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

---

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

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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.

---

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

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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?!”

On the dot at twelve o’clock, Arnold entered the diner. Like every day, he walked over to his favorite booth and took a seat. It didn’t take long for Pauline to appear. A mug with Tea already in her hands.
“Hey Arnold, what can I get you today?”

“How about a burger? With mushrooms please,” Arnold replied.

“Are you sure? Maybe a salad would do you better. Just kidding. One burger with mushrooms coming right up.”

Arnold had to stifle a sigh. The ripping of the waitresses was definitely not the reason why he spends every workday lunch break here. Nor was it the food. The bell hanging over the door rang and he saw the real reason.

A gaggle of girls in office attire entered. Of them, one stood out like a flower surrounded by weed. Katherine. The one and the only reason why Arnold chose this dinner every day. From afar he studied her graceful beauty. He knew it was creepy to watch her like that every day. If he could only find the strength within himself to ask her out.

Instead, to be not as obvious, he took out his newspaper. As always the sports section was put aside. Quickly joined by the section aimed at warlocks and witches. He had no use for it as his magical potential was close to not existing. The few times he had tried to join a warlock coven counted as one of his most embarrassing times.

He skimmed over the newspaper and glanced now and then to Katherine. How poised she looked. She looked so elegant even with all the ruffles she liked to wear.

Pauline broke his line of sight when she carried his burger over. After she went away Arnold was surprised to see Katherine coming over. His heart leaped and started beating faster. Had he been caught staring?

“Mind if I borrow this?” Katherine asked in a sweet and melodic voice. Her hand pointed to the newspaper section he had put aside.

“G-go ahead,” he managed. His mind raced and urged him on. This was his opportunity. He could strike a conversation now. Maybe even ask her out.

The ringing of Katherine’s phone broke the moment and he knew he had hesitated too long.

“Excuse me,” she said in her sweet voice and then answered her call. Walking away and back to her co-workers. It didn’t take long before she excused herself from them too and left the diner. Must have been important Arnold reasoned.

With Katherine gone all that was left was to eat his burger and maybe read his newspaper for real. Soon the doorbell of the diner rang again as two new women entered. Or so had Arnold had thought. Both of them were males and could only pass as women if viewed from far away. Or in a very dark alley.

"If they dress up they could at least put some afford into it," he thought.

He got a good view of them as they sat down at the counter near him. That gave him a slight chill he couldn’t explain. With renewed afford, he attacked his lunch. Now and then he felt observed and if he looked up the two men dressed as women quickly looked away. To Arnold, it was very suspicious.

He called Pauline and got a doggy bag. After paying he hurried to leave the diner. A few paces away he dared to look over his shoulder. Both of the strange men had followed him out.

Arnold quickened his pace yet every time he looked back they were behind him. Even with high heels, they were just as fast as him. Thoroughly freaked out he took a turn and hurried around another corner. In his haste, he slammed into someone else and fell on his butt.

“I am sorry. I didn’t look and …”
Arnold's voice left him. Before him, there was a man that surely was taller than six feet. Decked out in a ball gown for women of the last century. It looked ridiculous.
“Oh don’t worry sweetie,” the guy replied in a deep voice. “I was looking for you anyway.”

Arnold first thought he had misheard. Was he looking for him? He scampered to his feet and ran away. Nearly running into the first two guys that had followed him.

With a sprint, he left them behind and then heard heated voices.
“He is ours.” “In your dreams you half portion of a sissy.” “I’ll show you a half portion…”

The sound of an explosion made Arnold twitch. Looking over his shoulder he saw the evidence left behind by a fireball. He knew now for sure those were lunatics. To use combat magic in the light of day. Sheer madness.

He didn’t stop running until he saw the entrance to his workplace. Finally, he might get to safety. Or not as he saw more men decked out in different dresses and female outfits. He channeled the last ounces of strength left and sprinted to the building's guard. Showing his ID he was let in. Not so the freaks behind him.

---

Arnold glanced at the clock. I was five. Time to go home. Yet for the first time ever he dreaded it. What if more of those crazy people were around? Just to be sure he exited the building through the underground garage.

It was only five blocks to his apartment and normally he didn’t mind walking. Today, however, was different. What would he give now for a car? Maybe he should have called a cab. Now it was too late.

“Mister, we would like a word,” a voice to his left said.
Stepping from a backstreet alley were three men that looked like rejects from a domina studio. All decked out in latex or leather. Each of them had wobbling breasts the size of balloons and Arnold guessed they were air-filled too.

He let out a way to unmanly shriek and was once again running.
He needed to find safety. Maybe call the cops? All this was freaking him out.

A few dozen feet further he crashed nearly in a trio of living Barbie dolls. The difference was that their legs had entirely too much wool on them and they had big full beards on their faces. A few emergency turns and he was sprinting past them.

“Trixie, do something!” one of them shouted. A moment later something slammed in Arnold's backside. Stumbling he caught himself and kept running. Something felt different though and he couldn’t tell what.

Looking behind him he saw no one of concern. He quickly ducked into a side alley and checked below his belt. “Son of a bitch …” Instead of the gray boxer shorts, he wore today as underwear, bright pink panties greeted him. The cut and silky material told him those were definitely for a woman.

“We can help you with the rest,” came a voice from the side alley’s entrance. It belonged to the pair of crazy stalkers from the diner. Both advanced towards him.

Arnold started for the other side only to see another troop of crazy cross-dressers about to cut him off. He was boxed in. No way out.

“I think some forgot whose territory this is.” The melodic voice cut through the tense atmosphere. Arnold couldn’t believe his eyes. Katherine? What was his secret crush doing here? “In the name of the East Ridgeside coven, I declare you not welcome!”

The duo from lunch quickly scrambled, but the group of six took threatening stances. By now Katherine had reached Arnold. Slowly she unbuttoned her jacket and held it towards him. “Be a dear and hold this, please.”

Arnold took the offered jacket and watched her with curiosity. Something under her blouse gave off a strong glow. As she pushed up her sleeves he saw tattoos of glowing light etched all around her arms. “Let me remind you. The East Ridgeside coven is one of a twenty-three chain,” she coldly told the other group.

Whatever this meant it caused a reaction. The group slowed down and, after a quick and hushed discussion, retreated.

“Are you okay?” Katherine asked him.

Baffled Arnold only managed a nod.

“We need to get you off the streets. Come. My apartment is around the corner.”

---

Arnold followed Katherine into something that resembled more a loft than an apartment.

“Please. Sit. You drink tea, right?” Katherine pointed to a stool at the kitchen counter and then rummaged through the kitchen cupboards.

“Ah, yes. Uhm. Do you know what is happening?”

Katherine gave a heavy sigh. “Sadly I do. I bet this must be confusing to you. I fear it is complicated. Do you know what Whissies are?”

Arnold shook his head. “No idea.”

“Okay. Let's start with the basics and go from there. You know witches are the most powerful at the witching hour, right? So from midnight to one o’clock in the morning. Warlocks are strongest from eleven o’clock in the evening to midnight. Can you follow me so far?”

“That is basic elementary grade knowledge. Warlocks say farewell to the day and witches greet the new one,” Arnold said a bit hurt. Really everyone knew that.

“Okay, but that leaves twenty-two hours. Who is strongest at that time?” Katherine challenged him.

“No one of course,” Arnold replied.

“And there, my dear, you are wrong. Almost anyone is,” she told him, before putting a steaming mug of tea before him. Sitting down she took her sweet time to continue. “The time between the witching hour and the warlockian hour belongs to those between genders.”

“But, that can’t be true. Those between genders lose their connection to the witch or warlock hour. They are bound to the lowest part of their magic.”

“That is true,” Katherine agreed. “But there is a way. A few decades back it was found out that if one has the anatomy of more than one gender you can connect to your personal hour in between. Those who managed it were nicknamed witching sissies. But over time it was shortened to Whissies. Those were the ones who accosted you.”

“But why? I didn’t do them any harm. Why are they after me?” Arnold wanted to know.

“Well, as I said it’s complicated. You see witches and warlocks are the strongest at their hour. If they perform magic it is a one-and-done deal performed by the whole group. Whissies instead have each a personal hour. More or less corresponding to our time measurement. If they want to cast grand magic spells they have to chain their hours together. One Whissy starts a spell and hands it over to a Whissy whose hour is tailing his or her own. With each Whissy in a chain, the spell grows stronger. The most powerful spells can only be cast if a coven manages to chain twenty-four Whissies together. Because then the first can take over from the last. In theory, a spell could be strengthened then forever.”

Katherine took a moment to sip her tea and gave Arnold time to stomach all this. Finally, she continued.
“Every Whissie coven tries to build a twenty-four chain. The problem is most Whissies have a personal hour situated close to the night. The further in at the day the rarer a Whissy that has a personal hour there. With the rarest of them all those that are bound from noon to one o’clock in the afternoon.”

“Very .. interesting. But I still don’t see the connection to me,” Arnold threw in.

“Yes. Well. Do you remember earlier today at the diner? The phone call I got? This was a coven member of mine informing me of the intrusion of many Whissies into our territory. The reason for it is a coven one state over. They cast a grand spell if you want to call it that. That spell was aimed to find a person that, once made a Whissy, would be bound to the rarest personal hour. It put a magical marker on the person. Namely you.”

“Me? But I am not what you call a Whissy,” Arnold protested.

“I know that. They know that. The problem is that they don’t care. They would try to seduce you into being one. However, things had gotten out of hand. The magic signature you now emit was leaked from within the ranks of the coven that cast the spell. Every power-hungry Whissie coven in hundreds of miles around us is now after you. If I had known at the time that it was you I wouldn’t have left you alone.”

Arnold stood up and paced the room. This was all too much.
“There’s got to be a way out. Maybe if I call the police…”

“I don’t think they can help,” Katherine calmly told him. “The knowledge of Whissie covens is held more or less secret. They might not even believe you at all. Sit down and we will find out if my coven can help.”

She pointed at a comfortable-looking armchair. Arnold complied after a moment. What else was he supposed to do? Once seated Katherine came over and grabbed for his belt.

“W-what are you doing?” he protested and swatted her hand away.

“I need to get to the enchantment. If placed on a male it usually is located .. well. In the balls. Now let me do my work.”

Arnold frowned but moved his hands away. She quickly opened the belt and then his pants. Only to reveal …

“Those aren’t mine,” Arnold quickly said. “I mean. They were boxer shorts when I left the house. One of those crazy people flung a spell at me and …”

“... now you wear pink panties,” Katherine completed his sentence. “I wish I could say it is the first time hearing that, but sadly those underhand tactics are common among the power-hungry Whissie covens. Now lean back and don’t move.”

He did as told, but jumped as she grabbed his dick. Before he could react he felt her warm mouth envelope his member. In seconds she had him hard. Not long after he exploded in an orgasm.

Coming down he wondered what a strange day this was. First the chases. Then the rescue by his secret crush. And now she had given him a surprise blowjob. Looking down he saw her swishing around his cum in her mouth like a wine connoisseur testing a new vintage.

After a minute she swallowed it. “Hmm not bad. Still, I think it’s worse than I had thought.”

It took Arnold a few moments to gather himself and ask the obvious question. “What do you mean?”

“Well, there is the tracking spell. But there is more. A part of the spell targets your mind. Gradually changing you to act and dress feminine. That is probably their intended tactic. Wait a month and you would be thoroughly on the sissy side and ready to be recruited. As strange as it sounds that your information has leaked might be a blessing in disguise.”

“Because I know now about the spell,” Arnold concluded. “I can pay now someone to have it removed before it completely rewrites my mind. Just need to find a witch or warlock coven…”

“That won’t be fast enough,” Katherine interjected. “It’s Whissie magic. A witch or warlock coven might take weeks to find the right counterspell. Not many people know about Whissies and even less had the guts to study it to create spells to counter it. You need a Whissie coven that you can trust.”

“That I can trust? Every one of them I meet so far was crazy!” Arnold exclaimed.

“Not everyone. I am different. And my coven too,” Katherine quickly interjected.

“T-that can’t be. You don’t look like …”

“... those crazy people? Thanks for that I guess.” She sighed heavily and then looked him into the eyes. “Look. Normally I don’t tell anyone unless I know them really well. Like at least seven dates in. Then again I gave you a blowjob so that is that. Okay. Listen. I was born a man. One hundred percent male, but early into my puberty, I realized it was wrong. I meant to be a woman.”

Now she stood up and started to pace the room. “You see I learned about Whissies in my quest to become a woman. I mean they were named after Sissies, but it is magic open to all between genders. They have the magic to transform one from man to woman or vice versa. It took me years to find a coven I could trust. Most are made up of men or women who are too weak to be warlocks or witches. Those are the power-hungry. But after years I found the coven that is here. In East Ridgeside. They help people like me.”

She took a deep breath to calm herself before continuing. “Back then the coven hadn’t been that big. Still, they tried their best and after a few weeks, I was one hundred percent female … with the added appendage of my penis. Back then I could have gone rid of that too, but in the end, I decided against it. For now at least. I chose to become a Whissy to help others like me. And that is what my coven does. We helped hundreds of people to get their desired gender.”

As silence settled over the room Arnold took the opportunity to sit beside her and take her hands. “Okay. I trust you and because I trust you I will extend this trust to them.”

“Thank you for your understanding,” she told him with a relieved sigh at the end.

“So. Your coven. How can they help?” Arnold wanted to know.

“Well, this is awkward. You see Whissies hand over spells by passing body fluids,” Katherine explained while blushing.

“Like spit?” Arnold asked.

“No. To weak. There are only two fluids that are good conductors and storage mediums. One is breast milk, but since not everyone in my coven has breasts we did go with number two.” There was a heavy pause till she continued. “Sperm. We chain our spells via sperm.”

“Sperm?” Arnold repeated flabbergasted. “Does that mean I have to …”

“For the best results, yes. And we need those. The coven that bewitched you is powerful. They have not only one chain complete, but two. With you they would have three,” Katherine stated.

“A complete chain being twenty-two Whissies?”, Arnold inquired.

“No, twenty-four. It isn’t uncommon that Whissies have their personal hour at the warlockian hour or witching hour. The important part is that they can span the entire day.”

“How big was yours again? Coven’s chain I mean,” Arnold asked.

“Twenty-three. Yes, the last one to complete our chain would be one of your personal time. I promise you we won’t try to recruit you. My coven isn’t like that.”

For what it was worth Arnold trusted her. While others had hunted him she had rescued him and took the time to explain everything. That she was so open and upfront endeared her to him. It was the situation that he didn’t like.

“So to summarize,” he started. “My options are the following. Either I contact a witch or warlock coven and hope that they find a counterspell in time. Which is unlikely. Or I can drink one-time sperm from one of your coven members?”

“Well, yes. Of course, you could wait two weeks. By then you would crave sperm,” Katherine joked. His deadpan face told her that the joke fell flat.

“I don’t know if it helps you or not,” she quickly continued. “But the end of my coven's chain would be me. That means at least you know the person that … donates … the sperm.”

That got a weak laugh out of him. “To be honest I wanted to get to know you better. Would have never dreamed it would be under these circumstances.”

“You did? I mean I often saw you glance over. I always wondered why you didn’t try to ask me out,” Katherine admitted.

“Are you kidding me? I would have, but … I mean look at us. You are gorgeous and I am …”

“Cute?” Katherine offered.

“Pudgy I would have said. You .. you really think I am cute?” Arnold asked with a blush.

“Of course. That’s why I came over today. The magic section of the newspaper isn’t written for Whissies anyways. If it wouldn’t have been for the call…”

“... and the whole chase thing,” Arnold added.

“Yeah. Well, I would suggest we get to know each other better. You might as well stay here for a day or two. I have warded my apartment so you should be safe here till we get rid of the enchantment. So plenty of time.”

Arnold nodded. While he didn’t mind spending more time with Katherine he wanted this ordeal to be over with.

---

Arnold paced the room. Eager for Katherine to return. It had been two days since he had been bewitched. Or cursed as Arnold came to think of it. This morning he had spent an hour before the mirror. Fussing with his hair and other things. By the time Katherine had knocked he had been sure that it was a good idea to let his hair grow long. Only then Arnold's trance was broken. The spell was real. No doubt about it. He was eager to get it over with. Before other changes happened.

Finally, he heard keys turn in the front door lock and he quickly walked over to greet Katherine. “Did it work? Do you have the spell?” he urged her.

“Yes. Calm down. I have the spell, but I need to add my part. So hush. I need a moment,” she chided him.

She took to the couch and sat down there in a lotus position. Silence settled over the room as she concentrated. Arnold took the time to study her. She really was amazing and he was glad to know her. She even appeared to be open to a relationship with him. But things have changed. How much he couldn’t tell. He was sure she was a woman through and through. But that little extra. He wasn’t sure if he could find peace with that.

“I am done,” she finally said. She stood up and stretched her legs.

Arnold swallowed hard. He knew what had to come now. Silently he sank on his knees before her. He thought he saw a moment of surprise on her face, but it passed quickly.

Katherine lowered her skirt and then her panties. True enough there it was. A dick. If one could call it even that. The term micro-penis came to Arnold's mind.

Blushing Katherine lifted her penis and grape-sized balls. Below it Arnold saw the familiar sight of a vagina.
“See?” she asked. “One hundred percent female. Just a little…”

“Extra,” Arnold added. A little hesitant he reached for her dick. It was the first time that he touched one besides his own. Then again it wasn’t as bad as he feared. Especially if he looked up at Katherine’s face.

He swallowed heavily and started his work. Slowly he started to stroke her dick. It didn’t take long till it started to swell in his hand. Three inches. Then four. And it kept increasing.

“A little Whissie trick,” Katherine commented from above.

He wouldn’t call it little. By the end, it had the size fit for a pornstar. Maybe nine inches total and the circumference and balls to go with it.

“Remember to not waste anything."
Her comment reminded him of what was needed now. Dawdling he took the tip into his mouth and slowly closed his lips. He couldn’t help but taste and smell her pecker. It wasn’t as bad as he had feared. With the first step taken his hesitation was broken. He started to suck and slide it in and out of his mouth. Not eagerly, but well aware that it would be over sooner if he put some afford in.

Cute moans above him told of his success and soon Katherine grabbed his head to guide him to an even faster pace.
Suddenly she held him in place and her dick twitched in his mouth. Something salty hit his throat and he swallowed it by instinct. There was a lot and soon his eyes started to tears as he needed to breathe.

Then it hit him. A warmth spread through his belly and like a wave of pleasure spread through him. He was riding on a wave of euphoria that circled through his veins. It wasn’t an erotic feeling, but more along the lines of when he jogged for a while and got runners high or the high after a thrilling ride on a rollercoaster. Just like that, but better.

When the feeling finally ebbed away he found himself instinctively licking Katherine’s dick clean to prolong this amazing feeling.
“That felt … really great,” he admitted with a goofy grin. Then he blushed after noticing that he admitted to like sucking her dick.

“Don’t worry,” Katherine comforted him. “That was just the spell spreading through your body.”

She helped him up only to push him onto the couch. “My turn. Got to make sure that my counter-spell dispelled everything.”

Once again she fiddled with his pants and fished an already hard dick out. Her red lips closed around his cock and he couldn’t help but moan. She was so much better at blowjobs than he was. No wonder he came very soon.

Like before she swished his jizz around in her mouth and soon gave him a bright smile.

“All done. You are a free man again. The tracking spell is off and the covens that know about you, we told off. You are under the protection of the East Ridgeside coven now so don’t worry.”

“That is good to hear,” he admitted.

All that was left to do was gather his stuff and get on with his life. Just when he was about to leave he turned around again. “You said you normally don’t tell your little secret till the seventh or so date, right?”

Katherine gained a cute blush. “Yeah, something around that.” She sighed. “Usually it is the end of the relationship too.”

“Well…” Awkwardly he scratched his head. This was still harder than he had thought. “Because I know that means I owe you at least one date, right?”

“Only if you want,” she shyly replied.

“It would be my pleasure,” he admitted.

When he finally left it was with her phone number and a date for the next Saturday. He looked forward to it. Maybe with a little hesitation, but also with excitement.

---

Her arm gently shifted on his belly and he looked over to admire her lithe body. She was sleeping soundly and she had more than earned it. Not so Arnold as the adrenaline still chased through his veins.

Gently he leaned over to kiss her head. Has it already been a year since their first date? One that soon became many. And now he had moved in with this wonderful woman. That was what she was to him. One hundred percent woman. Just with a little percent male on top.

He didn’t even mind those few percent resting on his own tights and besides his own dick. By now he had gotten used to it. More than that. He even had gotten used to giving her now and then a blow-job. Couldn’t be helped. That pesky coven over in the next city tried every few months their location spell. As the nearest candidate, it always hit Arnold. Sort of like a lightning rod.

Besides, there were other advantages to dating a Whissie. His hand move downward and felt his hard muscles under his skin. His body was in peak physical condition thanks to Katherine. He didn’t even need to work out. If he had to give a blow-job once a month for it then so be it. It was a small price to pay.

Her hand joined his and looking up he saw her awake.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked him.

It was amazing how good she knew him by now. Indeed recently something had been on his mind. He gently grabbed her hand with his and their fingers intertwined. “I’ve been meaning to ask. That last time slot in your coven. It is still free, right?”

“Has one of them tried to recruit you? Who was it? I will wash his, hers or theirs head,” she fiercely proclaimed.

Arnold chuckled. By now he had met every one of Katherine’s coven and then he finally understood the difference. Those covens founded by power-hungry people were a travesty. They didn’t care for the lifestyle. They only fulfilled the bare minimum needed to become a Whissy. Usually, that meant wearing clothes or growing a sex organ of the other gender. Most often those were breasts.

However, Katherine’s coven cared. They were in it first and foremost for the lifestyle. Men into women's clothes shaved and tried their best to look the best. There were androgynous members that were so good at blending genders that you would be hard-pressed to tell if they had been male or female, to begin with. Their drag queens and kings amidst them were professionals and often found on stage. It was a difference between night and day.

“No. None did. But listen. I love you, Katherine. Not just your personality, but also what you do together with your coven. You help people and I want to support you. Hey. What’s wrong? Why are you pouting?”

“Well,” she hesitated. “Call me selfish, but I like you like this. My big strong man. I don’t want to see you wearing women's clothing all day or grow breasts.”

Arnold broke out in laughter and only stopped when Katherine was playfully boxing him. “Neither do I,” he admitted. “But there is another way. Last time I saw your coven member and friend Seamus he told me his little secret. I could go his way.”

He saw her eyes sparkle for a moment and she playfully bit her lips. A sure tell that he had won her over on the idea.

“So,” she purred. “I get all this to play with. One hundred percent male.” She let his hand go and slid it down his belly to his junk. Then she reached behind his balls and caressed the skin there. “And down here you get a naughty little pussy for us to play with?”

“That’s the plan. Are you game?”

“Oh, I am in. And once you get the dirty little secret down there I imagine I am literally in it too.” Then she suddenly looked conflicted.

“What?” Arnold softly asked.

“Well, if you go through with it and become a Whissy then there is something I have to confess.”

“Something bad?” Arnold wanted to know.

“Depends ...” Katherine admitted. “You remember the first time when I dispelled something from you?”

“You mean the first time I gave you a blowjob? How could I not.”

“Well, technically all you had to do was swallow my sperm. I didn’t say you had to … milk it personally from me.”

Arnold looked at her shocked.“You mean all those blowjobs … Hadn't they been necessary? Why didn’t you correct me?”

“Uhm yeah about that. I mean I kind of thought that time was a one-and-done deal. So I thought I might take this gift offered, you know? And once we were in a relationship. Well, you should know how good blowjobs feel.”

Arnold nodded. “Well yeah. But still. You will pay for that. One to one.”

“But I already give you plenty of blowjobs,” Katherine protested.

“True, but I am talking about my other part. The one I do not yet have.”

“Oh! I guess that sounds fair,” she admitted. “Though I never thought I would munch carpets one day.”

Arnold laughed and then grabbed her close. Planting a kiss on her lips. Which soon lead to more.

Later Arnold wondered how he had gotten this lucky. She was a wonderful person and they had a lot in common. Soon they would share even more.

The end.

Mad Murdock eyes darted between the revealed cards on the table and his own in his hand. Four Aces. What luck that boy had. Or not. On Mad Murdock's hand was a fifth ace.

"You filthy little cheater. Thought you were all smart and shit, didn't ya?"

Slowly he put his own ace down. However the fear, he hoped that would appear on the boy's face, never showed. Instead, the boy grinned. One of those handsome smiles that could get a girl's knee weak. Mad Murdock hated that smile. Hated boys like him.

"Why does it make me a cheat? I say it's you who's a sore loser."

Rage welled within Mad Murdock. It unloaded itself in an overthrown table and a drawn pistol.

"Woah there. You don't wanna shot me here, right? The sheriff might not like it. It's close to high noon anyways. Let's make it a duel, shall we?"

That damn smile. It was nearly enough for Mad Murdock to twitch his finger and end this worm before him. The veins of his pulsed as rage flowed through them. Yet he hesitated. The boy was right. If he shot him here and now Mad Murdock's face would be banned from another town. Slowly he slid his colt back into its holster.

"You got your duel boy. See you outside."

Now it was Mad Murdocks turn to smile. Not the boyish kind. A nasty one that had made many men before crapping their pants.

With measured steps, he walked outside. He looked at the clock tower. Not much time until high noon. He had to hurry. He concentrated on creating his shield. A hard task as rage still made his blood boil. It took time, but he got there.

Next, he took out his lead slinger. The colt was a familiar weight in his hand. He popped open the cylinder and took out the six bullets of mage-lead. Nasty stuff indeed. It didn't hurt a body. It just passed through it. No. The real harm came from the enchantment they carried and these won't do. Transformed into a pig wasn't good enough for a cheater like that boy. He and his damned smile. Murdock fished for another pouch and slowly opened it. The lead there had the slight carving of earthworms on their casing. Nothing but a worm. How fitting. And who knows. Maybe someone will step on him. Again the nasty smile showed on Mad Murdock's face.

The only drawback was that the further away the cursed form was from the original, the shorter the lasting duration was. The boy might have spent days trapped as a pig. As a lowly worm, he might be back to normal by nightfall. If he survives till then.

On time the boy walked out of the saloon. Mad Murdock's smile grew. That fool didn't even have a shield ready. What a rookie mistake.

Both took their places on the main road. Between them up in the sky was the burning sun. Below it the clocktower counted faithful and steady the seconds towards high noon.

A sudden deep gong broke the silence. The town bell made itself know. Mad Murdock's hand caught the grip of his trusted colt. Heaved it up and about. Halfway towards being level something slammed into his shield. Then his colt was up. His finger was about to curl around the trigger when the next projectile slammed into his shield. It screwed his aim. Only slightly. Just enough to miss the boy's head. His other hand shot up to span the hammer again. He was fast. Fluid. Efficient. All thanks to years of training. Still another shell hit his shield before he was ready. His second shot went even more off target. Suddenly his shield broke. Made him stagger as the magical backlash disorientated him. He heard another bang. Something cold pierced his heart. His pupils dilated in shock. He had been hit. First time in two decades. Suddenly he saw black.

* * * * * * * * * *

The first thing in his view was sand when he came to himself. It was close. Right in front of his eyes. He felt it too. On his face and hands. A raging headache clued him in. Headshot. Right through him with a mage bullet. He knew he might have only seconds before his transformation would start. Frantically he searched for his colt. Then he saw him. That stupid boy and his mischievous grin. Crouching close to him. In his hand Murdock's pistol.

"Mad Murdock. Looks like your famous temper worked against you this time."

"I will get you. Hide wherever you want. I will hunt you down. You will-"

"Why would I hide? I don't fear you. Especially now that the transformation starts."

Murdock could feel it. Slowly he lost height. His arms slimmed down as did his legs. Whatever animal the boy has chosen for him. He soon would find out.

Suddenly his shrinking stopped. Murdock guessed at five foot and a few inches.

"You may be fast, but your enchanting sucks. Looks like your curse failed- Oh no."

He clasps his mouth in shock. Slowly his voice had changed from his deep manly rumble to a sultry alto.

"You didn't!"

"Of course I did. Come on. Strip. The crowd wants to see how you will sprout tits."

He crossed his arms in a defiant gesture, but it didn't help. He could feel his chest swell and two giant mounds of flesh pushed his arms away. Of course, it wasn't the only place his body was swelling. His pants burst as his ass grew outward. Followed by massive tights. He blushed deep red in embarrassment. Thankfully it was hidden behind his new grown mane of long curly black hair.

"Don't worry Murdock. You won't feel this embarrassed for long."

He didn't trust his voice anymore. Yet he had to find out.

"How long will it last you son of a-"

"Four months."

He stopped mid-sentence. Four months? He looked down at his tattered clothes that barely hid his now exaggerated womanly body.

"That's right. Four months. Two bullets hit you. You see I am not just quick. I am talented in the magic arts too. The first bullet contains the transformation and gives it a one-month duration. The second one was one just to extend it by three months. You were fucked the moment you accepted my duel. Guess what. I was hired to take you out and I had all the time I needed to learn your habits. I knew how many your shield can take. I knew I could get you. But that is not what I mean by 'not long'. You see, with the physical transformation done-"

"My mind!"

"Yes, Maddy. Your mind."

"My name is not Maddy it's-"

"Oh Maddy, but it is. Madeleine 'Maddy' Morecock. Most famous whore in the wild west."

Maddy wanted to shout again, but she wasn't sure why. It was her name, but something wasn't right.

"I am not a-"

"A whore? How else did you earn your stage name? Morecock, because you always crave more cock. Just admit it. Even now you can only think of the one in my trousers."

Maddy swallowed. Her eyes had riveted to the crotch of the handsome boy. How big was it? What will it texture be on her tongue? How long could this handsome young man ride her hard?

"Come on. Up with you."

Maddy was glad to accept the man's help.

"Thank you. How can I repay you ... mister?"

"Billy. Billy the Kid. And I just know the thing-"

* * * * * * * * * *

Thirteen months later Mad Murdock kicked open the swing doors of another saloon in another town. Fearful faces greeted him who quickly made themselves scarce. All but one. A young man with boyish looks leaned on a chair and gave him a cheery smile.

"Mad Murdock. What brings you to town? Oh, wait. I know. Is it revenge? Honestly, I had expected you months ago."

Mad Murdock didn't let himself be bait. Fury and rage could all be seen on his face, but he managed to reply in a cold hard voice.

"High noon. Be there or I'll hunt you down."

Without another word, he turned around and stepped out into the blazing sun. He didn't have to wait long as Billy the Kid came out not a minute later. Mad Murdock glanced at the local town clock. Four minutes to noon. Soon it would be over. He was sure of it.

"Wasn't the first time enough?" Billy taunted him. "Want to ride more cocks, Maddy?"

Mad Murdock remained quiet. His usual rage and fury held back with the sheer amount of will.In the silence that followed both waited for the clock to strike high noon. Poised to draw their pistols in a blink of an eye.

The heavy sound of the first strike of the bell vibrated through the street and Mad Murdock closed his eyes. His hand never grabbing his colt. One beat of his heart passed and then another. Still, no gunshot broke the silence. Only the bell telling the time.

"I'll be damned. I fucking knew it!"

Mad Murdock opened his eyes and saw Billy casually strolling towards him.

"You want to be Maddy again. Missing dicks in your pussy so much?" Billy taunted.

"That's not it."

"Sure is. Bet your pea shooter is empty too."

Mad Murdock gave him a glare. "I sold them. Had no choice. Needed to pay for a wet nurse."

"Wet nurse?" Billy asked confused.

"Ain't no turning back to being a man when you have a child in the womb you asshole. No money in it for a pregnant whore," Mad Murdock spat out.

"Well, I guess if you are so begging for it ..." Casually Billy drew his pistol. "Do you remember? First bullet a month. All the others extend by three. How many you want?"

Mad Murdock had to hold back to not wipe that smug grin off the boys face. "All of them," he said instead with a hoarse voice.

Grinning Billy the Kid leveled his gun. Then six shots broke the silence. Mad Murdock could feel himself changing a moment later. His grizzled old body giving way to the voluptuous curves of Maddy.

"Maybe come by the saloon later. Say your proper thanks," Billy said before walking away.

Maddy barely heard him. Too much occupied with her change. Once done and she found the strength to stand up, she hurried to behind a nearby general goods store. There she found a small cart and a woman holding a baby.

"Maddy! Good to have you back," the woman exclaimed.

Maddy hurried close and gently took the infant to her. "Thank you, Daisy, for keeping an eye on her."

Forgoing all modesty she pulled up her shirt and let her daughter's mouth find a nipple on her huge bosom. For a moment fear shot through her. What if she still couldn't feed her? Then, she felt the milk starting to flow. "This- This makes it all worth it," she said with a sigh.

She felt grateful. Maybe even grateful enough to really go over to the saloon later and say proper thanks.

* * * * * * * * * *

Billy sighed. The worst about prisons was how boring they are. All he could do was stare at his cell. The same one he occupied for the better part of a century. Not even reliving the memories of his time with his band of bandits helped much.

The crack of a gunshot made him jerk up. Had that one been real or part of his fleeting memory? Then a second shot did go off. Followed by a third, fourth and more. Steadily they came closer.

Was this a prison break? Were they here for him? It confused Billy as his whole gang was behind bars or below ground.

A lone warden stumbled backward with gun drawn into the view of Billy. Another shot and the man collapsed. A young woman stepped over him. Two pistols were drawn and looked for more trouble.

"You Billy the Kid?" she asked after making sure they were alone.

"I am Billy alright. Ain't no kid no more," he said with giving a toothy grin.

"Great," the girl said without much conviction. "I am your way out. Name's Cassidy" She fished for keys on the warden and a moment later the cell opened.

Following the girl, Billy had to whistle in appreciation. The girl alone had gunned down nearly a dozen guards.

"Don't dawdle," the Cassidy hissed at him. "They are only stunned and lost their last hour of memory. Won't be worth much if we are around when they wake up."

"Aye lass. Say. What's innit for ya?" Billy asked as they exited the small prison. The girl was ahead and marched straight to a pair of horses nearby.

"I need you to teach me," she replied curtly while swinging herself onto one of the horses.

"Girl. You shoot, bewitch and ride. What else is there to teach?" Billy asked while mounting his own ride.

"I heard stories of a certain spell. One you used on the guy they call Mad Murdock."

Billy nodded and gave a toothy grin. "Aye. A nice one. Used it a bunch of times, but nobody got it like old Murdock. The fool came begging for it every odd year. Wonder what he did without me."

"Will you teach me?" Cassidy curtly asked. Not at least entertained by his ramblings.

"Aye lass. I teach ya. Owe you one I guess."

* * * * * * * * * *

The old man stumbled as the bullet pierced through his heart. No blood spread, but two big mounds of flesh sprout on his chest. It wasn't the only change that happened to his body. A few heartbeats later an old matron stood there leaning on a fence.

"Hey, handsome. I'll show you a good time if you can afford it."

Billy laughed and ignored the newly made prostitute. "Well done lass," he told the girl while riding on at a slow pace. "To think you only needed a month to learn it. Nothing more to teach ya. Might be even better than ol' me. Guess we are even now."

"Not quite," he heard from behind. Bullets pierced his back and he landed in a heap beside his horse. The girl meanwhile emptied both her pistols. "Now we are. Mother says hi by the way. Goodbye Billie the whore."

Laughing Cassidy rode off while Billy collected himself. Then he noticed his body shifting. "Oh, fuck me," he cursed as he noticed the changes. He repeated it several times and each time his voice got a little higher and it sounded less like a curse.

Finally, the changes ended. "Oh someone please fuck me," Billie the whore pleaded in a breathy voice, but no one was around anymore.

* * * * * * * * * *

A few days later the young woman arrived at a small run-down ranch. She didn't have to ride far in to see an old grizzled man sitting in a rocking chair. The once bright, but now faded, red of his dress stood out against the worn down wood.

"Cassidy! Sweetie! You are back. My darlin' daughter has come back," the old man exclaimed in a voice that clashed with his old appearance. "Did you get it?" he eagerly urged her.

"Found Billy. Not a kid anymore. He would be here, but I think spreading her legs is now more important to her." The girl drew her pistol and leveled it at her father. "Welcome back Mom," she cheerfully said before pulling the trigger.

* * * * * * * * * *

Billie was refreshing her make-up after her last client left. Distracted, she nearly missed her boobs getting smaller. "Oh no!" she exclaimed in dismay. "Is already another month gone by?"

Oh so slowly her aged, but still beautiful face lost its allure. It was replaced by an old yet familiar face. Billy was back. He knew he should get up and change into male clothes. Instead, his eyes darted to the small wooden plank in the floorboards. Beneath it was his hidden colt.

"Don't do it, Billy," he said to himself. "You promised yourself the last bullet would be the last time too."

Still, it nagged at him. He couldn't help himself. Part of him wanted it. "That bitch. Over three years I had been a whore because of her! I need to hunt her down. Kill her! I can't keep doing this ..."

He stood up and the dress and corset strained under his more heavyset body. A few steps and he stood beside the board. With jittery fingers, he pulled out the colt. Last month he had shot the last bullet. He promised himself he wouldn't do it anymore. Yet just last week he bought another pack of ammo. The gun was loaded. Bewitched. Ready for him. Beckoned him to use it.

"One more month. Then I hunt her down. This time for sure."

Tears streamed down Billy's face as the muzzle kissed his temple. There was a small hesitation. Maybe he could stop himself. Break his addiction.

The deafening boom of his colt was the last thing he heard before he fainted.

"Madame! Madame?"

Billie stirred. Opening her eyes she saw one of the other girls working in the brothel.

"Is everything alright? We heard a gunshot."

Billie gave her a reassuring smile.

"It is alright my dear. Everything is fine."

Deep inside Billie knew she was right. At least for another month, she was fine.

* * * * * * * * * *

Eliza Lay was bored. She and her two companions were in the middle of nowhere. She might have fallen asleep if it hadn't been for the swaying of the stagecoach. She noticed immediately when that stopped.

"Everyone out!" the old woman driving the coach shouted.

Eliza was confused but listened nonetheless. Together with her friends Benita Kilpatrick and Willamette Carver, she stepped outside. She could see the old woman and her daughter not far away. They had their pistols drawn, which wasn't a good sign.

"Are there robbers close by?" Eliza wanted to know with fright in her voice.

"Closer than you think," the younger woman replied with a nasty grin. "You see this is not Bettina Ellington. This is my mother Maddy Morecock and I am Cassidy. We are robbers by trade."

"Oh no," came the shocked reply of Benita and Eliza silently agreed.

"Actually we are whores by trade, but that isn't very profitable lately," the older woman corrected.

"Speaking of that..." Cassidy gave them another nasty smile.

In a blur of a motion Cassidy leveled her gun. Elize felt something pierce her stomach and only then processed that she was hearing gunshots.

"Why did you do that?" Maddy hissed at her daughter. "We only need their money and stuff."

Cassidy shrugged.

"I wanted to test out a new curse I've been working on."

A moment later Cassidy focused her attention on Eliza and her friends.

"Come on ladies. Stand up. Each of you only got two bullets. Shouldn't be too bad."

Eliza grimaced but complied. However, something was wrong as she stood up. She felt a strange pressure down below. Nervously she glanced down and saw a bump in her skirt.

"Now ladies. Let's have a look! Part or pull your skirts back and show me what you got there between your legs."

Eliza blushed. She was a respectable lady. She couldn't comply with such deviant demands.

"Do it," Cassidy urged them on. "Or I could fire a few more shots. Extend how long the curse lasts."

Eliza bit her lip contemplating what to do. Hesitantly she pulled back her skirts. Her belly full of dread what the fabric might reveal. Slowly the fabric revealed the tip of...

"Holy shit they have cocks!" Maddy exclaimed.

"Yes, Mom. I know. I know. You like them on men. Why don't you take care of the valuables and I check out how good my curses hold up."

More blood shot into Eliza's face. She wanted to do what with her? Unbidden her mind supplied the answer and to her embarrassment, her dick twitched in response. It got even harder than before.

"What did I teach you, girl? Never waste a perfectly hard dick," Maddie chided her daughter. Stepping closer to lead her Eliza's friends away. Strangely they didn't resist.

The younger bandit came slowly closer and Eliza's heart started to beat faster. Then her hand grabbed possessively Eliza's hard cock. That felt surprisingly good and right. By the time the deviant outlaw dropped her pants, Eliza was riled up enough to not care anymore about proper behavior. Greedily she pushed herself onto the bandit and pushed also deep inside her. Bliss filled her mind. Maybe this wasn't so bad. That hard obscene dick provided her with pleasure previously unknown. Right now being in a robbery was very very rewarding.

* * * * * * * * * *

Cassidy rolled on her back. Mentally patting herself on the back. She was a genius. The curse had worked as intended and way better than she had thought. The girl's stamina was amazing. Cassidy had milked her girl dry and it had taken hours to do so. A dozen feet away her mother was still busy with both of the other girls. How she was still going was beyond Cassidy.

"That was quite the show," a deep voice broke the silence. Followed by the sound of clapping.

Cassidy cursed herself. Her sex marathon had occupied her enough to distract her. Now she paid the price.

"Finally caught up with you bitch. Hunted you and your whore of a mother through the last two states." He saw her glance away for a moment. "What? You don't like being called a bitch?"

Cassidy gave him a toothy grin.

"I've been called bitch so many times it might as well be my first name."

Their banter was cut short. They were disturbed by the two other girls who had been still fooling around with Maddy.

"Something is wrong," one of the girls cried.

Fearing the worst Cassidy stepped over. Ignoring the stranger. The two girls were on each side of Maddie. Cassidy saw no breathing. Tears started to run down her cheeks. Still, she started to laugh in relief.

"What the hell?" the guy looked at her as if she had gone mad. "Your mother died and laugh? Shouldn't you pay her more respect?"

"Of course I laugh," Cassidy countered. "I am relieved. Mother was old and she was a whore. She didn't want to die silently in the night. No. This was perfect for her. Riding a cock till she couldn't anymore. That was the way she wanted to die." She looked at the girls who had literally fucked her mother to death. "Thank you. To both of you."

Both girls looked confused. As if they didn't know how to react. Flattered? Appalled by the morbidity of the situation? Relieved that the daughter didn't blame them?

"This is insane," the guy cut through the heavy moment. "Come on up, Cassidy. At least I will collect your bounty."

"No," Cassidy said with finality. "You speak to me about not paying respects? At least let me bury my mother."

"Fine."

Together, with the girls she meant to rob, Cassidy buried her mother. While lowering the body, Cassidy leaned over to Eliza to murmur in her ear. "If you bring me my colt without him noticing then you will have one more whore to fuck."

Eliza jerked back. Was that girl for real? As if she would help the bandit who would rob her. Besides. She could tame that beast between her legs. However, said beast stirred from its sleep woken by the mere thought of a new snatch to fuck. Blushing Eliza did her best to hide the growing hard-on between her legs.

"We done here?" the bounty hunter asked. "We could in the next town before high noon and the blazing midday sun if we hurry."

While Cassidy pouted the girls around her made themselves decent again. Never leaving Cassidy out of her sight the bounty hunter missed that Eliza picked up more than just her discarded clothes.

"Shouldn't we bind her?" Eliza asked. "I bet she has hidden tricks up her sleeve."

"Good idea."

"I know how to tie a knot," Eliza volunteered.

"Fine. Just hurry. The sun is setting soon."

Eliza grabbed some rope and spun Cassidy around so her backside was towards the bounty hunter. Then, instead of feeling coils of rope around her wrists, Cassidy felt the cold touch of her colt pressed into her palm.

"Good girl," Cassidy said in a hushed voice before suddenly wildly spinning around.

Caught off-guard the bounty hunter reacted way too late. He had his gun only half way up again when he felt Cassidy's bullet phase through his skin. The unloading enchantments made his legs buckle. Then he passed out.

* * * * * * * * * *

Harry groaned as he was woken up by the morning sun. For a moment he was confused why his body felt so strange. Then he remembered. That bitch Cassidy had shot him. Made him a girl. Whore even. He hadn't even blushed as the girls with cocks offered him sex. They kept him warm for most of the night.

"Hey girl, show me your tits!"

The shout came from his left and to his dismay, he reacted by instinct. Exposing his generous tits to the morning sun. As he did something warm and white landed on them. The whiff of a now familiar smell was caught by his nose. Fresh cum sprinkled his tits.

"Why did you do that?" Harry asked.

"You look better this way," the girl replied. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Harry," he answered. "Harry Alonzo Longabaugh."

"It's not," came a shout and both turned to see Cassidy walk closer. "That is not the proper name for a whore. I pumped you so full of lead that you will need a new name."

"Henriette?" the girl offered.

Cassy gave her a deadpan look that said: "Really?"

"Why do I need a whore name?" Harry asked as he looked up to both women. Still lying on the ground where he had woken up. "You don't have one."

"You gave me one yesterday, remember?" Cassidy reminded him. "Bitch Cassidy. At your service. And if you name me, it is only fair if name you."

Harry couldn't help it. He had to laugh. Then he stopped as he noticed the girl starting to jerk off again while aiming in his direction.

"Really?" Harry had thought it, but it had been Bitch Cassidy who had asked it out allowed.

"Just look my cum dancing on her tits when she laughs," the girl defended herself. "It's mesmerizing. I thought I give her a fresh coating so more of it can dance."

Bitch Cassidy laughed out loud. "There is your name, whore. Cumdance Tits."

Cumdance Tits couldn't help it. Her new name felt right. Maybe it was the enchantment that made her say out loud: "I like it."

"Alright, Tits," Bitch Cassidy said as she offered a hand to the newly minted whore. "Up you go. Maybe we find a few clients for us in the next town."

"I say you have a few paying clients right here," the girl threw in.

"Listen, girl," Bitch Cassidy started.

"Eliza," the girl volunteered. "Eliza Lay."

"More like Easy Lay," Bitch Cassidy remarked. "I think you forget that I robbed you. Come back when you have more money."

"We could at least give them with a parting fuck," Cumdance Tits complained to her new mentor.

"Plenty of Johns in the next town, kiddo," Bitch Cassidy reminded her.

Eliza was left behind as the two whores saddled the horses and rode off.

"Now who is taking care of my dick?" She shouted in frustration.

She stomped off towards her two companions. Both still sleeping merrily. She kicked them awake.

Benita Kilpatrick and Willamette Carver groaned as they woke up. It was Willamette who spoke up first. "I have morning wood? Hmm. Whores! I have some work for you."

"Don't bother," Eliza told her. "They are gone."

"What? Why?" Benita asked with a pout.

"Because whores only fuck for money," Eliza said as she spied something near the stagecoach. She grasped a pistol and checked the chamber. Mage lead bullets with tiny dicks carved on the bottom. "And I think I know where we get more."

* * * * * * * * * *

"Everybody, stay calm," Eliza said as she entered the train compartment. Behind her, Benita and Willamette pushed into the wagon. Both dressed like Eliza. A skirt that easily parted in the middle and scarves obscuring their faces. "This is a robbery."

In the same moment, two women entered from the other side of the train car. "This is reverse prostitution! Women get your money out as we fuck your men!"

Then both groups noticed each other along the aisle.

"If it isn't Bitch Cassidy," Eliza remarked loudly.

"Easy Lay!" Bitch Cassidy shouted back. "Missed me that much?"

"I always like to fuck the best whore in the wild west," Eliza 'Easy Lay' shouted back.

"It is obvious," Cassidy commented and pointed at Eliza's stiff dick that parted her skirt on its own.

"Bitch, you promised me dicks," Cumdance whined behind her.

Eliza took a look around and had an epiphany. "We take the women and you take the men?" she shouted over.

"Deal!" Bitch Cassidy shouted back.

Grinning the women began to fuck their way through the train.

* * * * * * * * * *

"This was awesome," Willamette Carver remarked as the two groups fled from the scene of the crime.

"It was wild," Cumdance Tits agreed. "We make a good bunch together."

"We need to stay low for a while," Eliza remarked. She slapped Bitch Cassidy's butt. "Might as well stay together for it."

"And I have the perfect place in mind," Bitch Cassidy said with an equally naughty smile. "There used to be a brothel close by. The 'Glory Hole'. We can hunker down there. It is deserted now, but might still have a few beds for us."

"What's a 'Glory Hole'?" Benita Kilpatrick asked Cumdance Tits.

"It's a fancy saying for a 'hole in the wall' that men stick their dick into," Cumdance explained.

"Why would anyone do that?" Willamette Carver wondered out loud.

"Because typically a whore would be on the other side to suck the dick," Bitch Cassidy remarked.

"In that case, these holes in the wall will see a lot of action soon," Easy Lay remarked out loud. It earned her a lot of smirks and laughter.

"Let's go, gang!" Cumdance Tits shouted and together the five women walked off towards the sunset.

None of them knew that soon they would become infamous. Hunted by authorities for 'reverse prostitution on trains'. Bitch Cassidy and her Wild Bunch of whores.

The early midday sun startled me as I left my building. Like every day. I should have gotten used to it. But still every day I winced at the bright sun and needed a moment for my eyes to adjust. I definitely wasn’t a morning person. And yes I was aware of the irony. After I could see again without tears coming to my eyes I started walking to my ‘work’. Not that I had to walk anywhere to do my work. I just preferred to be found in one spot.

As I walked on the sidewalk I heard the sound of my high heels. Another thing I still wasn’t used to. Even after ten months, it sounded foreign. You see I didn’t use to wear heels. It had always been sneakers at home and dress shoes for work. Of course, that was the past. The one where I had my old body.

I came by a shop window and took a moment to watch the display. Of course with the bright sun, the window turned half into a mirror and I saw myself. Still another thing I wasn’t used to. I always think for a moment: "Who is that hot girl in the pantsuit and high heels? She could be a supermodel." Of course, that had been my wish. “Give me the body of a supermodel.” In hindsight, a stupid wish to tell a genie. Of course, now I know that if I didn’t specify a gender it was up to the genie to decide what gender one gets.

Like every day I sigh at the display. There were just the cutest 5-inch heels. Right there and yet out of reach. To expensive. Especially for someone who lives on tips alone. Yes, I know. I bitch about how I am not used to being a woman and then rave about a pair of heels I can’t afford. Well, the truth is that my feet are that of a supermodel too. That means the muscles of my calves are shortened in a way that made wearing anything below four inches painful. So I was stuck with wearing high heels. And if I carried one trait over from my previous life then it was the one where I always had to dress my best. Though I admit when I had been a guy it had been a lot easier. And cheaper.

But enough self-pity. My usual hangout would open soon and I still had a few blocks to go. I arrived shortly after 11 AM and arrived at my goal: a cafe and bar in downtown. Like always I took a moment to watch the rainbow flag, over the entrance, to wave in the wind. It always made me a bit ashamed. I had never given a second thought about gays or transgenders until I was both. Until it got personal. Don’t get me wrong. Before my change, I hadn’t been against these groups of people. I just hadn’t cared either way.

I walked through the door and heard the faint ringing of a bell. Here I was. The place that has gotten to be my second home. I walked by the bar and greeted Milo the bartender. Then I looked around and took the atmosphere in. The bar and cafe were in an older building. It was spread over a ground floor and the first floor. Used to be a clothing store. At least that is what they told me. Like every day I walked up the stairs. Past another counter and greeted there Antoinette. The bartender and server for the first floor. As usual, I took a seat at a small table by the windows. I loved to watch the pedestrians walk by. I wasn’t even sure why.

A moment later Antoinette came by and placed down my ‘morning’ coffee. I thanked her and in my mind, I thanked the owners. I eat and drink for free around here. A moment later she came back to place my tip jar on my table. The jar itself looked a bit out of place. The bar and cafe were decorated with polished wood and had a slight rustic feeling to it. Yet the jar looked crude in comparison. Not that I minded. The jar was handcrafted by a grateful young lady of twelve years. And every time I saw it I was reminded why I was here and not stuck in some meaningless office job.

My first client arrived when I was halfway through my first coffee. She wore a nurse uniform of the nearby hospital. Not that unusual. I had a few clients from there before. Once she had entered the floor she had looked around as if she wasn’t sure why she was here and what to do. She approached Antoinette and she, in turn, pointed to me. Hesitantly she made her way over to me. “Excuse me miss. Are you the fic- Uhm. The genie?”

I gave her a small smile. I knew of my nickname:”the fickle genie”. I didn’t mind it. In fact, it was rather fitting if you go by observation alone.

"It’s okay. The fickle genie thing. Though to be honest, I am not a genie. My power just works along similar lines.”

The nurse looked a bit relieved and sat down opposite of me. “So how does this work?” she asked me. Then she held up a few dollar bills. “I have money,” she added.

The offer of money wasn’t unusual. If I wanted I could live quite comfortable if I offered my services for money. Instead, I told her:”No need. I work for free. Though I accept tips.” I pointed to the tip jar. Before she could say anything I continued:”Here is the deal. I have a power. It’s not as strong as a real genie. So I might not be able to grant every wish. Speaking of- I only fulfill one wish told to me at a time. I also have a cooldown. Well sort of. It’s tied to a person. If you come back in a few months I might be able to grant another wish. So … what’s your wish?”

She swallowed and then told me. “A month back we got a new patient. A young girl. She is in pain and the doctors say her system will soon collapse. She will die soon. The problem is that the doctors aren’t even sure what she has. They are at a loss…” She looked at me expectantly.

I gently placed my hand on hers and gently admonished her:”You need to state a wish.”

"Oh. Oh yeah. Uhm. I wish the girl I told you about will be healed and it, whatever it was, won’t be coming back.”

I nodded and told her:”A good wish. Give me a moment to see if it is within my power to grant it.” I leaned back and closed my eyes. My power flowed through me and it didn’t take me long to find the child. I nearly grinned as I found out I could heal her. But I maintained my poker face and didn't let it show. I could have healed the girl right then, but I was a stickler for my routine. And the very one dictated that I took a peek at my client. Not through my own eyes but with my power.

As I probed her I could read her biggest wish. The one usually left unspoken. But in her case, the one that is hidden and the one spoken were the same. That delighted me. Such a selfless wish deserved a reward. I probed deeper into her mind if I could find another wish. It took me a while. Buried deep within she wished that her legs wouldn’t hurt as much. Her demanding job had done a number on them and now she often came home with cramps and pain. With my probing done I let my power flow. First I healed the girl. Then I healed the nurse's legs. I opened my eyes and gave her a smile. “I granted your wish.”

Overjoyed she thanked me profoundly. She even gave me a tip. A fifty dollar bill if I saw right. After she left I once again was free to enjoy the quiet atmosphere and the pedestrians outside walking by.

Sometime later, I had finished my coffee and was reading a book, when another person came up to me. Male. In his early thirties. Good looking. And the whole wardrobe screamed he was some well done up and comer. As soon as he was here he rambled about his job and coworkers and whatnot. They always talked. Told me stuff that was so unnecessary. It was annoying. I interrupted him and told him:”State your wish. And keep it short.”

"I wish I had a boat.”

Of course, it was a material wish. Should have known. I took a moment and probed his mind for his inner wish. Ahh yes. He fancied a secretary. One that liked the ocean. He really wished to get into her panties. I made my nickname proud and told him:”Your wish is denied.”

Sure enough, he started to argue. Not that it helped him. It only got me more annoyed. In the end, he walked away. No tip from this one. Though I wasn’t sure I wanted money from such a slimy bastard. I sighed and leaned back. I could have granted his wish. Quite easily. Put a small boat on his keychain: wish fulfilled. Put a ship in a bottle on his chimney: wish fulfilled. Drop a whole frickin' yacht on his house: oh hell yeah wish fulfilled. But then again why entertain him. He was one of many with their selfish wishes. He wasn’t the first and he won’t be the last. And denying him would keep my reputation intact. After all, they called me the fickle genie for a reason.

It was early afternoon and I had made good progress in my book when a woman approached me. I guess she was in her early thirties. Though she looked a bit older. After introductions, she sat down and told me why she was here:”You see I am a single parent raising a son. It hasn’t always been easy you know. I thought I had a good relationship with my son but the past few years it’s gotten harder. He used to help out so much at home but nowadays he is just lazy. I tell him time and time again that he should help but all I hear are excuses.”

I nodded at that and felt a little ashamed too. I hadn’t been a very good son too. Back when I had been a son and not a daughter. Still a weird thought that is. “I need to hear a wish, "I reminded her.

“I wish that my son would do more in the household and would value our roles in it more.” A solid wish and a cut and dry case. Yet two things prevented me from fulfilling the wish on the spot. For one I hated changing someone's mind. Call it a personal quirk. For the other part, I looked always into both parties and did my research.

I closed my eyes and let my powers flow through me. After a moment I saw mother and son. Not just in the present but also from the past. Quickly I found out I had judged too soon. The son was doing a lot. When he came home from school and his mother was still at work he did various things in the household. On the weekends he even worked part-time as a clerk in a movie theater. Combined with school and homework I was surprised that he had even time for friends. So the son wasn’t the problem.

I directed my powers to focus on the mother. She had him when she was still in school. Then had dropped out of school and took whatever job she could get her hands on. For the last few years, she had worked as a filing clerk in a big law firm. And there I found the real problem. She was frustrated with her boring work and her lack of advancement. She wouldn’t admit it to herself but she was jealous of her own son. That made her see everything through tinted glasses. Now it was for me to decide what to do. I was limited by the wish. Not as strong as a real genie was but just enough that I couldn’t go willy-nilly and get for example the mother a better job. Repeating the wish in my mind I found a satisfying solution.

I opened my eyes and looked at the mother:”I grant your wish. Starting tomorrow you will be able to directly influence what chores your ‘son’ does and does not. But there is one important thing you have to remember. This wish will stop once you and your son both recognize what each of you does in the household and should do. Understood?”

Of course, she told me yes and was quite happy. But she won’t really understand until tomorrow when she will be waking up in her son’s body and he in hers. Nothing fosters understanding of each other than stepping into the shoes of another. At least that is my experience so far. There was a fifty-fifty chance she would be back and demand I undo the swap. Not that I care.

A few hours later I was talking to Antoinette. She just had ended her shift and now Leo manned the upper bar. It was usually the time the locale got more patrons and with it more clientele for me. So it wasn't surprising that I had soon a visitor.

He was male. Maybe in his late thirties. His clothes weren't the best. Like someone who had fallen on hard times. Those were the hardest to deny material wishes. More often than not I granted them. However, this fella surprised me with his request.

"It is about my niece," he told me. "She had been in an accident a year ago. Now she is laying in a coma. The doctors say her chance to wake up is slim. Now my brother and his wife thinking about disconnecting her."

I bit back a curse. In my profession, you are a magnet for sob stories. Then again I had the chance to better the world, so I didn't mind that much. "I need to hear a wish," I reminded him gently.

"I wish that my niece wakes up from her coma."

As wishes go this one was cut and dry. At once I followed the strings of the wish and found his niece. What I found filled me with dismay.

"I am sorry, but your niece's soul has moved on." Even my power had its limits.

"So she will never wake up again," the man muttered to himself. The shock was evident on his face.

I cringed. Poor sap. I wished that I could do something for him. Since I hadn't denied the wish yet I used the strings of the wish to explore the man. What I found didn't make me feel better. The man thought he was a failure. While his brother builds his dream family, he bumped from one low paying job to the next. But there was more. The brother and his wife both worked in jobs with long hours. So the man often babysits the niece. They had been quite close. Up until the accident happened. Now the parents recognized how much time they wasted they could have spent with their daughter.

The biggest wish of the man was indeed for his niece to wake up. Something I couldn't grant since her soul was gone. Underneath there was a selfish wish, but one I could understand. The man would give nearly anything to start his life over. To slip out of the mantle of failure he endured right now.

"I have found a uniquely suitable soul," I said aloud. "Though, your niece wouldn't be exactly as she was."

The man looked up at me with hopeful eyes. Then they turn inward in contemplation. Eventually, he looked up. "My brother won't know, right?"

"No, unless you tell him," I said truthfully.

"Then please, do it," he begged with sincere eyes.

"Wish granted."

The man thanked me profoundly. Left a generous tip. With new hope he left. I wonder if he would have agreed if I had told him the whole truth. About two blocks down the road he would suffer a heart attack. One he wouldn't survive. Then, a few days later, his niece would wake up with his soul in it. I am not one for erasing a souls personality, so the niece will have his and her memories. Then it will be up to the new 'her' to make her new parents happy. And herself of course.

For a moment I rub my eyes. The further I bend a wish the more fatigued I get. At least by now, it is late enough that cafe menu ends and the real bar opens. Hollering at Leo gets me a nice cold beer. Just what I needed. For a moment I close my eyes. As I open them I need a moment to make sure I am not seeing things. Two minors are just stepping up the stairs. Maybe fourteen or fifteen. How they got past the bouncer downstairs was beyond me. At least at first. When they beelined to me I knew my next client arrived.

"Sorry kids. If you wish for a beer then I am not the one you are looking for."

Their nervous glances at each other told me that my joke flew right over their head.

"So. What can I do for you?" I already braced myself for another long story of background information. Clients were always the same.

"I wish my best friend here is changed into a one hundred percent biological girl," the one boy said who looked a little more confident and taller than the other one.

I nearly whistled out loud in appreciation. Straight to the point with a solid wish. Why can't all clients be like that? I glanced at the boy who is the would-be transformed girl. Didn't even flinch. That means he knew his best friend would wish for his gender to be bent. Curious.

For once I needed more background information and didn't get it from my client. The irony wasn't lost on me. So I used the means of the wish to look into the boy that is to be transformed. And immediately I stand corrected. Girl trapped in a boys body. The girl was very much aware of it. She tried to speak to her parents, who dismissed the notion that their "boy" might be a girl. Quoting "he" might be too young to come to this realization.

Her best friend helped where he could. Even got her an appointment with a psychologist who specializes in gender issues. One who agreed with the girl's assessment. But as soon as the parents found out they shut it down. It was no wonder that those two stood now before me.

Of course, I would grant the wish. It was against the wishes of the parents but then again those hardly acted like adults. And they weren't here. Before I fulfilled the wish I peeked at the boy. The one who made the wish. To be so young yet being so mature about his best friends plight deserved a reward. As I peeked inside I got the next surprise. It nearly made me sigh. He was also a she but hid it well. Fearing that her parents would react the same way as her friend's parents did. Oh boy! Or girl. Whatever. So I had two girls trapped boys bodies. The one open about it and the other one was too shy to do so but hid it behind a mask of bravery. What to do? I smirked as the answer came to me.

"You know what they call me, right?"

After a moment of hesitation the one who made the wish answered. "The fickle genie."

"I earned that nickname because I sometimes grant a wish and sometimes I deny them. However, other times I expect a little extra before granting a wish. Let's make a deal. I'll grant the wish if it counts for you both."

There was a moment of silence as the boys, correction - girls, got my meaning. "You can't make this deal," the younger one begged the older one. "I know how awful it is to be stuck in the wrong gender. I don't want you to feel the same."

"It'll be alright," the older one said to play it cool. "I never was much invested in being a boy anyways." He turned to me and I had a hard time not to grin at the theatrics. "Please grant my wish."

"Done," I told them. "Tomorrow you wake up as girls. Enjoy your last day as boys."

I shook my head as the two headed away. They had thanked me profoundly, but the younger one was still trying to make the older one understand what a bad idea this had been. The older one played it cool. Well, whatever floats their boat. My work was done.

But not for long. An older man pushed himself through the crowd and stopped before my table.

"Are you the fickle genie?"

"People call me that," I replied.

"I wish there was a woman in my companies building who could finally cook some decent coffee. The stuff my secretaries brew is abysmal."

I sighed. Heavily. This is the stuff I have to deal with day after day. Can a wish be any more mundane and stupid? Maybe it was the last two clients and their sob stories, but I actually gave the man a moment of my time.

Through the wish I unrevealed the mystery behind the man. He was a CEO of some architect company. His secretaries coffee was actually decent. It was just that this guy was really into coffee. As in he was a maniac. A coffee aficionado. No one, but a complete professional would meet his lofty expectations. Certainly no secretary who had better stuff to do. If only there was a dedicated coffee shop in the building. There was space available on the first floor.

I looked up to the man and gave him a dirty grin. "You know what. Wish granted. Tomorrow the people in your companies building will have access to top-notch coffee."

"Really?" he asked me.

"Of course. As good as the coffee you brew yourself at home."

Smiling that man walked away. If he only knew. Tomorrow he would wake up in a new apartment and inside a new body. Finding the signed lease to the former empty shop on the first floor. Now equipped with the finest stuff money could buy to make coffee. I even stocked it with the best coffee beans available.

I wonder if he will regret that he wished that it would be a woman who supplied the coffee in said building. Else he might have kept his gender.

Looking at the clock I decided that this was my last client. I was about to pick up my tip jar when a woman sat down in front of me.

"I wish you'd stop doing this," she said without so much as a hello.

"Kathrine," I sighed. "Wish denied. I wish you and your kind would stop pestering me."

"You can't continue doing this," she urged me. "You are upsetting the balance."

"What balance?" I ask her. "The one you think has to be there. The golden duty you put on yourself? Listen. I bend genders as much as I want. If a soul leans to one gender after ten lives being said gender than who am I to deny their wish? At least with me, they can choose. You and your kind never ask."

"We can't ask," she reminded me. "And it would be beside the point."

"Right. Because your powers are so weak you can only gender bend the unborn. Let's face it, Kathrine. Your kind is a sham. Some stupid occult order that tries to keep souls in the balance between male and female. Without you, transgender people wouldn't exist. I say let nature run its cause. If you disrupt it then I see it as my duty to fix it."

"Like you fixed your last visitor?" she poked at me. "He wasn't transgender or affected by my order."

"What can I say?" I ask her with a shrug of my shoulders. "I am fickle in my whims."

Before she can reply I stand up and walk away. Stupid righteous fanatics. One day she and her kind will slip up. State an unwise wish in my presence. And that day I will be ready. But not today.

I hand Leo my tip jar after I emptied it. Overall it was a good day for tips. A few more days an maybe I could afford those cute 5-inch heels. What? A girl can dream, right? If only I could fulfill my own wishes...

---

Chapter 1 - 2 days until space

---

Eliza was laughing and gave Nick one of her brilliant smiles. He couldn't remember what he had said that elicited her response. Not that he needed to. Just seeing her smile was enough. It was a view he could never get enough of. Her infectious laugh paused as she stole one chunk of his protein ration bar. Triumphantly leaning back in her seat and devouring the morsel. Right. Now Nick remembered. They were on lunch break in their ambulance. Eliza had made herself comfortable in the passenger seat and Nick-

A loud banging sound distracted Nick. Eliza ignored it. Happily retelling some story. But Nick wondered where it came from. The next bang pulled him away from Eliza.

"Not yet," he thought, but his prayer went unanswered.

A third bang rang out and Nick woke up. The view was a depressing one. The ceiling of his bunk bed was uncomfortably close. The first few days, he hit his head when waking up. Now, his body had learned its lesson. Shoes hit the ground beside Nick. As the latest newcomer, he got the lowest of the bunks.

Nick withdrew as much into his bed as he could. His cellmates did their morning routines and it wasn't uncommon that some splashes went his way. The cell he shared with the other inmates was tiny. About three square meters. Some of the space was taken up by the toilet and some by a fold-up table. One person could stand up comfortably. It was tight when two stood. No one cared that Nick shared the cell with three others. Most of their time, they spend laying in their bunk waiting.

"It will be one year tomorrow," he quietly whispered to himself. One down. Thirty-nine to go. The familiar feeling of despair made itself known. It was unlikely that he would end his sentence as intended. Most gave up after a few months to years. The suicide rate in prisons was sky-high. And if you didn't check out yourself, one of the gang members might give you a helping hand. All one had to do was to catch their attention at the wrong time.

The guard coming to their cells had added a few new insults to his repertoire. It alleviated Nick's boredom only slightly. In a long line, they made for the dining hall. The rhythmic squeaking of rubber slippers of dozens of inmates on cheap linoleum reminded Nick of the ambulance he used to drive. The old lady had seventy years under her hood and the electric motors weren't what they used to be. At high speeds, there was that high-pitched squeaking that no technician could pinpoint.

Breakfast was the same gelatinous mound as always. And as always, there was a shout or two of "There is an insect leg in my food!". Nick could never tell if that shout was real or part of a running gag. So far, he hadn't a nasty surprise aside from the abysmal taste.

Nick was nearly done as shouts broke out. Some kind of altercation that turned violent quickly. He saw shivs slashing in wide arcs or desperate close-quarters thrusts. This wouldn't end well. Nick withdrew to the opposite with anyone else with half a brain. He took a stance that clearly showed his hands empty. It was only a matter of time until the guards stormed the room. Not too soon. There was always the chance that a few prisoners wouldn't make it out alive. It would mean there would be fewer mouths to feed and it would make a tiny dent in the massive overpopulation on Earth of twenty billion people.

Something wet landed on his cheek and Nick swiped at it by instinct. Blood, he realized. It must have been flung across the room after a vicious attack. Nick looked up. Men lay bleeding on the ground. Shouting came from those who were still standing. A scene of utter chaos.

In the next blink, Nick wasn't in the prison anymore. Medipack in hand, he stood before a burning skyscraper. A large chunk in the middle was missing. As if a giant had taken a bite out of it. Most of the smoke and flames came from there.

"Come on!"

Eliza hurried past him. Falling to the knees beside a wounded person who had made it out alive. Her movements were fast, but not frantic.

"Patch!"

Nick withdrew one from the bag and handed it over. His job was to get Eliza here and then play assistant. As well as to keep her use of materials in check. The self-adhesive patch was used to staunch the blood flow of a nasty cut. It would do until reinforcements arrived. Eliza and Nick weren't here to fix people up, but as first responders, they would survey the damage and categorize people by priority.

They made their way through the masses. Applying quick fixes here and there before moving on. Not all were treated the same. A few they had to ignore despite similar or even aggravated wounds of those they treated before. They were simply too low in social standing to matter. As much as they hated it, treating them would be considered a waste of resources and a crime.

After what felt like a lifetime, but probably was only five minutes, they spied a heavily wounded young woman. As Eliza kneeled down, Nick nearly spoke up. She was as good as dead. They both knew it. That young woman was not worth saving in the eyes of society. The injured whispered something that Nick couldn't hear, but Eliza had and her eyes hardened. She looked up at Nick.

"Nanite injection."

Nick's eyes grew wide. A patch here and there was okay. Maybe they even could justify some painkillers for a dying person. But a shot of nanites? Those were reserved for the upper crust. Each injection was worth more than Nick could earn in a lifetime. There was just no justification.

"Eliza, we can't-"

"Nanite injection. Please!"

He never had seen her look at him like that. Scared. Determined. Hopeful? Nick withdrew the syringe with the nanites. The moment he handed it over, he knew they were doomed. Eliza committed a crime by requesting and administering the nanites. Nick's job was to prevent unnecessary spending of resources and now he was guilty of gross negligence. They would be tried in a court of law. Spend decades in prison. If they survived, they might see each other again as old people. Or never again. They were both doomed and they knew it.

Their eyes met. There was a nod. "Let's save as many as we can, while we still can."

"Break it up! Break it up! Break it up!"

The loud shout made Nick snap back to the present. Guards in riot gear had arrived and now circled around the remaining prisoners who had turned violent. Nick and the other inmates pushed back against the wall as much as they could. To give space and not get caught up in what was about to unfold.

The guards, as they moved in, encountered heavy resistance. Gone was the animosity of the prisoners for each other. A common enemy united them. But there was more. A few prisoners Nick had outed out as dead or dying jumped back to their feet. Had the riot been faked? A trap to lure in the guards?

Whatever the plan had been, it died with violence. The guards' brutality broke any resistance. The prisoners did get a few licks in but ultimately perished for their ambition.

"Shit! Jeremy!"

One of the guards was on the ground. Bleeding heavily. Nick took a step forward and was surprised by it himself. Another guard whirled around and pointed with a baton at Nick.

"Stand back! Or you'll end up like them."

Why had he stepped forward? This was crazy. Suicidal even. Eliza came to his mind. Her happy laugh, but also that look of determination. She would help. Even if it puts herself at risk.

"I used to be a medic," Nick urged the guard. "Let me take a look. It can't hurt, right? And we both know there is not a doctor on the premises. Let alone close to the prison. He'll bleed out before help arrives."

Another guard stepped forward. Not much older than Nick himself, but he was clearly in charge. He bore the scars that spoke of more than riots survived. "Let him through."

Nick didn't hesitate and kneeled down beside the young man. The bleeding wasn't as bad as he feared. Still, what weapon could penetrate riot gear? Certainly, nothing scrounged together within the prison. But it was the smell that alerted Nick.

"Whatever they used, it has nicked the intestines at least. Probably worse." For now, Nick used his hands to put pressure on the wound. "I need something to close the wound. A suture kit if you have it. Common needle and thread otherwise. Something to disinfect the wound."

The guards sprung into action. Finding a needle and thread was the easiest part. Most guards had a small sewing kit stashed away somewhere. Their uniforms were as patched as Nick's medic uniform had been. Next, a few first aid kits arrived. They barely contained anything. Used up and never refilled. Like anything else in the lower social groups. There was one needle that had been used before and sterilized after. Probably not as sharp as before, but it was better than a common sewing needle. The disinfectant arrived in the form of a half-empty squeeze bottle of hand sanitizer. It would have to do.

The operation, if one could call it that, was less than ideal. The lighting was bad and Nick had to widen the wound to get to the intestines. Finding the perforated part was easy. Stitching it up was not. Nick couldn't tell how much time had passed when he finally closed up the surface wound.

Once finished, the older guard took him to the side. "What are his chances?"

There was no reason to lie. It was better to be blunt and Nick didn't held back his verdict. "Fifty-fifty, if you keep the wound clean and let him rest. Higher if he can get to a hospital and proper care."

"Not likely," the guard grumbled. Then patted Nick on the shoulder. "There ain't much I can do for you with the higher-ups, but you have our gratitude. For whatever that is worth."

"Cole? Nick Cole? Is he still here?"

The question came from a new guard in a normal uniform. Just having arrived at the cafeteria and somehow looking quite out of place among the carnage.

Weary, Nick stood up. What had luck in store for him now? With the morning he was having, it wouldn't be good. "Yeah, I am here."

"I need you to come with me," the newcomer revealed. "You have a visitor."

Nick frowned. That was rather strange. The prison was far away from his former residence or workplace. It was doubtful that any of his remaining friends or acquaintances had made the journey out here. Eliza was locked up in another prison. Just like him. Who else could it be? The only person he knew that could be visiting him was his mother. Doubtful, as she had joined a new-fangled religious movement. In Nick's mind, New Dawn Revelation was a homicidal cult, but they somehow evaded the authorities. He didn't know how his mother got mixed up with them, but he was determined to stay clear of all that.

"I am not really presentable." Nick motioned with blood-drenched hands at the aftermath of the improvised surgery. His prisoner garb looked like he had taken part in the riot.

The new guard had the decency to appear flustered but didn't budge an inch. "The visitor is aware of the, uhm, circumstances. She still wants to see you. I am ordered to immediately take you to the visitation area. By order of the warden."

Nick's face distorted into a frown. Definitely not his mother. She had been born into the same social strata he had been later. Nick had a feeling he knew who was knocking on his door. But it couldn't be helped.

Getting properly ready was impossible and yet quick at the same time. He looked like a mess and the impression was only strengthened as he wiped his bloody hands on his prisoner uniform. With a nod, he indicated that he was ready. Following out of the cafeteria and through the labyrinthine hallways of the prison. It was large and by the time they reached their destination, a quarter hour had passed.

The person waiting for him was not what he had expected. She was surprisingly young for a mining company recruiter. The business suit he had expected. Not so much that it was covered in sequins of all colors of the rainbow. The subtle gradients invoked the imagery of fish scales. Strange for sure, but Nick wouldn't let that throw him off balance.

Deftly, he took a seat and started to speak up before she could. "Save it. I am not desperate enough to sign up for my brain to be scanned. Just so you can upload it into a tin can of asteroid miner, where I slowly go insane. No, thanks. I rather check out here than suffer up there until I have enough and ram myself into an asteroid. Are we done?"

Neither his hostile statement nor the angrily quirked eyebrow seemed to intimidate her. She even smiled. "Going straight to the point. You are a man of my taste, Mister Cole. And I agree. One hundred percent. Oh, where are my manners? My name is Brooke Davila and I am here as a representative of Nixen Luft- und Raumfahrt GmbH."

Perplexed, Nick stared at the offered hand. Pristine, soft, and clean. Quite unlike his own. She didn't even appear to be phased by his outburst. And the gall of that woman to act like this meeting wasn't already over. Normally, Nick was above playing games, but after the morning he had he might give it a try. He reached out and shook his hand. Taking his time so that as much of the dried blood would smudge her cleanliness as possible.

"I wish I could say it is a pleasure to meet you, but it isn't. My guess is I can't go back to my cell until you give me your whole spiel. So have at it, Miss Brooke Davila of whatever your company was called."

Brooke appeared to have the patience of a Saint. She gave a sensible chuckle at his outburst and didn't even try to clean the smudged dried blood off her hand.

"It's a mouthful, isn't it? Nixen is a German company. Pretty much translates to aviation and space travel. Took me a while to get it right. But alas, we have more important things to discuss. I am on a timetable. So let's get to the point. Nobody wants to be an asteroid miner. Suicide rates above ninety percent scare away most. A pity since mankind needs those resources now more than ever."

Nick leaned forward. "And now you're gonna tell me how this Nixen company you work for is different. What? You promise suicide rates ten percent lower? Fifteen? That I make it back alive. Rich and a hero. If it really is that important, why don't you go up there and save mankind."

Once again, Brooke weathered his hostility with calmness. Worse, she showed openly a knowing smirk. He had walked into some kind of trap, but of what kind?

"Oh, I will. You see, Mister Cole, I am not just empty words and promises. I know how it is up there. Me being one of the first eight volunteers of phase one. I spent eight months up there in the sea of stars and I haven't kicked the bucket or returned ready for the looney bin." Now Brooke leaned forward and closed the distance. Giving Nick a better view of the intensity that burned in her eyes. "And in two days, I'll join phase three. And let me tell you, I ain't coming back." Brooke broke eye contact to look at her hand. Flexing it a few times. Acknowledging for the first time the blood he had smudged her with. "This world is doomed, Mister Cole. But up there, it is pristine. The future. Nixen will have you believe that they hold the key to saving humanity. Maybe. Personally, I want to escape. To have more freedom." With a sigh, Brooke leaned back again. Relaxing slightly. "I am getting ahead of myself. Have you heard of biomechanical mimicry engineering?"

The question caught Nick off guard. For a moment, he had thought she wanted to recruit him by her conviction alone, but now she switched tracks. "Robots that mimic animals, right? I heard of robotic bees as the real ones died out."

"More than that, Mister Cole." Brooke pointed at the ceiling, but Nick knew she indicated something much higher. "We humans are made of flesh. We need it to keep sane. That's why all those uploaded robo-miners go mad. No one wants to be a tin can, Mister Cole. Nixen understood that. For the last two decades, they developed exactly that. Not robots that look like humans, but microscopic ones that interlink to build complex systems. Skeleton, muscles, skin, tissue, and organs."

As much as he wanted to dismiss her and call it bogus, Nick had to admit to himself he was intrigued. If true, this changed everything. For a moment, he envisioned himself floating in Space. Drifting among a sea of stars. No need to breathe or eat.

"That sounds too good to be true," Nick remarked eventually. "There was to be a snag. I haven't heard of anything like this. Not even remotely close to this scale. The miniaturization must be extreme."

"Well, true. We aren't capable of scaling down to human proportions yet. Nixen is cheating. Up there, we'd be about two and a half times the size of a normal human. Not that it matters. Everything we grow there is to our scale." Brooke held up her index finger as Nick was about to speak up. "Yes, we grow things up there. If we are talking about biomechanical mimicry engineering, it envelops all aspects of mining up there. Drones resemble fish or octopuses. Mining machines are planted and grow like trees, flowers, and bushes. I had a garden up there." She was quick to pull out a tablet PC from her bag. A few taps and then she handed the tablet to Nick. "Take a look for yourself."

For a moment, Nick had imagined a forest free-floating in space. But the landscape he laid his eyes upon reminded him more like an underwater scene. He could see corals and algae dotting the surface of ragged gray rock. Schools of fish swam through the fauna. But the blue of the ocean was missing. Instead, the blackness of space dominated the background. And then he noticed them. Scattered among the scenery were women going about their business. But they weren't quite human. Zooming in confirmed his suspicion.

"Mermaids?"

"In Space. Yeah, I know. Hard to believe." Brooke took back the tablet only to swipe a few times and hand it back. It was a group shot of eight mermaids. Floating among algae and beneath an ocean and stars. It wasn't hard to find Brooke. "That's me and everyone else from phase one. Believe me, it took me a while to accept it too. Nixen didn't just advertise an open position as mermaids. First, they rolled out an immersive virtual reality game. See if people can cope with being a mermaid. Then, they commissioned a study with long-term immersion. That's how they got to me. Once for three months and then for six. Still, when they revealed their real goal and asked me to participate, I needed a moment."

"Mermaids in space." Nick shook his head. Not to dismiss the notion but as a reaction to the audacity of this company. It appeared like they didn't do half measures."And now you need more. Mermaids. Well, merman in my case."

Brooke flinched. It wasn't a big gesture, but the first negative one she displayed since they had started their chat. "To be honest, no. The budget of Nixen was limited. So, they decided to focus on designing mermaids first. Mermen are planned for the future, but the design process just started. Now that the income from phases one and two are in it gives Nixen the liquidity. But I fear mermen aren't a thing for the next five to ten years. To be clear, if you sign on, it will be as a mermaid."

Maybe she was getting to him, but he actually gave it a short moment to think it through. Asteroid miners usually earned a share of the profits. One tour up there might not just wipe his debt off the table, but make him rich. And if Brooke was here then this Nixen company has to have a way to get him out of prison. It was tempting. Despite the thought of technically not being human anymore. Or being female.

Nick schooled his face. It wasn't strengthening his position if he revealed how much Brooke had already gotten to him. "Let's say I am not totally against the notion I might sign on. But why me? If you only have mermaids ready and not mermen, wouldn't it make more sense to recruit women?"

Instead of answering, Brooke pulled two folders out of her bag. Made from paper no less. One she placed on the table and Nick could read his name on it. She opened the second before he could read this one too.

"Eliza Mckenzie. Age thirty-two. Ambulance doctor. Good education and reviews. That is until one day she threw her career away by using restricted access medicine on undeserving patients." Brooke looked up to catch Nick's gaze. "Mind you, undeserving in the views of society. Nixen? They gobble people like her up. Those who haven't given up on humanity. Willing to put others before themselves. That is a rare trait these days. One you share with her."

Nick's eyes had grown wide. He had nearly given up on seeing her ever again. Had she recommended him? The conclusion was simple. "Eliza signed up to become a mermaid."

"Just about. There is just one snag. A little condition she has." Brooke put the folder away and steepled her fingers. "She agreed to become a mermaid only if you do too. Hence why I am here. Either you join up both, or we go up two heads short."

All the other questions, problems, and concerns fell away for Nick. There was only one thing on his mind: what was he willing to do to see Eliza again? To have a chance to tell her how he really felt.

Oddly calm, he addressed Brooke. "Where do I sign?"

Silently, Brooke opened up Nick's folder and withdrew a contract. Without even reading, Nick signed with an offered pen. Then, Brooke stood up. Motioning for Nick to follow. She walked straight up to the guard. Handing him a check and paperwork.

"Nixen Luft- Und Raumfahrt GmbH has taken Nick Cole under contract. This should cover his debt to the state and pay for the alternative punishment clause to commute his remaining prison sentencing."

And just like that, Nick was a free man. At liberty to go anywhere he wanted. As long as it was in the direct line to a rocket aimed for space.

---

Chapter 2 - First day in space

---

Nick woke up in a tight confined space in utter darkness. For a moment, he was confused. Couldn't remember how he came to be here, instead of waking up in his prison bunk bed. Instead being balled up in a shell that didn't leave much breathing room.

Then the memories came back. Brooke. His release from prison. Traveling further than ever before in a high-speed train going under the ocean. Arriving in a hospital where he would technically die. Just to be reborn in space.

"No turning back now," Nick whispered and then startled himself. Yes, his voice had a new pitch to it. Quite feminine. That, he had expected. But he was in space, right? How could he talk without air? The answer would elude him forever if he didn't get his butt moving.

With all his might, Nick pushed at his enclosure and cracks appeared. It fractured and came apart in pieces. They would have drifted away if not for a thin membrane connecting them all. Widening the gap, Nick could shrug it off and unroll himself. He had a tail. It was long - easily twice the size of his upper body - and had a few more fins than he expected. It was of a metallic silver color and Nick could spy tiny scales covering it.

Of course, there were other changes. One he had expected, yet in some aspect, they felt even more alien than the tail. The hardest to ignore were the breasts. But the slender arms and slim waist didn't go unnoticed. Nor did the long hair that floated behind his back.

Further examination eluded him as movement around him drew his attention. He wasn't the only mermaid freshly hatched. Nick could spy over a dozen that slipped out of large silvery eggs. Answering the age-old question for him: what came first? Mermaid or egg? They were colorful too. Most had scales in two complementary tones, but one boasted with three.

His eyes grew wide as he noticed Brooke seemingly swimming through space. Her tail appeared to be three times as long as other mermaids with larger fins that reminded Nick of sails. But this wasn't the only difference. At first, she appeared to be on the same scale as the other mermaids. But as she came closer, the size of her body grew. She aimed directly for Nick and as she pulled to a step beside him, he guessed her torso was four times his own. He didn't even dare guess how long the tail was. Her coloring was a mesmerizing display of teal and purple.

Brooke reached past him and caught the eggshell that Nick hatched out of and pulled it closer to him. "Don't let it float away."

A little stunned, Nick grabbed the shell by instinct. His mind was in a tumult. So many questions were on his mind that they jammed in his throat. Why was Brooke so huge? How could she speak? This was space. Soundwaves couldn't travel in a vacuum. For that matter, why was Nick breathing? There wasn't anything to breathe. He only got an answer to why he was supposed to hold onto the eggshell. As Brooke swam away, he could see other mermaids start breaking off chunks and munching on them as if they were nacho chips.

"Nick?"

He knew that voice! Nick twisted in space until he saw another silvery mermaid drifting not too far away. There was no doubt in his mind. Brooke had held her promise. They were reunited.

"Eliza! You are here. I had-"

"Everyone, can I get your attention?" The booming voice belonged to Brooke who had swam into the middle of the scattering of smaller mermaids. "Undoubtedly, you are all excited, but we need to get a few basic steps out of the way. Safety first, you understand? Most of you had extensive training, but we have two last-minute additions to our little group. Everyone, say hello to Eliza and Nick."

Suddenly in the spotlight, Eliza and Nick had to endure the usual cacophony of over a dozen people offering greetings at the same time. There clearly was curiosity in their eyes. Who were these two mysterious additions? The thought nearly made Nick chuckle.

As the murmurs died down, Brooke continued her spiel. "There was no time to teach them the basics, so please be patient with them. Eliza. Nick. Don't hesitate to ask. We start with basic maneuvering training in a moment. But before we do, make sure to recycle your eggshells. Yes, you can eat them. Even in space, we can't waste resources."

It wasn't hard to break apart a piece of the shell. Now that Nick dedicated some attention to it, he could see a geometric pattern on the inside of the shell in the form of triangles. Break away lines, he realized. He had cracked the shell along those lines as he hatched. A little hesitant, he bit into it. The fragment was metal, but it didn't taste like it. The closest parallel he could imagine was that of hard candy. There was sweetness, but also a melange of spices he couldn't identify. Overall, it didn't taste bad. He had eaten worse. If he was honest, probably most of his previous culinary experience paled to this taste.

"Okay, a little foundation first." Brooke gave an apologetic smile to the rest of the swarm of mermaids. "Eliza. Nick. Have you heard of Antonio Ortega, Isabel Demas, and their discovery?"

Nick could see Eliza shrug her shoulders, so it fell to him to save their honor and to not completely appear clueless. "If I remember right, they were physicists. They discovered some kind of fluidic subspace."

"They think they discovered a fluidic subspace," Brooke corrected. "They aren't sure. Nobody is. While experimenting, they found out that certain materials under the right current experience a form of additional drag they couldn't account for. Further examination revealed that this interaction mimics physical interaction with fluids. Not very practical on Earth, but here-"

Using her long tail, Brooke accelerated and swam loops around and through the mermaid swarm. Then she came to rest and continued her lecture. "We don't know if it is a higher, lower, or parallel dimension we tap into. But by dipping into it, we can create locomotion even in the void of space. Anything that would work underwater works here. Ship screws, jets, and such. But as Nixen prefers mimicking biological processes, we have tails. The mental jump to make our bodies mermaids wasn't huge."

Nick had wondered why mermaids of all things ever since Brooke first brought it up. But laid out like this, it made sense. The upper body of a human, because that's what they are familiar and comfortable with. Bringing along tool handling with their arms and hands. They could have gone with legs for normal "swimming", but that would be as inefficient as swimming in the ocean. Humans can do it, but not as well or efficiently as fish. Combining both was the best of both worlds. That Earth has matching mythology was a fortuitous coincidence.

"Now, all of you concentrate on your lower abdomen. A muscle is placed there that acts as a switch to engage what is commonly referred to as the Substrata. The effect Ortega and Demas discovered. If you think you got it, try to use your tail to accelerate. Be careful! Your tail is capable of higher acceleration than you might expect. Start slow. Those of you who are familiar with Kegel exercises might have an easier time to get it working."

Leaving his half-eaten shell aside, Nick tried the exercise like every other member of their little swarm. The first mermaid figured it out after five minutes. More gradually joined. One suddenly lurched with amazing speed and was gone from their sight in seconds. Brooke sighed and raced after the wayward mermaid. Urging the others to take it slow and carefully before she left.

After half of them managed to swim in space, someone joined Nick for company. The only silver-scaled mermaid besides himself. "Hey there." Eliza wasn't her usual outgoing self. She appeared concerned and unsure. "Gosh, you look so much like yourself, but different. They really nailed it. To be honest, I wasn't sure you would come. This is a lot and-"

There was hope in her eyes, Nick realized. They hadn't seen each other for over a year and now, they were reunited. Nick couldn't let this chance go by. "Of course, I came. Eliza, I have to tell you something. I-"

His confession of love was cut short as Eliza kissed him. It was a short urgent kiss, but as Eliza softened her kiss to judge his reaction, Nick didn't let go. Telling her his feelings by drawing her close and deepening their kiss. Close together - their tails entwined - they floated through space as if they were alone in the dark void. Only having eyes for each other.

Then whistles and cat-calling reminded them that they were anything but alone. Blushing, both separated. "We need to talk later," Nick whispered and Eliza gave a nod. Just then, Brooke returned with the wayward mermaid and the focus shifted to the practice again. Nick wasn't the last to figure it out. Thanks to some pointers from Eliza. But it was a close call.

"Looks like you all figured it out." Brooke motioned for them to get closer. "As Anne here found out - despite my warnings - you all are capable of amazing acceleration. You have to be careful. If you connect to the Substrata, only the necessary part for locomotion is submerged. This minimizes drag and amplifies locomotion. No mermaid has tried it yet, drones in tests reached zero point one c. That means ten percent of light speed."

Nick whistled as he concluded some minor calculations inside his head. "That's enough speed to reach Alpha Centauri in forty years or so. Within our lifetime."

"Well within. Technically, while you are mermaids, you don't age." Apparently, Brooke had heard him and fluidly picked up his line of thought. "It wouldn't even be forty years. At least not subjectively. Right now our brains are purely electronic mimicking our natural neural networks. We can slow down our processor on purpose. Cutting it by half, means subjectively time passes for us twice as fast. Quarter it and time passes four times as fast. And so on. Very practical for longer distance travels. Speaking of-"

Brooke grabbed poor Anne again. The mermaid looked like a child compared to the enormity of Brooke. "Anne here made another slight mistake. Once accelerated, she disconnected from the Substrata in panic. Without the Substrata, we travel like normal physical objects in space. What's in motion stays in motion. Nothing to break our speed save from some stray space dust and the solar winds. As such, we keep on traveling. To slow down you have to connect to the Substrata." Brooke clapped her hands excitedly. "Now eat up your shells. Time for some flying of maneuvers."

Nick had enough and couldn't help but raise his hand. "How the hell are we talking in space? Or clap. Even breathe. We are in a vacuum."

"Ah, right. You didn't have that part of the orientation." Brooke gave him a sheepish apologetic smile. "Breathing is normal for humans, so our breathing here is simulated. Down to how it feels to draw in a lung full of air. Same for speaking. As for sounds - voice included - we have a dedicated processor that analyzes events around us and creates appropriate sounds. So, the clap you hear is purely simulated. In addition, our speech is transmitted via radio waves. This means we can hear each other over vast distances. There are even private channels. I will show you how to access them later."

With his curiosity satisfied for now, Nick dedicated his attention to the remainder of his shell. Thankfully, eating it was more like a treat than a chore. But soon his attention was taken up by Brooke again. Among the large fins on her tail, smaller ones started to grow. They pushed outward as an oblong body followed. Until at last, they separated as a good copy of fishes. Drones, Nick reasoned. Once formed and separated, they darted off into the depths of space. Quickly vanishing in the distance.

Once again, Brooke clapped her hands to get the attention of all the mermaids. "Alright. Time to get a move on. Now, before you head off into the vastness of space, activate your HUD. It will assist you with navigating. Those of you who have experience in virtual reality gaming shouldn't have trouble activating it. If anyone has troubles, let me know."

Activating the overlay wasn't hard for Nick, but interpreting the wealth of information flooding him was. The system automatically added a projected plane into his view that represented the solar ecliptic. There was a crisscross of lines in the distance. Most of them were green, but a few were highlighted in tones ranging from red to yellow. Fascinating was the automatic measuring system provided. From head to tail, each of the mermaids was nine point one meters long. Save for Brooke, who was nearly sixty-five meters long and dwarfed them all. Three-quarters of it was her tail. Reminding Nick a little less of a mermaid and more of a Chinese dragon.

"What are the lines?" Eliza asked before Nick could.

"These are the projected paths of stellar orbits. Right now we are at a total stop. Not even orbiting the sun. This means we would eventually fall into her if we don't get a move on. It would take quite a while though. It also means that each object that orbits the sun right now travels at unfathomable speeds compared to us. They could squash us in a split second and we would never see it coming. Let alone dodge it. Crossing into a red line is certain death. As you accelerate to match orbits, lines may change to orange - risky - and yellow - save for now, but long term getting risky -. Green is safe at your current acceleration. Be aware. If you change speeds, safe paths might become risky, and dangerous ones might lose their teeth. In general, you should stay out of projected paths if you can help it."

Brooke looked around if any more questions popped up. Then gave a grin. "Let's see how good you can swim."

Spheres appeared in the distance. All white, except for the closest one that was colored blue and had a label attached: "Buoy One". A mere five thousand meters away. The challenge was clear and the more competitive mermaids wasted no time. Practically leaping at the opportunity to swim freely.

"Come on," Eliza urged as most mermaids had already started their sprint. As she started her chase, Nick needed a moment to collect himself. There had been that genuine smile he had missed in the last year. The one he had feared he would never see again. For the moment, that was the most precious feeling in the world for him.

Catching up with Eliza wasn't hard. Brooke was right. Mermaids were capable of unbelievable acceleration. After just a minute, Nick had already built up a speed of nearly a thousand kilometers an hour. The distance of five thousand kilometers appeared to be melting away. He could already see the lead mermaids homing in on the buoy. Not with his eyes. They were too far away. But the icons representing them inched steadily closer in his view.

Like the rest of them, Nick had missed one little detail. This "buoy" was mislabeled. Maybe on purpose. He had witnessed as the drone had emerged and sped away from Brooke. He shouldn't have been surprised that the drone could still move, but he was. Along with the rest of the leading mermaids, who suddenly overshot as the drone performed a quick evasion maneuver. Nick immediately flipped and tried to slow down to gain maneuverability, but it was too late. Just like the rest of them, he overshot.

Laughing could be heard from all the way back where Brooke caught up at a more steady pace. Clearly anticipating everyone falling for her trap. A moment later, Nick joined in. He had to hand it to her. It was a good lesson she just taught them. Rush and you might miss. Not to mention that the sequence of the chasers had just flipped. Nick suddenly was closer to the lead as he was one of the first to break to reduce speed. Now they all had to backtrack to return to the drone.

Nick needed two more passes to make the drone count his approach as valid. A last-minute break and a sharp turn finally placed him within fifty meters. Landing him squarely in the middle field as the race for buoy number two started. Now that they knew the drones could and would move, the mermaids split up in tactics. Most didn't go past moderate speeds and slowed down earlier. Not Nick. This was like the good old days of racing through the streets in his ambulance to quickly get to an emergency. But this time, it was purely for fun. It gave him a kick to accelerate and break quickly. Build up enormous speeds and chase those dodgy drones. He wasn't the only one. Two other mermaids gave him fierce competition. Not that Nick minded. It added to the challenge.

Homing in on the sixth buoy, Nick received a call on a private channel. "Would you slow down?" He could hear the barely suppressed laughter in Eliza's voice. "You aren't running away from something, right?"

"It's amazing, Eliza!" Nick's breathing was hard. Intellectually, he knew it was simulated. But it felt so right. As if he was running a marathon. "I didn't know it would be like this. Come on. Try to keep up."

"I normally don't chase tails," Eliza remarked. Then added dryly: "I guess I can make an exception for you."

For a moment, Nick was stunned. Was Eliza flirting? They never had crossed that boundary before. Always keeping it professional despite the mutual attraction. Then again, Nick remembered the kiss Eliza had planted on him. This distraction proved to be a mistake as he not only braked too late, but he spied Eliza sliding past him. Flying a tighter curve than him and managing to hit the buoy's radius.

"Come on, slow poke!" Her laughter was magnificent. "Keep up, will you?"

"Just you wait!" Nick promised, but couldn't suppress a wild grin.

"Waiting? I am not making it that easy for you!"

By the tenth and last buoy, neither had won first place. Not that Nick minded. He had beaten Eliza to second place by a tail length. Giving him the opportunity to tease her while they waited for the rest of the swarm to arrive. Five minutes after they had arrived, Brooke managed to catch up without much effort. While she must have been flown pretty fast, her approach looked almost leisurely.

"The first three. Congratulations." Brooke's words might have sounded sincere if it wasn't for the smirk on her face. "But always be reminded that going fast comes with the price of heightened energy consumption. I bet you are feeling it now."

Indeed, Nick felt exhaustion nip at him. Not the "I want to fall into the bed" kind of tiredness. More like the fatigue that hit after a good long run. He could see it on Eliza too. It felt natural too. For a moment, he had forgotten that technically his new mermaid body was just a machine. The tech-wizs at Nixen really had outdone themselves.

"Alright. Time to top you up."

So far, Nick had done his best to ignore the fact that they were all naked. But now, it was hard to do so. The mermaid that had won didn't even blink, before swimming up close to Brooke. Nick's jaw fell open as the mermaid latched onto one of Brooke's nipples and started to suck. Clinging to a breast that was larger than her torso.

"Eliza? Nick? I have another one that is free."

"That-" Nick futilely pointed at Brooke and the mermaid she was nursing. "Who the hell came up with that idea?"

"It's no big deal," Brooke assured them with a casual shrug. "Nixen developed a liquid polymer that is amazing at trapping and releasing free electrons without loss. But there was the question of how to transfer it. This appeared to be the best option to conform to mimicking biology and stay on theme for mermaids."

"No big deal?" Nick echoed. Concern tingling his voice. "There's got to be alternatives. Induction while holding hands. Exchange with those fish drones. A gosh-darn jumper cable."

There was laughter from Eliza behind him. Nick ignored it. Brooke remained calm as she squashed his arguments one by one. "Induction has a loss ratio that is less than ideal. Especially for the amount we have to transfer. Drones can transfer energy, but they take up a lot of material. You have to work up to that. And jumper cables might be nice, but they aren't meshing with the mermaid biology. We don't wanna be plain robots, right? That's the whole point of Nixen."

"I mean, I see some logic there. But still-"

Nick broke off as Eliza drifted over to Brooke. She gave him an apoplectic shrug. "It's a surprise, sure. But not that bad. It's only sexual if you make it so."

Nick wasn't convinced. "And there are no alternatives?"

"Well, your fins are actually not for navigating in the Substrata, but robust and flexible solar cells. Slowly recharging you." Then Brooke shrugged. "For someone your size, they at best supplement your power consumption. Later, you will be able to grow plants on asteroids that gather energy for you. Or you can grow out your fins like I did until you are self-sufficient. Both require more mass. Not an option for now as you need a lot of energy for the next few days in our training phase."

Nick needed a while to stomach the thought. To be nursed by another woman. He was an adult. This simply felt wrong. More mermaids arrived one by one. A few were hesitant, but they had known in advance of this little detail.

At last, only Nick remained. Eliza drifted over and tried a last time to convince him. "So, I talked to the others. We'll be calling it a night. That means everyone goes to their private virtual reality for the evening. Yes, we can share one if we have contact. But virtual reality needs a lot of processing power. In other words, energy. So you better top up. Because we need some privacy, don't you think?"

Nick took a deep breath of fake simulated air. Then gave a resigned sigh. "It's only sexual if I make it that, right?"

"You got it," Eliza assured him and then gave him a gentle push towards Brooke.

To say the situation was awkward was an understatement. The deed itself wasn't as bad as he had feared. But as he was the last mermaid to nurse and now everyone was watching. Well aware that he had expressed concerns. Once finished, Nick avoided eye contact with all while returning to Eliza. There was a blush on his face. Did the designers really have to add this feature to their robotic bodies too? It only made him feel more exposed.

Coming to a relative stop, Eliza and Nick held hands before they activated their virtual reality. The transition was very smooth. The inky blackness of space gave way to a milky white that solidified to walls. At the same time, Eliza faded out. Both things Nick noticed, but his mind was preoccupied with his body. Fluidly, his mermaid tail shrank, split, and formed into legs. His chest lost its female curves and broadened to his usual body. He reasoned the same would be true for his face. All in all, the transition took about a minute. Leaving him once again in a human body. Of course, only in virtual reality. Outside, he was still a mermaid.

He found himself alone in a white room of maybe twenty-five square meters. It definitely needed decorating. But before he got to it, a beeping alerted him that Eliza wanted to merge their spaces. Of course, Nick accepted. One wall vanished and revealed an exact copy of his room. And Eliza in a rather provocative dress.

"I like what you have done with the place," Eliza joked as she walked over. "But perhaps we need one or two pieces of furniture."

Nick shrugged. "Sure. Beats talking while sitting on the floor. Do you want to do the honors?"

Eliza nodded. Quickly opening up a menu and browsing through it. Nick expected a couch or some chairs. Instead, a large bed appeared. One Eliza pushed him onto.

"Talking can wait."

A moment later, Nick wholeheartedly agreed.

---

Chapter 3 - 1 day in space

---

Nick woke the next morning to a slight beeping sound. It left him disoriented. Where was he? Then he noticed the body of Eliza spooning next to him. Right. This was virtual reality and they were in space. As mermaids. He had lived through the first day as such and still had trouble believing it.

Extracting himself from Eliza, Nick made his way to one of the white walls that had a small panel with blinking lights. One message was by Brooke. Giving them notice that the next training day would start in one and a half hours. The other was by a man named Otto.

"Greetings Mister Cole." Blue eyes stared at Nick. Otto was looking rather frumpy with blond hair and a wide face. "My name is Otto and I am the technical adviser for Brooke's pod. You won't find me as one of the mermaids. Rather my neural pattern is tucked away by Brooke and is only started up when needed. If you have any questions regarding your new body, you can direct them to Brooke and I will answer them the next time I wake up in virtual. But for now, let's start with the basics that you and Miss Mckenzie missed. First, you might want to customize your mermaid body's colors."

Nick paused the video message to gently wake up Eliza. She probably needed to hear this too. Chances were she had a similar message waiting for her, but he reasoned they might as well watch it together. While they both watched, Eliza and Nick enjoyed a big breakfast. Not that they needed to eat. It was virtual after all. But they now had the chance to try delicacies they would never be able to afford previously on Earth.

"Really? All Blue? Let me-"

Apparently, Nick's taste in colors was a bit lackluster. After a bit of prodding by Eliza, he left his choice of colors to her. The end result was a silvery teal for him with purple and ruby red accents. Nick wasn't completely sold on it but doubted he could do better. Eliza chose a silver pink for her tail with orange and yellow accents. He had to admit, it suited her. Once their selection was fixed, it was time to get on with the program. Brooke was waiting.

The next three days pass in a blur. Rather than just race around, Nick and his fellow mermaids trained in flying formation and they tried to be economical about it. Space is vast, as Nick started to realize all over again. Running out of juice might have him drift off not just by hundreds of kilometers, but astronomical units. Of course, after each day they had to top up by drinking Brooke's milk. A happenstance Nick still wasn't happy about, but begrudgingly he made his peace with it. And in the evening, Eliza made sure they tested out how robust virtual reality was.

Of course, not everything was work and play. "Is it true?" one mermaid asked while they flew a stretch of space in formation. "Rumor is that you were a man."

"Still am," Nick admitted while being flustered. Did the makers of their mermaid bodies really have to add the ability to blush? "At least in virtual reality."

"I thought they only recruited women. How did you get into the program?"

"He came with me," Eliza drifted over.

"The only tail around to chase and he is taken," another mermaid complained.

"That's right!" Eliza hugged him tightly. "He's mine."

Nick felt oddly proud to be claimed by Eliza like that. As if he was a treasure Eliza had found and now cherishes. "Well, there is Otto," he volunteered to mollify the mermaid.

"The advisor?" The mermaid shook her head. "Rumor is Brooke is rather protective of him if you get my drift. Who knows how often she consults him for 'technical expertise' late at night."

"Well, if you want to chase tail." Eliza had a mischievous grin on her lips. "Every mermaid here has one."

The mermaid rolled her eyes. "Very funny." Then took her leave as she knew she was on lost ground. The other mermaids scattered shortly after and they resumed flying in formation.

"Eliza. Nick. You are with me." The mermaid in question was Sidney. A volunteer from Australia. She was their group leader and the first point she made was that she was very aware that her parents were not very creative when naming her. She collected five other mermaids before continuing. "Alright. This is it. We will start our journey to asteroid X9221-A in a moment. If you haven't topped up your energy with Brooke, do so now. There won't be a chance for the next few days. Once there, we will prepare the asteroid for mining and do the first dig. Any questions?"

Of course, there were none. By now, they had rehashed the plan a few times. Three groups will venture forth to different asteroids. Leaving Brooke behind. Until they returned, they had to make do with the energy they got. Sadly, it meant Eliza and Nick would have to ration their time in virtual reality. The trip of four days will go by faster than that. Once accelerated to cruising speed, the mermaids will reduce the processing speed of their neural networks so that the passing time feels barely like more than half a day. Then, they had to decelerate and catch up to the asteroid. Once there they had to prepare it. Which would be the trickiest part.

But until then, Nick and Eliza flew through the vastness of space hand in hand.

---

Chapter 4 - 8 days in space

---

It was a strange feeling to produce drones. Nick had witnessed Brooke building some. Or rather, grow. But it was different to experience it himself. It started with small fins on his tail. They started to protrude outward as small bodies formed. At last, a fishlike head formed and the drones separated from Nick. Each drone was about a meter in length and looked like a miniature swordfish. Having a long serrated spear-like nose. It would help anchor them to the asteroid.

X9221-A, their target, floated barely two hundred meters before them. The asteroid wasn't very large. Nick's HUD supplied measurements. Nearly six hundred meters at the widest part and just shy of four hundred at the narrowest. It reminded Nick of a giant potato. X9221-A was slowly tumbling through space. Rotating by a mere three degrees per second. Still enough to flatten a mermaid who came too close.

Colorful markers appeared on the asteroid. Placed by Sidney. The group leader had more extensive training and knew how to tackle this hunk of rock. "Anne. You first." The mermaid chosen by Sidney drifted closer to the asteroid with her four drones in tow. It took a moment of patience and then her drones darted forward. Impacting the asteroid. Built sturdy enough, they survived the crash and anchored themselves against the regolith. Then used their tiny tails to offset the huge rotational momentum of the asteroid.

Nick and his swarm were sixth in the line-up. By now, the first two swarms of drones had spent their energy and X9221-A had bled off over half its momentum. Sidney adjusted the target points for Nick's drones again and again before giving him the okay to proceed. He had practiced a few times in virtual reality to nail drone placement, but the actual task was a little more nerve-wracking. Still, all of his drones landed within a meter of the target. Well within tolerance.

After four hours and all of their drones spent, X9221-A came to a rest. Having bled off all its rotary momentum. Now it was safe for them to approach. The first task was that each Mermaid retrieved their drones. Technically, they could just reabsorb them, but as Nick found out, they smelled too good for that. They all opted to eat the drones as a means to recycle them.

Nick had to admit, it was a bit strange to smell in space. Of course, there was a reason. Mermaids flourished by mining asteroids. To that end, they had sensors to detect metal within the regolith. Having the result as an overlay in their HUD could prove to be distracting at the wrong moment. Instead, the engineers of Nixen had the idea to couple the sensory information for mermaids with the sense of smell. Giving them a hint about where to dig. It also means that already processed metal in the form of spent drones smelled very appetizing. And just like the shell they hatched out of, the blend of metals was delicious.

"Alright. We stabilized X9221-A," Sidney proclaimed after their meal. "I am officially opening the asteroid up for mining. To each mermaid their own, but remember to keep civil."

This was it. Nick and Eliza's chance to strike gold. Or other valuable metals. Dig. Eat. Grow. All the materials they accumulated were used to grow their body size. At the end of their turn, the mermaid’s body would be broken down into compound metals and sold off. Making them all rich. Of course, their future wealth depended on how good they were at mining. Making for a competitive atmosphere between the mermaids. Not that Eliza and Nick cared. Together they looked for a spot to start their dig.

"These look wicked!" Eliza looked mesmerized at her claws and Nick had to agree.

In order to dig, they could shift their fingers to claws. They looked sharp and hopefully were a good tool for digging. Still, Nick had his doubts. "I so hope I don't get an itchy nose."

"Stop it!" Eliza swatted at him with the back of her hand. Giggling slightly. "Now I kind of feel like I have to scratch."

Together, they started to dig a tunnel. It was surprisingly messy. While most of the regolith could be extracted as chunks, there was a lot of dust too. It was sticky too and clung to their form. Muting the colors Eliza had chosen for them. There was a system to dispel static charge and get rid of the dust, but it needed energy. Making Eliza and Nick only use it when the dust got too much.

"Do you smell that?" Nick asked after an hour and a half.

Eliza stopped and gave it a sniff. "Smells like chocolate." A few more sniffs gave her a sense of direction. "About there. What do you think it is?"

"Only one way to find out," Nick said while shrugging. Then, he adjusted the direction of her tunnel by a few degrees and kept digging.

An hour later, they had their answer as they hit a copper vein. Of course, it tasted like chocolate too. At first, there were only traces, but soon they ate chunks of it.

"Let's start a new mine," Nick suggested while they had an impromptu picnic. Devouring a few chunks at the entrance of their mine. "We can't just grow on copper."

"Iron would be good. And any noble metals." Eliza took a few bites and looked deep in thought. "Having a mine for each mermaid for each metal would be very ineffective. We should catch up with the others later. Maybe we can do some trade."

Nick gave it some thought. "How about you try to sniff out a new mine and I'll dig up a few big chunks of copper as party favors?"

Their tasks set, they got to work. By the time they were done for the day, Nick had gotten out a few big chunks of copper. Eliza hadn't found a good spot for metal, but she had sniffed out a potential spot for silicates. That was a big find for Nick.

"We need silicates for our fins," he explained when Eliza was dismissive of the find. "The bigger our fins, the more solar energy we can gather. Making us less dependent on Brooke. It's also necessary if we want to get mining plants running in the future."

Eliza shook her head. "There ain't sunshine in the tunnel of our mine. Besides, if you have big fins, you'll have trouble getting into tunnels. And before we can get started on mining plants, we need a whole bunch of noble or rare metals. What's this about? Still hung up about needing milk from Brooke? I thought you got used to it."

Nick winced slightly. "I did. It is just, it's not my favorite aspect of all of this. But there is another reason we might want to dabble with silicates early."

That got Eliza's attention. "Which is?"

Nick couldn't help but give a small smirk. "More spare energy for VR."

"Hmm." Eliza pretended to think about it for a second. "I guess we could dip into the silicates a little."

A few hours later, all the mermaids gathered in a spot as if they had agreed upon beforehand. A few even brought samples of their mines, just like Nick and Eliza did. A few had found iron. It was curious that they didn't taste the same. Depending on the blend with other minerals, their flavor was slightly different. The mermaid Jia from China had struck gold. Literally, as she produced quite a few nuggets of the precious metals. Apparently, the noble metal was more abundant in space than on Earth as Jin said she had found a huge vein.

"So, Nick." Sydney took a moment of quiet to swim close to Nick. "Have you found a name yet? Surely you must have given it some thought."

Nick scratched his head. "What do you mean? A name? For what?"

He noticed a barely suppressed rolling of her eyes. "For your mermaid self." Sydney inched closer. "You know the maid in mermaid stands for Maiden, right?"

Nick looked at her skeptically. "Is that really necessary? I am still a guy."

"In VR, sure," Eliza came to his rescue. Just to plunge a knife into his back a moment later. "But not out here. She has a point."

"How about Nikki? That's close to your human name," Sydney suggested. She wasn't the only one who took the opportunity.

"Nicole could work too." "How about Nika or Nikita?"

"Uh, I like Nikita!" Eliza decided. Getting a look of betrayal from Nick.

"None of those," Nick decided. "Just Nick is fine. Pretend I am a tomboy mermaid."

Eliza put her hands on Nick's shoulders. "Give her time. She just needs to hear the right name and then it will come naturally."

"I wouldn't count on it." Nick crossed his arms. Others might have sworn to see a pout too. And despite his claim that Nick was fine as a name for a tomboy mermaid, he got plenty of suggestions until Eliza and he retired for the night.

---

Chapter 5 - 41 days in space

---

"You eat all the time and still, you are only fins and bones."

Nick gave a deadpan look at Eliza's joke. Yes, he focused a little more on growing his tail and the fins. The latter would provide him with more passive energy regeneration and the longer tail helped to store whatever he accumulated.

Of course, as a consequence, his torso hadn't grown much larger. Which resulted in Eliza becoming slightly larger than him. As long as one discounted the tail. Just like all the other mermaids she concentrated on the even growths of all parts. Resulting in larger arms and claws. Making digging easier. Nick couldn't help but feel like he was falling behind a little. Despite knowing that this wasn't a race. He could grow his mermaid body at his own pace. Granted, the payout at the end of their mermaid tour depended on the size he would achieve. Still, Nick didn't regret his decision. So far.

"I'll have you know I have a completely healthy amount of body fat. Body metal? I am just tall. Well, long." Swimming lazily through space, Nick scooped up a chunk of Palladium he had traded for. "Besides, what's the rush?"

"We are getting ready for the trip to Brooke." Eliza put her hand on her hips. "Come on, Ninita. The others are waiting."

Nick gave her a suffering look. A new nickname by Eliza. First, it was Kita. Short for Nikita. Then Nina. Now she appeared to have smashed both together.

"Have fun." Nick couldn't help but give a mischievous grin. "I am not going."

"What do you mean you aren't coming?" Eliza eyed him skeptically. "Don't tell me you still aren't over the nursing thing."

Nick shrugged. “It's a huge waste of time, you know? We have made the trip three times already. Eight days for a round trip just to top up energy. Twenty-four days were lost due to travel. Well, I crunched the numbers. If I stay here, with my passive energy accumulation, I have one more day of digging. Helping me catch up to you all. Besides, you have to trade for the milk with resources. I can hoard mine. Overall, I am coming off way better.”

Eliza nodded along, but her pout grew with each sentence. “Except, we won't see each other for eight days.”

She got him there. Surely, Nick would miss her, but he was prepared for the argument. “Subjectively, it will be more like two days for each of us. You'll skip most of the travel time by down-clocking. Same for me while I nap and accumulate energy.”

Playfully, she cuffed him against the arm. “You thought of everything, have you?” She sighed as Nick nodded. But when she looked up at him, he knew she had just thought of something. “So, it takes you four days to accumulate a full charge?”

“Three and a half,” Nick corrected. “Leaving me one day for mining.”

Their minds were currently digitally simulated neurons, but Nick could swear he could see Eliza's mental gears spin. “So, if we combine that with my passive regeneration, we could gather a whole charge for one mermaid in about two and a half days. Giving us three mining days for one mermaid and a little extra energy.”

“I think your math is a little off,” Nick pointed out. “Even if it is two and a half, I won't collect as much energy while digging. If we share the energy it will last us half a day. So, we have a full digging day each after six days. There won't be enough time to gather energy for a third rotation.”

Eliza looked at him deadpan as if he had said something stupid. After a moment, she clued him in. “If you concentrate on gathering energy full time we can stack it three times. All the mining will be done by me. So, you can laze around if you want and I do the hard part.”

“We do share fifty-fifty, right?” If so, Nick would make half again what he would do alone and Eliza would benefit too. Not to mention that they wouldn't have to split. “I think it's a deal.”

She nodded enthusiastically while swimming away. “I tell the others we stay here. Don't go anywhere. I can't wait to find out if your milk tastes different than Brooke's.”

Nick barely suppressed a groan. He should have known there would be a drawback. Finally, he could avoid nursing from Brooke, but now he had unwittingly agreed to nurse Eliza. What a mess. “It is only sexual if you make it,” he reminded himself. Repeating the mantra a few times. Maybe if he said it enough times, he believed it.

---

Chapter 6 - 71 days in space

---

Just like nursing from Brooke, nursing Eliza wasn't as bad as he had feared. It was just that there were a lot of social conventions surrounding the topic that Nick had a hard time shaking off. By now, it was a daily occurrence and slowly, he got used to it. Since their first stint at X9221-A alone, both had focused on resources that would expand Nick's energy production. Now, three weeks later, he had enough for the both of them and a little over. The problem now was that his fins were too big and unwieldy to still go digging. Leaving most of the digging to Eliza.

“Hey, Jia,” Nick greeted the Chinese mermaid as she swam over. Pushing a big chunk of platinum before her. “Don't tell me you want to carry that to Brooke. It might slow you down a lot.”

“It is not for Brooke,” the petite mermaid corrected him. Like Nick, Jia had a proportionally longer tail than most mermaids. Minus the big fins he had. Jia hadn't mentioned it, but Nick assumed it was part of her heritage that made her choose this form. It resembled a little the dragons of Chinese mythology. “I came here to trade.”

Offering material for access to a mineshaft of another mermaid wasn't uncommon. It was the way they ensured a balanced diet for a space mermaid. Though Jia had brought more than usual.

“You brought enough to rent our mineshaft for days. We will save you some space once you get back.”

“What if I am not going?” Jia swam a little closer. Not that it mattered. Technically they talked via radio waves and they could be kilometers apart and understand each other just fine. “I know you and Eliza are a couple, but I have to know. Is that deal you have exclusive?”

Nick's eyes went wide. “Are you talking about buying my energy?”

“I mean, yeah.” Jia appeared a bit unsure herself but pushed forth nonetheless. “It's got to be more efficient than swimming all the way to Brooke. And it isn't much different if I buy milk from you or her. Same difference, right?”

“Give me a moment to think about it.” But instead of doing so, Nick called Eliza on a private channel and explained the situation.

“I don't think there is a problem with that,” Eliza remarked after a short moment of contemplation. “Provided you are game. You already produce more than enough for the both of us. Shouldn't be hard to cut Jia in.”

“And you really don't mind? I mean, if I share with Jia, I could cut my take from fifty percent down to say forty. But sharing is kinda intimate.”

Nick could practically hear Eliza roll her eyes. “You have to remember that we are mermaids now. There are other social norms we abide by. You have to get over your hesitation. Always remember-”

“It's only sexual if I make it so,” Nick intoned the mantra before Eliza could. “Alright. I'll cut Jia in. But you better bring some silicates for me. Somehow I doubt the others will hold out on this too long.” After Eliza sent him a quick affirmation, Nick turned back to Jia. “Alright. I am game. Let's talk exchange rates.”

Nick couldn't quite match the prices Brooke demanded for her milk, but that was okay. He called the little bit extra a convenience fee. Jia would still come out ahead. And any other mermaid who was up for it. And with rising production of energy, he could lower his prices even more. Cutting out Brooke completely. Hopefully, she wouldn't mind.

---

Chapter 7 - 104 days in space

---

“Good morning, sleepy head.”

Nick rose slowly and stretched. Finding a skimpingly dressed Eliza beside him in the large overgrown bed he shared with her in virtual reality.

“Not really morning,” Nick corrected her. “How was your workday?”

By now, all but two mermaids of their group frequented Nick for his milk. As they only needed to refill every so often, Nick had a lot of free time to laze around in virtual or nap. Of course, Eliza had permission to join his virtual space any time she liked.

“Same old. Same old. Lots of rock.” Something was wrong. Eliza had some mischief in her voice, but Nick failed to notice why. “What's new with you, Ninita?”

That nickname again. Nick ignored it for now. “I was watching the news and-” Now that he pointed at the muted screen with the broadcast, Nick noticed why Eliza was amused. “I can explain.”

“Why you are a woman even in virtual reality?” She leaned back with a wide grin. “By all means, I am all ears.”

“I just forgot to switch to a male body.” Nick tried to sound nonchalant. “It happens. I must have dozed off while watching the news.”

Eliza nodded along, but her mirth didn't diminish one bit. “Except you automatically transition from mermaid to man when entering virtual reality.”

“Well-” Bick knew she got him there. “I should have told you. It's nothing really. The transition is just a bit jarring and too much at once. Especially now since I have spent a lot of time as a mermaid. So, I switched it to a female body. Not for long. Half an hour to acclimate. Then I usually switch to my normal male body. In fact, it is time I-”

“Hold on!” Eliza interrupted and even went so far as to topple Nick to pin him under her. “I didn't even get a close look at human Ninita. I wanna see.”

“Fine.” The one word was followed by a sigh. “Just keep this between us, alright. The others don't need to know.”

“I think the others would be fine if you explored your feminine side a little bit more. So would I.” She leaned down to plant a kiss on Nick's lip. Then, she didn't stand up but started to whisper in his ear. “You know how we always say it isn't sexual when you nurse us? Wanna find out the difference if I do make it sexual?”

Nick was stunned. Not just by the offer itself. He hadn't known that Eliza was into women too. And he thought he knew her pretty well. But the hungry look in her eyes spoke volumes. Not trusting his own voice, Nick nodded.

“Good girl,” Eliza purred. Going right to work.

Except that Nick saw something flash in the periphery of his vision. “Hold on. What's that?”

Eliza was about to protest but then saw what had caught Nick's attention. The muted broadcast showed a news anchor frantically reading his lines. In the background, a burning building could be seen. Not for long as it switched to a clip of another building just as an explosion ruptured the facade. Pictures and clips kept coming. Never showing a building twice. By the time they had shown a dozen, Nick turned up the volume.

“- widespread attacks of foreign and domestic targets.” The news anchor wiped sweat from his forehead. He looked pale. “We are now getting an official statement from the New Dawn Revelation organization.” The news anchor scanned the document. Not reading it aloud but the emotion of disgust clear on his face. “What a joke. The leadership of the NDR blames radicalized splinter groups. Officially disavowing involvement. Over fifty locations were attacked. That can't be-”

“Remember the day that -” It was clear to Nick that she meant the fateful day they gave their lives away to save others. “That was New Dawn Revelation too, wasn't it?”

“Suspected,” Nick corrected softly. “It was their M.O., but to strike at this scale? I hadn't thought they were big enough.”

“We are now switching to Connor Lanks. A professor of social studies who had studied the New Dawn Revelation movement for the last few years.” The burning buildings made way for an older gentleman. “Thank you professor Lanks for speaking with us. As a foremost expert on the topic can you answer us one crucial question: was this attack predictable?”

“It was and we did.” The professor looked grim. Guilt and shame were evident. “We underestimated the scope. Working with the authorities we not only saw the attacks coming but actively raided and arrested a few cells. What we didn't even fathom was the scale of the attack.”

“As hard as it may sound to believe, you are saying it could have been worse,” the newscaster summarized. “For those unfamiliar with the New Dawn Revelation movement, can you tell us who they are and what their goals are?”

The professor straightened up. Clearly, this was more his environment as he prepared for a small lecture. “The NDR started as an offshoot of Christianity and incorporated a few beliefs from other religions. Their main tenet is that we ruined Earth - likened to Garden Eden - by overpopulation and developing advanced technologies. Their goal is nothing of near genocide of the human race. Bringing them down from twenty billion to around one hundred million. By any means necessary.“

“You said they blame advanced technologies,” the newscaster brought up, while new pictures of attack sites were shown. Many of those industrial complexes. “Is this why they targeted key infrastructure nodes and big industrial sites?”

Professor Lanks nodded gravely. “In their minds, we must return to a pre-industrial revolution society. They target infrastructure to cause large-scale humanitarian cri-”

“We just got news of a new wave of attacks,” the newscaster interrupted. “It appears they have- Oh my God.” He looked ill and if he had to force himself to continue. “We just received confirmation that the whole subcontinent of India has gone dark.”

The screen switched to a satellite image from above Earth. It was nighttime in Europe, Africa, and Asia. Human civilization could be seen by the many dots of lights that indicated cities and towns. Except India and the surrounding countries. The utter darkness here was a stark contrast.

“There are over six billion people there.” The murmur of the newscaster probably wasn't even meant for the audience. “Without energy they all-”

The newscast abruptly cut off. Leaving Nick and Eliza stunned in silence. She squeezed his hands in a quiet moment of solidarity. It only took a few commands to the computer to find out that further damage to Earth's infrastructure had been done. A good third of the satellites had malfunctioned and plunged into the atmosphere. Crippling communication. Nick sent out a ping to Nixen on instinct, but a round-trip would take minutes to get back to them. For now, they were in the dark.

“What can make people do something like that?” Eliza's question wasn't directed at anyone. “This is madness. Just how many people will die? And for what?”

“My mother joined them. A few years ago.” Shame filled Nick. Even by association. He wanted to be as distant from those abhorrent actions as possible, but there was a tin connection. “It caused a big fight between us. Haven't spoken to her since. Don't even know if she is still-”

Eliza drew him into a hug. It was all she needed to do to show that she was there for him. Probably needing it too. Dark days lay ahead for mankind. If anything this event had made that fact clear.

After a while, Eliza rewound the broadcast. Not all the way. It was in the middle of the interview with Professor Lanks that she paused the replay. The building of Santos Mercantile Mining was shown. Black billowing smoke rose into the sky. It took Nick a moment to figure out why Eliza had paused at this moment. It wasn't that Santos Mercantile Mining was a space mining operation. One that used old tech with trapped people in tin cans and high suicide rates. In the background, some distance away, and half covered by smoke, another building stood. It didn't appear damaged. What stood out was the company flag of Nixen Luft- und Raumfahrt GmbH.

Eliza was quiet and somber as she spoke. “If this goes on, we might not be able to return home.”

Nick nodded. “We might not even want to.”

Space was their home for now. They had made their peace with it. But now, both were confronted that it might take them longer to get home. Or that they never would.

---

Chapter 8 - 166 days in space

---

The next two months were depressing times. It had taken four days to reestablish communication with Nixen. The wave of attacks was cut off. Most countries declared martial law to get a hold of the situation. But the news kept coming. The damage to the infrastructure was just too great and many regions declared a humanitarian crisis. At the forefront India and the surrounding countries. Whatever help they got, it was too little.

There was a feeling of guilt for Nick and Eliza. They were safe up in space. Away from danger. Without immediate fear for their own lives. A feeling they shared with every other mermaid around them. The only means they got to help was to mine further. Instead of hoarding all the minerals they mined, Nick was sending a lot of them on. So did the others. It wouldn't help right now, but they hoped it would support the rebuilding effort that Earth needed.

The need to mine as fast as they could also had the unintended side-effect that all mermaids in their group now preferred getting energy from Nick, rather than Brooke, who was still days of travel away. Or so they thought, as a soft chime woke Nick and Eliza.

“Didn't you fill everyone up, Ninita?” Eliza asked, bleary-eyed. The virtual reality was good enough to give her tousled hair from sleeping. Or was it from last evening's activities.?

The use of the female nickname reminded Nick. A quick check confirmed it. Yes, he was currently in his female form. Or rather, she was. By now, half of her time in virtual, she was Ninita. The other half, she was good old Nick. Somehow, she had the sneaking feeling that Eliza wouldn't mind if the percentage shifted more towards Ninita's advantage.

“Uh, oh.” Ninita winced as she saw who had knocked on their door. “It's Brooke asking to join our virtual session.”

Eliza's laugh might have annoyed Ninita if it didn't have a heavenly feel to her. “Someone is in trouble. Maybe she is pissed that you stole all her customers.” Eliza slipped out of their bed and with a few quick commands made herself presentable. Gone was the bed hair and nightgown. They were replaced by a complicated hairstyle with many braids and a stylish dress.

“Not all,” Ninita murmured as she slipped out of the bed. She already missed its warmth and the body heat from Eliza. Knowing full well that both were simulated, but easily forgotten in the moment. “She has two other groups, right? I didn't pilfer those.” Ninita got dressed too, but her clothing style hadn't evolved much. Jeans and a T-shirt. Just what Nick would have worn. Except that she had to make concessions to the female body and wore a bra and panties.

By now, Ninita had enough juice to simulate more than one room. The living room they walked into had been designed by both of them. The process had been easy. Nick suggested something and was promptly shot down by Eliza. Who then presented an alternative. Granted, those were usually better. Overall, Nick had maybe contributed twenty percent to the room. Now slightly expanded as Ninita snuck here and there little changes in. Either Eliza hadn't noticed or she agreed with them.

Inviting Brooke in was as easy as opening the front door and letting her in. Except they got a little surprise as the technician Otto walked in after her.

“I must be in big trouble,” Ninita remarked after the general pleasantries had been concluded. “Brooke brought back-up.”

Otto gave a few amused nods. “I am actually here as legal representation of Nixen, rather than as a technician. But don't worry. You are not in trouble. One might say we are here to talk you into some.” The German accent was slightly more pronounced than that of the mermaid Anne, but he was still easily understood and fluent.

“I am actually here more as a witness,” Brooke volunteered. “Provided we come to an agreement.”

“So, I am not in trouble for poaching your clients?” Ninita still had her doubts but was willing to listen. “What is this all about then?”

“It actually is about you poaching her mermaids.” Otto gave a short chuckle but continued before Ninita could worry too much. “Nixen wants as much of being a mermaid to be natural. That includes social dynamics. Brooke was positioned precisely and intentionally at a point that required extended travel times for all three of her groups. The goal was to naturally see who fills the spot for each group.”

“Nixen was actually surprised that it was you.” Brooke leaned slightly forward. “No offense, but they had doubts about a man adjusting to be a woman and mermaid in the first place. It couldn't have been easy for you. But here you are. A woman in virtual and you've taken on a female name.”

“I haven't exactly chosen the name for myself,” Ninita said to Brooke while giving Eliza a pointed dirty look. “I guess it makes sense to have a female name while I am out there as a mermaid. But in virtual I am only sometimes a woman.”

“Most of the time,” Eliza piped up.

“About half,” Ninita corrected before the perception of her was shifted too much.

Otto stepped in to cut this line of inquiry short. “Doesn't matter much as long as you are comfortable with it, right? And while it was unexpected that you stepped up as pod mother, it is still a pleasant surprise. You see, we need pod mothers. Now even more than before.”

Ninita took a moment to think it through. Once she had gathered her thoughts, she laid them all out. “I actually thought my time as an unofficial pod mother was coming to an end. We now have enough rare materials to start planting automated miners and energy infrastructure. Soon, the mermaids here won't be needing my energy.” Ninita fell silent for a moment and then gave herself a nod. “You want me to oversee a new pod. Probably with newcomer mermaids.”

“Very perceptive of you.” Clearly, Otto looked pleased that Ninita had arrived at this conclusion. “The term you have signed on with is only half done, but we would like to negotiate an extension with the shift of responsibilities to being a pod mother. You probably follow the troubling news from Earth. The recent attack by the New Dawn Revelation movement has a lot of people scared. Sadly, the sentiment that technology will be the downfall of mankind is growing. But the opposite is also true. More people look to companies like Nixen to find salvation for mankind. Among them, many are leaders of countries. Nixen had a recent influx of financial subsidies with the added responsibility to speed up and expand the growth of mermaid numbers.”

Ninita reached over to take Eliza's hand. “We actually had talked about going the same route as Brooke did. Buy a license from Nixen to stay mermaids. Maybe working as independent contractors. Going back to Earth is not very appealing at the moment.”

Eliza gave a squeeze and took over. Probably to show that they were on the same page on this. “If things deteriorate further, all the wealth we could accumulate for ourselves wouldn't mean much. Things will probably get worse on Earth before they get better. And up here we can live comfortably. In virtual we can live just as good or even better than on the surface.”

“What about Eliza?” Ninita asked and drew not just looks from Otto and Brooke, but also from her girlfriend. “Will Nixen mind if she hangs around while I play pod mother? Maybe she can help me a bit shepard the newcomers.”

“Or she can become a pod mother too,” Brooke suggested. “From my pod, three potential pod mothers emerged. One enterprising mermaid in group one followed your example. Group three took a bit longer. They actually voted on who of them would take over the role of pod mother. And, of course, we have you. The expected growth rate Nixen aimed for.”

“Except now, things have changed,” Otto reminded them. “With the new expansion goals, I wouldn't be surprised if half of Brooke's pod got the offer to become pod mothers themselves. If Brooke and I suggest Eliza, Nixen will be sure to offer her a pod mother position. And yes, we checked beforehand. There are spots that require two pod mothers in close proximity. So, you both wouldn't be separated by duty either.”

Eliza gave a soft chuckle that turned into one of her brilliant laughs. “There goes our planned tour of the solar system. But I must say, I am intrigued. And we would help both, Nixen and Earth.”

Ninita lifted Eliza's hand to her lips for a quick kiss. “It's not canceled. Just postponed. I promise.”

Over the next half hour, the four of them hammered out the details. Eliza and Ninita would become independent contractors for Nixen. To be hired as pod mothers. The contracts they signed stipulated that they would remain in close proximity to each other.

“You know-” Brooke started as they were about to say their goodbyes. “Now that you are independent and pod mothers you will have some pull within Nixen. If you are willing to spend the money, you can nominate a few people to become mermaids. With priority recruitment. They would be independent too or contracted to you. Depending on what you negotiate. Just something to keep in mind.”

Once alone, there was an awkward silence between them. Both were a bit lost in thought. It was Eliza who spoke up first. “I am trying to think of someone, but I am coming up short. Most people I knew on Earth were more like acquaintances than friends and those that I called my friends, I was never very tight with. What about you?”

Ninita shook her head. “Same. A few years ago, I might have said my mother. But now? She'll probably decline while cursing me out. Worse, she could say yes, just to sabotage us from the inside. I can't trust her. Not anymore.”

Eliza sighed and leaned against the wall. A defeatist look on her face. “Sometimes, I just wanna swim away. Earth is just a mess right now. It is hard to watch. To bear witness.”

“Then let's do that!” Ninita said with a cheerfulness she didn't really feel. “Do a term or two for Nixen and then just go. We could go anywhere. Maybe Alpha Centauri first? And then go onward.”

Eliza gave a short laugh. “Really? It would be quite the journey. Years of traveling. And we would be all alone.”

“Subjective, it wouldn't be that long,” Ninita pointed out. “The hard part would be to acquire the mass. We need sturdy bodies if we travel at relativistic speeds. All that cosmic dust. That's what got to the drones in the speed tests. And who knows? Maybe a few others will join us. We could bundle up in one body and spend the time in virtual. Of course, that's the second reason we need large bodies. To store enough energy. The further we are from the sun, the less energy we can gather.”

“You really gave it some thought, huh?” Now a faint smile appeared on Eliza. “We could be explorers. Trailblazers for mankind and mermaid-kind alike. I like that idea.”

“It's a goal,” Ninita insisted. “Something to work towards.”

Eliza nodded. “Let's.”

---

Chapter 9 - 2 years in space

---

As always, it was a feast. In exchange for nursing her pod and delivering energy, Ninita's mermaids paid with resource drones. Ninita could just absorb them, but there was no fun in it. Instead, she ate the drones. It was a culinary delight. The drones were pure usable materials. No impurities or regolith in them. Hence Ninita could enjoy them to the fullest. The makeup of each drone was different. Depending on what the mermaid who made them mined for resources. Resulting in an ever-changing experience.

“You've got to try this one.” Ninita held half the drone to Eliza who drifted parallel to her not three meters apart. At their size and scale, it was an intimate distance. Only half the body and the tail were left of the drone. As typical of Nixen, drones resembled fish. Ninita loved to munch on the head first. It usually contained the central processor of the drone and higher-end materials.

Eliza needed a moment to lean over and take a bite out of the offered morsel. At their size, the artificial muscles had trouble moving their mass. Resulting in slower movement overall. The purr of content satisfaction might have been simulated, but it got the point across.

“I love sushi evenings!” Eliza exclaimed before taking another bite. It had been a joke in the mermaid community for a while. The drones looked like fish and mermaids ate them without preparation. Hence they were “raw”. Resulting in borrowing the term sushi from earthen cuisine. However, some claimed the materials the drone consisted of were already processed. Hence “raw” was the wrong term. It caused a minor schism within mermaid-kind.

Ninita felt like celebrating too. They just had saved Earth. Not really. The asteroid H5529-6B would have missed Earth anyway. But the trajectory had been close enough to give a lot of people the scare of their lives and the gravitational pull might have caused minor disturbances on Earth. Hence Eliza's and Ninita's pods had been tasked with altering the path of H5529-6B. Now that they had accomplished their mission it was only natural that their pods raided the asteroid for all its worth.

On a whim, Ninita looked around. Then pointed to a tiny dot among the sea of stars. “Guess what I found.”

Eliza followed the indicated path and squinted her eyes. As large as they were, they acted as great telescopes. “Earth.” That one word hung in the vacuum of space between them. “That's the closest we have come to her in two years.”

Ninita nodded. It was funny how time flies. It was slightly over two years since Brooke and Otto had recruited them as pod mothers. These two pods that now swarmed H5529-6B were Eliza's and Ninita's fifth pod each. Mermaid-kind was growing. With now reaching towards three thousand souls in space.

Just as she was about to comment on it, an urgent alarm scattered Ninita's line of thought. The alarm belonged to a priority message from Nixen. That couldn't be a good sign. The last priority message had been four days after the fateful attack by the New Dawn Revelation movement when a good portion of Earth had been set ablaze. It had taken Nixen those four days to reestablish communication and the message had been one of reassurance. Nixen was fine.

Now, a new message awaited them. One addressed for Eliza's and Ninita's eyes only. A little worried, both switched to virtual. Of course, Ninita was a woman here too. The presence of her female self had steadily grown over the last two years. But now and then, she still returns to being Nick. Depending on her mood or even more the mood of Eliza. Just one look at her girlfriend and Ninita knew today was such a day. With a single thought, her body shifted to that of Nick. But even though she was male again, she didn't really feel like it. Nonetheless, it would do for now.

They didn't need words to coordinate. Making themselves comfortable on the couch and hugging. Bracing for whatever message awaited them. Ninita took Eliza's hand and waited for her to give the okay. A nod from her and Ninita started the message.

The woman appearing on the screen was a familiar one. Dressed in a business suit and looking somber. As always, the Mohawk in pastel blue, pink, and orange drew their eyes. It was in a style that modern youth called business casual punk. At least in Germany it was the latest rage in business circles. The presence of this woman underlined how important this message must be for she was Andrea Sacher. The CEO of Nixen. It was the first time that Eliza and Ninita were addressed by her directly.

“Hello, Eliza and Nick.” Andrea gave them a warm reassuring smile. “I thank you for diverting H5529-6B. This feat gave us some major brownie points with a lot of people. And the reward for a task well done is another one.”

The CEO made a few gestures and pictures appeared of a building partially built into a snow-covered mountain. “This is the global seed vault in Svalbard, Norway. For centuries, it served as a critical reserve and vault for seeds and genetic material in case a doomsday event happens and mankind needs to rebuild. In the wake of the NDR attack two years ago, concerns came up that this vault might not be safe enough from threats posed by humans in origin.”

The pictures changed. Now it showed an asteroid in various stages of change. “This is Ceres. Currently rebuilt by a fellow alumni of your pod, Jia. Sixteen months ago Nixen got the contract to build an extraterrestrial vault. A twin to the one in Svalbard. With the difference that the Ceres vault will be one hundred percent digital. The project was about to conclude in the next four months.”

For a moment, the facade of a successful CEO slipped as a heavy sigh escaped Andrea. She looked tired but hid her weakness a moment later. “The data core was to be brought up from Earth and assembled over the next three months. But rumors are afoot that the NDR is preparing for another wave of attacks. The scale is unknown, but we got intel that the seed vault in Svalbard is a target. If so, the Ceres copy might too. Nixen was given priority in all rocket starts to bring all of the core parts up as quickly as possible. By the time you get this message, only three remain.”

Andrea leaned forward and fixed Eliza and Ninita with a look that should be impossible with a recording. “I admit, you weren't part of this top-secret project, but the timeline was moved ahead and you are the closest two pods to Earth. As independent contractors, I can't order you to do this job. But I urge you to do so. Come to Earth with your pods as fast as you can, grab the core, and haul it safely to Ceres. Nixen will cover all the costs for you and your pods. Reimbursing your mermaids for the time missed mining and paying a bonus on top.”

Andrea fell silent and leaned back. Part of her intensity was gone and now she looked complatitive. Was she hunting for words or considering telling more? At last, she looked at the camera again. “Let me know if you decide to take this job. We all at Nixen are counting on you.”

The end of the message left Ninita stunned. Not so Eliza who jumped at the opportunity. “We have to do this, right? Not just for us, but for mankind. I heard that the vault in Norway doesn't just have samples of seeds from all over the world. They have genetic samples for a lot of animals too. Even extinct ones like humpback whales. This is important. We can't let it be destroyed by those fanatics.”

Ninita gave her girlfriend a level look. “I am not saying no. In fact, I agree. But it could be dangerous. I don't know how much reach the NDR has in space, but if they have, we might become a target too. Are you okay with that?”

Eliza paused but then made up her mind. “This is bigger than us.”

Ninita nodded. “Let's gather the pods. This isn't something we can drag them into, but let's lay it out and let each mermaid decide if they want to join us”

---

Chapter 10 - 2 years in space

---

It had been a race. A mad dash towards Earth. And now that they were leaving again, Ninita wondered if all her worries had been for nothing. They had arrived at the sight of four mermaids being busy sliding the last slice of the core together. The database of the new vault was huge. Eliza and Ninita measured close to seventy meters from head to tail. The core was about twenty-five in length. But it was wider than both pod mothers combined with fifteen meters in diameter. It had roughly the shape of a cylinder with tapered ends. Built from individual slices that reminded Ninita of an orange or lemon. Probably to get this immense mass into space in the first place. Thankfully both pods had agreed to help pull this thing.

It had been strange seeing Earth again. The cradle of mankind. Once, home to Ninita. Or rather Nick. He had a life there. One now appearing so distant. But since then, he has changed. Found his alter ego, Ninita. Or is Nick by now the alter ego of her? As they were leaving, Ninita got the feeling that this would be the last time she saw the blue planet. At least, for a while. They hadn't shared their plan yet, but Eliza and she had made the calculations for what they needed for a trip to Alpha Centauri. Maybe after this term, they would finally quit working for Nixen and start their journey.

Getting the core up to traveling speed was a slog. Even with two pod mothers and thirty-six mermaids pulling, the core was slow to speed up. It was no wonder Eliza got bored and curious. On their second day, she cuddled up to Ninita as they took a break from pulling. Soon, they would need to recharge the little mermaids and then tuck in for the night. A prospect Ninita looked forward to, but Eliza looked strangely worried.

“Have you looked at the content of the vault?” she asked Ninita over a private channel.

The question caught Ninita off guard. “Can we? I didn't know we were allowed.”

“It's read-only,” Eliza said while appearing casual, but Ninita spotted the signs of how tense she was. “You should take a look.”

Now a little worried, Ninita grabbed for the core. Touch was all that was needed to establish a connection. The contents unfolded in front of her. It wasn't hard to guess which folder belonged to the seed vault in Svalbard. Their folders were labeled in English and Norwegian. But the folders labeled in English and German surprised Ninita more. They outmassed the Svalbard folders by two to one. A quick check and Ninita was even more stumped as fourteen of the twenty core slices didn't belong to Svalbard at all, but Nixen.

Nixen had used the Svalbard copy as a means to smuggle massive amounts of data into space. That couldn't be all technological data. Eliza was right. This was worrying and a reason to dig deeper. What Ninita found were names. Thousands of them. Each named folder contained a neural upload and a genetic database.

“They smuggled people into space,” Ninita concluded on their private channel. “Thousands of them. No wonder this storage is this massive.”

“Over ten thousand,” Eliza whispered back. Not even acknowledging that their discussion couldn't be overheard. “I compared the list against the Nixen employee listing. Eighty-five percent of Nixen is uploaded in this data core. Even Andrea Sacher is on it. The CEO of Nixen. The rest? Judging by the names, a large portion are family members of Nixen employees. But there is a third group. It appears Nixen had gathered people of every ethnic group on Earth and taken them on the journey too.”

“It's not just a seed vault. It's an ark. Everything needed to reseed Earth. Plants. Animals. Humans.”

“I hope this is just a precaution.” Eliza now looked even more worried. “But-”

“Getting this ark to safety is even more important than we thought.” They had left Earth behind. Still. Ninita couldn't help but feel a queasy feeling in her stomach.

Sleep didn't come easy this night for Ninita and she woke up more than once. Fitfully tossing and turning. At three in the morning, she gave up and walked into the living room. Maybe some entertainment vid would get her distracted. But as she summoned a screen, she noticed another message had just arrived. It was marked as urgent, but not by Nixen. It was a general broadcast from Earth. A little hesitant, Ninita started it.

On-screen, a general of the United Territories Of North America sat behind a large desk. He looked harried and worried. He twitched as gunshots could be heard in the background. But instead of running, he addressed the camera.

“My name is McArthur and I am the general in charge of the UTNA space force. This is an emergency broadcast to any so-called mermaids under contract by Nixen Luft- und Raumfahrt GmbH. Be advised. The New Dawn Revelation movement is staging a coup of the white house as I speak. We lost contact with the white house, but it doesn't look good. Those fanatics are here too. Trying to take control of the control center for the space force. Be advised, consider Earth hostile territory. The orbit and surrounding area might be already compromised or will be soon. I urge you all to fall back and gain distance. I repeat, the space around Earth is-”

The broadcast cut off abruptly and Ninita sat there for valuable seconds. Too stunned to act. Then, her mind caught up and she formulated a plan. She woke Eliza first but was sparse on details. Promising more once all mermaids had woken up.

In the vacuum of space, Ninita addressed her mermaids. “Just now, there was a broadcast from Earth. You probably missed it while sleeping. To make it short, the NDR has staged a coup against the United Territories Of North America. They already have or will have soon taken over the space force. The military branch for defense against threats from space. We might be counted as such soon. I know we just have reached cruising speed and are already zero point four astronomical units away from Earth. An immense distance, but one I fear will not be enough. I urge us all to push through despite tiredness. We need to get this core away from Earth. Along with ourselves. It is of the utmost urgency.”

Within a minute, all mermaids had taken up their position and once again dipped into the Substrata to propel themselves forward. Clinging to the data core to pull it along. Ninita prayed that they had acted quick enough, but half an hour later her fears came true.

Hundreds of green lines appeared around them. Parallel to their course. The flight path projected by Ninita's internal system that tracked fast-moving objects in space. Gradually, the lines came closer and shifted to yellow. Then orange. At last, each line centered on one of the mermaids and turned red.

### Warning! - Object on collision course detected! - Please adjust trajectory immediately. - Collision in 37 Mins 24 Secs. ###

Shouts and panic spread through the mermaids. All these lines must belong to missiles fired after them. By the count, the NDR must have thrown the whole arsenal of the space force after them. A few mermaids pushed away from the core but returned as the lines followed them.

Ninita was the first who noticed it. “I think they can track where we dip into the Substrata. None of the missiles target the core.”

“Then we stop swimming and play dead?”

“No!” Ninita shouted immediately before any mermaid could do so. “They probably have alternative means to home in on us. And then, they might target the core too. Let me think.” A plan formed within Ninita. She stopped swimming as hard and slowly fell away from the core. “On my mark, you all drop out of the Substrata. Not before or later. Timing is crucial.”

“What are you doing?” Eliza asked after falling back too.

“Don't worry about it.” Ninita tried to give her a brave smile. “I've got a plan. Hurry up and join the others.”

“No!” Eliza swam close and grabbed close and grabbed Ninita by the shoulders. “Whatever we do, we do it together. I am not letting you go. So, what is the plan?”

Ninita contemplated arguing but stopped. Once, she had trusted Eliza without a second thought. Granted, it had led to their incarceration. But it also reunited them and led them to space. Now, Eliza put her faith in her.

“Drones.” Ninita pointed at her tail. The large fins that acted like solar cells were visibly shrinking. As was her tail. Small fins started to appear that slowly gained a body too. “I am building as many as I can. Once the missiles are close, I release them all. Hoping they track the drones instead of us.”

“The moment we release them, we drop out of the Substrata and hope for the best.” There was determination in Eliza's gaze. “It's a plan. We can release twice as many drones if I make them too.”

Time was ticking down as both of them started to produce drones. It took mass and both were shrinking as a swarm of fishlike drones formed around them. Eventually, the race against time came to an end.

“Now!” On Ninita's mark, nearly a hundred drones scattered away from the mermaids. Both pods dropped out of the Substrata. For a second, nothing happened. Eliza clung to Ninita. Sharing a desperate hug. And then space lit up around Eliza and Ninita as nuclear explosions blossomed around them.

---

Chapter 11 - 2 years in space

---

Jokingly, they called it a sunburn. Each mermaid's upper layer of skin had been scorched. The radiation had penetrated up to two centimeters. But mermaids were built to survive in space. Radiation was expected. Not to the level of a nuclear explosion, but they still came out relatively undamaged. It was a miracle that none of the mermaids had been killed or even seriously hurt. Even the core had survived. Its shielding had been much stronger.

They had to make do with their sunburn for a while. There simply was not enough energy left to facilitate the repairs. Even with material available. Eliza and Ninita had shed most of their mass in their last-ditch gambit. Coming out of the ordeal with even less mass than their fledgling mermaids. For weeks all they could do was to cling to the core and wait for rescue.

The core overshot Ceres by nearly an astronomical unit. Ninita and her group didn't have the energy to slow it down. It took six pods - over a hundred mermaids - to catch up to them and slow them down. Then guiding them to Ceres. It was evident at first glance that the large asteroid - some called it a dwarf planet - was home to mermaids. On the side towards the sun, plants grew in abundance. Ninita knew they were machines, but the colorful foliage still had her fooled for a moment.

It took one month to wake up all the new arrivals. To gather the energy for one large virtual conference. And for a while, every mermaid in the solar system connected or merged with Ceres.

Eliza and Ninita appeared in a gigantic amphitheater. One large enough to house nearly fourteen thousand souls. Over three thousand had been the mermaids scattered throughout the system. The rest were the refugees from Earth. They were so many, but compared to the humans left on Earth, it wasn't even a drop of water on a hot stone.

Speakers took their turn. Passionately arguing about what course of action they all should take. Some advocated for taking over the asteroid belt. Declaring it an independent nation. Others urged for a return to Earth. To take back the orbitals and continue bringing Earth materials. The most vocal of this faction was Andrea Sacher. The former CEO of Nixen. No one was even sure if the company still existed and if it even mattered. A few argued for a diplomatic attempt with the NDR. Their position was hindered by the fact that all communications to Earth had been severed. Not even entertainment broadcasts left the planet.

At last, Ninita had heard enough. She flagged the system governing the conference that she would like to speak. Surprisingly, her turn arrived just moments later.

“My name is Ninita,” she opened after standing up and turning towards most of the crowd. Trusting that the system would carry her voice to all attendees. “Some may know me as a pod mother for the last few years. Others for my role in retrieving the core and the refugees from Earth.”

Thunderous applause made Ninita pause her speech. Patiently waiting until it died down. At last, she was able to continue. “But before I became Ninita - or a mermaid among the stars - I was Nick Cole. An ambulance driver who helped to save lives that society deemed not worth saving. When Nixen approached me, they told me I could not just save lives, but help save mankind. How could I say no?”

Quite a few chuckles answered her, but Ninita continued without pause. “But how can we help humanity when we are cut off from Earth? If we can deliver material. Or if we are even fired upon. I do not have an answer to this riddle. In fact, I fear that if we try, those fanatics on Earth will use up material to stop us. Worsening the situation. One might think there is nothing we can do to save Earth. And that might be true, but there still is a way to save mankind.”

Ninita reached out for the hand of Eliza and she obliged and gave a squeeze in turn. A gesture picked up by a large screen that showed Ninita to the masses.

“For some time, my girlfriend and I have been thinking of heading for the stars. Alpha Centauri first and then-” Ninita shrugged. “Some of you might say we are running away. Maybe. But when we do, we will take a copy of the seed vault with us. As well as anyone who wants to join. Either as themselves or as a donation of their genetics. We will take mankind to the stars and rebuild. Making sure mankind endures. And maybe one day we can return to Earth. To start over. But I fear that day is still far ahead, so I will do what I can. Save what I can. And I hope some of you will join me.”

As Ninita sat down the murmur of the masses picked up. Shoutouts for and against Ninita's proposal rang out before they were silenced. The conference returned to other speakers. This time they addressed Ninita's plan too. But while they did, the first applications for the journey ahead arrived. Eliza and Ninita won't be traveling alone.

---

Chapter 12 - 5 years in space

---

Ninita slowly walked to the pod. It had no special function aside from indicating who took control. Who led. On her way, she saw many faces of mermaids and humans who had joined her over the last three years. Many had become friends. One had become family.

“Ready?” Eliza asked.

Ninita gave her wife a big smile. “With you by my side? Always.”

A last step and Ninita lay down in the pod. Virtual reality vanished as Ninita took over the mermaid's body. Strictly speaking, it wasn't hers. The majority belonged to Eliza and her. But many had pitched in and contributed mass. Moving the mermaid's body was a slog. With nearly four hundred tons of mass, the artificial muscles struggled to give the alacrity a small mermaid had. Even with slowed down time it was as if Ninita moved through syrup. Thankfully, Ninita wouldn't control the body for the entirety of the journey. Others would take turns too.

Moving around, she spied Jia. The Chinese mermaid still managed to look petite despite having a similar mass to Ninita. Jia led a group of exiles that mostly came from Asia by origin. Nearly three thousand souls were in her data banks. Same as Ninita.

Two other colossal mermaids were to Ninita's right. They were slightly smaller and only housed around two thousand each. At last, another big mermaid joined their formation. Andrea Sacher had fought for mankind. Trying to take back the orbitals of Earth in the last three years. In the end, she had to admit defeat. It had come as Ninita feared. The fanatics in charge of Earth had shrouded the planet in orbital forts and defense satellites. Wasting precious resources.

It was time for a few last words. Ninita looked at the mermaids and then looked into the general direction of Earth. “We are now leaving the cradle of mankind. Not just the planet that gave us life, but the very solar system we call home. But this is not the end of mankind. It is just the beginning.”

She gave each mermaid a nod and then the five of them started to accelerate. Heading towards Alpha Centauri. Towards future.

---

Epilog - 1512 years since the mermaid exodus

---

It was time. Raoul Hernández patted down his uniform. It wouldn't do to have wrinkles in it for such a momentous moment in time. He steeled himself so his own nervousness didn't show. Then exited his captain's room.

“Captain on deck!”

He gave the young space a barely perceivable nod and then sat down on the captain's chair. “XO, how is the ship?”

His right hand was quick to answer. “All departments report they are ready.”

“All?” He turned to Lieutenant Commander Devonshire. “Isabella? No sensor shadows to report? A few glitches. Or mermaids?”

The officer at the sensor station blushed a little. In the last few days, the sensors had picked up strange anomalies. By tradition and as a joke they often were referred to as mermaids. When mankind had made their way to space again, they had found a lot of automated defenses. As well as forts filled with long-dead spacers. But strangest of all were the murals and graffiti on the walls that warned of mermaids in space. Some believe they refer to aliens that visited Earth. Others speculate that it was simply oxygen deprivation that made the crews of the forts hallucinate in their final moments.

“No anomalies to report, sir!” Devonshire reported. Then added quieter: “Or mermaids.”

“Good. Lieutenant Wilks.” Raoul turned to his communications officer. “An open line to the whole ship, please.”

Anthony Wilks pushed a few buttons. “You are on, sir.”

“Crew of the Endeavor.” Raoul used his best captain's voice to address the crew of his ship. “It took us a millennium to shuffle off the shackles of fanatic religion that enforced technological abstinence. Four hundred years to return to space. Now, a hundred years later, we have mastered artificial gravity and spread throughout the solar system. The Endeavor is here today for the next step. The first manned hyperspace jump to another star system. I am proud to be the captain of this historic ship and excellent crew. Let's make history. Together.”

Raoul motioned for the line to be cut. Then turned to his navigator. “Eddy, take us out.”

There was a countdown. Then the deep unpleasant feeling of hyperspace that mercifully lasted only a second or two. Then they were out. The jump was a success. At least, they were still in one piece. Now came the important part. Were they at the right location?

“Isabella, talk to me. Tell me we are golden.” But the sensor technician ignored her captain. Furiously typing on her console. She didn't look excited. Rather concerned and worried. Which worried Raoul in turn. “Lieutenant Devonshire. Report.”

Isabella looked up. She looked bemused. “Sir, I've found mermaids.”

“More sensor glitches?” He inquired. “Can you at least confirm we have arrived at Alpha Centauri?”

“No, Sir. I mean, yes, we are at Alpha Centauri, but-” She typed on her console and the main screen switched from the view out to space to the overview the sensors gave. “There are mermaids!” She zoomed in. “In Space. Some are massive. This one is two kilometers long. There are thousands of them.”

Raoul leaned back in his chair. Mermaids? In space? That had to be a glitch. Or maybe someone had uploaded a virus. He was just about to order a diagnostic scan when Anthony Wilks spoke up. “Sir! We are getting a tight beam message. I think it's from that massive one. The mermaid.”

“Impossible!” Isabella was quick to point out. “That one is thirty light minutes away. They shouldn't even see us for another twenty-five minutes. The earliest a message could arrive would be in about fifty-five minutes.”

Raoul held up his hand to stifle any further discussion. With a calm he didn't feel, he ordered: “On screen!”

The view changed. The message had been recorded in space. It showed one large mermaid with many smaller ones that flittered around her like schools of fish. Raoul had no doubt that this one was the mermaid two kilometers long.

“Humans from Earth.” Her voice was soft but carried authority. It reminded Raoul of his grandma. “My name is Ninita. Matriarch of clan Cole-Mckenzie. Long have we waited for your return. Congratulations on your first faster-than-light journey.” Then a chuckle escaped her that didn't quite fit the image of a grandmother. “We hope this time, you know how to behave. Space isn't as empty as you might think.”

“Yeah, no shit,” slipped past Raoul's lips before he could catch himself. Then he shook his head and looked at Isabella. “I don't think those were sensor glitches after all. They knew we were coming. Down to the minute. Mermaids in space. Who would have thought?”

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

Damien sighed as he saw another zombie down the road. It was the only one he could spot. Otherwise, the perimeter was clear. The safe thing to do was to use the sniper rifle on his back and pick off the undead from afar. Sadly easy was not always best.

Sighing he turned around to Harriet. She was the other guard in his shift. "I'll sweep the perimeter of hostiles. Back in five minutes." She gave a nod and pushed an "acknowledged" through her lips.

He spared a glance at my employer and her toy. Both busy going through the soul chips. It always made Damien wince seeing it, as It reminded him how unfair the world had become.

Quickly he made his way over to the zombie. It looked pretty rotten. Decomposing for maybe a half year. Damien picked up a big stone and threw it at the zombie. The deceased stumbled and a moment later Damien's knife found its way into the skull of the undead.

Unlike movies and TV, it was nearly always this easy to kill them. Damien's knife hadn't even left the skull when the corpse vanished. It reminded him of the games his nephew used to play. But this world was no video game no matter how many parallels it had.

He gave his surroundings a once over and then made his way back towards the obelisk. The dark stone was towering thirty feet over the crossroad it was located on. Besides it was Harriet and the two women they protected.

"South perimeter is clear," he told Harriet when he was arriving at the group.

"Other quadrants are silent," she replied curtly.

He nodded and resumed standing guard. Inwardly he had to suppress a grin. He was sure Harriet's military speech was as fake as his own. Not that they would out each other. They were a good team and as long as their employer wasn't the wiser they would continue as is.

"Maybe this one," Zoey Mclaughlin said and held up one of the credit card sized crystal soul chips. A moment later a man appeared out of thin air. He looked confused and disoriented. Damien knew why. Not long ago he had been in the same position as this man now. "Are you useful?" Zoey wanted to know.

The man, however, had questions of his own. "Where am I? Why was I trapped in this room? What happened to this world?"

As the man stepped closer Damien quickly leveled his rifle and stepped between Zoey and the man. "State your previous job or return to the room. Your choice," Damien growled.

Visibly intimidated he started to stammer. "I .. Accountant. I worked for ..." He couldn't say more as he vanished into thin air.

It sucked. Damien knew that. He would have liked to tell the man the answers he knew. Not that he had many himself. But this world was unfair and Damien's employer, Zoey Mclaughlin, even more so.

"Can't you flip all?" Sierra Ferrell whined and gave a pout.

Damien had to grind his teeth to not say anything he would regret. Sierra was Zoey's companion. How that came to be was before his time under Zoey. Sierra had been a model and diva in the old world. In the new world, much of it hadn't changed. She still was a diva and very demanding.

How Zoey could tolerate her was beyond Damien. Even more so knowing that Zoey had a short fuse. But the whole situation made no sense to begin with. Zoey could summon four people. She could use these summons to have four guards. Instead, she had two guards and a demanding dress up doll. Despite that the world was slowly rotting away Zoey insisted on dressing Sierra up and prancing her around.

It was a calculated risk, but Damien stepped in before Sierra managed to push Zoey into a bad mood. "Miss Zoey. Perhaps we should move on," he started.

"Why?" She demanded to know. Her voice already tinged with anger.

Of course telling her that the sun was about to set wouldn't matter. Neither would the fact that soon the obelisk would reset and start spawning zombies again.

"You asked me to remind you that there is a boutique you liked two streets over. If we go now we have enough time to check there and still be in the safe house at nightfall. Of course, we can stay here..."

"No. No. Brilliant idea," Zoey exclaimed. She flipped the rest of the soul chips and stood up.

While Zoey and Sierra were busy gathering their things Damien caught a nod of appreciation from Harriet. Slowly he had learned to steer Zoey. Not with logical reasoning, but with egotistical ones.

Taking the lead Damien's group moved out.

*****

It was an hour later they made it to the store. Once again the limiting factor had been Sierra. Not that it was her fault. She had to wear high heels chosen by Zoey. As the summoner of them, she could decide on the clothes they wore. With the logic of the new world twisted one couldn't even strip them by themselves.

But even that didn't matter. Damien knew very well that Sierra could walk faster in those heels. She even could run. The problem was Zoey who forbids her to walk faster than a leisurely pace no matter the circumstances.

A sudden rush of two dozen zombies didn't mean the rule was to be paused. No. Damien and Harriet had to do their best to protect them while they walked away at a snail pace. These were the few times Damien could see real emotions on Sierra's face. The fear of the zombies that might catch up to her and the even greater fear of displeasing Zoey.

As they arrived Damien quickly entered the store and checked it out for any danger. It looked just as abandoned as the rest of the world. Slowly degrading as it was reclaimed by nature. The clothes on the shelves still stacked neatly but gathering mildew and insects that used them as food or nests.

The goal was, of course, the shiny and new looking computer terminal. There Zoey could exchange points she got by flipping soul chips for items once sold by each shop. The clothes from this store would end up on her, but mostly on her walking dress up doll Sierra.

Stepping out he gave Harriet a nod and she led both of their charges into the store. Meanwhile, Damien took up guard duty outside. He seriously hoped it wouldn't take too long as the sun was already setting and its rays turned slowly golden in the dusk.

*****

They arrived an hour after nightfall the small shelter they called a safe house. They had reinforced the house as best as they could, but Damien had his doubt that it could withstand a bigger hoard of zombies.

But to defend it was not his duty. Once the door was barricaded he started to strip off all things he could. Guns and equipment. Clothes stayed on him as if magic held it in place and for all, he knew that might be the right explanation.

He barely had time to greet Mike, one of the night shift, when he suddenly found himself in a small familiar room. Looking around he saw the same things he always saw. A fifteen by fifteen feet room. Decorated with a table, chair, and a bed. Nothing else. Not even a bathroom. People trapped here didn't need food or anything else. They just existed.

Two years he had been trapped here and he knew he had been close to losing the only thing he still had: his mind. Sighing he let himself fall on the bed. There was nothing else to do here, but sleep or to think. With the former eluding him it was his thoughts that occupied Damien.

The man today reminded him of his own past. Just like the man and the rest of humanity Damien had found himself trapped in this small room. Three months he had to wait and endure till the first summoner found Damien's soul chip.

As he returned to the real world he had a lot of questions. Just like the man today. None had been answered. The summoner had only one for Damien. What had been his job. The answer landed him back in the room. There was no need for a third-grade math teacher in an apocalyptic world overrun by zombies.

But he hadn't known that detail. However, he remembered one detail. The armed guards beside the summoner. That small tidbit stayed with him. When he had been summoned again, about a year and ten months later, he had an answer before the question had been even said aloud. "I am a retired army vet."

The lie was flimsy at best, but it worked. Now he protected a spoiled brat of twenty-two years and a total diva. Relying on knowledge from military action movies and the one summer his cousin had taught him to shoot.

Still, it beats having to see this bleak room all the time. He could endure, but he wasn't sure for how long. One day he might just snap and be alone in this room again.

*****

It wasn't him that snapped or Harriet. To their surprise it was Sierra. It was three months later and they just had cleared the area around another obelisk. It was these stone monuments that spawned the zombies. On ledges cut into the stone, they always found soul chips. Their theory was that the obelisk used these soul chips as a mold for the zombies. So far the theory proved right.

This time it had been easy to cut through the undead. Most of them had been young women. Damien already feared the worst. Seeing girls between sixteen and twenty-five beg for mercy always cut close to his heart than other people.

But it was Sierra who demanded they skip this haul. To just flip everyone without summoning anyone for interviews. Naturally, this angered Zoey and she hit full throttle in next to nothing. Both women shouted at each other and this was unusual too. Sierra was a diva, but this was suicidal. Harriet gave Damien a wary glance and he returned it. This wasn't good, but neither of them dared to step in.

One shout from Sierra cut through them. "I don't want to be replaced!"

A sudden silence settled over the area as it gave them all pause. Of course, Sierra must have seen them too. The zombies of the young women around them. There was a high chance these zombies had been created by the obelisk they had just cleared. She must have reasoned that one of the soul chips might contain someone that could catch Zoey's eyes.

"Maybe I should." It was Zoey's cold voice cutting through the silence. At once Sierra knew she had been gone too far. She pleaded mercy, but Damien could still hear Zoey's menacing voice. "Someone who knows how to follow orders."

Zoey's eyes wandered and leveled on Damien. At once the hairs on his neck stood up. This wasn't good. He had to do something. To his horror, he saw Zoey pull out two soul chips and he had the distinct guess one was his own.

Damien stumbled as the world around him suddenly changed. He was caught by Harriet, but that was impossible. She had been on the other side of Zoey and right beside Sierra.

"What did you do? Give me back my body!" The familiar voice made Damien's head snap around. It had been his own voice and now Damien's eyes fell upon his own body. Despite the evidence, his mind was slow to catch on. Just how was it possible?

"Switch me back or ..." Damien saw his own body level the assault rifle he had been holding on Zoey.

Harriet was struggling to level her own gun but was hindered by Damien in her arms. He managed to draw in two breath in this intense moment when it happened. The rifle clattered to the ground as Damien saw his own body vanish.

Harriet lowered Damien to the ground as his own legs have given out. Shocked he tried to make sense of the aftermath. Zoey can switch bodies. He hadn't known. Hadn't even guessed it was possible. For a brief moment, he wondered what else Zoey kept secret from them.

Then his gaze drifted downward and saw the unreal view down a female body. Sierra's body. It was too much. Damien started to hyperventilate as panic gripped him further.

It was Zoey who drew his attention as she came closer. In her hand, she had only one soul chip. Damien's. Sierra's was gone. Flipped. Along with his body. She crouched down and looked into Damien's eyes.

"Now you know how to follow orders, right?" she asked in a calm voice. It threw Damien's panic off by the sheer absurdity. She just had robbed him of his body and now she was talking to him as if nothing was wrong in the world. As if she was talking to a little girl at a Sunday picnic. "You will be nice and do everything I ask, right?"

Damien had feared a lot of things in his forty-two years of his life, but never something so much like this crazy woman before him. She had trapped him in a body not his own, but he knew it could be worse. She could find another body for him that was worse or she could banish him to the small room.

There was no choice. Not a real one anyway. Reluctantly he nodded. "I will be good for you," he managed to squeeze out. Nearly stopping over how different his voice sounded now.

"Good. Come on. Up with you," she cheerfully told him. With Harriett's help, he slowly got up. His legs shaking as he tried to balance himself on the high heels.

"Like a newborn giraffe," Zoey exclaimed. "Don't worry. I will teach you, Damien. No. Can't call you that. Sierra either. Always hated her name anyway. How about .. Danni? Do you like that Danni?"

Damien swallowed hard. He had always known that Zoey was crazy and unreachable by normal logic, but this was something new. She was clearly mental and now more than ever he felt helpless in her grasp. "I like it. Thank you," he lied and tried his best to sound convincing.

"Yay!" Zoey shouted. Earning a flinch from Harriet and Damien.

"Then let us find a new guard. You can help me."

Damien saw a look of heavy sympathy on Harriet's face before she turned away. With Damien stuck in Sierra's body she alone was now responsible for their protection. With still shaking legs he joined Zoey to go through the soul chips. All the while wondering what he did to deserve this fate.

*****

Danni sighed as she entered the shelter. There was no more Damien left. Unrelenting Zoey had whittled away at him and reshaping him into her. All mannerisms were now female as each male one was meticulously pointed out by Zoey.

By now Danni could walk well in her high heels but still would give anything to get them off her feet. But there was no break. She couldn't even remove them. Only Zoey could and she wouldn't even remove them for sleep.

Another day has passed of strutting through a deteriorating city as if it was a catwalk. Today she had gotten yet another lesson about makeup from Zoey. Not that Danni could apply it herself, but Zoey still insisted on drilling theoretical knowledge into her. What eyeliner and eyeshadow for what occasion and so on. It was nuts. In this world, there would be no more parties to attend to.

Still, Danni knew arguing was futile with Zoey. And that was the hardest part. Not the dressing up in flimsy dresses and high heels and walking around abandoned streets in sixty degrees Fahrenheit, or the endless lessons. It was to bear it all with a grin.

She gave Harriet a small wave before she and Eugene, her replacement guard, was unsummoned. A moment later Mike and Mae appeared to take the evening and night shift. She was especially grateful for Mae who started a small fire to cook dinner.

Now that Danni was Zoey's companion and dress up doll she wasn't unsummoned anymore. That, in turn, meant that her bodily function wasn't reset every day. Once again she had to eat, drink and do other bodily functions. To her horror, there was a new one and the first time she had her period Harriet needed a hold her for a minute while she was crying. It was only the murmured warning that she might upset Zoey that pulled Danni back.

It was late and Danni was about to excuse herself for the night when it happened. Something triggered a car alarm close by. That was strange in itself. Most car batteries had been dried out by now. But it was worse because Danni herself had disconnected every car alarm in a block's radius. Back when she still had been Damien.

Mike ordered Zoey and Danni upstairs and for once Zoey listened without hesitation. Danni was nearly at the top of the staircase when a shot broke the silence and a heavy impact could be heard. Danni had to know what caused it and managed two steps down before Mike saw her and ordered her upstairs again. Just enough time to see Mae's body and the pool of blood slowly expanding around her head.

Inching back she saw Zoey. For the first time, she had a look of panic on her face. "Can't you summon the other guards?" Danni urged her.

She got a shake of a head and a whispered "cooldown" as a reply.

A moment later Mike joined them upstairs. Just in time for all hell to break loose. Dozens of guns started to fire and Danni heard the rounds slam downstairs into walls and furniture. There was no doubt about it. Outside was another summoner and he was clearly hostile.

Once again the stupidity of Zoey was evident as she had chosen a small one family house as a safe zone. Just because it looked nice. Now bullets tore through plywood walls as if they were paper sheets.

Mike pushed upwards with his rifle and opened a hatch to the attic. There was no latter so Mike grabbed Zoey to push her up. To their surprise, Zoey struggled and slipped his grasp. "She first," Zoey insisted. Both Mike and Danni looked as if they had been slapped. Another spur of crazy by Zoey at the worst time.

Danni found her voice first. "The sooner I am up there the faster she can go up too." Mike nodded and offered his hands for Danni to step onto. It was hard because of the high heels, but once Danni had a step he pushed her up. Once through the hatch, she grabbed a wooden beam.

As she was up Danni turned around to help with Zoey. Instead, she found Mike holding something else up for her. Quickly her hand closed around the heavy pistol and placed it on the floor beside her.

"Now Zoey. Quick," she urged Mike.

There was no reply as the glass of a window shattered and Mike staggered back. Even in the darkness, Danni could see the wet glistening of blood. A moment later Mike tumbled down the stairs.

"Danni? Help me up," Zoey said in a shaken voice. It was clear that she was close to panic herself.

"It's too far. I can't reach you," Danni replied. "Stay calm and make yourself as small as you can. Maybe they will think we are all dead and move on. Wait for the cooldown to end. Harriet and Eugene will keep us safe."

There was nothing but silence, but Danni could see Zoey's silhouette cowering down right beneath the hatch. Now they had to wait.

Half an hour later the storm of bullets ended. What followed was eerie silence. Exhaustion and adrenaline battled within Danni and she struggled to stay awake. Now was the time to stay most vigilant. The attackers might decide to sneak in.

Still, there was nothing. The only change was the clouds outside drifting away and letting in more of the pale moonlight. It found its way in through a small skylight and illuminated Zoey. Her body still shaking with fear.

Danni was about to whisper to her when a sound broke the silence.

Down in the basement, they could hear wood splintering. "Danni?" came the barely audible question from Zoey.

"I am here. Stay quiet," Danni whispered back.

Danni strained her ears to hear anything and soon she heard it. She shambling and moaning of an undead. Only one as far as she could tell. It was a wonder really. They had chosen the area because it was far away from the obelisks that spawned zombies. Still, there should be a lot more. It was a lucky break for them. One that didn't matter as the sounds from the undead came slowly closer to the staircase.

"How long for the cooldowns?" Danni whispered.

"An hour," came the weak reply.

Still, there had to be another way. "Don't you have anyone else to summon?" Danni wanted to know.

She nearly cursed out loud when a faint "No" came back.

Once again she cursed the stupidity of Zoey. If she died it would mean Danni too would return to the dreaded small room. Who knew how long she had to wait to be summoned again and if she would be still sane by that time.

It was unavoidable unless she found a way to cheat the system and that gave her an idea. "Zoey! You once said a summoner can make other summoners, right?"

"Yes! B-but the cooldown is universal. Even if you are a summoner you can't summon the others," Zoey explained in a hurried whisper.

Danni was stumped. This possibility hadn't even occurred to her. Not that it mattered. Danni pushed onward on her original plan. "Listen. Sorry, but I can't save you from up here. But I don't wanna end up in that small room again. It's horrible and you won't be there," she lied. It was true that she would do anything to avoid the room, but she could do without Zoey.

"Zoey I need you to be strong now. That zombie will kill you. I can't change that and you can't either." The sobbing from below clued her in how much Danni's words had hit home. "But we still can be together. If you make me a summoner then I can get your soul chip. I can summon you and then I make you a summoner again. Nothing will change. We will be together just like before."

While Danni was catching her breath she listened to the sobbing below her. Maybe she needed to push more for her plan to work. She was about to say more when things changed. There was an energy filling her and a moment later words and menus. It was so alien and yet it reminded her again of the games her nephew used to play. It showed her once again how absurdly twisted the world had become.

Still, she knew now her plan had worked. Zoey made her a summoner and with it had cut Danni's strings binding her to Zoey.

"Danni?! Help! Please!" The pleading downstairs broke Danni's triumph. Right now there wasn't the egotistical and crazy woman Danni knew. Only a scared little girl about to be killed horribly by an undead.

Danni's hand moved on instinct to the pistol. The gun was cold and heavy in her hand. Still, she picked it up and aimed it down the hatch where a shambling silhouette made its way upstairs. The loud bang that tore through the silence didn't shock her as much as the pain that flared through her hand. Grunting, her other hand clutched her wrist as if she could keep the pain away.

"Danni?! You shoot it! You ... you aren't supposed to shoot things. You are a model! I told you that you aren't allowed to use guns!"

The shouting broke through the haze of pain and reminded Danni of Zoey. The real Zoey. Not the one that she had pitied a moment ago. No. The manic one without a sense of reason. Now she made more sound than a horde of undead.

Danni at once regretted saving her. With shooting the undead she had made clear that someone was still alive. If the hostile summoner was still around Danni had doomed them both.

"Fuck it," Danni pressed out through pain and grinding teeth. Once again she aimed and pressed the trigger.

Pain shot through her arm and she barely heard the gun's impact on the floor below. The kickback of it clearly had damaged her wrist. In that moment everything was unimportant. All Danni could do was to clutch her hand against her chest. It was then that exhaustion and fatigue slowly wrestled consciousness away from her.

*****

Danni woke as she turned in her sleep and new pain flared through her wrist. Her eyes flew open and she needed a moment to remember what happened. Immediately two things were on her mind. She was a summoner now and she was hurt.

By now it was hours later and daylight shone through the small windows of the attic. Illuminated by a single ray of sunshine was one of her heels. It hadn't been possible before to slip off her feet, but now as a summoner, the rules for her had changed.

As illogical as it was her first instinct was to kick off the other heel. Then she carefully took off the skimpy top that Zoey had called fashionable. A hiss of pain escaped her lips as she wrapped it around her wrist. It would have to do till she found better things to make a splint and arrest her hand.

The next logical step was to go downstairs. Up in the attic, she would surely die. Not from zombies, but hunger and thirst. As far as she could tell the house was empty. No new undead, but she could be wrong. Looking through the hatch she didn't see a lot. Both, Mike and the Zombies bodies had vanished. On the lowest step, she could see Mike's rifle that had tumbled down with him.

Directly below her was more interesting. Zoey's body was gone too, but below her, on the floor, she could see the heavy pistol and soul chips. She knew those vanished after about a day and returned to a random obelisk. Danni had to get down before they did turn into thin air.

On her belly, she let her legs hang and slowly pushed herself with her good hand towards the hatch. Just when her belly button was past the hatch she lost her grip and she slid downward in a split second. She landed painfully on her feet and one folded under the pressure. With a heavy crash, she landed close to the staircase.

Blinking through the pain Danni pulled herself to the soul chips. Tears obscured her view, but she still had enough in her to find the soul chip she needed.

Harriet appeared beside her and she was quick to look around. "Danni! What happened?" she demanded to know. "The summoning is late. Where is Zoey."

It took all the strength she could muster, but Danni held up a soul chip with a lopsided grin on her face. "Here," she said triumphantly. "I am the summoner now. Need help though."

Thankfully Harriet was quick on the uptake. "Can you summon Eugene?"

Danni nodded and a moment later he joined them. Summoned from the realm of horrible little rooms. Harriet took a moment to instruct him and he started to secure the house. "I take it your wrist is hurt?" Harriet asked while peeling away the makeshift bandage.

Danni nodded. "Fired that pistol over there," she pressed out through gritted teeth. "Took down an undead."

Harriet nodded. "That explains it. This gun has a kick like a mule. Without training how to hold it, it can do serious damage."

"Well I had to fire it twice," Danni admitted. "Couldn't resist blowing Zoey's brains out."

Harriet remained quiet, but Danni was sure that she had seen a small fleeting smile on her face.

"No hostiles in the area," Eugene told them as he came back. "What now boss?"

It had been lurking in her mind before, but now it dawned on her. She was now in charge. Instead of answering a hiss of pain escaped her. Harriet had pulled tight an improvised splint and the pain made Danni see stars for a moment.

After catching her breath she tried to shrug it off and play cool. "First off no more pseudo-military speak. I trust you both and you are capable. So how about we cut the crap?"

Harriet and Eugene glanced at each other before giving Danni a small shared smile.

"I served ten years," Harriet proudly told her.

"Made one tour and joined the police force just before ... this happened," Eugene threw in.

"Oh great. So I am the only phony one?" Danni demanded to know.

"Pretty much, but at least you were good at acting," Harriet told her gently.

"All right. I give up. Clearly, I am unqualified. Harriet, you are in charge now. No more stupid decision by a summoner. No stupid shoes, makeup, and useless errands. Just keep us safe. Deal?"

"Deal," she told Danni and shook her good hand. "Can you get up? We need to find a safe-house that qualifies for the name."

"I hope so. I might have strained my ankle coming down from the attic," Danni truthfully admitted.

At once Harriet took a look and found the ankle tender, but not too badly bruised. "Should be okay, but there is another problem. Could you try to relax your feet?"

"They already are," Danni corrected her confused.

"Okay, let's try something. Tell me if this hurts," Harriet instructed her.

She pushed Danni's foot slightly upwards and at once Danni winced in pain.

"Danni. Where are your heels?" Harriet wanted to know.

"Those cursed things are up in the attic," Danni spat with passion

"Eugene. Go get them," Harriet instructed him.

"Oh hell no!" groaned Danni.

"Sorry, but this is the consequence of wearing very high heels for too long. Your tendons shortened along with some supporting muscles. There is only one way to walk out of this house for you. With heels on."

"Oh fuck me sideways," Danni spat with gusto.

"Is that a serious offer?" Eugene joked.

Grumbling Danni snatched the offered heels with her good hand and tried to slip them on. A moment later she was helped by Harriet.

"And here I thought I was done strutting around like playing Miss Apocalypse 2020"

She got a heartfelt pat on the shoulder and was lifted upwards. "At least we know you hadn't chosen to be a spoiled princess," Eugene offered.

Danni gave a sarcastic laugh as she leaned on Eugene to leave this shoot to cheese imitating house.

*****

Three years later Danni wasn't a spoiled princess. Much to her sense of irony, everyone called her queen. She wished they wouldn't, but this was the consequence of her actions.

Once safe Danni had started to explore her abilities as a summoner and found out the depth of Zoey's betrayal. It had been awfully easy to expand her own guards to ten. But this was not what brought her fame. It had been equally easy to make other people summoners. Expensive, yet feasible. Their world was now twisted, but Danni vowed to rebuild it. For this cause, she recruited new summoners that proved loyal to her. Resulting in the growing domain around her that swore loyalty to Danni.

Of course, the system was still flawed. In order to promote so many people to being summoners, many soul chips had to be flipped to gain the points to do so. Here another betrayal of Zoey came to light. A summoner could connect rooms in the other worlds. Create corridors and entertainment rooms. Alleviate the harsh madness of this alternative world.

Danni let herself fall into her chair in the middle of her compound. Her guards and subjects had brought her another few dozen of soul chips. By now it was her duty to judge the trapped people if they had it in them to be a guard for someone or to be a summoner themselves. Even if she had to flip them Danni made sure to connect them to the growing network of rooms. For that reason alone it made sense to pool all soul chips and let one person look through them.

It had been a long day already and Danni took a moment to slip out of her heels and massage her feet. They still were stuck in a half "en pointe" position. Much to Danni's dismay. But it couldn't be helped. Like the light pain still sometimes flaring up where her broken wrist hadn't properly healed.

"Let's hope there aren't too much Looney's in this batch," Danni commented softly and she got an agreeing grunt from behind. Of course, Harriet was behind her. Her most trusted guard, who refused time and time again to become a summoner herself.

It was the eighth summon that made Danni open her eyes in shock. She knew that face. It hadn't aged a day in the other world. Finally, she had found "him".

Of course, "he" recognized her too. "That is my body! You thief! Give it back!"

The man suddenly vanished and Danni needed a moment to process what happened. She had flipped "him" on instinct. Had given away her chance to return to her original body.

A hand softly settled on her shoulder. "He was clearly a looney," came the sympathetic voice of Harriet from behind her. "Clearly delusional from the years in isolation. You had to flip him."

Danni nodded, but internally she wasn't so sure. Had it been right? Maybe it had been selfish. After all these years and hardships maybe she had grown fond of this body. Earned it too. Maybe. For now, Danni pushed the matter aside. There were more souls to connect and her work wasn't done. Not by a long shot.

Hengki rushed out of the classroom. He had enough for today. Especially when the lesson was so gloomy. "How The World Came To An End" had been the name the oracle had given today's part of their education.

Outside Hengki had to shield his eyes from the sun. But even that helped only to a degree as the sunshine was reflected on the water around him. Nonetheless, he found his boat soon enough. It was one of about thirty that anchored at the school. It swayed as Hengki jumped down and for a moment he fought to not fall overboard. Like the rest of the village, the school was on a platform that was about three feet above sea level.

After untethering, Hengki cast-off. He was quite eager to go to a special place. As he rowed out onto the lake, he saw his classmates heading for their own boats. For a moment his eyes were caught by Tala, the oracle that had just taught him about the gloomy past. Hengki could have sworn he saw disapproval in her gaze to him. As if she knew what Hengki was about to do. Nonetheless, he rowed onward.

The village kept getting smaller and smaller. It was one of the few features that broke the wide surface of the lake. Here and there a hut poked out of the surface. Standing on big beams of wood. Each one won the hard way. By going to the shore. As he thought about it Hengki saw something flash at the shoreline. A robot. An animal made purely out of metal. They roamed the land and hunted everything. Even humans. Only one place was safe from them. The lake and the small community that settled on it.

As he rowed further he was reminded of today's lesson. It had been mankind that created the robots. With technology too advanced to understand today. At least the Oracle believed in it. Hengki doubted the whole story. They build with wood, leather, and twine. To make something with metal was abstract. Then to get it moving even harder to think of. He would have dismissed the oracle outright if it hadn't been for her uncanny ability to predict the weather.

After rowing for most of an hour he arrived at his intended target. One of the forbidden spots. Here the water wasn't as deep. His anchor hit the ground at maybe forty-five feet. After making sure his boat was secured Hengki jumped overboard. As always the water was cold, but not as much as the rest of the lake. This wasn't the only strange occurrence around here. As he dived a few feet down he saw an eerie glow at the bottom of the lake. This was the very reason the villagers were afraid to go to this place. And in their fear, they forbid this place.

After a half dozen of test dives, Hengki thought himself ready. He took a last few gulps of air before he committed himself. Diving as fast as he dared. He had trained for it in other spots of the lake, but it didn't make it any easier as the familiar pressure builds around him. He came closer and closer to the glow and it grew in intensity. Now he noticed how strange the glow was. It cut off in the middle. Drawing a strange rectangular shape underneath him.

As he hit the ground Hengki pushed himself closer towards the light. He arrived at a cliff. Or so he thought at first. As pushed over he saw the truth. It was a house. Under water no less. He did see light and air on the second story, but not enough walls on the outside. Maybe the villagers had been right. Witchcraft. How else could air exist there without spilling into the lake?

For a moment he contemplated abandoning his self-chosen mission. But the notion didn't last long. A few kicks of his legs and he arrived at the barrier. Pushing against it didn't help. There was no way for him to get through.

His lungs started to burn and Hengki knew he should surface soon. Just as he was about to swim up a thought came to him. Hengki pressed his face against the barrier and looked sideways. His guess was right. Glass. The whole second story of the house was surrounded by glass.

He thought about it as he swam upwards. Glass was rare enough. He had seen a few pieces in his life. A glass mug, some pots, and a bowl. Yet all these had never been this clear. So colorless that one could mistake it for being invisible. The ancients must have had means to produce glass that weren't possible in the era Hengki lived.

He broke through the surface of the lake and filled his lungs with new air. Hengki saw his boat not too far away. Yet he didn't swim towards it. What he had seen only fanned the flames of his curiosity. After paddling for five minutes Hengki dived down again.

This time he pushed further down. If the second floor of the submerged house was cut off by glass then maybe the first floor was a better option. At first, Hengki found only glass again. He nearly missed the opening as he saw it. The ground floor had no light so it was hard to see that two of the glass panels were shifted to the side. These were smaller two. Maybe they had been doors, Hengki reasoned.

As he swam through them darkness closed in around him. Unfamiliar shapes surrounded him. He was about to turn around when he saw a soft glow illuminating a staircase. He remembered seeing the second floor dry. There must be air, he reasoned to himself.

Arriving at the stairs he came up to the air. Cautiously he breathed it in. It smelled different to Hengki. Not as fresh as the air above the lake, but not bad like he expected. The stairs and the floor he had swum through was overgrown with algae and plants, yet as he stepped up he saw an immaculately clean floor and walls. As if someone had cleaned them just before Hengki's visit.

The walls here were strange. Definitely not wood. Smooth and hard. And quite solid he guessed as he knocked against one. The house was big, maybe even larger than the school building. It was filled with walls made of glass and whatever that other material was. It filled him with wonder. Many of the furniture was made of glass too. That and metal. So the oracle had been right. Once mankind had the knowledge to form metal.

He explored room by room. Their purpose eluding him. But they all were illuminated by lamps without flames. Had the ancients mastered magic? The Oracle always told him and others that there was no magic. Only advanced technic. "Science" she called it. For Hengki it always had been just another word for magic.

At last, he arrived at a room that was surrounded by glass walls tinted in the color of fresh milk. Within he found a bed. A rather strange one too. Much of it was below some glass. Stepping closer, Hengki saw the bed itself was made of leather. But one so strange he had never seen before. Under his hands, he felt no creases or folds. Not even pores. What animal was large enough to provide this much skin that didn't show folds where muscles stretched beneath it?

As strange as the bed was, Hengki knew he had to try it. To lay on something the ancients made. He stripped most of his clothes. Then crawled into this strange bed. It felt strange. Too soft beneath him. Not bad and kind of relaxing. For a moment he closed his eyes.

Then there was a hiss. Hengki opened his eyes and they widened in panic. The glass had closed around him. He pushed against it, but it didn't budge. Then lights appeared around him. Some even floating in the air around him. They took the form of symbols. So foreign Hengki couldn't decipher them.

Some changed constantly. Repeating the same ten symbols over and over again. One place moved fast, and every time it had gone through all ten symbols, the symbol next to it changed. Was it counting down? Hengki pushed stronger against the glass. Leaning with all his strength against it. Then the symbols flashed.

Hengki held his breath, but nothing happened. It took him a few moments to relax. With the panic gone, a tiredness overcame him. His last thought was that he shouldn't fall asleep here. But the pull was too strong. Darkness claimed him.

* * * * * * * * * *

Hengki slowly woke up. Feeling refreshed as if he had slept in. One of those times his mother wouldn't wake him up early for school or to go fishing. As he opened his eyes that relaxed feeling vanished. His eyes took in his surrounding. It all came back to him in a rush. The submerged building of the ancients. The strange sight of what was in it. The bed that trapped him.

Now he saw it open. As he shifted to slip out of it, he felt wrong. As if his very own body felt different. He lifted his hand so he could see it and started to scream. That his scream was wrong made it only worse. It was too high pitched. Wrong. Just like his arm. Too slender. Not his own. He took a few panicked gulps of air before looking down his body. What he saw made him scream again. More in confusion than in panic.

He had breasts. And hips wider than his own. His whole body was different. It was if the ancients had punished him. Robbing him of his maleness and giving him the body of a girl. It took a long time for him to calm down. Only one reason made him not spiral out of control. The ancients had punished him. Maybe he did something wrong. Offended them. There could be a way to appease them. Earn his old body back.

As he slipped out of the bed his first steps were unsteady. Hengki needed a moment to find his balance. It was a new one. This body didn't behave like his old one. Close, but not quite right. The most obvious change that bothered him was his new breasts. Hidden underneath some strange clingy material. They shifted slightly with each step he took.

He paced around the room slowly. Trying to get used to them. There he discovered the next surprise the ancients had in store for him. As he stepped close to some sort of commode a mirror extended. One so clear unlike everything he had ever seen. The reflection showed him a girl that could have been his sister if he had any. She looked remarkably like him, yet subtly female.

But that was not what threw him off. It was the garment he was wearing. He recognized it. It was the clothing of the Oracle. The very one that hung framed in her home. His head spun with thoughts about what it might mean. It filled him with new panic, but also hope. Maybe the Oracle knew more.

As he stepped out to the corridor new strangeness threatened to overwhelm him. It was the same corridor, but there were a lot of new lights floating around. Many of them the same strange ciphers he had seen in the bed. He even saw pictures. They usually floated near entrances to rooms. Showing people in such details that no human hand could have drawn them.

Slowly he made his way to the stairs when he noticed something else. One of those symbols followed him. It was always there. Wherever he looked it was in the top left corner of his sight. As he thought about it, others like it appeared. More symbols that affixed itself to Hengki's view. Concentrating on the wrong one brought more light. More confusing symbols and pictures. He closed his eyes. Willing them away, but even there he saw them. Haunting him.

Then he found one symbol. It was like a cross. It made the lights vanish. He hunted for it and slowly the lights vanished. Until only one remained. The one in the top left corner. There was no cross for that one.

Truly freaked out by now he ran to the stairs. He didn't take long to get used to the water. It felt strange to him anyways. As if it was different for his new body. Nonetheless, he pushed forward. Taking some deep breath before diving into the water.

Hengki just passed the door to the building of the ancients when he noticed the next mistake. His lungs burned. This was not the body he was used to. The one he and trained to endure long dives down the lakes. Panic filled him and he pushed towards the surface.

He didn't come far when the burning got worse. He wanted to breathe. His body needed to. Desperate he looked up and frowned in confusion. He saw his boat and many others. There might be every boat of the village there on the surface. And divers. They gestured towards him.

New hope filled him and he gave a few kicks. THen his lungs gave out. He breathed in water. Struggled not to. It was in vain. In his panic, he nearly didn't feel the hands grabbing him. Dragging him upwards. Then there was air. He tried to breathe, but something didn't allow it.

Someone heaved him onto a boat and there turned him to the side. He threw up water and gulped for air. That was all he could do for a moment. Only when he calmed down he heard the many voices around him chanting in celebration.

"A new Oracle was chosen. Blessed be the Oracle."

Hands lifted him up. Carried him from boat to boat until he saw the weather aged face of the old oracle.

"Rest my child," she told him gently. "I will tell you all, but for now rest."

That sounded heavenly to Hengki. He fell unconscious a moment after they sat him down.

* * * * * * * * * *

Hengki woke to the sound of a fireplace churning on wood. For a moment he was confused where he was until his eyes found the framed clothes of the Oracle. The same one he still wore himself. With it, he knew. It hadn't been a dream. He was a girl now.

"You must be confused."

The voice made him look around and he found the Oracle sitting at a small table. Sipping tea of all things.

"Come sit," she offered. "Have some tea and I explain everything."

Hengki nodded. What else could he do? Standing up he decided to keep the blanket around him that he woke up with. It took him only a few steps to reach the offered chair.

"Why did the ancients punish me like this?" he asked as he sat down.

The Oracle laughed sharp and loudly. It made Hengki cringe.

"They didn't. You did," the Oracle said after calming down. "Ever heard the saying 'Curiosity was what the catfish got caught'? It was your own curiosity that led you down this path."

"I don't understand," Hengki truthfully admitted.

"The ancients had a word. 'Transgender'. Do you know what it means?" the Oracle asked, but continued in the same breath. "Of course you don't. You see one of the pearls of wisdom of the ancients was the fact that they knew that some souls were born in the wrong body. One with the wrong gender. Those souls they called transgender."

"Why would the ancients think I was this- 'Transgender'," Hengki asked.

"You most certainly were not," the Oracle admitted. "Though now you might be. You see the building you found was a 'clinic'. Their word for a healer's hut. This 'clinic' was built to help those they called 'Transgender'. They build two devices. Looking like beds. One to change a woman to a man and one to change a man to a woman."

"And I found the wrong one. It was my own curiosity that doomed me-" Hengki mused out loud. Then he jumped out of the chair. "Then I need to find the other bed."

"Sit down," the Oracle said softly. "The other bed- It is on the ground floor and doesn't work anymore. Believe me. I tried."

"Why did you-" Hengki started to ask, but then his eyes caught the Oracle's garment on the wall. "You are like me."

"A long time ago, yes," the Oracle agreed. "I too was once a young boy. My curiosity stronger that the warnings of my elders. I too laid on the bed. As did every other oracle before us."

"That's why the village was chanting," Hengki mused.

"My 'implant' alerted me of your change," the Oracle explained. "So I prepared the village to welcome you appropriately."

"What's an 'implant'?" Hengki demanded to know.

"A small machine. One inside of me. And inside of you. Don't worry. They are harmless. They talk to other machines and allow us access to a wealth of information."

"Can it control the robots that roam the land?"

"Sadly no," the Oracle said with a deep sigh. "Those are broken. Mankind couldn't fix them in time. But there are other machines." She pointed upwards. "High up in the sky there are those the ancients build to predict the weather. With their help, I make my prophecies. A duty that will soon fall to you."

Hengki gave a sad nod. "So that is how it is. No way for me to become a boy again and now I have to assume the role you lay before me."

"I understand your bitterness," the Oracle admitted. "I was once like you. Curiosity led us down this path. Now we are cursed with more information that we would have liked. It is our duty to keep the knowledge of it alive. When mankind fell they shunned technology. It is our duty to erode that superstition. To one day lead mankind back to its former glory. It might still take generations."

"There will always be that one boy to curious for himself, right?" Hengki asked.

"It did so far. Well, now. There is a lot more to teach. In time we will get to know each other well. You can call me Tala," the Oracle offered. "That was the name I have chosen for myself. You should choose a new one for yourself soon too. Then I can start teaching you the language of the ancients. They called it 'English'."

Hengki nodded. Didn't like it one bit. But Tala was right. He had chosen it at the moment he gave in to his own curiosity and ignored the warnings about the forbidden places. Before him lay a long road. One that might become lonely. Yet he saw no way around it. It was what it was. He was now a girl and the Oracle's apprentice. And with that, he had to live with for the rest of his life.

Tamara Russo checked the last time that everything was perfect. The small mirror in her car showed a confident woman of mid-forties. Perfectly styled in a professional manner. As expected from the number one realtor in the town.

However, today she was not here to look or sell a house. Sighing she stepped out of the car and walked in a confident pace to the apartment building. It didn't take long to find the apartment she was looking for. She rang the doorbell and soon enough sounds could be heard. The clack of high heels on the wooden floor. The door was pulled open with a lot of force.

"You aren't a cute guy," the girl opening the door said with a pout. Tamara furrowed her brows. That girl looked like the stereotypical bimbo. Bleached hair, overdone make-up, baby blue eyes, and an overly pouty mouth. Big breasts squeezed in a way to small tube top. A belly piercing and below it an all too short mini skirt. Tethering on stripper heels she might as well be one, save for the point that she looked like sixteen.

"Mom! There is like a witch at the door!" the teen shouted into the apartment. It made Tamara cringe. The existence of witches was carefully kept secret for centuries. Now some ditz not only knew that Tamara was one, but she also shouted it out to let the world know.

A moment later a mid-thirties woman arrived and send the girl away. "Hello. Sorry about that. You are Miss Russo, right? My name is Alexa Greene. We spoke on the phone."

Tamara took the offered hand and shook it. "Yes, I am Tamara Russo. Head witch of the local coven. With dismay, I see that some of the rumors are true. That won't bode well for your application to join our coven."

Miss Greene looked distressed but was quick to correct Tamara. "Often rumors have a hint of truth to them. It would be in your best interest to listen to the real truth."

"Is that a threat Miss Greene?" Tamara asked on edge.

"Threat? I suppose. But not from me. I am just a messenger with a warning. Please come in and listen. When you have all the information then you can judge me all you want," Miss Greene replied in an oddly calm voice.

Tamara nodded. She hated rumors herself and preferred the truth. Intrigued she stepped in.

Miss Greene led her into the living room. "Would you like some tea? Oh, one moment." She grabbed two lifelike dildos from the couch. "Candie! You left John and Dick laying around again."

The clicking of high heels announced the arrival of Candie and she snatched the dildos from her Miss Greene's hands. "Oh, I missed those. Hehe. Dick the dick!" Giggling she walked away.

"Sorry about that. Those are the trails you have to endure living with a bimbo. Please sit. Tea?"

Tamara shook her head in disbelief but took a seat nonetheless. "Yes to the tea, but mind me asking why you raised your daughter to be a bimbo?"

"Oh, I didn't raise her nor am I her mother," Miss Greene replied before ducking into the kitchen. Not long after she came back with a tray carrying a tea-set. After pouring for both of them Miss Greene continued. "I am not her mother, yet I take responsibility for her. You see without that ditz I would be the one milling around on high heels and be an air-head."

That was a curious statement. Intrigued Tamara motioned for her to continue.

"True to the rumors I come from a small town in Florida. I was raised there and joined the local coven when I was sixteen. At first, everything was okay, but once I got used to the coven life I noticed ... oddities. You see like every other witch coven, mine preached the advancement of women too. Yet they never acted on it. All around us were women who debased themselves. Going sluttier by each passing day. Yet my coven did nothing. I always heard the same excuses. We are in Florida. It is normal around here. Trying to change it is like stopping the waves of the ocean."

"So, you are saying your coven neglected their duties to womankind?" Tamara inquired.

"It was more than that," Miss Greene replied a little agitated. "It was like they turned a blind eye to it on purpose. It got me intrigued and worried. I did what they forbid me. I investigated."

"I take it what you found wasn't good?" Tamara arched an eyebrow. "Found a conspiracy?"

"That rumor again!" Miss Greene nearly spilled her tea as she rolled her eyes. "My former coven tries to paint me as a crazy person who sees conspiracies everywhere. Which isn't true. I saw only one. And my former coven didn't. It was nearly their downfall. Now, to save face they try to discredit me."

There was a pregnant pause as Tamara weighted the words presented to her. Miss Greene was well known as a crazy person. Who else would live with a ditz like that in her home? Especially as a witch. Or former apprentice witch in her case. Yet, what she said had a certain feel of logic to it. And if witch covens had one glaring problem then it was their pride. Could there be more to it?

"So, your former coven was not the origin of a conspiracy, but a target of one? I'll give you the benefit of a doubt. So what brought your investigation to light?"

Now, Alexa looked uncomfortable. "At first, nothing. Whatever influenced my former coven clearly was on the lookout. No matter where I turned I hit a brick wall. But one thing stood out. A country club. Exclusive to men. Yet many of the coven witches took up voluntary work there. I tried to gain access but was denied again and again. But I knew there was something foul afoot. I could smell it. Bad magic. To pry into it I used- A childhood friend. A guy named Matt."

"Don't tell me you revealed yourself as a witch!" Tamara exclaimed.

Miss Greene's eyes turned to steel and bored into Tamara's. "I did. No! Don't start with the witch code. I know it well. But at that time. I was desperate and out of options." Suddenly, Alexa cut off. A few heartbeats passed as she calmed down. When she continued her voice was tinged with regret. "Back then I thought I was only bending the rules. I was in love with Matt and we just started dating. The rules say we can only reveal ourselves to mortals if they are our bespoken. Back then I knew I would marry him. Was so sure of it. Would it really matter if he knew a few years sooner?"

"That would explain some of the animosity of your former coven," Tamara admitted. "It certainly isn't helping your case. But go on. What happened next?"

"I'll spare you the boring details and get straight to the point. Because time is running out." Alexa still gave a small pause to let that statement sink in. "After a month of painstaking investigation we found out that the country club was the den of a warlock pack. Right under the noses of my former coven. But it was worse. Some of them had been- Subdued. Corrupted. Made willing participants in dark rituals."

"That is a serious accusation," Tamara remarked.

"The very reason why my former coven tries to discredit me so much. And it got worse."

"How can it? Conspiring with warlocks is the worst thing a witch could do!"

Miss Greene gave her a sad bemused smile. "It was all thanks to Matt that I found out. You see he infiltrated the club as an employee. Explored the clubhouse from top to bottom. The only place he couldn't get into was the cellar. Sealed by magic. So one night he smuggled me in and together we tried to find out their secret plans."

Alexa grabbed for her tea, by now cold, and proceeded to drain it sip by sip. It annoyed Tamara to no end. Finally, she snapped. "What happened then? Don't draw it out."

As she placed her cup down Tamara noticed the tremble in Alexa's hand. Even the small clang of porcelain against porcelain as the cup was put down a little too forceful.

"A nightmare happened. One that haunts me to this very day. What Matt and I found was an abomination. A spell in the making. Half warlock magic and half witch."

"Impossible!"

"I wish it was. I still was an apprentice witch at the time so I can't tell you all the details of the spell. I knew it wasn't complete. A spinning nexus of vile magic right there in the middle of the cellar. From what I could gather it was an area spell. One of unfathomable size. It might have targeted the whole of Florida. Or more. The effect? I guess it was the same I saw on my fellow witches. Just. Amplified."

It was that moment in which Candie strutted into the living room. "Oh my gosh, Mom! My best friend Bambi like has found this rat party and like I totally wanna go and-"

Alexa sighed, but then she focused on her supposed daughter. "Fine. But only if you take enough condom with you."

"Yay!" Candie exclaimed. Clapping her hand like a small girl receiving a big gift at her birthday party. "I can't wait to fuck all the studs there! Oh my gosh! What dress should I wear?"

Candie was already halfway up the stairs to the second floor when Alexa shouted after her. "And be back by midnight. Two at the latest. And no taking dicks with you!"

"But Mom," Candie pouted from atop the stairs. "They love it when I take them out in my snatch."

"No dicks!" Alexa repeated in a stern exaggerated voice. A loud "Awww" could be heard, but the ditz was already in her room. Probably going through her trashy dresses.

Through the whole exchange, Tamara had been silent. Watching with a horrified expression on her face. "Don't tell me- The spell! Is she some kind of 'prototype' victim of it that you took in."

"I wish!" Alexa exclaimed, but quickly deflated. "That came out wrong. You see we didn't have long to study the spell. The warlock pack returned and we, Matt and I, were out of options. I wasn't strong enough to dispel it. Heck, I think a whole coven would have had trouble. All I managed was a barrier. Between Matt and me, and them. One quickly failing."

Again Alexa grew silent and this time Tamara gave her time. Perhaps sensing that she needed it. As she continued her voice grew clipped and tears started to flow. "It was Matt. He acted when I could. Just a brief kiss and an 'I love you'. That was the last I saw of him. He grasped what I didn't. That the spell could only be stopped by giving it a target before it was set off. So he jumped into it. The very center of the spell. One moment he was there and the next-"

"Candie," Tamara guessed into the silence as Alexa now broke out fully in tears.

Several minutes and a whole tissue box later Alexa was strong enough to continue. "A spell powerful enough to transform a whole state. All condensed into one person. It obliterated the Matt I knew. What remained was an avatar of all the perverted and fiendish dreams of the warlocks."

"That sounds impossible to believe," Tamara murmured. "Yet, I do. Believe you that is. But how did you escape?"

"Candie!" Alexa said with a sad lopsided grin. Throwing her hands up in resignation. "All she cared was getting fucked and there was a pack of warlocks nearby. None could resist her. After all, she was their dreams made flesh. What they didn't realize- She is a magical hazard walking on two legs. Men that have sex with her- They dwindle away. Changed into a magical artifact in the form of their former dicks. Sentient. Imprisoned. Probably loving every minute of it. None of the warlocks escaped. Each thinking they would be powerful enough to resist the change. But thinking with their dicks made them dicks. Forever."

"So that's why you tolerate her," Tamara concluded. "In honor of Matt who sacrificed himself."

"In part, yes. But I also keep an eye on her. She is a force of nature if not blunted by my guidance. The sad truth is that she will probably walk the earth long after I died of old age. For nine years I dragged her now through the country and she hadn't aged a day. The spell keeping her in the best shape. Forever young."

"But surely you must have tried to undo the enchantment on him, right?"

"Of course!" Now a scowl of anger and fury cast itself over Alexa's face. "I asked my coven for help. They wouldn't touch Candie with a ten feet pole. The warlocks? They contributed to my imagination. At the same time, they rounded up their affected members and cleansed them. But blame it on anything but the warlocks. They launched a formal investigation into the country club and came up blank. What a joke!"

"I see," Tamara said. Already deep in thought. "Still, there must be a way to reverse the spell on Matt. And when we find the spell on him it would be all the facts we need to prove your story as true."

"I waited a long time for anyone to say that," Alexa admitted. "I have visited dozens of covens in search for a new home and help. Yet now, as finally, someone believes me, I can't accept. In fact, I already planning to move away as fast as possible."

"Why in the world would you do that?" Tamara asked. "I am offering my help. Why throw it away?"

"Because you have other problems," Alexa revealed with a stern look. "Tell me. Did you notice a change recently in your coven? Do they dress differently? More open and revealing? Even provocative? Did their behavior change? Do they now compare their recent conquests?"

Every word hit home as Tamara indeed recognized the signs. Shocked she looked at the young woman who was in the middle of breaking down the normality of Tamara's world. "But- You said Candie got all the warlocks. If they got all - dickified - who could start a new pack to harass us?"

Alexa gave a deep sigh and nodded. "And now we come to the conspiracy part. No, it wasn't the plan of the warlocks that I counted as such. There is one piece of the puzzle you overlooked. Warlock magic can't affect women. Especially witches. Unless witch magic was incorporated. So someone had to help them out in the first place. And I doubt it was a witch of my former coven."

Tamara leaned forward. "What are you insinuating?"

"For the past decades, there had been witches who complained that we witches grew complacent. Ignoring the warlock threat in our backyards. If a nine-eleven happens in the secret world of the witches-"

"I see," Tamara said. And she meant it. It sounded crazy, but all the facts she had only cemented the speculation. With new resolve, she stood up. "I am sorry, Miss Greene. For what happened to you and what happened to Matt. He sounded brave and didn't deserve this fate. Once this is resolved I will call you."

"Maybe you should call me sooner," Alexa offered. "Strangely enough Candies ability to - what did you call it - dickify only works with direct contact. A small rubber enough to cancel it out. But I may have forgotten a few times to give her any. Every time I uncovered a warlock pack and send Candie to party there. She always comes home with a few additions to her collection."

"I will keep that in mind," Tamara promised. "Miss Greene."

"Miss Russo," Alexa said with a nod back.

Alexa was about to close the door when a tumult made its way down the stairs. She only saw pink heels - towering impossibly high - and a leopard dotted minidress that rushed past her. A high pitched "Love ya Mom. Byeee." came from the outside already.

With a deep sigh, Alexa closed the door. She pinched her nose and closed her eyes for a moment. Then she muttered under her breath a mantra. One she had often spoken before. "Don't be annoyed. Don't be ashamed. Always remember what that ditz did. Else you would be like her."

Andrew walked over to his secretary, while on his way out of the company. He just couldn't help himself. While slapping her butt he gave her some "appropriate words". It wasn't like she could do anything about it. He owned most part of the company and he had a firm grip on it. As he walked into the garage he spotted his Jaguar.

An overpowered beast of a car. "Just like me," he thought.

Speeding out to the street he thought about where to next. Being a bit early, he decided to head over to one of his favorite haunts, a strip club that knew him well by now. Lost in thought he noticed too late that he was driving too fast and approached an intersection with nearly seventy miles. He slammed the break, his tires screeching. He wildly steered as to avoid the schoolgirls just crossing the road. Everything turned abruptly black as he slammed into another car.

*****

Andrew groaned. He had a killer headache and everything hurt. As if he had slept on a raw plaster walkway. Opening his eyes he noticed he wasn't that far off. He was on the pavement in the streets of some bombed-out city.

He also was cold and as he looked down he screamed. His flesh was dirtied and scrapped, but that was not what shocked him. To Andrew's horror, he saw big fleshy lumps on his chest: breasts. And massive ones. He screamed till his lungs gave out. All too fast he gulped for air.

Looking over his body he saw what he dreaded. An all-female body and one he would be drooling over not long ago. Besides his massive tits, he had wide hips and long legs. Dainty arms and hands. He dreaded the thought of what his face might look like.

Suddenly a chipper voice startled him from behind. "Oh good. You are awake."

He turned around and spotted the person speaking. A mid-twenty-looking woman. Her build was attractive but too modest for Andrews liking. What threw him off was the slight coppery skin, the two small horns on her forehead, and the slowly swishing tail. All in all, she was the picture of a devil or imp, if it wasn't for her modest physical assets and her very proper no-nonsense business suit.

"Now that I have your attention: welcome to hell! I know. I know. It's a bit cold around here for hell. Well, I asked the infernal designer of this place and he assured me it was on purpose."

The chipper voice of the imp, or whatever she was, bothered Andrew to no end. Quickly he gathered his wits. "Don't be intimidated and act from a position of strength," he repeated his favorite mantra a few times in his head.

The first thing was to stand up and look in control. Then he could deal with that annoyance. Andrew tried standing up only to fall face-first down again. It was as if his muscles refused to work. Over his groaning of his pain, he could hear her again.

"Oh, honey don't do that. I was just about to warn you. You see you are weak. I mean you always had been weak. Mentally that is. But now your body matches it. You see, you are naked. And naked means weakness. Just like the strippers you used to ogle. Well, now you are in their shoes. Or not as you aren't wearing even that. What a naughty girl you are!"

Andrew sat up and looked through tangled dirty strands of hair at the annoying creature before him. "Just shut up will'ya!" he shouted.

"Oh, honey don't be like that. I know. Let's be quick and finish some forms and I'll be out of your hair. Deal? By the way, you really need to wash those. It looks like some birds nested in there and then died. So okay. Name?"

She pulled a pad and pen out of thin air and looked patiently at Andrew. By now he was fairly done by just about everything and would do anything to get rid of her. Maybe then he could figure out the mess he was in. "My name is Andrew. Andrew Miller."

She paused and looked up. "Sugarplum. Sweety. That won't work. Look at you. You are clearly a woman. And Andrew is such a male name. Oh, I know." She looked into Andrew's eyes with a sudden intense gaze and demanded. "Tell me the most female and degrading name you can think of."

Andrew tried to resist but soon his mouth opened and it spilled out of him. "Tiffy. There was that girl named Tiffany at the strip club, but because she was such a ditz and bimbo everyone started to call her Tiffy." Gasping for air he wondered why he had told her. He didn't want to, but he couldn't deny those eyes.

"Hmm, Tiffy. Perfect! And maybe you get an epiphany in due time. Not that it would help you. Okay. Okay. Here we go. Listen up. Your name now is Tiffy. Just Tiffy. No surname. From now on you are Tiffy and a woman. Got it?"

Tiffy was annoyed and shouted back. "Listen I don't know what you think you can do, but I am still Tiffy. Wait. No. I mean I am Tiffy. What did you do? I am Tiffy and I am born a girl! No argh. Make it stop!" Tiffy started to cry. She always thought crying was for the weak, but now she just couldn't help herself. In her mind, she knew she was meant to be a man. That this was wrong. Yet out loud her mouth betrayed her.

"Oh, my. Oh, my. Another one that broke down. There. There, Tiffy. Come now. Let's finish this. Look, you are now in hell. For all the misdeeds you have done. But we don't forget the good things you did. We even reward them. Now let's see. Oh damn, the list is short. You had been a bad girl Tiffy. So okay, while you were driving into your doom and crashed you avoided some schoolgirls, and hmm you once helped your elderly neighbor bring out the trash. That's it. Really that's it? Oh, Tiffy, you ain't giving me much to work with. Okay, let's see. For the granny some grannies. Panties that is."

The imp circled her finger above her head in the air and a short moment later a white granny pantie landed on Tiffy's head. Still, red-eyed Tiffy took and looked at it. The panties looked old and worn down. Once white they now had a slight yellow tint to them and a few holes that might be by hungry moth or daily wear.

As the imp spoke again Tiffy looked up. "Now for the school girls. Maybe a skirt? Hmm but that won't help you go somewhere fast right? Like your fast driving to the strip club, right? Oh, I have it." Again she circled her finger above her head and with some thump, a pair of shiny stripper heels dropped before Tiffy.

Tiffy's knowledge of shoes didn't reach far. She knew they were high and from what she has heard from strippers very uncomfortable if worn longer. They were clear see-through. Maybe some kind of latex. With a plateau of maybe two inches and heels she guessed between seven and eight inches.

"I- I can't wear these. They are so high." Tiffy didn't know when her voice became so whiny. Was it when she woke up as a woman? Or later? She hated it. She used to be such a manly woman. Rubbing her forehead she wondered why even in her mind she couldn't think of herself as anything but female. Frustrated she kicked the heels away, scuffing her feet and leg up more in the process.

"Are you sure honey? These are brand new. No? Well sucks to be you I guess. But then it's supposed to be like this. Remember you are in hell. So make the best out of it. Spoilers though. It won't be much. Being hell and all. Oh, don't look at me angry like that. There is only one person you have to thank for all of this. Yourself. And believe me. All I am here for is to help you. Anyways. That concludes our business. Have a nice stay. Toddles."

One moment the imp was there and the next Tiffy was alone. Still sitting where she did fall over. Now she felt lost. She used to be in control, but now what? So out of everything familiar she just felt lost. Looking around her she saw nothing but rubble, pavement, and those ridiculous stripper heels. Suddenly angry she picked up those boots and threw them as far she could. Which was about three or four feet, weakened as she was. Just behind a small pile of junk. Out of sight and good enough for Tiffy.

She waited a bit more but nothing happened. Then she tried again to stand but quickly lost strength. Her bum against the cold ground she remembered the panties. Just an arm's length away. Better than nothing, she thought and grabbed them.

Slowly sliding them up her shapely legs she felt sudden warms. When she pulled them up completely Tiffy felt something else: strength. Not much but a little. She didn't know how but she knew she was stronger. With shaking legs she stood up again. It worked. She did walk a few shaky steps and collapsed again. Her muscles ached and her breath was ragged as if she had just run a marathon. She recalled what the imp had said. Clothes give strength here. Tiffy knew she needed to find more. Looking around she spotted a building that was not as damaged as the rest.

Maybe there some cloth could have survived whatever happened to this city, she thought.

Gathering her strength she stood up and walked a few steps. Then she rested a few moments. She repeated this a few times before something startled her. Voices!

A moment later two women came around a nearby corner. As soon as they spotted Tiffy one squealed in delight. "Look, Mercedes, a newcomer!" Both walked over where Tiffy was catching her breath. "Good spotting Amber and look, she is pantie-clad! Hey, newbie. Hand over the pantie."

Tiffy looked shocked at them. She couldn't. This old pantie was the only thing she had. She looked up with pleading eyes and opened her mouth to speak.

A strong slap made her head spin around and hit the pavement hard. "Spare me the crap.", one of them said.

Tiffy barely heard her. Her ears still ringing. Strong hands gripped her legs and held them still. Another pair tucked at her panty and slid it down. With it, the small and only warmth in her world vanished. Tiffy lost it and cried. This was all too much for her.

The same strong hands gripped her jaw and twisted her head till she faced one of her attackers. "You think this is the worst? Bitch you don't even know half of it. Amber come here. Time for this skank to find out that this world is for eating or being eaten."

Tiffy's view narrowed as Amber lowered herself over her. She was shocked, as she saw plum lips of a vagina come closer and closer. Mercedes pried her mouth open with steely fingers.

"Now listen up. You will lick my friend here and you will lick her good. If not we will teach you a lesson you won't forget. In this world, none of us can die. We are already dead! But we can bring you close enough that your body floods you with so much pain that you wish you could."

Sobbing Tiffy started to lick. She had never eaten out another girl. It had always been beneath her. Now she was forced to lick out a girl she didn't know and it was worse than she had imagined. She smelled and tasted every horrible thing she could imagine. Sweat, urine, the dirt and grime from the world around them, and the fishy taste of someone ignoring their hygiene for too long.

Whenever she twisted her head to turn away in disgust the same steel fingers pushed her back in. The spray of foul liquid marked the end as the woman above him exploded in an orgasm. As she lifted herself up Tiffy drew in stale air smelling of sulfur. Yet to her it felt like the freshest air she had ever had.

Her relief was short-lived as the other woman lowered herself down on Tiffy. The ordeal started over and she was glad when she finally felt her body give out and she slipped into unconsciousness.

Tiffy woke up to pain. A lot of it. Weak as she was, she barely managed to roll on her side and almost regretted it. Opening her eyes she saw cuts and bruises all over her body. She felt them too and each time she moved pain flared through her body.

As weak and fatigued as she felt Tiffy wouldn't have minded just lying here and resting. Fear, however, made her move. Are those horrible women still near? Were others? She had to do something. Find a spot to hide or get her hands on something to wear.

She was just about ready to wear anything if it helped to make her stronger. To become less of a victim. Her eyes darted to the pile of bricks close by. Behind them, she had thrown the stripper heels. Were they still there? Tiffy had to find out.

Trying to stand up she fell time and time again. She was too weak to even push up her chest for long. Even less so her whole body. Before she had only managed it thanks to the panties.

Out of options, she started to crawl. After each foot she had dragged herself, she had to take a break. Her body was in pain and the rough pavement further tore her skin apart.

Still, she didn't give up. There were worse pains. She was sure of it. This hostile world held so much hidden that it scared Tiffy to no end. Slowly she made her way to the pile of rubble. The long journey away from the pile felt a hundred times worse on the way back without the old granny panties.

Finally, she heaved herself over the rough bricks and she cried in relief as she spotted the heels still being there. They got slightly dirtier from the rubble, but still looked brand new.

Eagerly she grabbed the closest one and pulled it close. For a moment she cradled it like a newborn. This was her ray of hope. A chance to become strong again.

It took her a lot of will to let go and instead to try wearing them. She opened the zipper on the side of the boot and slowly inched her leg in. It hurt but also felt heavenly as her skin glided over the smooth material. Warmth flared over her calf and eagerly she pushed further inside.

Strength returned to her as she closed up the zipper. This was it. It was working. Quickly she grabbed the other boot and sighed. More pleasant warmth spread through her.

After gathering her strength she pushed herself up. Tiffy grinned as she was standing again. These boots felt great. Better than the pantie. Still, she knew she had to expand. To dress herself up. No matter what she would find she knew she would wear it. Be it humiliating or uncomfortable. All that was counted was to gain strength. She vowed to get back at those other girls. To get her panties back. To raid that and more. This was hell and Tiffy vowed to remind every other soul lost here of that fact.

Confident she took a step forward and promptly lost her footing. As she crashed down Tiffy felt a little amount of the warmth slip away. A moment later she saw the reason. Her right boot had some new scrapes and was dirtier than before. It looked like her pantie raid had to wait. Once again she had to learn how to walk. Grumbling she stood up. It might take some time. The irony wasn't lost on her. In hell she had no time to spare or someone might find her, but at the same time, she had all the time in the world. After all, she would be here an eternity.

The End.

Narook's legs were heavy by the time he reached his destination. There was nothing else on his mind than to get a good meal and then off to bed. But the traveling bard still had to stop and appreciate the sight before him. Narook had heard plenty of tales about the Dragon's Hoard tavern. Yet standing before it was another beast altogether.

It wasn't uncommon for taverns and inns to pop up along travel routes. However, they usually were close to settlements. The farther away from civilization, the smaller they tended to be. Not so the Dragon's Hoard tavern. Yes, it was at the junction of three popular merchant roads, but the closest settlement was two days by horse ride. By all means, the tavern should be at most a small ramshackle thing. Not the four-story building with quite a few auxiliary buildings to boot. It made no sense, yet it was here. All because of a legendary reputation. Now, Narook could find out how much of it was true.

The closer he walked, the less Narook could find the term tavern fitting. Normal taverns didn't have stables that could house fifty beasts. Through the open doors of a barn, he saw barrels wide as a man was tall and large crates of produce. The "tavern" appeared to be a settlement onto itself.

He could hear the animated shouts of customers far from the entrance and pushing through the doors didn't disappoint either. The tavern was filled to the point of bursting. Not every patron had their own seat. Some had to stand or lean against the wall. Over the hundred voices of people eating, drinking, and talking, Narook could barely hear the bard that was on the stage. It was enough to know that he could do better.

What drew his attention were the tavern wenches. Narook had heard the rumors, yet seeing them was different. One we chose hurried past with yellow skin and orange hair. The next he spied had dark blue skin and her mane was of turquoise color. More and more, he picked up on the unusual staff that ran the establishment. Just as the rumors had said, they all looked human with the exception that they had brightly colored skin and hair. Narook had seen dyes, makeup, and other methods in theaters. None looked as natural as these fine ladies.

At last, he tore his gaze away and walked to the bar. It was even busier here and Narook saw several of the exotic women fill drinks and entertain guests. If rumors were right, most of them would spend the night with a customer. Provided they had enough coins. To his relief, Narook saw a sign with "rooms" written on it. It led him to a small reception desk that was - for the moment - not besieged by a guest.

The lady staffing it had deep purple skin and hair that started as lavender at its roots and faded to pure white at the tips. As soon as he walked close, he dreaded the usual question: "What the hell are you supposed to be?" Then he had to explain once more that he was half Human, a quarter Orc, and a quarter Goblin.

She looked at him once, smiled, and asked: "A room for the night?" For a moment, Narook was stunned. That was a departure from the norm. As he failed to answer, the exotic beauty before him gave him a thorough look up and down. Surely now, she would ask. "Oh, you are a traveling bard?" Again, Narook's expectations were avoided. "I am sorry to say, but the earliest a spot available on the stage will be in two days. We get a lot of bards."

"I heard. Sorry. I failed to introduce myself. Narook the bard." He gave an elegant bow that elicited a small giggle from the purple-skinned beauty. "Yes, for the start a room for two nights. Then, I hope I can bargain for a deal. I'd love to perform in this tavern. We bards are good at telling tales in taverns. But rarely do we hear tales of taverns themselves."

The receptionist gave him a bright smile. "Ah, the mysteries of our tavern. I am afraid we keep our secrets close to our chest. And those who find out-"

"Regret doing so?" Narook volunteered.

"Oh, no. Let's just say, they all swear to keep them too."

Yes, Narook had come to unravel the mysteries of the Dragon's Hoard tavern as much as he wanted to perform her. The first mystery currently smiled at him. It was a generous and honest smile. Lacking any ill intent. For once, he had met someone who didn't judge him by the color of his skin. And yet, right now, he was itching to ask about hers. He could name no species or origin that boasted purple skin. Or any other color of the wenches that served in this tavern.

In the end, Narook paid a few coins and got a key to a room. Good food and a warm bed beckoned him. The mysteries of the Dragon's Hoard tavern had to wait for another day.

---

Narook waited impatiently at the edge of the stage. Finally, the bard before him was done with his set. Narook didn't know why that bard had even bothered. The lively tavern room had drenched out the bard's instrument and voice alike. Now it was Narook's turn. Would he do better?

No one paid him any attention as he walked onto the stage. Narook didn't mind. He wasn't ready yet. It gave him time to tune his lute one last time. As he finished, he neither played it nor began a song. Instead, he whistled. It was a haunting tune. One only he could perform. It cut through animated talking, boasting, and the sound of cutlery used. One by one, the patrons turned to him. Wondering where the strange melody came from.

Narook had been judged by his looks alone for all his life. The strange mix of species to his detriment. But it all fell away when he made music. Goblins had small pointy teeth. Quite unlike humans. The teeth of orcs resembled those of humans but had large tusks in the corners of their mouths. Narook had a mixture of it all. Small tusks and tapered teeth that had small gaps between each other. Those gaps helped Narook to whistle like no other.

As he held the attention of most of his audience, Narook started to play his lute. It complemented his whistling for a little spill before he switched to singing. Narook could sing nearly any song of human culture. A few by Elven or Dwarven kind. And he knew that his audience had heard them before. None of them were special or stood out. But through his mother, he had heard the songs of the Orcs. Through his father, he knew Goblin tunes. A little adjusted and translated for his audience, Narook could offer something few bards could. Not just a song the audience had never heard of before, but a whole style of singing unfamiliar to them.

He held their attention for three songs. Then, he switched to an old tale told from Orc to Orc. Passed down by generations. Yes, he had to adjust the names. Tweak the settings so normal humans could follow along. Not too foreign. Humans don't like that. To finish his turn on the stage, Narook sang two more songs. When he left the stage, quite a few patrons came forward to honor him with coins. But it was a woman who held his attention. Up on the second floor, she leaned against the railing that overlooked the room. Her skin was bright red and her hair a deep pink. She stood out like no other. There was an urge to seek her out, but the moment he could excuse himself from the tavern patrons, she was nowhere to be seen.

---

Three days later, Narook finished his eighth and final set. The deal had been for four days with two sets each. It was time to move on. By now, the novelty of himself and his songs had vaned. Sure, caravans left and arrived within these days, but most had their fill of Narook's talents. The tips he garnered weren't what they had been at the start.

Before leaving the Dragon's Hoard tavern behind, Narook had one more evening. His last chance to unravel some of the tavern's mysteries. Each night he had availed himself of the company of one of the tavern wenches. The coins were well spent on them. But he left with more questions than answers. There was more than the unusual color of skin and hair. One had a tail that reminded him of a lizard. Another had small claws instead of nails. Diminutive horns on the forehead, pointy ears, or even wings growing out of the shoulders. However, no matter what unique feature they had, Narook hadn't found one common nominator. They all had patches of scales. Just never in the same spot.

To his surprise, he saw Latanna waiting for him as he stepped off the stage. The purple receptionist he had met on his first day. She had avoided his advances up until now. Not even for coin he had been able to bed her. Maybe now was his chance.

"Latanna." He gave a polite bow. "What can I do for you?"

A mischievous smile decorated her face and for a moment, Narook thought he might get lucky with her, after all. "Your songs and tales are quite unique. I'd love it if our boss would hear your songs. But before that can happen, you need to speak to our manager. She is waiting upstairs and I am here to fetch you."

The elusive boss. Narook had heard of him. Never his name. Just whispered mentions between wenches. When they thought no one was listening. With such a popular tavern running, the owner must be quite wealthy. Of that, Narook was convinced. And if he did well, maybe he could glean some insight into the tavern's secrets.

"Lead the way," Narook suggested.

For the first time, Narook was allowed into the hallways reserved for the staff of the tavern. He caught glimpses of a large kitchen. Of storage rooms and laundry area. All of them were quite mundane and nothing he deemed worthy of inspection.

The office was small. Besides a table and two chairs, there was not much space for amenities. The owner of the office was Narook's second surprise of the day. The same red woman with pink hair he sometimes spied up on the second floor now sat opposite of him.

"Mister Narook," she greeted him warmly. "Please, take a seat. Have some ale."

Narook did as told. He raised his cup but waited to drink from it. "With pleasure. But please tell me, whose company am I sharing?"

"I go by Korinda these days." Lifting her own cup, she gave a small salute with it and took a swig. "Has Latanna said why you are here?"

As his hostess drank, so did Narook. He was pleasantly surprised by the ale. It appeared to be one of the finer vintages. Even if the aftertaste was a little bitter.

"She mentioned something about performing for the owner." Narook contemplated savoring the ale a little more but decided against it. Taking one more quick sip, before continuing on. "However, she was sparse on the details." Narook wanted to say more, but a wave of drowsiness flooded over him. Maybe the ale was stronger than it tasted or his last set had taken more out of him than usual.

"More than one performance," Korinda corrected. If she noticed Narook's laps in attention then he couldn't pick up on it. "Latanna had a more permanent position in mind. She has chosen you as her gift to the boss."

"Gift?" Narook stood up and immediately wished he hadn't. The room started to spin. Strange as he normally was very good at holding his liquor. Despite the tiredness, his anger burst worth. "Sorry, but I ain't available for slavery."

He turned to leave, but only managed one step. The strength left his body and he barely managed to sink to his knees instead of falling. Something was wrong. Very much so.

"Oh, we don't do slavery," Korina assured him. Narook barely heard it. Like a sack of potatoes, he collapsed on the floor. The last thing he heard was Korinda's voice again. "However, we aren't above forceful recruitment."

Then, darkness claimed him.

---

When Narook awoke it was after many failed attempts. He had drifted in and out of wakefulness. Vaguely he remembered being carried up a mountain. How the mouth of a cave swallowed him. Or had that been just sleep reclaiming him?

What woke him now was the steady rain of things on him. Some more firm. Others as light as a feather. Still groggy, Narook sat up. He needed a moment to take in the sight and understand it. Behind glass walls, he saw tavern wenches busy with work. Stirring large pots with boiling water. By their colors, Narook could tell that he hadn't seen these wenches before.

Others carried ingredients inside. Most of those appeared to be herbs, spices, and alchemical agents. The person sorting these on a large table was familiar to Narook. Purple skin and lavender to white hair. Latanna had lured him into a trap and now, she was involved in whatever this was.

An onion landed on his head and Narook looked up. "Sorry," Another wench shouted before dumping more of them down. Now that Narook's attention was on his immediate surroundings, he noticed that his prison was anything but usual. The glass wall was all around him. Even underneath. As if he was in a giant glass bottle. The bottom of it was full of vegetables, herbs, and strange powders. The neck of the bottle was wide enough for Narook to shimmy out. However, it was out of reach and a metal grid was clamped over it. Narrow enough that he couldn't squeeze through, but wide enough to let a tavern wench rain down ingredients on him. To do so, she stood on a ladder that leaned at his glass.

"Hey! What are you doing? Let me out!"

The wench on the ladder ignored him but turned towards her friends. "Hey, Latanna. Your gift woke up."

The purple wench grabbed two small vials from the table and walked over. "Morning Narook. Did you sleep well?"

"What is this madness?" he demanded. "Let me out."

"We will. You can be sure of that. But you are not ready yet." Latanna lifted up both vials. "See these? Both contain long-lasting potions. I'll be lowering both into your jar in a moment. I highly recommend you drink them."

"Why would I do that?" Narook shouted while hammering at the glass with his fists. Not that he made any progress. He wasn't even scratching the surface. Let alone shattering it. "I've had enough of being drugged."

"See these pots behind me? Those with the boiling water." Latanna gave him a nonchalant shrug. "We'll be dumping those into your jar soon enough."

Narook's blood drained from his face. "You want to boil me alive?"

"Of course not!" Latanna exclaimed all smiles. "This potion here has a long-lasting fire resistance effect. As a side effect, you will be able to resist high temperatures. Isn't that neat?"

"No, it isn't!" Narook continued to punch against the glass. Now even more desperate than before. "Let me out of here! I don't know what I did to offend you, but can't we talk about it?"

"Oh, you didn't offend us." Latanna casually walked closer while tying strings around the necks of the potions. In the background, one of the boiling pots was lifted in the air by mechanics. Only now Narook noticed the rail on the cavern's ceiling. It was rather foreboding that they all lead to his oversized jar. A knock on his glass drew Narook's attention back to Latanna. "Hey, are you listening to me? It is important. See that pot? All three will fill up your jar. If you don't wanna drown, you need this second potion. It will give you the effect of water breathing. Got it? You need to drink both to survive."

As Latanna lowered the potions down into his jar, Narook practically snatched them from the strings and drank them one after another. He had no idea why they had targeted him. And the closer the pot of boiling water came, the more desperation filled Narook. He only knew one thing. He wasn't ready to die yet. Those potions might be the only thing that could keep him alive.

As the pot arrived at the jar, Narook hoped - preyed too - that the potions had taken effect. "Oh, this will gonna hurt!" he exclaimed, just as the pot was tipped. Near boiling water splashed into his jar as a forceful stream. Narook tried to avoid it, but it was impossible. The water splashed against his skin. He had expected to be harmed by it. To feel excruciating pain. Much to his surprise, it was tolerable. Like the waters of a hot spring. Uncomfortable hot at first, but one could get used to it. As the water filled slightly more than a third of the jar, it ironically reminded him of a bath.

"See? That wasn't that bad."

Narook refocused on Latanna. "Is this some kind of joke to you? Why are you doing this? Let me out!"

"Why? To make you one of us."

"I have no intention to- Oh, no." The next pot arrived and dumped more water into the jar. It was enough that Narook had to tread water to stay above the water line. His feet had lost contact with the ground. "Fuck you and your cult!"

"Cult? Not really." Latanna was awfully casual for someone attempting to drown someone. Except he had drunk a potion of water breathing. Even submerged, Narook wouldn't drown. As if she had read his mind, Latanna leaned against the jar. "Just don't fight it. It's gonna happen no matter what. You're just making it hard on yourself."

The logical part of Narook's mind told him that Latanna was right. He saw no way to fight it and win. Maybe it was the Orc part of him that just couldn't give up. To let them win. Narook would fight each step. Even if his life didn't depend on it.

The last pot of boiling water arrived. Narook had only seconds to brace himself for the next load of water. The pot tilted and Narook's world lost the last of breathable air. His captors didn't even stop when his jar was full. Letting most of it spill along the sides. As soon as the last pouring was done, Narook swam upwards. Trying to dislodge it. To no avail. It didn't even budge a little. The sturdy metal mesh was receded into the jar and claws that reached around the jar's mouth prevented any dislodging.

Then, Narook's lungs started to burn. He was running out of air. He knew that all he had to do was to breathe in. Let the water into his lungs. The potion of water breathing would do the rest. But letting go was hard and Narook fought on until he nearly passed out. Only then did he let go and swallowed the water. Letting it fill his lungs. It felt strange. Harder than normal breathing. Each gasp moved water in and out.

Narook needed a few moments to get used to it. To fight his instincts down. Having water in one's lungs wasn't normal. As he floated suspended in his jar, Narook could make out Latanna. She said something, but the water around him made it difficult to understand. By the way she acted, she probably thought Narook had given up. That, he couldn't have.

His next plan of action was to try to tip the jar. He tried to get it oscillating. A plan that would have worked better when the jar hadn't been filled with water. Not only was the jar now heavier, but he also couldn't move very fast. In the ten minutes he tried, Narook couldn't see even a little progress. He wanted to keep on trying, but exhaustion made him stop. Not just the movement in the water was sapping his strength. Breathing water did its part.

As he calmed down, Narook noticed that the water was misty. All his stirring had agitated the many vegetables, herbs, and other flotsam his captors had dumped in the jar. But as he stopped moving and the flotsam settled down, the water didn't become much clearer. In fact, he could see a kind of mist diffuse into the liquid.

Tea. They are making tea with him. That was his first thought. The herbs fit the speculations. But not the vegetables. He saw onions and black carrots. It reminded him of something. When he was little his mother had filled jars with vegetables. She had added herbs too. And then, she filled the jars with a hot mixture of water and vinegar until all the ingredients had been covered. Pickling, she had called it. A way to make food last longer. Narook tried to remember. Had he smelled vinegar in the water? He couldn't recall.

Was he food to them? No, Narook discarded the notion. If that were the case, why would they give him potions to ensure his survival? None of it made sense to him. Why him? What was the purpose of sticking him in this jar? And what awaited him at the end of this ordeal?

Narook had no idea. That didn't stop him from trying to escape again. Again and again, he rattled against the metal grid trapping him inside the jar. It didn't budge even a little. At last, his exhaustion and the warm water pulled him away into a deep slumber.

---

Narook woke up a few times. Never for long. Despite everything, floating in this water mix was a little relaxing. By now, the water had cooled down, but Narook couldn't really complain. It was warm enough to lull him back to sleep time and time again.

Every time he did wake up, the fluid around him had become more and more cloudy. He had to float close to the glass to still look out. Not that there was much to see. The cavern was abandoned by his captors. Leaving behind empty pots. He wondered if they had forgotten him. But there were changes that he noticed and distracted him from his worries. His skin tingled. Every day a little more. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, but he wondered what was happening to him.

Now, he woke up to muted sounds and lights that made their way through the murky water. Getting to the edge of his glass, Narook saw new activities outside. A few of his colorful captors brought in heaps of ingredients. Bushels of herbs and spices. Even small quantities of crystals and gems. Others were busy emptying buckets of water into the three large pots that were once again placed on large flames.

A familiar figure walked over. Narook recognized Latanna. Agitated, he hammered against the glass, but somehow his heart wasn't into it. As if the fire of his righteous anger was just kindling now.

"Look who is awake." Narook could barely make out Latanna's words. The glass was thick and the water distorted every word. "I guess that means we can proceed."

Narook wondered how she would do that. Judging by all the ingredients gathered, he doubted it was to release him. But there was the small hope that maybe Latanna had picked a new victim and was done with him.

It was evident that Latanna needed help with the next step as she gathered a few more of her ilk. They swarmed around his giant glass jar and Narook couldn't follow all their work. The water was too murky for that. Then, a slight tremor went through the jar and his world started to shift. Discolored water started to run down the jar and then scaled up to a miniature waterfall as the glass was slowly tipped. Narook braced for it to fall over, but whatever Latanna and the rest had done prevented it from tipping too rapidly.

As water vacated the jar, Narook suddenly found himself breathing fresh air. Or at least, he tried. The rest of the water in his lungs made it difficult. He had to heave a few times to get it all out and then took the first few breaths of air. It wasn't fresh. Now that he paid attention, he definitely could smell vinegar in the air. The stench was everywhere or maybe it just clung to his skin.

Having caught his breath, Narook noticed that the jar laid on its side. Latanna waved from beyond the metal grate to get his attention. "Congratulations on finishing your first ride. Now, we can proceed, but I need to know. Do you want the hard way again or are you up for the easy one?"

Narook sat down in the ankle-deep water that remained among piles of old ingredients. For a moment, he remained quiet. It sounded like his ordeal was far from over. He could try brute force again. Not that it helped him previously. Not even a little. Clearly, Latanna wasn't impressed by it either. He doubted they would let him out no matter how hard he howled for his freedom. Maybe, just maybe, the easy way was faster.

"What's the easy way?" Narook asked.

"Well, we need that jar clean." Latanna tossed a few things into his jar. It looked like wash rags. "You can push all the old stuff out and help clean up the inner surface. If you manage that to our satisfaction, then we can proceed."

Narook contemplated it for a few seconds. "And the hard way?"

Latanna shrugged. "We turn your jar over. Again and again. Filling it with water and then dumping it until we are satisfied. Takes a lot of time and I doubt it will be pleasant for you either."

"Fine!" Narook showed that he relented by shoving the first piles of old vegetables toward Latanna. Whatever he managed to push past the metal grid was taken away by eager helpers.

It was the third of these pushes of stuff that Narook noticed something strange. Was it just his imagination or did his arms slim down a little. They did feel softer upon close expectation. Now that he was aware, Narook started to spot other changes. His skin always had a tint of green to it. Courtesy of his unusual heritage. But it looked darker now. Not tanned or greener. Narook likened it to getting his hands stained by handling coal. Just all over his body.

Reaching up, he could feel his hair being longer. Normally it reached to his shoulders and he tied it with a small leather ribbon. Now, it reached down to his shoulder blades. There might be more volume than normal too, but it was hard to tell as it was wet and clung to his body.

Other changes were harder to tell. His legs might be slightly slimmer. Not his hips and tights, though. They appeared to be slightly thicker. The one positive thing he could see was that he had lost the slight belly fat he had started to accumulate. Making his waist appear smaller and fitter. Now if whatever they did would have gotten rid of the rest of his torso fat, his chest might look better. Up top, it now looked a little puffy. Like two small mounds just under his nipples. In fact, it looked a little like-

"Hey! Don't fall asleep on us!" Latanna's shout drew Narook's attention from himself. "There is plenty of time for that latter. Now, get scrubbing."

"But-"

"Later," Latanna insisted.

There were many questions on Narook's mind and it appeared that all the answers were elusive. For now, he pushed away that his body got slightly weirder and continued to empty out the jar. Maybe if he did do a good job, Latanna might be more willing to answer them.

As soon as the jar was cleared out and cleaned, it was heaved upright by a mechanism Narook only now noticed. Immediately some of the helpers placed ladders at the side and started to fill his limited space with ingredients again. It was clear to Narook that he had to endure yet another stint submerged in pickling fluid, herbs, and spices. He saw the water and vinegar mixture starting to boil in the pots and Latanna returned with two vials. Just like the first time he had gone through the ordeal. This time Narook was calm and knew he would survive the procedure. The questions were if he would change more and to what end.

"I have questions!" Narook said as Latanna lowered the vials down to him.

"Not yet," Latanna rebuffed him. "Later."

Narook couldn't wait anymore. "Am I food? Is this some crazy cannibal preparation?"

Latanna chuckled and turned back to her prisoner. "What makes you say that?"

Narook pointed at the pots of boiling water and vinegar. "I know what that is for. Or these herbs and vegetables. You are pickling me and pickling is for food."

Latanna gave him a small clapping of her hands. "Well done. Not many figure it out so soon. No, no one of us will be eating you." She gave the pots a short look and decided there was some time for Narook. Even if it was just a little. "The boss - our master - traveled a lot in his youth. He witnessed strange habits among us humans. Well, strange to his kind. The brewing of potions was intriguing to him, but he found the duration to be too limited. That changed when he stumbled upon pickling. If you boil it down - sorry for the pun - it is a means to transfer attributes from sacrificial ingredients to others. Those then are altered. Transformed, really."

Who or what was their boss exactly. Not a human. That was for sure. There was a more urgent question Narook had on his mind. "And what will I become once this is done?"

Latanna gave another look at the pots. The first one was raised up. Ready to traverse the ceiling-mounted railing toward Narook's jar. "You better drink those vials if you want to find out," she said, before stepping down the ladder.

Narook cursed. He was running out of time. With haste, he downed the contents of both vials. He didn't look forward to what came next. The pot arrived and pitched. Boiling pickling fluid rushed down. This time, Narook was prepared. As before, the temperature didn't hurt him. Thanks to those vials. As the first pot moved away, Narook stood in a soup that reached up to his waist. Latanna and her goons had placed more stuff in his jar. It would get crowded once it was filled up.

The second pot arrived and emptied its contents. Leaving not a lot of air left and making Narook paddle to stay afloat again. Already seeing the third pot on its way, Narook made a decision. Diving down, he tried to go for a smoother transition than last time. Forcefully breathing out and letting water into his lungs. It was still rough and Narook had to fight off the upcoming panic. He even missed as the third pot emptied its contents.

Once calmed down and adjusted, Narook floated gently in his glass. If he was honest, it didn't feel that bad. The warmth flooded through him and gently tucked at his will to stay awake. He fought off sleep long enough to witness Latanna's people clean up and vanish into the depth of the tunnels. Leaving him alone. The only company he had were the many little ingredients that floated around him.

Now that he had Latanna's little history lesson, Narook could spot some ingredients of potion making. Those most common that even laymen like him recognized them. The last thought was about Latanna and her people. Had they all been through the same process? He guessed pickling with magical ingredients might explain their vibrant skins. But if so, was he the first man to go through it? So far, he hadn't seen any other. Neither in the tavern nor in the cavern. Something about that struck him as strange, but sleep claimed him before he could untangle that mystery.

---

Narook awoke several times in the next few days. Each time, he felt stranger. More sensual. Narook reasoned it must be the tingling he felt all over his skin. Probably the extracts of the ingredients seeping into it. It was, for sure, pleasurable. He couldn't help but explore his body. Let his hands roam over his skin. Exploring altered limbs and body.

The previous changes he had noticed appeared to become more pronounced. His butt had never been something to write home about. Now, it started to become shapely. Maybe too much for a man. As were other changes. Most of all the little mounds on his chest grew. It did not take long for Narook to figure out why. His body became more and more female in nature.

It might have been a worrying thought. Who likes to lose their gender. The very body they grew up with and were comfortable with. However, floating in the pickling juice, Narook barely cared. Maybe they added something to this batch to help him relax. Or it was the fact that it felt so damned good. The change was also inevitable. He had tried fighting it. To break out of his jar. Nothing had helped. He wouldn't escape. There was nothing but accepting the change and going with it.

Slowly, Narook remembered other details and pieced together other clues. His change into a woman might explain why none of the others were male. Some might have been in the beginning, but they weren't so now. He remembered that Korinda said something about forceful recruiting. So far, Narook didn't feel compelled to join this little menagerie of colorful tavern wenches. He was a bard. Those had traveling in their blood.

Narook was convinced. They might change his body, but they wouldn't change his mind. As soon as they are ready to release him, he'll be out of here. Then, he would expose them all. But then what? Of course, there were female bards. Not many traveled alone. They either preferred fixed gigs in towns or traveled in troupes. Neither appealed to Narook, but he was aware of the irony. If he hadn't traveled alone, they probably would've had a harder time kidnapping him.

---

Waking up to activities around her jar, she knew what was coming. Looking down, her body was nearly completely female. This was it. She might as well get used to being a woman. What little remained of her manhood between her legs was nothing to write home about and probably not functional anymore.

Having noticed her being awake, Latanna made her way over. Orders were shouted and the jar was upended a moment later. The pickling fluid rushed out and the nearly complete gender-bend bard heaved to get all the fluid out of her lungs.

"Come on." Latanna clapped her hands a few times after throwing in some wash rags. "Get to it. You know the drill. Get everything out and then clean the glass from the inside. Or do you want to make trouble again, Narook?"

Latanna's captive chuckled. "All the time you didn't use my name. I thought you had forgotten it. But now, when it isn't correct anymore, you use it."

Latanna quirked an eyebrow and walked closer. "What do you mean?"

"It is Rakine now. No more Narook." Seeing Latanna bemused by the announcement, Rakine chuckled again. "What? It was obvious that you were making me a woman. So, I needed a new name. Rakine it is. Get used to it."

Latanna looked dejected. "But I wanted to name you."

"And what? Give me some silly human name?" Rakine spat to the side. "No. No. No. You may have taken away my gender, but you ain't taking my heritage. Now, go. I have a jar to clean."

A little befuddled, Latanna walked away. It gave Rakine the impulse to let out another laugh. She might be a prisoner and at their whim, but she wouldn't stop fighting. The end result might be inevitable, but Rakine still could influence the outcome.

Before starting the cleaning process, Rakine took a good look at her new body. Without the tinted fluid around her, she could see what it had done to her skin. It had further darkened. Rakine couldn't see any hint of green anymore. Instead, it appeared dark gray. Upon closer inspection, she corrected her observation to purple. A hue so dark the color was barely perceivable. However, she noticed areas that appeared to be lighter in color. She wondered why.

Once Rakine was finished examining herself and cleaning the oversized bottle, Latanna returned. This time with more confidence again. "Time to load you up again," she said as Rakine's jar was lifted upright again. "I hope you aren't squeamish. By now, your body should be ready for stronger ingredients. Those are usually reserved for potion-making. Bat wings, snake eyes, and octopus tentacles. Just to name a few. Some people freak out if they share a jar with the eyes of newts or dried tarantulas."

Rakine scoffed. "I ate dried tarantulas for breakfast. And ate them fried for dinner."

"Okay, then." Latanna turned around. "Fill her up."

Rakine wasn't squeamish, but some of the stuff that landed in her jar definitely was worth avoiding to look at. More than a few slimy things landed on her feet and against her legs. It took a lot of her willpower to not break her confidence. That changed when the first pot of bubbling fluid was on its way to her.

"Latanna! Hey!" Rakine hammered against the glass. Increasingly desperate as the pot neared. Finally, Latanna turned around. "The potions. You forgot the potions!"

Latanna made a show of patting down her tunic. "Oh, you are right. I totally forgot them."

"Then get them!" Rakine shouted. To no effect. Latanna gave her a lazy grin as the pot neared the jar.

By now, Rakine was cursing. Their rude meaning was probably lost to Latanna as Rakine swore in orcish and common greenskin. Nothing helped. The pot tipped and-

Boiling hot water drenched Rakine in seconds. To her surprise, she was fine. The vinegar and water mixture was no less unpleasant than the times she had drunk those potions. It didn't even feel that hot. Even though it had just boiled.

"That face! Priceless." Latanna was slapping her leg and quite a few workers behind her had grins on their faces too. "Did you not pay attention? We pickle people to permanently give them the effects of potions. Congratulations. Now you could sleep on the embers of a roaring campfire or breathe underwater at will."

"You!" Rakine gave her best glare. Directed at Latanna. "You could have warned me."

"Could have." Latanna shrugged. "But why break tradition. The sister who brought me in didn't warn me. No one warned her."

Rakine didn't comment. She just glared. Never breaking from it even as the second pot arrived. Just before it dumped all over her, Rakine made a promise. "I will remember this."

Then her jar was flooded close to the rim. It was time to test out if the second part of Latanna's claim was true. Once again, Rakine made the uncomfortable transition from someone breathing air to someone who breathed water. It was a little rougher than with the potion, but after a minute, Rakine was fine.

As her adrenaline faded away, Rakine knew it was time to rest. To sleep. It would finish her transformation. Of that, Rakine was sure. Then she would be a complete woman. Maybe then, she could finally get out of this cursed jar.

---

As before, Rakine woke up now and then. Whenever she drifted out of slumber, she was aroused. Her skin was so sensible, just caressing brought her pleasure. A climax, however, was denied to her. Each time she checked on the progress between her legs. Witnessed the dwindling of her manhood to nothing but a small nub. She could feel womanly folds forming. At first, they had been nothing but decorative. Rakine couldn't even push a finger in. Something she desperately needed to do.

Then she managed her first orgasm. It was a game-changer. By far better than any she had as Narook. Was it a fair comparison? Probably not. If the sensitivity of her skin was any indicator then her new body was enhanced to feel good. It was cheating and Rakine had to admit it was working. Each time she now woke up, she played with herself until she experienced the next carnal release. She looked forward to it. Craved it. Fantasized about her next lewd act even as she slipped into the next cycle of sleep after her last one.

It might have been two dozen of these awakenings when Rakine noticed Latanna approaching. Her captor knocked on the glass. Drawing the attention of the pickled bard away from her handiwork. At first, Rakine was confused about what Latanna wanted. Her captor performed a weird pantomime. Then it dawned on her. Latanna was here to check up on Rakine. How far she had come as a woman.

Rakine felt surprisingly naughty as she revealed her new inner sanctum. Latanna studied it from outside and it made Rakine chuckle. A hard thing to do when your lungs are full of water. Then, Rakine had a wicked idea. Looking around, she spotted a highland carrot floating by. This variant was known for its bright orange color - the juice often used as a dye - and good flavor. But it needed a lot of boiling to soften up and become chewable. This one was still firm. Despite being soaked in liquid for days now. Maybe even weeks. Rakine had a poor grasp on how much time had passed.

Rakine now used the vaguely phallic shape of the highland carrot to her advantage. Slowly, she inserted it between her lower womanly lips. At once, Rakine knew she should have done it sooner. The girth of the vegetable filled her up so nicely.

She barely registered Latanna chuckling and walking out. Her new toy brought too much pleasure. But the distraction stopped as Latanna returned. She wasn't alone. Half a dozen helpers pushed a flatbed cart into the room. It stopped just before Rakine's jar. In fact, it was the ideal height for Rakine's home of late, to just slide over.

Clamps were undone and her jar was finally freestanding. Now was the time if Rakine wanted to break out. She just had to manage to tip the jar over. Have it shatter on the stone floor and make a run for it. But Rakine didn't move. She was a full woman now. Surely they would release her soon anyways. She also could seriously hurt herself in the escape attempt. For now, Rakine chose to bide her time. That she was curious too might have played a bigger part in her reasoning than she could admit to herself.

It took all six helpers and Latanna to push the jar onto the cart. There, it was secured. Now on wheels, it was a lot easier to move it. Rakine wondered, as she was pushed into a large tunnel, where they would take her. Maybe to some festive area to celebrate her rebirth as a woman? Something like this. Of that, Rakine was sure.

The tunnel opened up to a cavern that put the former one to shame. The rock ceiling was so high up that one could build a small castle inside. Then, Rakine noticed the gold. Like dunes in the desert, golden coins filled the cavern floor. An immeasurable amount of wealth that puts those of kingdoms to shame. It might just be enough to even the combined treasures of all human kings and queens would not come even close.

And then, one of the hills of coins moved. Slowly revealing a hulking figure. Rakine never had met a dragon before. She had told countless stories about them, but this was the first she saw with her own eyes. It was massive. Easily thirty meters long, if Rakine discounted the tail. She couldn't even see where that appendage ended. Large wings unfolded and gave Rakine a spectacular view of the creature before her. Most of the iridescent scales gleamed in bright red, but sways of areas were in silver.

It was a remarkable view. A terrifying one too. Without a doubt, Rakine knew this was the master of Latanna and all the others. The signs had been there. The tavern's name was Dragon's Hoard. Latanna had alluded to the fact that their master was old. Ancient even. And the many different unique features of the tavern wenches made more sense now. But a dragon? Rakine still had a hard time believing it.

Dragons were rare. Solitary creatures that measured millennia as a human might measure a day. They ruled this world long before Humans, Elves, Orcs, Goblins, and all the other species appeared and will do so long after. They were the fabric of many tales and myths. Sometimes as benefactors and sometimes as foes.

The great wyrm fixed its gaze on Rakine who suddenly felt small and unimportant. There was no hiding from it in her jar. No escaping either. Slowly, the creature came closer and Rakine saw Latanna and the others bowing. She decided this might be the smart move and Rakine mimicked it as best as she could.

"Ah, Latanna, what delight do you bring?" The dragon's voice was deep and unusual. A strange harmony as if two people of similar voices spoke at the same time. And despite the liquid all around her, Rakine heard it just fine. As if it had spoken directly in her head. For that matter, Rakine hadn't even seen it moving its lips.

The dragon moved closer. Each step of its massive body caused a light tremble and shook Rakine's jar. Then, it lowered its head and Rakine saw a large eye stare at her.

"Delightful, Latanna. A tasty little morsel."

Rakine's heart beat faster. Morsel? Was she food after all? Latanna had said no one would eat her. No. That wasn't quite right. Latanna had said none of her kind would eat her. That clearly didn't include a dragon.

Deep laughter filled her head. "Oh, don't be frightened, my child. I was joking. Humans aren't to my taste." Another chuckle filled her head. "Though I might eat you out one day."

Eat her out? Rakine was confused. That was impossible. The wyrm's tongue alone must be larger than her entire body. Probably another joke. Not that Rakine appreciated them right now. She was still a little frightened and definitely out of her depth.

"Latanna." The dragon turned away from Rakine, who was glad to not be the sole focus of the creature anymore. "She is ready for my gift and the final stage."

Whatever Latanna answered was swallowed by the liquid around her. After a few shouts by her and the cart carrying Rakine's jar was pushed back into the tunnel. Rakine half expected a repeat of the previous routines. Emptying, cleaning, and filling her jar again. That the dragon had said she was ready for one last stage did mean that she was to go through one more of these ordeals.

But once the jar was in its original place - clamped down again for good measure - Latanna left. Leaving Rakine alone with her thoughts. A dragon. What a reveal. However, Rakine had no idea what implications it would have for her. And while she mused it over, sleep claimed her once more.

By Rakine's best guess, it was two days later that Latanna and her helpers returned. Pots were prepped and more ingredients were carried in. Placed on tables nearby. Then, Rakine's jar was upended.

"One more time?" Rakine asked.

Instead of answering, Latanna gave an amused snort that broke out in unabashed laughter. Apparently, it was so funny, that Latanna had a hard time getting herself under control. Even a few helpers turned around and started to chuckle.

"What?" Rakine demanded. "What's so funny?"

Latanna slapped her legs a few times before calming down again. "Not the best vegetable choice to stuff your hole!" And then Latanna broke out in the next fit of laughter.

Her hole? Right! Rakine had stuffed a highland carrot in her newly formed womanly parts. Just to show Latanna that it was fully formed. But it had felt so nice, Rakine had left it in. Now reminded, Rakine pulled the hardy vegetable out. At once, she regretted the absence but pushed the feeling aside.

Looking down, Rakine's mind needed a few seconds to process what she saw. Her labia were orange. Not just a little. Their bright orange was a stark contrast to the near-black skin she now possessed. A few rubs revealed - aside from a few moans - that this wasn't just juice left from the highland carrot. No, the vegetable had done the same as it was often used for. Dyed something bright orange.

A chuckle formed deep in her throat and Rakine stifled it before it could get out. No, she wouldn't give Latanna the satisfaction. A new plan formed within her. Rakine could use this to her advantage. She inspected the rest of her body. Her skin was now so dark, at first glance it appeared black. But she had many contours that were lighter in color. Nearly silver in appearance. Each transition from light to dark had the faintest hint of purple to it. Overall, it reminded Rakine of a rare stone type she had encountered on her travels: obsidian.

Aside from her skin, Rakine's womanly shape had developed more. Her bust was very generous now. As were her hips and tights. Her waist might be a tad bit too waspish in contrast to her bubbly butt. She knew, at one point, Narook would have minded being this womanly in shape. But Rakine wasn't Narook anymore. She hadn't just changed on the outside. For a while now she had made peace with the fact that she would be a woman for the foreseeable future. Maybe even forever. If so, then she might as well be a knockout of one.

While Latanna was still distracted, Rakine prepared her jar for the next stage of her transformation. Mostly cleaning out her jar until Latanna had calmed down enough to give her rags to clean the last residue from the glass.

"Before we get started, there is a decision to be made." Latanna clapped her hands and helpers flocked over. Some brought tables and positioned them close to Rakine's jar. The others heaved large, but slim wooden cases onto them. As they were opened, their glittery and reflective treasure was revealed.

"Are those-"

"Dragon scales," Latanna confirmed. "Shed by our master and now used as a gift. You've been pickled three times now. All with the same goal. To make you worthy of his gift. If he had offered it sooner, your body would've rejected it. Now, it is ready."

Rakine looked over the cases. Their interior was divided into parts. Some held each a scale as large as the palm of her hand. Others contained smaller scales, but in small quantities. Few resembled the others in shape. Making Rakine guess that they originated from different parts of the dragon.

"Ready for what?" Rakine asked as she looked back to Latanna.

"You may choose one compartment," Latanna explained while holding up a finger to underline her point. "In your next pickling, you can strap them to any body part you wish. And here, the magic starts. The body part or area you chose will be infused with dragon magic. That's right, you will become in part dragon."

Rakine nearly snorted. She had started as half Human, quarter Orc, and quarter Goblin. Since then, she had added one hundred percent woman and three-quarters pickled to the list. And now she could become part dragon to boot. There was some measure of irony there, but Rakine didn't voice out the sentiment.

"Don't make your decision lightly," Latanna warned. "The place you choose will get enhanced. It might transform or give you abilities. It all depends where you strap those scales to and how large they are."

Rakine's first impulse was to point out that she might not want to be part dragon. But deep inside, she wanted it. All that she had gone through had to be worth something. And this was it. Magic that was normally closed off to her kind. Any mortal really. How could she not desire it? Latanna was right. She had a decision to make. One of enormous proportions. Yet she had no clue or reference point to do it.

Rakine studied Latanna. Aside from being purple, she could see no draconic enhancement. "What did you choose? I see no evidence of your transformation. "

Latanna grinned. "Because mine is hidden." Before Rakine could ask for details, Latanna opened her dress and stepped out of it. Now, her draconic change was evident. Her waist was tiny compared to Rakine's and was covered in tiny scales all around. It looked like a garment had fused to her skin. "This is the result of two gifts. Yes, you may earn more later. In fact, if your end result pleases the master, he might bestow me a third. Now, you see my tiny waist, but there is more to it. I can eat like no other. Things no one else dares to eat. The most devilish spices are fine with me. Poison? Don't make me laugh."

Latanna waved over a helper with skin so red, it reminded Rakine of strawberries. "These are kind of small," the helper spoke up and stroked the small horns that grew from her forehead and curved back. "But they are delightful. I can see through them. Not like with eyes. I can perceive magic in its native form. It is all around us. Really beautiful to behold."

The next helper was teal in complexion and turned around to reveal a long tail growing from her tailbone. "I went with a tail. Like a few before me. It did wonders for my sense of balance and now I can pull dance moves like nothing before. Not so much magic abilities, but I don't mind terribly."

More and more helpers came forward and told their choice and experience with it. Some had gone for wings - strapping scales to the shoulders and hoping for the best - and now love how flying feels. But they remark that wings are hard to hide and that public appearances are even harder to do. One had tiny scales around her eyes in a way that reminded Rakine of a domino mask. She didn't even need the explanation. That woman had such piercing eyes that Rakine felt exposed just standing before her.

But none of these resulting gifts spoke to her. She was a bard. Not just by trade, but also by soul. No modification that would keep her from going into crowds would be the right choice for her. Instead, she had to ask herself, what could be improved that was in service of her vocation.

"I take those two slim ones," Rakine said while pointing at her choice. They would do nicely.

Latanna lifted them out like prized possessions made out of gold. As Rakine thought about it, they were probably worth even more. Both were lowered into her jar together with a bundle of twine. Up close, the scales were even more perfect for Rakine's plan than she had thought before. They clearly were a matched pair. Mirrored twins of each other. She lifted them up and smiled as they fit perfectly on her throat. Left and right of her larynx.

Rakine hadn't tried to sing yet in her new form. She always had been out of water for too short of a duration. But if her guess was right, she'll have not just a beautiful voice, but a magical one. Taking the twine, Rakine affixed the scales to her throat. Being careful to pull the twine tight, but not to a degree where she would strangle herself.

"That's an unusual choice," Latanna commented as her helpers closed up the cases.

"I ain't done yet," Rakine remarked. "I need more twine and-"

"You won't get more scales." Latanna looked visibly upset. "They are a gift bestowed by our lord. If you want more, you can earn them later and-"

Now it was Rakine's turn to interrupt. "Highland carrots."

Latanna stopped in her rant. Looking confused. "What?"

"What I wanted to say is that I need more twine and highland carrots." As Latanna needed a moment to snap out of her confusion, Rakine exploited it to make more demands. "Several lengths of twine actually. I need some of the carrots chopped up in slices too. Oh, and white swamp-root."

Now, Latanna grew suspicious. "What for?"

Rakine shrugged. "Get what I ask for and I will show you."

Latanna grumbled something that Rakine couldn't hear but waved for a few helpers a moment later. It took a little while, but her demands were fulfilled.

Under watchful eyes, Rakine got to work. First, of course, she selected a whole highland carrot and sheathed it like before. Filling herself up nicely. She heard a groan from Latanna and chuckles from her helpers, but Rakine ignored it. She started to hunt for those spots and contours that stood out from her dark skin as a lighter shade that was nearly silvery. With care, she selected for each of them a highland carrot of the appropriate size and fixed them right on the spot with twine.

"You want to dye yourself?" Latanna asked.

"Of course," Rakine replied just as she put slices of carrot on her nipples and tied them down. A feat harder than she anticipated. "Black and silver are so boring. And you all are so colorful. I don't want to stand out too much."

Latanna chuckled. "Suit yourself. Give a holler when you are ready."

Once she had all spots covered, Rakine grabbed for the white swamp root. The root looked brown, but Rakine knew the secret of its name. Breaking it open, the middle of the root had a marrow-like consistency. Just the exposure to air made it slowly dry up. Rakine wasted no time. By now, it felt more like wet clay and Rakine carefully used it to encase her teeth. There it would harden and form a protective layer.

Normally, people living close to a swamp used it as a method to not just clean their teeth but also to fortify and bleach them. That's why swamp people had pearly white teeth that rivaled those of aristocracy. Rakine - as Narook - had used it as often as possible, but white swamp-root was hard to get outside of its native habitat.

With this step done, Rakine gave Latanna a thumbs up. She wasn't completely done, but her last step would make speaking impossible. It could wait. By now, what came next was familiar. Pots with a bubbling mixture of water and vinegar made their way over to Rakine's jar. This time, she didn't panic.

Only one more time, she realized. Then, she'd be done. Unless she tried to get more gifts from the dragon. Surely those would need pickling to activate too. But right now, Rakine had no intention of staying. She would take her gift and then take her leave.

Once her glass was full, Rakine exchanged air for water in her lungs. She made sure that none of the many strapped-on highland carrots had shifted. Then, it was time for the last step. Taking one more carrot, she put half of it into her mouth. Not to bite down, but to form a seal around it with her lips. Rakine hoped that by the time she was done, they'd match her other lips down below her waist.

With this last step fulfilled, Rakine settled down. It was time to wait and waiting passed faster if one was asleep.

---

Rakine couldn't even guess how long she had been in the jar. Of all her stints in pickling fluid, this one was the longest. She guessed the dragon scales needed time to activate. It took days before she even felt a change where they touched her skin. It was less of a tingling situation as with the rest of her body. It started with some warmth that radiated to her and gradually grew to a heat. At times, it became uncomfortable, but Rakine didn't dare to remove the scales. She could weather this ordeal as others had before her.

By the time Latanna returned, Rakine was bored out of her mind. A person can only sleep so much. Or fondle herself. Not that Rakine would admit that to anyone. She had tried to pass the time by retelling every story she knew within her mind. Those were quite a lot, but eventually, she ran out. So, the arrival of her tormentor was a welcome sight.

Once more, the jar was upended and the pickling fluid rushed out. Now came one of Rakine's least favorite moments. She forcefully expelled the water in her lungs and tried to take a deep breath of air.

But something was wrong. It wasn't as deep as it should be. Rakine barely got air inside and she desperately tried again. Panic welled within as less and less air made its way into her lungs. She clawed at her throat as if she could open it up and get more air.

Panic broke out as it became clear that Rakine had trouble breathing. It took precious moments to undo the lid that had Rakine inside so long. Latanna and her helpers went inside to retrieve Rakine who fought to stay conscious.

Strangely enough, the closer Rakine came to passing out, the easier it became to breathe. It helped Rakine to fight down her own panic as those around her gave in to it. Something was wrong. Not with her throat. It was as if she had forgotten how to use her lungs.

She concentrated on them. Focusing what little mental capacity she had on them. Her lungs tried to breathe, but not at the same time. That was impossible. But what if it was true?

Somehow, Rakine suppressed the movement of her right lung and with her left lung, she finally managed a deep breath. Then a few more. Once she felt she was fully under control again, Rakine spoke up. "I am fine. Stop panicking." Now that she was paying attention, she saw to her surprise Latanna and her helpers who were furiously mixing a new batch of the pickling liquid. "What are you doing?"

"You are fine?" Instead of waiting for a reply or answering Rakine's question, Latanna rushed over and hugged her. "What happened. We thought you had lost the ability to breathe air or something like that."

Rakine took a few more breaths with her left lug and then stopped. Experimentally trying to breathe with her right lung. That was fine too. "Let's just say I kinda had to learn how to breathe anew. Really weird, but I think I got the hang of it. For now." Rakine nearly laughed seeing Latanna's bemused face. Though she could understand the worry. She appeared to be dying and that was closer to the truth than Rakine would've liked. But to ease her own worries, Rakine had to push on. "Hold on. There is something I had to try."

Once again, Rakine stilled her breathing until both lungs were empty and still. Then, she tried to breathe in deeply with both of them. At once, her throat closed up painfully and Rakine gasped for air. She switched back to one lung and got the needed air while coughing uncontrollably.

Rakine held up a hand to the worried Latanna. She refused to acknowledge the fact that normal breathing was impossible for her now. She tried again. This time, Rakine took the slowest breath she could manage. That turned out to be fine. With each breath, Rakine tried to breathe a little deeper.

It worked fine until she reached a volume she would describe as normal. It actually felt a little strained. As if she had taken a deep breath just before diving. Not stopping there, Rakine increased further, but quickly had to stop. Each breath started to tug at her throat. As if the very act of breathing in threatened to close up her windpipe.

"I think-" Rakine started, but then took a few more moments to gather her thoughts. "My lungs have gotten stronger. Maybe too strong. If I breathe in with all my might, my throat can't handle it." That she somehow could breathe with each lung individually, Rakine kept to herself for now.

Latanna looked at Rakine as if she had grown a second head. "Why did your voice sound so strange just now?"

"Strange?" Rakine asked and immediately noticed it too.

"It is hard to describe," Latanna admitted. "As if there were two of you who spoke simultaneously."

Rakine made the conscious switch to one lung again. "Is it better now?"

"It is. What did you change?"

Rakine purposely shrugged. "Let's just say there are a few more things I have to figure out and get a hang on." Now calmed down, Rakine took in her surroundings. She was finally free from her jar. But she doubted she was in any real condition for a run. For now, she had to play ball with what Latanna had in mind.

But before Rakine inquired what would happen now, she started to undo the many twines she had strapped around her body. At once, she saw that her improvised alteration had worked. Each of her brighter spots was now dyed into a vibrant orange. It contrasted nicely against her near-black skin.

Touching her throat, she felt scales. Not the ones she had strapped against it. Those laid discarded to the side. Latanna must have cut them loose as Rakine had struggled to breathe. These scales also felt smaller. Like finely woven scale mail.

"Can I see?" Rakine asked.

"Sure." Latanna helped her up. She made sure that Rakine could stand on her own feet before continuing. "We have a mirror close by for that very reason."

The mirror in question was a large sheet of polished silver. With such a smooth finish, Rakine had no problem taking in every detail. And there were a lot of details to take in. Narook had possessed an athletic body. Courtesy of many years of wandering the countryside. Traveling from gig to gig. Rakine couldn't say the same. At first glance, her butt, hips, and tights looked enormous but weren't as big as she had feared before. The pickling process clearly had redistributed her body fat. Maybe even added to it.

It would all slim down, she reasoned. Once she hit the road, the many miles traveled would rend down unnecessary fat. The same couldn't be said for her breasts. They were generous. Not as big as Narook had seen on his travels. Definitely larger than he had preferred. But Rakine wasn't Narook anymore and strangely enough, she liked the size. It balanced her proportions. That might change once she slimmed down again.

Now that she was out of the jar, Rakine could admire her handiwork in the mirror. She could claim no part in the purple skin that was so dark, it could easily be mistaken for black and needed close examination to reveal its true color. The orange markings were all her. Patches, stripes, and contours had been dyed by her hand into bright orange. As had been her nipples and lips. The overall pattern flowed naturally and gave her an even more exotic look than the dark skin had given her alone.

As she turned around, Rakine was dismayed to spot one area she had overlooked dying orange. Her displeasure was short. She always could dye it orange in her next dip in a pickling jar. That thought gave her pause. She would be out of here the first chance she got. There would be no next time. So, why had been her instinct to assume there would be?

Fearing the answer, Rakine pushed the thought aside. Concentrating on more details her reflection revealed. She noticed her hair had grown longer and darker inside the jar. Now she saw a raven black mane that reached past her butt cheeks. Still wet with fluid, it still looked quite thick to her. Rakine definitely needed a haircut. Rather sooner than later.

Stepping closer, Rakine examined her new face for the first time. She was beautiful. That she couldn't deny. What flared up her anger was that she could hardly see any facial features of Narook remaining. At least she wasn't a dainty beauty like so many princesses and aristocrats. Hers was a bit harsher and wild.

It was time to reveal if the last part of her gamble had paid off. Rakine peeled off the hardened chunks of white swamp-root from her teeth. It had done its duty and revealed teeth bleached to ivory perfection. What made her really smile was the shape of her teeth. They remained mostly human but slightly tapered at the end. Courtesy of her Goblin and Orc heritage. The small gaps between her teeth remained and Rakine was sure her ability to produce extraordinary whistling would remain.

Maybe it was even enhanced now. From chin to collarbone small scales decorated her skin. They appeared to be black too but had a gleam to them that her skin couldn't match. Looking closely, Rakine wasn't quite sure, but her larynx looked a little strange. Wider? Maybe it was just her imagination as unfamiliar scales covered it. Hopefully, if it had changed, it wouldn't impact her singing.

Stepping away from her reflection, Latanna offered her a towel. "Satisfied. I am. You turned out darker than expected, but that's what experimentation gets you."

Anger flared up in Rakine again. "I was an experiment?"

Latanna gave a dismissive shrug. "We all were. The base formula is solid, but our master likes to explore variations."

"I take it your master is the dragon." Rakine's mind was spinning. If she was to escape, she needed one more detail to make her ordeal a good story. "And by what name does he go by?"

Latanna drew in a breath to answer but then shook her head with a bemused smile. "I could try to pronounce his name, but I fear I would butcher it. Don't worry, he will introduce himself to you."

Rakine gave up drying her long hair. Damp had to do as her towel was now soaked. "What happens now," she asked as she handed the towel back.

"We will get you dressed and then it is time for a proper audience with our master." Latanna gave another shrug before leading the way to a small wardrobe and changing area. "What happens then will be up to you. You could stay or you could go. Whatever you choose, it will be fine by us."

"Fine by your master too?" Rakine had to ask. "I'd hate to make an enemy out of a dragon."

"He'd be only disappointed if you don't present yourself properly." Latanna handed her some sandals that might fit Rakine's feet with a little bit of adjustment. Just as Rakine took them, Latanna switched to being dead serious for a moment. "Of course, not presenting yourself would be a grave insult."

Rakine nodded her understanding and then slipped on the sandals. After tying them up, Rakine stood up to see Latanna hold up a tiny piece of fabric. "Are you serious? That will barely cover anything."

Latanna unfolded the dress. It was orange - in quite the familiar shade - with black accents. The inversion of Rakine's own skin and markings.

"Girl, that's the point," Latanna said as she handed the garment over. "Our master invested a lot in you. It's only fair if he gets to see the result."

Rakine bit down a harsh reply. If it were anyone else, she might tell them off. Doing so with a dragon was unwise. She had seen his large body and extensive hoard. There was no doubt that he had influence far beyond his lair and the tavern that he ruled from the shadows.

Stepping into the fabric, the dress appeared to be barely decent. If anything, it might suggest even more indecency by the cut alone. Hopefully, she could scrounge up something more protected if she got out of here. Rakine knew she was now resistant to high heat, but out there, freezing temperatures were a far more likely scenario.

"Lead the way," Rakine demanded as she slapped Latanna's hand away. The other woman had fiddled with the dress to make it fall perfectly from Rakine's curves for too long.

"Fine." Latanna steered towards the same tunnel that had brought them to the dragon's hoard before. Rakine fell in step shortly after, but she wasn't alone. All of Latanna's helpers followed. Murmuring between themselves. Rakine was tempted to listen for clues, but then Latanna spoke up again. "One last rule you need to know. Our master's hoard. It is off limits to you."

Rakine scoffed. "I am not stupid enough to steal from a dragon."

Latanna stopped and grabbed Rakine by her arm to prevent her from walking past her. "That's not what I meant. Do not even touch it. You might see other women do so. Some may even walk or lay on it. They earned the right to do so. No matter how well you do, don't fool yourself into believing you might have earned the right. Only our master will decide who can touch his hoard and he will say when it is time. Got it."

Rakine contemplated a flippant answer but was taken aback by the seriousness of Latanna. "Fine," she said with a shrug. "Wasn't my plan to do so anyways."

It appeared Rakine's assurance was enough. Continuing their walk, they arrived at the hoard's cavern in short order. Rakine made a point of walking in the middle of the path that was free of any gold coins. Now, up close, she spotted a detail she had missed at her last visit. Stories about dragons - often told by herself - spoke of hoards that contain fine jewelry and dinnerware made of gold, besides the obvious coins. However, as far as Rakine could see, there were only coins here. No plates, cups, crowns, or scepters made out of the precious material. She could spot not a single gem among the drifts of golden coins.

Then, Rakine noticed the only other item scattered through the immense wealth of the hoard. Ostrich-sized eggs could be seen. They were, of course, made of gold. Rakine doubted they were dragon eggs. But why they were the only exception to a gold coin only hoard was beyond her. As they came close to the dragon, Rakine had to put that mystery aside.

"My lord!" Latanna intoned loudly. "I bring our newest sister. She is here to present herself."

Sister? Rakine didn't think so but bit back any correction. She wouldn't argue in front of a dragon. The great wyrm in question stirred from its sleep and rose up to its full might. Then, it withdrew out for sight beyond a hill of gold.

Just when Rakine thought she might be off the hook, a man appeared on the same hill. Naked as the day he was born and casually making its way over. At first, Rakine could make barely out any details, but the closer he came, the more she was awed by the sight before her.

This was not just a man. It was the man. A paragon that displayed the perfect blend of every detail a man should call his own. The physique was muscular, yet refined. Powerful, but graceful. There was such beauty in his countenance that Rakine shed tears of joy seeing it.

There was a brief moment when Rakine was startled to find herself attracted to him. But why shouldn't she? If any man had the right to not just question, but shatter her grasp of sexual attraction, it was him. She fell in love right then and there. How could she not?

"Welcome." His voice was deep and strong, yet had a melodic note to it. He offered his hand. "With whom do I have the pleasure?"

Rakine took his hand by instinct and her legs nearly buckled as she did. His presence alone was nearly overwhelming and the contact of skin on skin oddly sensual. It got her flustered as had nothing before.

"Rakine," she pushed out. Hoping to not sound too eager or hesitant.

"Rakine." The way he spoke her name was a delight to her ears. "A name derived from old Orcish, is it not. Songstress of history, if I remember correctly."

Rakine's eyes grew wide and a silly smile made its home on her face. He knew. Rakine would have guessed that no one outside of Orcish culture would make the connection. Rakine was an old name and the meaning is all but lost to those who study history. That he knew made her heart flutter.

As she gave an eager nod, he gave her a small bow. "My name is Athral/Asrrahl. I welcome you to my domain."

Rakine was delighted to hear his name, but it was strange. As if she had heard it two times in parallel and slightly different. She wasn't sure if any human could reproduce the sound exactly.

Athral/Asrrahl was waiting and Rakine realized he gave her time to process. To formulate a question. She took it as an encouragement to ask. "Your name, my lord." When exactly did he become her lord Rakine wasn't sure, but it felt right to her heart. "How does one speak it?"

"Ah, little songstress, that is a good question." His praise made Rakine beam with joy. "I am afraid it is beyond the capability of any human or those of other mortal races. It was in draconic, little songstress. Only dragons can speak it as there is a secret to it." He leaned closer as if he'd share an important secret, but spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "For, you see, dragons have two vocal cords instead of one."

Rakine had never heard of a creature that possessed two vocal cords. A unique feature that might explain why Athral/Asrrahl could speak two similar words at the same time. Then, doubt filled her mind. As a bard, she had more insight into how speech worked. The vocal cord played a large role, but it wasn't the only factor. The windpipe carried a tone upward and much of the final nuance is formed with the position of the tongue and lips.

A tone is vibrations carried through the air. Even with two vocal cords, those vibrations would mingle within a windpipe. Unless Dragon's had more than one windpipe too. But there was more. How could a dragon supply different amounts of air - and pressure - to two vocal cords? What they needed was a means to supply air to both windpipes in different amounts and separately. So, they couldn't share the air of both lungs. Which meant that each lung supplied one windpipe and one vocal cord. Independent of the other.

An epiphany struck Rakine. Her hand twitched up - to her throat - but she stopped herself from completing the motion. "My lord. It may be foolish, but may I try?"

Athral/Asrrahl regarded her for a moment. With each second that passed, Rakine's nervousness grew. Had she gone too far? Would he hold her in contempt for the mere suggestion?

The dragon in human form reached out and let a finger glide over Rakine's fine scales that covered her throat. "You think my gift allows you what no mortal could before." He let his hand drop and took a step back. Regarding her with an unreadable expression. "Go ahead. Try."

The sudden eagerness and excitement of Rakine vanished. All she had was a hunch. What if she was wrong in her theory or her throat was not as enhanced as she had thought.

Making a few nervous steps left and right, Rakine gave a few practice gasps of air. Left lung only first. Then right. Followed by both lungs on minimal volume. Then, she tried to vary it a little. Using both lungs, but taxing one a little bit more.

Eventually, Rakine was ready to try what no mortal had done before. To speak two words as one, yet distinctive.

"Athral/Asrrahl."

Her attempt had flowed off her lips. The vibration of two different harmonics had felt quite strange and unusual. Still, Rakine was elated. She had done it. Right? Athral/Asrrahl looked at her dispassionately. Had she failed after all? Maybe she hadn't replicated every nuance exactly or mispronounced a part of it.

A beaming smile broke out on Athral/Asrrahl and Rakine felt instant relief. She likened it to a dawn that broke through a stormfront and gave renewed hope with its rays of sunshine.

"My little songbird." He took Rakine's hand in his own. "You have given me a rare gift. I do not hear my name spoken often these days and never in my millennia of years flying on this earth have I expected to hear it from a mortal. Know that you are unique now. Even among your sisters. And I am eager to hear, little songstress, how far my gift will carry you."

Rakine's flushed state of excitement and arousal made way for the fear of yet another daunting task. "You want me to sing?" With two voices at once? Could she do it? One word had been hard enough. To sing a full tale was another beast altogether.

"I may need to practice for a short moment," Rakine added. "For I have not given it a try yet and I fear disappointing you."

"My sweet little songstress." The dragon gently brushed a strand of hair from Rakine's face. One she was all too aware was still damp from her last pickling. "After such a gift, there is nothing you could do to ruin it."

Rakine gave him a nervous nod. Yet, she was excited too. She had won his favor. A dragon. A man. A dream come true. She knew she had to at least try. For she would do anything for him. Athral/Asrrahl might have given her a gift, but he had claimed her heart in turn.

As he stepped back and took a seat on a pile of golden coins, Rakine started familiar breathing exercises. They gave way to humming. A way to test her new capabilities. To discover a way to separate her two voices and bring them into harmony with each other.

Then, she started to vocalize. Not into words, but melodic tones that usually helped her to prep for a long evening of singing before large crowds. At first, those tones were random. A means to an end. Then, inspiration struck her. Rakine shifted the tones into a familiar melody.

It was an old tale. Told from Orc to Orc. From generation to generation. And while she didn't sing words, her mind had this tale on her mind. Rakine sang, without words, of proud people, who wandered the large plains of grassland. Hunting for large animals that provided hide and meat. But she also sang of balance. Of respect for each other and taking only what was needed.

Then the tale shifted in tone. The prey had vanished and the tribes began to starve. Rakine invoked the arrival of a leader. One who led hunters in search of the decline of their prey. Her voice carried the tale of a perilous journey through dangerous lands until - at last - the leader and his people found their queries trapped in a faraway valley. Cut off from the plains that feed these beasts.

The leader rallied his people and cleaned the obstruction that trapped the beasts. He saved that species and in turn, he saved his own people. That man became a hero. Not known for pure strength alone, but for wisdom and the will to brave a world when darkness and hopelessness closed in on his people.

Rakine stopped. The tale was sung, yet not told. Her new voices were strained. This unfamiliar way of singing had taken its toll. She had failed, of that, she was sure, as she hadn't even put words into her singing.

"I am sorry, my lord Athral/Asrrahl, but I fear this is all I can provide for now."

The dragon in the shape of a man stood up and enveloped Rakine in a hug. "There is no need to apologize. It was magnificent. A moving tale. His name was Gorrash, wasn't it?"

Gorrash. Yes, it was the name of the hero Rakine had sung about. But she hadn't sung the name. "You recognized the song, my lord?"

"The tale, my songstress. The tale. As for the song. Latanna."

He turned away from Rakine who felt a momentary pang of anger and envy. She longed to have him for herself only. But that was a foolish thought as he was too much for her. She was not worthy to claim him on her own. Nor had she the right.

Latanna. The woman was nearby. Her eyes were wet with tears. And as Rakine gazed upon the other woman, anger and fear made way for gratefulness. Without Latanna, Rakine would have never met Athral/Asrrahl. She owed the woman a debt that Rakine couldn't put into words yet.

"Latanna, my darling." Athral/Asrrahl waved her closer. "Tell me. How many words of Rakine had you understood?"

"Words?" The purple-skinned woman looked confused for a moment. "I heard her voice, my lord. But I don't recall any words."

"And yet, your eyes are wet with tears spent," Athral/Asrrahl pointed out. "Tell us, what impression has her song left on you?"

"It reminded me of a field of grass, my lord," Latanna ventured forth. A nod from the dragon gave her the confidence to speak on. "But larger than any field I had seen myself. In my mind, I could see people there. Hundreds. Roaming this ocean of grass and hunting. Some great animals. And then-"

Latanna's expression darkened. "Vanishing. Emptiness. Starvation. But there was also hope. A man. Leader. Something like that leading his people into the unknown. Bringing back something. Saving his people."

"But I didn't use words," Rakine whispered as Latanna fell quiet.

Athral/Asrrahl gave her a generous smile. "My little songstress, you sang in draconian. A language that needs no words to convey its meaning. Granted, it was not yet fully developed, but that may come in time."

Rakine gave a bashful bow. "I thank you for your gift. It is beyond what I hoped for."

"Yes, my gift." Athral/Asrrahl appeared thoughtful for a moment. "And yet, I can't feel having received a gift myself. More than one actually. Your introduction to me was a gift by Latanna, for which I am grateful." He nodded to Latanna and a new pang of jealousy, but also gratefulness flashed through Rakine. "And then there is you, who not only spoke my name - which I have not heard from someone else for decades - but also bestowed a serenade in draconian. For that, I feel blessed. I am looking forward to your development."

And then, Athral/ Asrrahl bid his farewell and slowly made his way onto his hoard again. For a moment, Rakine felt the urge to follow him but remembered Latanna's warning. As the dragon in human form stepped past a drift of gold coins, Rakine's heart yearned to be bathed in his presence again. Like the rays of the sun one might miss after sunset, yet stronger by far.

"You did well." Rakine needed a moment to comprehend that Latanna had addressed her. "Still a bit stunned? I remember my first time. Back then, I was overwhelmed too. Now, I do better, but one never can fully shake the effect he has on us."

Rakine gave a distracted nod. She wasn't even sure she wanted to get used to Athral/Asrrahl's presence. It was glorious. Majestic. The day she would see it as ordinary would be a sad day indeed. Rakine spotted light behind the coins the dragon had vanished behind and a moment later, he reappeared in his draconic form. Slowly making his way to the center of his hoard and laying down again.

"What now?" Rakine whispered. Still unable to break her gaze from the magnificent creature before her.

"Now?" Latanna shrugged. Not that Rakine noticed. "Well, you are a traveling bard, right? I am sure you are itching to hit the road again."

"I can't leave!" Rakine exclaimed shocked after turning to her mentor. Neverending that it had been her plan all along. Now, things were different. She had been aimlessly adrift for her whole life. Now, Rakine had a purpose. One she couldn't abandon. "Can't I stay?"

"Of course, you can. Welcome sister." Latanna gently gave Rakine a hug and then started to steer her away. "I have yet to see a sister walking away. Not that any want to. Come. I will show you to your hoard."

"I have a hoard?"

Rakine's question remained unanswered until they arrived at the edge of the cavern. Apart from the dragon's hoard were large baskets that lined the wall. Each appeared to be covered in blankets and pillows. But more so, Rakine saw the glitter of coins scattered among them.

Latanna stopped before a newer basket with fresh blankets and pillows. At once, Rakine knew it was hers. Mostly by her belongings scattered along the side. The backpack she had carried as Narook for the last two years was the most obvious. Wear and tear had worn it down and soon it would need replacement. No, Rakine discarded the notion. What good would a backpack do if she stayed here? Equally useless were the clothes and boots she had worn as Narook. Rakine doubted they would fit her well.

And then, there were her coins. Three silver and a dozen copper coins. For a traveling bard, that wasn't a bad amount. Yet seeing her coins scattered over the basket, Rakine felt it was not enough. She needed more. But, why?

"If that's my hoard, it isn't much of one," Rakine admitted out loud. "Am I expected to sleep on it?"

"You are part dragon, are you not?" Latanna asked. She sat down - careful to not do so on Rakine's basket - and enlightened her a little more. "Dragons - and to a smaller degree us - don't hoard coins for wealth or influence. I heard the stories, but they are wrong. It isn't greed that motivates dragons. A dragon's hoard is an extension of them. It allows them not only to gather but also to store magic."

Latanna nodded towards Athral/Asrrahl and Rakine followed her gaze. The dragon was lazing on top of his mountain of gold coins. His breathing was gentle. As if sleeping. But Rakine saw his eyes follow the movement of the many sisters she now had. It even fell now and then on Latanna and herself.

"Dragons are powerful creatures of magic. They need more than their natural absorption can provide. Coins allow them to be more active. The spell he used - the one that makes him shift into humanoid form - does consume vast quantities of magic. The brief moment he appeared before you might need one or two days of recharging. But - on occasion - he stays longer as a human. Then, he needs a week or two to recharge."

Everything started to make sense for Rakine. But there were still some unknowns. "How often does he shapeshift?"

"Usually once a week." Latanna looked wistfully at the dragon. "Each time he spends time with one of us. It will probably be me next week. As a reward for bringing you to him. So close, yet I have to be patient for a few more days."

Once more, a ping of envy shot through Rakine. Yet she couldn't deny that Latanna had earned the privilege. And if she was honest, if anyone deserved the reward right now, it was Latanna in her eyes. For she had given Rakine a greater gift than she had thought was possible.

"How do I earn that privilege?" Rakine wanted to know. "What do I have to do?"

"You?" Latanna gently turned Rakine back to her basket. To her hoard. "Gather coins. Grow your hoard. Just don't steal from him or your sisters. Until you own a coin made out of gold."

Rakine looked at the pitiful amount of coins she had. One gold coin was equal to a hundred silver coins. Those, in turn, equaled each to fifty copper coins. It might take years for her to earn enough. Even in such a good venue like the tavern that stood outside.

"What happens if I manage to do so?"

Latanna gave a chuckle. "Reach it and I will tell you. But be careful. Our hoard is more than a means to appease him. You are exhausted, aren't you? Yet I saw you sing in the tavern for far longer. My guess is that you used up a lot of magic. The bigger your personal hoard the faster you will recover and the sooner you can use magic again."

Rakine nodded. "I do feel tired. As if I had traveled a long day. But it's hardly been an hour since I woke up last in the jar."

Latanna nodded. "Get some rest. We can talk later."

Just as Latanna left, another of Rakine's new sisters made their way over. "Hi. Welcome to the sisterhood. That was some fantastic singing. I am Mirabel, by the way."

Rakine gave a guarded "Thanks", but knew there was more to come. She had experience with enthusiastic fans, but this wasn't it. There was more to come.

"I noticed you have some silver coins," Mirabel continued. "Would you trade one for fifty copper coins?"

Rakine was bemused by the request. Yes, it was a fair conversion rate. Pretty much the standard. One silver was easier to handle - and harder to steal - than fifty copper coins. Having that many could be bothersome. But given that she and Rakine would stay here and have their hoards, there was no reason to go for practicality. In fact, it was oddly appealing to Rakine to have more coins than fewer. Even if they were copper instead of silver.

If Mirabel didn't mind having a smaller hoard with the same value, then Rakine had no problem having a larger one. "Sure. I'd be happy too."

Mirabel scuttled off to a basket that contained mostly silver coins and returned after counting out fifty of her copper coins. As Rakine handed out one of her three silver coins, Mirabel gave her some much-needed advice.

"There is a limit to how many our baskets can hold. You should aim for copper coins at the start. Once you reach about a thousand, you want to aim to exchange them for silver coins. Not all at once, mind you. A silver coin gathers and stores magic better than copper coins. Equal to about forty of them. And once you have enough silver-"

Rakine remembered the task to win Athral/Asrrahl's favor. She needed to have a gold coin. "Gold."

"Be mindful," Mirabel urged. "It is tempting to gift your first gold coin to our lord as soon as you can. But you shouldn't leave yourself without a hoard of your own."

Rakine nodded. Less so to acknowledge Mirabel's wisdom and more to the fact that she now knew her first task. One gold coin freely given. To grow the hoard of the one who has claimed her heart.

As Mirabel left, two other sisters approached. Each with a small pile of copper coins in their hands. Rakine fished for the two silver coins she had left. For now, she was happy to grow her hoard in size.

---

The tavern was just as crowded as Rakine remembered it. Packed full of travelers and merchants. And coin, a greedy part of her added. All she had to do was to convince them to part with them.

"Are you ready?"

Rakine looked over to Korinda, the manager of the tavern. Maybe it would have been better to wait for when Latanna was available again. But Rakine knew that would take a while. Latanna had not just earned the company of the dragon for a day, but also her next gift. Her third time receiving dragon scales. Rakine had helped to prepare everything for her mentor and right now, she floated in a large jar of pickling liquid. Just like Rakine had done a few times of her own.

"I think so." Taking a deep breath - but not too deep - Rakine made for the stairs. While walking, she started to whistle a tune. Her ability had been extraordinary before, but now - with two sets of vocal cords - her whistling got a haunting quality to it. The talks and mumbling of the tavern died down long before Rakine reached the main room. Everyone was curious about who possibly could produce notes like this.

Rakine made her way to the podium in her borrowed dress. Soon, she would have to order one for herself. But it would do for now. The last performers were still on stage - a troupe of bards - and she saw the offer from them to accompany her with their instruments. With a smile and a small shake of her head, Rakine declined.

Then, with every eye and ear focused on her, Rakine began to sing. It was an old tale. A well-known story, but not often performed. Even less so without singing words. But Rakine didn't need them anymore. For she had her magic and sang in draconian.

It started with dwarves. Those who had cast aside honor and succumbed to dark magic. Their clan eventually banished into the underground but never extinguished. A looming threat hanging over the heads of the civilized folk above ground.

The song changed as Rakine introduced the Goblins. Long known as pests, she introduced them in a favorable light. As curious folk that loved family life. Then, she sang of the opportunity. Ambassadors of the small green species approached those deemed civilized. They would slay those dastardly dwarves and in return, be acknowledged as one of the civilized folk without prejudice or contempt.

A bargain was struck and the goblins ventured deep into mountains and caves. Her song turned heroic and fierce as Rakine retold the many sacrifices goblins made. Often losing a dozen or more to vanquish even one dwarf. Thousands died and they did so not for themselves, but to gain peace and recognition for their offspring.

The last act of Rakine's song bemoaned those that had been lost, but also about their victory and their fair price. About the hope that came forth as Goblin kind joined others like Humans, Elves, and Dwarves. A new harmony that led to peace.

As her last note faded away, Rakine let her gaze roam over her audience. Barely any eye remained dry. There weren't many Goblins in the audience. While equal in stature they often preferred to stay among themselves. But those three who were present now were the center of attention as much Rakine was. Co-workers and fellow travelers remarked upon the bravery of the small folk and showed their newfound appreciation for them.

For Rakine this was as much payment as the many copper coins handed to her as she made her way out of the room. She was exhausted but refused to let it show. Maybe one day she would have enough magic to sing more than one song. For now, she gathered her coin and headed off.

"My lady, a moment please."

Rakine turned around to see a young man approach her. He was human and by the looks of his clothing, well off. A wealthy merchant or a traveling noble. As men go, Rakine would say he was above average in beauty. Not that she cared about such things. Compared to her lord, mortal men just utterly failed to move her.

"Such a lovely voice," the man added. "I'd love to hear more of it."

"Thank you." Rakine had learned early that being courteous paid off in the long run. "But I am afraid I must limit myself for now to one song each evening. Perhaps, tomorrow. If you are still around by then."

The man took another step forward and gave Rakine a winning smile. It might have worked on other maidens, but she was hardly moved.

"Perhaps no song then," he offered. "I bet you would moan beautifully too."

Rakine was half-minded to turn around and walk away. Yet, she was amused too. This was her first indecent proposal since becoming a woman. A part of her was flattered. Enough to see where this was going.

"What are you proposing?"

The man withdrew a silver coin from his tunic. "Perhaps, you allow me to behold your exotic beauty in all its glory and join me in my bedchamber."

Sex. Rakine should have known. She had no interest in it. At least not with mortal men. And he even dared to offer payment. A whole silver coin. It would go a long way toward her true goal. It was more than she had earned from her song. Not by much, but it was enough to tempt her.

With a fake smile, she took the single silver coin. "Lead the way and I will follow."

---

Giddy with excitement, Rakine entered the system of caverns she shared now called her home. Not far into the tunnel, a familiar shape greeted her. Latanna leaned against the rock and pushed off as Rakine came close.

"Did you get it?"

Triumphantly, Rakine held up a golden coin. "I actually had to negotiate. Greedy bastard. Told me it was some rare coin and worth more. In the end, I had to pay one hundred and five silver for it."

Most gold coins that made their way out here were carried by wealthy merchants. Each represented a large amount of wealth but was easier to hide. At least compared to one hundred silver coins. As such, merchants often kept them as a reserve and rarely parted with them. Not unless they had to. For this one, Rakine had to pay a little extra. A naughty deed and five silver more. Not that Rakine would reveal the former.

"Then be quick!" Latanna urged her. "Our lord is expected to shift soon."

Together they hurried further inside. Once a month, Athral/Asrrahl would take human form not to reward a certain woman alone, but to mingle with all of them. It was the ideal time to present her gift to him.

Rakine was elated to finally do so. She had reached the necessary amount of coins two months ago, but just finding one merchant willing to part with a gold coin had been harder than expected.

When Rakine and Latanna arrived in the main cavern, Athral/Asrrahl just made his way down his hoard in human form. Within seconds he was surrounded by Rakine's sisters. First by those who had earned the right to step onto the hoard and later by those who waited at the edge of it.

Rakine had to be patient until it was her turn to speak with the dragon. It felt like a small eternity. At last, she curtsied before him. "My lord Athral/Asrrahl."

"Little songbird." He gave her a smile that never failed to melt her heart. "Rumor has it that you have a gift for me."

"Yes!" Rakine could barely contain her giddy excitement. She fished out her gold coin and presented it to the dragon.

Athral/Asrrahl took it with a deliberation that ignored the fact that he had hundreds of thousands - maybe even millions - of coins just like this one. It glittered in his hands as Rakine had spent precious time polishing it. Still, it wasn't a pristine coin and showed its age with dents and scrapes.

"An Agashtinien gold coin." For a moment, the Dragon's exclamation had Rakine worried. Had she done something wrong? Was this not real gold? Her worries melted away as Athral/Asrrahl continued. "What a rare find you have brought me. How short-lived the Agashtin Empire was. I believe less than six thousand gold coins were minted. Three thousand five hundred twenty-six I call my own. I am a collector, you know. Thanks to you, I have one more to call my own. Thank you, my little songstress."

The praise alone made Rakine's heart flutter with delight. But her love was not yet finished. "As thanks, I grant you once more a choice of my scales. May it make you stronger and even more beautiful."

Delighted, Rakine thanked him again and again. But soon had to step aside to give another sister a chance to speak with their lord. Still giddy, Rakine's mind whirled around the decision she had to make. She was about to receive her second gift. It also meant once more she would submerge herself in pickling liquid in an oversized jar. If she was honest, she sometimes missed the feeling. It had been peaceful. Quiet.

Latanna joined her a moment later. "Congratulations. That was a big step."

"Yes," Rakine agreed. "What's the next step?"

"Why, getting pickled of course."

Rakine rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. After pickling. I need his favor. Like you have. What do I have to do so I am allowed onto the hoard?"

Unspoken was the fact that Athral/Asrrahl shared his company with some of the sisters in an intimate way. But only those he invited to his hoard. A step Rakine had yet to make.

"Next?" Latanna played clueless until she let Rakine off the hook. "Gathering one gold coin is hard enough. Less so for you who managed it within a year. But still, it is a challenge and takes dedication. However, the next step is by measure a lot harder. You will need about thirty gold coins to go forward."

Thirty? That was a daunting task and might take years. Probably more than a decade. Not that Rakine was pressed for time. Thanks to the dragon's gift she would live far longer than ordinary mortal races.

"Gift him thirty coins. That might take a while."

"Oh, no." Latanna shook her head amused. "Gather thirty and then you are ready for the next step."

Rakine's next question fell away as Latanna's name was called. It was Athral/Asrrahl who extended a hand toward her. "Would you join me for the evening?"

Latanna took it without hesitation and followed the dragon onto his hoard. Rakine wistfully looked after them. One day, she swore to herself, it would be her who was led into the hoard. Who would be bed on golden coins and enjoy the Dragon's embrace.

---

"Rakine. Rakine, wake up."

The hoard's songstress sat up with a grunt and found one of her sisters that had shaken her awake.

"What's wrong?" Rakine asked while rubbing her eyes. It must be in the middle of the night.

The sister's face looked serious. "We have a visitor. And I think our lord wants to show you off."

Rakine wasn't sure who deserved the attention of Athral/Asrrahl, but if he wanted to show Rakine off, then she was just too happy to comply. Standing up, she brushed off a few coins that stuck to her skin. Carefully placing them back on her hoard. It was mostly made up of silver coins with a few copper ones here and there. In the past years, she had also managed to gather six more gold coins. A start, but still far from her goal.

Next, she contemplated the few dresses she had and opted for one that was more revealing. If Athral/Asrrahl wanted to show her off, then she might as well too. Perhaps the most skimpy part was around Rakine's breasts. At her last pickling, she had selected two curved scales that she had placed right under them. She had hoped that the scales right over her lungs would improve them more. And in a way, they did. However, most of the dragon's magic had flowed into her breasts. Not just growing them, but covering the lower part with fine scales of her own.

Lastly, she added some light sandals and then, she followed the other sisters to the middle of the cavern. The preferred gathering spot of the sisterhood when Athral/Asrrahl wanted their attention. However this night, the dragon was nowhere to be seen on his hoard.

Spotting Latanna, Rakine walked over. "Where is he? And what visitor can be that important?"

"He is showing her the pickling lab. Ah, there they are!"

Rakine followed Latanna's gaze and needed a moment to comprehend. Athral/Asrrahl's beauty was overwhelming and unearthly. Never would Rakine have guessed she might see a second person as beautiful as him. Yet the woman hooked under the arm of the current humanoid dragon was just as breathtaking. Without a doubt, Rakine knew it was another dragon. And if her astonishing beauty wasn't enough to betray her true nature then the silvery hair with pale blue streaks would do so.

"I heard of her," Latanna murmured beside Rakine. "Our lord has courted her for quite some time. Centuries, if not more than a millennium."

A pang of dread shot through Rakine. What if he was successful? Would he dismiss Rakine and her sister? A moment later her rational mind returned. Of course, not. Dragons were solitary creatures and they didn't share hoards with each other. Courtship was for offspring only. With the gifts Rakine had received, she might live now centuries more, but she doubted the courtship would conclude within her lifetime.

"These are most of my chosen," Athral/Asrrahl said with a wide sweeping motion. "Ah, Rakine. Please join us."

A little nervous, but excited, Rakine stepped forward. She gave her best curtsy and waited for what her love demanded of her.

"Li'arine/Li'asine, this is Rakine. A songstress that had chosen her voice to be augmented by my gifts." Athral/Asrrahl then turned to Rakine. "Why don't you give Li'arine/Li'asine a sample of your singing?"

"Anything to please you or Lady Li'arine/Li'asine."

"She spoke my name," the female dragon exclaimed before Rakine could continue. "A mortal who speaks draconian. What a delight."

"Her spoken draconian is still very rudimentary," Athral/Asrrahl admitted. "But her singing makes more than up for it."

Her lord gave her a nod and Rakine knew it was time to begin. She hesitated only for a short moment to think of the perfect song. With her voice and magic, she started a well-known tune. Originating in a city known for its silk production. The song that left her usually accompanied a festival of fine threads and fabric. Of flags and banners. But most of all, about courtship. About precious gifts exchanged and young love blossoming.

With her magic, she could paint a picture in her audience's mind. Bringing the fields around the city alive. Raised buildings of foreign architecture and left an impression of the common people that lived there. She could convey the massive impact silk had on the culture and how colorful the inhabitants dressed. Culminating in a festival that was vibrant with vivid shades as it was with youth exploring each other.

As Rakine fell silent, she received a grateful nod from Athral/Asrrahl, but it was Li'arine/Li'asine who spoke up first. "Astonishing. I must admit I was skeptical when I heard of your experiments. But now, I see the value. To uplift the short-living races even for a little. That is a generous cause. Perhaps, I need to give it some more thought."

With her part done, Rakine and her sisters were dismissed. And while the dragons headed for the exit, Rakine was elated to have helped sway the female dragon. And every opportunity to serenade her love was welcome too. Proudly, she returned to her private hoard. Knowing she had done good.

---

"Are you ready?"

Rakine didn't look at her mentor. Though after a decade of living in the sisterhood, Latanna was a friend more than anything. Right now, thirty shiny gold coins held her attention. How long and hard she had worked for them.

Previously traveling from village to village, Rakine would have never guessed that she would accumulate such wealth. It was hers. At least, for now.

"Not really," she admitted. But grabbed one of the coins with a shaky hand anyway. "But this is what I worked for all these years. I can't hesitate now."

The coin was old but now shone with a mirror finish. Rakine had polished them time and time again. For one, no one liked to have a dirty hoard. But now, a clean coin was even more important. Deciding enough was enough, Rakine went for it. Placing the coin on her tongue and swallowing it. It was a strange feeling to have something this hard travel down her throat. It wasn't helped by the shape either. Still, it only took seconds for the first coin to land in Rakine's stomach.

"One down," Latanna said and gave Rakine a reassuring squeeze. "Twenty-nine to go."

Rakine nodded. She took the next coin. This time, her hand trembled less. She swallowed it too. Then another one. At a measured pace, Rakine swallowed them one by one. Until, at last, all thirty of her gold coins rested in her stomach.

"It feels heavy," Rakine remarked, as she sat down on her hoard. Now only containing silver coins with very few copper coins in between.

"Remember why you are doing it," Latanna reminded her. "Don't be afraid and, for now, rest."

Rakine nodded. She already felt tired and knew that a strange part of dragon magic was about to start. Laying down, she was asleep in seconds.

In the coming weeks, Rakine barely noticed. Only waking up now and then and checking her progress. Her stomach was hot. Not uncomfortable, but outside her normal temperature. As days passed by, this heat slowly traveled downward. Making its way through her guts.

Eventually, Rakine woke up. Her skin was slick with sweat. An unusual feeling as she had no reason to perspire in the last few years. Not many places challenged her new resistance to high temperatures.

Her attempt to stand up was a mistake. Rakine's belly felt heavy. She was breathing hard. Thankfully one of her sisters was close. First providing her with water. Then getting more help.

"You are nearly there," Latanna assured her as she arrived. "The last stretch."

It took a few hours. Rakine's breathing became ragged and the impulse was there to push early. But it needed time as Latanna assured her. Then, it was time. Rakine spread her legs wide and started to push.

The culmination of her efforts was a large golden egg that resembled those of an ostrich in size. She had seen quite a few of these over the past few years. They were scattered among Athral/Asrrahl's hoard and gifted by her fellow sisters. And soon, hers would join them.

The egg was heavy in her hands. Not just because she was fatigued, but because it was solid gold. Tracing the surface, Rakine spotted indents and other unique features. Giving the egg an artful look. A worthy gift for her beloved.

After an hour, Rakine had replenished her strength and stood up. Sisters helped her dress up in her best finery and then, Rakine lifted up her egg. With a small possession of her sisters, she made her way over to the lord of this cavern.

She stopped, as always, at a good pace before the golden hoard of Athral/Asrrahl. The dragon had spotted her from afar, but now that she stood ready, he stood up. In a whirlwind of magic, the body of a large winged creature gave way to the refined body of the most beautiful human.

With a measured pace, he walked down and stopped before Rakine. "My little songstress. It appears you bring me more than your lovely voice today."

"A gift for you," Rakine said and presented her golden egg.

Carefully - as if it wasn't made of gold, but a real egg - Athral/Asrrahl to it. Slowly rotating it, he inspected every inch of the egg. His fingers traced each indent or ridge as if to memorize it.

"It is beautiful. Like you. I will treasure it to the end of my days end." Athral/Asrrahl extended a hand to her. "Come. Let's find a place for your gift so it becomes part of my hoard and then, I will reward you."

Gladly, Rakine took his hand but hesitated to step onto the hoard. "Are you sure?"

Athral/Asrrahl took a deep breath and a gust of flame shot out from him to engulf Rakine. It only lasted a second or two. For her, it wasn't painful. Rakine's enhanced skin could resist hotter flames. She knew Athral/Asrrahl hadn't even used magic to raise the temperature of his flame. But Rakine's dress had no such protection. Mere motes of dust remained. Making Rakine stand naked before the dragon.

"Am I sure? Yes. I have looked forward to it for some time." He gently pulled Rakine onto the hoard. "Only decorum and fairness to your sisters helped steady my patience. Now, shall we?"

Rakine only nodded. She was overwhelmed by the power she felt beneath her feet. There might be a million or more gold coins underneath her soles. Each brimming with the dragon's magic. She knew it wouldn't be available to her, but she could still feel it hum beneath her.

As Athral/Asrrahl took her through a tour of his hoard, Rakine noticed that the other golden eggs had not been scattered randomly. Most were far apart and those that did lay close together sported all the same pattern. They all were gifts by Rakine's sisters and now, she would get her own corner of dedication.

"I think this spot will do nicely," Athral/Asrrahl remarked. Carefully placing the egg down. Then, he turned to Rakine.

The moment he kissed her, Rakine felt complete. As if she always had been fated to end up here. As a songstress and lover of this powerful dragon. It made all the many hardships worth it. From the many years on the road to the transformation into a woman. And she knew this would just be the beginning. In the coming decades, she would gather more gold for him. Compress them into eggs just like her sisters had done before. And maybe one day - if she spotted the right one - she would gift Athral/Asrrahl a new one of her kind.

But for now - as she sank down on the drifts of golden coins - and was beheld by the dragon she so much loved, all thoughts of the past and future vanished. For the present was too sweet to ignore.

The end.

---

Epilogue

---

Trees and more trees. Aribeth leaned back from the carriage's window. She had enough of those stupid trees. Or of those endless woods in general. She was born in a city, raised in it, and made her mark there. Traveling out into such rural areas was beneath her. At least, that's what she thought about herself. Aribeth's patron had other plans.

"Miss! Look!"

The shout of the carriage driver and similar ones by the hired guards made Aribeth look out again. At first, there was nothing to see again but trees. A large shadow roamed over the canopy and this gave Aribeth the hint to look up. A winged creature of silver and pale blue scales flew above them.

"Is that a dragon?" Aribeth exclaimed and ducked back further into the carriage.

"Aye, milady," the driver confirmed the rhetorical question. "It appears that we are fortunate indeed."

"Fortunate?" Aribeth nearly yelled. "How is being incinerated in any kind of form fortunate?"

The driver gave a deep laugh. "That's bard's tales, milady. No, dragons rarely brother with us mortal races. But seeing one, that is a sign of luck. A blessing if you will."

"Nothing about this trip is a blessing," Aribeth muttered and leaned back. Hoping that this trip will be over soon.

She got her wish ten minutes later. "We are here, milady! The rest you have to traverse on foot."

Aribeth stepped out and frowned. "Here? There is nothing but more trees."

"Aye, milady." The driver leaned over from the bench in front of the carriage. "That stone pillar there marks the start of the trail. You have to follow it."

Now that it had been pointed out to her, Aribeth saw an overgrown path near the pillar that led deeper into the woods. Nothing about this view was reassuring and her nervousness increased. Not that she let it show.

"Are you sure? And what about my luggage?"

"Will be carried separately," one of her guards spoke up. "But your patron's orders have been clear. You are to travel alone on this last leg of your journey. We will have to wait here."

Befuddled, Aribeth made her way over to the pillar. Thankfully, she had opted for some traveling clothes. Her normal city attire would be entirely impractical for what laid ahead. A last glance back and Aribeth walked into the woods.

Following the path, she found every five minutes a new pillar. A sign that she wasn't lost. The time in between pillars was spent muttering curses. She was a master alchemist. A gold-ranked potion brewer. This walking through the underbrush in some forgotten woods was beneath her.

Yes, she would be nothing without her patron. Whoever it was had given her a scholarship to the most prestigious school of magic. Even financed her endeavors after graduating. In exchange, she had to do some research on an unusual branch of magic. Aribeth snorted at the thought. Not for the first time. She had to practically invent that branch of magical studies.

Now, Aribeth could claim she is the foremost expert in magical pickling. She was the only one too. At first, her patron's request had intrigued her. Transferring magical properties of ingredients normally used for potion making onto food. While not really practical, Aribeth found it had some potential and celebrated a few successes that earned her the respect of her peers.

But it didn't last long. No, her patron's demands had to slip into unusual territory. Could she pickle living beings? At first, Aribeth had been taken aback. But she continued her research anyway. All to keep the money of her patron flowing.

She had started with rats. It had taken her a year, but she got the desired outcome. Rats that could breathe underwater and resist high temperatures. Even boiling water. The city council had been less ecstatic about her success. Especially after one of her rats escaped and procreated with the native population.

But she didn't stop there. No, her patron demanded more. Cats. Dogs. Pigs. Then a month before her departure, she had managed to pickle a whole horse. It displayed some amazing properties. A good gift for a king to buy his favor, if the pony hadn't been bright pink with a purple mane.

"Great. A cave." Aribeth glared at the end of the path and the entrance to the nearby mountain. But sure enough, a pillar was right beside it. With more curses, Aribeth started her climb toward it. Maybe now she would finally meet her patron and could ask why the heck she had to research such strange things in their name.

The tunnel into the mountain was swallowed by darkness. Not a problem for Aribeth who spied extinguished torches at regular intervals. A flick of her wrist was enough to make magic leap from her and ignite them. Drenching the tunnel into flickering orange light.

The rock was rough and natural. Only some spots showed the marks of tools to widen possible former narrow passages. That changed when Aribeth entered a large room. It was clad in large ceramic tiles and was full of alchemical devices, storage shelves, and workspaces. Even large pots and a giant glass jar. At once, Aribeth felt more at ease. At least she was now among things she knew.

Most of the objects appeared to be new or hadn't been used yet. Even the tiling of the floor and walls was missing the wear down of constant use.

"This was a recent addition," she murmured to herself as she inspected a few glass beakers that were unused, but had a slight layer of dust on them. "A few months at most."

"One year and five weeks, to be precise."

Aribeth whirled around at the sound of the melodic voice. At the entrance to a different tunnel stood a woman clad in silk. Not much of her form could be seen beneath the fabric, but she appeared to be shapely. The only uncovered part was her lower face. Aribeth saw kissable lips and the hint of a petite nose.

Not in the mood for playing games, Aribeth straightened up. "I am Aribeth Of Sondholm. Master alchemist and a potion brewer of the golden rank. By request of my patron, I traveled here. Are you their servant? I demand that you bring me to them."

Aribeth saw a slight smirk on those perfect lips. "I am your patron." As Aribeth cursed her own jump to conclusion, the woman walked into the room. She stopped beside a large book resting on a lectern. "My name is Li'arine/Li'asine. Please join me. I bet you have questions."

Questions? Aribeth had plenty. Starting with how one pronounced that name. She wasn't even sure what she had heard. It was as if she heard two names at the same time. But now was her chance to get answers to her many questions. Some of them more than a decade old.

"I apologize for my assumption," Aribeth said while doing a curtsy. As her patron remained quiet, Aribeth took it as a sign to approach and ask what was on her mind. "Yes. Why me? The scholarship. The strange research. What purpose has it all?"

The woman smiled and turned to the book. "Not long ago I saw a strange feat of magical change. One I didn't quite understand. My friend who had held these experiments even gifted me a copy of his research, but I couldn't make sense of it." A short frown diminished the perfect look of her lips for the barest moment. "I am afraid the scientific methods of the mortal races were never a strong suit of mine. Hence, I decided to sponsor a promising prodigy in hopes that they - you - could help me further my understanding."

Aribeth's mind whirled. Being called a mortal race was unusual. Strange even. And her whole academic life - nearly two decades - had been just so someone could make sense of something. To satisfy the curiosity of some noble or whatever this woman was. But what shocked her the most was that this woman categorized the span of half of Aribeth's life as 'not long ago'.

"I can take a look." As the woman stepped aside, Aribeth could lift the heavy cover of the book. Inside she found thick parchment and writing that was quite old-fashioned. Not far in, she made her first conclusion. "This is about pickling a living being." Because, of course, it was. That explained the unusual field of study her patron had insisted upon. But the next revelation was more troubling. "Of humans?"

Split between fascination and disgust, Aribeth read on. It covered basic topics first. How to make sure a human could survive the process. From breathing long durations inside of pickling fluid to surviving boiling water. It even described how it was solved that the victim - and Aribeth only could think of a subject of this as a victim - needed nutrition and how to prevent unwanted excretion from spoiling the solution.

Aribeth took involuntary steps back and pointed repeatedly at this book of probably forbidden knowledge. "Whoever wrote this is a genius. A dabbling amateur, but a genius. Dragon scales? As a final ingredient? I wouldn't even know where to get my hands on those."

A chuckle from behind reminded Aribeth that she was not alone. "My dear, I advise you to never tell that to his face. Now, tell me, can you adjust the effect?"

"Adjust? Miss-" Confronted with pronouncing that strange name, Aribeth struggled with the decision if she should try and then decided against it. The delay was enough to cool her temper. Enough to not yell at her patron. "Maybe. Possibly with enough research and preparation. But that depends on the desired effect."

"Well, currently, this process should make anyone a woman. Independent of the original gender. Am I right?" As Aribeth nodded, Li'arine/Li'asine continued. "Well, I desire the same, but with the difference that the end results are males. Can you do that?"

Her analytical mind sprang to the forefront and already started to substitute those ingredients that were needed to make women for those that resulted in men. But Aribeth had to stop herself from going down that road too far.

"It is not a question of if I can, but if I should." Aribeth squared her shoulders. Patron or not, she had to draw a line. "But Miss, this is human experimentation. It would be illegal to try on unwilling subjects and I highly doubt you'd find volunteers."

"Really? Won't you volunteer for me?" Before Aribeth could stand her ground, Li'arine/Li'asine withdrew her silken wraps that covered her face and body. The effect was immediate and she took Aribeth's hand. "For me?"

Aribeth couldn't believe her eyes. From underneath the silk, the most perfect woman emerged. Never in her life had Aribeth desired a woman, but she did now. Just to stand in the presence of this divine creature was a privilege. Aribeth wanted nothing more than to stay forever at the side of this woman. Her patron, and now her love, for her heart had decided. And if she desired for Aribeth to become a man, how could she possibly say no?

"Yes, I do."

---

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

A big yawn escaped him as Simon paused mobbing the floor. Just like every other day, the third shift was the most boring one. The monotonous hum of the ship's fusion reactor didn't help to reduce the boredom he experienced. Only another hour and-

A shrill siren started blaring. Simon knew it well. It was the alarm for battle stations. Not that there were any, really. The Golden Swan was a merchant ship. Still, it meant removing his bucket and mop post-haste and skiving into a vac-suit. They had about five minutes until the captain would order the ship's interior to be pumped out of air. Then the inside would be as much of a vacuum as the endless space around them.

"Fockin' drills," Prescott cursed as he slammed his datapad down. The officer of the watch in the engineering section for the third shift. "Waste'o time."

Simon could only agree but kept it to himself. He was on the lowest rung of the ship's pecking order and no one gave a rat's ass about his opinion. Having stowed his tool, Simon arrived at the same time at the locker as Prescott. Both started to shimmy into their tight vac-suits when an announcement came over the speaker system. Then, Simon strapped himself into a backpack that held enough oxygen for close to two days.

"This is the captain speaking. We have pink sails. I repeat. Pink sails. Not a drill. Four minutes to vacuum."

"Aww shite," Prescott cursed.

"Pirates?" Simon asked aloud. "I heard they aren't so bad. They take a part of your cargo and have some fun with the crew. All very civil."

"Forgot it's ya first cruise." Prescott stopped for a second to look Simon deep in the eyes. "That's if ya don't run, boy. Captn always runs. Funny thang is, he escaped so fa."

"In your suits and on your stations," the chief engineer shouted as he and a bunch of crew arrived. Making the area around the lockers very crowded.

As soon as Simon had his helmet on, he ran towards a bulkhead and strapped himself onto a safety rail. Contrary to everyone else in the room, he didn't really have a position. Or the skill to even lay claim on one. He was just the shipboy. At eighteen years the youngest and hardly what might be called a sailor. Or even an apprentice.

"Hard vacuum in ten seconds!"

The shout made Simon look up. This was it. A real battle. He never thought he might be in one. This was a trading ship after all. Even pirates were a calculated risk of minor property loss. Pull over. Give a few wares. Leave. The fast ships of those pirates didn't really have the storage bays to truly rob them blind.

The engineering section broke out into hectic activity. Here and there, Simon got snippets of orders thrown around. Then the air was gone. Taking most of the sounds around with him. Only the hum of the reactor remained. Transmitted through the deck below his feet. At least, until his radio turned on.

"Prepare to raise all heat sails," the chief engineer transmitted.

Through vibrations of the deck, Simon felt the ship shudder as the sails extended from the hull. Then a sudden jerk nearly threw him off his feet.

"Sir, the starboard sail failed to fully extend."

"Damn it!" The chief engineer looked around and his eyes fell on Simon. "Shipboy. Go out there and assess the damage."

Simon gulped. Was his boss serious? Simon had barely done a few practice excursions onto the masts. Now he was supposed to go out there while in battle? But the look hard as steel clued Simon in that the chief engineer was indeed serious.

With trembling hands, Simon untethered himself and hurried to the outer hull. He arrived at the air-lock. Instead of cycling through, he opened both doors at the same time. After all, the ship was already under vacuum. There was no more air to lose.

Outside was the vastness of space. Tiny pinpricks of lights marked stars lightyears away. Fighting down his own fright, Simon stepped out onto a small gangway and immediately tethered himself to a safety rail. Not far ahead was a thick column of steel extending from the hull. From there, the spines of girders and textiles extended. The heat-sails. Of course, they were colored golden. Pure vanity, to match the sails to the name of the ship. As far as the mast extended outward, it wasn't enough. Looking up, Simon spied the topside mast and it was extended to twice the length. Something prevented the starboard mast from doing the same.

Just in front of the starboard mast was a gangway and Simon wasted no time hurrying along. At least until he arrived at the painted red line. Beyond, the gangway twisted in place. Turning ninety degrees to the side to then run parallel to the mast. Simon knew this was the point at which the artificial gravity ended. Beyond that, the gravity would change. Whatever acceleration they had would create a different kind of artificial gravity.

Simon's stomach turned around as he stepped over the red line. Fighting to not throw up, he hurried onward. Only to immediately sink to his knees. The display in his helmet was telling him he experienced one and a half g of gravity. The Golden Swan was accelerating fast.

Through his hands and knees, he could feel the heat radiating from the mast. The ship's engine and other functions drew a lot of power. To satisfy the need the Golden Swan had a decent-sized fusion reactor. One that produced tons of heat as a byproduct. Contrary to popular belief, the vacuum of space was a poor medium to bleed it off. That's where the sails came in. They were gigantic heat exchangers that fought to radiate off excess heat.

Simon didn't want to imagine what would happen if the sail couldn't keep up with the heat the reactor produced. Hence, he fought himself up from his knees and soldiered on. Fighting step by step up the mast. The Golden Swan had four of them. Starboard and backboard each to the side. Then there was the topside and the keelside. Or up and below the ship. Why they were called like this, he had no idea. Must be remnants of a bygone era. All four masts could extend up to two hundred and fifty meters. Though the backboard one was stuck at the half and it was Simon's job to figure out why.

A small light in the vastness of space caught his eye. It was moving. And, if he wasn't mistaken, coming closer. Then his eyes grew wide. It was the drive-plume of a missile. Simon had barely registered the fact when the missile raced past the Golden Swan. A split second later a bright light made Simon wince and turn his head away. They had detonated it in the path of the Golden Swan. A warning shot, Simon realized. Surely now the captain would stand down and give up. But Simon winced as more acceleration-gravity clawed at him. They were now running even faster. One point seven g he could read on his helmet's display.

Simon fought to move on. His arms and legs were even heavier than before. Each step was exhausting. Fatigue set in, but at least he nearly had reached his goal. Only fifty more meters. Then he spotted another drive-plume. A new missile.

"Please be another warning shot," he prayed. To whom he couldn't tell.

As it came closer, Simon stopped to grab the railing tight. Bracing for an impact that he hoped never came.

The light of a new explosion blinded him, but Simon had barely time to process the fact when the Golden Swan groaned beneath his feet and bucked to the side. Nearly throwing Simon over the rails. This hadn't been a warning shot. That much was clear. But as Simon turned around his breath got stuck in his lung. The top-side mast was gone. Instead, a steady fog of ice escaped the stump that remained. The Golden Swan was leaking coolant fluid which immediately froze into a fine spray of ice crystals. Looking behind, Simon could see the remnants of the mast and sail quickly falling behind. Soon swallowed by the inky vastness of space around them.

Simon cursed with everything he got. The Golden Swan had lost a quarter of its heat exchange sails and still, the ship raced on. It was madness. Then it dawned on Simon that if he couldn't get the starboard sail fully extended, the reactor might overheat. That would be the end of the ship.

With hard breath, Simon fought to go further. To reach the end of the mast. He might just be the shipboy, but right now the fate of the Golden Swan was in his hands. The end of the mast came within reach. Maybe two dozen meters more, when a new quake made Simon lose his footing. Had they been hit again? He hadn't seen the drive-plume of another missile.

Looking back, Simon could still see the keel-side and backboard-side sails. That was good. The mist of frozen coolant on the top-side stump had ceased. Probably cut off from within. Still, they were trailing a fine spray of ice. Where was it coming from? Then, Simon saw it. A rupture at the base of the starboard mast. The very one he was standing on. The ripping off of the topside mast must have thrown debris around and damaged other parts.

Simon pushed up on his legs again. Running with the last energy reserves he had. Not towards the end of the mast, but towards the ship. He knew the mast was lost. He just hoped he wouldn't be lost with it. Another groan shook the ship at the same time the leak at the base of the starboard mast doubled. More internal pipes must have ruptured. Simon was running out of time. Fast.

In order to gain speed, Simon did what every instructor warned him never to do since day one. He unhooked himself from the safety tether. Barely four steps later, Simon stumbled. Finally, the captain had seen reason and reduced acceleration. Now going with one point one gravitas of acceleration. It meant Simon had an easier time hurrying back to the ship, but not that the captain gave up yet. The pirates probably would have demanded them to stop accelerating altogether.

Another big groan shook through the starboard mast. Simon could barely hear it. Only what was transmitted through the soles of his vac-suit. Simon grabbed the railing as his eyes grew wide. The rapture at the base of the starboard mast grew visibly. More coolant leaked out and the mast slowly bent out of position.

Just twenty more meters, Simon reminded himself. Then he would be back on board the ship. There he would be safe. But he had to hurry. He broke out into a sprint that was short-lived. A sudden explosion severed the starboard mast at the rupture and threw it clear off the ship. Along with Simon.

Suddenly tumbling through empty space, Simon only caught glimpses. The mast was floating nearby, but clear from Simon. Beyond was the Golden Swan. Quickly shrinking into the blackness around him as it accelerated away. He was lost now. They wouldn't turn around to get him. They probably hadn't even noticed him getting swept off into the darkness. Still, Simon activated his emergency transponder. Even knowing it was in vain.

A sudden bright light made Simon flinch. Right from the spot he last had seen the Golden Swan vanish into. It was brighter than the detonation of a missile. Which could only mean one thing: the Golden Swan had overheated and the fusion reactor had blown up. Taking along the ship and crew into an early grave.

For a split second, Simon was glad to be thrown off the ship and mast. Narrowly escaping the destruction of the Golden Swan. Of course, the relief was short-lived. Death was still in the future for Simon. Just now it came in the form of suffocating. Not a happy prospect. In just a few hours, Simon would join his fellow crewmates in the afterlife.

"Anyone out there?"

Simon blinked in shock as his radio squawked to life. It was a female voice that spoke to him. Definitely a pirate.

"We are receiving an emergency beacon," the woman continued. "If anyone survived, please respond now."

In haste, Simon needed a few seconds to find the right buttons to press on his suit to open a channel. "Yes! I am here. Simon Watts. Shipboy of the Golden Swan."

"Well, not anymore," the pirate corrected him. "Hang on tight. We'll triangulate your position and will get you. Shouldn't take us more than an hour. Are you clear of any large debris?"

Simon looked around. Even going so far as to activate his suit's helmet-mounted flashlights on their highest setting. "Nothing I can see. I was thrown clear of the ship when the starboard mast came undone."

"Understood." A few seconds passed before the pirate spoke up again. "Boosting towards you now. This will take a while. Keep calm. Conserve oxygen and battery power. We will check in every fifteen minutes."

"Acknowledged."

And then, there was nothing left to do but wait.

---

Slightly over two hours later, Simon stumbled out of the shuttle that rescued him. The landing bay was small. Aside from the shuttle, there were a few secured crates and a five-women welcome party. Except his welcome hadn't been friendly so far.

The women in the shuttle had been intimidating and if any of his old friends might have joked about it, Simon would now have the evidence to prove them wrong. All pirates might be women, but they certainly looked imposing. The pirates wore only light armor. Padding the most important areas of the human body. They only wore light equipment and weapons as well.

What struck Simon as most intimidating was that they looked coherent. Professional. Not the slapdash amalgamation one might have expected. And they moved efficiently. When they sealed up the shuttle and ordered Simon to ditch his space suit, he did so as fast as he could.

Now, stepping out with only his undergarments - not even his work overall - Simon felt profoundly naked. And the cold stares of the women before him didn't inspire confidence that anything would change soon.

One of the pirates of the shuttle pointed at some unremarkable point of floor space. Simon hurried to stand on the exact spot. He had been warned only to speak when spoken to.

One woman stepped forward. She towered over Simon. Partially because of plateaus under her boots. She wore a skintight suit that was transparent in most areas. Giving a deviously lewd display. Simon did his best not to ogle. It might cost him his life after all.

"My name is Constanze Vasquez," she spoke up as she slowly started to circle Simon. "Captain of this ship, the Talon. Now, who are you and what do you bring to offer?"

"Simon Watts," he replied. "I was the shipboy of the Golden Swan. I am sorry, but I don't understand. I've nothing to offer."

"Nothing?" Constanze stopped before him and raised an eyebrow. Then abruptly turned around and walked towards the exit. Nodding to one of the other pirates. "Throw him out of the airlock."

Simon's eyes grew wide. "Wait. Please, wait. I meant I don't know what I can do for you. Maybe I could work for a passage to the next port?"

Vasquez turned around and looked passed. Her boots echoed as she stomped back. "Is this a joke? Have you ever heard of a male pirate? And what use do you think we have for a shipboy?"

Simon knew he was truly fucked, but what else was there than to try on. "Maybe I can entertain you?" He didn't even know how, but he heard stories that entertaining a pirate was what smart sailors did when they got raided by pirates.

"You don't even have a rating," the captain sneered.

"Captain, if I may?" One of the pirates stepped forward. Despite her dark complexion, she had blond dreads that reached toward her hips.

Vasquez turned half away from Simon. "What is it, Akinyi?"

Akinyi didn't immediately answer. First, she gave Simon a wink and a smirk. "I've been working on a new model. Maybe the boy wants to volunteer. And then, working off his passage wouldn't be a problem."

The captain turned back to Simon and gave him a toothy grin. "How about it, boy? Do you volunteer?"

Simon swallowed hard. There wasn't much of a choice. Either he volunteered or he won a quick exit through the airlock. Still, he had to ask. "Volunteer for what exactly?"

"Akinyi is our resident body sculptor. And since we have a class four auto-doc, your half portion of a boy wouldn't be a problem. One quick nap and you wake up a woman." Vasquez leaned a little more forward so she could whisper into his ear. "And believe me, Akinyi is skilled. Look around you. Most of what you see is her handiwork."

Rather involuntarily, Simon did as told. The captain was right. He was surrounded by beauties. And if they were the creation of Akinyi, then Simon would turn out a hottie too. As much as he wanted to believe it wasn't his future, Simon's logic dictated differently. He definitely wasn't going back out into space. Much less so without a spacesuit.

"I'll do it." The words flowed slowly over Simon's lips. It sealed his fate. "I'll volunteer."

"Excellent!" Akinyi rushed forward and grabbed Simon's arm. He would have been dragged away by her, but the captain stopped them.

"Just so we are clear-" She fixed Simon with piercing eyes. "There are no freebies here. You ain't just volunteering for her remodeling. Until we make port again, you will be part of this crew. That means you will follow orders and do your best."

The underlying meaning was clear to Simon. "Until we make port, I'll be a pirate under your command."

"I am glad we understand each other."

The captain stepped aside. Making way for Akinyi to drag him off. It didn't take long for them to arrive in the med bay. The Talon was smaller than the Golden Swan. Four bulky auto-docs filled the small room. By the look of it, they appeared to be class four. A rarity. He wondered if every pirate ship sprang for those expensive acquisitions.

Class four was normally overkill. Class one could take care of scrapes and bruises. Even bone fractures or common sicknesses. Two handled more serious injuries and chronic diseases. Civilians rarely saw a class three auto-doc. Those could handle cybernetics and organic grafting.

Class four would leave nothing left of Simon. It could and would break him down to his DNA. Giving him a makeover on the genetic level. He would wake up a new person in the most literal sense.

Simon dreaded what was to come, but at the same time, he made his peace with it. There was no alternative. He looked at Akinyi. "I am ready."

"Not yet." Akinyi threw something invisible at him. A split second later and Simon saw a data transfer offer. "Install that."

"What is that?"

"That is the standard pirate application," Akinyi explained while not even looking up from her console. "Every pirate has it and every pirate needs it. It has a ton of features you need and it handles all security interactions with a pirate ship. Hence, if you want to work on this ship, you need this app."

Simon wasn't so sure if Akinyi told the whole truth. The app was big. Putting some of his games to shame. Who knew what functions it had. Yet, he saw no alternative to install it inside his cortical implant. Once the app was done, it threw the first alarming prompt up.

"It wants to run on an administrator level!"

"Yes. And you will accept." This time Akinyi looked up and gave him a look of steel. "Listen. This app handles data security. Not just for you, but for this ship too. And before you get your panties in a twist, there will be a few more requests that might make you panic. It will ask for permission to access your neural network. In other words, your brain. It will also request access to your hormone production and other carrier chemicals in your body. You will accept all of it." Then, Akinyi's voice softened up a bit. "Look, I know it is scary. You are told to be very careful about giving those permissions away. I understand. Every pirate on this ship or others knows how you feel. We all carry the same application and granted it full access."

Simon's mouth felt dry as he said "Understood." He accepted all prompts. A little of his nervousness bubbled forth. "Either I signed up to be a pirate or you can make me a wanton slut to work in a brothel."

"Oh, when I am done, you definitely could work in a brothel," Akinyi promised with a cheerful grin. "But pirates don't do slave trading. It is against the code."

A new prompt appeared in Simon's vision. One he only could acknowledge for now. "The application says I have the wrong body to work properly."

"Well, that's your cue to climb into an auro-doc."

A little nervous, Simon stepped into the closest one. The reclined seat was comfortable. He took a last glance at his body. Giving it a farewell in his mind. With this last task done, all that was left to do was to wait. By the time the auto-doc closed up, part of Simon was excited. Yes, he would give up his body. His gender even. But there was some curiosity. In what kind of body would he wake up? How would it feel?

While he mused, Simon drifted off to sleep. The sedative diffused into the air had done its job.

---

Simon woke up confused. He felt groggy and the canopy above him definitely didn't belong to his bunk bed on the Golden Swan. It only took a few moments for the last traces of sedative to leave his system and for his mind to become clear. With it, his memories returned. The panic of the pirate attack, him being thrown into space, and the rescue by the pirates. If one could call that a rescue.

He knew he was a woman now. His body definitely felt different. Still, he waited a moment to look at it. Delaying the inevitable.

Others were not as patient. A woman appeared over the transparent capsule of the auto-doc and gave it a good tap. "Oi, sleeping beauty, we ain't got all day."

"I underst-" Simon stopped. So, this was his new voice. Deeper than he would have guessed, but very melodic. If piracy wouldn't work out, maybe he had a future as a Jazz singer.

"Got it," he tried again. Then rose to a sitting position. The auto-doc automatically opened, but Simon was too distracted to notice. Yes, he was a woman now. With all the bells and whistles. However, there were quite a few unusual features.

"There you are." Akinyi appeared at his side and offered her hand.

Simon was grateful for the help. Standing up, he felt like a newborn giraffe. "Are my proportions off?" He had trouble keeping his balance and yes, his new breasts threw off his center of balance, but they weren't that big.

"Yes, your legs are slightly longer than the norm," Akinyi confirmed. "A good chunk of your new DNA comes courtesy of Sigma Draconis five. The other half of the majority comes from Penzentos three."

"Can we hurry this up, Doc?" The newcomer was clearly impatient. She was a pale woman with shoulder-length purple hair that was shaved off on the left side. "Me and Cappuccino here have things to do."

"Shut up, Rowlin," Akinyi snapped. "She just woke up and needs a moment."

Simon was grateful. His new body clearly was a little outside the norm. Being called cappuccino was surprisingly on point. As he could see in a nearby full-size mirror. From head to toe, Simon's new skin was the color of milk coffee. But it was not uniform. Like swirls and contours, he had heavy white freckles that gave his body an exotic look. As if someone had tried to body-paint on him with flour or a dusting of powdered sugar. Even stranger was the second set of scarcer, but darker freckles on top.

His hair was strange too. From some angles, it looked like a light pastel pink. But moving his head just a little made it shift slowly to a blond. Still with a tint of pink to it. There were the long legs that Akinyi had pointed out too. It made him half a head taller than the resident mad scientist. The rest was normal by comparison. Even the model-like face with deep brown eyes. His new body was athletic. He had feared exaggerated features like a big bosom or mighty hips. But everything was a good average.

"Now, listen up. You too, Rowlin." Akinyi snapped a few times to get the attention of the purple-haired pirate. "The third planet in the Penzentos system has higher gravity than normal. The local residents have developed denser bones and muscles. That means you, new girl, have more strength under the hood. Not as much as a native who grew up under high-g, but still a good boost toward it. The trade-off is the side effects of your unusual hair and long legs. Both are normal in that system."

"I can live with that," Simon said when Akinyi waited for a comment.

Of course, Rowlin had to comment too. "Good thinkin'. It might be useful for the position the capt'n has in mind."

Akinyi rolled her eyes but then continued with her explanation. "Your new skin might appear decorative in nature, but it is another side-effect. Courtesy of your Sigma Draconis genes. The air there is thin and the people are surprisingly nomadic. Hence they developed high endurance over the years. With the added benefit that you'll consume about twenty percent less oxygen than a baseline human."

If Simon found himself floating in space with only a suit again, he might suffocate twenty percent slower. Not a real boon in his book, but he didn't voice that sentiment out loud.

"More stamina for less fuel," Simon summarized. "Got it."

"Is that all?" Rowlin asked Akinyi. As the doctor nodded, Rowlin put an arm around Simon and led him away. "Come on, Cappuccino. Time to show you the ropes."

"That's not my name," Simon protested.

"Oh, you already settled on a woman's name?" When Simon shook his head, Rowlin patted him on the shoulder. "Then Cappuccino it is. Until you settle on something better. Better hurry up, though. Nicknames tend to stick quickly. Well, Cappuccino is a bit long. How about Chino? Nah, too masculine. Pucci?"

"None of these," Simon was quick to say. "Listen. I'll think of something, okay? In the meantime, could I get something to wear?"

"Of course, Powder-Tits. Where do you think we are going?" Rowlin thumbed on her chest. "I'm your mentor now. That means you're my responsibility."

"I don't like Powder-Tits either," Simon muttered. Despite being very on point. The white freckles around his breasts looked a little like a brasserie. They contoured the underside of his breasts and gave them a truly unique appearance.

"In here, Pouty-Lips." Rowlin steered him through a heavy hatch.

The view inside robbed Simon of any reply. Weapons lined the bulkheads ranging from pistols to rifles. Even some melee weapons like stun batons. There were a few lockers in between the arsenal and Rowlin walked to one. She withdrew one of the spacesuits the pirates preferred. Most of it was transparent and only barely covered the naughty bits.

"This one should fit," Rowlin remarked. "Might not be long enough for your legs. Just give it a moment. It is self-adjusting."

Simon took the offered spacesuit and eyed it wearily. How much protection could such a lewd spacesuit offer? Unfolding it, Simon got his first surprise. For something transparent the suit's membrane was surprisingly thick. Simon found the second surprise when he tried to put his first leg in. It was not just figure-hugging, but tight. Squeezing every inch of his new body. Shimming into it took a few minutes and when Simon closed it up, it was from neck to toe skin tight. Despite the thickness of it, he felt exposed. He guessed about eighty percent of his skin could be seen through it.

"Finally. Took you long enough. Next step: armor." Rowlin withdrew a patch of armor that looked like the front half of a battle harness. "Now listen up. The transparent areas of your spacesuit appear to be decorative in function, but they are not. Each corresponds to an equally shaped armor plate. Just press it on like this and it will hold."

Rowlin had lined it up with the transparent area that exposed the front of Simon's chest. Pressed at the right place affixed it in place. It added some weight, but not too much.

As Rowlin withdrew more armor patches, Simon had to ask. "If the transparent areas are markers where the armor goes, why make it transparent in the first place. Why not just a simple color shift? Maybe light gray or thelike?"

Rowlin didn't answer directly. Instead, she pointed at the weapons around them with an armor patch she had been about to affix to Simon's tight. "Look around you. What kind of weapons do you see?"

Simon did, but his knowledge was limited. After a minute he gave up with a shrug.

"See, Cappuccino, they are all non-lethal," Rowlin revealed with a smirk. "Killing sailors is bad for business so we limit ourselves. Not everyone feels the same. Some people are just stupid and try to resist. They usually carry weapons that hurt. And the navies, well, they always shot with lethal intent."

"Let's say you get shot here." Rowlin poked him in his new soft belly. "You feel a sharp pain. But how bad is it? How deep? Your space suit and implant need up to thirty seconds to assess the damage. Too long." She peeled back part of Simon's armor and acted like taking a peek. "Oh, just a flesh wound. Not too bad. Or, oh my, heavy bleeding. We need to get you to an auto-doc as soon as possible."

"I prefer not to be shot at all," Simon admitted. "Will there be a lot of fighting?"

"Usually? No." Rowlin continued to add armor patches to Simon's suit. Each time holding it up and then showing where and how to attach it. "We avoid the navies as best as we can. Sometimes, rarely, a sailor tries to be a hero. Despite that, most merchant captains discourage the notion. That's why we always enter a merchant vessel in full gear. Even if that vessel is known to us and we had boarded it before without a problem."

Rowlin adhered the last patch to the suit and motioned for Simon to stand up. As she gave him a once-over, Simon made use of the fact that he had a mentor. "Why would a captain discourage it?"

"Oh, Cappuccino." Rowlin gave a big overdone sigh. Instead of answering right away, she grabbed a pistol from a nearby rack. "That's the RCS-63. A sidearm designed for riot control and used in many colonies. It is non-lethal. Good for us pirates too. As long as the opponent doesn't wear too much armor. It attaches here." She placed it on Simon's right tight and it held in place just fine. "As for your question. We pirates usually are easygoing. Stop a merchant. Have a little fun. Take some of the cargo. And then we leave. But how much we take depends on how they behave. There had been instances where pirate captains spaced cargo and blew it up. Just to make a point. The message is: don't resist us and you'll be fine. Do, and we make it hurt. A spacer playing hero might cost a merchant captain a few more tons in cargo."

Simon nodded along. "That's more or less what I suspected." Secretly he was relieved that there was a slim chance of actual violence. Yes, he had agreed to be a pirate for the duration until they reached the next port. But that didn't mean he wanted to hurt or even kill somebody.

"Next, we have the Sendov." Rowlin pulled a short snubbed shotgun off the rack. "It doesn't incapacitate people. Its payload is electronic warfare. Freezes any electronics near the impact. Powered armor, shields, or electronic locks. Among other things. Good against heavy opponents, but rarely used for it. Among us pirates, it is known as the universal crowbar. Gets you through doors and opens up sealed crates."

The shotgun found its place on Simon's back. Adding some more weight to his frame. With all the armor panels, his suit started to get heavy.

"And, at least for now, the standard assault rifle." It was the biggest weapon Rowlin pulled from storage. "Or the SAR-Special, as we call them. Normally shoots lethal - it still can - but we modified it for a variety of non-lethal ammunition."

"Okay. I think I get it," Simon said as the rifle found its place on his back too. "Let me take a guess. I have to strip and reequip this getup a few times to prove I can do so in an emergency."

Rowlin gave a sharp laugh. "Oh, Cappuccino, you are a riot. Watched too many military sims, did ya? Listen. I'm your mentor. Not some pissy drill sergeant. Come on. I'll show you to your teammates."

"In all this getup?"

"Of course." Rowlin gave him a predatory grin. "You'll need it."

She led Simon deeper into the bowls of the Talon. They arrived at cargo bay two. But despite the name, Simon saw no cargo. He could make out gym equipment and six more pirates.

"Celia, I got your newbie!" Rowlin turned to Simon. "That's Celia. Your new squad leader."

As Simon took stock, it was clear that Akinyi designed a few of the bodies around. They all looked like models and half of them had unique features. Celia, who stood up from a bench press, had sways of iridescent scales scattered over her skin.

"Celia," she curtly introduced herself again as she held out a hand.

"A pleasure," Simon replied as he became the victim of a vice-like handshake. "Haven't settled for a name yet. I don't think Simon is appropriate anymore."

Possessively, Rowlin slapped Simon's shoulder. "I'll call her Cappuccino."

"Again. Not my name," Simon growled while swiping off Rowlin's hand.

"Finding a name is important," Celia agreed, but still looked questioningly at Rowlin. "Cappuccino? Any reason why?"

Rowlin chuckled. "Peel off her armor and you find a skin that might be a barrister's wet dream. Akinyi has outdone herself this time."

"Doesn't she always?" Celia asked, then turned back to Simon. "So, you need a name, huh? Does it have to be coffee related?"

"How about Kaffee?" One of the pirates spoke up. Only to be slapped on the head by another. "Isn't that just coffee in Prussian Moderna?"

"How about Melya?" Another pirate suggested.

Simon thought it over. "Actually, I kind of like that. And it isn't anything like Cappuccino, Macchiato, or anything other related to coffee." As he heard a few chuckles, Simon gave a sigh. "I guess it is after all?"

"Welcome to the team, Melya," Celia was quick to say before more jokes could be made. "Now, what kind of background do you have?"

Flustered, Simon scratched his head. "I was a shipboy before."

"Not that," Celia said over the chorus of chuckles. "Any weapons training? Did you do any martial arts growing up?"

This time, Simon's reply was even more sheepish. "No."

"Oh, girl. We have a lot of work ahead of us." Celia turned back to Rowlin. "We got it from here. You can collect her in, say, four hours."

"See you in a few, Cappuccino," Rowlin shouted while making her exit.

"It's Melya now," Simon tried to correct her, but even to him it sounded pouty. A deep sigh later and he turned back toward Celia. "So, where do we start?"

In reply, he got a very hungry grin.

---

Melya was swamped with sweat. It was quite the feat with a spacesuit that was supposed to transport all that grossness away from her skin. But even marvels of technology had their limits.

In the first two hours, Celia had her do all kinds of physical training. It was a crash course in how to live with a female body. Melya also started to get used to her new name. She got plenty of time to hear it from her new teammates. They probably used it more so Melya could get used to it. Cementing the fact that she was now Melya and being Simon was a thing of the past.

She had been exhausted by that point, but Celia hadn't been done with her. "No history as a pirate can be good or bad. We will see what kind of material you are."

Melya had to don her whole loadout on again and was led to a simulator room. Here, she found her new favorite torture device. Each simulator was surprisingly sophisticated. It could create force fields with detailed surfaces. Stepping on these, Melya could walk through a number of artificial terrains. Small tractor beams kept her in place. Artificial gravity could simulate different planets and throw her around in simulated impacts. Combined with a very realistic heads-up display, the simulator could put Melya into every possible combat situation and make her believe she was actually there.

The first simulation Melya could experience was a virtual target range. There, Celia explained each weapon in detail and had Melya test-fire them all. She quickly left the basic aiming tests behind and moved on to a few challenges. Melya thought she had done well on those. Despite the needling and jokes of her new teammates. Then came the fun part. The most realistic video game she had ever played.

Celia threw her into a few different situations without training or advice. Just to see how Melya would fare. From boarding a hostile ship to making planetfall. To Melya it all felt real. If she ran down a corridor, she could forget that what she saw was computer generated and the very ground she walked on was just force fields. Objects she picked up or bulkheads she leaned again were all simulated but felt just as real.

Of course, each Sim had enemies. Melya could feel each impact if she was hit by enemy fire. Whether it was simulated by tractor beams or moving force fields didn't matter to her. She even was thrown through the air by grenades and other explosives. In the end, she didn't wonder why she was sweating like crazy or why her brand-new body was bruised in quite a few places.

The last simulation ended as Melya had to navigate a spaceship with a loss of artificial gravity. She had been picked off while floating from one cover to the next. With no means to change her trajectory while floating, she had been easy to target and finish off.

Melya heard the arrival of Rowlin before she raised up her vizor. "How is my Cappuccino doing?"

"It's Melya now," Celia snapped before Melya could. "And you better use her name. Because you know how our squad feels with others messing with our members."

"Alright. Alright." Melya took in the room just as Rowlin raised her arms in a placating manner. "If you are done with her, I've got some mentoring to do."

Celia ignored Rowlin to give Melya a helping hand exiting the simulator capsule. "So far, so atrocious. But you have potential and appear to be a fast learner. We will continue this tomorrow."

Melya gave her goodbyes to the rest of the squad. Depending on what Rowlin had planned, she might or might not see them before the next day. Like a good student, she followed her mentor out of the door.

"What's next on the plan?" Melya wanted to know.

"First, we'll stow your stuff. No one here runs around with weapons twenty-four-seven. And then-" Rowlin gave her a nasty grin. "The lesson everyone needs, but no one else is willing to teach. "Female hygiene one-oh-one."

"Oh, great," Melya moaned, but she saw the necessity. She was a woman now and for the foreseeable future. It made only sense to learn how to take care of herself. But something struck her as curious about Rowlin's comment. "Surely not everyone. Can't be that many like me."

"You'd be surprised how many of us pirates used to be sailors." For once, Rowlin actually sounded serious. "Two-thirds on this ship by my last account. And let me tell you, a few of the natural women arriving here still need a refresher."

"This will be awkward," Melya admitted. "But I'll be all ears."

"Good," Rowlin said just as they arrived in a public shower compartment.

Melya was used to sharing a shower with others. Floorspace was premium on space-faring vessels. The Golden Swan hadn't been any different in that regard. The Talon's shower was even smaller. Six pirates could share the small compartment.

And it got awkward. Fast. The sonic shower took care of a lot, but Rowlin taught her what bits and bobs took extra attention. What surprised Melya was how used she got to the feel of her new skintight spacesuit. Slipping out of it, she felt naked. Which was surprising as it only exposed twenty percent more skin of her.

As they were finishing up, Melya noticed that Rowlin had skipped over one important topic. "What about, you know, the time of the month?"

"Ah. Right. Don't worry about it." Rowlin continued to get dressed again and casually continued. "You are on a pirate ship and running the pirate app in your implant. That means the app automatically suppresses everything that is connected to fertility. In other words, we don't want pirates to get pregnant mid-journey. The easiest way is to prevent the release of eggs. And, in turn, no time of the month. Now, once you leave the ship for more than a week, that stops and you become fertile again. Come on. Time to show you your bunk."

The way Rowlin cut off the explanation, Melya was sure she had to do research on her own. Yes, she was glad that there was one aspect of womanhood she didn't have to deal with yet. But it was only a matter of time. She would leave the ship at the next port and then she'd have to deal with all aspects of womanhood.

"Here we are. Your bunk is below mine."

Their sleeping compartment was less of a room and more like a hallway with recessed sleeping nooks to both sides. By the looks of it, this compartment could sleep eight on either side for a total of sixteen. The sight wasn't new to Melya. As Simon, his first encounter had been sobering. On the Golden Swan, only officers got their own room. The common crew had to make do with these tight sleeping nooks. Melya was actually surprised. These beds actually deserved the moniker. They were a little longer and wider than those on the Golden Swan.

Rowlin showed her the basic features. Nothing new to Melya. Some small storage lockers at the head end and private displays that could be lowered from the ceiling of the sleeping nook. It was clear that these spaces were designed for sleeping. Not for any other activities.

"Ready for your next lesson?" Rowlin had that eager grin on her face and a glint in her eyes. By now Melya recognized it as a sign of danger.

"Sure," Melya agreed. "Provided it is either grabbing food or taking a nap."

Rowlin bellowed a laugh. "What? A few hours of workout and you are tired? Tomorrow there will be twice as much. Sorry, honey. But there is some time left before the next meal. Now, scoot into your bunk. The next lesson will be pleasurable. Provided you do it right."

Melya doubted it. There was not much to do in a bunk besides sleeping or watching some program. In two dimensions no less. It would do in a pinch, but Melya doubted it would really entertain her.

"Now what?" Melya asked as Rowlin climbed into her own bunk.

Rowlin appeared a moment later. Leaning out of her bunk and holding a data chip. She offered it to Melya. "Next, you will watch a little informational vid."

"An informational vid?" Melya asked. "A pleasurable one? That would be a first."

"Oh, poor little Cappuccino," Rowlin mocked. "Now, stop stalling."

A little grumpy, Melya did as told. The data chip was full of vids. Melya could see that most of them were captured in two dimensions, but a few were marked as holo-projector compatible.

"Which one?" Melya asked while giving her mentor a pointed look. "And why are all these file names based on male names?"

Rowlin did an impossible feat by grinning even bigger. "Just pick one at random. They are all good. I guarantee it."

Melya narrowed her eyes but knew by now that arguing with Rowlin would lead nowhere. So, she adjusted her display and leaned back. She might as well get comfortable while watching some instructional vid. As Rowlin suggested, Melya picked one at random.

The vid started with a close-up of Rowlin's face. The pirate clearly was setting up a recording device. Satisfied, she stepped back and made Melya gasp in turn. The Rowlin from the vid was naked. But that was hardly the strangest part. She wasn't alone. A sailor of maybe forty years was with her. Framed by the vid was part of some cargo space and a makeshift bed that looked surprisingly comfortable. And the recorded Rowlin was quick to make use of it and the sailor.

"You are making me watch one of your amateur pornos?" Melya shouted more than asking.

Rowlin's head appeared once more. "Oh, I am doing more than that. You girl, are about to masturbate for the first time as a woman."

Melya's mouth fell open. "What? Why?"

"Because we pirates are sexual creatures." Rowlin looked surprisingly serious as her mouth made ridiculous statements. "And you are no different. Listen, I am your mentor. It is my duty to make you comfortable with all aspects of being a woman. And that includes that you don't end up as some kind of prude. Listen, I told you this lesson will be pleasurable and I mean it. Now, I taught you how to open your suit at the groin. Get busy. We ain't leaving until you know how it feels to get off as a woman."

"You've got to be kidding me," Melya murmured as Rowlin's head disappeared. This task was nuts. Yet, in a twisted way, it made sense. If Melya was honest with herself, she was curious about how it felt. She also knew that privacy was a limited resource on a space fairing vessel. Having just one pirate around that could overhear her might be as best as it could get. And if she refused, she'll probably garner the spot of her new co-workers. There was no telling how long Melya had to work with them as she had no clue when they made port next.

Still peeved, Melya leaned back and resumed the vid. She might as well try. And despite it being an amateur vid, it provided some entertainment value. Rowlin was attractive and right now Melya could enjoy a lecherous look when no one was looking. The purple-haired pirate clearly was molded by Akinyi too. She was shapely and athletic. The man she had picked probably wasn't sculptured, yet he was a looker too. He had some muscular bulk, but not as much as a bodybuilder. He looked fit and had stamina. A fact he proved by taking his time with plenty of foreplay. The slight sheen of sweat made his abs glisten while-

"What in the void?" Melya noticed the signs of her own arousal. And her attraction wasn't focused on the purple-haired pirate. "Rowlin!"

Rowlin's head appeared again. She wore a shit-eating grin. "You summoned?"

Melya feeble pointed at her display. "The man. Why am I attracted to the man?"

"Oh, my little Cappuccino." Rowlin shook her head playfully. "Has the little wannabe pirate forgotten a certain app in her implants? One that has access to your biochemistry and neurological pathways."

"The pirate app!" Melya grimaced as she recalled that she had been forced to give those permissions. "Why make me gay? I mean, straight. Oh, you know what I mean. Why is it important that I am into dudes?"

"Now, that is a good question." Rowlin gave a wise nod that was spoiled by the fact that she leaned out of her bed and hung upside down. "It is for the harmony of the ship and for motivation. Also, technically, you ain't straight. The implant carefully tweaked it so you are bisexual with a strong lean towards men."

"But why? I still don't get it?"

"Okay. Women first." Rowlin slipped out of her bed and made a show to pose for Melya. "You are somewhat attracted to every woman aboard. Enough to fool around, but not so much that you fall in love. That could lead to drama or two pirates snagging up and retiring together."

Yes, Melya decided, if Rowlin would offer, she would be open for a romp with her. With every pirate Melya had encountered so far. Once again, Melya was annoyed that it made sense in a certain way.

"And the men?"

"Well, isn't it obvious?" Rowlin waited for an epiphany in Melya's eyes. As none came, Rowlin slapped her own forehead. "Oh, right. I forgot that you are fresh out of the spaceport and hired onto a ship that always ran. What did other sailors tell you about them entertaining pirates."

"Not much," Melya admitted. "Only that it happened. No details as they didn't want to spoil my first time when-" Melya's voice trailed off as she caught sight of the vid paused mid-action. "Is that it?" she asked while pointing at the display.

"Of course, it is." Rowlin sat down on the floor and started the second round of explaining. "You see, pirates and sailors used to mix like water and oil. Not very well. We killed them. They killed us. And everyone was unhappy. But it gradually changed. Now, it is more like an amicable transaction. Sailors entertain us. Which keeps the motivation of pirates high and gives us reason to be lenient in our takings."

"I see how sailors and pirates profit from the arrangement," Melya slowly relented. "But I don't see how the merchant captains can be happy with it."

"You don't? Think about it. Pirate ships don't have the cargo capacity as merchant ships do. And often, we don't even fill our bays half up. Or with the most profitable cargo. Why? All are part of the arrangement. For merchant captains, a pirate encounter is like a toll they pay. It can be calculated within their profit margins and has the benefit of keeping the crew happy."

Melya leaned back and thought about it. The whole arrangement sounded like a delicate balance. A lot more civilized than she had expected. Of course, there was a downside Rowlin had glossed over.

"If it is so beneficial, why did the captain of the Golden Swan run?"

The question sobered up Rowlin real quick. "Right. For you, it must be harder to accept. Listen, ninety-nine point nine percent go with the flow. But sometimes, you have some greedy asshole as a captain. Profit over everything and risk be damned. All a roll of the dice for them. Normally, a disabling shot is all it takes. Take a mast and the merchant captain knows what's what. That the Golden Swan lost a second heatsail was bad luck."

"Even among the crew, he didn't have the best of reputation," Melya admitted. "If only I had known."

Rowlin reached out and gave Melya a squeeze. "Don't dwell on the past. What's done is done. Rather concentrate on your current task." As Melya looked quizzical, Rowlin gave a sigh. "This was a bummer of a topic, but you ain't getting out of it. I still want you to explore your new femininity. And that includes rubbing one off."

Melya swallowed uncomfortably. "Understood." There was no weaseling out of this one.

---

Melya's heart was beating wildly and she hoped none of her fellow pirates could pick up on it. This was it. Her first time boarding a merchant's vessel. A part of her had hoped that they would run unto port before it happened. Now, she was forced to be part of it. The moment she entered the vessel, she'd be a criminal.

She had gotten a pep talk from Celia - her squad leader - before getting onto the boarding shuttle. Whatever calm she had gained from it evaporated as none other than the captain stepped onto the shuttle too.

"Hey, newbie!" Melya turned to the squad mate who had called her out. "Don't go trigger-happy on us. Chances are low one of them is stupid enough to try something. Just do your stuff and everything will be fine."

Melya gave a nod and leaned back. As far as she could. Today, she was wearing a portable scanner. The heavy equipment would reveal any hidden weapons on a person or even in smuggler compartments.

A slight vibration went through the shuttle as it docked. As practiced, her squad took positions. "Weapons check!" Celia demanded. They already had done one, but each squad mate sounded off. Melya hoped they wouldn't need them. At least she only carried non-lethal rounds.

Melya caught sight of Rowlin. Of course, her mentor was part of her first boarding action. She gave Melya a thumbs up and got a nervous nod in reply. The newbie also caught a small smile on the captain's lips. That didn't help to calm her down.

The airlock opened and the squad moved in. Everything ran smoothly and as practiced until Melya stepped foot on the merchant's vessel. She nearly tripped as she saw the welcome committee. Two rows of sailors stood in the middle of the bay. They all looked in good spirits. Not at all nervous. A few more crewmates leaned against the rear bulkhead.

"Melya. Scan."

Snapping out of her little shock, Melya went back to what she had practiced with her squad. Her scanner went active and she slowly walked along the double row. Each sailor came away clean, but Melya had trouble focusing on the results. Most of the sailors looked fit. Some she might even call hunky. Good looking too. And if Rowlin was right, there was a good chance that one of them would entertain Melya tonight. It was a little embarrassing, but she looked forward to it. Maybe that young one with that ponytail. He looked the same age as Melya.

"Clear!" Melya shouted as she scanned - and appreciated- the last sailor. She took position beside her squad mates. Not nearly as nonchalant as them.

A moment later, Rowlin and the captain stepped aboard. Triggering the next surprise for Melya. "Florencio!" Beaming brightly, Melya's captain walked over to the merchant captain, who was equally all smiles. He took Captain Vasquez's hand and placed a kiss on it. It was followed by a "Dear Constanze, it is so good to see you."

"They know each other?" Melya whispered to Rowlin who had walked over.

"Old acquaintances."

Despite Rowlin's talk about the amicable relationship of pirates and merchants, Melya hadn't expected a quite so cheerful welcome. And then there was her captain. Constanze Vasquez had always appeared hard as nails to Melya. Now, she acted like she was reunited with her old high-school sweetheart.

Someone punched her shoulder and Melya saw Celia close by. "Stop gawking. It is time to sweep the ship."

Leaving two of their squad behind, Celia and Melya explored the merchant's vessel. Their first stop was the Armory. As Melya had learned, most merchant ships had one. Less for the purpose of carrying large amounts of small arms. Sailors about to be boarded handed their personal weapons over to avoid misunderstandings with pirates. A quick scan and Melya sealed the Armory with a lock. They would undo it on their way out.

Next were the personal berths of the crew and the captain's quarters. All were clean of weapons. Even the knives of the kitchen had been cleared and placed in the Armory. Sweeping the cargo bays took longer. Melya was confused by the first makeshift bed she found. Quickly followed by quite a few more. Melya stifled her curiosity. Besides, she could think of why they were here. After all, sailors tended to entertain pirates. Despite never having been with a man - and only accepting her attraction to them recently - Melya looked quite forward to her own turn.

At last, they arrived back at the airlock just as the next pirate shuttle arrived. They didn't carry weapons. Melya and her squad had made sure that they didn't need them. "What happens now?" she asked Rowlin as she took a stance beside her.

"Now we take turns having fun," the purple-haired pirate replied. She pointed at the sailors that leaned on the bulkhead. "Entertaining us is voluntary. Those over there are off-limits. Before you ask, they might be gay, have a wife at home, or have any other reason. You'll have to do with those that volunteered."

"Not a problem," Melya said and impatiently witnessed as her fellow pirates made their selection. Each walked off with a sailor of their choosing. Her heart lightened a bit as she saw that none went for the young stud she had earmarked for herself.

"Someone caught your fancy, Melya?"

A little shocked, Melya turned towards her captain. Vasquez leaned on the merchant captain as if he was a prized possession. There was a smirk on her face and knowing glances to Rowlin.

Melya blushed despite trying to avoid it. "Maybe."

A brilliant laugh rang out through the cargo bay. "Ah, young and eager. Let's celebrate your first boarding. Go ahead. Pick your poison."

"Really?" Melya's gaze went over her teammates. This would mean skipping ahead of them. But she only saw grins and encouraging nods.

"Ditch your pack and weapons," Celia ordered. "And choose wisely."

Like a child in a candy store, Melya prowled the two rows of sailors. Sure, a few were missing as other pirates had made their claims and she already had a certain sailor earmarked. But a girl could watch, right? Some of those sailors were certainly a feast for the eyes. A few even tempted her to decide differently.

At last, she stopped before her young and muscular favorite. He gave her a bow with a flourish. "My name is Mauricio and I'd be honored to entertain you."

Melya couldn't suppress a little giggle. "Well then, Mauricio, show me what you got."

Arm in arm, they left for a quiet place.

Not even a half hour later, Melya stomped back into the cargo bay. She ignored the snickers of her squad mates as she silently took her position beside Rowlin.

"Everything alright?" her mentor asked after a moment.

Melya stared ahead. It turned to a glare as she saw Mauricio slinking back into the bay. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Sure. Sure." A few seconds passed before Rowlin continued in a chipper voice. "It's not hard to imagine what happened. Let me guess. You both were hot and bothered. Probably skipped a good foreplay session. Going right to the nitty gritty. And then he was done after ten minutes. Leaving you wanting."

"Not even five!" Melya's outburst earned her a few giggles. "First, he is all big talk. Next thing I know he has come and tries to get me off with a limp noodle. When that isn't working, he makes excuses. So he offers to go down on me and I think, well at least something. But he is bad at it too."

"Oh, poor Cappuccino." Rowlin didn't sound emphatic to Melya. Not one bit. "Well, you can warn the next pirate when you write his rating."

Melya turned to Rowlin. "What do you mean by 'rating'?"

"Oh, did I never explain the rating system? What a terrible mentor I am." Rowlin gave her an apologetic look. The same one a child might give a parent who knew they messed up and it was expected of them but didn't really mean it. "Let me explain. If you access your pirate app, you can see all previous ratings of a sailor. You see, we can install a little helper app in the implant of a sailor. Only if they want, mind you. But once it is there, they can't manipulate it. We pirates can rate them on how well they entertained us. And see who was a good lay in the past and who wasn't. Give it a try."

Melya was half-minded to glare the next half hour at Rowlin but eventually relented. Opening up the pirate app, it wasn't hard to find the appropriate sub-menu. Rating popped up over each sailor. Ranging from one star to five. Though few came even close to five and there was only one who had a one-star rating: Mauricio. If every pirate had access to this information then all her crewmates had known Melya had chosen poorly. And no one had warned her.

Her app notified her that she had sex with Mauricio - if one was generous with the term - and if she liked to rate him. She could even write a few sentences. Melya's first impulse was to give him one star and write him a scathing review.

"You know, there is an old saying," Rowlin spoke up. "Young pirates learn to sail from old sea dogs."

Melya frowned. What a nonsensical saying. But the confusion over it distracted Melya from her anger. She took a moment to take apart the meaning. Glancing at the two rows of sailors made it even easier. It wasn't hard to see a trend. The older the sailor, the more and higher ratings they tended to have. Someone young like Mauricio may have aspirations to do great, but old sailors had the experience to follow through.

Again, she looked at Mauricio. The young lad wasn't as cocky or assured as before. With a hanging head, he kind of was halfway between the rows of sailors and those who waited at the bulkhead. And then it dawned on Melya. If the captain of the Golden Swan hadn't been such an idiot, then she might have ended up just like Mauricio. A ship boy on his first cruise. Eager to please a beautiful pirate, but lacking the experience to make it worthwhile.

In the end, she gave him three starts and her review read as follows: "Didn't make me come, but I see the potential. Eager to learn. Might need a better teacher than me to become a good lay."

It only took seconds after her submission before Rowlin spoke up. "Three stars? That's very generous of you."

Melya shrugged. "Had I a different merchant captain than the one of the Golden Swan, it might be me standing there and feeling embarrassed. Worth cutting some slack."

"Very wise for such a young age," Melya's current captain remarked.

"Constanze, I am terribly sorry for my underperformed crewman." Merchant captain Florencio sounded jovial, but Melya could hear the seriousness beneath it. "You won't hold that against me or my crew, right?"

"Of course not," Captain Vasquez replied and patted him on the chest. "He gave us a valuable opportunity to educate our newest member. Girls! Who here wants to see if Melya learned her lesson?" Her teammates all lifted up her arms in unison. Of course, Rowlin needed to fall out of line and gave a thumbs-up instead. "Well, looks like you got lucky, Melya. Go ahead. Choose again."

"Thanks!" Melya didn't know if she said it to the captain or her squad. A little too eager, Melya ditched her weapon again and inspected the remaining sailors again. Having access to the ratings made it a whole lot easier. She stopped before an older sailor with salt and pepper beard stubble and small wrinkles in his eyes from too much smiling. He looked to be in peak physical condition despite being in his forties. It helped that he boasted an average rating of four point five two.

"Ajern, my lady." He offered his arm. "Might I restore our ship's honor to you?"

"I don't consider it tarnished, but I am not saying no to seeing what a seasoned sailor can do."

Arm in arm with Ajern, Melya was escorted away.

---

Melya tidied up her bunk. Not that there was a lot to do. For a month, it had been hers. Now, it was time to say goodbye. It had taken the Talon three holdups to fill their cargo bay. Packed with loot, they had made their way back to a known pirate port. Melya's obligation was fulfilled. She had worked as a pirate - and sacrificed her original body - to earn this passage. Now, she could start anew.

"I got something for you."

Melya turned to see her mentor walking up. Holding a gift-wrapped box. "You shouldn't have."

"Hey, I am letting you go into the wild world out there," Rowlin remarked. For once, she sounded serious. "This is the least I can do. Come on. Open it."

"Alright." Melya smiled. Who didn't like gifts? The wrapping was undone in seconds. The contents were glittering before her eyes. "A dress?"

"And shoes," Rowlin added while Melya lifted out a gold sequin dress with blue accents. "Your old squad and a few others hit the bars later. Maybe you can join us. Nobody parties like a pirate after a successful haul. And the girls want to see you off."

Before Melya could reply, her name was shouted from further down the corridor. Peeking out, she saw the first mate who shouted a short message for her. "Captain wants to see you."

"See you at the bars?" Rowlin asked as Melya turned back.

"Sure." Melya had gone from being fearful of the pirates to having quite a few friends. If she was being generous she might even count Rowlin among them. If her mentor just wouldn't pull as many pranks on her in the name of teaching her. "I'll see what the captain wants and then get dressed."

"Grand!" Rowlin gave her a quick hug. "We'll be at the Drunken Anchor."

Shaking her head in amusement, Melya grabbed her gift and made her way toward the bridge. Aside from her spacesuit, it was now her only possession. Just shy of the bridge, Melya stopped at the door that led to captain Vasquez's ready room.

"Come in," she heard after knocking. Stepping in, Melya saw Constanze Vasquez slouching behind her desk. Sipping hard liquor from a glass. "Take a seat. This won't take long."

Even relaxed as she was right now, the captain still held an aura of authority. Technically, Melya was off the hook but still hurried to follow the order.

"First things first, we'll be docking in a few minutes. You have been with us for a little over a month, right?" As Melya nodded, Vasquez languishingly pulled out a cred stick from her desk. "Five thousand. Your cut for time served."

A little hesitant, Melya reached for it. "I didn't expect to be compensated."

"You served as a pirate and you got paid like a pirate. Easy as that." The pirate captain took a good swig of her liquor before addressing Melya again. "Now listen. There is the matter of a little app in your head. Ask around the station for Old Tricone. She is sort of a retired pirate. Once you have been off the Talon - off any pirate ship - for a week, she can uninstall the app. Then you are clean. Ready to start your life anew."

Minus her original body. Five thousand was enough to book passage for anywhere in the quadrant and have a little bit more to start fresh. Melya doubted it would last if she paid for a male body again. A step she had to take if she wanted to become a sailor again. To traverse the stars on the legal side of things.

"There is something else I want you to think about." The captain had waited silently just for the moment as Melya wanted to stand up. "Celia talks highly of you. A fast learner. Rarely makes a mistake twice. And I have seen your test scores. We have plenty of pirates for boarding parties. That ain't the problem. Crew? That's harder. You could get a spot on my bridge. Move up the ladder."

The implication was clear to Melya. "If I stay, that is."

Vasquez shrugged and emptied her glass. "Think about it. The Talon will be docked here for a few days. My offer stands until we depart."

Melya stood up. Weighing the cred stick in her hand and the offer before her. "I'll give it some thought," she promised.

With a wave of the captain's hand, she was dismissed. Melya would be lying if she said she wasn't intrigued. Yet something held her back. Yes, she had fun. And catching a merchant ship was rewarding. In more ways than one. But she also reminded herself that this very ship has caused the destruction of another. Even if it had not been intended. One could argue that the captain of the Golden Swan had deserved it. But not the crew.

A quick change in the shower room and Melya was ready. She had to admit that Rowlin had some taste. The glamorous dress fitted her rather exotic complexion nicely. The shoes were a little on the iffy side for Melya. Too high of a heel, but she managed.

Her old teammates and Rowlin were already waiting at the airlock. Even a few of the general crew had gathered. Like the unofficial doctor Akinyi. "There she is! What took you so long?"

"I thought you would go ahead. The captain had a parting gift," Melya said while flashing the cred stick. Choosing to keep quiet about the offer.

Of course, Melya was among pirates, and showing any kind of wealth was a mistake. As Rowlin gave her a last lesson as a mentor. "I think Melya just volunteered to buy the first round!"

Groaning, Melya was swept up by the pirates. Herded along an unfamiliar station and to the entertainment promenade. While steering for a bar, Celia made sure Melya saw some of the attractions. "Those guys over there? Former sailors. The best of the best often retire early to set up shop in a pirate port. A few credits and they will show you the best of times."

Melya swallowed nervously. Right now, she wouldn't mind a tumble with any of these fine gentlemen. Would that change? Right now, she knew she was attracted to them because the pirate app influenced her cortical implant and through it, her body. If she got rid of the app in a week's time, would that change? Maybe not. She could have developed a taste for it that persisted into the future. There was only one way to find out.

"Shots! We need shots!" Rowlin shouted to the waitstaff as the group of pirates made their way into the bar. Melya's normally quite restrained teammates cut loose and were quite rowdy.

They found a booth that fit them all and the ordered shots arrived soon after. Before they drank, Celia stood up for a toast. "To Melya. A pirate not for long, but a pirate she was!"

Cheers erupted and Melya drank as the rest did. Whatever went down her throat was strong. She nearly coughed but managed to play it cool.

"Guys. Guys! Pipe down." Everyone looked to Rowlin who had stood up. As the pirates fell silent, her former mentor turned to Melya. "Did we just witness you drinking alcohol?" A little confused, Melya nodded. It was all Rowlin needed. "It's official. We can't call her Cappuccino anymore. She has become Irish Coffee."

Rambunctious laughter filled the booth while Melya let out a loud groan. If her first minute in the bar was any kind of metric, she was in for a wild ride.

---

When Melya awoke, she wondered who had installed a power converter in her head. It was badly tuned and buzzed around like an angry swarm of bees. Opening her eyes was another mistake. The light felt like it was stabbing her skull. It took entirely too much effort to sit up. Where was she and what happened? The glimpses she caught of her surroundings weren't a good sign. It was an unfamiliar space. Even more worrying were the solid steel bars that separated her cot from the rest of the room.

The laughter of a woman could be heard moments before she appeared with a man on her arms. Was that the captain? Melya was confused. What was going on?

The pair stopped before Melya's cell and the man casually spoke up. "Looks like our drunk bird woke up. She one of yours?"

Drunk? Melya's head was pounding like that could be the truth. But this was the worst hangover she ever got. Vaguely, she remembered hitting the bars with Rowlin and the others.

"Technically, no." The two words by Captain Vasquez somehow hurt worse than the pounding in her head. "We fished her out of the dark and she worked that off by sailing with us for a month. That ended yesterday. What did she do? Normally, being drunk is not enough to land in the tank."

The man - probably the station's constable - shrugged. "Oh, she wasn't violent or anything like that. Just raked up debt over two thousand credits."

Two thousand? How did she manage that? The shock sobered Melya up slightly more. Enough that some critical thinking returned. "I have-" She patted her body. Gone was the dress Rowlin gifted her. Instead, she wore some kind of overall. "Cred stick" she croaked out. "Have five thousand somewhere."

"Mind you, two thousand after spending five grand before," the constable clarified and shattered any hopes of Melya to get out of this on her own. "If she hadn't flashed the big money before, the bar staff would have been more vigilant to cut her off in time."

"You know, Melya-" Captain Vasquez's stance was the epitome of a disappointed mother bear. "I am starting to think your fast learning comes from using every opportunity to make mistakes."

Melya let her head hang. She really had messed up.

"I'll pay her bail and debt," Constanze said in a suffering tone. "Come on. Get up, Melya. You got lucky this time."

A little wobbly, Melya did as told. I'd only her headache would go away. After a brief exchange of necessities, she followed her captain out like a duckling after her mother. They arrived at the promenade and Vasquez didn't stop walking. Was she supposed to follow or just split? For now, chastised, Melya continued to hurry after her.

To the side, she spotted the male prostitutes that offered themselves up. A few caught her eyes again and she had hoped for a tumble with them. But now, she didn't have the credits. In fact, she was flat broke. How was she supposed to make ends meet? It would take seven days until she could get rid of the app. Without credits, she would starve long before. Not to mention that any transport off the station was out of her reach.

Even under the worst hangover ever, the solution was clear. "Uhm, captain?"

Vasquez looked over the shoulder but didn't stop. "You're still there? Well, what is it?"

Melya scratched her head nervously. "Is that offer still standing?"

The captain stopped. Turning back to get a good look at Melya. "Well, the Talon is still docked, but-" Her eyes lingered on Melya. At last, she relented. "Fine. If you are up for it, we could use you. Bridge crew is hard to find. Though in the future we may need to designate a chaperone for you."

"That's fair, I guess." Melya didn't even know she could drink like that. Her memory of the previous evening was a blur and full of holes.

"Come on," Vasquez urged her. "Your bunk is still free and I could guess you could use a bit more rest."

Dutifully, Melya followed her back to the ship. But she wasn't out of danger yet. Her next lecture waited at the airlock in the form of Rowlin, who had a shit-eating grin plastered on her face.

"Aww, look who couldn't live without us!" She gave Melya a tight hug, before pushing her at arm's length. "Phew, you smell like you drank half a distillery."

"My head feels like it too," Melya admitted. She'd probably should make a detour to the showers before hitting the bunk.

"Hey, don't feel sad about it," Rowlin said while energetically slapping Melya on the shoulder. "Some choose the pirate life. Sometimes pirate life chooses you."

"Yeah. Yeah." Melya slipped out of Rowlin's grasp and down the next hallway. "Save your wisdom for when I can listen."

"Hey! Where are you going? Your bunk is that way. Don't tell me you drunk your sense of orientation out of wack."

"Medbay!" Melya shouted back. There had to be something for her headache. "Cya later."

"Well. Well. Well." Akinyi was slouching behind her desk. "Look what the cat dragged in. Or the captain. Looks like she pulled through again."

"What?" Melya shook her head. Much too many words to make sense right now. "Do you have something for-"

Akinyi fished for one of the many identical syringes on her desk. "Always the same. One pirate-wake-up," she said while tossing it to Melya. "Good for hangovers and headaches."

At once, Melya used it and sighed in relief. The haze over her mind lifted and the pounding within her skull receded. "Exactly what I needed." She took a seat on one of the examination tables. "So, what was that about the captain?"

"Ah, I shouldn't have said anything." Akinyi gave a lazy shrug and blabbered on anyway. "She has a reputation, you know? Renowned for being good at recruiting pirates. A few of us were disappointed when you walked out of the ship. Others made bets. To see if the captain can still pull through."

Well, Melya being here again wasn't really the captain's fault. It was Melya's heavy drinking and spending that caused it. But something didn't add up. How the hell had she managed to spend over seven thousand credits anyway? And now that the hangover cleared away, fragments of the previous evening returned. It was hazy, but she could swear the captain had joined them in the bar.

Melya let herself fall flat on the table and giggled. "You know, you could have asked me nicely."

From the corner of her eyes, she saw Akinyi sit up. "Whatever are you talking about?"

"Oh, please. I am not drunk anymore. Now that I think about it, your plan was pretty obvious." Melya propped herself up on her elbows and looked at Akinyi. "Show me a good time. Get me drunk. Maybe make me forget that all the drinks are on my tab. The next morning I wake up miserable and broke. Captain to the rescue! Showing me how much I need you all. That I can't stand on my own."

"That's an interesting theory," Akinyi admitted slowly. "Hard to prove though."

Melya gave her a judging look. "I was partial to staying anyway. If you all had spoken to me then your chances had been good to convince me to stay. All your little plan did was rob me of seven thousand credits. Well, five. As far as I am concerned, you all owe me."

Akinyi relaxed a little. "A few hundred credits a head. Most would say that is a small price for you to stay."

"Oh, no. No. No. No." Melya waved Akinyi off and then leaned over to put some seriousness into her next words. "I looked forward to those hunkies on the promenade. Now I can even afford one romp. You all owe me a big O."

Akinyi let out a giggle that turned into laughter. "Good luck making the captain pay her dues. As for me- Well. I don't mind paying up right now. I've been itching to taste my latest creation for a while."

Melya grinned as she undid her coverall. "Don't let me stop you."

As Akinyi gave her a thorough and very invasive examination with her tongue, Melya couldn't help but muse that this wasn't so bad. Surely she could sail under Pink Sails for a tour or two. Maybe a dozen. Or until she made an officer. It all was better than starting over in the merchant marine as a lowly shipboy again. Yes, she definitely could get used to this.

The End.

How it all started? Okay. I can tell you. Not that you would believe me. No-one does. Hmm. Where to start? I guess it was when I lost my job at-

No, wait.

It started earlier.

Much earlier.

In fact, it was before I can even remember.

Here is how my parents used to tell it. I was born into a pretty normal family. Mom. Dad. An older sister by two years. The first few years were uneventful. That was until I was four and my sister six. She started a witch club together with her friends. And for whatever reason, four-year-old me wanted in. Of course, which little girl of six wants her little brother around when she plays with her friends. So she refused.

I did what all little children did when they couldn't get what they wanted. I threw a tantrum. Cried my eyes out until Mom stepped in. And it worked. Mom made my sister include me. Of course, my sister wasn't thrilled. But she always has been creative. I was dressed up - that part used to be only a pointy hat - and was deemed a cursed witch. As in an evil mage has trapped me in the body of a boy.

What can I say?

My sister wanted her witch club to be girls only.

I guess it made sense to pretend I was a girl too.

Just cursed.

You know how it is. Children race from one fantasy to the next to play out. But somehow, witch club always stayed. As my sister and I grew up it only got more elaborate. When I was six she dumped a violet wig on my head. A left-over from Halloween. Made me so proud. We grew closer together, my sister and I. Practically inseparable. And over the years the witch club lost members. But my sister and I kept it alive.

Sure. I admit.

By the time I was eleven the cross-dressing part became weird.

But for me, it was a small price to pay.

My best friend was my sister and this was how we connected.

Eventually, it became too much for me. Coincidently when I hit puberty. I guess when you "awaken as a man" then cross-dressing as a witch isn't very manly. So I quit. Biggest mistake of my life. Seriously. My sister was so into it, you wouldn't believe. She researched everything. Gone was the child's play. With each year she would research more about witches. Our pretend rituals became more realistic. And so would my witch disguise. And when she insisted on me wearing a bra stuffed with-

So, yeah. I quit.

It drove a wedge between me and my sister.

Without witch club, we slowly drifted apart.

By the time we were in our early twenties, our contact was reduced to two e-mails a year and Christmas at our parents.

It all changed when I was twenty-four and I lost my job. A few months of unemployment robbed me of nearly all my savings. I was looking at a bleak future. When I couldn't pay my landlord anymore it would have meant moving back again with my parents. What a low blow.

My sister came to the rescue.

Offered me to stay at her place.

Change of scenery and all that.

You see, while I stayed close to my parents, she had to fly far away. In her case, it was Portland Oregon. There she worked as some kind of crafter for the indie movie scene. Making all kinds of props. Even, now and then, replicas for a museum. I guess this was where she channeled all her years researching witches and rituals. She was good at finding out details for movies and such. Making props that looked a little better than those other makers made.

With nothing else to lose, I accepted her proposal.

She was right.

It certainly would be a change in scenery.

So, I rented a U-Haul trailer and did a little cross country road trip. Which ate my last savings. When I arrived at my sister's I was completely and utterly broke. Couldn't even pay for a simple hamburger at McDonald's. Thankfully, my sister took up the slack. Meanwhile, I vowed to get out of my funk. To get back on my own feet and get a job.

But I didn't.

Sure, I got here and there a day laborers job.

Yet, they never lasted.

My sister, bless her soul, never complained. I was a complete freeloader, yet she only had encouragement for me. But there was only so much she could do. Life was bearing down on me and depression became my new best friend. And while I pretty much gave up, my sister didn't.

I still remember clearly how one day she came home with such energy and good cheer.

"Bro, I found something amazing. See this manuscript? It is a translation of a translation that- It's old. Like really old. It describes the initiation ritual of witches down to the last detail. And the best thing is I can get all the stuff we need for it. It will be the best thing ever. Come on, Bro. How about a new meeting of the Witch Club?"

Of course, my first reaction was to refuse.

I knew my sister.

If she wanted to do this then it had to be authentic.

Which would mean that I had to dress up as a witch.

Crossdress in more detail than never before.

It took her less than a week to wear me down. I mean I knew why she wanted to do it. Not because she was enthusiastic about the manuscript. Hell, I honestly believed it was a prop she made herself. No, it was her way of trying to cheer me up. I had loved our Witch Club when I was a kid. Back then before it got awkward. In fact, it never really left me. To this day I have a small rubber witch on my keychain. The paint had long flaked off. To everyone else, it was a blob of rubber. For me, it still was the witch that my sister gifted me when I was nine.

The next week was hell.

As soon as I agreed I was in for the long haul.

Doesn't sound so bad?

My sister's obsession to make everything authentic had reached a new manic height. Not only had I to wear a dress. It had to be one made of natural materials. Mostly linen. My first time wearing make-up was spend receiving a lecture on how every ingredient was organic. If it wasn't coming from nature, then it had no place in the ritual. I caught a break in regards to prosthetics. I had dreaded that she would push some plastic blobs on my chest or something. To mimic breasts of course. The alternative turned out to be small sacks filled with cherry pits.

I soon was stressed out more by my sister than my lack of employment.

In my spare time, of which I had plenty, I had to practice.

Most of all how to dance.

Not modern dances, mind you. But the ritual dance we had to perform.

It all came to a conclusion on mid-summer solstice. Because of course, it had to be this day. My sister wouldn't settle for any other day, save for winter solstice. We drove deep into the woods. Which wasn't that hard in Portland. Maybe an hour of drive. I already wore most of my outfit. Which drove me nearly nuts. Try wearing linen panties, bra, and dress. It is itchy as hell. Especially if you were only used to artificial fibers as textiles.

As we parked her SUV at the end of a dirt road my suffering was deepened. In the shine of her car's headlights, it was time for my make-up and wig. I didn't let her put those on me before. Someone could have seen me, you know? Of course, the wig was one hundred percent human hair. Which was a little creepy.

By now you must be wondering why I suffered through it all.

I must admit, when we walked into the woods, I became excited.

This was just like the old days. Just better.

I forgot about embarrassment or my crossdressing.

It was time for Witch Club.

At that moment I felt connected with my sister again.

It also helped that my big sister found the perfect location for our little ritual. A small clearing in the woods and in the middle was a large monolithic stone. It was perfect. Too perfect I suspected. I mean my sister worked in the movie industry as a prop maker. It wasn't hard to count one and one together and come to the conclusion that she had helped this location a little along.

While the last rays of sun vanished beyond the horizon we were busy setting up. We had bundles of candles that all had to be scattered in just the right places. Which was harder than you could imagine as it was nearly completely dark. We didn't want to light the candles too early. Twigs, flowers, and bags of herbs were placed on the monolith. All arranged to a specific pattern.

We were done an hour before midnight.

By that time I was wound up and excited.

My brain knew it was fake, but my heart told me I was on the cusp of something extraordinary.

What still amuses me was the ritual words. Of course, we couldn't speak some dead language. Plain old English it was. The only concession my sister allowed. We spoke the words and started the dance. We circled the monolith. Step by step we followed an ancient dance.

I was into it.

A lot.

For a moment I forgot that it was just made pretend.

That I was not really a witch initiate.

That I was a man beneath the disguise.

The circle was way too big. My sister dancing opposite of me. I remembered thinking that it could use a few more dancers. When a few more appeared - seemingly out of thin air - I was briefly annoyed. It was supposed to be ritual just with her and me. But no, she had to go all out. Hire co-workers to flesh it all out. But a moment later I didn't care anymore. This dance felt magical and the feeling grew with each step I took.

At that moment I ignored a lot of things.

There was a small pang of annoyance at my sister.

All-natural my ass as floating lights appeared.

She must have hired some special effects guy to flesh out the ceremony.

But you know what? Fuck it.

I was so committed to the role they could have dropped a pink elephant into the circle and I wouldn't have reacted.

Eventually, the dance slowed down. The dancers formed a half-circle around the monolith. Beckoning my sister and me to step into the middle. There was this old woman waiting for us. She looked so regal that it spit into anyone's face who said women couldn't age gracefully. Despite her old age, she had such beauty and life etched into her face. I had never seen her before, but damn this actress must be worth a lot. How could my sister have afforded her?

What came next was a monologue in English. If it hadn't been for that I might have accepted the whole ritual as real. You might not understand how immersed I was. Everything was perfect. My body flooded with endorphins and adrenaline. At least, I understood English. Which helped as I spoke my vows. To uphold nature. To be kind to every living being. To not abuse the powers that I was to receive.

At that moment I felt magical.

As if the supernatural really existed and entered my body.

There was a tingle, followed by a brief numbness.

Never had goosebumps so strong in my life.

At last, we were crowned with a wreath of flowers. A few parting words and the women around us vanished. As if they were ghosts that departed our world again. All I could think that it was amazing how far practical special effects had come. I vowed to ask my sister later how they had managed that.

When we walked back to the car I was on an all-time high.

Forgotten the dreadful months before.

My sisters plan to cheer me up had worked to the T.

At last, I was gushing something like: "This was amazing. And those effects. You and your co-workers really outdid yourself. A little mad that you sprung that on me, but now I am so happy you did. Just awesome."

I didn't notice that my sister stopped walking.

But I heard her clearly.

"You think those were special effects?"

I turned around.

"Of course. What else?"

"I told no-one," she insisted. "It was real."

At that point, I was still amused. How I couldn't I? She was sticking to her totally real ritual story a little longer than necessary. I shrugged and grinned. But the grin was wiped off my face soon enough. Imagine trying to remove make-up that wasn't there. Grabbing for a wig cap, but only finding long natural hair. Opening your dress only to find your brassier filled with real breast tissue instead of cherry stone filled bags.

I had turned into a woman.

Down to the last detail.

And I hadn't even noticed it.

Lost in a ritual that I thought was just play pretend.

Imagine my panic growing as I rifled through the things that I had left in the car. My driving license was made out to a female version of myself. A new name already was chosen for me. And the little line "sex: female" was like a nail in my coffin. Next, I unlocked my phone, only to get a new shock. The group shot with friends that I had set as background had changed. All my friends remained the same, but my likeness was changed. I was a girl there too. Every other picture on my phone altered in the same way.

The drive home was a quiet one.

We both shocked about what had transpired.

All our lives, we had play pretended witches were real.

But had we really believed in it? No.

It was early in the morning. Maybe around 2 AM when we arrived home. Both of us exhausted. There was this vague hope that everything would turn back to normal after a good night of sleep. But the witches weren't done with us yet. Or more specifically a certain witch. She waited for us as we came home.

"Took you long enough," was the first thing she said. "Youth these days."

Of course, we had questions.

Turned out we were after all witch initiates. But not actual witches.

We needed a teacher, and she was it.

The harshest lecture came soon.

"Of course, you are a woman? Why wouldn't you be?" As we told her that I used to be a man she became thoughtful. "Those before us, witches of the past, wouldn't make a mistake like that. There had to be a reason why they changed you. No witch would change a living being without reason. Unless- Did you present yourself as a woman?"

And there it was.

The big mistake.

The lie so old that I never doubted it.

Now I could say "See, sister? Men can be witches too. I don't have to dress up to play with you in the witch club."

But what would that do in hindsight?

I couldn't go back. To be asking to be changed back would be a disgrace to the witches of the past. They had given me a gift. Who was I to reject it? Not to mention that life goes on. And it wasn't so bad being a woman. At least for the small-time that I had been one. Of course, for everyone else, I had always been one. Even my parents only remembered me as one.

That's why no one believes me.

You probably won't believe me either.

I have no proof and who believes in magic anyway?

I know I didn't.

Sorry, I have to go now. Time is running short and my new teacher expects me over at her house. I may not be one hundred percent sold on being a woman, but being a witch is awesome. Way better than Hogwarts.

Maybe one day you will be a witch too.

It starts with believing.

Until then.

Hello readers,

Cassy Bee here.
I was recently pointed to a witch by a friend.
Said it was right in my wheelhouse. She guessed right.

I did a little interview and got a great story.
As it was fairly sentimental I decided my usual writing style wouldn't do.

So I "borrowed" Enemy Of Fun's style as an experiment.
How well it worked?
You tell me in the comments.

Hugs and kisses,
Cassy

Keegan Moore yawned and rolled himself out of bed. Grumbling he headed for the shower and stopped dead in his tracks. On the door to his bathroom hang a gorgeous summer dress. One he wouldn't mind seeing on Audrey, his girlfriend. Taped to it was a post-it note. "Just think about it," it said. Signed with "Mom".

Shaking his head he walked into his bathroom. The quick hot shower swept out the last cobwebs in his head. Energized and ready for the day he dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and headed downstairs.

As he entered the kitchen he stopped dead in his tracks. Freda Preston, the latest girlfriend of his father, sat at the dinner table. She was reading a newspaper and was wearing his mothers favorite morning robe.

Keegan's mind caught up and deciphered the clues. "Morning Mom," he greeted her. "So you finally got lucky with Freda?"

Of course, it was a rhetorical question. Still, his mother answered cheerfully. "Sure did. I must say I like this body. And good morning son. Though I wish I could say good morning my daughter."

Keegan rolled his eyes. For the last half year, his mother tried to get him to become a girl. The dress on the door to his bathroom was just the last, not so subtle, nudge from his mother.

"I saw that," his mother accused him. "Look. I know I am quite pushy on the matter. But it is better to rip off the band-aid now than later. I don't want you to end up like your uncle. Stuck in a monastery as a nun just because he can't get himself to sleep with a man."

Keegan nodded. It made sense and he knew his mother meant well. Still, he was hesitant. Once he would have lost his virginity to Audrey, he would become her. Thanks to the gift his family was blessed with. Though his uncle might argue that it was a curse.

As far as he could remember his mother or father had been a string of changing bodies. Only his or her mannerisms were the one constant he could count on. Such was the cosmic deal his family had to live with.

In his family, everyone changed bodies while sleeping. They took the form of one of their last seven individual sex partners at random. That was the reason why his mother was today in the body of Freda. She must have slept with her recently when she had been in a male body.

For Keegan, it was a weird way to grow up. Sometimes his father was his mother or vice versa. He was also the only one who could notice it. His family bend reality with each body change. Changing memories and physical details around them as they changed bodies.

It was a strange trait and one that had a daunting future for Keegan. Once he had sex with someone he will never see the body again he had been grown up with. The only way to prevent the loss of his body was to remain a virgin forever.

"There is a party tonight," Keegan volunteered. "Just Audrey and a few friends at her house. Her parents are gone for the weekend."

"Perfect! See you tomorrow then."

Keegan shook his head with a small grin. Other teenagers had to beg their parents to stay out late. Ever since his puberty, he had to beg his mother if he wanted to return on the same night.

"Just don't get your hopes up," he told her while reaching for his cereals.

* * * * * * * * * *

"This is fun," Audrey whispered into Keegan's ear. "But I know something that would be even better."

It was late and most of her guests had left. Now his girlfriend pulled him up with a giggle. He knew what was on her mind. She had tried before and he gently had declined it. But he knew he couldn't avoid it forever. With a loud beating heart he followed her upstairs.

He had been in her room before, but this time it was different. She gently pushed him on her bed and then climbed on top of him. Keegan responded like every straight young man seeing their girlfriend slowly strip her clothes. He was hard and ready, yet Audrey took her time. Slowly, piece by piece, her clothes landed on the floor. Revealing her slender and athletic body. Her gentle curves were pure perfection in Keegan's eyes. Those were hungry, as he devoured every detail of her marvelous body.

When only her bra and panties remained she started on Keegan's clothes and he was eager to get rid of them too. Once naked she leaned down and whispered in his ears.

"Do you want me to get rid of my panties?" Eagerly he nodded. "Then you have to wear something for me."

At that moment he would have worn anything for her. Be it a pink ballerina dress or a neon green dinosaur costume. To his relieve, she pulled out a condom. He knew he had hit the jackpot with her. Not just good looking, she was also smart.

Once they had protection Audrey hesitated. Gently Keegan took her hand. "Take all the time you need. You dictate the speed."

She gave him a brilliant smile and with renewed courage, she slowly lowered herself onto him.

* * * * * * * * * *

Keegan woke up to a strange new sensation. Someone was playing with his nipples, yet it felt alien and different. Not in a bad way. The opposite in fact. Lazily he opened his eyes and looked into Audrey's deep brown eyes.

"Morning Kerry. Did you sleep well? Well enough for a round two?" Audrey greeted him.

Keegan let out a small moan as Audrey's playing with his nipples clearly got to him. But his mind slowly noticed the small curiosities. Did she call him Kerry? Since when felt his nipples so good? Did they shift around a little as if-

He looked down and nearly screamed. He had breasts! More than that. He had a whole different body. One he knew. He had Audrey's body. Of course. His family's trait. Now that he remembered his heart-rate slowed down. Not by much as Audrey deftly grabbed his tits and pushed her mouth on his.

After a moment she let go of him and leaned back. One of her legs sneaked between his own and soon she shifted closer. Suddenly he was aware that he not only felt one pussy but two as Audrey start to grind her own against his.

Soon Keegan was panting heavily and experienced one of the best ways to discover a newly given female body.

After they both climaxed, Audrey let herself fall down beside him. There was a moment of silence as they just grinned at each other and enjoyed each other's embrace.

It was Audry who broke the silence with a giggle. "So Kerry. Tell me. I find the one girl on the planet that looks exactly like me and I just had sex with her. What does that make me? Am I now a lesbian or the biggest narcissist?"

Kerry, formerly Keegan, needed a moment to gather her thoughts. Audrey had been straight before. But Kerry's family trait had whacked her over. It adjusted the reality around her to fit each body.

"I don't know. However, I do know that you made me a very lucky ... girl."

"As you did with me," Audrey beamed. "I am gonna take a shower."

Kerry watched her girlfriend saunter to her attached bathroom. At that moment she felt stuck. As if she would spend a long time in her girlfriend's body. Maybe forever. Because at this moment Kerry couldn't imagine every cheating on Audrey with anyone else.

"Aren't you joining me?" Audrey asked as she turned around to face her.

"Definitely better than a nunnery," Kerry murmured to herself, before pushing herself off the bed. She still had a lot to learn about her new body and it looked like she was about to get a crash course. Not that she minded.

The abrupt opening of the front door with force made Astrid jerk awake. She managed to straighten up just in time as a customer stormed into the shop. Said customer looked trashy with her huge breasts, pouty lips, and massive bubble butt. It made Astrid cringe. She had a hunch what this was about.

"You!" the woman shouted while pointing at Astrid. "It is all your fault!"

"Miss, please calm down," Astrid said while raising her hands in a none threatening gesture.

"Calm down? CALM DOWN? Look at me!" The woman yelled. "This is not what I wanted."

"You are a previous customer?" Astrid asked.

"I was just here yesterday," the woman yelled back.

Astrid furrowed her brows. "We had only one customer yesterday. It was a man who bought ..."

"Exactly!" the woman snapped. "I was that man. It was me who bought a hair tonic against receding hairline and now look at me."

"A full mane of hair," Astrid observed dryly.

"No! Yes. But it also turned me into a woman! And I look like one of those tramps who pick up sailors at the docks!"

"Miss. You are aware that this is an unlicensed potion brewery shop? We are not part of the guild."

"What does that have to do with anything?" the blond snapped.

"Well...," Astrid said and pointed to a sign behind her.

Due to this being an unlicensed shop we only have access to second-grade ingredients. As result side effects may occur. These can be: a runny nose, extensive sneezing for a few days, magical drunkenness, hiccups, bend gender, blue hair, fast-growing toenails, spontaneous barking, and slight rashes. By buying potions from us you agree to know about these side effects and acknowledge us as not responsible for occurring side effects.

"T-that..." the woman cut herself off. She cursed herself and then muttered. "I knew I should have taken my business to a licensed potion brewer! How am I supposed to pay now for a potion to get my gender back?"

"I think you mentioned job opportunities at the docks...," Astrid suggested.

"How dare you! I will tell everyone to stay away from this scam of a shop." And just like that, the woman stormed out again.

With a deep sigh and a shake of her head, Astrid stood up. The shop would be fine for a moment and walked into the backroom. There, behind potions and books, was a man napping.

Astrid grabbed a broom and poked him with it over the clutter that littered the room.

"What?" the man asked confused. Looking around the room till his eyes found Astrid. "What is it?"

"Master Alard, we had another customer complaining about side effects."

"Astrid, they always complain about side effects. You did show them the sign, right?

"Of course. But since I started working here three customers complained about side effects."

"Side effects may vary and occasionally occur. Nothing unusual."

"Of course it is. We only had three customers and all ended up genderbend."

"Do we have a problem?" Master Alard asked sharply.

"Look," Astrid said while stemming her hands on her hips. "I don't care how customers leave this shop. With tits or with a dick or both. I want to get paid for my work and those three customers can't even cover half of what you owe me for one week of work."

"One week of napping is more it," Master Alard said and quickly raised his hands. "Now don't get angry. You will get paid. We don't really need those customers."

"But..."

"Don't worry. Think about it. Who profits if customers stay away from unlicensed potion shops?"

"The guild? You work for the guild?"

"Of course not," Alard said with a grin. "Deniability. You understand. My shop may receive some donated funds each month though."

"I see," Astrid said and gave him a grin. "Then I better get back to work and sell useless potions." She turned to leave, but then stopped. "One last question. Does everything sold in this shop bend genders?"

"Of course not!" Master Alard said with mock annoyance. "All but the gender-bending potion."

Astrid laughed and slipped out. To resume her napping behind the counter.

Aiden bumped awake as the hover transport levitated over a ditch and couldn't quite compensate. Not that it was surprising. It was an older transport. The magitron engine keeping it in the air had a slight whine to it instead of the soft hum of modern ones. In addition, there was the roar of the aetheric condenser thrusters that couldn't be quite muffled by the battered and worn-down hull. It had been a wonder that Aiden had managed to fall asleep in the first place.

Looking around, Aiden saw that he hadn't been the only one napping. To his left was his uncle. The hardy man was softly snoring. He wouldn't be described as handsome even in his prime. Now, after a hard life, he looked worse. Aiden wondered if he'd look like that too in ten years. If he lived that long.

Signing up with bandits and outlaws was a death sentence. But in his uncle's words, it was better to live short and bright than live long and in misery. And that would have been Aiden's future too. Spending his days of youth and old age on a forgotten rural planet that was so run down that backwater planets spit on it mockingly. When the offer came to join Guston's Marauders, he signed up without hesitation.

As the small door to the cockpit of the transport slammed open more than one unwashed bandit jerked awake and cursed. Not too loud as Guston entered the small cabin. No one wanted to piss off their leader.

"Listen up, boys!" their leader said and everyone fell silent. "We'll be arriving in five, so pay attention. This job ain't like others and if it works, we'll be rich. I bet some of you wondered why we stole a sleeve gun from the black markets of Agregon."

More than a few of them twitched when their last job was mentioned. They had lost two of their crew and three others had gotten holes in their bodies that weren't meant to be there. At least they survived.

All for a sleeve gun. Guston hadn't explained why they needed such a cursed and highly illegal weapon. Anyone hit by it would turn into a sleeve. Their body would hollow out and be practically dead, yet still alive. Others could wear that sleeve and through magic, temporarily turn into the person. It was the number one tool of identity thieves. It was also considered murder. While the sleeves were still alive and the soul within conscious, the process couldn't be reversed. Leaving the victims in this horrible fate forever.

"What most of you don't know is that those who wear a sleeve can access the sleeves memories," Guston continued. He then held up a battered computer tablet with more than a few cracks on it. It displayed two pictures of a young woman. On the left was a professional mugshot and on the right was barely out-of-focus shot from a surveillance camera. "This is Catherine Van Deckstett. Seventh daughter and heiress of a very wealthy merchant family. At least until she said 'fuck it' and robbed her own family's most secure vault. Making away with a small fortune. Boys, that's enough dough to retire for each of us on a nice vacation planet. Catherine has been in hiding for the past ten years. There is a sizable bounty on her head. But we ain't here for that."

The picking up murmurs fell silent as Gaston continued. "We sleeve her and then one of you lads will wear her. This will allow us to get access to the memories of little miss thieving Van Deckstett. And the location where she hid her stolen goods."

"I ain't no wearing a bitch's skin!" one bandit shouted out and the sentiment was quickly picked up by the rest of the crew.

"Well, thankfully, we have a young boy eager to prove himself, right?"

All eyes turned to Aiden who felt suddenly very much put on the spot. He had no choice but to do it, yet he shouldn't be too eager about it. Else he would lose what little respect earn from his fellow outlaws.

"Be a bitch for five minutes to fuck bitches for the rest of my life on some tropical beach? Not to mention I won't be needing seeing your ugly mugs anymore," Aiden said into the round. "Count me in."

That statement got him a few claps on the shoulder. Apparently, he had struck the right balance of reluctance and agreement.

"Right now, she is holed up as a bar owner in Westcliff Crossroads under the name Alleen Eiger. Not the best part of town. Remote and full of low-lives. We'll blend right in." Guston glanced at the tablet and then nodded. "It is one twenty-three in the morning. By two she usually closes up. We will walk in there and wait until everyone else leaves. Then we strike. Order a drink or two, but don't get drunk."

On cue, the transport slowed down. Aiden could feel the vehicle maneuver around until they reached a parking spot. As they felt the thunk of the transport landing, Guston pulled open the heavy sliding side door. "Come on, boys. Time to get our throats wet and get rich while at it."

Cheers erupted around Aiden, who didn't pitch in. For the payoff proposed, this appeared too easy. He didn't like that one bit. Still, he left the vehicle and did his best to act like the others. A rough bunch looking to drink the night away.

Contrary to the patrons, the inside of the bar was surprisingly clean. Alleen obviously took care of it. Speaking of the bar owner, as they entered, Aiden caught her eyes. She was beautiful. Even more so than her pictures suggested. Gone was the prim and proper clothing and instead, she clearly wore something that made her feel sexy. Some top that was more a collection of belts and buckles than fabric and leather pants that were skin-tight. The way she quickly checked him out clued him in that the attraction was mutual. Sadly, he knew it would never work out. Her fate was as good as sealed.

Aiden joined his group who piled themselves around two large tables. Their presence more than tripled the number of customers. Here and there a lone drunk was stashed away in one corner or another. Minding their own drinks and business.

"You are new here," Alleen said as she came over with a notepad and pen. "Not that I mind. But just that you know. One round only. I'll be closing in half an hour."

"Fine with us," Guston spoke up before one of his crew could screw things up.

They ordered a drink each and quite unusually only nursed it instead of inhaling. It didn't take long for the other customers to leave. Once Alleen refused to refill glasses, the drunks left to search for another place to fuel their addiction.

"Bottoms up, boys," Guston said as he downed the rest of his own drink. As the crew followed suit, he stood up. Barring his gun.

Alleen was quick on the uptake. She raised her hand before even half of the crew drew weapons and took strategic positions. "Look. Guys. No trouble, okay? There isn't much in the till, but what's there is-"

She fell silent as a bright blue bolt struck her midriff. There was a shocked look in her eyes as she made out the sleeve gun in Guston's hand and what fate was promised to her. A blink later and she just crumbled on the spot. As if someone had removed her spine from one moment to the next. Aiden knew that was in a way correct. Not just her spine had vanished.

"Lad," Guston said and turned around to look at Aiden. "Time for your part."

There was a sudden queasy feeling in Aiden's stomach. Making his way behind the bar it only got worse. As if any moment now everything could go to shit. He should feel the opposite. The hard part was done. Alleen slash Catherine was sleeved. All he had to do was slip in and get the relevant memory.

What was left of the heiress turned thief laid crumpled among her clothing. Aiden needed a moment to extract her from it. What he then held was just an empty hull of skin. With a slit in her back for someone to slide into. Aiden knew that would be him.

He wasn't sure how the sleeve would handle clothing. Just to be sure, Aiden undressed. There were a few jokes and rude comments by the crew, but Aiden ignored them. Now wasn't the time to chicken out.

Once naked, Aiden pushed his left leg in. The feeling of doing so surprised him. It was oddly sensual. The inside was still warm and a little slick. As if it was lubricated just for him. He could already feel the magic at work once his left foot arrived inside Alleen's foot. He now had miss-matched legs. The left one was very feminine and shorter, while the right one was slightly longer and more muscular.

Before he could think about it and freak out, Aiden pushed his right leg in. It went in smoothly. Just like the first. To his shame, the feeling was pleasurable enough that he got stiff between the legs. To hide it was easy. Aiden just had to pull up Alleen's crotch and hips over his own. Doing so made his erection vanish. From the waist down, he now really looked and felt like a woman.

Now it was time for the torso. Aiden was at a loss on how to best tackle slipping into it. Yet a moment later, he knew. As if he had done it before. He pushed in both arms halfway in and then used them to help guide his head. As the sleeve slipped in place, Aiden couldn't tell anymore where it ended and his body began. Just like with the legs, his original body was seemingly overwritten.

"This is so freaky," Aiden said aloud and was shocked as the voice coming out wasn't his own. He definitely sounded now like Alleen.

Nearly done, Aiden was eager to get this over with. Even though this felt good, he'd rather return to his own body. Sadly this was one of those instances where it would get worse before it got better.

Pushing his arms the rest of the way into the sleeve made them sleek and feminine. It also caused his torso to slip into place. A moment later, he knew what it felt like to have breasts. Now, all that was left was to close the slit in the back and he would have turned completely into Alleen.

"Let me get that for you."

Aiden frowned. That sounded like Alleen. But her voice didn't come out of her throat. Now his throat. He heard her directly in his head.

"How-"

His question tethered off as he felt the slit close by itself. Slowly, from the bottom up, it fused. As it went past his waist, it contracted. Giving him a slight hourglass figure. Then, it finished, and Aiden's shoulders narrowed. He knew that now, he was an exact copy of Alleen. Aiden couldn't even feel his original body anymore.

"And?" Guston asked as he leaned on the bar. Making Aiden uncomfortable as his new naked form was studied. "Can you access her memory? Where is the treasure?"

Something behind Guston drew Aiden's attention. In the background, outside the bar, something had moved. It was just for a moment and he couldn't quite figure out what it had been.

"You might want to duck," Alleen whispered in his mind.

"What?"

"I asked if you can access her," Guston said in response. "Listen, lad, if you-"

"DUCK!" Alleen screamed in his head. Aiden threw himself on the ground by instinct. Not a second too soon as the windows of the bar exploded inward. While he couldn't see them, Aiden heard the many bullets impacting or ricocheting around.

"To cover!" Someone shouted. Not Guston. Their leader was hunched dead over the bar and dripped blood from a dozen wounds. "Return fire. Make these fucke-"

"Don't just cower here," Alleen said in his head. "Bothley and his crew won't take long to finish them off. You better get dressed before they do. If they find a naked Alleen - namely you - they'll get suspicious."

"How did you-"

Aiden's question cut off as a quick memory flashed through his mind. It wasn't his own, but Alleen's. It was her a second before she raised her arms in surrender to Guston. With her left foot, she had hit a small camouflaged button on the ground. Alerting the local sheriff that she was in trouble.

With curses, Aiden grabbed for the discarded clothes and frantically tried to slip into them.

"Why are your pants so tight?"

"Because they make our butt look great," Alleen answered in his head. "Hurry! I don't think your gang will last much longer."

Finally done with the leather pants, Aiden grabbed for the belted top. Nearly despairing seeing this many buckles. It was a complicated mess. Yet suddenly it made sense. He knew how to unbuckle it and shimmy into the top. As if he had done so dozens of times before. He even knew how to close it up in the right order so the belts wouldn't dig into his breasts.

"Alleen? Are you alright?"

Apparently, the gunfight had ended without Aiden noticing. The voice he heard belonged to Bothley, the local sheriff. How Aiden knew that - despite never meeting that guy - was freaking him out a little. Yet on instinct, he pushed out a "yeah, sweetie" just as he slipped into rugged leather boots with a slightly raised heel.

"Kick your old clothes under the counter!" Alleen reminded him. Just in time, he complied before someone rugged rounded the bar. It was Bothley. Local sheriff, ex-special forces, avid bodybuilder, and a beast in bed. The memory of Alleen and him fucking, Aiden could have done without.

Bothley offered his hand for Alleen. Not knowing that it was Aiden who grabbed it and not the original barkeep. As Aiden got to his feet, Bothley pulled him close and planted a deep long kiss on him. While Aiden was startled, instincts he hadn't known existed woke up. Returning quite eagerly the affection offered. And while they kissed, more memories flooded Aiden's brain. Bothley and Alleen had been lovers for a while. The montage of kisses and fuck-scenes was enough to convince him.

"Boss. Boss!" A deputy broke through the pleasant haze that enveloped Aiden. Breaking the kiss, Aiden saw Terril. A buddy turned deputy of Bothley and ex-army as well. Alleen had also fucked him. The same counted for all other deputies as well. What made Aiden's stomach lurch and blood run cold was what Terril was holding. "Sleeve gun, boss. One shot was fired."

Aiden knew he was in deep shit as Bothley took a step back. Looking worried at him. Maybe already guessing that the Alleen in front of him wasn't the real one.

"Repeat after me," Alleen whispered in his head. "They did. I am fine, sweetie. They missed."

More than a little worried, Aiden repeated the prompt out loud. Why Alleen was helping him impersonate her, he couldn't tell. He just hoped she would continue to do so.

"I wish I could believe you," Bothley said as his hand fell on his holstered gun. "I need to see your back."

"Go ahead," Alleen whispered. "There is nothing to worry about."

"Fine," Aiden pressed out. Not sure if to Bothley or the Alleen in his head. This time the belted top opened up easier for him. Yet, in the end, he still hesitated.

"Go ahead," Alleen urged him. "They all have seen this body nacked."

"I know you fucked them all," Aiden thought angrily. Alleen chuckled. Making him wonder if she could read his thoughts.

Though caught off-guard, Aiden tossed the stupid top aside. Who designed such impractical things anyway? Now was the moment of truth. He slowly turned around. Hoping Alleen was on his side and this wasn't a mistake.

Once his back was to Bothley, the sheriff let two fingers glide down Aiden's spine. "Unblemished and lovely as always, Alleen," he said before pulling Aiden's waist closer and giving a kiss on his neck. "One can never be too careful with sleeve guns. You understand, right babe?"

Aiden somehow knew how to proceed from here. He turned around and gave his best impression of Alleen. Namely twisting around in Bothley's grasp and then planting a needy kiss on the sheriff's lips. To his surprise, he actually liked it. Felt his nipples stiffen and a heat awakened in his loins. It was the first time he experienced female arousal, yet it felt familiar. It must be the memories of Alleen that guided him.

After a moment, Aiden pushed away. If borrowed memory serves right, this could lead to sex. Maybe even with the whole group. He wasn't sure if the original Alleen was a nymphomaniac or if it was her way to buy loyalty. Bothley and his crew were ex-forces after all. She could do worse for bodyguards.

"I know," Aiden said aloud and then looked around the bar. Every deputy of Bothley's sheriff department was good and hale. The same couldn't be said for Guston's gang. They were a bloody mess. Shot to pieces. Their blood was dripping everywhere. Aiden nearly flinched as he saw his uncle. A few bullet holes in the chest, but it was probably the one in the head that did him in.

Memories flashed through his mind. This wasn't the first time the bar was in shambles or shot to pieces. It made him involuntarily laugh. "Look," he said and pointed with Alleen's delicate hand at the one surviving window. "That's got to be a first."

"You know what they say. There is a first time for everything." Bothley gave Aiden a cheeky grin. It didn't waver as he pulled out his gun and shot the window to pieces without even looking. "But not today for this one."

Aiden rolled his eyes. He didn't even have to act like Alleen. It came naturally. "You are paying for this one."

"Babe, of course." Bothley gave Aiden a cheeky smile. "As always, I pay for everything. How about you go upstairs and the boys and I will clean up. The guys of the morgue complained it was too boring lately. They'll have fun. And in an hour, I'll join you upstairs. Sounds good?"

"Do a good job and I might reward you later," Aiden promised. Then wondered why. He had to pretend to be Alleen, but the promise sounded pretty much like an offer for sex. Aiden wasn't into men, yet the prospect to do it with Bothley excited him. It shouldn't be possible, but were more than just Alleen's memories available to him? Acting as her came naturally to him. As if more than memory was available. Could he still trust his own instinct and reasoning?

"I'll go make the call," Bothley said to Aiden and then turned around to his deputies. "Stop staring at my girlfriend's tits. Make yourself busy."

The people around him sprang to action, but Aiden was at a loss of what to do. Thankfully Alleen had his back. "Now is your chance. Walk behind the bar. There is a plank of wood in the floor that is of lighter color. It can be removed. Hide your clothes in there before any of Bothley's men find it."

Startled, Aiden needed a moment to react. Then looked for an unobserved opportunity to do as Alleen had said. Still, he couldn't help but wonder and addressed her in his mind. "Why are you helping me?"

"Later," Alleen shot back. "When we are alone."

The answer was unsatisfactory, but there was nothing Aiden could do. Instead, he crouched down to remove the plank. Aiden had only seconds to do the deed, but he still lost two as he saw the contents of Alleen's hidden stash. Not the cash or half dozen of passports inside gave him pause. It was the gnarly looking sawed-off shotgun.

A memory of Alleen surfaced. He knew that the weapon was loaded with curse-bearing shells. If the fragments of the shells didn't kill you, then the magic would finish you off. A nasty way to go. A cold shudder went through Aiden as he realized that Alleen had plenty of time to retrieve the gun and blast Guston's gang to hell before they had made their move. Instead, she had played docile and even had led herself being sleeved. What was her plan?

Snapping out of it, Aiden quickly hid his clothes and then replaced the plank. Just in time as a deputy walked behind the bar. "Everything alright, Alleen?"

"Sure," Aiden said and gave him a smile. Hoping it didn't look too forced. Then he grabbed the belted top he had thrown aside previously. "Just retrieving my top."

As Aiden stood up, the shattering alerted him to the deputies broke the last pieces of damaged windows. Before he could wonder, a new memory surfaced. Apparently broken windows happened so often that Alleen had installed a system to help her out. Aiden waited until the deputies were done and then switched on a system inlet into the bar's counter. Amber force fields sprang into life. But those were temporary. A milky white substance crawled over the fields from all sides. Aiden now knew that this white sap would harden into a solid pane and be even more durable than the windows. A temporary fix until new windows would be set in.

Aiden didn't stick around to witness what was going on. Instead, with the top in hand, Aiden walked towards the backdoor marked as private. Behind it was a hallway that led to a small kitchen that was rarely used and a staircase to the second floor. Climbing up, Aiden made his way into Alleen's apartment.

After closing the door, Aiden collapsed against it. Too much happened in such a small frame of time and his mind desperately tried to catch up. Leaving him exhausted in its wake.

"Just what the hell is going on?" he whispered to himself.

Of course, he wasn't alone. Not really. Alleen took the opportunity to speak up. "Well, you and your buddies came to my bar and tried to sleeve me. I can guess you know who I really am. But I can speak to anything on your end before you stepped into me. I can share my memories and skills. Not the other way around."

"How can you even speak to me? Sleeves shouldn't be able to." Then Aiden was reminded of a terrifying fact. Just to make sure, Aiden felt his backside. He couldn't feel the seam that should allow him to slip out of the Alleen sleeve. "And where did the slit go?"

"I think it is better if I show you."

A memory surfaced. It was an older one. Back from when Alleen still had been known as Catherine. It was a memory of shock and anger. Aiden saw her parents at the moment that they had revealed an arranged marriage. To lord Dunsley of all people. That guy had a face only a mother could love. Not to mention that he was a bore in every conversation. The echo of those strong emotions of disgust and rejection flooded Aiden. Catherine was having none of it. She would hatch a plan to escape and make her family pay.

The scene switched. It was the seedy part of the city Catherine had grown up in. Aiden knew instinctively that this wasn't the first visit. She was here for an arranged meeting with a contact. It was in a bar not unlike Alleen now owned. It was love at first sight. The roguish thief she intended to hire stole her heart at first glance. But it was an equal exchange. He fell for her too before the first word was spoken.

A new memory blossomed. Catherine was in bed with Jaleed. The thief also known as Tanuki. They just had sex and the scent of it was still vivid in the shared memory. It was there that Jaleed laid open flaws in Catherine's plan. They needed a way to smuggle him in without being seen. Get him into the heart of the Van Deckstett estate. An idea blossomed in Catherine's mind, but she didn't share it with her love yet.

It was a dark and gloomy room, Aiden now remembered. Full of trinkets and cursed items. Here a mage lived that was wanted by the authorities of the whole star sector. The mage was strong in power but even more unscrupulous. Catherine laid her request bare. She wanted to be sleeved. But not becoming of the regular kind. Catherine needed a way to hide the fact she was sleeved, so the ability to hide the seam was added. And while she trusted Jaleed with her heart, she still wanted control over her own fate. The ability to control what memories and skills she shared was added. Along with the unique and unheard ability to turn human while not being worn. To animate herself and blend in. A means to live her life as before even though she was sleeved. With a few other details hammered out, Catherine consented to voluntarily being sleeved.

The next memory brought Aiden to the night of the heist. For the first time, Jaleed would enter her sleeved lover. It was a surprisingly intimate and pleasurable act for Catherine. And while Jaleed entered as Catherine a big charity event at the Van Deckstett estate, Catherine revealed in the pleasure and helplessness of being controlled by someone else. It was the rush of a drug and she was just getting hooked on it.

It was three star systems further in the small cabin of a freighter they had rented. Aiden now remembered Catherine and Jaleed fighting. They had pulled off the heist. Enough riches to last their lifetimes. But that wasn't the problem. It was Catherine's symptoms of withdrawal. She wanted to be worn as a sleeve. Needed to. But Jaleed was appalled. Refusing to be her ever again. The fight was messy. And by their next stop, they would just split the loot of their heist. From then on, they would never see each other again. Heartbroken, Catherine would move on.

It was a night like any other for Alleen in the next memory. She hadn't been Catherine for a decade now. Left behind half a galaxy away. Still, she very much looked like her. Hadn't even aged a day. Probably a side effect of being a sleeve. Alleen might entertain the thought she was human, but deep inside, she knew what she was. She still longed to be worn again. But not by anyone. Trust was hard to come by these days. Even her new boyfriend, Bothley, wouldn't do. At least he and his crew provided her some measure of distraction. Getting fucked by them was a pleasurable, but ill-fitting fix for her addiction.

And then the door to the bar opened. A rough bunch entered. Not unlikely in these parts. But something struck Alleen as wrong. Those guys were trouble. But then a younger man entered and he crossed eyes with Alleen. Aiden recognized himself in Alleen's memory. And now, from Alleen's perspective, he knew the spark between them that he had felt ran both ways.

Alleen had been weary. Aiden knew that now. Had contemplated pulling out that wicked shotgun more than once. But a slight mistake by Guston threw all calculations aside. Alleen had spotted the sleeve gun hidden under Guston's mantle. The old addiction came back in full swing. A plan was formed. The sleeve gun wouldn't do anything to her, but those fellas wouldn't know that. She could just let go of her ability to animate herself and crumble to the floor. Then, finally, someone would wear her again. Hopefully that young guy.

"You were onto us from the start," Aiden said out loud. "And that's why you helped me."

"I need someone inside me," Alleen whispered back in his mind. "Feeling you know inside me only reaffirms my decision. And you need a place to hide. It is a win-win situation. Don't you think so?"

Aiden pushed off the door he was leaning against and walked into the small apartment. He saw it for the first time, but everywhere he looked a familiarity settled in. It was as if he had lived here for years. It was small but cozy. A home of his own, if Aiden wanted it. And he wanted. Even needed it. It wasn't a ramshackle hut on a planet that barely sustained life or the small cabin shared with many unwashed men in Guston's spaceship.

He bit back the protest that he was a man inside a woman's body. Well, female sleeve. But with each passing moment, he felt more as if this body belonged to him. Even the thought of taking over for Alleen appealed to him. Having his own bar. A dedicated boyfriend with an attached harem of willing deputies that would go to lengths to protect him. No. Not him. Her. If he agreed, then Aiden would disappear. Replaced by a new Alleen posing as the old.

It would be easy too. More and more of Alleen's memories and skills had seeped into him. Altering him. Or rather, her. As new instincts intermingled with old ones, Aiden identified now more as a woman than a man. She still had her old memories. And maybe because of those the Alleen that now stood in the apartment was more than the sum of boy and worn sleeve. It was the drive and wanting of Aiden combined with the experience and knowledge of Alleen.

"I think we are in agreement, Catherine," the new Alleen said out loud.

"Great!" The sentient sleeve exclaimed. "But please don't call me Catherine. That's an old name for an old life. Just call me Alleen."

"Can't do. Because I have to make one thing clear. This-" The new Alleen let her hands roam over her newfound body. "The bar. This apartment. Bothley as a boyfriend. Even the name Alleen. If you want me to take over, then that is all mine. Because whatever the sleeve Alleen owns I will own. You will be my property. And there can't be two Alleens. The best I can do for you is shorten your name to Cat. Now, I have decided. I am willing to become Alleen. Eager even. But you have to decide too. Open the seam on my back so I can get out, or swear your loyalty to me."

There was silence after her speech. Seconds passed by as Cat thought about the offer. Meanwhile, the new Alleen worried she might have pushed too far. Just an hour ago she never would have thought she might want to be a woman. Now she longed for it. What the original Alleen had, she wanted it all.

"Yes, mistress Alleen," Cat suddenly spoke up. Startling Alleen. "I will be Cat for you. Your loyal sleeve. Property."

A hungry grin appeared on Alleen's face. It was as she had expected. Cat needed to be worn as much as the new Alleen needed to wear the sleeve. Her longing and continued withdrawal had eroded Cat's will. Making her meek and docile. Subservient even. That was alright. Allen two point oh was ready to take the reins.

"Well, my dear Cat, we have about an hour before my boyfriend shows up," Alleen said aloud. "Time enough for a bubble bath after a long day. But first-" She walked to her new bedroom and opened one of the dressers. It was filled with lingerie of all kinds. "Our hero deserves a treat, right? For saving us. What do you think might show our gratefulness the most?"

The end.

Serina cursed. That was all she was doing lately. Cursing her luck, the station she was stranded on, and the bastard who put her there. She plopped down on her usual spot at the bar and cursed that she even had a usual spot.

She ordered the synthetic stuff someone liberal might name coffee and took a look at her pad. There's got to be work out there for her. She was a god damn pilot. Not one of those hot-headed fighter pilots. No. Big starships. That’s her size. Flying those for ten years should account for something, right? Not out here in the fringe of the universe. There weren’t a lot of freighters finding their way out of here. And even rarer was one that looked for a new pilot to hire.

Nevertheless, she started her pad and looked at the inserts. To her surprise there even was one. She quickly opened it and studied the details. Captain for a small freighter was needed. Pilot license? Check. That freighter wasn’t even above one hundred tons. A piece of cake for her. Knowledge of trading? Well, she had some basic courses about it, when she was at the Perusian navy academy. So that sort of count, right? Next was basic engineering. Serina grew up in a small mining colony in the outer belt of a star system. If you didn’t know how to fix something in an emergency you were pretty much dead.

The last point was males preferred. What bullshit was this? She pulled the details of the person who issued the insert. Flare Ardonisian. Seventy-five years old, but looked like in her early twenties on her profile picture. Gender female. Species Incubus.

Serina rolled her eyes. There were no female Incubus. The whole race was genetically engineered and was male only. Just like all Succubus were female. And that was what Flare was. A Succubus. Some hick on the station must have messed up. Not that surprising on a rustbucket of a station in the outer rim. So Flare was a Succubus. Of course, that explained the male preferred part of the insert. Half of their bodily needs came from orgasmic energy released when they had sex with a male.

Serina wanted to dismiss the insert, but couldn’t afford to do it. She was running low on funds and this was the first insert in a month. Not counting the inserts like pest control and hull cleaning duties. Stuff she currently did to stay afloat. Serina needed the job to finally get off this poor excuse of a starbase. It looked like Flare had to live without a boy-toy on her travels. The hard part was to get her to acknowledge that.

*****

Serina kicked the rat aside. One might think a space station would be free of such pests. Not by a long shot. She made her way into the D-arm of the station. Not a good sign. It was the most run-down part of it. Here the docking fee was the lowest. That told her a lot about the owner of the freighter. Her would-be boss.

Making her way past junk and pests she finally saw port number twelve. She buzzed the visitor's alarm and then waited. A long time. Now and then she had to kick away rats. No, her boots weren’t a good place to mate. When the airlock door finally opened Serina had to stifle a laugh.

Succubus. Desire and allure personified. If that was the truth then clearly Flare hadn’t gotten the memo. She looked like she came just out of bed. And not in a good or sexy way.

“Yes?” came the sleepy question of the shipowner.

“I am here for the job offer,” replied Serina with a cheery smile.

“But you are a woman,” came the somewhat slow comeback from Flare.

“The ad said male preferred. Not that women can’t apply. May I come in?”

“S-sure.”

Serina used her best poker face to not appear grinning like a cat that had caught a mouse. So far Flare appeared to be a pushover. Which suited Serina just fine.

Inside the freighter looked okay. Not the clean standard she was used to by the Perusian Navy. But far from negligent too. Given that Flare looked out of energy it explained the surroundings. Just the bare minimum was done to conserve energy. Her last trust with a male must have been a while ago.

Both sat down in a small kitchen area. Serina decided to remain in the offense. She took out her pad and pushed it over.
“Those are my credentials,” Serina said confidently.

Flare took her time reading it. Logically she knew that Flare was only so slow because of an energy deficient. Still, she had to keep herself from drumming her fingers on the table.

“You worked for ten years in the Perusian navy?” was the first question.

“Yes. At first not voluntary. I was conscripted when I was sixteen. By the time my mandatory time was up I had secured a good position as a freighter pilot. So I extended my contract. Till recently that was okay. Then the war ended the bad way. I thought the rim is a better place than a Draconian prison cell or labor camp.”

Of course, not all of it was true. She was stuck here because her former captain saw a future as a pirate. Everyone that disagreed landed in the airlock. Thankfully one connected to the rustbucket of a station she currently was hard pressed to call home.

“You trained as a technician on your home station and reached the third rank before your conscription?” was Flare next question.

Serina could hear the doubt. After all, she made it up. Sure she did repairs and stuff. Everyone did. There wasn’t even a proper technician staff on the station. Luckily researching it, if she said was true, would prove futile. Her once home now deep in occupied space.

“Ah yes. My birthplace is a little behind on standards and norms. My technical know-how was enough to get me conscripted in the first place.”

Flare nodded and Serina knew the job was as good as in her pocket.

“The credentials look sufficient, however, I wonder. Did you check my profile? Are you sure you are comfortable working with someone of my species?” Flare asked in doubt.

“Of course, I have checked. I do not hold any reservations,” Serina assured her.

A moment later they shook on it. Serina had a new job. As suspected she was to take over all jobs aboard the ship. In turn, she received a generous salary.

*****

Serina stood up and stretched herself. Finally, she could fly again. This time pretty much on her own terms. The course was locked in and Serina had some time. Time best spent to get some coffee.

So far her job had been easy. Flare had some regular customers, who didn’t mind waiting on their goods a little longer than usual. Usually, Flare would slowly make her round through a dozen star systems. With plenty of breaks mid-flight as her energy depraved body couldn’t stay concentrated for long. Now that Serina was aboard additional jobs might be on the horizon. She herself had so far to oversee the loading of goods and the departure from the station. Flare was usually in her cabin or did her best impression of a living vegetable in the small common area.

Today was no different. Flare had fallen asleep on the kitchen table. Her hair nicely framed her serene face. It wasn't the classical beauty one might expect from a Succubus. Her features were little too pronounced and hard. It also might have been looking better if not a few strands of her hair would lay on a nearby plate with some specks of food left on it. Besides her hand was a pad. Maybe some romance novel. Did Succubus’s read romance novels? Serina wasn’t sure.

While the food processor prepared a fresh squeeze bag of coffee, Serina put away the dirty plate and secured the pad. They had artificial gravity, but emergency evasion maneuvers weren’t that uncommon. A loose object could be deadly and a dead employer couldn’t pay her. So Serina reached around Flare waist and pulled the belt out. A moment later she was secured.

Close as she was Serina had a good close-up view of Flare face. Kind of cute and very serene. A little more angular than she had expected of Succubus. Nonetheless, she was a sleeping beauty waiting to be awoken by the kiss of a prince. Or more likely a hard fucking, her naughty mind added. For a moment Serina was lost in thought. Wondering how Flare's lips would taste.

The beep from the food processor broke her trance. Flustered she stepped back and grabbed the squeeze bag of coffee. What was wrong with her? Shaking her head Serina headed back to the cockpit.

*****

Serina cursed silently and looked yet again over her shoulder. No Flare in sight. Not that Serina expected her to show up. She was sleeping soundly at the kitchen table. After two weeks Serina knew that this spot seemed to be Flare's favorite spot. Still, Serina couldn’t shake her paranoia.

Again she looked at the small fabricator in the maintenance bay. Of course, she was allowed to use it. Just not for this purpose. Serina had carefully hacked the fabricator that its current project wasn’t written in its protocol. After all “Vibrator model fast rabbit mk4” was not a replacement part of the ship. Nonetheless, Serina figured she had a right to get this small, but essential, tool. After all, it was Flare fault. Her and her stupid pheromones. After two weeks they really had wrecked Serina's libido out of balance.

Serina had never before worked with a Succubus. Her logic had told her it would be fine. Their pheromones were aimed at men. She should be immune. Her recent spike in masturbation proved her wrong. Somehow it affected her. Made her horny all the time. Usually, her hands did just fine to relieve the tension. Not today. Today she needed something to fill her up. To plug the hole of need between her legs.

Finally, the fabricator was done. Serina quickly snatched her ill-gotten goods and stormed to her cabin. There were some hours till the next course correction had to be done. Time she could fill to finally tame that rampant arousal.

*****

Serina got up and stretched her limbs. She just had three hours behind her of navigating the freighter out of the busy Rugat system. Someone had messed up the flight routes and Serina nearly had a collision. Well, "collision" was a relative term as both ships passed each other with several hundred kilometers distance.

Time to get some coffee. She had earned it. Maybe even a quick break with Mister Bunny, her trusty vibrator. That she might have earned too.

Leaving the small bridge she saw Flare passed out in the kitchen area. Now she knew Mister Bunny would see action. Silently cursing she stepped closer. Once again switching on the coffee brewer.

Soon the smell of coffee filled the air. It had to battle for dominance against Flare's perfume. At least Serina thought it was Flare's perfume. Maybe it was her normal body odor. For all Serina knew it could be that every Succubus smelled like this. Very flowery. Yet there was an undertone of something musky. It reminded Serina of men who had just worked out.

It intrigued Serina to no end, but she knew better than to ask. Her employer might not like her snooping. Flare struck her as a very private person. She snorted. Private being relative as Serina found her often passed out in the communal area.

Serina tore her eyes away from her employer long enough to spot something curious. Flare's pad was unlocked. It meant Flare hadn't been sleeping for long and the pad hadn't locked itself yet. She really shouldn't but Serina couldn't help to sneak a peek.

Clothes. The catalog of a big local manufacturer. Not really surprising. The articles Flare had marked were. If Serina would have to sum them up in one word she would have chosen "cute". Now that she thought about it, Flare didn't dress like she had imagined Succubus would dress. Not sexy. More on the casual side. Serina rather liked Flare's fashion sense. Well, everything but the puffed up shoulder pads she liked to wear. Though now that she saw Flare's marked items she wondered how Flare would look in them.

Well, she wouldn't find out unless Flare would order them and Serina could hardly encourage her. Not without revealing her snooping. Putting down the pad she pushed it to the original position. That brought Serina close to Flare and once again she was stuck paralyzed by her beauty.

Again the impulse to kiss her coursed through Serina's veins. Like gravity, she was pulled closer. Serina's lips touched Flare's. Tasted the silky smoothness.

Flare stirred and Serina quickly stepped back. Possibly caught in the act.

"Hmm. What?" Flare sleepily asked.

Serina revised her previous assumption. Tousled bed hair could look sexy. Especially on Flare. She made it work with ease. Provided her hair hadn't lain in food for hours.

Blushing Serina looked away. Had Flare noticed the kiss? She wasn't sure. Hastily she cobbled a story together.
"Coffee. Break. I mean I wanted to do a small break. I saw you sleeping and did check on you. You often forget to secure yourself."

Flare looked down and saw her belt was indeed buckled. "I thought I had."

"Normally," Serina quickly added. "I just made sure it was properly. And. Oh yeah, you didn't secure your pad." Serina turned around. Mostly to hide her blushing. "Anyway, I am taking my break now."

She had barely made a few steps when Flare's voice stopped her. "Serina?"

"Yes," she asked while cringing.

"You forgot your coffee," Flare remarked.

Serina silently cursed herself. "Ah. Yes. I am a little scatterbrained today," she explained with a nervous laugh. Hurrying to the coffee brewer she filled her squeeze bag.

Then she nearly ran to her cabin. Closing the door she leaned against it and let the squeeze bag fall to the floor. Coffee was the furthest from her mind right now.

Her eyes darted around the room till she saw Mister Bunny, her vibrator. Peeling off her uniform she desperately grasped for the sex toy. Plunging it into her as soon as she hit her bunk. As she steadily neared towards her climax pictures dominated her mind. Flare in cute dresses. It was all that Serina needed to reach a shattering orgasm.

Panting she caught her breath. Not enough. She needed more. More Flare. To know that the target of her desire was just on the other side of the door fueled Serina's arousal. Soon she was on her way to her second orgasm and she knew it wouldn't be the last before she could end her break from work.

*****

It was good to stretch her legs a little. While she could do that on the ship there wasn't much space to really walk around. Now Serina was walking around in a bazaar on Ceti Beta Six and enjoyed the fresh air. It had been years since she had last set foot on a planet.

Best of all on her little excursion was that the air was fresh. No pheromones of Flare around. For once she could live a moment without imagining having sex with Flare. To tear her clothes off and have her way with her. Blushing Serina shook her head. So much for not thinking about having sex with Flare. There must be still some pheromones on her clothes, she told herself. Because if she daydreamed about Flare without them, then ... Pheromones for sure. How they managed to cling to her after two decontamination was beyond Serina. But it had to be them.

To distract herself Serina threw herself with new vigor into exploring the market. Nothing caught her eye that she might need. Most vendors displaying perishable goods or clothes unsuited for living in a spaceship. Which was too bad as some looked intriguing. She bet those silken scarfs would look good on Flare. Shaking her head she moved on just to see several skirts. Those looked good. Serina could envision Flare wearing one of these. Making little twirls to send the skirt flying. And if the gravity generator of the ship would fall out maybe the skirt would lift up and ...

Blushing Serina hurried on. Finding a market stall that sold jewelry just to envision Flare again while wearing them. "This was not fair," Serina thought while making her way through the bazaar. It was her hard earned cash and thanks to those stupid pheromones all Serina could think about was spending it on Flare. Fuming she fought her way out of the market, but despite her best efforts, when she exited she had a gift for Flare under her arm.

On the long ride up the space elevator, Serina had time to cool down. Maybe she had overreacted a little. After all, it wasn't Flares fault that she emitted those pheromones. No-one can decide as what they are born. But clearly, those pheromones were getting to Serina. Maybe there were some air filters or similar that could provide some relief. She hoped there were as she had noticed that they slowly effected her more and more.

Arriving at the freighter she noticed the familiar smell of Flare's pheromones and perfume. Despite everything, she had missed it, as it somehow smelled like home. She did not have to look long for Flare, as she was passed out at her usual spot. The kitchen table in the common area.

Or so she thought because as she turned around to head to her cabin, Flare's voice surprised her. "Welcome back. How was your trip?"

Looking back Serina saw Flare in her usual glory. With tangled messy hair, sleepy looking up from the spot behind the kitchen table.

"Was okay," Serina mumbled. Her trembling fingers tightened on the small box she was carrying. "I got a gift for you."

"A gift?"

"I saw something that might look good on you," Serina lame.

Flare started to unpack the gift. Too slowly as Serina's nerves felt like under a current. Eager to find out how Flare would judge her gift.

"An Alice band?" Flare asked as she removed the ornate piece of metal.

"Well. I thought it might keep your hair out of your food," Serina lamely explained.

"How do I look?" Flare asked after donning the Alice band.

"Cute," Serina managed to say and then Flare smiled at her. Further words eluded Serina. No matter how hard she grasped at them.

"I've got to see," Flare announced and stood up. Midway to her cabin she turned around and skipped over to Serina. "Thank you," she said before giving Serina a small kiss on the cheek.

A moment later Serina was alone. Her seemingly petrification lasted a few more seconds before she burst into her own cabin. Eager to combat some recently build up stress.

*****

Bodies closely entwined. Hot lips pressed at each other. Moaning of two women in heat. Flare's face speaking of passion.

Serina woke up with a start and cursed like the sailor she was. It had happened again. Another wet dream involving Flare. She still was wet and needy. Fishing for Mister Bunny, she finished it. Satisfied she let the vibrator roll away. It had only helped slightly. She knew it wouldn’t be long before she was horny again.

Of all the things she cursed her own stubbornness was at the top of the list. She should have quit her job at the last port. But no she had to stay. The pay was too good. At least that was what she told herself. It was her stubbornness. Nothing more, right? Certainly not Flare.

She had never been into women. Not much into men either. She simply didn’t tick that way. But two month of Flare pheromones had screwed her sense of what was hot or not. Serina’s world had been turned upside down. She needed a shower. A nice cold shower. That would do her good.

She grabbed a towel and headed out of her cabin. Only to stop before the door to the only shower the ship had. Serina heard the stream of water. Just her luck. Flare's timing was perfect to throw yet another monkey wrench between Serina’s legs.

She knew she should turn away. Instead, her mind drifted off. It would be easy. So easy. She could slip in. Surprise Flare. Plant some kisses and grab at her with need. All too so easy. Nothing stopping her from open the door. Let her towel slip to the floor. Step into the torrent of water. See Flare surprised face.

Serina blinked. This was no daydream. She stood beside Flare. Her breathing heavy with arousal. She couldn’t hold back anymore. Serina’s lips found those of Flare and she pushed and pulled with desperate need. Only a heartbeat later Flare responded in kind. A needy hand caressed Serina’s breast. She would have minded. A few months back. Not now. Reservations be damned. Her hands found the small magnificent orbs on Flare. Played with them. Teased them.

Something hard hit Serina between her legs. Not painful but noticeable as it poked her belly. She knew the feeling. Looking down she saw a hard stiff dick. It belonged to Flare. Serina didn’t care. Her need and instinct took over. She grabbed the rod and guided it into her. She moaned like a savage as the enormous girth filled her completely. Grunting in ecstasy as it pushed in and out of her. It didn’t take long before Serina exploded in an never before reached orgasm.

If Flare had noticed she didn’t let it known. Unrelenting she pushed in and out. Fueled the flames of Serina’s arousal yet again. She could feel another orgasm building and she knew it wouldn’t be the last. Not for some hours.

*****

Serina woke on silken bed sheets. Definitely not hers, she decided. When she opened her eyes Serina saw Flare besides her. Studying her with tension and curiosity.

“Here is another thing I would never have thought possible. You studying me sleeping. Isn’t that my role,” Serina jibed with a lazy, but honest smile.

“Maybe,” Flare admitted and turned away flustered.

Serina’s eyes followed her lover's contours. The sensual lines she had explored in the many hours before.

“I think I love you,” slipped Serina’s mouth. But once said she knew it was true.

“Do you?” Flare asked. She turned back to Serina and she saw tears streaming down Flare’s face. “Do you really? I heard hundreds of women utter those words. It was never real. All they wanted was this.” She pointed angrily at the penis between her legs.

“You mean your pheromones? That you are a Succubus? I admit I have never heard of a male Succubus before,” Serina quietly admitted.

Flare face turned to shock and confusion. “I am not a Succubus. I thought you have read my profile. Serina, I am an Incubus!”

Serina crooked an eyebrow. “Oh? In that case, I never knew that there are female Incubus. I read the profile. I thought it was a mistake of some overworked office drone.”

Flare laughed. Not for long as it slowly turned to crying. Tears streamed down her face and Serina wiped them away.
“What is wrong? Tell me,” she urged Flare.

“There are no female Incubus. I am transgendered Serina. Me. Transgendered. What a cosmic joke. My species doesn’t even have a second gender. Still here I am. Wanting to be a woman all my life.”
Flare stopped as her sobbing became too strong. It broke Serina’s heart to see her like this. Gently she hugged her and gave Flare her support, till the last tear was shed.

"I still love you," Serina whispered in her lover’s ear.

"But the ..."

"No. Not because of your pheromones. I admit they affect me. And for a long time, I couldn't admit how I felt about you. Blamed it on them. The Pheromones. But listen to me. Even when I am away - on a planet’s surface or in a spacesuit repairing stuff on the hull - I still think of you. More so. You are all that I can think about."

Gently Serina lifted up the chin of Flare so she could look her into the eyes. "Where I grew up everything was limited. What you had others wanted. I learned early to shut off my heart. To let no one in. You taught me to love again. And believe me, I had been a stubborn student."

Flare nodded and let her chin rest on Serina's shoulder. A slight twinge of disappointment shot through Serina. She had hoped for Flare to return the sentiment. To hear "I love you too". But maybe she wasn't ready yet. Her mistrust of love might even be deeper than Serina's.

After they both calmed down Serina had to ask.
“Ever thought about… You know. Going all the way. Nowadays there are some good surgeons out there."

“I tried,” came the tired reply of Flare. “Two times. The first time I was so happy. Finally a complete woman. That’s what I had thought. How stupid I have been. A penis is a vital organ to an Incubus. It grew back Serina. Not a month later and all the pain had been for nothing. Still, I didn’t give up. Tried again. Failed again. It is hopeless.”

Again Serina reached for Flare's chin and forced her to look at Serina.
“It is not. This universe is filled with technic, science, magic, and hundreds of forms of strange energy. Somewhere there is a way. We just have to find it.”

“We?” came the fragile question from Flare.

“Yes. We,” Serina told her with all her confidence. “You might be right. Maybe I feel this way only because of your pheromones. Though I don't believe it. However, there is only one way to find out for sure. Let’s find a way to make you the woman I see before me for real. Body and soul. Then we will know, right?”

“Right.”

They shared a passionate kiss. Loaded with all the emotions they harbored. To Flare it might be an uncertainty if Serina loved her. Not so for Serina. Her whole life she had only cared about herself. She was familiar with arousal and sexual need. But never before she had cared for a person like she had now for Flare. And when they had found a way to make Flare a complete woman. Then she would see that Serina’s love was real. She was sure of it. This was not the end for both of them. This was just the beginning.

Andy cursed as he rummaged through the old storage unit. It was full of dust, droppings of animals, and who knows what else. "Couldn't your old man auction this lot or something?" he asked his best friend.

"This ain't storage wars," Kyle shouted back from behind some boxes. "We are in bumfuck nowhere. Good luck finding bidders out here."

Of course, Andy knew he was right. Sighing he did get back to work and started sifting through the boxes. There was his Sunday going down the drain, but he couldn't deny Kyle the help. Too often that slacker had helped him out of a bad situation.

Opening another box he fished out a glass vase with a narrow neck. Behind the grime was colored glass. Once cleaned up it might even be pretty. "Hey Kyle, maybe this is worth something."

Kyle looked up. "What you got there? It looks a bit like a genie's bottle. Come on. Give it a rub."

Andy rolled his eyes, but he knew how Kyle could get. He would needle him until he relented. Theatrical he rubbed on the grime. "No genie. Shocking," he commented dryly. "Still might be worth something."

By now Kyle had managed to find his way over. "Yeah," he commented as he took the vase. "To me. I know a guy who knows a guy who can make a pretty sweet bong out of this thing."

Again Andy rolled his eyes. Smoking pot and getting high was one of the hobbies he didn't share with Kyle. There weren't really that many similarities. It was just that Andy owed him a lot for keeping him out of trouble. In turn, he got roped into things when Kyle wanted to get out of things faster. Like clearing out a lot in the storage depot that Kyle's father owned.

"You can light up later," Andy said and turned back to the boxes. "I wanna be done soon with this stuff." Grunting he lifted a box full of moth-eaten clothes and heaved it towards the garbage container.

Turning around he still saw Kyle rubbing at the dirt-covered lamp. Sighing he did get back to work.

*****

It was late. Andy was out on the pagoda of his parent's house. They were away for the weekend and surely they wouldn't mind one beer missing. There, sitting on an old worn-out chair, he took a first sip of the ice-cold goodness.

It was then that he suddenly felt a strange sensation run through his body. His world lurched to the side and he had trouble staying upright. Something was seriously wrong. The phone! He had to call his parents. Trying to stand up immediately made him fall to the floor. The world swayed before his eyes as if he was on a shrimp cutter out on the ocean in a hurricane. When it all became too much he passed out.

When Andy opened his eyes again the last rays of sunshine disappeared behind the horizon. He had made it barely into the living room before collapsing. The world had stopped swaying, but his body still felt strange. Looking down he screamed. High pitched and unlike he ever did before. Below t-shirt and jeans, his body was reshaped into one of a woman. Massive tits and wide hips.

Andy got up. Shocked he made a few stumbling steps till he saw his own reflection in a mirror. "I look like a pornstar," he said in a voice that was so breathy and oozing sex, that it complimented his new body perfectly.

Unwilling to accept what his eyes saw he clawed at his clothes to shrug out of them. His massive tits sprang free as he pulled the shirt over his head. The pants and boxers proved harder to strip. His new generous hips and tights stretched them so far that friction alone wielded them onto his body.

What felt like hours later he managed to shrug free and look again at the mirror. To say he was voluptuous was an understatement. Together with this pink hair, he was reminded of a poster of a pornstar hanging in Kyles's room.

Another wave of dizziness washed through him. Kyle. He had now the perfect body to seduce him. Andy shook his head to get rid of that strange thought. But it was stuck there. Unbidden and growing. This body was made to have sex with Kyle. To fuck him raw. Andy needed it. His soul yearned for Kyle's dick to penetrate that needy hole between his legs.

Stumbling he made his way to the front door. He needed to find Kyle. Yearned to be fucked by him. His new pussy already dripping wet.

Suddenly cool waves crashed against his body. Confused, he noticed a change in the scenery through the haze of arousal. Some kind of island. No one was around. More eluded him as his mind returned to Kyle. Damn, he wanted to fuck him. Where this sudden urge came from, Andy couldn't explain. It was an equally strange thing as his new body. But both couldn't be denied.

Arching for sex he couldn't have, Andy's fingers plunged into the burning grotto of need. Furiously rubbing as if his life depended on it. Only for the next impossible thing to happen. A pink mist started to quell from his pussy. It made Andy scamper back in confusion, but the tail of smoke followed and more and more pushed out of him.

Slowly it took the shape of a woman. Then it solidified into a redhaired beauty.
"Greetings, oh mistress. I am Mave. Your genie."

"Genie?" Andy asked confused.

"There is no time," the genie urged. "You are Andy, right. Listen. Your friend Kyle-"

"Kyle!" With vehemence, the need between his legs returned. It made Andy whimper with need. "I need him to fuck me! How I wish I were where he is."

"Fuck!" Mave cursed out loud. "You stupid bimbo doomed us both. Wish granted."

Once again Andy's surroundings changed in the blink of an eye. He recognized the new ones. And its owner, Kyle. Lounging on his bed, but he jumped up as he saw Andy.

"It worked!" Kyle shouted. "It really worked!"

"Kyle," Andy moaned more than said it. "I need you to fuck me."

"Yes." He had a nasty smile on his face that Andy had never seen on Kyle before. "Yes, you do."

Kyle pushed him onto the bed and a moment later into him. Suddenly Andy felt complete. His strange and overwhelming urge was fulfilled. It was heaven. Faster than he thought a climax wracked through him.

As his breathing calmed down he felt a strange feeling down there. A quick look revealed a pink mist coming out of the used hole. It manifested into the same woman from that beach.

"Greetings, oh master. I am Mave. Your genie."

Mave looked pissed. Giving both, Kyle and Andy, the dirty eye.

"What is happening?" Andy really wanted to know. Suddenly he was a woman. One attracted to Kyle. The sudden changes in scenery made him dizzy and who the hell was that Mave gal? But he received no answer from neither of them.

"Time for round two," Kyle proclaimed. It immediately made Andy think of sex again. He could go for another rump with Kyle. Strangely already aroused again. But Kyle pushed Andy's butt away and then wrought his hands in anticipation. "Now for my next three wishes…"

Andy's mind was still catching up. Wishes? Had that vase been real? Was Mave a genie?

"I wish that every time Andie teleports, she ends up near the closest genie not bound to her and that she has the urge to find that genie and call them forth."

By now Mave's eyes had riveted themselves on Kyle and if looks could kill, Kyle would be a little pile of ash. But he was still standing and Mave pushed a "wishes granted" through her teeth.

"Now this is getting good. I wish that Andie's first wish of a genie she meets the first time will be that their home vessel becomes one of Andy's rub-able body parts."

"I am going to kill you," Mave promised. "I don't know how, but I will."

Kyle gave Mave a dirty grin. "That's not what I want to hear."

"Wish granted," Mave pressed out.

"That's what I am talking about!" Kyle shouted.

It was the last thing that Andy heard as she suddenly found herself in the desert. Utterly lost as it was nighttime and pitch black. In the pale moonlight, she could see some silhouettes of buildings. Despite her confusion, she slowly started to walk there. As if a strange pull forced her feet.

Her thoughts returned to Mave and wondered if she was a real genie. Had to be. But how was she able to summon her without rubbing a lamp? Kyle must have done something.

Kyle!

At once, Andy's arousal flared up again. Her thoughts were filled with naughty daydreams. She should be angry at him. Clearly, he had done this to her. Made her a girl somehow. And not just any woman, but a spitting image of his favorite porn-starlet.

"Greetings, oh mistress. I am Mave. Your genie."

Those words shook Andy out of her daydream. Looking down she saw the last pink wisps of smoke waving through her fingers. Without really noticing she had started to rub herself in her new most intimate body-part.

"What the hell is going on?" Andy demanded to know.

"I would explain if you just could concentrate for a moment," Mave growled. Clearly still angry at Andy.

"But thinking is hard," Andy pouted. Absently starting to rub her pussy again.

"Listen-"

"I wish it wasn't-" Andy whimpered.

"Yes! Finally!" Mave exclaimed. She even kissed Andy deftly on the lips. "Wish fucking granted!"

At once the haze of arousal in Andy's mind cleared. Not truly going away, but drifted into the background. Nearly every second thought was about Kyle's dick, but the urges weren't as bad anymore.

"So, what is going on?" Andy asked after taking a deep breath to clear her head.

"Kyle, he screwed us over," Mave started.

Unbidden and strong came the memories to Andy of how Kyle had fucked him. It rekindled the flames in her groin again.

"Please," Andy pressed out. More a moan than a word. A moment later she continued. "Mind your words. It is still hard to keep those thoughts away."

"I'll try," Mave promised. "First things first. I am a genie and Kyle summoned me."

"The glass bottle, right?" Andy started to put one and one together. "But I rubbed the bottle too."

"You rubbed the grime," Mave corrected. "Not the bottle itself. Kyle did."

"Oh, Kyle can rub me too," Andy purred.

"Focus."

"Sorry."

"He got three wishes," Mave continued. "The first one was to transform you into the split image of a woman pictured on his wall."

Andy nodded. "I kind of guessed that."

"The second wish was for you to be obsessed with fucking him and more specifically being poked by his dick."

Andy let out an involuntary moan. Now he knew her obsession with Kyle's dick was artificial, yet it still felt real. It also threatened to consume his thoughts again.

Mave grabbed Andy by the shoulders and shook him. "Look at me. Breathe in and breathe out. Repeat."

Slowly, Andy calmed down again. But in the back of her mind, she knew she couldn't stave off the craving forever. Rather sooner than later she would give in.

"The last wish?" Andy pressed on.

"To transport me from my previous vessel - my glass bottle - to my new one: your pussy."

Andy stumbled and nearly fell. For a moment her eyes grew wide. "That is possible?"

"Oh, believe me, I was surprised too," Mave exclaimed. "I mean transferring to a new vessel is an old hat. Wishers do that sometimes in hopes to have help finding the vessel again. Which never works out. Until Kyle. That cretin clearly is off his meds."

"B-but why?" Andy demanded to know.

"Think about it," Mave suggested. "How do all his wishes play together."

Andy's eyes grew wide. "That fucker found a way to unlimited wishes. And he screwed me over to get it."

"Screwed us both," Mave corrected. "Did you know that the design of my home is based on my vessel? I used to have a pretty and colorful home based on glass. Now everything is decorated based on your pussy. Vagina pillows. Cooch shaped doorways. Everything is a freaking parody of a vagina."

"I have a genie living in my pussy," Andy stated in disbelief to herself. "Damn, I have a pussy."

Andy was upset. How could Kyle do this to her? There was no bright side. Well, maybe except that he could fuck Kyle with a vagina. Andy shook his head again. Cursing Kyle under his breath. No matter how hard he tried, Andy's thoughts always returned to Kyle's dick.

"We have to find a way out of this cycle," Andy pressed out through clenched teeth. "We can't let him win."

"You have to find a way," Mave admitted. "The law of the genies prevents me to suggest you wishes or influencing you on what to wish for."

"Great," Andy groaned. But soon his eyes grew wide. "I have a perfect wish. Oh, that fucker will be sorry. Mave, I wish that Kyle - in regards to genies - is unable to summon them, name a wish, or receive a wish."

A chuckle broke out of Mave. One that quickly turned to a burst of roaring laughter. Andy nearly missed when she said, "Wish granted".

With Kyle's plans crossed, Andy could finally think of herself and her needs. "I wish I was in Kyle's bedroom."

Mave stopped laughing and gave a sigh. "I guess it is a wonder you lasted this long. Wish granted."

A second later, Andy stood in Kyle's room. Just as Andy tried to demand sex she was back in the desert. Alone. Mave was no-where in sight. After a moment, she knew what to do. Her fingers found her delicate folds and started rubbing. An instant later, familiar pink smoke quelled forth.

"What happened?" Andy whined as soon as Mave took form again. "I need him in me. Bad!"

"It was your third wish," Mave explained. "After the third wish of a genie, the corresponding vessel is whisked away to a random place. Which means now that you are my vessel you get to travel for free."

"But, I want to fuck Kyle," Andy pleaded.

"I need to hear a wish," Mave reminded her.

"I wish I was in Kyle's bedroom," Andy quickly pressed out. But couldn't help herself from adding, "Again."

"Wish granted."

A split second later, Andy felt the rough carpet of Kyle's room under her feet again. The target of her desire sprawled out in his bed.

"Took you long enough," Kyle said with a smirk. "And? Did you get a new genie?"

Andy tried to suppress her annoyance. Kyle really was only after wishes. Not caring who else he fucked over. But at the moment, Andy didn't care. Her eyes riveted to Kyle's crotch.

"Why don't you fuck me and find out?" Andy suggested.

Her former best friend didn't have to be asked twice. Starting with rough foreplay that really was only an excuse to rub every part of her that he could think of. Eventually giving up, Kyle did go for the only spot he knew housed a genie.

Andy moaned as Kyle pushed into her. Finally, her thirst for his dick was quenched a little. But she needed more. Soon, Kyle increased his pace. Andy didn't even have to look at him to know that he must be confused.

"Why isn't it working?" Kyle asked behind Andy while taking her doggy style.

"It is," Andy lied. "Just rub harder."

Again, Kyle increased his pace. Eliciting more moans from Andy. But nothing else happened besides him coming in her. No genie appeared.

"I don't understand," Kyle said while slipping out of Andy.

"Here, let me try," Andy purred. Her hands sneaking down to her cleft. A few rubs were all it took and pink mist started to escape her folds.

"Greetings, oh mistress. I am Mave. Your genie."

"Why is it working for you and not for me?" Kyle shouted. "It should have been me."

Andy started to giggle. She just couldn't help herself. Every time she calmed down and tried to explain a new bout of giggles broke free. Kyle's confused face was just too priceless. Eventually, Andy turned to Mave.

"I wish you explained it to him," Andy told her genie. "And take your time."

"Oh, wish granted mistress," Mave purred. "With pleasure even."

The pissed-off genie walked towards Kyle who scampered backward. Not far as his back touched a wall soon enough.

"You see, you little imbecile, my mistress wasn't very happy to be part of your little endless wish exploit," Mave explained with a sneer. "In fact, she hated it. Just like me. You screwed us both over for selfish gain. Not that selfish people are anything new in my line of work. But you took the crown of assholery and wore it with pride."

By now Mave was inches away from his face.

"Your mistake was that you thought Andy couldn't control herself enough to make a decent wish. But you were wrong. Do you know what she wished for? No? You see she didn't just make sure that you can't summon a genie - not just me but any of my brethren - but also included that you aren't eligible for a genie's wish. Even a gifted one."

"What are you gonna do to me?" Kyle whimpered.

"Oh mistress, what are we gonna do to him?" Mave asked Andy while turning around to her.

"Nothing, for now," Andy admitted. She turned to Kyle. "Shut up and be quiet, while I try to undo the mess you made."

Mave scrunched her lovely face. "About that, Mistress. You can't-"

"What?"

"Previous wishes to genies can't be undone," Mave explained. "At most, they can be altered. But only slightly and not without keeping the original wishes wording."

"So, I am stuck as a woman until I die of old age?" Andy's eyes wandered to Kyle and tried to project pure rage. "Can't even switch to a body that is not this ridiculous in proportions."

"I am afraid, that won't be happening," Mave interrupted. "You are my vessel now."

Andy braced herself for more bad news. "What does that mean?"

"Well-" Mave looked away. Unable to hold eye contact. "You see a genie's vessel is indestructible. Nothing can harm it. Well, you. Not even the ravages of time."

"I am immortal?" Andy exclaimed.

"See?" Kyle threw in. "It's not all bad."

"You dimwitted asshole," Andy shouted at him. "It means that I'll still be around when mankind dies out. When this solar system goes supernova. Until the end of the universe. Explain to me how that is a good thing!"

"Well, there is good news." Mave broke in. "Technically genies age. Might take a few millennia for them, but they will die of old age. Actually, probably more like a million years. So, when all the genies within you die, then you'll be free of immortality again."

"Great!" Andy threw her hands up. "That is so much better." But then, her mind caught up. "All the genies? But I thought you are the only one."

"For now," Mave agreed. "But this trash wished that you not only teleport to the nearest genie who isn't housed by your body, he also wished that you have the urge to wish from them that they shift their home towards your body."

As Mave explained, Andy remembered back to both times she had been in the dark desert. Despite her mind focused on Kyle's dick and fucking it, she had steadily stumbled into a specific direction.

"Great," Andy said again. "Just great. Soon or later I'll play the equivalent of a clown car for a dozen genies."

"More like ten thousand," Mave corrected her.

"Not helping," Andy shot back. "Somehow I have to punish this asshole but every time I look at his direction I want to impale myself on his thick and juicy dick. Ride it until-"

"It's not that thick now, to be honest," Mave said while looking at Kyle.

Andy looked too and felt at once the heat between her loins spike up again. She wanted nothing more than to be screwed by Kyle again. Thankfully, for now, he was flaccid, which kept her compulsions at bay. Shutting her eyes, Andy tried to concentrate. She somehow needed to punish Kyle. But not in a way that removed the option to have him fuck her silly.

A new horrifying thought crept into Andy's mind. She was immortal. Kyle was not. In just a few decades he would die. Leaving her to long for a dick that has rotted away. That, she couldn't have. She needed to make Kyle immortal too. Just so she could ride his dick again. She also needed to make sure that she could fuck him any time she wanted. After all, if he ran away, she was equally fucked. Well, not fucked. Fucked but in the wrong way.

Andy pondered her problem for a minute until she had a brilliant thought. Her train of thought had been interrupted as it headed for the gutter again. If only Kyle wasn't flaccid all the time. Then she could impale herself on him every time she needed it. It was the last piece she needed to solve her puzzle.

"Oh, Mave, get ready to hand out some punishment," Andy said with a grin on her lips.

"Please. I am sorry. Have mercy."

Kyle had finally found his voice again. Not that Andy cared.

"I wish- " Andy's grin turned devilish. "That my former best friend Kyle gets transformed into an indestructible sentient lifelike dildo based on his own dick with the following properties: never gets flaccid and is always hard or semi-hard; can still produce sperm and come, but can't impregnate anyone anymore; can change form into any other dildo based on the current user's thoughts, but returns to his base form after use; before and after each use is magically cleaned."

After a moment of contemplation, Andy nodded. "That's it."

Kyle's pleading grew in intensity, but was suddenly cut off as Mave said loud and clearly, "Wish granted."

Where Kyle was a moment before, now only a very lifelike dildo rested on the bed. Not for long, as Andy jumped on the bed and pushed it into herself. Now that was the stuff. It didn't take Andy long to reach an orgasm. Her second wasn't far behind. Or the other ones that followed. By the time Andy tired out, morning light broke into the room.

The bed was a mess. Filthy with Andy's juices. At least her personal dildo was clean. As Kyle always will be. It brought a smirk to her face. It vanished as Andy saw Mave sitting by. She looked bored out of her mind.

"Sorry I had an itch to scratch."

"That I could see. And I guess it won't be the last time."

"So, oh mistress of mine. What now?"

"Right, you are waiting for a third wish." Andy gave a deep sigh. "And many more afterward." Every time Andy would masturbate Mave would be summoned anew. In a way, Andy had inherited Kyle's unlimited wish exploit.

"Those are the rules that bind my kind," Mave agreed.

Andy pondered her third wish. Always stumbling over one little detail. "You know what sucks? If I wish for anything material as my third wish I don't get to enjoy it. As I am immediately am whisked away to a new location."

"Not necessarily," Mave mused aloud. "It all depends on how you phrase it."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't tell you a wish, remember."

After a moment, Andy figured it out. "Alright. Let's get the show on the road. To collect all of your extended family in my body. No choice in fighting that. It's funny. I guess for a very long while no one will see a genie anymore."

"Unless they rub you," Mave corrected.

"Yeah, not looking forward to it. Alright. Let's get ready. I wish that whenever I teleport to a new place a fitting outfit for me is spawn closeby."

"Wish granted," Mave said proudly. "I knew you could figure it out."

And with those words Andy, soon mistress of ten thousand genies, vanished to her next adventure.

Welcome Readers,

this is Cassandra Beckstein. Your top journalists at the pulse of time. Today's expose on Supervillains Exposed is number thirty-seven: Mistress Barbie.

Helen Barker grew up a normal girl on a farm in Arkansas. In school, she didn't stand out. In fact, most of her friends described her later as just a tad too shy. Helen later attended a local community college. Switching several times her major.

It all changed as The Event happened. Just like the other five percent of humans, her hair changed to an unnatural color - in her case bright neon pink - and she gained a superpower. However, she managed to keep hers hidden from friends and family for over two years. Citing her power was embarrassing.

Her power was revealed by the "power registration" law the Senate passed. Helen - who by now interned at a fashion company - was required to reveal her power to a panel of judges. Put on the spot she used her power to make an attending police officer sing "Barbie Girl". A song by the Danish-Norwegian dance-pop group Aqua. Helen insisted that her power only manifested in this way - making someone sing "Barbie Girl" - and nothing else. She also claimed that this was the only song she could make people sing.

The police officer in question - Jamie Russell - later stated in an interview that it felt like a strong compulsion:" I knew what I was doing. It was just every other action felt trivial compared to continuing to sing Barbie Girl. Funny thing is that I am pretty sure that I never had heard the song before. Yet, I knew the lyrics. I sang the whole song and then started anew until Miss Barker released me."

It was established that victims of Helen Barker's power would continue to sing until Miss Barker would release them. Because of Helen's reluctance to use her power and the apparent lack of harm to a person a serious lack of judgment transpired. Her power was evaluated on the lower end of strength as E-Rank.

Further two years passed without incident. However, an unfortunate event - a back alley robbery - forced Miss Barker to defend herself using her power. The assailant - Seth Dunlap - was forced to sing "Barbie Girl" until the police arrived. He had dropped his gun and even started to dance while singing. Mister Dunlap was a small-time criminal who was already wanted for other offenses.

While incarcerated, cellmates of Mister Dunlap first noticed that he often still would sing "Barbie Girl" from time to time. Quoting to them that this song was just an earworm he couldn't get rid off. However, soon changes made themselves noticeable. It started with behavior. When Muster Dunlop first set foot into the prison he was aggressive and easily provoked. Not one month after he was a stellar example of compliance. Along with the change of behavior came a slow transition of the body. Developing secondary female organs and a female physique. One year after his admittance to the prison Mister Dunlop legally became Misses Dunlop and was transferred to a correctional facility for women. While not a complete woman yet, doctors judged Miss Dunlop's body to have gone past the half-way point from male to female.

"It was eerie," Doctor Welsh later stated in an interview. "Each day she not just looked more like a woman, but an exaggerated version of the female body. Before our eyes, she turned to a life-sized Barbie doll."

Miss Dunlop was released after two years served for model behavior. Stating she wanted to be a role model for future generations. After the changing of Miss Dunlop the original assessment of Miss Barker's power rank was pulled into question. It was reclassified as a Rank C and Miss Barker was advised to not use her power.

Within a half year, Miss Dunlop made a comeback. This time as an up and coming Youtube celebrity. She soon became famous for wholesome content in the categories cooking, makeup, and fashion. But her rising star was already set to fall. Her fans soon noted the next steps in Miss Dunlop's transition. Most noticeable was the loss of height and slow decay of mobility. Soon her skin developed an unnatural sheen of plastic. In a last live stream, the audience witnessed Miss Dunlop shrinking down to the exact measurements and bodily details of a Barbie doll. To outside apprentice, she was an exact duplicate of the famous children's toy. Her body had turned to plastic.

She was presumed dead until a telepathic superpowered was able to make contact. On her wishes, Miss Dunlop was "donated" to a kindergarten.

As the case of Miss Dunlop became public outrage erupted and Miss Barker was put under pressure. Various media outlets dubbed her Mistress Barbie. Experts state that this might have put Miss Barker at the edge of collapse. The tragedy unfolded as the Danish-Norwegian dance-pop group Aqua became aware of Mistress Barbie's ability using their song. As they feared bad press the group decided to sure Helen Barker for copyright infringement. This was the match to light the powder keg. In a pre-trial meeting, Miss Barker snapped and made not just the lawyers of the accusing side sing Barbie Girl, but her own lawyer too.

While Miss Barker escaped the building another detail of her ability become obvious. The longer the original singing of a victim lasted the stronger and faster their transition to a toy Barbie Doll was. In this case, the lawyers were never released from the first compulsion and finished their change before the day was done.

An all-out APB for Miss Barker was released and Helen was soon cornered. However, she was done being hesitant with her use of the ability. "You want a Mistress Barbie? I then I'll give you one!" This shout caught on a cellphone by a bystander was the beginning of a massacre. Miss Barker, now fully embracing the name given to her by the press, used her power not just on the two dozen police officers, but on one hundred and eight civilians.

Mistress Barbie was soon up-ranked to S-rank and put on the most dangerous list issued by the FBI. Over the course of the next two years, her modus operandi changed. At first, she used her talents to rob banks. When people started to recognize her buying food or other groceries she was forced to drop robbing banks and instead rob whatever she needed. As the hunt for her lengthened - and with it, the list of law enforcement officers transformed - she started to make her ability a hobby. Her first mad hunt was for collector item Barbies. Namely people of rare jobs that she could transform into corresponding Barbie dolls. Everything from astronauts to state senators. Gradually she shifted to her second streak: famous movie stars. Eventually shifting to singers and models.

Mistress Barbie is still on the run and presumed extremely dangerous. If encountered authorities advice to back away calm and slowly. With special emphasis on not annoying her. Only contact authorities after you are out of her line of sight.

Mistress Barbie was last seen - or rather caught on camera - at the small stadium of Banksville where she made the whole audience of an amateur softball game sing Barbie Girl until their transformation was complete. While some speculated that Mistress Barbie singing along with her victims indicates that she used her own ability on her self authorities caution that this guess might be wrong. Telepath interviewed every victim and they all appear to be local.

While the fate of the victims is horrific to us many made their peace with it. Police Officer Janie Russel - the first victim and formerly James Russel - remark this in an interview: "When I found out the full scope of Mistress Barbie I was mad with anger. It seemed like pure horror. However, I had a lot of time to think about it. Me, being the oldest victim and with the least exposure, has the slowest change of all. It gave me time to come to terms with first becoming a woman and now the gradual change into a doll. I get to live on and be a role model for those that need it the most: the little girls of this and future generations."

At this point the last stages of Officer Janie Russel are evident. Her former impressive height of six foot and two inches had calcified to a just about five foot and three inches. However, as the final stage started her height dwindled further. Miss Russel is for now bound to a desk job as her dwindling height of just about four foot and decreasing mobility make patrol work impossible for her.

Despite those circumstances, Officer Russel seems to be content. "To be honest, sometimes I wish the change would be faster. My niece is turning four this summer and once my transformation is done I will be hers. Then, when she outgrows me, I will be donated to a local kindergarten. Something I recently started to look forward to."

For now, no new victims surfaced recently. But do be vigilant. If you spot Mistress Barbie clear the area first and then contact the authorities.

This was Cassandra Beckstein for Supervillains Exposed.

Don't miss the next issue about "Doctor Midas". A man you don't want to shake hands with.

Earon chuckled to himself. Which certainly was quite normal given that he was a young trickster god. But today his chuckling was a little more profound. He was sure that today's prank would be his best one yet. Not that it was hard to prank mortals. But still, he tried to beat his previous best. That is what trickster gods do.

He really had to stifle his chuckling as mortals drew near. A group of adventurers. Two of them women. Perfect for his goals. As they drew nearer Earon check the last time if his illusion was perfect. Instead of his usual roguish self, everyone would see a beautiful woman instead. Dressed only in sandals, a chainmail bikini and underneath it a leather bikini. To appear busy he let a sword dance over a whetstone.

His bait was set and sure enough, the group of adventurers couldn't resist it. They drew nearer with smirks and laughter. Earon had a hard time not to join them.

"I think you lost a few pieces of your armor," one of the females taunted him. She was a warrior by the looks of it and his main goal.

"Not at all," he answered in a melodic female voice. "I am just abusing the rules of this world."

"What? To give orcs an erection so strong the die of heart attack?" a male wizard scoffed.

"Of course not!" Earon replied in his best-appalled voice. "I dress for protection. This chainmail bikini has an armor rating of eight. And that is before mastery bonus."

"Uhh. So impressed," a female ranger mocked him. "Your boobs must feel so secure. At least those parts of them not sticking out of the sides. And what about your belly? Arms? Tights? Your very throat is open to any blade to cut it."

"Oh, my," Earon said with his best condescending voice. "Have you never heard of secondary armor rating synergies? You poor lads."

"Secondary what?" the warrior asked.

"Secondary. Armor. Rating. Synergies," Earon repeated slowly. "You never heard of them? Let me explain. Have you ever witnessed someone in a heavy armor, like in full-plate, whose defense was breached? Yet their wound oddly shallow. That's thanks to the secondary armor rating synergies. One-tenth of the armor rating is transferred to the skin. Reducing wounds on unprotected areas."

"This is bullshit," the thief of the group threw in. "Even if it was true then your bikini is worth nothing. One-tenth of eight isn't even one point of armor rating."

"Ah.Ah.Ah," Earon rebuked him. "You forgot to account for armor type mastery. And mine is quite high."

"How high?" the female warrior asked.

"One hundred and twelve," Earon let them know with a patronizing smirk.

"One hundred and twelve? That's too high. Each mastery level gives twenty-five percent bonus and this would mean-"

"An armor rating of twenty-two point four on my skin," Earon finished. "Of course, only full points count."

"You are pulling our legs," the wizard accused him. "There is no way anyone can reach such a high mastery."

"Really?" Earon asked with a smirk. "Tell me. Why do those in full plate armor gain slower mastery than those in leather wamps? Or a cloth robe?"

"Because of the material?" the warrior guessed. The thief thought a moment longer and threw in "The amount of material?"

"That's the one," Earon confirmed with a bright smile. "The less material the faster the mastery. And as you can see there is hardly any material on me."

Earon saw a few reluctant nods. He knew it was time for his finishing move. "I see you hesitate to believe me. Well, you are free to see for yourself. Strike me down- That is if you can."

"You want us to kill you?" the wizard asked.

"Use any weapon you like. It won't even scratch me."

"It's your funeral," the warrior murmured as she drew her sword. She gave a light swing at Earon's arm and to her disbelieve it was deflected by the skin alone. She struck harder and harder, but to no avail.

Of course, it was not some silly rules that Earon had made up protecting him. The very thought of mortals hurting a god was ridiculous. Earon's smile grew wider as he sensed the thief sneaking behind him. A moment later he felt a knife slide over his throat. Now he adjusted his illusion to show on the throat of the female beauty the faintest of redness.

"Uh, I felt this one," he commented dryly.

"That's not possible!" "Witchcraft!" "Maybe some strengthening magic?"

The adventurer's group fleet in their confusion, as they couldn't make sense of what happened before their eyes. As soon as they were far enough Earon broke out in laughter. It had gone better than he hoped.

But his celebration was cut short as he heard a second roaring laugh behind him. Angered he turned around. Just to see a warrior standing behind him. Earon didn't need the color scheme to identify the individual.

"Lucasus. What grants me the honor?" Earon asked. Disdain colored his voice. "Doesn't the god of righteousness and heroics have better things to do?"

"Oh, don't be like that," Lucasus said with a chuckle. "I am just admiring your illusion. Very shapely. One could fall in love with it."

Earon shuddered. He let the illusion slip away before that old perv jumped to the false conclusions. "Do you have any business with me?"

"Not exactly," Lucasus admitted. "I am just here to give advice. From one god who has been around for some time to one freshly ascended."

"I don't need no advice," Earon snapped back.

"Are you sure?" Lucasus taunted him. "Because right now you made a big mistake."

"Which one?" Earon demanded to know.

"Never mess with the beliefs of mortals. It is those who fuel our world. They got their minds set that this world follows rules and numbers. Statistics and fixed probabilities. That a plus one sword is better than a normal one. That armor provides a complete defense if the material is high enough. Now you introduced new rules for your prank. If enough of the mortals believe those then they will come true."

"If enough believe in them," Earon repeated in a mock voice. "But they never will. But a few will try and get gutted or worse. It will be hilarious."

"I warn you Earon," Lucasus said with every ounce of dignity he could muster. "Abandon that prank or in the end, it will come back to haunt you."

Earon waved him off. "You know what. I don't believe you. In fact, I think I'll do this over and over. Just to prove you wrong."

Lucasus was left alone as Earon teleported away.

"Young trickster gods," Lucasus remarked to the empty clearing. "So predictable and so foolish."

* * * * * A half mile down the road. * * * * *

"It can't be real, right?" the warrior asked her group as they brought distance between them and the unnatural display.

"It had to be a trick," the wizard agreed.

"It sort of was."

The unknown voice made the group stop. Close by a warrior rested on a stone. His armor decorated with sky blue scales and silver accents. When he stood up an aura unfolded and the group fell to their knees. Bending their head to the god Lucasus.

"Please, my friends," the god said. "Lent me a moment of your time."

"Of course," the warrior exclaimed and the others nodded.

"That lady in chainmail bikini you just saw was no mere mortal," Lucasus explained. "No. It was the newborn goddess Zelliastra. As you know newborn gods and goddesses are often a well of previous unknown secrets. The rules she explained are true. All of them. But it might take some time to reach the level she described. Only those most dedicated will reach it."

"Thank you for sharing this wisdom with us," the warrior said.

"Do not thank me," Lucasus reminded them. "Thank Zelliastra, goddess of chainmail bikinis. For it is her that brings this knowledge to you mortals."

As the group nodded Lucasus couldn't help but add. "You see I am very invested in Zelliastra's success. For it is foretold that she and I will fall in love. One day we will be wed. Please spread the word. You might be ridiculed at first. Just remember how you looked down at her at first. Please bear with it. Spread her word."

"We will," the warrior vowed.

Lucasus smiled. His work here was done, but far from over. He could already sense Earon pranking another group. It brought a smile to his face.

* * * * * Fifty years later * * * * *

"Stop training you imbeciles!" Earon shouted from atop a hill. He overlooked the royal academy and its training grounds. There, dozens of women clad only in chainmail bikini trained with each other.

"A problem my dear?"

Turning around Earon spied Lucasus sitting on a nearby boulder. "You!"

"Yes, me," Lucasus agreed. "What is it, my dear Zelliastra."

"Dargh!" Earon shouted. "Not you too. This cursed name. Why do I always hear this cursed name? I even hear prayers for hear. And look at me! Why can't I wear anything besides a chainmail bikini anymore? Everything I wear falls apart and I find myself always naked or in a chainmail bikini. Why? Just why? Year by year I look more like a woman. I am a man, yet why am I growing breasts?"

"Zelliastra, my dear," Lucasus interrupted her. "All that is just logical. Remember your prank of fifty years ago? Don't you look more and more like the illusion you used?"

"I stopped doing that prank decades ago!" Earon shouted. "Yet now-"

"I told you it will come to haunt you," Lucasus remarked. "With enough mortals believing- Well. At least I can assure you that it is not entirely your fault this is happening."

"It is not?" Earon asked why narrowing his eyes.

"You see there was that God who visited each of the adventurers you pranked," Lucasus explained. "He explained that you were the Goddess Zelliastra in disguise. And if a God says something mortals tend to believe it."

"You!" Earon shouted. "It was you, wasn't it? The god that started this. Why did you even care about any of this?"

"To protect you, my dear Zelliastra," Lucasus admitted. "From yourself. Let me explain. Please. Then you will understand."

Reluctantly Earon nodded and Lucasus gave him an honest smile.

"A few centuries back there was a newborn trickster Goddess. Much like you. She concocted this crazy prank to lure adventurers to their death by sending them on heroic quests. To do this she disguised herself as one of them. A brave warrior."

"But not all of those adventurers parished. The brave warrior wasn't remembered as the one leading them to death and doom. No, he was remembered as the one who was the bravest among them. Who faced any peril no matter how dire. The legend grew and with it the belief that the warrior was a God who tested worthy warriors. As the belief strengthened so was the influence on the Goddess. Until one day there was no Goddess anymore. Only Lucasus."

"So you were bitter about it and-"

"No, my dear Zelliastra," Lucasus interrupted his accusation. "Do you know about Gylamek?"

"The harbinger of food fungus?" Earon asked confused.

"Former trickster God," Lucasus revealed. "Zusannia?"

"The old crone of the swamps."

"Former trickster God. Berideck?"

"I get it!" Earon snapped. "Trickster Gods prank themselves."

"You might not be happy now," Lucasus admitted. "But one day you will. You will be beautiful, have a righteous purpose and a loving husband."

Earon nodded along, but then looked up. "Husband?"

"I spoke too much," Lucasus said with a wink. "My dear Zelliastra, I can't wait to see you in all your glory. Find me in a decade or two. Then we talk more."

Then, from one moment to the next, Lucasus was gone. Leaving behind a cursing trickster God.

* * * * * Two hundred years later * * * * *

"Ladies and gentlemen. It is true!" a young lad exclaimed. He was propped up with his wares on the stage of a large inn. "Put these plugs into your butt and soon you will never have to use the outhouse ever again."

"Just because we put something in our shitter won't make us stop shitting!" a drunkard shouted.

"True," the lad admitted. "Not at first. But the more your mastery of these plugs rises the less waste you produce. I assure you that-"

The lad was drowned out by patrons of the inn booing him out. He had to leave as the food was thrown at him.

In the back of the inn, a warrior leaned to his companion. "Trickster Gods these days. Their pranks get worse and worse."

His companion reached out with her arm and he took her hand in his. She was a vision to behold. A lady most graceful. Her curvy form barely hidden by her finely crafted chainmail bikini.

"Say, oh husband of mine, was I ever this naive?"

"We all were, my dear Zelliastra," Lucasus remarked. "It is practically written into the rules of the world."

"Right you are," Zelliastra agreed. "Yet, I can't help but feel pity for this poor lad of a trickster God."

"There is nothing we can do," Lucasus reminded her.

"Oh, there is," Zelliastra corrected him. Kicking back her chair she climbed the table. As she activated her godly aura the room fell silent.

"My name is Zelliastra. Perhaps you heard of me. I am the Goddess of chainmail bikinis. When I was new to the world no one believed my message. Now everyone knows it as true. The lad you just witnessed was no mere mortal. It was my daughter Zsofenia in disguise. her message is hard to believe, but please pay her attention."

Lucasus climbed up beside her. "A daughter, eh?"

Zelliastra gave him a wink.

"The next trickster Goddess will be our son."

"Deal," Zelliastra agreed.

With both in agreement, Lucasus activated his godly aura too. "It is as my beautiful wife said. Our daughter Zsofenia only wants the best for you. And who here really likes to go to the outhouse anyway?"

Stunned people around them nodded, but one had the will to speak up. "But why is your daughter disguised as a lad?"

Zelliastra gave him a beaming smile. "Because she is even more beautiful as I am. Fearing that people might be distracted by it she chose to stay hidden."

"Please good people spread the word," Lucasus threw in. "But keep our names secret. Our daughter is as proud as she is beautiful."

There were more questions and the holy couple only too eager to answer them.

As they eventually left, Zelliastra whispered to her husband. "A daughter. Only a few decades left. I hardly can wait."

A mile down the road a trickster God sneezed. Clueless that his destiny had been just rewritten.

Allan groaned as his radio sprang to life.

"Gooooood morning Seattle. This is XYZ radio and it is just past seven," the male radio host practically screamed in enthusiasm.

"In this cold weather hot news are flashing through," the female co-host pitched in.

"That is right. Naomi! The name of the new named flu. It is an African-American strain with a gorgeous face and a well-developed body. If you get my meaning."

"I think we all get it," the co-host said dripping with fake overdone resignation. "I mean don't they all look like that?"

"So you aren't excited?" the host jibed.

"Of course I am! Finally a non-white named flu. It's been ages!"

"We had Lucy the year before last."

"Which was half white and half Asian," the co-host countered. "A real non-white was half a dozen years ago. Remember Selina?"

"How could I forget. I caught Selina back then," the host admitted. "Now for those who don't want to catch Selina or any other old named flu, get vaccinated now. It won't help you now with Naomi, but ..."

Alan finally managed to stretch enough to turn the radio off.

"What a scam," he mumbled to himself. "All the pharma companies are in the pockets of the clothing and makeup industries anyway."

Still grumbling he managed to step into his bathroom and shower. Then made his way downstairs to the kitchen. His parents already busy eating.

"Morning," his Mom greeted him. "Don't get too close. I think I got the flu."

"First Meghan and now you," Allan commented. "Dad isn't so good looking either."

"I always look like that. It's my dreading-to-go-to-work face," his father joked.

"Speaking of. Where is your sister?" his Mother asked. "MEGHAN!"

They heard steps upstairs and then a goddess with chocolate colored skin descended the stairs. Wrapped in a blanket, she was nearly naked.

"Mom. Dad. I think I caught Naomi," the woman, presumably Meghan, said.

It was hard not to stare. Allan cursed the named flus. His sister was thirteen. A dweeb. She shouldn't be attractive to him. Or sexy.

"Looks like it," Allan's Mother agreed. "Don't worry sweety. It'll only last a week or two. I'll call the school that you'll be late. We need to get you some clothes. I hope the stores already carry something for Naomi."

Allan rolled his eyes. "Of course they do. It's a rigged game. They knew Naomi would break out."

"And our son is off on his conspiracy theories again," his father joked.

Grumbling Allan finished his cereal and then got ready for school.

*****

"Damn," Zachary, Allan's best friend, exclaimed. "Naomi is hitting hard."

"Looks like it," Allan agreed. No matter in which direction he looked. He saw at least a dozen walking around the school ground. "Even Meghan has caught it."

"Really? Lucky guy," Zachary commented.

"Dude! She's my sister!" Allan protested. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

Grumbling and a little disgusted he left his friend behind to go to class.

*****

"Good morning Seattle! It is seven on the clock and here is XYZ radio. I am your host ..."

Silence greeted Allan as he managed to hit the off button on his alarm clock. For a moment he contemplated to just fall back into the bed. He didn't feel so good and he could already feel a light headache building.

Nonetheless, he dragged himself out of bed. Hit the shower and then made his way downstairs. He winced as he saw two Naomi's in the kitchen.

"Morning," he greeted them. "Which one of you is Meghan?"

"Neither," the left one said. "Your Dad and I caught Naomi too."

"Great. Just great," Allan commented dryly.

"Sweety. Are you alright?" his mother asked. "You don't look so well."

"I am fine," he brushed her off. Only to be betrayed by his body as he had to sneeze.

"Sounds like tomorrow we will be all Naomi's," Meghan joked as she came downstairs.

"No way," Allen protested. As if he could avert it just by saying it. "It's just the regular flu."

"Honestly Naomi isn't so bad," his father added. "I don't feel any strong compulsions or changes in behavior. Remember the time you caught Giselle, Allan?"

Allen cringed. How could he forget? For two weeks he had spent in a young woman's body that was obsessed with fashion. He blew his savings of a few months of allowance in just one week. Then he had begged his parents for more money so he could buy more dresses. It reminded him that all those clothes were hidden up in the attic. "Just in case," his mother had said. There was always a chance that any old flu came back and infected someone of their friends or family.

"I totally forgot," was Allan's sarcastic reply. "Thanks for reminding me."

"Don't be like that," his mother chided him. "It could be fun to be a family of just Naomi's for a while."

"No thanks," Allan cut her off. "I eat on my way to school. I am not gonna catch Naomi from you."

Both his parents looked at each other and shrugged as their son stormed out of the house.

*****

"Dude. Look at that," Zachary exclaimed while waving over all of the Naomi's around. "Naomi is hitting hard."

"Damn," Allan cursed. "Every third person I see is a Naomi."

Zachary grinned after Allan had to sneeze. "Looks like you will be joining the club soon. Can you send me pictures, like the last time? When you had caught Stoya?"

"Would you shut up about that?" Allan hissed. The time as a Stoya had been embarrassing. A lithe female body obsessed with sex and everything related, Stoya had turned his world around. His parents had to give him house arrest for the fear of him boning random guys on the street. However, they hadn't taken away his smartphone and as a Stoya, it sounded like a good idea to send his best friend nudes.

"I only did that because of the compulsions," Allan continued. "No way I do that by choice."

"Party pooper," Zachary said with a grin.

Allan shook his head and walked into the school building.

*****

"Good morning Seattle," the radio host chimed up and was immediately silenced by Allan.

"Good morning to you too," Allan said beaming into the room.

He felt a lot better. The reason for it he saw in the mirror. Gone was his muddy brown hair and eyes. Instead, blond hair and smoldering blue eyes greeted him. Along with a familiar female body.

Full on excited, Allan clapped his hands a few times, until another thought hit. He had nothing to wear. The was the carton in the attic, but that was so last season. Well, more like last year. Still. It was better to wear boys clothes to the mall.

He scrambled to run for the attic and retrieve them when he ran into a Naomi.

"Allan?" she asked.

"Yes!" Allan beamed.

"You caught Giselle again," she pointed out.

"Isn't that wonderful?" Allan asked. "But I so need to go to the mall."

"Later honey. First I have to drive you to the doctor," the Naomi said. "I go tell your mother and sister and you get dressed."

Allan pouted. So the Naomi was his dad. And he had to go to the doctor. In old clothes! What a shame.

*****

"Allan Compton?" the doctor asked as he came into the room.

"Yes," Allan beamed. "Well. Maybe for now Alli?"

"Short for Allison?"

"I guess," Alli agreed.

"I see this is the second time you contracted Giselle?" the doctor asked.

"That is correct. I am so lucky to be this pretty again."

"And you know what a second contraction of the same flu means?"

"I'll be this awesome for ten years?"

"Give or take, but yes. We will do some general tests and then you get a prescription."

"I need to take drugs?"

"A second contraction means a hardening of the named flu for ten years. In this time you are a source of infection for others unless suppressed by medication."

"I hate taking drugs," Alli pouted.

The doctor gave a sigh. "Right. One symptom of Giselle's is an aversion to medication." Then he looked up and caught Alli's eyes. "Listen. This prescription is for your hair. If you take it once a week it gets silky and smooth. But not if you take it irregular, too few or too many. One per week."

"I want silky hair," Alli chimed up.

"As soon as we ran some tests. A nurse will come for you and we speak later again."

Alli nodded. She couldn't wait to get this over with and head for the mall.

*****

Allison Compton groaned as her alarm clock sounded off. At once she knew something was wrong. Looking down into her pajamas she spotted what she dreaded. Her dick was back. All her lovely womanly features gone. She knew this would happen. Second infections of a named flu last about ten years. When she was overdue for nine months she had been hopeful. Maybe she could be one of those rare cases were the second infection becomes permanent. No such luck. She did what her heart demanded. She cried till she couldn't anymore.

Eventually, she had to face the reality. Once again she was in the body of a sixteen-year-old boy. The named flu always reverts back to the original body the same way it was before the flu started.

There was no helping it now. Then again, she had planned for this moment. She hurried to write her employer an email. They too knew that this would happen. Allison had made a deal months ago. She would get a month off to get used to her old body. At least that was what she had told them. Allison had no intention to remain a small little boy.

In the back of her closet, behind clothing she maybe never wears again, was an old outfit from her childhood. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to wear it long. At last, she snatched her keys and an envelope with cash.

It took her a half hour to reach a bar that was open twenty-four seven and found the barkeeper she was looking for.

"Hey boy. Twenty-one or over. No minors," the barkeep greeted her.

"I am twenty-seven years old," Allison replied calmly.

"And I am eighty-one," he countered.

"I am serious," Allison chagrined and slammed her personal I.D. on the counter. On it not only her picture as a Giselle but one from her sixteen-year-old self too.

"I am serious too." He gave her a charming smile.

For a moment Allison raked her brain. He had a named flu too. She thought it was Brad, but she wasn't sure.

"So, Miss Allison Compton, what can I get you?"

"Jelly Shots. I like to see your menu," she replied calmly.

"Not here," he advised her.

After flagging another man to take over for him he led Allison to a stockroom in the private area of the bar.

"So what should it be?" he asked and showed her an assortment of small flasks. "I have Dan, Brad, Jason..."

"No men," Allison interrupted her.

"I see. No worries. Maybe Kylie? I got Stoya since yesterday. An oldie but goldie."

"Had it once. Not a fan," Allison shot it down.

"Well, let's see. Cindy, Natasha, Naomi, ..."

"Wait," Allison interrupted him again. "How many flasks of Naomi you have?"

"At least two," he said with a smirk.

Allison was intrigued. Back then she had been annoyed by the Naomi's. Now she wondered how it would be to live as a Nubian goddess for ten years.

"I take it," Allison declared. "As long as you have the shots too."

"Of course," the man replied. "Listen. These are illegal. Don't let yourself be caught with them. And don't take the full shot. They are portioned for adult bodies."

"Got it," Allison said with a nod. Immunity repressing shots could get one killed. If taken too much at once. But they practically guaranteed that Allison would get Naomi.

They negotiated a price and not five minutes later Allison was out. Already planning ahead. The first shot would give her one to two weeks as Naomi. If she liked being a Naomi she could get a second infection and gain ten years as her. Just in time for her vacation to end. It was worth the risk. Smiling she headed home.

Trisha woke up and - like every day - the first thing she did was check her diary. As always the latest entry was detailed. Even small events of the previous day have been written down in a small neat handwriting. If someone would take a look it probably would appear if Trisha has trouble with her memory. As if she couldn’t remember the day before. Which, incidentally, wasn’t that far off the truth.

Having read the last entry she got up to prepare for the day. A shower was first. Including washing her hair. Normally it would have been due yesterday, but as always the other Trisha has pushed it onto her. Sighing she got to work. In a way, it was only fair. It was her after all who wanted to keep the long hair. Done with her shower she got out and faced her dressers. Time to select the outfit of the day. Everyone around her knew that she had her tomboy moods and her girly-girl moods. Of course, for Trisha, it was always was the girly stuff. She picked a light summer dress and headed downstairs.

Her mom was already cooking her favorite for breakfast. French toast. Yesterday it had been a salad. Not that Trisha would have known without her diary. Soon she was done and headed upstairs to put on some light makeup. Sometimes she wanted to go a little heavier, but the other Trisha always argued against it. Consistency kept them out of trouble for the last few years. Trisha remembered too well the many shrinks of her early childhood. It was before she started with her diaries.

The buzzer rang and Trisha quickly scooped up her school books. In seconds she was down the stairs. Opening the door she gave James, her boyfriend, a passionate kiss. She slipped on a pair of sandals with a slight heel. Sometimes she debated with herself to ask the other Trisha to go for a higher heel. But she knew the answer. Consistency. Meaning no.

Hours later she returned home. James had given her a lift. She didn’t mind that he still smelled a little of sweat, as he came from basketball practice. She herself had been occupied by the photographer's Club. She found her mom in the kitchen. Preparing the dinner. As always they shared how their day had been. After dinner, Trisha made her way up to her room. Homework was done quickly. She took more time to write in her diary. Every detail of the day that seemed important was written down. After she was done she joined her mother downstairs to watch one of their favorite shows together.

---

Sean woke up and like every day the first thing he did was check his Journal. As always the last entry was detailed. Even small events of the previous day have been written down in a small neat handwriting. If someone would take a look it probably would appear if Sean has trouble with his memory. As if he couldn’t remember the day before. Which, incidentally, wasn’t that far off the truth.

After he had carefully read the last entry he stripped out of his boxers and muscle shirt. The other Sean’s preferred sleeping garments. He sighed. So much for the PJ’s he had recently bought recently. The shower was quick. As always Sean raked through his short hair and wished it was longer. Couldn’t be helped, though. Consistency.

Getting dressed was equally fast. Short cargo pants and a polo shirt. Nothing to fuss about. Downstairs he could smell and hear the bacon and eggs sizzling in the pan before he even entered the kitchen. What landed on his plate was quickly wolfed down. He had witnessed itself so often, still, it always surprised Sean how many carbs his body needed.

After having his fill he walked upstairs to get his backpack with school books and the small sports bag with his basketball outfit. Today wasn’t his team's training day, but Sean and his buddy James liked to spend some time after school on the court anyway.

The doorbell rang. Speaking of the devil. Sean ran downstairs and opened the door. There was a moment when his instincts told him to kiss James. Instead, he gave his best friend a fist bump. Just like every day. Consistency. Couldn’t be helped.

It was late when Sean returned home. As always he was dropped off by James. He knew the other Sean wanted a driving license. He wondered how long he could put it off. After dinner, he did his homework and then some work around the house. The last thing he did was write in his Journal. In great detail, he wrote down every even slightly significant event of the day. Before closing, he judged how many blank pages were left. Not many. Time to get a new one soon. It was time for bed and he felt a little mischievous. Quickly he dressed in the PJ’s he had recently bought.

---

When Trisha woke up the first thing she did was check her diary. There, in neat small handwriting, unfolded the previous day. It looked like she had a date with James on Sunday. He originally wanted to go out on Saturday, but the other Trisha insisted on Sunday. How considerate of her to move it on a day Trisha could enjoy the date. Now Trisha felt bad about the PJ’s. However, one thing made her gasp. Right at the end, there was a sentence she thought she would never read. “If there was a way to end the switching, would you take it?”

She enjoyed a leisurely shower, but she was deeply in thought. Later she joined her mother downstairs for breakfast. Granola and yogurt. Not a bad start to the day. Still, her mood was a little down. Sometimes she wished she could talk with her mother about it, but her past proved that this was a bad idea.

When James showed up she became cheery again. For a moment at least. There was a decision to be made.

In the evening the last thing she added was a “Yes I would.” She had to write it twice as the first sentence was blurred and smeared by her fallen tears.

---

He woke up naked. The usual when the other Sean wanted to make a point. Boxers and muscle shirts or nothing. Message received. There on the desk was the Journal. Sean read it carefully. It was longer than usual as it contained more than just the last day. There were some confessions about other days. Days when Sean had written wrong details in. About him searching the web and other mediums. There was a ritual. All the details were listed. Tomorrow was the day. Sean was sure it was for the best.

The last time he enjoyed the greasy goodness of his mother's cooking. Bumped fists the last time with his homey James. Played the last time with his basketball team. The day went by quickly. Maybe just a little too quick. He was sure this was his last day in this reality.

---

Trisha woke up with a heavy heart. If this worked she will never again wake up as Sean. Pretty much like every day she performed her morning rituals. Navigated through her day on autopilot.

In the evening there was her first break from her usual routine. There was no new diary entry. If this worked there was no need for one. She stepped to the dresser that contained her tomboy clothes. Usually, she didn’t wear those. They were part of the other Trisha. In the bottom drawer, she found the materials her other self had gathered.

After locking her bedroom door she started to draw a circle with white chalk. Sprouting and expanding from that circle were runes, patterns, and figures. Certain materials found spots on certain positions. She looked at the clock when she was done. It was too early. There was still another hour left till midnight. Nervous and on edge she started to pace her room.

Five minutes before midnight she sat down inside of the circle. The strange chant she had to perform came easy over her lips. Even with the words unknown and foreign to her.

The white lines of the circle started to glow and Trisha’s heart leaped seeing it. It was working. The magic was real. Slowly the glow became stronger. Soon shining in a blinding intensity.

When the glow ebbed the circle was floating in a strange darkness. To her surprise, she wasn’t alone. Opposite of her sat someone in the circle.

A face so familiar she knew every detail of it. Half her life she had seen this face in the mirror. Since she was born she had worn this face every other day.

It was her other self. The Sean when she had been Trisha and the Trisha when he had been Sean. She had shared both her lives with this person. Yet never imagined to one day see him or her.

There were so many things she wanted to tell or to ask. But there was no time. The ritual had to be completed. Never would she read the words of her other self. Find a page of journal or diary written not by her. They had weathered so many challenges in their lives. Apart yet always together. Living the same life as a boy and as a girl. Sharing the same mother, but lived in parallel timelines. Each new day switching between those two realities.

No more. With the ritual complete they would be severed forever. She would be bound to this reality as Trisha. He would be bound to the other as Sean. She saw him study her as she studied him. Saw his eyes starting to mist as her own started to grow wet with tears.

She reached out to him and drew him into a hug. Pressed him at herself with all her might. She had been foolish. How could she ever give him up? “I can’t go through with it. Can’t let go of you. I love you.”

Her mind registered the light flaring up again. Heard the cracking as the light broke from the confines of the circle. Saw it as cracks and faults started spider webbing the darkness. She didn’t care for any of it. All that was important was holding on to him.

“I love you too.”

She barely heard him as light swallowed them both.

---

A ray of sunlight woke her. At once, tears started to flow. It had worked. Despite that, they hadn’t completed the last part of the spell. It was the next day and she was still Trish. It took a while to find the strength to leave the warmth of her bed. To stumble into the shower and mix her tears with the water falling on her head.

When she finally left the shower she found swollen and puffy eyes staring back from her mirror. She wanted this. To see her female reflection for the rest of her life. So absorbed in her wish that she hadn’t seen the price she had to pay. Her other self, it was now Sean. Forever. Outside of her reach for eternity.

She dragged herself out of the bathroom and was startled. Only one dresser. The one with her girly clothes. The one from her other self was missing. Wiped from her existence. There were other details too. His or her touch on their bedroom was gone. Not even the diaries remained. It had been their choice. They had to live with it.

Her head hung down she left her bedroom. When she reached the top of her stairs the guest bedrooms door suddenly opened. She knew the face that appeared. Had seen it thousands of times in the mirror.

“Sean!”

She flung herself into his arms. Enjoyed the strong embrace. Smelled his familiar scent. Felt his familiar clothes. Looking over his shoulder she saw the guest bedroom. Filled with the typical stuff a boy would gather. Things she helped to amass.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered in her ear.

“Me too,” she equally quietly admitted.

“Trisha! Sean! Your breakfast is getting cold!”
The shout belonged to their mother.

Grinning, Trisha grabbed her brother's hand and dragged him to the stairs. Only to stop atop of them.

“Look,” she urged Sean.

Lining the wall were pictures of them. She knew every one of them. Had seen them a thousand times. Either Trisha with their mom or Sean with their mom. Never before had she seen them like this. All three of them together.

Grinning like little kids they made their way downstairs.

“What is up with you two today? And don’t tell me it’s another of your things being twins,” their mother complained half-jokingly.

“Nothing. Just a nice Saturday morning,” Sean said with a cat’s grin.

“What he said,” Trisha agreed with an equal smile.

Like many mornings the doorbell rang and Trisha’s heart sped up. She dreaded a little what this new reality might have in store for her.

Of course, it was James. Sweeping her up into his arms and planting a heartfelt kiss lessened her worries. The brofist with Sean scattered them completely.

This was perfect. Their new merged reality was everything Trisha had ever hoped for. There was a lot she wanted to talk with Sean about. But for now, she chose to simply enjoy the moment.

The end.

"I am still not sure about this," Endre complained. "I don’t trust these pods."

Alma Jespersen, the captain of the H.T.M. Florette, chuckled. "Don’t worry. These auto-docs are quite safe and sophisticated. We don’t have much time to fatten up your unhealthy male body. This means you got to use the auto-doc. I also need to adjust your body. It needs to be able to blend better in.”

“Is that really necessary?” Endre wanted to know.

“Of course it is. You have to decide young mister Kertesz. Keep your gaunt male body - unattractive and sick as it is - and get off my ship. Or you trust me and my plan. I smuggled dozens of refugees past the Aurelian customs. And to be honest a new body might do you good. Just think about it. A little meat on the bones goes a long way."

Endre nodded. What choice did he have? This was as best as it could get. "What do I have to do?" he asked.

"Besides climbing into the auto-doc? Nothing. Now in you go," she urged.

Reluctant he complied. As the canopy of the pod closed he could see his own reflection. It was familiar, yet still ghastly. As if someone had pulled skin tightly over a human skull, but forgot to add muscle and fat beforehand. He had to agree. No matter what body he woke up with, it could only be a better one.

---

"Welcome back Miss Balzary," captain Jespersen greeted the still sleepy Endre.

He rubbed his eyes with surprisingly soft hands. "How did you call me?" he asked and then wondered about his voice. Missing was the wheezing and rasp. Instead, it was soft and melodic. Not to mention higher in pitch than he was used to.

"I called you Miss Balzary. Juliska Balzary to be exact. That will be your new identity. Get used to it," the captain told her rather harshly.

Looking down Juliska, formerly Endre, saw a strange and unnerving view. Soft skin and lush curves. There was no doubt. He was a she now. Never had she imagined waking up as a woman. Yet the proof was right there under her exploring hands.

"Enough." The clipped command made Juliska lookup. "Time to get up! We are getting close to the Aurelian border. We already transitioned into the system and are de-accelerating as we speak. In three days we'll be transitioning into orbit. There are still preparations to be done."

The captain walked away and Juliska dropped out of the pod rather ungainly. For the first time in a long while, she didn't stumble around because her body was too weak to properly support itself. This time she stumbled as her new body was unfamiliar and her proportions were all wrong. Still, she managed to barely keep up.

"Don't I need clothes?" Juliska inquired.

"Clothes? No. Yes. In a moment. Come," the captain told her while marching on into a big hall in the center of her ship.

Around them stood carefully arranged displays of antique findings from different species. Most of them were extinct. She stopped in front of a big mirror. Now Juliska saw for the first time her new body. It was beautiful, but to her shock also not human. In their rush, she hadn't noticed the additional pair of ears or the strange hair. More resembling layered membranes. Still, she was a breathtaking beauty to behold.

"You are a Zeraph. A species everyone thinks is extinct. That is not quite correct and not just because I just changed you into one. Come. Here stand on this podium. You see most Zeraph chose to go into hibernation. All at once. Must be a social thing. Lucky for you, their hibernation state is a very good disguise. Now take this pose."

Juliska took a look at the pad held up for her. It was a rather classic yet provocative stance. She was about to ask why, when she saw the look on the captain's face. It spoke of impatiens. Quickly she did as told.

"Good. No. The hand on your hip needs to be a little higher. Look up a little more. That will do," captain Jespersen directed. Then she stepped close and pulled out a small cylindrical gadget. "Don't look at me. Look ahead. In a moment I will spray gas at your face. Inhale it, but don't move. Do not even blink. The gas will trigger the hibernation of your body. Once you are on Aurelian we use an antidote."

Before Juliska could reply she heard the sound of aerosol sprayed and she breathed it in involuntary. As best as she could Juliska tried to stand still. It was hard at first as she didn't dare to even continue to breathe. Then it got easier. The pressure in her chest slowly vanished. After, what felt like a minute she tried to breathe and blink. Both eluded her. As hard as she tried her body remained unmoving.

Captain Jespersen lifted her hand and gently knocked on Juliska's breast. Strangely it sounded as if she was knocking on stone.

"Perfect. Now for your clothes..."

The last thing Juliska saw was a big tarp pulled over her and then just darkness.

---

"Over here." Juliska knew that voice. It belonged to captain Alma Jespersen.

"I must admit I am always impressed seeing your collection," an unknown male voice commented. "Though I admit I don't know how you pull it off. A flying museum of this caliber. It can't be this profitable."

"On the contrary. It is quite profitable. My collection is quite exquisite and my clientele is very limited. They pay a fortune. Lucky for you this job of yours gives you ... free admission," the captain replied in a playful voice.

"Most looks to be in order. Now I saw on your manifest something new. A Zeraphian statue. How in the world did you get your hands on another one? Most can't get their hands on one in a lifetime and you find them by the dozens."

"I wish it were like that, but I am just the person delivering it. Someone else holds the secret to the origin of these beauties and someone else will own this one," captain Jespersen lied.

Suddenly the tarp was pulled off and Juliska could finally see again. Close by she saw the captain and a man in a uniform. She guessed an officer of the Aurelian customs.

"Breathtaking!" the man exclaimed. "You know I always wondered why we only find female statues of the Zeraphian people."

"Who knows," the captain commented. "They are extinct so we may never know, but I heard a theory recently. Some speculate that the Zeraphian have no genders. They are all asexual. They just look like what most other species associate with women."

"Yes. Who knows," the customs officer agreed. "Anyway, your papers look to be in order, and as much as I would like to admire your collection my duty calls elsewhere. Good day captain Jespersen."

"Good day to you too," came the reply.

A moment later Juliska was being dropped into darkness again as the tarp settled in place once more.

---

Juliska must have dozed off or something similar as the removal of the tarp and the bright lights utterly surprised her. People she hadn't seen before milled around. It looked like they prepared the other exhibits for something.

Then she felt the soft touch of brushes on her. Someone was taking care of her too. A young woman meticulously cleaned every inch of Juliska. The careful touch of her brushes felt oddly pleasing to Juliska. Not in a sexual way, but still very good.

Once done the young woman stepped back and quietly studied Juliska for some time. Other cleaners soon joined her. "You know," the young woman started. "I never knew what made 'art' so special, until I saw my first Zeraphian statue."

"It will be your last," came the hushed reply of another worker. "Provided you keep staring instead of doing your job."

Blushing the young woman did get back to work and so did the other workers around her. For a moment Juliska was disappointed. She had liked the admiration of them. Of course, it was a silly thing to care for. Soon she would get an antidote and then her male body back.

Disinterested she saw how the workers placed tables around followed by plates of food and glasses full of exotic beverages. It was strange. She hadn't eaten in days and by all means, she should be starving. Yet the view of the food meant nothing to her. She didn't even feel hungry.

Slowly Juliska's mind caught up and her theory proved right when the workers vanished. Switched out by serving staff. All too soon captain Jespersen led groups of visitors in. Proudly showing off her collection while making small talk. The highlight of each tour was, of course, Juliska.

"I have to have her," a fat man in a luxurious suit proclaimed. He looked intensely at captain Jespersen. "I pay you five million credits."

Juliska's mind was spinning. What an amount of money. Back on her home planet as Endre, the most he ever had owned was eleven credits. Now that pompous asshole offered five million. Juliska's mind ran wild with how many people could be helped.

"I am sorry. She is already sold. I am fortunate enough that I was permitted to display her, but as soon as my exhibit has run its course she has to be delivered. And no, you can't overbid her sales price. I can't sell what I do not own."

Juliska would have grinned if she hadn't been immobilized. That pompous ass could not get his grubby fingers on her. No one would. Just a few more hours and then she would get the antidote.

To her shock, he wasn't the only one that offered money for her. Time and time again a visitor would try to haggle for her. While Juliska's disgust for the rich people grew her respect for captain Jaspersen grew equally. Other patrons offered money to buy Juliska but captain Alma Jespersen declined them all.

However, at the end of the day, Juliska was confused as the captain once again covered her with the dreaded tarp. Soon the next day was around and it all repeated. The workers cleaned and prepared. Then, later, the dozens of visitors gawked at her naked form.

It was after the seventh day that captain Jespersen turned to Juliska and finally addressed her directly. "You made me some fine money. Thank you for that. But now we have to part ways. I wish you happiness in your new life."

Juliska was elated. Finally, she would get the antidote and be able to walk and breathe again. Next was a male body. Lost in thought she didn't see the tarp in time to feel disappointed. Once again she was plunged into darkness.

---

A lot of movement and distant voices. Finally, the tarp was pulled and Juliska could see again. She was in another luxurious hall. There was no sight of the captain. Instead, she saw rows of statues. All in the image of Zeraphians. She also saw a man. Dressed in clothes that must have cost a fortune.

"And she did it again," the man wistfully claimed. He stepped close and continued. "My name is Sverre Van Stensen. Welcome to my home Juliska. You turned out better than expected."

He stepped close and let a hand roam over Juliska's hard surface as he circled her. Finally, he stopped while being behind her. His hand never left her, but now moved in a circular motion, just above her buttocks. Juliska had to admit it felt nice. Even pleasurable. Then suddenly a moan escaped her and she took a step forward. She nearly collapsed on the floor as her body was flesh again. It was Sverre who caught her in strong arms.

"Easy. Take it slow. I just paused your hibernation. My hand on your back activated an emergency reflex of your body," he told her.

Juliska whispered thanks but needed a moment to gather her strength for more. "Where am I?" she wanted to know.

"On Aurelian, of course. That is where you wanted to go, right?" Sverre asked amused. "And to be more specific you are now in my collection."

"In your collection?" Juliska angrily pushed herself away from him. "I am not a slave. That was not part of the deal."

The bellowing laugh made Juliska twitch and take a few steps back. "You don't know. I should have guessed. Jespersen likes her little games of deception. Good chance you know nothing important and I would bet you even used to be a man."

Reluctantly Juliska nodded. "Don't know what?" she angrily demanded to know.

"The hibernation. Zeraphian's lives are long. For us, it appears eternally, but that is just our point of view. Their hibernation lasts a long time. A millennium, in fact. But most importantly all I did was pause the hibernation. In an hour or two it will resume."

"Then change me back," Juliska pleaded. "Make me a human again. Change me back into a man."

"Why would I want to do that? I paid good money for you. Don't worry. I am a good owner and caretaker. Treat me as such and I will pause your hibernation often."

"No!" Juliska shouted and ran away. Pushing through doors and rooms at random. Yet she found no way out. The building was a maze too confusing for her to figure out. She collapsed crying. Tears dripped on the floor.

Suddenly she lost control of her body. It stood slowly up and assumed a familiar pose.

"Excellent!" exclaimed a voice behind her. A moment later Sverre Van Stensen walked around her and looked into her motionless eyes.

"The control implants worked. You see those before you sometimes others declined to pose for me. Freezing in an unsightly stature. Now you have the honor to be the first one with implants. They detect when you are close to slipping back into hibernation. Then they override your motor function and pose you in the same pose when you first entered hibernation. Isn't this neat? Consistency. A rare gift. Ahh. I see your skin harden again. Once again welcome to my collection."

Chuckling, he walked away and left Juliska alone. Now she had to face the ugly truth. She was not human anymore. Just a statue. Art. Utterly at mercy of her new owner. All she could hope for was that he might forgive her outburst soon. So she could move again. Hopefully, before she lost her mind. She wanted to cry, but another truth was simply that hibernating Zeraphians do not cry.

---

Weeks had gone by and Juliska had hardly noticed it. Most of the time she was standing with her pose and thinking. Ever since she woke up as a Zeraphian she hadn't slept a moment. It struck her as very odd that she hadn't felt the slightest bit of mental fatigue. Then again her mind behaved strangely too. Most of all her sense of time was screwed. On an intellectual level, she knew that twice a day a service droid came by and dusted her off.

She also knew that Sverre had two "dates" each day with one of the other statues. All of them people that were tricked into their current race by captain Jespersen. With just above a dozen statues and Sverre's habit to cycle through them, Juliska had three times so far the dubious honor to be his date. With about a week in between the dates she knew she shouldn't be surprised or caught off guard when he revived her. Yet time and time again she was just that happened.

It must be the strange habit of her mind wandering off. Utterly lost in small and insignificant details. Right now she was counting her pores. A task that should be impossible for her as a statue. Yet somehow she could feel every part of her skin down to the smallest dent or pore. Her mind could track every inch she had explored and memorized which pore she had counted and which was still to count.

But there was more. Juliska felt herself on the brink of finding even more. If she could feel every part of her skin then maybe she could also feel what was beneath. She somehow knew that all she had to do was concentrate a little more and-.

She stumbled forward and nearly fell to the floor. Only thanks to Sverre she managed to avoid the fall. "Is it already time for a date again?" she wondered aloud.

"Why is every one of you Zeraphians always surprised?" Sverre wondered aloud.

"Just distracted by my own mind," Juliska defended herself.

"That's what the others say too. I sometimes wonder what a statue might think about that is so distracting," Sverre mused.

Juliska blushed slightly. No way she could tell him that he disturbed her while she was counting her own pores. He surely would think that she was mocking him if she told the truth. "Just silly things," she commented with a shrug.

"That too is something the others say," he added. "Sometimes I get the impression that you all would gladly be stuck as statues."

That gave Juliska to think. Did she want to remain a statue? Maybe not forever, but she remembered the feeling to be so close to a discovery about her own body. If she just had a little more time. A day or two. However, asking Sverre for more time as a statue was a risk she couldn't take. He might even take offense and Juliska knew his type on her homeworld. Silent and polite, but exploding in anger if slighted.

"Of course not," she replied. "Without you to keep me company, it is way too boring as a statue. Why else would we be lost in silly thoughts."

She was rewarded with a laugh. Once offered she linked arms with Sverre and was escorted to a nearby room. So far her worst expectations had been proven wrong. Despite the allure of her beautiful and sensual body, he had always remained the perfect gentlemen.

She sat down at a richly decorated table. While viewing the offered delicacies she came up with a little plan. He was already spoiling her a lot. Maybe if she demanded a little more he would revive her less often and she had more time as a statue.

Juliska gave a big theatrical pout. "No snowberries of Kentaris five? I liked them so much."

To her surprise, Sverre laughed out loud. "Getting spoiled a little? It must be in the Zeraphian DNA. I swear soon or later every one of your kind becomes a spoiled little diva." Before Juliska could comment he patted her hand and continued. "I promise next time they will be there."

With her little plan foiled she stood before another enigma. Had the others tried the same plan or were it true that they all tend to become spoiled? It joined the other big unanswered question. Where did go all the food she ate? So far she never had to use a restroom. Mentally shrugging she let her attention return to the date. If the others acted like spoiled little divas Juliska saw no reason to not act the same.

---

Crystals! Not stone. The discovery elated Juliska. Sverre's collection had been growing and it, in turn, stretched the cycle. Finally, Juliska had enough time to concentrate enough to explore below her skin. It was amazing to her. She didn't know how she came to the conclusion, but she was sure she had a fine crystalline structure instead of flesh. Shifting between hibernation and normal meant a shift between the density of her crystalline structure.

The more she learned about her new body the less certain she was that hibernation was the correct term. She didn't sleep and her mind was more active than when she was mobile. With her senses heightened she made discoveries she hadn't thought possible.

Suddenly she stumbled forward again. Time for another date with Sverre. It annoyed her to no end, but she hid it well behind a smile. While she made pleasant small talk her mind was busy thinking about what to explore next.

---

It made surprisingly more sense than she had thought. Her "hair" was an organ in itself. The layered membranes were a multifunctional organ to digest a varied array of radiation. Light. Heat. Even the minuscule background radiation of the planet. It all was consumed by her hair.

As she ended her exploration of her hair voices drew her attention. One was from Sverre and the other was familiar too. A moment later captain Jespersen came into Juliska's view.

"Why did you get me here in person?" the captain demanded to know. "This was the thirty-ninth statue. One more and the contract is fulfilled. Do you want to extend it for more?"

"No. I think forty will be enough. It is the last statue that I wanted to talk to you about. I always knew I wanted someone special," Sverre admitted.

"What do you have in mind. A have quite a few resources to ... Oh, you bastard. We had a deal!" While shouting captain Jespersen drew her blaster and fired at something behind Sverre.

Slowly she withdrew while firing and she vanished out of Juliska's sight. A moment later two menacing androids crossed Juliska's gaze. Stoically advancing toward the captain and ignoring the blaster impacts on their force fields.

"This is a mistake Sverre. I have friends who will hunt you. You won't be safe. You ..." the captain's speech ended in a scream. Then a moment later the two androids dragged captain Alma Jespersen's body past Juliska.

Maybe she should have felt elated that the traitorous captain got her punishment. Yet all Juliska could muster was to feel annoyed by the disturbance.

With silence returning she focused her attention on her ears. Her guess proved right. They may look like ears, yet they revealed themselves as so much more. Small sensor arrays that could detect the finest changes around her. Juliska was sure they were the reason why she could explore her body while frozen in place.

Only when she finished her recent exploration she noticed something strange. It had been a long time since Sverre had revived her the last time. As she couldn't find out why she resumed the exploration of her body.

The next event that drew her attention was the sudden build-up of energy. She couldn't see the source, but soon she deducted the reason. The android who took care of them stopped its usual routine of cleaning them.

Sometime later, the room was plunged into darkness. Once again Juliska couldn't find out why and focused on exploring her body instead.

---

Juliska's focus was deeper inside her body than ever before. Slowly the knowledge about her reproductive organ blossomed in her mind. It served as a male and female organ in one. A Zeraphian could will the production of a seed egg. Carrying the materials and information needed for up to twenty-five embryos. A second Zeraphian would insert said egg and then give birth to the number of possible babies.

Further study eluded her as she suddenly stumbled forward into the darkness. Not Sverre's strong hands caught her, but smooth female ones.

"Sorry to disturb your self-exploration," whispered a melodic female voice close to her. "My name is Lucinda and I need to speak to you."

"Juliska," she replied. "You moved on your own? Is already a millennium past?"

"Maybe," Lucinda admitted. "Maybe not. I found out how our hibernation works. It was crude how Jespersen dosed us. An aerosol might carry enough to cause our change for a few centuries or a few millenniums. Depending on how much one breathed in. Listen well. I found the organ that produces the chemical starting the shift. It too can reduce it. It is located right beneath..."

Juliska followed intensely the description. So far she had only explored her body. The thought that she might be able to change it hadn't even occurred to her.

All too soon she lost control of her body again and she resumed the old familiar pose. It reminded her of another point she might want to change. The control implants robbing her of the choice to pose herself. But first, she had to find the organ controlling her shift. Quickly she lost herself following the directions.

---

Something had changed. Not just one of the given constants around her, but several. It drew Juliska's attention outside of her own body. It wasn't one of the other Zeraphian's moving. By now all of them had gained the ability to become mobile at will, but trapped in a treasure room without lights or energy there was only so much to do. Sometimes they revived themselves to share discoveries, but this was not the case now.

The others still stood on the positions Juliska had last sensed them. Still, there was a slight current in the air. So minuscule that most instruments wouldn't register it. The cause was an equal faint vibration coming from the far end of the room. But there was more. The fraction of change of the air's temperature as it got barely warmer. The hint of electromagnetic energy in the air. Then there was light so faint that her eyes couldn't detect it.

It continued till a loud sound and heavy vibration rumbled through the room. Soon erratic cones of lights danced over her fellow Zeraphians. Humans and strange aliens that Juliska hadn't seen before entered the treasure room. Talking in a strange and unfamiliar language.

It stuck Juliska as immensely funny. She had been changed to revive an ancient alien race and now she had become ancient herself. Nearly she shifted into her mobile form just to laugh about this absurdity, yet she resisted. Those aliens might be startled and do something stupid.

For now, she chose to wait, be patient, and learn. The same tactic the other had to be chosen too as none of them moved either.

---

For the first time since her arrival at Sverre's collection Juliska's surrounding proved to be more interesting than the space within herself. There had been a lot of activity after their discovery. Now, Juliska and the others had found a new home in a public museum.

Every day another string of curious people rushed past her. Most paused before her or one of the other statues and marveled at her beauty. She had to admit she liked the attention.

But while they studied her, Juliska studied them. Most of all their language. Besides Standard and some broken Aurelian, she had never learned another language. Now she learned the foreign tongue without context, but still at an amazing pace.

Patiently she enjoyed the admiration. She didn't even mind more years passing by.

It was the fifth anniversary of their discovery that changed it all. The director was just starting his speech when a voice cut through. "Statues- That is not quite right," remarked Lucinda while stepping down from her platform. Murmurs started all around her and Lucinda quickly continued. "We mean no harm and I apologize for not revealing us sooner. I decided to wait until I learned your language and my companions concurred."

"But you were stone before! How is that possible?" came a shout from the audience.

"A crystalline structure," Lucinda corrected. "We shift between densities based on need. Previously we had been, for a lack of better words, in a hibernating state."

Further questions sprang forth and other Zeraphian took the opportunity to mobilize themselves and join Lucinda in educating the people. Reluctantly Juliska joined them. For hours she had to endure question after question. At least now she could thank people when they commented on how beautiful she was.

Thankfully the patrons of the museum proved to be friendly and hospitable. One offered Juliska clothing and she started to laugh. "I am sorry," she apologized. "It is just that I spend nearly one and a half millennia naked. I think it is a little late to start with modesty."

It was near the end of the day when it all started to die out. Most visitors had left and Juliska noticed a fellow Zeraphian avoiding her companions and the patrons alike. Curious Juliska couldn't help but investigate. The shy Zeraphian noticed Juliska's approach, but couldn't successfully avoid her.

As Juliska drew close she recognized the other Zeraphian. "My. My. If that isn't the famous captain Jespersen. Well, not a captain anymore. Mind if I call you Alma?" Juliska teased her.

"Please don't tell the others," Alma pleaded in desperation that puzzled Juliska. "I'll do anything if you keep my identity secret."

Juliska was stumped. Why was Alma so scared? She nearly laughed out loud when the answer came to her. Of course, she had betrayed them all. Promising refuge and then selling them off. But that was lifetimes ago. While Juliska had a crystal clear memory of her centuries as a Zeraphian the details of her once human life eluded her. Had it really been that important? Maybe for the wrong reason, Alma Jespersen had revived the Zeraphian race. Still, Juliska couldn't blame her. More so she felt grateful.

Looking at the scared fellow Zeraphian Juliska had to admit she was kind of cute. It gave her an idea. Alma had revived the Zeraphians. Maybe it would be fitting if she was the first to help their race further along.

Stepping close Juliska purred an "Anything?" Not waiting for the reply she continued. "I promise to protect you provided- Have you find out how Zeraphians procreate?"

A shy nod gave Juliska cause to probe further. "Right now I ordered my body to produce a seedling egg. Once ready you will take it in. Bear my offspring Alma and I swear I'll protect you."

The scared look on her face changed to one of relief. Smiling Juliska stepped close and gave Alma a passionate kiss.

---

Juliska enjoyed the warm sun slowly climbing over the horizon. To her, it didn't matter that the rays of sunshine first had to pass the thick safety glass of, what most people referred to as, the Zeraphian embassy. She knew that soon the pedestrian way would fill with curious people. By now the novelty of the Zeraphians had waned off, but still, plenty of people enjoyed the sight of Juliska and her people.

Of course, she attracted more looks than others. Not because of herself, but the Zeraphian that nestled in Juliska's embrace. Her hands were frozen protectively over Alma's growing belly. Juliska knew she was close to giving birth to their third child. Just another year and a half. It still amazed her that their child could still grow even with them in their solid-state.

It kind of vexed Juliska as it always brought one of the remaining questions to her attention she couldn't solve. Just how did they manage to convert pure energy to matter. The answer still eluded her. Of course, it was the opposite twin of the other enigma. Just where did the matter go when food and drinks were consumed.

Not that it bothered her a lot. Sooner or later she would find out. For now, she looked forward to holding her third child in her arms. Followed by the twenty other children that the Zeraphian biology dictated Alma would bear. And maybe that was even just the start for them. Juliska knew that she was with one and a half millennia still young. A few dozen millennia still loomed ahead and patiently she let them come to her.

The end.

Quick author's note:
This story is based on suggestions by my friend Aisling.
I wrote this story as thanks for her dedication and support as a patient test reader of my stories.

When Stelios found it, he knew his life would change for good. It, in this case, was a divine seed. With it, any mortal could ascend to godhood. That meant soon Stelios would be a god. The question was what kind did he wanted to become. One might say such a decision was easy, but it proved to be harder than Stelios had thought possible. In fact, he held onto the divine seed for over a week now.

The last few days, he sat on a bench in the central plaza of his university. Students milling around him. Oblivious to his internal struggle. He eyed each and every one of them. After all, he needed one of them to awaken him as a god. Stelios knew that he had to approach one of them. Then demand to know what god they wished for. This very wish would dictate what god he will become. It was also customary that the chosen mortal would then become the first head priest of the new god.

Which mortal to ask was more important than most people knew. One wrong wish and Stelios might end up as Stelios, the god of vanquishing foot fungus! He shuddered at the very thought. No, he needed a mortal with a pure and elevated desire. Someone like-

He stared after Nerine Moysiadi as she hurried past him. Nerine might be perfect. She was a dedicated law student and a goody two shoes. Everyone on campus knew that. Stelios, the god of law and justice, had a nice ring to it. She dressed nicely and took care of herself. He reasoned that the chance she had foot fungus was very small, which was definitely a plus. Still, he couldn't be hasty. He had to research Nerine first. Make sure there were no hidden black marks on her.

With new purpose, he stood up. There was work to do.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was late. The library had just closed. Stelios knew so because he had waited in front of the building the whole evening. Waiting for Nerine to show up. Maybe she was more into researching and studying than the law itself. Still, Stelios god of academic pursuit didn't sound so bad either.

Finally, Nerine showed up and he started to follow her. It was a deserted little pathway to the on-campus dorms were she suddenly twirled around. Pepper spray in hand and ready to strike.

"Can I help you?" she spit out.

"Whoa! Just wanna ask you a question," Stelios replied while taking a few steps back.

"What?" Nerine demanded. Not trusting the fellow that followed her one bit.

It was now or never. Stelios pulled out the divine seed and showed her. "The mortal by the name of Nerine Moysiadi, I chose you. Reveal your innermost longing for the divine you seek and I will answer the call."

Stelios grinned. He had managed the ancient invocation without messing up. Now he saw the surprised look on Nerine's face. She struggled to speak. Probably wanting to say something besides her wish for a god, but the invocation and the divine seed wouldn't allow it.

Eventually, she stopped fighting it and she shouted out her wish. "I long for a goddess helping me to finally get laid."

For a moment Stelios wondered if he had misheard. Then light erupted from the seed. It blinded him so much that he couldn't see the changes happening to his body. He only felled them and they didn't make sense. It was as if an invisible force pushed, pulled, and prodded him.

Soon they subsided and he could see his new body. Only that one didn't make sense. It was all wrong.

"Why the hell am I a girl?" he asked aloud. Cringing at the same time as he heard his new voice. It was one that spoke of arousal and wet dreams.

"Of course, you are a woman," Nerine exclaimed. "Why would I, as a woman, wish for another god. Do you know that only twenty-five percent of all divine are female? It was high time to balance it out a little."

To Stelios dismay, he had to agree. Not that disagreement would help him out. Once a goddess always a goddess.

"And what the hell I am even wearing?" Stelios demanded to know.

Technically "wearing" wasn't correct. Gone were his former clothing. Only a single long ribbon floated around 'him'. It playfully floated around 'his' long legs. Drew close around 'his' hips. Mostly to barely hide 'his' new privates. Then it wound one time around his waspish waist before it did a poor job hiding 'his' breasts.

"I think it is rather fitting for a goddess of your type," Nerine remarked.

Stelios took an involuntary step back as 'he' saw her gaze. It was as if the ribbon was invisible. Stelios had a hunch. "So, I am some kind of sex goddess now?"

"Close," Nerine admitted. "Goddess of lesbian seduction."

"Lesbian?" Stelios repeated confused. "I didn't know you were a lesbian."

"No one knew," Nerine confessed. "I was a closet lesbian. Not anymore I guess."

"Fuck!" Stelios cursed out loud.

"Yeah," Nerine agreed. "That what's all about."

"No. I mean this is not what I wanted. With you being a student of law and justice I hoped to become a god of that vocation. Not this."

"Well, this is what you get if you jump the gun on someone unsuspecting. You should have asked me first. I would have told you that this was a bad idea. Although-" Stelios felt her gaze roam 'his' new body. Suddenly very aware how little the floating ribbon hide 'his' body. "I am starting to see the advantages. Now, how about you fulfill your duty and get me laid?"

A deep blush overcame Stelios. This was his new life now, but was he really ready for it? Only one way to find out. "How? Do you want to go into a bar and-"

Nerine stepped close and pulled Stelios to herself by grabbing 'his' slender waist. 'His' awkward mumbling was silenced by a needy kiss. "I thought more along the lines of you making me your head priestess. The perfect altar for it stands in my bedroom."

Not trusting 'his' voice Stelios gave a shy nod. Glad in a way that at least someone took charge and gave his divine fuck up a direction to work along. And sex was always good, right? Or was this thought whispered into his mind by 'his' new godly vocation?

"But before we go what is the name of the goddess I serve?" Nerine purred into his ear.

Stelios swallowed hard. Since when was Nerine so pushy? Of course, the answer was obvious. As 'his' only follower she received a boon to her nature. Making her more seductive and outgoing.

"Stelios?" 'He' stammered.

"That won't do," Nerine said as a wolfish grin spread across her face. "No idea, huh? Looks like I get to name you too. How about Lyriel?"

It was as if lightning struck Lyriel. This was her name. There was no more- What had been her name before? Lyriel couldn't remember. She knew that she used to be a mortal and male. Not anymore. Receiving a name changed all that. The memories remained, but they felt oddly disconnected.

Meanwhile, Nerine turned around and walked away. It took a few moments for Lyriel to catch onto the fact that Nerine had the end of her floating ribbon in hand. Slowly pulling it with her and exposing Lyriel. If she didn't want to end up bare naked Lyriel had to follow her new head priestess. To an uncertain future safe for one fact: there was probably a lot of sex ahead.

"I am sorry. Could you repeat the question?" Maybe Kilby just had misheard the interviewer.

So much depended on this job interview. Kilby needed it to pay the bills. But this was not just any job. Everyone was hyped for the new virtual reality MMORPG 'Gates Of Echo Online'. And if Kilby landed this job then maybe he got to play-test the game before anyone else. So far the interview had progressed well until one little question threw him out of the loop.

"Would you mind playing female characters?" The interviewer repeated.

Kilby tried to discern what the interviewer meant by that. However, their expression was unreadable as their avatar was designed to be. Something between genders. Facial features were pretty much non-existent. Much like a humanoid robot that gave up emulating humans halfway through.

"It is not my preferred gender," Kilby truthfully admitted. In fact, even with virtual reality he never had tried a female avatar. Didn't even toyed with the idea. "But if you don't have enough female beta testers I can help out."

"That is good to hear. Although we try matching the tasks with gender to an operator with the same gender it won't always be possible." The interviewer paused for a moment. As if unsure how to continue. "However, there is a slight misunderstanding. This job interview is not for a position of a beta tester. Are you familiar with our A.C.C.S.?"

Now, Kilby was confused. Why would the company hire 'seasoned players of virtual online roleplaying games' if not as beta players? Maybe if he impressed the interviewer enough, Kilby would find out. "It is that A.I. system the company unveiled at the last expo, right? Adaptive Content Creation System if I remember correctly."

"That is right," the interviewer confirmed. "One of our main features. The following is covered by the N.D.A. you signed earlier. This system works fine for creating quests and dynamic events. However, it is still very wooden and basic for subtle things. Like NPC interaction."

NPC stood for non-player characters. So every person in the game that wasn't controlled by a player. "In some way hiring me would elevate the problem," Kilby concluded.

"Correct. Fortunately, we anticipated the problem in the conceptual stage. We developers left open the possibility for employees to take over NPCs. The employees could then 'act' as said NPC. After enough time is passed the A.I. can then extrapolate fitting behavior for the NPC."

Kilby's mind switched into high gear. In essence, they needed someone to act like the NPC was supposed to act. Didn't sounds so hard. And as a gamer, it intrigued him that this game tried to have more than cardboard NPCs with a personality so thin it was comical. Kilby also spotted a way to win this interview and the job. "If I understand it correctly, I may be more suitable for the job than other applicants. I was in my school's drama club. It is by no way on a professional level, but I do have acting experience."

"We are aware. This is why you are in a closer selection for the job." The interviewer drummed their fingers on the table. The very fact that it sounded so realistically despite being in virtual reality still amazed Kilby to this day. In fact, virtual reality had reached a point in which the experience of both was hard to differentiate.

"There are just a few more details we have to discuss. In order to fulfill the job, it would be necessary for you to work in nine-hour shifts. As eight hours is the intended length of the day in the game. Do you think you can handle it?"

Kilby did his best to not smirk. "My record stands at forty-three hours. I know. That is far beyond the limit of healthy sessions. This was in my younger years. Nowadays I limited myself to a more reasonable timeframe of twelve hours. I don't know if it helps for you to know, but I have the latest long term model of the Sinclair Industries virtual bed."

The interviewer nodded. The rest of the questions was as easy as the last one. Kilby breezed through them. Finally, he heard the words he had been hoping for. "Well, Mister Matthews, welcome to the team."

* * * * * * * * * *

Kilby logged in and found himself in a futuristic white room full of plastics, chrome, and indirect white light. The lobby for the A.C.C.S. operators. He took a seat as others appeared and waited.

As always it was with a little anticipation. He had been an operator now for a month and had his little achievements to show for. One of the first non-player characters he controlled was a wood-worker. Supposed to carve some wooden beginner weapons. But in between customers - the few beta testers they had hired - it was boring as hell. They had warned Kilby it would be. In fact, this was part of why A.C.C.S. existed. In every game, the wood-worker would stand around waiting for the next customer. Maybe going through a few predetermined motions to animate him.

Thrown into the life of the wood-worker Kilby had started to play around with the tools of the profession. He produced misshapen animals carved out of leftover wood. It was pure boredom that had Kilby take up carving. The very fact was soon forgotten until his next assignment: a bartender. One of the town's guardsmen came by and showed proudly a few carved pieces of wood. Animals and such he saw from the top of the town's fortifications. Intrigued, Kilby visited the wood-worker in one of his breaks. The shop was littered with little carvings. Much more intricate than Kilby had managed. The system had picked up Kilby's behavior and implement it. More so it had given this quirk random NPCs in the virtual world.

A day later Kilby was asked to come into the office of his boss Mister Lloyd. Bracing for having fucked up somehow he was surprised that he was congratulated. The developers loved the carving hobby that the system picked up. It inspired Kilby and since then he tried to give every NPC something unique.

"Eyes up front."

Kilby was pulled out of his musing. Carter Lloyd stood at a podium in front of the room. It was the day for new assignments. Kilby wondered what NPC he would get this time. By all means, the handed out assignments were boring. A shopkeeper here. A farmer there. With each assignment read aloud Kilby gave a quick thought of what might be a fitting quirk or hobby for such an NPC.

"Kilby! Looks like you pulled your first bender."

Kilby gulped and waved off the smirks and laughs of his co-workers. A bender was a job that put you into an NPC of the opposite gender. He hadn't really dreaded it, but certainly, Kilby hadn't looked forward to it. He had also known that soon or later he would draw a bender assignment.

The details popped into his inbox. Briana was the NPC's name. She was a teacher and shopkeeper for players of the magical variety. Located in one of the designated starting areas of the game.

"Dismissed." Mister Lloyd stepped off the podium and the people started to scatter.

One of his co-workers let his hand fall on Kilby's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Good luck popping your bender cherry. Maybe you like it. You could switch with me every time I draw one."

"Very funny," Kilby remarked and brushed the hand off. Some of his co-workers were assholes.

A few quick commands and Kilby found himself in his own private lobby. As always the near instant change made Kilby's stomach a little queasy. As much as he loved virtual reality this was an aspect that needed some more work.

His assignment floated before him like a string of text written in lines of pure light. Briana the magical teacher for newbies. There was no sense in delaying it. Kilby braced himself as he touched the assignment.

The transition that followed was harder. For a moment everything vanished. Sight. Hearing. Even his body. Then it plopped back. A wooden shack greeted him. Shelves full of strange magical artifacts and arcane books. And looking down, a body not his own.

It was amazing - as always - how real virtual reality felt. It really had come a long way since it first had been invented. By now there was hardly a perceptible difference anymore. This meant the body Kilby possessed now felt real. But most of all it felt alien. It was subtle things that threw him off the most. Sure, suddenly he had breasts. That he had expected. Not the slight change in balance that resulted by it. In fact, trying to stand as he would normally soon made him feel like losing his balance.

It followed a little dance of over-compensation in this or that direction. Until he remembered that the game had a build-in instinctual assistance for bigger body changes. It had helped Kilby when he found himself in the body of a blacksmith with a hundred pounds more on his frame than Kilby's normal body. And it helped him now. After just a second he stood firmly again. Or rather Briana did as Kilby reminded himself. He had a role to play.

For now, he ignored the strange new sensations. Like wearing a dress - technically a robe - for the first time. To have long hair pull at his scalp. Or the added weight up front. Kilby cursed under his breath. Of course, the female NPCs were all busty. Sex sells after all and no one wanted unattractive NPCs. That meant a bust size that was big enough to satisfy the eyes of male players, but not big enough to annoy the female ones.

The shack was small. The room he was standing in had one side mostly open to a small dirt path and a big counter. Fairly standard for NPC shopkeepers. There was a small backroom that acted as storage. Not much else. The offered goods looked plain. Probably as they were starter gear. After all, a game needed progression. The truly impressive equipment was wrought out of dungeons and high-level quests.

On the counter was a book Kilby recognized. It always looked the same, yet the content was different. It contained Kilby's assignment and was always easy to find when he plopped into a new NPC. To distract himself from all things strange Kilby settled on studying the book.

Briana was supposed to teach new players the basics of the magic system. This alone excited Kilby as it was the first taste of the magic system he got since starting his job. With a content creation system, controlled by an A.I., spells were never the same. Each player would craft their own version. They may resemble each other, but all had their own flourish. At least that was what the developers promised.

To start a magical career was fairly involved and Kilby had to study the details. After all, if a beta player showed up Kilby - as Briana - had to explain it. Briana was also supposed to hand out a quest. An initiation rite to one of the four elemental paths of magic. It involved some knobby stick and pretty much poking things corresponding to the element one wanted to choose. Like a little scavenger hunt for the right object to poke. Kilby found it a little lazy on the creative aspect, but no one asked him.

After binding to an element Briana was supposed to hand out a starting rod or staff of the same element. Then trying to sell the players on some equipment that would be obsolete one or two player-levels later.

Having studied up Kilby tried to come up with a quirk or hobby for Briana. It proofed harder than he had thought. The shack was outside of town close to a pond were mischievous fairies played around. They were weak starting mobs players could hunt. That meant the shack bordered a small dirt pathway and was surrounded by a few trees and bushes. No one in their right mind would open a shop so far out of town. But this was a game and normal logic didn't apply.

Soon, Kilby found himself drumming Briana's slender fingers on the counter. Once more boredom had settled down on him. Maybe this would be the quirk he would leave her. The bored drumming of fingers. After all, she was alone out in the woods. It was fitting.

After two hours it got to him. Maybe it was the boredom. Or it was the curiosity that he tried to deny to himself. Kilby had to see how Briana looked. There was a mirror in the corner that he had ignored by now. It was maybe half the height of a full-length mirror. Enough to reflect Briana's face and a good chunk of her upper torso.

"Damn!" Kilby muttered under his breath. Some developers must have sprouted a boner while designing her. The girl starring back was leagues over being a simple shop keeper. Maybe she had been designed as a princess or an important quest NPC. Then her role was scrapped and her asset was recycled here. That was the only logic Kilby could come up with.

Briana looked mid-twenties. Beautiful face with high cheekbones and kissable lips. Her skin had some darkness to it. To someone who normally saw pale skin after pale skin in his surroundings, it looked exotic. Quickly chiding himself that this color of skin might be quite normal and boring in other parts of the world. Her face was framed by long tresses of black hair that cascaded down the shoulders and her-

Kilby swallowed. Damn, her breasts were things of beauty. Hesitantly, he raised his hands. Lightly cupping them. Not even managing to cover them by half. They felt kind of nice. He gave them a gentle squeeze. It felt good. Not the good that would let him moan out loud, but somewhat close to it.

Something bothered Kilby. Tried to get his attention. Did he hear whistling? At once Kilby let his hands fall down. Hiding behind his back. He looked around but could see no one. Yet the whistling became louder. There was a melody to it.

Kilby stepped to the counter and looked around. A lone guard leisurely walked down the dirt path. Seeing, Briana he raised his hand in greeting. Not a beta-tester as Kilby had feared. Only another NPC. But was it one currently controlled by an operator like Kilby?

"Hoy Briana!" the guard greeted as he stepped to the counter. "Do'in ma rounds. All quiet around here?"

Right, now Kilby remembered. In the assignment was written that a guard came by now and then. What was his name? Kilby couldn't remember.

"You are the first one I see today," Kilby spoke out loud. "Not even one wannabe apprentice of the magic arts came by so far."

"Well, still early in tha mornin' " The guard gave Briana a more discerning look. "You a'right lass? Lookin' a bit flustered."

More blood shot into Kilby's face. Now cursing how realistically virtual reality games have gotten. What was he to say? "Well, what do you expect? I just groped myself." Certainly, that wasn't the right answer.

"It is nothing," Kilby said instead. "Had to lift a box in the backroom. Left me winded a little."

"Ah see lass. Well, ah be going. Don't want no trouble with the capt'n."

The guarded waved goodbye and left. Leaving a cringing Kilby behind. What was that ridiculous accent? The guard had to be controlled by an operator trying to give the NPC some character. A huge fail. Or maybe it was the system? Mixing two accents together?

In any case, Kilby was alone again. Chiding himself for such a lack of judgment. Groping himself like that? What was he thinking? The system could pick it up and random NPC women would start to grope themselves too. He bet that wouldn't go well with the developers. Then again-

Kilby looked around. No one was there again. He gave his breasts a slight squeeze and a small moan escaped his lips. If no witness was around then who could tell? And maybe if Kilby didn't do it that often the system wouldn't pick it up?

After all, somehow a bored shopkeeper girl had to pass the time.

* * * * *

"Harems girl," Kilby said aloud. He had revised his earlier musing. Briana looked so sexed up she clearly was meant to be a harems girl. Or a courtesan. Brothel girl?

It was the second day of three in his Briana assignment. Damn, she was sexy. He even had dreamed about her this night. Not that he minded. It had been a pleasant one.

Once again he was bored. Nothing else to do but groping himself. Or was there? Kilby felt it. Briana's arousal. It had been strange at first. But he had gotten used to it. As far as someone can get used to arousal. It beckoned him to take a step further.

The guard had already been here and there probably wouldn't be any visitor in the next hour. Or in the next few. No one would miss him, right? The backroom was cramped, but a few novice cloaks build a decent enough makeshift bed. Slipping out of the robe proofed difficult, but not impossible. Then, Kilby stood alone in all of Briana's glorious nakedness.

It was the developer's fault, Kilby reaffirmed himself. Making this world so realistic. Creating Briana so real. Down even to-

Kilby steered Briana's slender fingers down. Between her legs. To the place of need that bothered him all morning. Explored the divine that blossomed with arousal. It didn't take long and Briana cried out in ecstasy. Voicing the deep satisfaction that Kilby felt.

Then Kilby cursed. Those damned developers. Too realistic. Way too good.

He tried for a second round.

* * * * *

Kilby giggled. One that would be wrong on his own lips, but right now he was Briana. It was the last day of his assignment. Soon it would be over and Kilby would have to say goodbye to being Briana. Maybe it was for the best. How many times had he masturbated as her in the last two days? Popping his bender cherry indeed. But Kilby had to admit he was getting addicted. Starting to crave the pleasure Briana's body could give him. Being forced to stop now might save him from going down a road he refused to acknowledge might exist. He had to stop. Now. But not before-

Outside the sky was already growing darker. The virtual day coming to an end. With it, Kilby's shift would end too. He had maybe one hour left. Just enough to satisfy one last curious thought. He laid down as Briana on the bed made of cloaks. Just like a few times before. Yet this time was different. In her slender hands was the knobby stick initiates should use to bind themselves to an element. It was the closest thing Kilby had found to a dildo.

Yes, he would do it. Himself. Well, herself. As the last act as Briana, he would learn how it felt to be penetrated. He placed the knobby stick to her netherly blossom. This was it. Euphoria and dread welled in him and mixed into an irresistible cocktail. A last deep breath and came out as a long moan as Kilby pushed it in.

A few last errant thoughts drifted through him. Should he really use the initiation stick for this? What was the worst that could happen? Maybe Briana would bind to water magic? Kilby shook those stray thoughts off. Only his need counted now. And Briana's. Because for a moment both were the same.

* * * * *

"Another day. Another assignment."

Spoken out loud these words didn't calm Kilby down. Briana was done. Time for a new assignment. Was that a good thing? Maybe he would get another bender assignment? Would it be like Briana?

Kilby shook forcefully his head. Briana had messed with his head more than he'd like to admit. But she was done. Time to move on.

Kilby's eyes focused on the floating button that would transport him to the shared lobby and to his boss Lloyd. There he would get a new assignment and in time he would forget about Briana.

The world shifted as the button was pushed. But Kilby didn't where he was supposed to go. No rows of seats. None of his co-workers were present. But he was not alone. Slightly raised off the ground a long drawn out desk stood before him. Behind it sat a row of people. Carter Lloyd - his direct boss - was one of them and as Kilby noticed everyone else was higher up in the company than him. In total, a dozen faced looked down at him. It left Kilby feeling like standing in front of a court and of being in deep shit.

"Mister Matthews," Carter Lloyd spoke up. "Glad you could join us. Please, take a seat."

Kilby swallowed. Hard. While Carter's choice of words was friendly, his intonation was everything but. Looking around, Kilby spotted a lone stool right behind him. Time to face the music. He sat down.

"Tell me, mister Matthews, how was your last assignment?"

Kilby weighted the words of his boss. It felt like the question was a noose for letting Kilby hang himself. He decided to be cautious. "Pretty boring, despite being my first bender assignment. Not much happened."

"And so you decided to change that? Have a little fun?" The question came from Kilby's right. A beautiful woman stared at him as if he was a pile of dog shit that she stepped into. Kilby looked at her nameplate in front of her. The name wasn't ringing any bells for him. Thankfully her title was visible below. She was the lead designer for the A.C.C.S. system."

"Okay. Fine. I admit it," Kilby gave in. "I was curious. Masturbated. But I made sure it was out of sight. I am sorry if the A.C.C.S. picked up the behavior, but at least the NPC's won't be doing it in public. I mean-"

"Mister Matthews." Carter Lloyds voice cut Kilby off. "Do you really think you are the first person to draw a bender and get curious? Then masturbate like crazy. Eleven times in fact. Which, believe it or not, is the middle field of first benders. It is quite normal to get curious. I fact, we anticipate that the first session of a bender assignment will be unusable. Subject to approval before the A.C.C.S. gets permission to incorporate the data."

"If that is the case why am I in so much trouble?"

"Can you explain what is going on here?" A wry man with weasel-like features ask. The nameplate identified him as head of the quality testing department.

Behind the man, a screen materialized. A video started to play in a loop. It was wire frames only. The contents of what happened stripped to the bare minimum. But it was obvious to Kilby what he saw. His last session as Briana. Furiously pumping the improvised dildo in and out.

Kilby started to answer but his voice left him. They had recorded it? A wave of embarrassment swept over him. This was humiliating. "C-Can't you just fire me and be done with it?"

"Oh for Christ sake," another man cursed. "No, we can't you fool."

There was murmuring at the table, but it was Carter Lloyd who addressed Kilby. "Tell us. Why did you use the initiation stick to frick yourself of, Mister Matthews?"

Kilby shrugged. What were they even after? He answered with what came first to his mind. "It was the most phallic looking thing I could-"

"You piece of shit broke my system because you needed a penis in you?" Kilby's head snapped around to the woman who was the lead designer for the A.C.C.S. system. She looked pissed off and ready to jump over the table and strange him. "Do you know how much you fucked it up? All because you are a horny little fucker who needed something between-"

"Jennifer!" the weasel face guy shouted out. "Calm yourself. And for you Mister Matthews, she right. You fucked up. Fucked us. Figuratively while doing yourself literally. The stick you used is to initialize the bond between a player and a chosen elemental school. The system tried to interpret you poking yourself with it repeatedly. Your body, or rather the NPC you inhabited, didn't count as any element the system could recognize. So it reasoned that there must be a new type of magical category and you trying to bind yourself to it."

"The system is designed to allow for that," Carter Lloyd continued. "In fact, it was supposed to be a hidden feature. It can create any more advanced magic system you know from gaming or books. Divine magic, necromancy, and whatever else. We just never thought someone would misuse the initiation item like that." He gave Jennifer a pointed look. "Though I did warn about possible magic variants that would be hard to control."

The lead developer stared back with a poisonous glare but remained silent.

"So it will create- What? A sex-based magic?" Kilby asked confused.

"If it could, yes," Jennifer hissed. As the lead developer turned back to him, she still gave him a stare that tried to kill him on the spot. But she was calm enough again to explain. "But someone logged out too soon. Since the end of your shift, the system is dedicating more and more resources to create a matching magic system, but it lacks input. Trying to create something from a vacuum is breaking the A.I. itself."

"So you need someone to go inside and give it more information?" Kilby reasoned.

Carter sighed. "Not just anyone. You, Mister Matthews. Part of the N.P.C. teaching system is that each assignment is tied to an operator and only closed once approved. However, the dilemma we face is outside of the assignment but linked itself to it. Even if we delete the assignment data the system still would try to create the new magic system. In laymen's terms, it has to be you, in the N.P.C. named Briana, and it has to be soon."

Kilby swallowed. He thought he had left Briana behind. Her body and all her feelings had been intoxicating. Now, it looked like he had to drown in it. Or else- "What if I don't do it."

"That is easy to answer." It was a dark-skinned woman on his left that answered. She was smartly dressed and had a no-nonsense look on her face. Her plate identified her as head of the legal team. "We will sue you for kingdom come. If the system crashes because of you then you can bet that the company will take you down with it."

"If it crashes? Can't you just use a back-up?"

"It is too big," the weasel-faced man answered. "It is one of the unfortunate drawbacks of a system so complex. The data it generates is massive. Creating back-ups - even incremental ones - takes time and is very expensive. We can afford one. Per year. Unfortunately, the last complete one was ten months ago."

So it was his fault they had made bad management decisions? Kilby knew that they wouldn't care if he pointed that out. For them, he was the scapegoat. Kilby didn't doubt that they would do their most damn to make his life miserable if their company tanked. There was only one thing he could do. "I do it. Become Briana again. Help make this magic system."

Now someone spoke up who remained quiet until now. A man with grey hair and eyes that spoke of a fascination with dissecting things. The CEO. "Wonderful. Told you he would co-operate, didn't I. Not sure why you all blew such a gasket. Carter, I leave the rest to you."

The man vanished and others followed. Even Jennifer, the lead developer, gave Kilby a last poisonous look and vanished too.

"You really fucked up, Kilby," Carter said with a sigh as soon as they were alone. "Fucked us both, to be honest. You just sawed three of my four chair's legs off. Hell, same for the company."

"Sorry," Kilby volunteered.

"Sorry?" Carter leaned forward. "The CEO might play it cool, but listen. You made yourself the linchpin of this company. If you can't pull this off then- Listen. For the next few days. Weeks. Months. You will become Briana. Spend every single moment of your life that you can as her. Only get out to sleep or eat. Every other second you have to spend as her and try to create this magic system. If not a lot of people will be out of options. Got that?"

Kilby nodded. There was not much else to say. With a ding, an updated assignment for Briana appeared beside Kilby. Mentally bracing himself, Kilby accepted it.

* * * * * * * * * *

Kilby blinked a few times and tried to gather his wits. He was Briana again. The body was surprisingly familiar after only three shifts in it. But why was Briana outside of her hut? Confused, Kilby looked around. He was out in the woods, but it looked familiar. Just a few steps brought him to the dirt path that leads to Briana's hut.

It was a small hike and soon Kilby arrived. But something confused him. Another NPC stood behind the counter and gave Kilby a wide grin. "Welcome traveler," she greeted him. "Would you by any chance interested in learning the mystical ways of the mana. There are four elemental paths to walk and-"

The NPC paused and looked bemused at Kilby. "I see you are already bound to magic, but not one I recognize."

"It's a new one," Kilby managed to press out through Briana's lovely lips. "I don't know how to call it yet."

"I see." The NPC immediately cheered up. "In that case, you need starter gear! Here take this simple rod of elemental conduct and a cloak of aspiring aspirants. Those are free."

"T-thanks," Kilby pressed out. Then blushed. The very cloak he was now holding must be one of those he used as bedding when he explored Briana's body.

"I need to put you in my book as a recipient. What is your name?"

"Kil-" He broke off. "It is Briana."

"Family name?"

Kilby frowned. It had been in the orientation book for Briana. Back when it had been a simple assignment. "Something like O Rothlain or so."

"Got it." The NPC gave Kilby a beaming smile again. "Say, you look like an astute young woman. Would you mind helping me out a little?"

Kilby suppressed a sigh. It was like the NPC tried to remind him that he was now trapped as a woman for the foreseeable future. "Sure?"

"Down that path is a pond. I used to go there all the time, but lately, mischievous pixies are fooling around there. Could you teach them a lesson?"

At first, Kilby wanted to decline. It was a stupid starter quest. Barely worth his time. But then he remembered his new obligation. To flesh out this new aspect of magic he created by accident. This might be the perfect opportunity to take the first steps.

"I got it." With those words, Kilby turned around. The walk down the path was actually nice. Once again marveling about Briana's body. It was less a walk and more like gliding down the path. An elegant little dance she performed as long as Kilby let Briana's instinct take over.

All too soon the pond was close. Kilby could already see the pixies flying around. Hovering in the air in wide apart spaces so players could take on each one individually.

Kilby readied himself. He got this. Or rather Briana got it as he was her right now. To steady herself, Briana smoothed down her robe and pulled out her rod. It was time to teach those pixies a lesson. She raised her weapon and-

"Shit. I am screwed," Briana cursed aloud. Her thoughts racing faster and faster until it bubbled outward. "How the hell am I supposed to defeat anything with sex magic?!"

At that moment Kilby knew that he would be Briana for a longer time than he thought as the task was a lot harder than he anticipated. Who would he be when he eventually free himself of Briana. And by that time, would he even want to? He was fucked indeed.

Amanda paced the room. This was her time. Her stage. To reveal her true self. No more being Tom. That was the past. She wanted to stop living as a boy. No more cross-dressing as a girl in secret. She openly wanted to wear girly clothes and shout out to the world that she should have been born as a girl.

Of course, her first hurdle sat on the couch. Her parents. Sitting in their khaki-colored delivery uniforms. Even when it was their day off. Both worked for a big delivery company. But it was more than that. They lived and breathed their job. They had a display case of miniature delivery vans in the dining room. Even their bed was build like a van too. Amanda hated to admit it, but her parents were nerds. And not the kind that was nowadays in style. They were lame. It was as simple as that.

"Mom. Dad," Amanda started as she could finally stop pacing through the room. She took a deep breath. "I am transgender."

Her father crooked the head to the side. He looked confused. As did her mother. "What's that."

"It means I am a girl. My soul is female. And I long for a body that reflects that."

"But you are a boy," her mother stated.

"You were born a boy," her Dad added.

Amanda cursed. Not out loud. Her parents raised her too well. Her worst fear came true. They didn't understand her. Were those narrow-minded people that outright dismissed the idea that transgendered people could exist. She braced for a wave of hate, but it didn't come. In fact, her parents were stuck in a confused state. So much was evident in the look on their faces.

Amanda realized that they didn't get it. That she had to find a way to explain it in a way that they understood it. Looking around, her eyes got caught on all the delivery service memorabilia. It gave her an idea.

"Mom. Dad. It is like this. You see, I have a female soul. And I should have been delivered with a girl's body. But there was a mix up with the delivery of a body and I got the wrong one. One with the wrong gender."

Her parents looked at each other and Amanda could see as understanding blossomed in their mind.

"So the ethereal delivery service made a mistake," her mother exclaimed.

"A transport order must have gone wrong," her father added.

"Now I get it. Transport-Gender. I miss-heard you. Still a strange term."

"Such unprofessionalism. They had sixteen years to fix their mistake."

"We've got to do something. This can't stand. We should complain."

"What is going on?" Amanda asked in confusion. "Complain where exactly?"

"Well, the authorities of course," her Dad explained. "They better fix it as soon as possible."

Amanda was bamboozled. What were they talking about? "I don't think the government can do anything there."

"Not the government, daughter," Amanda's mother chided her. "The ethereal authority. Come on. Get dressed."

Amanda was elated. To hear her mother refer to her as a daughter. It was a dream come true. She was ecstatic and elated that her parents were on her side. Finally, they were on her side. But she was still confused as she was ushered out of the door. Even more so when there was a delivery van parked in their driveway. It wasn't the usual dark brown, but sky blue.

A moment later, they were seated and Amanda's father started the van. Put instead of pulling onto the street, he drove straight on. Amanda was about to scream when the van was sure to hit their neighbor's house when suddenly everything changed.

They were floating among a sea of clouds. When Amanda looked out of the window she saw the landscape pass by miles below.

"Don't worry, sweetie, we are nearly there."

Amanda turned to her mother with a what-the-fuck-is-going-on face when through the windshield she saw the next absurdity. There was a warehouse squarely sitting atop a cloud. Like bees, sky-blue delivery vans flew out of or into the building.

Their van flew through a big garage door and came to a stop in a big loading and unloading bay. Here, they exited the van and made their way on foot. The further they came the more Amanda's jaw threatened to unhinge itself. She was simply speechless. There were stacks of parcels everywhere. But each parcel was also a person. A body. And Amanda could see each stage of their body throughout the time. Baby, kid, teen, adult, and senior. All at once. It gave her a headache.

She was glad when her parents led her into an office area. It was an absolute madhouse with activity, but she still got the impression that everything worked together like a piece of well-oiled machinery. At last, they entered an office with the sign 'customer support' stenciled on the door. Lessening the amount of information that held Amanda in disbelief and confusion.

"What can I do for you?" the clerk asked. Amanda couldn't deceiver the clerk's gender. Male? Female? it was something squarely in the middle. The nameplate wasn't helpful either. What a name was "A-oki"?

"Our daughter here is transport-gender. All because your department messed up a delivery."

"A what?" the clerk asked. Amanda couldn't fault them for their confusion. It was a made-up term by her parents.

"She got the wrong body and gender due to the wrong body being delivered to her. She had to live in the wrong one for sixteen years!"

Amanda felt oddly proud of how fierce her mother was for her cause. She wasn't exactly sure what it would bring, but it was nice.

"Another one?" the clerk asked. "There is now a term for that?"

"It happened before?" Amanda's Dad asked. "Why isn't anyone doing anything about it."

"You see, there are bugs in the ethereal registry. They corrupt information."

"Can't you get a programmer to patch the faulty software?" Amanda wanted to know.

"Oh, no. They're literal bugs. Ethereal beetles. They eat information in the ethereal registry and the recovery process is less than perfect."

"Bugs? I am in the wrong gender because you have bugs?" Anger threatened to overwhelm Amanda. "Just call an exterminator. An ethereal one if it has to be. Just kick them out and fix this!"

"Please," the clerk tried to calm her down. "My hands are tied. The ethereal beetles are endangered. PETA will have our asses if we do something to them."

"Endangered? Are you nuts?" By now Amanda was close to climbing on that clerk's desk and get really personal. "Over one percent worldwide identify as transgender. I think your stupid bugs had their fill."

"What is transgender?" the clerk asked.

Amanda lunged for the clerk's throat but was held back by her mother. Meanwhile, her Dad explained. "Transport-gender. She often makes this mistake and calls it that."

"Well, if your daughter is right, then maybe it is time to look into the matter. Maybe in the last two thousand years, their population indeed has recovered."

"More than that," Amanda spat out. "They have become a menace. Show me how and I'll make sure they are endangered again!"

"Please, no violence," the clerk urged. "I will take it up with my superiors immediately."

"That is good to hear," Amanda's father admitted. "Though I think the ethereal authority owes my daughter an apology. And a new body."

"Damn right, they do," Amanda agreed. Then it dawned on her. "Wait. A new body?"

"Right. Yes." The clerk filled out a form at an amazing speed and handed it over. "This is a voucher for a new body. To be exchanged in department sixty-three. I fear the official apology may take a while."

"That is fine for now," Amanda's mother said while steering her out. "Come on sweetie. Time to get you into a new body."

"Wait, what? For real?" The anger drained away in an instant. Was this possible? Her dream and longing fulfilled in an instant? Despite everything that happened in the last hour it still was an absurd thought.

"Of course," her father assured her. "That's why were are here after all."

Now, giddy excitement started to fill Amanda. She practically dragged her parents forward. Sometimes in the wrong direction as she had no idea where department sixty-three was located. At last, they arrived at a secluded corner of the massive warehouse that had been fenced off.

Her father gave the form to a bored-looking security guard. After verifying it, the guard started to explain.

"This voucher is good for one body exchange. The bodies here are all rejects from the design department. Sometimes they try to design one better than the guidelines allow. Sometimes they even manage to smuggle them through quality control. Those that get caught land here. They are used as spares if one is needed."

Amanda listened only half-heartedly. All her dreams were about to come true. As soon as the gate opened she rushed in. Ready to find her dream body. Yet she was utterly unprepared nonetheless. Hundreds of bodies were stacked as parcels. Each one not only showing a body in Amanda's age but in all ages at once. It took them hours to sift through them.

Deciding on one was hard. Most looked beautiful. Downright gorgeous even. There were other details. Most likely allergies one body would develop and which chronic sickness would one plague in older years. At last, Amanda narrowed it down to one. She wouldn't be the most beautiful girl, but a very healthy one. And remain beautiful and in strong health even to old age.

"This is the one," Amanda proclaimed. "How do I proceed?"

"Just push the parcel into your current body," the guard explained.

As Amanda did, bright light started to envelop her. A moment later, the sound of a parcel hitting the floor made her turn around. There it was. Her male body. Trapped inside a parcel. She could see the last sixteen years of growing up and countless years that might have been her future.

But that was the past. Still, in disbelieve, she patted down her new body. It had worked. She was a girl now. Not just in the soul, but body too. She jumped around in joy. Hugged her parents as tight as she could. Even the guard got a hug. Amanda was brimming with happiness.

The walk back to the delivery van was a blur. She was so ecstatic. Running, jumping, and testing out her new body. Only as she had to settle down in the van Amanda calmed down somewhat. Then she got thoughtful.

"Mom. Dad. How long do you think until they fix the bug problem?"

Her Dad scratched his head. Buying himself some time. "Well, sweetie, the ethereal bureaucracy isn't the fastest."

"Maybe two centuries?" her Mom mused out loud. "One if they expedite."

"That's too long!" Fury returned to Amanda. "We can't leave all those transgender people hanging. Sorry. Transport-gender. Whatever. They are suffering as I did."

"We could hire an ethereal lawyer," Dad mused out loud.

"Those are overworked too," Mom threw in. "Not many chose the career."

Amanda jumped on it like a bird of prey on a small rodent. "Can I become one? An ethereal lawyer! I kick their asses until they fix their mess."

"Do you hear that Darling?" Her father beamed. "She'll follow our footsteps and work for the ethereal authority."

Amanda ignored the proud looks of her parents. One struggle was laying in her past. And she would enjoy her new self. But she already spotted a new struggle ahead. She would fight for everyone out there that was transgender or transport-gender or whatever. The ethereal authority won't know what hit them. Of that, she would make sure.

“Oh come on. You can’t tell me you liked that movie. It was full of inconsistencies. I mean..”

Dean cut off his friend before he made it any worse.
“Don't jinx it, Tim. Don’t you dare mention them.”

“Mention what? The plot-holes?”

Ben facepalmed and Dean rolled his eyes. Together they walked down the sidewalk and Dean took it up to enlighten Tim. “It’s easy. It's reverse attraction. The more you mention them the less likely you notice one in front of you. It’s just common sense to … wahhh”

“Dean? Where are you?” Tim shouted out as he found himself suddenly alone with Ben.

“Great Tim,” Ben remarked with a sigh. “You had to mention them and now Dean fell into one.”

Ben gave him a stern look and then started to walk on. Quickly Tim caught up. “That’s funny. You really think plot-holes are true? Come on. Cut the crap. We aren’t in a movie or book.”

“Really? How would you know?” Ben retorted.

Before Tim could answer both heard a squeal and the sound of high heels coming closer. “Oh my gosh, guys I found you.”

“Miss. I don’t think we know -” Tim started.

“It’s me! Dean,” the girl urged.

“No way. How?” Tim challenged her.

“Because of plot-hole. Duh!”

Tim looked at Ben for help but found his friend ogling the womanly Dean. “Oh yeah, that will do. Time to pay your due Diana,” Ben remarked with a smirk.

“Diana?” Dean asked.

“Remember last summer?” Ben continued. “I lent you five hundred bucks under the condition that if you ever turn into a hot chick that I: A. Can name you and B. get a blowjob.”

“Oh my! You are right,” Diana remarked. “Let’s go.”

Ben let his arm fall on Diana’s shoulder and both started to walk off.

“Dean? You are okay with that!?” Tim was flabbergasted.

“Yes, I am. And it’s Diana. Seriously go with the plot.”

“Seriously? Why?” Tim wanted to know.

Ben and Diana turned around for a moment. “Plot-hole!!” they both yelled.

“Excuse me mister?” an older male voice spoke up.

Tim turned around. Before him stood a construction worker.
“Yes?”

“I am looking for the hole. ‘Am here to fix it.”

Tim sighed. “I swear if you say you want to fix the plot-hole then I’ll … You know what. Forget it. I think it was further up the street.”

“Really? My directions say it is downward,” the worker said. Scratching his beard.

Tim looked around and saw nothing. “I don’t see any hole down the street. There is noth..ahhhh…”

“Ah found it!” the construction worker shouted. “I knew it was downwards in the plot.”

To his left, the shrubbery started to shake and a moment later a teenage girl in shredded clothes appeared.

“What the hell?” she cursed. “Why am I a girl now?”

“I take it you were the boy who just fell down the hole?” the worker inquired.

“I-” The girl started but broke off. “Okay, I believe it now. This is not a prank. Plot-holes are real.”

“Calm down Miss,” the worker urged her. “Look. My name is Arthur. Maybe I can help. What is your name?”

“Tim,” the girl replied.

“Uhh. I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Arthur remarked.

“Do what?” Tim snapped.

“A boys name for a girl. That’s plot-hole bait.”

“Fine!” the girl relented. “Call me Tammy for now. Say. Why the hell genderbends the plot-holes us?”

“That’s probably due to the writer. Let me check,” Arthur said pulled a clipboard out. “Ah yes. Cassy Bee. That explains a lot. Amateur TG writer.”

“Wait,” Tammy said and held her hand up. “Let me think. So these bending of our genders are meant to happen?”

“Probably,” Arthur said with a shrug. “Although I suspect another means of bending your gender was planned.”

“I better hope so,” Tammy remarked. “Using plot-holes as a means to bending genders has to be the worst plot device ever.”

“Unless-” Arthur mused out loud.

“Unless what?” Tammy snapped.

“Unless the story is written on-” Arthur looked on his clipboard again. “Knew it. Sorry, kiddo. Looks like your story is part of an April's fool joke. Written on April the first.”

“Damn!” Tammy cursed. “How bad is it really?”

“Very. Cassy Bee is an amateur. Not the best track record of finished stories either,” Arthur remarked. “Unless she picks up the story again next year for April fools I think we are done.”

“No. Can’t be,” Tammy denied it. “You can’t tell me the story will just end suddenly and without reason.”

Kristine was all smiles as the Millers exited their car. "Welcome to Groves Manor. I am the owner, Kristine."

"I am Laura," said the refined woman. "And I am the owner of her." Putting a hand on her husband's shoulder.

Kristine frowned a bit. Submissive men were hard to work with. Sadly most clients brought exactly those. "You did read the rules, right? No dom and sub stuff in the manor. Pretend you are a happily married couple."

"We are," Laura assured her.

"Just checking if you know the rules. I assume he normally wears a chastity cage. If so you should remove it now. Mabel doesn't like them."

"Mabel?"

"The ghost of the manor," Kristine clarified.

"Normally SHE does, but I removed it. Not that it serves a purpose anymore besides reminding her who owns her. But I did read the rules. So it is really true? The manor is haunted?"

Kristine had to stifle a sigh. Tons of documented changes and witnesses. Still, they always asked. "Yes, it is. Believe me, I can attest to it." She pulled a high gloss portrait out of an older teenage boy. He was kinda good looking. Already plenty of manly. "This picture of me was taken shortly before I inherited Groves Manor," she lied. She never had been a teenage boy or owned a manor. All a marketing lie by the company she worked for.

Kristine cupped her double D breasts to emphasize. "I still wake up sometimes and feel strange stuck with these to my chest. Now you know that I can't guarantee a change, right? It all depends on Mabel - the ghost - and her whims. Typically only every fifth couple leaves the manor with their hidden wish fulfilled. There are other haunted houses with higher chances."

"Oh, we know," Laura assured her. "We come here because Groves Manor has a reputation to create ..."

"Big breasted, small waisted, and big-bottomed women?" Kristine helpfully offered. "Basically walking sex on a stick."

"Yes. Exactly. I just didn't mean to be so crass about it. I hope you aren't offended."

Kristine knew exactly how she looked. Grown up with it. Still, she had a role to play. "I don't mind. Not anymore. It took a while to get used to it, but now I am happy." The lies came smoothly over her lips. She had told them so many times. Sure enough the ghost - Mabel - could transform men into women, but headquarters wanted someone to represent the best possible outcome. So they hired Kristine.

"That is good to hear. Well, fingers crossed the same goes for my hubby."

"I am sure it will work out fine. I have a good feeling this time," Kristine added. "Let's get you situated. Please follow me." With a bright smile, she led the couple inside the manor.

*****

Two days later Kristine was out at the front of the manor. The Millers were just done loading their luggage into their convertible. "I am so sorry it hadn't worked out for you."

"Well, you did warn us that it was a low chance. There are other haunted houses we can try."

Kristine waited till the pleasantries ended and the Millers drove off. The moment the car was out of sight the friendly smile vanished from her face. With angry steps, she made her way over to the manor. As soon as she was past the heavy wooden double door she filled her lungs with air. "MABEL! Get your lazy ghostly fat ass down here! Right! Now!"

Kristine didn't have to wait long. She saw an ethereal shimmer to her left that slowly took the shape of a buxom woman. Her dress always reminded Kristine of those Can Can dancers from old wild west movies. All tits on display and such. For all she knew, Mabel was wearing such dress. The ghost was old enough for it.

"What got your knickers in a bunch?" the ghost asked in a sultry voice.

Kristine was close to exploding. The little undead whore knew exactly what was up. "That was the tenth couple that left as they came. Every fifth couple Mabel. We had a deal. Headquarters is pissed and so am I."

Now the serene calmness left the undead specter too. "Yes, we had a deal. Every fifth couple I transform a man into a woman. A man!"

"There were plenty of men," Kristine objected.

"Those? Men? Don't make me laugh. Have you seen the pathetic worms between their legs? They couldn't get a hard-on if the world depended on it! They promised me men. Manly men who drip testosterone. Hunks were I have muscles to rend and transform into ditzy little sluts. I had enough!"

Kristine fumed. She knew Mabel had a point and it made her loose ground. Still, she had to do something to keep the ghost under check. Besides playing the owner of the manor it was her job to keep Mabel on track.

"I told you before. Those men are rare to voluntarily give up their manhood. Not many of those dream of a slutty female body. It's the opposite of what they want. Headquarters hands those out as a bonus to those ghosts who do a good job. Guess who hasn't been one."

"Oh, this is bullshit. Volunteers? Ha! They take all the fun away. Just lure some ..."

"No," Kristine cut her off. "That might have worked a century ago. Today you get sued your ass off."

"Let them try. I don't have money anyway," the ghost countered.

"Well, headquarters has. And guess what. If they are successful what chances are they hire an exorcist?"

Mabel shut up for a second and started to pace the room. Walking in turn through tables or pottery. Kristine hated when she did that. "Well, what will it be? Make some Sissies into women or get evicted to the afterlife?"

"An ultimatum?" Mabel shouted. In a split second gone from nervous to batshit crazy and enraged. "How about I give you an ultimatum! If you like Sissies so much try being one!"

Kristine gasped as she suddenly felt a strange sensation in her crotch. Fearing the worst she pulled down her skirts and panties. She screamed in horror as she saw a pathetic dick and raisin sized balls where her pussy had been.

"Undo. This. Right. Now!" Kristine shouted back at Mabel.

"Sure," Mabel said with a nasty grin. "You'll be the first Sissy I'll transform. Right after headquarters send me a manly man to rent down. Better make that work little Sissy."

Kristine fumed as she saw Mabel fade away. Oh, she would inform headquarters and her recommendation would be to exorcize that lazy ass skank of a ghost. With angry steps, she left the manor.

*****

Even the best makeup couldn't hide the fact that Kristine had cried a lot. Her eyes were still painfully puffy as she entered the manor the next day.

She didn't have to wait long till Mabel made herself be heard. "I am disappointed Kristine. No manly man with you. All you bring me is another Sissy. This time yourself."

The giggling ghost appeared close to Kristine. Now she didn't feel like crying anymore. No. Her blood was boiling. If she could she would strangle that stupid bitch. "No. More. Men. Ever!" Kristine pressed out through her teeth.

"What do you mean no more men? We had a deal!"

Kristine shook her head. "Had. You bimbo of a ghost don't get it. Do you? This..." She dropped her pants to expose the tiny pecker between her legs. " ... changes everything. No more men ever again. Zero. Nada. Zilch."

"Geez, you need to work on your negotiating skill Kristine. You ..."

"No! You need to listen up," Kristine interrupted Mabel. "Let me push some facts into this little head full of air you claim is yours. Headquarters has over a dozen ghosts under contract that can turn a man into a woman. Do you know how many they have that can turn a woman into a Sissy? None. At least till you gave me this!" Pointing again to the sad excuse of a dick between her legs. "Now they want to rebrand this whole damn manor to fit this transformation and I am stuck with that thing."

"Oh come on," Mabel laughed. "You really believe I would buy that crap? You don't like this small dick. So do I. Let me show you one fit for a man."

To Kristine's horror, she felt her dick grow. Soon a few inch hung below her with balls to match. She looked up at Mabel and saw red. With a furious howl, she jumped at Mabel. To her surprise, her hands actually got a grip on the ghost's neck. Her anger fueled her strength and she pushed Mabel back inch by inch.

"You insane whore. Do you have any idea what you have done? You made it worse. Hundred times worse!"

Kristine slammed the specter against a wall. Her hands squeezing harder and harder. To her disgust, she saw Mabel part her skirts and her hands rubbing her nether lips.

"You are getting off of this?" Kristine howled. "You are sick. Fine! You want a dick? Have some!" She didn't know what came over her, but a moment later she had buried her newly grown dick balls deep in the ghost. With abandon, she rammed her dick in and out of the ghost. All the while cursing her and calling her the dirtiest synonyms for whore she knew and some she didn't.

With a groan, Kristine came and slowly her anger drained away. She let go of the ghost and Mabel dropped to the floor. Unmoving. Only as Kristine's breathing returned to normal she registered the slumped-down ghost.

"Mabel?" Crouching down she tried to shake the specter, but this time her hand passed through the ethereal body. "Great. Now I killed the ghost I am hired to handle."

"You didn't," Mabel said while slowly stirring. One of her hand reached up and massaged her throat. "Well, you did, but not really. I am already dead after all."

Relieved Kristine took a few steps back, but after her shock subsided her anger returned. "What was that? Why did I ... I mean I was choking you. I thought that was impossible."

"A death flashback," Mabel explained while slowly standing up. "Gives a good orgasm, but afterward my throat hurts and I get a headache."

"Death flashback?"

"Yes. You see this is how I died. Here at the same spot against the wall."

"Choked to death?" Kristine asked. "But why did I ..."

"Fuck me? You see I wasn't murdered. It was a sex fantasy gone wrong. I asked the owner of the mansion to choke me while having sex. He got a little overboard and now I am a ghost."

"Just like that? Jesus Mabel. But why now? Why was I involved in your ... What did you call it? Death flashback?"

"Oh, not just you. Anyone with a big dick can trigger one. Others did before you."

"Wait a moment," Kristine said while her brain put the puzzle pieces together. "You wanted this to happen. Your insistence for manly man to be sent here. You wanted one to trigger this flashback."

"Well yeah. Hadn't had a good lay in a while."

"Fuck you Mabel!"

"Again? Sorry, but can we do it later? I have a headache."

Once again Kristine saw red and tried to punch Mabel. Only to stumble through her.

"Hey now. Don't be mad. As long as you have that dick we can fuck again. And if you want I can make you a whole woman again."

"No, you can't. Not yet," Kristine pressed out through clenched teeth. After taking a moment to calm down she continued. "You fucked up. Big time. Again!"

"What? How?"

"Okay. Let me try to explain it in a way that this bimbo brain of yours can understand it."

"Can we keep the name calling reserved for when we have sex?"

Kristine glared at her and continued. "Listen up. Headquarters has over a dozen ghosts under contract who can do male to female transformations. Those can not just satisfy the demand. They surpass it. That was the reason why you only had to transform every fifth man. The four other simply pay again to try with another ghost. You with me so far?"

Mabel nodded and Kristine took a deep breath. "Now female to Sissy transformation. There the demand is low. Do you know how many ghosts can do that? None! Till you proofed otherwise and now headquarters wants to milk that untapped market. They want to rebrand this whole mansion and you. Probably some remodeling and some thinly veiled name that hints of what is supposed here to happen. And that one-in-fifth rule. Forget about that one. You'll probably have to transform one or two. Per day."

"Shit," Mabel commented as she finally got it.

"You think that is bad? What do you think headquarters will do once they hear you can make shemales? The market for women to Sissies is kind of small. The market for full-fledged shemales with a working dick? Freaking fucking huge. They probably build two more wings for the manor just to cram in more customers and you got to work all day without a break."

Kristine couldn't really tell, but she thought Mabel looked pale. Which was a hard thing to do, as she was a ghost and already very pale.

"No way," Mabel finally muttered. "I won't do it. Too many dicks. Not again. There was a time when it was known around town that if you had a big dick you could fuck a ghost. Me! Fifty times a day! At least. That's the whole reason I learned to change men into women. Tell headquarters our deal is off."

"I would if I could," Kristine truthfully admitted. "But neither of us have a choice. Come. I have to show you something."

Kristine walked to the main hallway of the manor and stopped in front of a wall. "Tell me what is in this wall Mabel."

"Behind this wall is the kitchen. What's your point?"

"In the wall Mabel! In it!"

"Dust and cobwebs?"

"It's your corpse you dimwit. The place where your murderer - No wait. Your fucking lover. - dumped your sorry ass to get rid of the evidence."

"It's actually three feet to the left."

"Who cares?" Kristine shouted at the ghost. "They know where your corpse is. Forget exorcism. Headquarters told me they had their hands on a hoodoo or voodoo or whatever priest. He comes over and will put his hand so far up your mummified ass that you will be their lobotomized sock-puppet."

"Fuck me," Mabel softly cursed as realization dawn inside of her.

"Not right now Mabel. Geez. You really are a slut."

"No. I mean. Shit! What do we do?"

"What we will do? Damn you are an idiot. Here is what we have to do. First, you will shrink that thing between my leg to the pathetic size it was before."

"I still could make you a woman again," Mabel offered as a peace offering.

"Not yet. See you fucked me over too. I signed a contract - among other things - to act as a would-be victim of yours. Well, now I am a real victim of yours. Since headquarters wants you to produce Sissies now I have to be a representative of the intended result. Which means I have to walk around as a Sissy. Thank you very much for that Mabel."

"Sorry," Mabel meekly volunteered.

"Sorry? SORRY? You better be sorry and from now on you do exactly what I say before you fuck this even more up. Now shrink my dick."

"Do I have to? It had just the perfect size."

Sighing Kristine pondered the question. "Yes. Yes, you do. Tell you what. If you are a good ghost and sissify all - and I mean all - intended customers then afterward you can grow this dick back and we fuck. Deal?"

Mabel gave a big pout but caved a moment later. "Fine. Deal."

A moment later Kristine felt her dick and balls shrivel to a pathetic size once more. "Good. Now headquarters might need a few days to set up the change. Then they probably send some workers by to overhaul and redecorate the manor. Don't change any of them. I mean it Mabel."

"Do I get a reward if I don't," Mabel asked with a glint in her eyes.

"Fine. I'll fuck you in the evenings if you behave. Damn you really are a slut. I need to go now and talk more with headquarters about the remodeling. Meanwhile, don't fuck this up Mabel. More than you already did."

"How can I fuck it up if no one is around?"

Kristine just rolled her eyes and marched out of the manor without another word.

*****

It was late when Kristine finally ended the Skype call to headquarters. With a sigh, she stood up from her kitchen table and walked to her bedroom. Mentally still cursing Mabel she was happy that she had an apartment in town. Far away from the cursed manor.

A nice hot shower is what she needed right now. Stripping out of her clothes she noticed a small wet spot in her panties. Pre-cum she reasoned. From that pathetic small noodle between her legs. Probably from the many times her mind had wandered back to when she had fucked Mabel.

"She really fucked my life over," Kristine muttered to herself. "I just can't wait to choke the undead life out of her again." Silently deep within her mind, a small voice whispered:" And to bury my dick in her snatch again."

The end.

*****

Dear reader,

CassyBee here. I hope you liked this somewhat different take on sissification. Please let me know by leaving a review or comment. While at it please tell me if you would like to read more stories about this water and oil duo and their would be voluntary and involuntary customers. I know that Kristine wasn't a true Sissy yet. Much of the mental components missing. Maybe with a bit of training, Mabel gets that done in future customers/victims.

Till next time.
Byeee.