, two smartphones were in heavy use as text, video, and pictures flitted across their screen.

“Lady Dungeon.” Berlyn bowed deep. Clutching the journal in her hands. “I am sorry to disturb you. There was a visitor. She left a present for you.”

Even as a dungeon boss, Berlyn was hesitant to visit the core. Normal mobs stayed away. Now, she wondered how to proceed. A gift was unheard of. Normally, if Lady Dungeon took notice of a worthwhile item, she used magic to transport it to the core room.

It took a moment, but a third small pedestal rose from the ground in front of the core. Berlyn took it as a sign and placed the journal there. Another deep bow and she left the room.

She didn't have to look back to know the journal was lifted up. That thin strand of magic connected it to the dungeon core. Lady Dungeon was always eager to learn more.

---

10

---

“Come on. Come on. Come on.”

Momo's urging was in vain as Remee got another text. “No dice this time either. They raided the convenience store. Now on their way out. Guess we aren't needed again.” With a shrug, she returned to painting her nails.”

Momo flung herself on one of the nearby plastic chairs and crossed her arms over her ample chest. “Why did Lady Dungeon make so many mini-bosses? Hardly anyone is coming for us anymore. Berlyn-sama! Maybe we should do another loot advertisement? Show what people can win here.”

“Sure.” Berlyn didn't even look up from her smartphone. Lazily doom-scrolling through meaningless content. It wasn't just Momo or Remee who were bored. “Later. And don't guess at Lady Dungeon's motives. She has her reasons.”

All three looked up when a barely felt wave traveled through the dungeon. A vibrating note passed them by and headed in the direction of the entrance. The air pricked and their hair in their arms stood up. They all knew the feeling. Change was in the air.

“Oh, Momo. Now you have done it,” Remee said in a mocking consolatory tone. “You angered Lady Dungeon. Now the dungeon is changing. Maybe you too. Hope she is merciful, or you might end up as a giant rat in a sewer sublevel.”

Momo threw her a look that was half glare and half i-get-your-joke-but-it-ain't-funny. “If so, I'll come by and bite you.”

“Shush.” Berlyn stood up. “Lady Dungeon isn't like others. There has never been a demeaning demotion here and I doubt she will start now.” It was normal for Berlyn to check out changes inside the dungeon, but now she felt a familiar pull that urged her. “Come on. Let's check it out.”

Both her companions nodded. They must feel it too. The urging to move. Dungeon mobs knew on an instinctual level just where exactly they were stationed. Theirs just had changed. It didn't mean they weren't allowed to roam, but if adventurers entered, they better be in their positions.

Their goal was close to the entrance. Had they been demoted? Berlyn had thought they did well. But now, looking at her status, the designation of her role was empty. A horrible feeling in her stomach developed and it grew as Nippa and Claudia - by fans of the dungeon also known as Tipsy and Clawdia - passed them by.

“What's going on?” Nippa asked as they passed each other. “We leveled up twice and our new roles are gang leaders.”

“Beats me.” Berlyn shrugged while she walked backward to continue their brief talk. “I think I am still the end boss. Maybe Lady Dungeon is building a second level?”

“But second levels come after the first,” Claudia pointed out.

Berlyn could only give another shrug. “Is any of this new dungeon layout traditional?”

A moment later, they left the area of the mock open-air shopping arcade. Here, the dungeon started, but a new addition became quickly apparent. A new path forked off from the little street that led from the entrance to the regular dungeon.

Right in the middle of the fork stood a signpost that caught their attention. An arrow to the left said “Easy” in bright neon-green letters and pointed to the mall area. New graffiti announced this area to be claimed by a gang called the tipsy-slashers.

“I think this is us,” Momo said with a newfound bright smile. She pointed at the other arrow. With angry red paint, it said: “Hard.”

“Must be,” Berlyn agreed. “Let's see what Lady Dungeon has in store for us.”

The path to their new post was littered with advertisements of many kinds. Billboards and posters clued them in that they were heading to the Fossom Fields Arena. Taunting adventurers were banners and signposts that declared “Berlyn-chan and the Heavy Knockers” as the reigning champions. The arena even had a mascot. A cartoonish mix between a cat and a red panda. With a color scheme of pastel pink and purple.

Berlyn expected a stadium for sporting events, but the description was apt for the old definition: fit for gladiatorial fights. Entering through a small lobby, Berlyn and her group entered an oval expanse. She ignored the two lines of cheap plastic spectator seats and entered her new home turf.

Her shoes squeaked slightly on the heavily coated concrete floor and she took in the unusual sight. The area was littered with barricades and hurdles. Creating a maze of a kind. These defensive obstructions didn't even look very sturdy. Made with sheets of glued and pressed wood - her mind supplied the term plywood - or sacks of leather imitation filled with sand or even air. No, they wouldn't last long in a serious onslaught. But they would break up the field of vision for anyone who dared to enter. The drawback was that it obstructed Berlyn's sight too.

Worse, her whole group relied on melee weapons. While the layout allowed her to sneak up on enemies, it enabled the same for her foes. There had to be some kind of trick to it. If only Berlyn knew what Lady Dungeon had in mind.

“I don't get the paint,” Remee muttered aloud as she stepped close to one of the hurdles in the arena. Splotches of random colorful paint were scattered over every surface. There was no rhyme or reason to them. “It's like a maniac flung goblets of paint here.”

“Oh! I know what this is!” Momo suddenly exclaimed. “I saw videos. It's called paintball. They have these guns that shoot small paint-filled orbs that splash when they hit something.”

“Lady Dungeon expects us to-”

Whatever Remee was about to say was cut off as change came over her. She remained the same, but her outfit and gear shifted into a new form. Remee nearly lost her balance as her shoes gained small wheels below her soles. These inline skaters - as they later found out they were called - were mostly white with metallic pink and blue accents. This color scheme continued upwards. Overknee socks clad most of her legs and the rest was hidden underneath a short frilly skirt. Remee's belly was unprotected as she wore only a belted halter top. Her long blond hair - now with pastel pink and blue highlights - was styled into twin pigtails.

Her equipment was different too. By now, Berlyn knew what pistols were. But the two pistols Remee held up looked only vaguely like the deadly implements she knew from movies and television. Instead of a normal magazine, it appeared to have a cylinder. And on top sat a large hopper that rattled when Remee unhooked the weapons from her belt and lifted them up.

“Those are paintball guns,” Momo clarified. “How are you supposed to fight with those? They sting, but don't do real damage.”

Remee shrugged. Then lined up the guns to aim for one of the barricades.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Little balls raced through the air and splattered on impact. All three expected more splotches of colorful paint. They found themselves disappointed in the best way. The balls of the left gun left some clear fluid that soon started to bubble and hiss. Eating itself into the material. The ammo of the second gun exploded into a fine green miasma. Lingering in the area for foolish people to step into.

“An acid and a poison cloud. Nice!” Remee grinned. Clearly pleased with her new load out. “Oh, Momo. Looks like it is your turn.”

Momo was too busy with her transformation to comment. Just like with Remee, it started low. Her shoes morphed and then gained wheels. Unlike Remee's, hers were two pairs of wheels on each shoe. Momo had her own color scheme that revealed itself as her closing morphed into a unitard with high cutouts for her legs and a deep cleavage. It was pastel pink with cyan trim and complimented her dark skin nicely.

In addition, she gained a mix of a belt and a very short skirt. Not hiding anything, but giving her own pair of paintball guns a place to hook into. Her lovely afro they had gotten used to seeing flattened and braided itself into need cornrows that transitioned to fine long braids. It gave Momo a fierce and sporty look.

Giving her own paintball guns a good look, Momo raised a single eyebrow. To confirm her suspicion, she fired a few shots with one of her pistols. It left wide splotches of black sticky residue. No one of the trio dared to touch it. Being sure it would glue them to the surface. Her other gun shot bright red balls that burst into small gouts of flame. A combo revealed itself as she hit one of the tar patches. A larger explosion sent a wave of heat over the area. What remained of the tar was aflame and looked like it would burn for a while.

“My turn,” Berlyn said while rubbing her hands in anticipation. Hopefully, her upgrade would be good. Remee and Momo had towered over her before. But now, with roller and inline skates, they gained even more of a height advantage. It was time to change that.

A familiar prickling sensation clued Berlyn in that it was starting. Only to give her a shock as Remee and Momo grew even taller. No, she was shrinking. That was not fair. Her whole wardrobe changed and it became apparent that she wouldn't be as scantily dressed as her minions.

Her heels were slightly raised as she found herself wearing a curious mix of Mary-Jane's with combat boots. It was colored gray with pink accents. Going up, she wore striped thigh-high socks. Gray and pink again. Her mini skirt had layers to it. The lowest was a solid textile. Above which rested two layers of camouflage netting. These wouldn't hide anything as the gray and pink didn't really blend with the background of the arena.

Her top might have counted for a military fatigue, if it had fewer bows and ribbons. Not to mention a more traditional camouflage pattern and colors. Pastel kittens of all kinds hardly fit the military norm, but could dazzle the eyes too.

Unlike Remee's and Momo's weapons, hers weren't hooked to a belt. Instead, Berlyn had two shoulder holsters. Of course, in pink. The gun within contrasted with their matte black finish. These looked more like the weapons Berlyn had seen in movies and television. Had she real weapons? Curious, she pulled it out and studied it in detail.

They looked very real, but she noticed a few key differences. The muzzle was too small for regular bullets and instead of a known gun manufacturer, the engravings said: “ProDungeon Airsoft.”

“What's Airsoft?” Berlyn asked aloud. “That doesn't sound very dangerous.”

“No, it is actually more dangerous, I would say.” After a moment, Momo got the hint that she might want to explain too. “Airsoft is a bit like paintball. Instead of a ball of paint, it uses pressurized air to propel a small pellet forward. Because it is so small and the pressure is higher, people say they hurt a lot more if you get it. But here? Who knows? Paintball isn't supposed to be played with acid and poison either.”

“Only one way to find out.” Berlyn took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. From movies and TV, she expected a mighty kickback, but the Airsoft gun barely bucked in her hands. Just like with the paintball gun, the sound was more along the lines of Pops, instead of Bangs. Just higher in pitch. But the result-

Seeing the impact sites made Berlyn smile. Small the pellets might be, but they packed a punch. They outright pierced through the plywood. Leaving surprisingly large holes in their wake. But they had nothing on the sand-filled obstacles. Here, fist-sized impact craters hemorrhaged sand.

That gave Berlyn reason to grin like a hungry wolf. “Now, that is an upgrade.”

“Aww, you look so cute when you smile like that. Come on. Let me-”

Remee's hand reached out for Berlyn's head. The dungeon boss was about to protest, but it fell away as Remee's slender fingers started to scritch behind her ears. It was such a wonderful feeling Berlyn didn't know she could experience. For the moment, she was in heaven. Then her reasoning returned. How exactly was Remee scratching her behind not just one ear, but two at the same time? With only one hand. Did it matter?

A purring sound filled Berlyn's ears. Vibrated through her skull. And to her surprise, she found out that it originated from within her. Radiating out from her throat. That broke the spell and Berlyn swatted the offending hand away. “Stop that!” Berlyn gave Remee an angry glare. It had felt wonderful and a part of her already missed it. Making herself mad at herself for interrupting it. “I am not some pet you can play around with. I am your boss.”

Remee gave a pout that was record-breaking in its intensity. “But you appeared to like it. Come here, Kitty. Let me put you again.”

Berlyn retreated another step while swatting the next attempt to pet her away. Then it dawned on her. “Kitty?” Berlyn reached up. There weren't ears where normal ears belonged. Instead, she found them higher on her head. “I have cat ears?”

“And a cat's tail,” Momo pointed out. Literally, as she pointed just behind Berlyn. “You appear to be some kind of cat-girl hybrid. And a cute one. I kind of want to pet you myself.”

Indeed. A pink tail swished behind Berlyn. Now that she was aware of it, she could feel it too. This was ridiculous. What kind of dungeon boss was cute? She was supposed to be fierce, big, and scary. And why pink? On a hunch, she picked up a strand of hair and looked at it. As expected, gone was her black mane. Pastel pink was her new look.

This was not good. Remee and Momo appeared to lose the fight to not pet her. Slowly crowding her. And then there would be more scritches. Berlyn couldn't have that. In truth, she might not be able to resist next time her ears were attacked. She needed a distraction. And quick.

“Loooooouuuuuummmm!”

The large bellowing shout made the three of them look around. From the entrance, they saw movement. A large creature ducked to get through the passage. Then it stood up and Berlyn came face to face with the mascot of the area. A five-and-a-half meter tall plush hybrid of cat and red panda. Slowly making its way over to the trio in a waddle.

“Loum, is that you?”

“Looouuum.”

This was unusual. Not that Loum was a golem of some kind. They had been one for centuries. While golems weren't the fastest creatures, they weren't as slow as Loum now was. Taking one tiny step on its stubby legs after another. It wasn't unusual to have strange proportions either. Normally, limbs would be longer for greater reach and stride. And the head would be smaller. To give attackers less chance of hitting something vital.

Loum now was the opposite. Stubby legs - for a creature of Loum's size, a meter was well short - and arms that couldn't even touch each other. They didn't even have hands. Appearing more like fluffy flippers of a dolphin or whale. The body was large and had some girth to it. But it was overshadowed by the huge head. Large cartoonish eyes looked around and clearly, it wasn't practical to have enormous ears.

Berlyn couldn't figure out how Loum was to attack foes. They were slow and didn't have the reach to do much of anything. The size provided them with a decent pool of hitpoints and surely their plush exterior could dampen some hits. But it also made them an easy target. Maybe if Loum managed to fall onto someone, the body check might cause some damage.

“Loooouuuum.”

They appeared to be happy as it reached the group. And then Berlyn saw why. Large cartoonish eyes had clocked Momo nearby. What was it with the golem's affection for Berlyn's right-hand woman? Loum's large mouth turned to a giant grin. Slowly opening further and further. The fleshy cavity that opened up reached nearly from ear to ear and was horrifying enough. The rows and rows of shark-like teeth didn't help either. What really made Berlyn nearly shit her panties was the large prehensile tongue that emerged and aimed to lick Momo.

While shocked, Momo reacted immediately and avoided slime and hurt as she skated off on her roller skates. A good thing, as Loum's tongue had entirely too many barbed teeth embedded in it. Right now, Berlyn felt so blessed to not need sleep. If she did, surely Loum's maw would haunt them. And then Berlyn understood. Loum had been a golem and a mimic in the past. But now, they were both. An unassuming creature that could split to catch the unwary.

“Alright! Settle down.” It was time to get the show on the road. Berlyn knew that a new adventurer group could enter at any time. “Loum, welcome to the team, but please stop trying to lick Momo. And don't try to lick me either. Just to be clear.” Loum turned to Remee who was quick to nope out by crossing her arms in a big X.

“Let's recap so we are prepared for a fight.” Berlyn waited for the group to gather. And for Loum to spool in their tongue. “Alright. Loum is our tank. Most adventurers might underestimate them based on their slow movement and lack of evident weapons. We can use that. Momo and Remee. Your weapons have range, but it is limited. But you have speed. Perfect for flanking. Especially here in the arena. What I want you to do is strike and scoot. Taunt the enemy. Your goal is to get whoever is foolish enough into Loum's reach.”

Berlyn revived nods all around. “Good. I won't be staying back either. My guns allow me for quite a good range and damage. And given my small body, I can use the barricades for excellent cover. Yes, it is coming together. I think I know what Lady Dungeon has in mind. All we have to do is be tactical about-”

She fell quiet as the epiphany hit her. It hadn't even been a week since that young girl had wiped the floor with them and left her gift. A journal about Tactical Kawaii. She actually had to look up what Kawaii was. Something about being cute, cuteness, and the culture around it. Now she remembered the many details of the journal. Made real on her person and in aspects all around the arena. Part of Berlyn was angry. She didn't ask to be a cat-girl. Or to be cute. In fact, it was humiliating. But she was a dungeon mob and if Lady Dungeon wanted her to be this, Berlyn would deal with it.

“Berlyn-chan?” Remee looked concerned.

“Nothing,” Berlyn said briskly. “I just realized something. Doesn't matter. So, we have to practice working together. Any questions or suggestions?”

Animated, Momo raised her arm. “Sort of. What you got in your backpack.”

Right. She was wearing a backpack. It was on the smaller side. Taking it off, Berlyn saw it was utilitarian in nature. Meant to be expanded as needed with velcro patches and belt extensions. Fit for the military, if it weren't for the many cute keychain figurines that dangled from it. Of course, patches and ribbons further plunged it in the direction of Kawaii. There was only one compartment to open.

“A plushie?” Remee asked as Berlyn withdrew one.

“A few,” Berlyn confirmed. But this plushie was kind of heavy. And as she turned it around, she spotted a metal ring. That gave her a mischievous grin. “Fire in the hole,” she shouted before pulling the ring and attached pin. Then threw the plushie past a barricade.

An explosion rocked the arena. One moment the barricade was there. The next, it was leveled. Raining debris on them. Not that Berlyn minded. Her smile turned wolfish. “Grenades. I can work with that.”

---

11

---

The smoke of the plush-grenade cleared bit by bit. Berlyn aimed her guns and expected her foe to jump out any second now. They were close. So close. Level-ups and new gear were one thing. But working together did make or break a team. This time, she thought they had done great. Until the battle slipped into chaos. She had no idea where Remee and Momo were. She could still see Loum up in the distance, but the golem was weak to ranged attacks. Easy pickings for a seasoned adventurer group.

Mentally, she willed the smoke to clear faster.

Any moment now.

Nothing.

The last wisps dissipated and revealed no enemy. At least, none standing. There were parts of her target. Scattered around. Their hit points had to have been lower than she had thought. Not for the first time Berlyn was bemused by how hit points worked. Until depleted, a body could shrug off pretty much anything and keep going. But once the hit points hit zero, any body pretty much begged to come apart at the seams.

Her foe was defeated, but Berlyn couldn't relax yet. There were still enemies around. Mentally, she counted down. The adventurers had entered as a group of five. One, they picked off together as an ambush. While being chased, they led the group to Loum, who got a struggling snack out of it. Probably not a very nice way to die.

But then, her team got split up. Each of them being hunted down by one of theirs. Now that Berlyn was triumphant, she had to support her teammates. Provided they were still standing and fighting. Both were big If's.

A strangled cry to her right made Berlyn twist around. An adventurer - more like a hobbyist dungeon runner - came out flailing. Berlyn didn't even need to act. He was clawing at the remains of his gas mask. Chewed through by acid and dumped full of green slime that still vaporized into a green deadly mist. Not five steps away from Berlyn, the poor sod stumbled and fell. A second later, the poison had done its deed.

“Nice work, Remee,” Berlyn said sotto voce.

“Thanks!” Worse for wear, but smiling, the pale beauty skated to the clearing. Skillfully doing slalom around debris and craters. Bloodied, but not beaten, she gave a big smile. “I count four down. Where is Momo?”

“Let's find-”

Nearby, a fireball exploded. Sending a big cloud of black smoke up. Whatever the source was came closer. And it was screaming in panic.

The last adventurer tried to run past Berlyn and Remee. But it was hard going. The poor man was truly tared, but not feathered. Instead, he dragged one of the large arena banners with him. Glued to him by copious amounts of tar. Courtesy of Momo. And he was clearly running for his life.

“Hey guys!” Momo stopped before her companions. “One moment.” She carefully aimed and let out a single shot.

The projectile hit and the banner caught on fire and started to slowly inched towards the ill-fated man. Reminding Berlyn very much of a fuse. Then, he was around the corner.

“Don't worry,” Momo assured them. “He won't get-”

Another explosion and Momo grinned like a maniac. Pumping her fist in victory. “Finally! That's my fourth try.”

“Your fourth try?” Remee echoed before Berlyn could. “Did no one teach you not to play with your food?”

“Well, it's Loum's food. Not mine.” Even to Momo, the excuse sounded flimsy.

“Looouuum!” As if called, the golem slowly lumbered closer. Snatching up displaced limbs from Berlyn's last victim. They truly had earned their snack. Large chunks had been blasted off their plush skin and one of the arms was outright cut off.

“What horrible ways to die.” Berlyn's musing didn't last long. Putting it away with a shrug. “Then again, we are dungeon monsters.” Not to mention that adventurers had pain-mitigating skills and access to resurrection magic. “Wait. That was the last one? Does that mean we finally succeeded in defending the dungeon again?”

Despite a level up, new weapons, and abilities they had been overrun the first few times. But the last battle had been a fair fight and the tactics they had come up with finally paid off.

As the arena started to repair, they knew it was over. Cheers broke out among the group. Finally! It had been centuries since their last victory. Not one of the truces when a group retreated, but a group wipe that left no adventurer standing.

Quite suddenly, Remee and Momo grew quiet. Their attention was caught by something behind Berlyn. Even Loum ceased all movement and mimicked a statue. Was there a new adventurer group already?

Slowly, Berlyn turned around.

Like walking on a cloud, Lady Dungeon had entered the arena. Gone was the heavy medieval dress. Instead, she wore a silken evening gown that rivaled those of celebrities who attended a gala or movie premiere. But no superstar could compare to the beauty Lady Dungeon radiated.

With measured elegant steps, she walked over to Berlyn. Never before had the two met. So far, Lady Dungeon had only appeared when her guards had been defeated. This was unusual and the surprises kept coming for Berlyn.

Lady Dungeon bestowed upon her a smile that made Berlyn's legs grow weak and drowned her in brilliance. Berlyn's eyes grew wide as Lady Dungeon lifted her arm and let her hand rest on Berlyn's head.

“How cute.” Lady Dungeon's voice was even more angelic and melodic than Berlyn had ever dreamed of. Her next words she nearly missed as Lady Dungeon started to pet her. Giving scritches behind her ears. “I am very proud of you. Well done.”

It was heaven. Lasting only seconds that felt like an eternity, yet ended too soon. As Lady Dungeon stepped away, Berlyn was dazed with happiness. Still, she managed a curtsy. Then she fought down her jealousy as Lady Dungeon walked to Remee and Momo in turn. Both got a one-arm hug. Even Loum earned a pat against the romp.

Stepping away, Lady Dungeon turned to regard her victorious group of champions. Another brilliant smile. Then she addressed Berlyn one last time. “So cute!” And in a display of sparkling light, she vanished.

With a fast-beating heart and wide eyes, Berlyn turned around. “Guys, Lady Dungeon noticed me.”

Berlyn's grin was mirrored by Remee and Momo. As they reached up to pat Berlyn's head, for once, she didn't protest. This was perfect. The highlight of her life. It made every boring moment of waiting for adventurers and every death worth it. A culmination of the past five centuries. And Berlyn couldn't be happier.

---

Epilog

---

Kizari Silverneedle slowly circled her latest creation. It wasn’t done. There was still something missing that would tie it all together. Not more studs. There were already plenty. Maybe-

The door to Kizari’s shop slammed open. Adventurers? Kizari hadn’t expected any. Usually, she got a minute or two of preparation as a warning message would be sent to her smartphone. But it was no group of adventurers looming in the doorway to her shop. Instead, a pink-haired cat-girl entered.
“Oh, my. Berlyn-chan? Is that you? I heard of your recent change.” Kizari knew now was her time to strike. “Have you come to take me up on my offer? I can make you look badass. Fierce and deadly. Granted, your new look might make it a little harder, but nothing I can’t account for.”

Slowly, the cat-girl walked closer. Slightly trembling. In anger? Kizari couldn’t quite read the emotion. Not until Berlyn reached her. Suddenly bawling, Berlyn-chan reached for her while collapsing on the floor. “Lady Dungeon. She noticed me. I am cute, she says. But I need more. Kizari! I need to be cuter. Cosplay? Have you heard of cosplay? I need to be Kawaii!”

Bemused, Kizari sank to her knees. Looking down on the dungeon boss that was technically her superior. “Of course. I’ll make you so cute, that no one will be able to resist you.”

“Really?” Berlyn-chan looked up with big and hopeful eyes.

“Of course,” Kizari assured her but wished she was as confident as she had said it. For the catgirl before her was already so cute. And Kizari? Her designs were badass. Punk and metal. Could she do cute? Yes. Kizari didn’t know how, but she was a legendary tailor after all. “I will make sure Lady Dungeon will notice you even more.”

---

Outro

---

Once, the town of Fossom Fields had been known far and wide. For it was close to a popular dungeon. But then mankind moved on. Technologies were invented and the need for goods looted from dungeons dimmed. The popularity of Fossom Fields waned and hardly anyone ever visited its dungeon anymore. Until no adventurer even remembered it.

Until a century later a chance encounter changed everything. Not adventurers, but schoolgirls on a dare braved the depths of the forgotten dungeon. And with it came change. Growths. Now plenty of people a flocking to Fossom Fields. Instead of adventurers, it is teens and young adults. Vying not for old loot, but swag. As the dungeon had changed.

Gone were labyrinthian tunnels and dark and gloomy encounters. Instead, one might mistake it for a shopping mall. Boasting with exotic goods defended by excentric mini-bosses. If one could reach those, for a gang of young women defended their turf.

But the strangest occasion was when there was a pause in the mass of adventurous visitors. Deep in the dungeon - past a paintball arena with the most deadly encounter - was a single room that could have been at home in any fine art museum. Here, two heavily endowed beauties would recount the latest fierce battles they had fought. Their audience was a woman of such glamor and refinement, that most mortals would call her a goddess by those measures alone.

The lady of the dungeon would always sit on a marble bench, while her entertainers regalled her with fierce reenactment. But she was not alone. More often than not, the head of a pink-haired catgirl would rest on her lap. Gently purring as her head got petted. And got so many scritches, that she felt in heaven.

The end.

---

Author's Note

---

Dear Readers,

Thank you for making it through another of my stories. This one was so much fun to write. The very idea of envisioning a dungeon in modern times was so intriguing. I hope I did the concept justice and you had as much fun as I had.

I would also like to thank my readers and discord members who voted for this story idea. If you don’t know: members of my discord server can vote on which story I will write next. If you would like to have a say in it, you may join under the following link: Cassy's Library

Alas, this story is over. But who knows? Maybe the concept lives on. I could envision other dungeons and how they could be dragged to modern times. But that is for another day.

Or is it?

Thanks for reading.
Cassy Bee.

---

Bonus Scene!

---

In a dungeon a few cities away from Fossom Fields...

Count Rudeanu awoke to thirst. That wasn’t unusual. Rarely, if ever, his thirst was truly quelled. Only diminished by the blood of fresh and foolish adventurers. Have new ones arrived? Ages. It had been so long since the last had visited him and his dungeon. Time he had spent in a nearly death-like sleep.

But now he awoken and the thirst was back. Count Rudeanu swore he would make the adventurers pay for waking him up. And reward them, by giving them the sweat reward of sucking their blood to the last drop.

But just as Count Rudeanu was about to open his coffin, he noticed a few strange details. His body felt strange. Not unusual after decades - maybe even a century - of sleep. But the great weight on his chest felt different. And since when was his stone coffin lined with velvet?

With rising confusion channeled into anger, Count Rudeanu used his mind to push open the lid and raise himself from his coffin.

Only to nearly stumble.

What manner of shoes did he wear that he had raised heels? Wait, what was wrong with his body. Was he a woman? Such large breasts he hadn’t seen in centuries. Now on him? Her? Was that a dress she was wearing instead of stately garments as before?

“What is all this?” the reborn vampire count demanded to know.

Three mortals were quick to rush by. To fall on their knees in servitude. Rudeanu knew them. Sanda, Anica, and Camelia. Once his brides and vampires of their own. Now, they were mortals. Dressed in skimpy lace. Her maids?

“My Lady Rudeanu, the dungeon has changed,” Anica volunteered. Not daring to look up. Was it submission or the knowledge of how angered their master-turned-mistress was.

“I can see that!” Countess Rudeanu snapped. At least, she was still of nobility. That much her status screen revealed. But she had fallen far from grace. Level five instead of thirty. She really had slept a long time.

Just as much as she had changed, her boss room had changed with her. Gone was the crypt-like chamber that had witnessed so many deaths of foolish adventurers. This looked like the bedroom of a lady in any kind of highborn manor. Marble floors and wood-paneled walls. Dressers half open with all kinds of dresses and refined garments.

And then, Lady Rudeanu saw it.

A mirror. Reaching from floor to ceiling. Not unusual, she reasoned, for such a surrounding. What it showed was what struck her as wrong. Not only could she see her maids, but herself. Impossible. She was a vampire! A quick look at her stat screen assured her of it. Yes, she still was a creature of the night. And as everyone knew, vampires couldn’t be seen in a mirror.

But there she was. Entranced, Lady Dudeanu stepped closer. “Oh Lord Dungeon, what have you done to me?” she whispered in shock, but also awe. With her feet in highly heeled sandals, she towered nearly four meters tall. She wasn’t one of those dainty women of court. No, she had curves. A bit of substance. Most of all, for her bosom. All accentuated by her elegant cream-colored dress. Why she was wearing a matching wide-brimmed hat, she couldn’t tell.

And then, a new revelation hit her. Once so bizarre, she hardly could form it into words. Until it burst out of her: “WHY THE HELL AM I SPARKLING?!”