Big Top
A Mercynaries Story from SinComics.com
Bradley kicked a stone as he shuffled down the dirt road. It had been a depressing summer for him. His hopes of being the next big thing in the digital world ended as the last of his savings dried up. He'd spent everything hiring the engineers to work on his databases, so when the time came to create the actual app, he was dry. Even if he could get some friends to help out or a programmer willing to defer payments until the app was released, he'd never be able to afford the marketing and support needed to reach enough people to make it profitable. The last few weeks were spent in a futile attempt to get some investors or venture capital that never materialized. Today marked the end of the project. He paid off the final contractors, talked to the manager he was leasing the office space from, and pulled the final plugs.
As Bradley started up the hill, he heard faint music. This area was nothing but farm land and farmers weren't the type to be out partying past sundown. At least he thought so. Bradley had no idea what the growing seasons were, but some general knowledge of farmers said they went to bed early. He listened in as he crested the hill, only to see an explosion of lights and colors in the fields. It was the fair! He'd been so wrapped up in his project for the past months that he forgot about the county fair. There had been a blurb on some local news sites about the county talking with a new distributor this year, but Bradley had passed that over as he scrolled to the business sections.
The cacophony of the circus filled Bradley with a warm sense of nostalgia as he looked down on the event. The county fair had been a part of every person's childhood in his town. It was exactly what he needed to close the book on this chapter of his life. Some fun and games or ungodly fried food to shut out the bad feelings before he got home to start sending out resumes. A quick pat of his pockets proved to be a reality check. At best, he had a quarter to his name, so forget the food and games, he'd never even be able to get into the place. As Bradley started to slink away, some old memories started to trickle up. It wasn't just going to the fair as a kid, there was a certain competition in his circle of friends where the only thing better than going was going for free. They had laughed and bragged about how many rides they could sneak onto, groups they could hide themselves in, or games they could play with found tokens. And it all started with the most important part of the ritual: getting in for free.
Bradley circled around the perimeter for the farm and it was exactly as he remembered it. They were smart enough to have a tall outer fence to keep freeloaders out, but they never trimmed back the trees that rose above it. Bradley found his footing as he slowly clambered up the branches. It had seemed a lot easier as a kid. When he was finally high enough to get over the fence, he moved out over the fence and dropped back to the ground. He landed with a thud on the hard-packed dirt. Definitely easier as a kid. Thankfully, the second part of the fence was easier. The farmers never came out this far on the property to mend the fences and fair organizers never paid enough attention to the rotting posts in the back corners. Bradley peeled one back and squeezed through the best he could before the post wouldn't bend any more and he was wedged into the makeshift entrance. There was no going back and over the outer fence, so he slammed the rotten post with his hand and it broke free with a loud snap, sending Bradley tumbling back to the ground as he popped through the hole.
"Hey! Who's there!?"
Bradley's heart sunk as he heard the shout come from behind the tent. He scrambled up as fast as he could, but the flap opened and out stepped a woman with a giant wooden mallet.
"What are you doing?!"
Bradley stammered and looked for a place to bolt to, but he was stuck between the fence and the tent. His eyes shot to the weapon in her hand and she looked back down at it.
"Calm down, this is just for the Whack-A... Wait, yeah! I'll totally hit you with this! You, uh, better come with me!"
The petite blonde woman threateningly waved her comical mallet at Bradley but then leaned in and grabbed him by the ear. Between yelps of pain of being dragged through the grounds, Bradley rambled and failed to convince the woman that this was all a misunderstanding.
Bradley was forced into a chair in a dark room. Suddenly, a flash of bright light burst on and stayed pointed at his face. He recoiled but he was being held down and couldn't escape. A figure moved between him and the light but it was so bright he couldn't make out any details. Bradley leaned forward as far as he could and passionately gestured at the figure.
"I-I'm really sorry! I know it was dumb. And wrong! And I totally shouldn't have tried to sneak in. I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please don't call the cops!"
The figure chuckled and made a motion to the blonde holding Bradley's shoulder. The spotlight dimmed a little and he could finally see the woman he was presented to. She was tall and lithe, but held herself with a no-nonsense air. Her outfit was that of a ringmaster's with a long red overcoat, white dress shirt, pink bow tie, tight black pants, and thigh high boots. She leaned in close to look Bradley over and he stared into her intense, deep eyes.
"Don't worry on that front. The Circus and the Law have never seen eye-to-eye over our histories."
Bradley sighed deeply and slumped back in relief.
"That's why we've always taken care of issues ourselves," she grinned. He immediately went rigid in his chair.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry. I've just... I've been a fan of the summer fairs and circuses here since I was a kid. I'm in kind of a rough patch and I thought this would be some fun and... I'd offer to pay, but I don't have any money."
The ringmaster chuckled again and leaned back on her heels. "A patron of the arts, but a poor one. I can't just let you go, that would set a bad example. But what to do with you..."
"H-How about I work it off! Surely you need somebody on the business side. I can help clean up, then at the end of the night, help you file everything, and fill out whatever forms you have. Nobody likes forms, right?"
She smiled and pat him on the head. "No, I've been doing all that for years, it's second nature. But you could help me out there on the grounds. My crew could keep an eye on you out there and keep you on the straight and narrow. We wouldn't want another... lapse in judgement."
Bradley shrank back in the seat. "Could we not? I'm going to have to start looking for a job soon and interviewing and... If anybody out there recognizes me, this could make things a lot harder..."
The ringmaster twirled around and sauntered over to some cabinets. She pulled out a large kit and a handful of brushes. "You leave that to me, love."
Bradley sat frozen in the seat and the woman lathered layer after layer of paint and makeup onto him. She spread a cool, white goop over his face, leaving no space untouched. Once satisfied he was thoroughly encased, she dug out a few colored jars from her kit and reached for a large brush. The brush was coated with a bright purple dust and she turned back to Bradley. "Close your eyes, dear. You don't want any of this in the wrong places." Bradley dutifully clamped them shut and she went to work dabbing and painting him once more.
When she stepped back to look him over, Bradley spoke from the corner of his mouth. "All done?"
She chuckled and pulled out a case and thick red pen. "See, you already have the sense of humor for this."
She resumed her task and started drawing and coloring around his mouth. Bradley could taste it on his lips as he tried to clear the makeup from his mouth. It had an unnaturally sweet taste, but with a citric, almost acidic bite that left his face and lips tingling.
Finally content with her artistic skills, the ringmaster shuffled through some boxes stored on top of the cabinets. She clucked her tongue as she pushed several back aside but let out a gasp of happiness when she pulled out a giant red puff from one. She slipped behind Bradley and he could then feel a tacky liquid around his scalp.
"Just a hint of wig glue to keep everything in place."
"Glue? Wigs!? Lady, you have to-"
The ringmaster cut him off short and spun his chair to face the mirror. Gawking back at him was a painted visage of a clown. His skin was all white, save for the neon purple eyeshadow, giant red lips, and two bright pink hearts on his cheeks. She came down with the finale and plopped a red wig onto his head and puffed and styled it into place. It looked more like a beehive now and Bradley could feel it wobbling over him as he leaned in.
The ringmaster patted him hard on the shoulder. "Still got it! Well I haven't done this in ages. It's been so long since we had just a clown. And you don't have to worry about anybody recognizing you. Now, for the costume."
Bradley went to speak, but a sharp glare from her black eyes cowered him.
"I will not have a clown that looks like it works at a bank."
He dejectedly nodded and followed her pointing finger behind a screen.
Bradley hung up his jacket, shirt, and slacks as the ringmaster dug around racks of clothes and opened and closed closets around the tent. He finally heard a happy little clap and soon a bundle of clothing was tossed up onto the screen. Rather than waste his breath protesting, Bradley slipped his arms through the costume and wrapped it around himself. The costume was a monstrosity of ribbons and frills, ruffling and shaking with every slight movement he made. Giant, puffy shoulders breezed in and out of the corners of his eyes as he struggle to smooth out and press down the bouncing outfit. As he got it under some semblance of control, two white gloves and striped tights were slung over to him and Bradley obligingly suited up.
"And the final piece!" The ringmaster came behind the screen and motioned for Bradley to sit. She shoved on a pair of bright red platform shoes and latched them closed just under his knees.
"I can barely walk!" Bradley protested.
"It will help you stay in character! Clowns aren't graceful, they're bumbling and funny and wander all over." She spun him around and zipped the outfit closed with the thick metal slider hidden among the frills.
"Now, head over to the arcade. Grace can use your help running the games. And make sure you delight any guests you see on the way over."
Bradley grumbled in agreement and wobbled over towards the exit.
"And, dear, be good. We'll have our eyes on you."
Once he was out of the tent, Bradley searched around and when the coast was clear, he furiously searched through the ruffles for the zipper pull trapping him in this horror. He moved his fingers up and down and back and forth through the frills couldn't track the zipper or find where it started. Unable to find anything to grasp onto, Bradley yanked and pulled at the costume but it wouldn't give. Resigned, he headed over to the arcade.
Along the way, people clapped and laughed as he walked by. Bradley tried to speed up, but that only made him wobble in the boots and the costume to bounce around more. The only thing hiding his bright red, embarrassed face from the cameras was the layers of makeup he was caked in.
When Bradley finally made his way over the alley, he saw the blonde woman leaning against a booth. She perked up and smoothed out her vest when she caught sight of him.
"Well, it's the thief!"
Bradley scowled. "I'm not a thief."
The petite woman laughed and gently punched him in the shoulder. "Ah, I'm just messing with you. C'mon, the boss says you're going to help me out!" She waved Bradley over behind the curtain.
He looked around at the bare, wooden guts propping up the booth's front and the rows of stuffed animals and prizes. "What do you need me to do, ma'am?"
"It's Grace, love. Oooh, we need to think of a fun clown name for you! Howzabout... Handsy! Because you tried to steal."
Bradley glared at her, but she either couldn't see it past the makeup or she just didn't care.
"Climb on in. I need you to run the game while I'm up front."
Grace pulled back a lower curtain and pointed Bradley to a wooden tunnel leading up to the front of the game.
"When you get through, we'll move to the next step. And watch the hair, dear!"
Bradley got down on his knees and crawled through the curtain. It was a short journey, but he made slow progress and frequently had to tug at his costume to un-wedge it. At the end of the track, there was a circular hole. Bradley lifted it up and looked through.
"Grace?"
All he could see was the darkened booth hidden behind a curtain. He felt something soft press against his neck and he pulled back in reflex. Instead of moving back, Bradley just stretched his neck and stayed in place. From behind the hole, his hands searched around and grasped at the padding that was now holding his head in place. He fidgeted and squirmed but couldn't move the padding back to its previous position.
Suddenly, music started playing from the tent and he could just barely make out Grace's voice shouting to the crowds. The curtains were yanked to the side and Bradley was staring out at a line of kids holding water guns aimed at his end of the booth. He looked to the side in a panic and saw several plastic clown heads with open mouths and balloons over them. The crowd laughed and pointed, but when a bell rang, the laughter changed to cheers as the water guns squirted to life and the fair-goers commenced the game. Bradley squinted against the errant splashes of water. As it ran down the back of the booth, Bradley could see it wasn't actually water. It was some kind of blue goo... He peered at but was shaken back to reality when he received a face full of the goop. Bradley stared down the booth to see a laughing little girl with her water gun pointed directly towards his face. She giggled as the gun shook again and another stream of the blue liquid went directly into his mouth. Bradley sputtered but another stream hit him again. It continued to flow and Bradley was stuck spitting it out when he could but gulping it down to grab breaths between the shots. He could just barely make out the cheers from the crowd over the sprays of water, the looping music, and Grace's shouts of encouragement.
Bradley struggled against his position in the booth as he continued to swallow the liquid forced down his mouth. It felt like the booth was shrinking behind him. He shook his backside as the tunnel pressed against his hips and legs. The game seemed to continue for an eternity as the crowd happily filled him with the goop. Bradley's stomach churned and he was sure there was no way he could swallow any more, but he continued to guzzle it down. Finally, Bradley heard a loud pop off to his side and a bell rang above him. The crown cheered and Bradley gasped as the stream finally fizzled out. Grace walked back, grabbed a stuffed bear from off to the side, and presented it to a cheering young boy at one of the guns.
With the crowd dispersed, Grace closed the curtain and walked back to the groggy and wet clown. She kicked the back wall and the piece around Bradley's neck slid back into place and the door swung open to free him.
Bradly sputtered and rubbed his face. "What was- That stuff- Why..."
Grace started to clean up and reset the game. "Don't worry about that. Real water doesn't really show up well at the distance or have a satisfying splash. The balloon burst looks way better when this stuff splats!" She tossed him a towel and took out another one to wipe down the backboard. "It's natural stuff, so you're good. I tried it once. Kinda tastes like strawberries, amirite?!"
Bradley whimpered into the towel and wiped his face clean. Grace helped him to his wobbly feet but clucked her tongue. "You... are not cut out for this work if you're that fidgety and shaken up after just one round. Look, I won't tell the boss, but you have to go help somebody else. I'll call ahead to Serena and she'll put you to use." She slapped him on the back, pointed towards the tents in the distance, and shoved him on his way.
The walk over was even more uncomfortable. Bradley felt like his costume had shrunk and was clinging to him tightly after getting wet. The outfit seemed to jiggle and shake even more and the ruffles and fringe never stopped bouncing. He pulled at the costume but still couldn't find the zipper or get a good hold to tear it. As he patted himself down, Bradley realized why the damned thing was so unwieldy, it must have had some kind of padding to it.
He passed through the crowds and stopped to catch his breath outside a tent advertising itself as a hall of mirrors. Save for a few thin streaks, the water from the game had washed away most of his face paint. The white foundation and the pink hearts were all but gone, while the purple eye shadow and lipstick remained. Bradly scoured his face with his arm, but while the last of the white paint rubbed off, the makeup remained. He leaned in closer to the mirror, but somebody grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
"You must be the new helper! Come on, come on, the show is about to start!" A woman with stunningly long black hair pulled at Bradley and gestured him towards a tent lit up with sparkling lights. She wore a costume right out of a cartoon with a tight unitard, tuxedo jacket, long white silk gloves, and a top hat cocked on the side of her head. "I'm Serena!"
The magician pulled Bradley onto stage and he was shocked to see a crowd already seated and waiting. He went rigid and tried to back away but Serena grabbed him around the waist, pulled him in close, and whispered, "Just follow me. I'll do all the work."
She then spun him around and motioned to the crowd. "My lovely assistant!"
Laughs went up from the audience and Bradley was mortified. Serena soon returned to center stage carting out what appeared to be a closet on wheels. She popped the door open and motioned for Bradley to step inside. He cautiously approached it, looking over the walls, when Serena bumped him with her hips, sending him flopping into the box to the laughter of the crowd. Bradley barely had time to spin around when she slammed the door shut and he heard a click. There was barely any room to move but he tried pushing on the door with his shoulder and knees but it was locked shut.
The box was pitch black and Bradley could just barely make out the laughter of the crowd and some whoops from the audience. Something brushed against his cheek and Bradley panicked, shaking. He felt like a fool when he realized it was just the puffy shoulder of his costume. His sigh of relief was cut short when it brushed against him again, but harder, like it was pushing against him now. He moved his head back what little he could but the costume quickly took up the space and started to push back. Bradly shouted but it couldn't be heard outside the box.
The puffs filled the top of the box and prevented him from moving his head. He struggled and fidgeted but soon felt a tightness around his chest and a force pushed him against the back of the box. It grew tighter and Bradly had trouble breathing. He muttered in disbelief and denial as he soon felt the pressure around his hips as well. He was pinned inside the box and the things around him continued to inflate.
Suddenly, the door swung open and Bradley was bounced out of the box. The inflated outfit around him bounced and jiggled, giving him the appearance of having an enormous and cartoonish hourglass figure. Cheers erupted from the audience and wolf whistles rang through the tent as he struggled to control the outfit. Bradley could just barely see around the balloons on his shoulders and over the ones on his chest as Serena reached into her hat and pulled out a pin that glinted under the spotlight.
Bradley couldn't manage more than a waddling shuffle with the weight around him and barely made it a few paces before Serena slid over and stuck the pin in his inflated backside. The costume burst with a rush of air and a loose draping skirt fluttered down around his hips. He stared in disbelief at the rounded, plump curves that now made up his lower half.
A swell of applause rose from the crowd once more and Serena deftly popped each inflated section of the outfit, revealing a spangly, shimmering dress underneath. Serena teased the audience, leaving the giant balloons on his chest for last and even stuck the pin into his wig before them. It burst out and wavy red hair curled down from his head until it bobbed and rested on his shoulders. With one final dramatic flourish and calls not to from the audience, she burst the beach balls on Bradley's chest to reveal two perky globes nestled in a shimmering bodice. The audience went wild with whistles and cheers. Serena took her bow, motioned to Bradley for another round of hoots and hollers, and thanked the audience before shuffling her assistant off stage.
Serena wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and settled as the curtain dropped.
"Whew! Rowdy crowd tonight, eh?" Bradley couldn't say anything in return. He looked down at himself and threw his hands over his feminine curves. Serena grinned and rubbed his back.
"You did great! What do you say, one more show?"
This was enough to snap Bradley back to his shattered reality. He shoved her aside and practically fell over himself as he ran to the exit. He skidded as his new heels hit the mat out front and he had to grab onto a pole to steady himself. The sudden motion attracted the attention of the passing customers and phones rose into the air and camera flashes sparkled around him. Bradley angrily tried to wave them off before realizing that the only thing he could do was try to escape and get away from everybody.
He stumbled and wobbled his way around the tents, ducking away whenever he saw a crowd look his way. One group was coming up from the side while another was attracted by the commotion of Bradley's panicked run. He had nowhere to go but to fall through the flap on the tent behind him. He stumbled into the tent, his heels clacking on the now hard surface, and he looked around the dim space.
The tent was calm. The lighting was subdued and the only decorations were some shimmering drapes and fake candle lights flickering around the area he was on. Bradley looked around and realized the tent contained a stage. He moved towards the stairs but heard the faint sound of music coming from above and it stopped him in his tracks. The tent flaps opened and two lines of people started to walk in and take seats in the audience. Bradley's heart raced but when he heard the music again, he felt relaxed. So relaxed that he couldn't help but sway his hips to the song.
Bradley closed his eyes and moved to the beat of the music. Dancing gracefully across the stage, he moved to one of the silk drapes and plucked it from the wall. He wrapped it around his arm and twirled, never stopping his hips from swaying side to side. He leapt into the air, the silk fluttering gracefully down and around him before spinning again and wrapping himself in.
He was lost in the music, alone in his mind and completely oblivious to the audience paying rapt attention. Bradley was never one for crowds or dancing or gymnastics, but everything about the moment just felt right. He lost track of time and could have been dancing for hours or just minutes but didn't know or care.
The music eventually stopped and Bradley became aware of himself again. He was on his knees, bowing to the audience, panting slightly, and he could feel the heft of his new shape once more. The audience was on its feet, clapping and whistling, but it felt different than at Serena's show. Bradley felt their respect this time. The crowd calmly filed out and the lights dimmed once more. He picked himself up and placed the silk back on the wall before noticing a woman still standing in the crowd. She clapped softly and started towards him.
"Wonderful, love!"
Bradley backed away from the ringmaster. Had she been there the whole time... She strode quickly to his side but so gracefully that he hardly saw her move.
"That was a beautiful dance, dear."
He wasn't sure how to respond, so he just gently nodded. The ringmaster slipped arm behind Bradley and pulled him in.
"This could be a new field of work for you. You're quite good at it. Let's talk in your trailer."
The ringmaster gently led Bradley down the stairs and out of the tent. They passed a sign announcing that the Divine Brandy's show was closed for the night and headed for the row of living quarters at the back of the circus.
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Do No Pharm
A Mercynaries Story from SinComics.com
Nate aimlessly shoved his mouse around as he read yet another rejection from his sorry excuse for an agent. It was the third one this month and being told that he had real talent and that the company was just waiting for the right place to display it had grown old. What was the point of a theater degree if several years out of school the best gig he ever got was for a shampoo commercial? He leaned back in his chair and groaned. He couldn't decide if it helped or hurt that the studio actually sent notes for why they passed him over. "Too meek for a leading man" was the big one at the top of the scanned filed. If he tried out for football, was that the way to get an acting job!? Nate glared over at the mirror and saw his reflection glaring back. Sure he was on the short side and sure he was slim and his blonde hair was feathered, but "meek"? He preferred to think "lithe" or "a dancer's body". Exactly the kind of handsome guy that should be on TV. If it wasn't for his roommate having a spare bed in his apartment... The sound of the door senor jingling out in the hallway made him startle. Speak of the devil.
Sal, the real owner of the apartment, came bustling in with a bag of groceries. "Hey, Nate, did you hear-", then Sal looked at his friend's face. "Another one?"
Nate nodded and reached out to help with the bag. Before he could grab it, a sweet voice rang out from the doorway. "Oh, Honey! Come here!" Tamara, Sal's girlfriend, threw her arms around Nate's neck and gave him a peck on the cheek.
Nate hugged back and set her down. "Thanks, Tams." Tamara was great, Nate's favorite of Sal's girlfriends over the years. He'd dated around after college, but once he met her, Sal was set straight and buckled down. It didn't hurt that instead of bringing girlfriends back to the apartment, Sal would go to Tamara's house instead, so Nate frequently had the apartment to himself on the weekends. A few too many lonely weekends for his taste, but the quiet was nice even if it meant he couldn't find a date.
Sal lugged the groceries into the kitchen and Nate could hear the two mumbling about something as they put the things away. He shuffled over to the couch and idly picked up a magazine until the pair returned. When they did, Sal was nervously looking everywhere but at Nate and after several moments, Tamara elbowed her boyfriend in the side. Sal grunted and addressed his friend. "So, Nate... Tams... she..."
Tamara dramatically sighed and threw up a hand. "Nate, honey, I have a job offer for you."
"Tamara, no. I mean, thanks, but I don't want handouts. If you guys need me to help out more on rent, I can find a part-time job and-"
Sal frantically waved his hands. "No, no! That's not it at all. Tams, she... Just hear her out."
Tamara strode over to the couch and patted a seat for Nate to sit down next to her. "Now, Nate, you know my family..." Nate shot a nervous look over at his roommate. He didn't know much about her outside of them hanging out as a group. She saw the confusion in his eyes and gave him a pitying smile. "Nate, you're sweet and innocent. Tamara Grinmar. Grinmar? Of Grinmar Pha-"
"Of Grinmar Pharmaceuticals! Wait, you mean your family owns them? They're like the largest company in the country. I didn't know you-"
Tamara smiled and cocked her head. "Largest in all of North America, but that's beside the point."
Nate slapped his forehead. "I never put that together. I mean... Ugh. No wonder your house is so nice!"
Tamara giggled and put a hand on Nate's and looked him square in the face. "That's me. But like Sal said, I have a... job offer for you. It's odd, but I need you to hear me out. All the way!"
Nate nodded slowly. "Sure, but I don't see what's so..." He looked over at his friend, but Sal just sighed and slowly shook his head.
"As I'm guessing you didn't pay attention to, Grinmar Pharmaceuticals spun off Grinmar Biotech a few years and it now exceeds the medical division in profits. My family has really-" She caught herself proudly boasting, cleared her throat, and resumed. "That's not important right now, but long story short, the company is doing really well, my parents are retiring, and I'm in line to take over. Well, not entirely take over, because my sister... I can't assume the leadership or inheritance without my sister. We... bickered as children. And teenagers. And adults... Mommy and daddy weren't happy with that so in an attempt to either make us get along, or to punish me, I can't take over the company without her approval."
Nate nodded slowly. "I... see? Sorry, but what's the issue, Tams?"
"My sister, she..." Tamara rolled her eyes back once more and groaned. "Gina went off to travel the world on a 'spiritual quest' after dropping out of school. She said she's 'sworn off material goods' before boarding daddy's jet and flying halfway across the-" She caught herself again. "Ahem. Nobody has seen Gina for years and I have no way of getting in contact with her. I can't wait for her to just show up a decade from now when she gets bored of faking being one with the world, so I have a plan. If I were to, say, fake my sister's approval. If some actor were to fill in for her?" She saw the confusion in Nate's eyes again and panicked. "Nate, we need you! You're the only one I can trust! This is kind of maybe technically fraud so I can't trust some actor from an agency. You- You could totally pass. We're both blonde, your skin's just a bit darker but if she's been overseas-"
Nate bolted up off of the couch and shot a glance over at Sal. His roommate just held up his hands and looked away. Nate glared over at Tamara again. "This is insane! I can't- Your sister!?" He slumped back onto the couch and banged his head on the wall. "I'm supposed to be bulking up to get roles. When they hear I'm a crossdresser-"
Tamara gently grabbed his hand. "No, no! See, nobody would ever know. We'd keep it a complete secret. Nobody has seen Gina in ages and then she'd just disappear again with nobody the wiser!"
Sal piped up from the back. "It would be one heck of a show of acting talent. And you do need a gig..."
Tamara nodded rapidly. "It will be over super quickly! You'd just have to show up for the signing, agree that we get along now, and then you'd get your half of the inheritance and I'd get the other half and the company. You could keep all the money as your fee! Nobody would know it was you, it will be over in a flash, and it's kind of a lot of money. Like... A lot a lot..."
Nate bolted up again. "This is crazy. B-Both of you! It's crazy." He awkwardly spun around and escaped for his room.
Tamara shouted back at him and he headed away. "Just think about, Nate! Honey, please!" Nate placed his hand on the sensor and the door softly came down behind him.
That night, Nate tossed and turned , unable to sleep. He kicked at the covers as he stared at the ceiling. How could Tamara ask him to do that?! Didn't she understand how insulting it was? Sal must have told her about the previous rejection letters. Nate buried his face in a pillow and groaned loudly. He was talented enough to pull it off, of course, that wasn't the issue. And the money would be nice. After his college tuition and years without a substantial gig, it would be REALLY nice. He had kind of been mooching off of Sal for a few years. Not out of laziness, just desperation. Doing this to pay back Sal would be noble. It wasn't for Tamara or himself, Nate was just doing what a good friend would do.
The next morning, Nate groggily stumbled out of his room. Tamara and Sal were cuddled on the couch watching the news. "I'll do it..." Tamara and Sal looked back over at Nate wide-eyed. "I said I'll do it."
Tamara squealed and bound over to her new hire, climbing over and kicking Sal to get to Nate. "Honey, you are THE BEST!" She threw her arms around him and gave Nate a big kiss on the cheek. Oh thank you, thank you!"
Nate felt good inside, even though he regretted he had come to this. He looked over and Sal gave him a thumbs up and mouthed "Thanks" to his friend.
Tamara giddily made breakfast for her friends and drowned out the uncomfortableness with her sunshine. Nate eventually worked up the courage to speak again. "So what comes next? What do I... do?"
"I'll call mommy and daddy's people and set up a meeting. A few days from now, we'll get together, sign some papers, and we'll be quite happy."
"Tams, it's not quite THAT easy. C'mon. You know what I mean."
She dismissively but cutely waved her hand. "It won't be much. I'll pop over to my place for a few things, we'll run some tests, and you'll be perfect!"
Nate milled around the apartment, lost in thoughts about how all of this could go wrong while Sal and Tamara were out. He stewed over how he just threw his life away if he gets caught. He'd wind up in jail. And they'd all know he was there after crossdressing. He was an idiot, he never should have agreed to- The jingle of the door sensor took him out of his stupor. It was already midday and Tamara was back. She entered carrying two small plastic containers while Sal lugged a box behind her. After dropping the box, Tamara gave her boyfriend a kiss. "Thanks, Love! Now off with you! Nate and I have work to do." Sal groaned, but gave his friend a slap on the back and a smile as he went off to his room.
Nate suspiciously eyed the containers. "What's all that..."
Tamara beamed. "Some fine Grinmar products for bath and home! It won't hurt for you to know a few before we go to the company. It could help sell the illusion!" She popped open one of the plastic containers and pulled out a pink bottle with pictures of rose petals decorating it. "Depilatory! Wash up with it." Nate looked over the bottle like it contained deadly acid. "Don't worry about it! Just don't get it on your head and it will be fine. It's great stuff and we've been selling it for years." She pointed a leg out at Nate. "A razor has never touched these legs and look how beautiful and smooth they are."
In the shower, Nate followed the directions, liberally applying the lotion to his body. He winced in anticipation of a burn but just felt a slight tingle. The stuff actually smelled kind of nice. Nate supposed there was a reason that Grinmar was worth billions of dollars and dominated every scientific industry. After a quick shower, Nate was free of the goo but now hairless. And colder than he was before. His skin still tingled and felt more sensitive now that it was bare. There was a knock on the door so Nate quickly threw a towel around himself.
"You decent, Hun?"
"N-No! I haven't changed yet. Give me a second to-"
Tamara groaned outside and Nate could hear her slump against the door. "You're not supposed to change. Let me in!" Nate flicked the sensor and the door slid up. Tamara pushed the larger box into the bathroom with her and pulled out a wrapped package on top. "Here you go, dear. Change into these."
Nate looked it over and furrowed his brow at the feminine underwear inside. "Why would I have to wear this? Nobody is going to see-"
Tamara stopped him and ripped open the packaging. She held up the panties and motioned to them like a game show model. "They're special. See, look. They have padding sewn into them. It will make you look like you have some curves. Not quite as nice as mine, but they'll get the job done." Nate sighed and grabbed the panties. He squirmed into them and fidgeted. They were padded all right. He could feel the extra weight on his hips and butt and couldn't stop trying to adjust them. Tamara handed him the bra and Nate looked it over. It seemed to have some kind of gel filling it out. It felt completely natural, if not a bit hefty. "Nate, stop feeling yourself up and put it on."
"I'm not-" Tamara flashed a grin and Nate just sighed. After slipping his arms through the straps and clasping it shut, he could feel the heft on his chest. "You couldn't have gone with anything smaller?"
"My sister DOES look like me, so we have to be close. Now you know what I put up with to be beautiful."
"And modest." Tamara laughed but gently slugged Nate in the shoulder before leading him to where she had the rest of the packages laid out.
Nate looked over the spread of feminine clothing on his bed. He gently picked up a pair of stockings with just his thumb and forefinger like it was going to attack him. Tamara gave him a gentle nod. Without a word, Nate sat on the edge of the bed and rolled the stockings up his legs. They glided easily over his smooth legs and sat snug at his upper thigh. Next, Tamara handed him a knee-length gray skirt with a cute slit up the side. It hung loose on him to hide any clues to his manhood and the slit helped draw the eye away. Finally, he slipped on a burgundy blouse-y sweater. It too was loose and flowing but hung off his padding breasts.
Tamara nodded and smiled. "You're doing great! You can definitely pull this off, Nate. Er, Gina! My sister's name is Gina, so let's get you used to hearing and responding to that." She held out a choker but Nate recoiled from it.
"I'm not wearing a collar!"
"It's NOT a collar. You need something to cover up your neck and Adam's apple. This will do that and it's a bit flashy to draw attention away from your face. The less people scrutinize your looks, the better. Keep them focused on the clothing and style."
Cursing under his breath, Nate snatched the choker and clasped it around his neck. It wasn't as uncomfortable as he expected, but he still wasn't pleased.
"We're almost there, Honey. Here, mirror and sit." Tamara pointed to the bed and handed him a small mirror. "Pay attention so you can do this without me." She pulled a small kit out of the remaining box and a tube of lipstick. "My stupid hippy sister wouldn't wear makeup, but I want you to put on at least a little. It will help the disguise and make you look more civilized than whatever she's dressed like living in a cave or whatever the hell she's up to now." Nate ignored the editorializing as Tamara applied a thin coating of mascara and a light shade of lipstick to his face. After puckering up to spread the color, Tamara clasped her hands.
"I knew it. I KNEW it! You can totally pull this off. You're awesome!"
Nate looked down into the mirror and angled it around so he could take it all in. He did pull it off rather well. He didn't look like an exact duplicate but it was close enough as long as nobody investigated further. Nate looked back up to see Tamara holding a pair of black heels in front of his face.
"Aww, Tams, c'mon!"
"It will help cover up any height differences. Gina was a little big taller than me. It's just two inches, barely anything! You wear these, I wear lower heels, and we're golden."
The shoes were on the tight side and he wobbled as he stood up, but Nate quickly adjusted to the new feeling and followed Tamara out to the living room.
Tamara made a grand gesture and Sal looked up from his book. "Preeesenting, my long lost sister Gina!"
Sal looked back and forth between his beaming girlfriend and grumpy roommate. "It- It works. But I... There's nothing I can say that's not super awkward, right?"
Nate grimly nodded. "Right."
"Saaal! Tell Gina how good she looks! She did a great job!"
Sal dropped the book and defensively leaned back in the chair. "Yeah, I mean, it goes without saying. You did great, Love, and Nate looks good too. But... his voice with those looks. It's... odd."
Nate nodded. "I'll need a few days to practice it but I think I can work on getting it a little higher and softer if I just-"
Tamara butted in with a case the size of a ring box. "Have it covered, dears. Nobody questions why you're taking things out of the labs when you're the boss's daughter. Science to the rescue." She snapped open the box and pulled out a tiny chip on a thin plastic rod. "Say 'Ahhh', Gina."
Nate nervously complied as Tamara gently held his jaw and lowered the tiny device down his mouth. He felt it push into his throat, then she removed the now empty rod.
"Tams, what the heck as th- that. That. That?" Nate pawed at his throat as his voice cracked and shifted as he spoke.
"Grinmar's very own acoustic modifier! We developed it for people with speech disorders or injuries. It takes the air and vibrations you produce speaking and modulates and corrects the sound to be cleaner and easier to understand. In your case, I calibrated it to match my voice, so you'll sound a bit like me, modified by your own natural voice so it's still distinct. That will speed up your work super fast!"
Still desperately clutching his throat and disturbed by the feminine voice coming out of it, Nate spoke. "This isn't permanent, is it!?"
"Of course not! Once the deal is signed, we deactivate it and it drops into your stomach to be dissolved or eliminated or whatever. Then you'll be back to normal as you order fancy drinks on a private beach with all our money!"
Over the next few days, Nate thought about the money and beaches to get him through the awkwardness. Tamara had left him several costumes to try so he stayed dressed up throughout the day until it all felt natural to him. Sal had been ordered to only refer to his roommate by her new name and it led to some uncomfortable moments between the two. Finally and after days had passed, they got the call from Tamara.
"It's time, Sis! I'll send the car over!"
Nate dressed and the chauffeur activated the apartment's beacon that it had arrived. Before entering the car, Tamara gave Nate a once over and approved his makeup and outfit before entering the meeting spot's coordinates into the GPS and their ride whirred out onto the street.
Sal waited in the lobby and wished the two luck as they entered the elevator to the penthouse. Tamara gently rubbed Nate's back. "You'll do great, Honey. Just remember everything we practiced. We're in and out and rich." Nate nodded and the elevator beeped that they arrived at their destination.
Standing at the end of the hall were a man and woman. Despite being the heads of the corporation, Tamara's parents tried to stay out of the spotlight so it was Nate's first time seeing them out of pictures Tamara gave him to study. He could hardly believe they were old enough to be retiring but figured that if you had a biopharmaceutical company at your command, you were privy to the best care and pampering money could buy.
Tamara strode forward first and held out a hand for both her parents. "Mommy, daddy, so nice to see you again." They exchanged pleasantries and Nate stepped forward.
"Mom. Dad."
Tamara's mother leaned in. "Gina! Have you finally given up whatever foolish pursuits you had overseas?"
Her father tutted and patted Nate on the shoulder. "Dear, we talked about this. Gina, Love, it's good to see you again. How did you..."
Tamara butted in quickly. "Gina and I have been talking for the past year. And then when your proposal came in... We decided she should come home. She came to see me, we resolved our past, and had a girl's day out."
Her mother nodded. "I thought that lipstick looked a bit much, but... Tamara." Tamara glowered at the slight to her fashion sense.
Her father beamed though. "Wonderful. Wonderful! This is exactly why we put the restrictions on your inheritance. Nothing brings family together like money and stops all that pointless bickering. You children..."
Tamara seized on the opening. "Yes, the deal, father. Shall we conclude business before the pleasantries?"
"There will be plenty of time for that with the Board, for now-"
Tamara immediately jumped back in. "The Board? I thought we were- You said we were going to sign. I've had my publicist get the release ready for the exchange and-"
Her mother clucked. "We're transferring a corporation, dear, you're not signing a lease on a car. The Board will sign off on it, but paperwork must be filed and procedures followed."
Tamara stammered, frustrated and slightly angered. Her father stepped forward, "While you girls are here, come, sit down and talk."
Tamara snapped back to herself and thought quickly. "No, no, the-the publicist! I need to talk to her and stop her from publishing the release about the transfer. Gina, come with me. You need to sign off on it too." Tamara grabbed Nate's arm and pulled him back down the hall.
Her father gave a single wave. "Very well, girls. I'll have the men send you the details for the event. You- do have a phone, Gina?"
Nate giggled the best he could. "Just got back, so not yet. Send it to Tamara for me!"
Tamara stewed the entire ride back to her house and Nate quietly filled Sal in on the details. The car dropped her off at the front door, which after a quick scan, identified her, opened the door, signaled the lights, and chamber music started to fill the halls. The roommates followed her to the den.
"We're going to need to do some modifications..." Tamara muttered as she paced back and forth. "I have some things in the lab."
Sal shrugged to Nate and turned to his girlfriend. "What do you mean, Hun?"
"Modifications. Gina won't pass like just that. We're going to need to up our game if we're surrounded by people and if we have to address the Board more closely."
"Tams, you're not really thinking of going ahead with this still. Maybe this is a sign?"
Tamara shook her head. "Don't be silly. It's just a setback. There's too much on the line. It's going to be a bigger event so we'll have to dress up a bit and a baggy blouse and skirt won't cut it."
Nate stepped back and shook his head. "This is going too far. The disguise is one thing, but we're pushing things now and we're more likely to get caught if this gets big."
Tamara rushed over to him. "Gina, you can't back out now! This is small! It's just a party and then we're in the clear. Come on and-"
"Sorry, Tams. I really am. But this is... It's too much." Nate turned to walk out of the room and when Tamara went to reach out again, Sal held her back.
"Hey Nate, wait for me in the car." Nate nodded and left the room while Sal stayed back and talked to his girlfriend.
Sitting in the back of the car, Nate fidgeted with the skirt until Sal returned. He plopped down next to Nate and dialed in their home coordinates for the car. Nate spoke up without looking at Sal. "Tams wasn't too mad, was she?"
"Nah. Just... disappointed,"
"Come on, Sal, you heard what she said."
"I know, I know, but... She's not asking THAT much and it's a really big payoff." They both stayed silent for several blocks as the car sped through the streets. "We do owe her."
"Sal, that's low."
"I'm serious, man. Look, rent in this city is expensive. And with you out of work, Tams has been helping with the bills." Nate shrunk back from that. A little hurt his friend would use that against him, but also that he was a burden without knowing.
The rest of the ride was silent until they pulled up to the building. As Sal programmed the car to return home, Nate quietly muttered, "Call her tomorrow."
The next afternoon, Tamara appeared at the apartment carrying two small silver cases. She placed them on the table and gave Nate a tight, silent hug.
They separated and Nate pointed to the cases. "Are those... What you mentioned?"
Tamara nodded and handed him one of the cases. "Straight from work. Nice and clean, no records of anything missing and nothing to trace either of us to them even if somebody did notice the shipment was light."
She handed one of the cases to Nate. It was cold to the touch and he had to apply effort to release the latches. A small puff of steam escaped from the case as it popped open. Inside were two thick plugs filled with a swirling blue goo and two wrapped applicators. Nate looked at the needles and furrowed his brow. "Is this going to hurt?"
"No, no, dear." Tamara opened one of the wrappers and screwed on the piece to one of the plugs. "Nobody uses those barbaric old needles anymore. The tip actually has hundreds of micro-needles so fine you can barely see them. Shirt off!" Nate complied and breathed in deeply. Tamara held the device up to the left of his chest and held down on a button on the plug. After a few seconds, she smiled. "The needles are in. See? Didn't feel a thing." She pressed a button on the bottom of the plug and the device let out a quick hissing sound. The goo inside rapidly drained and Nate felt a tightness and pressure in his chest. "And number two." Tamara copied the process on his right side and Nate started to breathe heavily as he felt a pulsing pressure inside him. Tamara nodded and returned the two plugs to the first case. She pulled out a tablet from her purse and started typing. "Everything looks good. The readings from the bio-gel are perfectly normal and it's taking well."
Nate bent forward and gripped his knees. "Tell me this is safe again. Please!"
"Of course! Grinmar bio-gel has been used in hospitals and clinics since before we were born. Your batch is just filler to get your shape right. Once we're done, we inject a neutralizer and your body will break it down. Round two."
Tamara pried open the second case and prepped the next two plugs. She hooked a thumb in Nate's shorts and gently lowered them to inject the plugs between his hips and buttocks. "Give it a minute to set before you sit down, Honey." She back to typing and nodded at the numbers on her tablet.
Nate groaned as the pressure grew inside him and his chest started to push out. Slowly but steadily, he saw his chest expand. He held his breath tight and grimaced but the gel continued to fill out. Within minutes, the gel had ballooned out so it looked like he had two firm, pert breasts. Not quite as large as Tamara's but they undeniably looked like breasts to anybody else. Once he finished gawking, he quickly pivoted and slapped a hand to his backside. His butt and thighs had also expanded out, giving him a definite set of feminine curves. The weight on his chest was understandably foreign and strange, but Nate was more bothered by the heft in his backside. He'd been sitting on it all his life and it never felt like that.
Tamara put away her tablet. "The event is this weekend, so you just have a few days to get used to it. It's going to feel pretty different from the padding, but once you're settled in, start moving around to get accustomed to how it feels and your body acts. I'll have some new fresh clothes delivered over and a dress for the event. Everything okay?"
Nate fidgeted more. "It's great."
Nate spent the next two days getting used to being undeniably more "Gina" than "Nate". His new curves were a distraction and he found himself losing his balance more. Chairs felt softer but he squirmed more and had to break himself of that. He even tried going out for a jog as a final test, but since Tamara hadn't sent over a sports bra, he quickly learned that was a mistake.
Tamara sent the car over on the day of the event. She greeted Nate at the door and ushered him to the vehicle. "Gina, dear, one final test but it's going to be a fun one."
Nate instinctively knew that wasn't true but he was just a day away from a big payout and returning to normal, so he played along. Eventually, the car slowed to a halt and the two stepped out in front of a storefront.
"A salon?! Tamara, that's too-"
She shook her head and pushed the actor forward. "It's a perfect final test. If we can put one over on a beautician, we can surely fool everybody at the party tonight. Plus, it will be nice to have somebody else handle your makeup so you don't have to do it yourself. Relax and enjoy it."
They entered the shop and the owner strode over to Tamara and the two laughed and hugged. Nate looked around and took in the opulence of the place. Each station was spread far apart with plenty of privacy. Soft music and a vague fruity scent flowed through the entire salon. Before he could wander, the owner came over and gave him a kiss on the cheek and ushered him over to the back room. He was wrapped in towels and his hair sprayed down before behind shuffled to a chair. She leaned him back and an assistant started to blow dry and comb his wet locks. Tamara returned and spoke to the owner more, but Nate couldn't hear them over the dryer. The beautician massaged several different oils and lotions from a multitude of bottles into his scalp before the headmistress turned her attention back to him and laid out a number of small vials. She flashed a bottle of nail polish to Nate before unscrewing the cap. He tried to recoil but had nowhere to go in the chair so he resigned to the pampering. She expertly and rapidly applied all manner of makeup from the bottles, brushing and painting as the strange sensations made his face tingle. He groaned under his breath that each vial contained the Grinmar stamp on it. Finally, she held up a tiny bottle of a pinkish-red liquid and leaned in.
"You're lucky, Love, you have a very powerful friend there. We usually reserve this for only the richest clients." She gave Nate a wink and unscrewed the cap. Delicately, she painted Nate's lips and he had to fight to stop himself from puckering up or pushing the brush away. The coloring tingled like thousands of microscopic bubbles and his lips felt tight and puffy. The experience ended and Nate was finally able to pucker up and feel relief. The owner twirled the chair around and presented him to the mirror.
"It looks... lovely, ma'am."
"Oh, so polite. You don't see that in most of the rich girls that come my way. You're welcome back any time, Love."
Nate continued to stare into the mirror. He'd never quite realized the power of makeup before. His features looks softer, lashes longer, and lips fuller. His hair had more bounce and even appeared longer as it tickled the back of his neck and strands fell over his ears. He startled when Tamara placed a hand on his shoulder.
"See? Wasn't that nice? If you want to come back after this all done and we're rolling in riches, you just let me know."
Back at the apartment, Tamara presented Sal with a brand new tuxedo and a kiss on the cheek. "You go get changed and I'll help Gina with her gift." She hurried him off and pushed Nate towards his room. On his bed, there was a brand new dress laid out next to some stockings and a smattering of necklaces and bracelets. Nate held up the dress. It was a rich blue and softer than anything he'd ever worn.
"Kind of a deep cut there, Tams..."
"You're holding it backwards, Honey." Nate flipped the dress over and shuddered to see that the neckline was even deeper on the other side. "Now you can see why the bio-gel was necessary. The old padding just wouldn't have worked in that. Go get dressed. I'll change too and help you with anything needed."
After she left the room, Nate undressed and slipped on the stockings. He exhaled a final time and dropped the dress over his head. It draped down over him but he had to tug it down over his hips. It was tight around his backside and thighs but flowed at the bottom again. He had to admit, he looked gorgeous. On a woman. A woman would have looked gorgeous in the outfit. Tamara burst back in and squealed.
"Gi-na! Beautiful. Just beautiful! Turn around, turn around!" Nate complied and executed a halfhearted twirl. "Wonderful job. I don't want to pat myself on the back again, but I totally know how to pick an actor." She presented Nate with a pair of stiletto heels and picked out a few choice pieces of jewelry. Once she was done playing dress-up, she summoned Sal and hurried them off to the car.
Once they arrived at the party, Tamara sent Sal off to mingle and took Nate straight over to her parents. "Mommy, daddy! Let's get down to business."
Her mother raised a glass to Nate. "Gina, dear, you look positively civilized for once. Tamara's doing, I take it?"
Nate curtsied the best he could in the dress and shot Tamara a glare. "She's... insistent."
Her father chortled. "You used to say she was a pest. You two ARE getting along much better."
Tamara smiled. "It's truly the family way to get business done first. The Board?"
"Right this way, dear."
Tamara's parents led the two through the gaggle of guests as Nate suffered a flood of comments about how cute he was and how beautiful he'd grown after his trip overseas. A fine woman worthy of the Grinmar name was the one that made his eye twitch the most. Soon, he was standing in front of a group of men and women in stuffy business suits standing away from the revelry and guests.
Tamara immediately stepped forward and worked the group, shaking hands, calling for drinks, and slapping backs. Nate was thrilled his instructions included notes that Gina always stayed out of the business so he could hang back. He shifted nervously on his heels wishing he could head back to the main room with the hors d'oeuvres. He smiled and nodded when attention was turned his way, but that's all they required of him. Tamara started typing on some tablets that were presented to her, signing documents, and then called Nate over.
"Gina, Love, everything is set."
Nate was ecstatic. "Congratulations, Tam- Sister! I know you'll be a fine owner."
Members of the Board murmured in agreement. Her father chortled once more. "Yes, dears. Once the merger is completed, the company will be yours."
Nate glanced over at Tamara. "Merger?"
"Yes, dear. A necessary part of modern business. It just doesn't make financial sense to spin off the new division with so much competition. But oh, don't worry your pretty self about it." He tousled Nate's hair and Nate immediately hated that man. "Why the Senasyne members are already out there. Go, mingle and have fun, dear."
Nate and Tamara sauntered out of the room and he hurried her to a side room before they got to the main area.
"Tams! What was that all about?!"
"Don't worry, don't worry. It's all official. Everything is done, we just need to wait it out. The money is yours and the company is mine. Just as long as the merger is signed."
"What does that entail? How long is this going to take? You said I'd be back to normal after tonight!"
"You can be, Honey, you can be. Just help the deal along. Go out there, party, and be a cute distraction. The happier they are, the faster the deal will go through."
"And what will YOU be doing?"
"The same, Gina! Shaking hands, kissing babies, talking shop. You don't have the head for the business side, so you're better suited for the eye candy."
"If I decline?"
Tamara prodded him in the chest. "You won't."
"What's going on here? None of this was in the plan!"
"Yes, these new developments required a new plan. And if you want your money, you'll follow the new plan. Especially if you want to be changed back."
Nate recoiled at that and gritted his teeth. He tried for a deep growl, but the voice chip ensured it was anything but threatening. "How long have you known about this!?"
"The initial setback with the Board was genuinely a surprise. Our parents left that out of the initial deal. Typical of them. But when Father sent us over the invitations, he included more details and I had time to set a few things in motion."
"How long... how long has Sal known?"
Tamara furrowed her brow. "I filled him in after receiving the invitations. He agreed it was best if we continue."
Nate was hurt to know his friend played a part in all of this and stormed out. He had no choice but to play along. It wasn't about the money anymore, he just needed to put an end to all of this. He put a hand to his chest. He had to get rid of these as soon as possible. They felt even heftier and more intrusive now.
Nate surveyed the main room and the people partying. He couldn't trust any of them. If Sal was willing to work with Tamara against him, any person in this room could be willing to backstab him or turn him over to Tamara. As he looked over the guests, two stood out. A blonde woman was perched over the buffet table eating plate after plate of shrimp cocktails while a redhead stood near her heckling a waiter to bring her more drinks. Something about them seemed off. They were dressed... well, but not like the rich guests. And they certainly didn't have the composure of the upper-class around them. Just as Nate was about to step towards them, an arm slipped around his waist and pulled him back. Nate yelped and spun around to see a tall, handsome man with coiffed brown hair dressed in a pristine black suit.
"Hello. I'd heard the Grinmars had a lost daughter, but I wasn't expecting this. It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm-"
"You're Pyotr Senas!"
He bowed slightly. "I didn't think we'd met before."
"Your face is on magazines and plastered over the Internet every other day."
Pyotr blushed and seemed a little flustered. "I- I don't really go in for that. My publicist does those deals. It's... awkward."
"You're the one... Your company is merging with ours?"
"It's true. It only makes sense. My people are just working things through with yours. Forgive me for being forward, but... I think if we could talk somewhere privately, we could get to the important matters and the deal would move more quickly, no?"
Nate swallowed hard and clenched his teeth. This was exactly why Tamara wanted him this way and dressed like he was. If he declined, it might hurt the deal or Pyotr could draw it out further out of spite. But if he played along... "That sounds nice. I really do need to stay with my sister tonight. Show off for the investors and all. You know how it is."
Pyotr nodded with a smile. "Indeed. Indeed. What do you say about tomorrow night then?"
Nate forced a smile. "Sounds... lovely."
Pyotr gave her his number and with a kiss to Nate's hand, walked back to the crowd. Nate sighed in relief and jumped when another hand slapped down on his shoulder.
"Awkward. Suuuper awkward."
The redhead from the buffet line grinned and raised a glass to him.
"Who are you?!" Nate whirled around to see the blonde too.
"Mercy and Ruth at your service. Long story short, we know what's going on."
Nate recoiled. "I-I don't know what you're talking about. I, Gina, am going to go get my parents and-"
The blonde, Ruth, laughed. "Suuure. Merc?"
Mercy placed the device on her arm onto Nate's chest. "Phew. This one is rife with super science. What is that? Genetic modifiers."
Nate cautiously looked at the two. "Bio-gel..."
Ruth held out a hand. "Well come on, let's get out of here. We'll help clean you up and put this nastiness behind you. Nice dress though."
Nate was thoroughly confused but was struck by an idea. "Wait, wait... Can we delay this?"
Mercy looked exasperated. "Say what now? We kind of want to do this and go home. You're out of shrimp."
Nate composed himself. "If you change me back now, Tamara gets her way. She gets all the money and the company. They'll think Gina just flaked again. Would you help me?"
Ruth groaned. "We're not going anywhere until you're cleaned up, so what do you want?"
Back at the apartment, Nate woke up groggy after the night's events. He'd drank a bit too much during the schmoozing after talking to the two bounty hunters. Or whatever they were. He vaguely remembered Tamara dropping them back at the apartment, kicking off the dress, and passing out in his bed. Nate took a quick shower and grabbed the first outfit hanging in his closet. As he clasped the bra closed, it was tight, uncomfortably so. He ran back to the mirror and looked over his chest. It wasn't his imagination at the party, they actually were bigger. He was sure the extra weight at the party was just because he was angry and focusing on them more, but this... Nate grabbed his phone and immediately dialed for Tamara.
"What did you do to me, Tamara!?"
Her voice was groggy and tired. "Hmmzat?"
"My breasts! They're!"
"N'ah. Wow, this quickly?"
"What do you mean? What did you do!?"
Tamara chuckled on the other side. "A little further insurance. Something I mixed in with your injection in case you decided to delay things. The gel will continue to replicate and pump out hormones the longer you leave it active. Leave it in long enough and who knows..."
Nate slammed the phone down, collapsed on his bed, and screamed into his pillow. After wiping the tears from his eyes, he picked the phone back up and dialed Pyotr.
"Gina, so wonderful to hear from you so soon!" Pyotr sounded annoying healthy and chipper after the party.
"I-I just couldn't stop thinking about what you said last night. What do you say to lunch?"
"Wonderful! That's fantastic! Oh, thank you!" Nate heard him clear his throat and compose himself. "That sounds lovely. I'll send a car around noon."
"See you then!" Nate hung up and paced in his room. He had a plan. And Pyotr was going to play a big role. It was riskier now though. The longer he waited... Nate didn't want to think about it. He had to trust Mercy and Ruth could pull of their side of the plan and he would set up his.
Nate returned from his date with Pyotr exhausted. It was mentally draining to keep up the charade of being a bubbly heiress all day. Sure the lunch was exquisite but the boat ride, the walk in the park, and then the new exhibit at the museum! He had to bail when Pyotr offered to take "Gina" to a new club he'd just purchased. Nate stumbled through the apartment door and was face to face with Tamara.
"Sooo, Gina. Pyotr Senas, eh?"
Nate straightened up right away. "How did you-"
Tamara grinned. "I have some people that keep tabs on him. Always good to watch the competition." Nate just grunted in response. "But, oh I want to thank you!"
"You do?"
"Yes, yes! This is such a big help with moving the deal forward. Pyotr would never dream of canceling the merger now if it would upset you!" Tamara hugged Nate tightly. "Thanks, Honey! I was a bit worried you'd be cross with me."
Tamara strode back to Sal's room and Nate slunk back to his. He kicked off the heels and plopped down on his bed. Looking through his pockets, he saw there was already a message from Pyotr on the phone he bought for "Gina". It was already shaping up to be more work than he thought to execute his plan. But if those two ladies could pull off their side, it would be worth it. Nate reluctantly texted back that he would just LOVE to play tennis tomorrow and what a great suggestion that was.
A week later, Nate was sitting in Pyotr's private box at his club when he felt a message buzz in on his phone. He glanced at it quickly to see a simple "We're ready. -Mercy" scroll by. This was it! The next few days would make or break everything. When Pyotr returned with fresh drinks, Nate leaned in close.
"Pyotr, dear. Could we go somewhere a little more private?" Pyotr's eye lit up and he gracefully took Nate's hand and led him to the upstairs of the club. The music could only faintly be heard in the penthouse office once Pyotr closed the doors and blinds. He scooped Nate up, kissed him on the cheek, and sat him down on Pyotr's lap. Nate bit his tongue and screamed internally. "Pyotr, I've been thinking. About the merger and our companies..."
Pyotr nodded. "I'm thrilled you're interested in how it's going!"
Nate nodded. "Yes, yes, that's exactly why I wanted to talk. My sister, she wants to keep me out of the business and run it herself. And you know how bossy she can be."
Pyotr rolled his eyes and nodded slowly. "I have met Tamara several times through the years before our companies were close. You're an angel for putting up with her."
"Exactly!" Nate leaned in close so his chest pressed tight against Pyotr. "I've been thinking about doing something... naughty." The executive blushed brightly and raised an eyebrow. "Do you think there's a way to... cut Tamara out of the deal? She's my sister and I love her, so we can leave her some kind of payoff, I don't want to-"
Pyotr nodded and smiled. "Of course, as much of a pain she is, she's still family. But I think we can make some... arrangements. The Board will be quite happy for there to not just be a merger, but a union. With you and I running things together."
"Oh, goody. You're a doll!"
Nate was pulled forward into a passionate kiss and he clamped his eyes shut. He'd been dreading that last part, but he got to keep his shirt on, so it wasn't as bad as he was expecting.
The next morning, Nate awoke to a commotion in the apartment. His door zipped up, Tamara rushed in and grabbed him by the collar, slamming him into the wall, and shoved her tablet in his face.
"What the hell is this, Nate!?" Nate could just barely make out a message titled "New terms and conditions" on her screen. "You went behind my back, didn't you!? Trying to cut me out of the deal. I want you to tell my everything. EVERYTHING! Or so help me I will pump you so full of chemicals you won't be able to stand up."
She dropped Nate to the ground and he backed into the corner. "It's Pyotr. He wants to share the company with Gina and is worried about what you might do."
Tamara paced back and forth, stewing but her mind racing. She finally stopped and looked Nate up and down. "You think I won't play this game? You think I'll just give up like that!? Here's the situation, your deal is going through and I'm stepping in for you. I made you, it will be easy enough for me to take on that role." She started rattling off a checklist. "Just need to cut my hair, pump myself up a little. And you... Extensions for your hair, swap clothing... From this point forward, I'm taking over the role of Gina. I'm going to agree to these terms, but you're going to be Tamara. You're going to sit in the back, agree to the merger, and think about all the money you just lost. My parents and the Board are old. They'll die off or retire soon enough. Once they're gone and the deal is no longer in the spotlight, I'll crush Pyotr, take over the company myself, and go back to being me." She grinned with a sinister smile and poked a finger into Nate's face. "If you do ANYTHING to ruin this, my threat still stands. Get dressed and then you're coming with me. I want you in my sight until everything is done. I want you to see this backfire in your face and everything you'll lose."
Tamara stormed out of the room and Nate fired off one last message on the phone before getting dressed and dragged to Tamara's house.
It was the night of the final handover and Tamara shoved Nate through the front door. Despite everything at stake and the situation, he was feeling more comfortable than the previous party. Tamara had him forgo the heels and gave him a looser, more concealing dress to hide to aide in the swapping the of the Tamara and Gina personalities. To pass as Gina, Tamara was more made up and flashed expensive jewelry. The minute she walked in, Pyotr was at her side with a loving embrace and kiss. Nate could practically feel Sal seethe at seeing his girlfriend in the arms of another man, and the spite made Nate feel a little good inside. True to their form, the family got down to business first. Nate had to initiate the paperwork to pass for Tamara, but he quickly signed the forms declaring that Tamara would no longer seek ownership and would not compete with the new Senas-Grinmar merger. He was handed the code for a cash transfer, which he immediately put through on his phone and transferred to his own bank, and then handed the paperwork to "Gina". Nate could hear the rumblings of how well Tamara was taking the blow, but they all wrote it off as her not wanting to make a scene, followed by snide comments about how they never really liked her anyway so it was probably better for the company, even if Gina was an oddball.
Moments before the real Tamara could sign the paperwork for Gina, Pyotr cleared his throat. "Gina, my love. On this momentous day, I don't want it to be just our companies that join together." A hushed gasp came from the members of the Board. Pyotr got down on his knee and produced a small box, that he then popped open to reveal the largest diamond Nate had ever seen in person. Tamara looked back at Nate and Sal in a panic. Sal clenched his fists and stepped towards Pyotr, but Nate grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
"Easy there. If she turns him down, the whole deal could fall through." Sal grumbled and relaxed.
Tamara nervously accepted in Gina's stead and the room erupted in clapping. Pyotr gave a polite nod to the woman he thought was Tamara and Nate replied with a huge grin. Pyotr seemed pleased to have his new sister-in-law's approval, especially after the deal. All eyes were on the new couple, so Nate took the distraction to send out one final text. Tamara and Pyotr signed the final paperwork and the room erupted in clapping once more. As the members of the family and Board crowded around the newly engaged business owners, only Nate noticed the green flash in the hall. The strange blonde and redhead snuck into the room and flicked a few of the TVs to life.
The redhead smiled when Nate came over to them. "I have to say, man, this was kind of fun. Vigilante action and acts of heroism."
The blonde nodded with a sly smile. "The news should be hitting any moment now."
Nate checked over his shoulder. "Are we all set to go?"
Mercy nodded and pointed to her the gauntlet on her arm. "We'll be out of here as soon as it goes down."
"I think I'm a millionaire now. Do you two... can I pay you?"
Ruth shook her head. "Your money's no good to us. Besides, you're going to need it to get out of the country or something. I can't imagine these two will be thrilled."
Nate shuddered. "I... hadn't thought of that. I'll need to go into hiding until this blows over..."
The trio turned around as murmurs started to fill the room and the gathered party started to talk louder and louder. "Somebody turn that up!" a voice rang out.
The TVs were quickly boosted to full volume as the screens were filled with reporters hurriedly talking about a massive release of private information from the Grinmar labs. Thousands of documents detailing the failures of products in testing and confidential documents had arrived at the desks of news stations around the city.
The Board was in a panic. They were unreleased products and tests, so there was no harm to the public, but how could the information have been released. It would be a public relations nightmare to explain that to the everyday citizen. This was a stain on the trusted Grinmar name!
Ruth pouted. "Where's my stuff? Mercy had the easy job!"
The redhead stamped her foot. "Easy!? Do you know how much portaling around I had to do to grab that information AND get it to the stations. I'm a certified secret agent now."
Nate beamed, too giddy to hide it. Not that the collected members were looking anywhere near him; they were glued to the reports and shouting into their phones at unfortunate secretaries and assistants on the other end. Suddenly a collective gasp rang out.
Ruth proudly stuck out her chest. "I think that's mine!"
The news reports were interrupted by yet another story with the Grinmar name plastered all over it. Early investigations were showing that Grinmar Biopharmaceutical's formulas and documents were appearing on file sharing sites across the globe. In a move that could bankrupt the company, an attacker released extraordinarily sensitive information to the public, entirely for free.
Nate ushered his new friends towards the exit. "You just released the good stuff, right? Not the junk they pumped me full of?"
Ruth shrugged. "What do I know? I'm not a chemist. I saw files with formulae and I copied them."
Nate nodded. "I guess I kind of feel sorry for Pyotr. I think we just bankrupted him in the process. He probably has some money stashed somewhere, right?"
Mercy glared. "We've delayed this mission long enough. Do you REALLY want to stick around for your phony boyfriend."
Nate hurriedly clasped her hand. "No. No! Let's get this over with, please!"
Mercy tapped her gauntlet and a green door appeared in front of them. "Hop in and we'll take you out of here for a detox. You owe us a drink though."
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Read more Mercynaries comics and stories at: http://www.sincomics.com/ddg.php
Hell Of A Story
A Mercynaries Story from SinComics.com
Wesley gripped his briefcase tightly as he hopped over a puddle left by the day's storm. It had thankfully died off before his shift was over, signaling a perfectly acceptable way to end another day at the advertising firm. Sure the toothpaste and deodorant contract wasn't as glitzy as some of the other cases, but it was a necessary product, and judging by the people of the city, the word needed to get out about their powers.
Wesley's life was hardly exciting by anybody's standards. He woke up early, got ready for the day, walked to the office along the same route, put in a long day's work, walked home, and slept to be ready for the next day. Even Wesley accepted that this was less than thrilling, but the effort to shake things up might only make it worse, so he was pleased to stick with what he knew, thank you very much.
Walking under the scaffolding of the construction site, Wesley looked down to shield his eyes from any sparks or debris. The site had been an unwelcome addition to his morning routine with its noise and visual blight. Such is the price of progress at times, for there would one day soon be a gleaming new office building on this spot and the workers would be gone. Almost as if on cue, a chorus of shouting and cursing started up above him, followed by a booming metallic snap. If he had been a more daring man, Wesley would have told them to be quiet, but he was currently pondering why the lingering rays of the setting sun were blotted out by a shadow and there was the rush of a whooshing of air. He felt something start to press on the top of his head and then Wesley thought no more.
Wesley came to in a waiting room. It was dark and lit by an unseen flickering light source. The walls were cave-like and made of a reddish-orange stone. The whole room was hot, but it was a dry heat so it was fairly pleasant. Sounds and movement could be heard from the other side of the sliding divider that likely made up the receptionist's window, so Wesley did the proper thing. He sat quietly until he was called.
An indeterminate amount of time slowly passed as Wesley sat in the waiting room. An hour or two more and he would feel compelled to march over there and knock on the divider for some service. It was downright rude is what it was. Wesley politely stewed for some time more when the divider slid open and a woman's voice rose from beyond it.
"Uhh, 'Wess-lay'?"
"It's actually pronounced- "
"Cool, cool. Hey, here's your paperwork."
Wesley walked over to her and took the stack of paper. She was a pretty woman, deep orange hair, swept over one shoulder, her skin with a reddish hue. Wesley shook his head to himself. Young people always went overboard with tanning. And her outfit was completely inappropriate for an office setting. She was practically spilling out of her blouse. It would take at LEAST three more buttons done up before that went from an HR violation to just inappropriate.
The woman handed Wesley a pencil and flashed a grin filled with the brightest teeth he had ever seen before sliding the divider closed. The strangeness of the situation was finally starting to creep in. Wesley couldn't exactly remember where he was or how he got there. He had been walking home from work, and then... waiting room. Bizarre or not, Wesley had a stack full of paperwork, so the only proper thing to do was sit back down and fill it out. That's what paperwork was for.
With every word read and line adequately signed, Wesley walked over to the divider and rapped on it with his knuckle. "Ma'am?"
The divider opened once more and the woman held her hand out without looking away from her computer. "Hey, that's great. Sit back down and your Afterlife Counselor will be with you shortly."
The divider slid closed and Wesley stood staring at it for a brief time. Afterlife Counselor... He returned to his chair and pondered the ramifications of what was going on. It did make sense in its own way and it seemed fairly reasonable that the Afterlife might be an office, since that's what so much of life was. Wesley sat politely, but more introspectively this time.
The door beside the receptionist's desk swung open and another beautiful woman stood in it. She was slightly older than the earlier woman and Wesley was hoping he could have a word about proper professional wardrobe, but she wasn't much better. She wore a tight blouse and jacket that bulged with her curves and a miniskirt that would hardly be classified as more than a belt. Her long, shapely legs led down to ankle-high boots with a stiletto heel that just looked dangerous. Wesley felt that she stood towering over him, her chest at an uncomfortable eye level, forcing him to look up at all times, but with a flick of her long black hair and a puckering of her ruby lips, he was completely disarmed.
"Right this way, Mr. Wesley. I'll be your case worker."
She led him through a row of offices before motioning inside one. Wesley sat down on another hard plastic chair, while she plopped into a cushioned throne on her side of the desk. She leaned forward and grinned, Wesley was pleased that she had the courtesy to button her blouse all the way or this could have been a distracting meeting. She flashed a grin before leaning back in her chair, tossing the stack of papers to the side, and picking up a gray stone tablet that was on her desk.
"Mr. Wesley!" She ran a long fingernail down the tablet and skimmed it. "Let's see here. Normal appetites and desires for a human. Worked to your capabilities and didn't stretch yourself beyond your means. Kind of boring there on the sloths, greeds, gluttonies, and envies. Sure of yourself but never imposing it on others, so just that general pride and assuredness of your actions. Quietly raging about the injustices of the world and how much better things would be if everybody just following in your suit. That's a nice touch of repressed anger there, but you did so little with it! Shame... But lust, now this is where you get interesting..."
Wesley tilted his head away from the strange woman. "Pardon?"
Her grin returned as she skimmed the tablet. "Leaving a string of heartbreak in your wake. Oooh, one of them was a married woman! Thrown out of no less than nine strip clubs for getting a bit too frisky with the dancers..."
Wesley jumped to his feet and gestured in a fairly non-threatening manner. "Now see here! I will put up with the rather rude behavior and unprofessionalism of this staff, but these slanders are entirely uncalled for. I have never-"
"Wes, baby, your permanent record doesn't lie. All your sins and misdeeds are recorded here for all to see. The list goes on and on! You've led a-" She licked her lips and grinned, "lustful life."
Wesley gathered himself, tucked his shirt back in, and sat down. "Then clearly there is a mistake. Your front desk person was none too attentive, so it would be safe to surmise that you have the wrong record. Perhaps some other Wesley..."
The counselor shook her head and clucked her tongue. "Are you trying to add blame and lying to your list of misdeeds? Everybody thinks they can live a life of frivolity but then tries to deny it when they come here. No mortal can change a record so don't deny your luxurious ways, love."
Wesley shifted forward to scold the woman once more but his voice was caught in his throat. He gasped but no sounds came out.
The woman smiled, shuffled his papers, and dropped the stone tablet on top of them. "By the power vested in me by the Netherworld, I now instate your ironic punishment. Served until you pay off your sinful dues." She blew a kiss towards Wesley and a pair of flaming lips sparked from her hand and dissolved into the air.
Wesley stood once more and tried to take a grand step towards her but he was frozen in place. Flames leapt around him, crawling up his body, swirling until they covered him head to toe, but there was no pain or heat. His body was numb. The smell of sulfur stung his nostrils but it quickly turned to an acidic but overpoweringly sweet citrus scent as it poured into his nose and mouth, filling him with each gasp.
His body tingled and throbbed, with a pressure building up inside him and yearning to push out with every breath. A flurry of sensations rippled through him as his chest pounded and his hips quivered. His work suit burned away until he was clothed only in the flames. They squeezes at his legs, moving up slowly, coating him in a slick black substance. Wesley was jutted forward as thin spiky heels burst out from the substance on his feet, but the flames held him steady. It worked up his calves, reshaping them, traveling up his thighs as they became thick and powerful. The black substance stopped as the flames traveled up to his backside before it squeezed him once more, providing cover just as soon as his rear ballooned out behind him. His hips pressed out and he could feel the heft of his behind just barely contained in a pair of black short shorts. The substance once more stopped covering him as the pressure snaked up to his waist, squeezing it more and more. His waifish waist only made the curves of hips that much more pronounced and drastic. The slick coating returned as the pressure reached its boiling point at his chest. In rhythm with his silent gasps, his body pushed out and two globes inflated out from him. They seemed to grow endlessly as the pressure inside him bubbled and churned. Exhausted, Wesley shuddered as the mounds wobbled and he felt their heft pull him forward as the swirling flames finally moved on. They coated his arms in slick black gloves as his slender fingers grasped at the air. The flames licked up his face, softening, pulling, and rearranging his features as his breath finally returned to him with a gasping moan. The last of the flames swirled up his head, culminating in a twisting, undulating mass of red hair that dropped back down forcefully, resting to where it could drawn even more attention to his generous backside.
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Wesley continued to be held in place by shock, only able to get out breathy gasps, as the counselor fanned herself and grinned.
"Phew! Never get tired of seeing that! Hot stuff." She brushed her hair back and took a deep breath. "Your punishment for your life of lust is delivered. Your case can be rejudged when you have completed your purgatorial penance. Enjoy!"
Before he could move or protest, Wesley was picked up into the air and he flew out of the office and down the hallway, the sights zipping past him. Finally, he was thrown out a door, landing on his enormous backside with a bounce.
Wesley picked himself up, unsteady in his ridiculous getup, fighting to keep his curves from tipping him forward. He looked around and saw he was in a gleaming modern city. The buildings were made of a black rock that seemed to absorb all the light around them while mirrored windows shone in the pinkish light of the sky. Wesley stumbled forward, gawking at the sights of the bizarre city, teeming with people and humanoid creatures bustling every which way.
Forcing himself forward, Wesley took dainty, cautious steps in the new world. Keeping to the edges of the pathways, he found himself gawking at the city and its inhabitants, only to quickly see that they were returning the favor. A group was now surrounding him, looking him up and down, and grinning happily at the jiggling display. Wesley tossed an arm across his chest and another in front of his shorts for what little extra coverage he could get and backed away. His meaty backside soon bumped into another person and jostled both of them.
Wesley panicked and assumed a defensive position. "I'm sorry! I'm not quite used to-" He looked the creature over and while it appeared to be human at first glance, its "hair" was made of slicked back quills and Wesley could see its maw was filled with hundreds of spiky teeth as it opened wide. Wesley yelped and startled backward, tripping over his own heels. A tongue shot from the creature's mouth, wrapping around Wesley's slim waist and held him up.
"Welcome! Haven't seen you around here before. And I'm pretty sure I'd remember curves like that." The creature grinned and sucked its tongue back in.
Wesley shivered but controlled his disgust. "Thank you, I must be going now..." He turned only to see the crowd had moved in closer. Several creature sidled up closer, trapping him.
A man with red skin and pointed ears gestured in a mock bow. "Stay! Stay! Let's get to know each other."
Wesley felt a hand grasp his behind and he instinctively kicked out, sending a small impish creature rolling back. "Hands off! Get away from me!" Wesley stamped the ground with his heel, the intention of a threat diminished by the comical bouncing and jiggling it sent through his new body.
The crowd seemed to enjoy the gesture.
"Show us more dominance, my lady!"
"Yes! Yes! We're here to be taught lessons."
"Teach us!"
Wesley cowered and pulled in, but saw a divide forming in the crowd.
"One side, cretins. Get a move on! Pitiful monkeys, shoo!"
A woman walked through the crowd, pulling the gawkers aside or checking them out of her way. She looked to be the same kind of creature as Wesley, only less balloonish, with pointed ears and the tiny tips of horns growing out of her forehead. She also wore the slick, black materiel Wesley was clothed in, but hers was stretched out into some semblance of a uniform. The kind of thing a stripper dressed up as law enforcement would elect to wear. She waved and threatened off the last of the crowd and shook her head at Wesley.
"You're going to have to do better than that to clear out THOSE types, girl."
Wesley stammered for a few seconds before managing to blurt out, "I'm new!"
The woman nodded as if that explained everything. "Bloody counselors never do any training. Just toss a young succubus out into the world and expect her to-"
Wesley's mind finally caught up to her terminology. "S-succubus?!"
"Sure thing. A demon of lust. We're pretty popular around these parts and you look like you're set to be a super star." She gave Wesley's chest a playful bop and smiled at the wobbling and bouncing that ensued.
"Stop that! I'm no... No demon! I'm not even supposed to be here. There's been a terrible mistake and I-".
The officer shook her head at the sob story. "I take it you're a human. Always the same story. Nobody is ever to blame. Everybody is innocent. I've heard it all before, sister. Let's get you a coven and put you on the road to redemption."
Wesley allowed himself to be dragged forward by this strange woman, but he was none too thrilled with the option.
The pair eventually reached a palatial estate deep in the heart of the city. The building was set up like a castle, lit up in pink with deep purple drapes and decorations all over. The officer showed him inside and presented her frightened ward to the woman at the front desk.
She looked up from her book, brushed back a strand of almost electrically flowing pink hair, and looked the two over. "Room for two?"
The officer shot the lass a scowl, but the worker just grinned. "Dropping this one off. Some of us actually do work around here." With that, the officer ruffled Wesley's hair, turned on her heels, and slipped out through the curtains, leaving her charge once again scared and confused.
The demonic worker looked over Wesley and nodded. "You'll do nicely. Let's get you set up!"
She led Wesley to a back room lined with closets and cabinets, instructing him to pick out whatever he desired as she walked back through the curtain. Wesley looked through the offerings, ashamed to even lay eyes on the clothing contained within.
"Don't you have anything... even remotely respectable?"
The woman paused to think. "There should be some tassels in one of the drawers. That's fancy!"
"I'm sure a suit is out of the question, but a dress at the least?"
"Oh, sure, the blue closet."
Wesley walked over, flipped through the outfits, and slammed his fist against the wall. "They're see-through!"
"Yup! Only the best for our girls. Besides, it's not like you'll be wearing it for long."
"...Pardon?" Wesley cringed.
"You're a succubus. You'll earn your redemption by having your lustful ways turned against you as you entertain demons and mortals alike. Shows, dancing, parties. The girls will show you the ins and outs. Ins and outs! You can use that line if you want."
Wesley grabbed the closest thing approximating actual clothing and sprinted for the window. He pushed and squeezed his hourglass figure through the window, before flopping to the ground and once again being slightly thankful for all the cushioning. Ignoring the stares of onlookers and the gyrations of his body, he ran as best he could away from the succubus den.
Roaming the streets, Wesley was despondent. Everything in this world was out to make a fool of him and punish him for crimes he didn't commit. No! If work was the way out of this torture, he would work, but do it his way. Hard work and perseverance could win over any horror the world threw at him.
Sitting in the waiting room of the office building, Wesley cowered at the creatures and monsters that passed by. A fair share of human-looking characters also walked through, so he was confident in his plan that a hard-working human could find redemption through toil. And toil is what office buildings were for. The rest of his mind was preoccupied with willing his outfit to contain his unruly curves. The blouse he has taken from the den was not made for a woman of his current proportions, so he used all his mental powers to hope that demonic stitching held together.
After some time had passed, Wesley was called into an office to make his case. The creatures he interviewed with ignored his credentials and tales of his fine GPA. He was regretfully thankful that his figure continued to hold their interest.
"I was a lead advertiser at Déesse Corp. Surely you've seen their campaigns even here!" Wesley gestured with his hands, pausing to hold together his blouse against the bouncing that accompanied such movement.
The female demon turned to her counterpart and gave a slight shrug. "The name rings a bell..."
Wesley slumped back and sighed deeply in despair. The extra intake of air was too much for the over-stressed fabric, and the blouse could take no more. A button shot from the garment, freeing its mountainous prisoners, and struck the wall behind the two interviewers. They suddenly snapped to attention and smiled widely.
"You make a convincing argument! Let's put you to work right away!"
Wesley wasn't surely if he was able to mutter his thanks or not.
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Wesley soon found that the demonic corporate culture was less interested in his work ethic and skills than it was in just using him for amusement. At least the demons were more up front about their treatment of their workers. Coworkers constantly dropped small items for him to pick up off the floor once they found out he couldn't bend at the knees in his boots. As the crowd grew each time he bent over, more and more of them found things to drop for Wesley to retrieve. His supervisors would come to him with tasks that required him to run as quickly as he could across the office to obtain a file or coffee but Wesley never actually saw them use the items he procured. The previous worker's desk was replaced with a see-through glass table, requiring Wesley to be quite adamant about keeping his legs crossed in a lady-like fashion. Even the chairs seemed to get smaller, forcing him to tug and bounce his way out when his plump behind became stuck once more.
After a week of his constant humiliations and objectification, Wesley was greeted one morning by two women. The redhead held out her hand and spoke first.
"Hey there! I think you're our man."
Wesley rolled his eyes. He'd been mocked enough for that comment to hurt him. "Not interested."
The blonde stepped forward. "I'm Ruth. What my partner, Mercy, meant to say is that we're here to get you out of this place."
Wesley glared. "And what, take me to some burlesque club. Or abandon me in the middle of the city in somehow more demeaning clothing? My standard punishment is more than enough, thank you."
Mercy tapped her chin. "This is either going in a much weirder or much hotter direction than I anticipated... C'mon, we're busting you out!" Both her partner and Wesley shot her death stares. "Okay, okay. Bad phrasing!"
Wesley bent back over the filing cabinet kept low to the ground, and the two women couldn't help but stare at the view. "You're distracting me from my work. I don't want to imagine what overtime is like in this place, so shoo!"
Mercy shrugged and walked away. Ruth paused and turned back to the client."We'll, uh, figure this one out on our own then. We'll come back for you!"
Outside the office, the two women mulled over the situation. Mercy grumbled regularly.
"What a jerk! I say we leave him and find a client that's a bit more polite!"
Ruth shook her head. "That's not the right thing to do. Jerk or not, we have to help him. Poor guy is trapped in that body, so he's bound to be a bit uppity."
"I guess... I mean, you're stacked with supernatural chestyness too and tend to be pretty grumpy. Maybe there's a correlation between-" Her partner stormed off towards the counselor's offices. "Oh now you're going to be mean to me too!? The afterlife sucks."
The counselor eyed the two humans sitting in her office. "Mercy and Ruth..."
Ruth grinned. The benefit of working with the supernatural was that they were a lot more open to the oddness of the Mercs' job. "Glad we're well known. If you could just-"
The demon narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, I know about you. I've heard from plenty of girls up on the surface about you meddling in possessions, curses, and minor plays for domination. Do you know what it takes for a succubus to get a pass to visit up top? And then to get busted right away just because she tried to transform a few guys into servants!"
Mercy waved her hands. "We're just cops, man. Take it up with the chief. We don't pick our assignments. If demons would stop trying to give guys boobs we'd all be-"
"Enough!" Ruth slugged her partner in the shoulder. "Somebody that came through the system recently had an error. You filed him off on lust charges, but it's a mistake. You got the wrong record or something."
The counselor leaned back in your chair and looked down on the two agents. "No way. Everybody only has one record. It's created when you're born and then you're stuck with it for all eternity. There's no way we got the wrong one."
Mercy thought it through. "Then maybe there was a miscalculation! Maybe this guy is SUCH a stick in the mud that he's so lust-free that he like... rolled the counter back over? He's so pure, you took it as a mistake and filed him as impure!"
"Again, not a chance. The calculations are done by the Divine. No mortal or demon can even affect these if we wanted to. If the calculations are off than Divinity is so busted that you two have bigger problems on your hands."
Ruth pleaded. "Look, we work for the Divine so they recognized that something is wrong. Maybe they're fighting again, who knows! Just do us a solid on this and give us that one guy back. He's not even fun to torment! He's just going to keep the stiff upper lip thing up the whole time."
The demoness nodded. "But what's in it for me? This is a lot of paperwork."
Mercy slyly smiled. "The faster you give him up, the faster we go home. You wouldn't want two cops hanging out around here all the time would you? Interfering with the operation you have going on on the side?"
The counselor scowled. "All right! All right! Yeesh, I thought the Divine were supposed to play nice. Collect your mark and get him out of here. Jerks."
Mercy gave a bubbly thanks and hopped out of the room, her pigtails bouncing feverishly as she jumped around. Ruth followed quickly behind her.
"Whoa, Mercy, nicely done. How did you know she was up to shady dealings?"
Mercy shrugged. "She's a demon lady in a corporate bureaucracy. She had to be up to SOMETHING she didn't want the boss knowing about. Let's go get the client."
The team returned to office building to find a cheering circle of workers. Ruth hunched forward, "Oh this can't be good." The pair pushed and shoved their way to the front of the group only to see Wesley bent over the knee of a gargantuan demoness. With each swat of Wesley's behind, a new round of cheers and laughter rose up around them. Wesley helplessly flailed his legs and was shouting something or other about remembering to refill the coffee machine next time.
Mercy dove in, yanked their charge free from his supervisor's paws, threw one of this arms around her shoulder while Ruth grabbed the other, and scrammed for the elevator amidst a throng of boos and jeers from the crowd. Once the doors were closed and they were safe, they tapped Wesley on the cheek.
"Hey, cheer up. Things can only get better from here, right!?"
Back on the city streets, Wesley massaged his sore bum, while the girls explained the situation, playing up their valiant efforts to thwart the demonic bureaucracy and win against all odds. Wesley didn't believe a word of it, but his time in the city had him willing to accept any means of escape. The women bid him a good afterlife and shoved him through a glowing green doorway that materialized behind them.
Wesley wheeled backwards and landed hard on the flat bony behind he knew so well. He was back to his old self, complete with the store brand dress shirt and slacks he'd worn for decades prior. Wesley sighed deeply and collapsed back to the ground. He looked over his surroundings and saw the all-white expanse of the Limbo around him. Misty white clouds rolled across a cloudy white ground, while a white sky shone around him.
Wesley stood, turned around, and surveyed the nothingness. The calming, quiet nothingness. Then he sat back down, breathed deep once more, smiled, and sat politely to wait for somebody to collect his soul.
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Read more Mercynaries comics and stories at: http://www.sincomics.com/ddg.php
The Illusion of Being Maternal
A Mercynaries Story from SinComics.com
Jules clattered after her boss as she took a purposeful stride through the heavy double doors of her office with a flourish that indicated she was angry. Jules smoothed her skirt and combed back her hair before putting on a smiling face and slipping through the door as it closed.
"The show was a great success, Ma'am! You 'Maternal Sunshine of the Spotless Dress' line went over brilliantly and will surely destroy sales of the competition's new sundress debuts. Any line not using flat colors this year will surely crumble." Director Barrows nodded slightly and sunk into the executive chair at her desk. "The cross-promotion and advertising for the pharmaceutical and vitamin division is already seeing sales and click rates triple across the-"
"The dress didn't hang right!"
"E-Excuse me, Ma'am?"
"You saw it. Florence's dress. It was too tight. Fabric couldn't sway properly. It was perfect in yesterday's alterations!"
Jules adjusted her notes and flipped through to Florence's profile. "She is in the final months, Ma'am. It is expected that her shape will-"
"Ugh, and if she's in the final months then I'm going to lose yet another model any day now. By the time you get them trained and useful, they're getting ready to leave! Why can't we get somebody to just STAY in shape."
"My lab tried, Director. The medicine and hormonal cocktails did allow women to experience the growth associated with a full pregnancy at a faster rate and without the nasty side-effects of actual babies."
"Jules, dear, I know. But due to the rapid maturation, it just meant that once my models got to the right size, the hormones burned out faster and they went back to being thin, waifish, and useless even faster. And my billions in research along with them. We've been over this."
"Yes, Ma'am, but I've been- The simulations..."
"Out with it, Jules! You know my thoughts on these mousey ramblings."
"My work... You're going to need to hire a new assistant."
"What? Are you quitting or is this some attempt at a negotiation? I will crush you, Jules! I love you like one of my own but I will grind you down and-"
"Ma'am, no! For the tests, you're going to need somebody new. And a bit different from our previous employees. Let me explain-"
Ronnie nervously fidgeted as the elevator ascended through the building. From his tiny desk at the ground floor through the catalog and magazine division to the show rooms and photography offices. He bet there were a lot of pretty ladies in that office. Damn shame his keycard didn't give him access to anything past the conference rooms on the second floor.
The elevator slowed as he reached the top floor and came to a halt with a deceptively cheery ding. Being called into the boss's office had to be a good thing, right? If they were going to fire him, his supervisor would have just done that downstairs. Unless they were rubbing it in! Making him see all the fancy offices and successful people before dashing his hopes and kicking him out. He'd only just started last month! They couldn't fire him after just a month's work, he had done his job well and-
The elevator doors slid open to reveal a young woman with glasses juggling multiple tablets and notebooks. She wore a fitted white mini-dress with a white jacket belted high above the waist and bright red stiletto heels. Her blonde hair was pulled back tightly. Ronnie thought she would be rather cute if she let her hair down and stopped dressing like an evil dentist. She looked back and forth between one of the tablets and at Ronnie's face.
"You must be Ronnie, correct? Boy have we heard good things about you! You're really burning it up down there with your..." She scrolled through the tablet balanced on her forearm. "Transcription, copy editing, and schedule management skills."
Ronnie beamed. His work WAS noticed! Everything was going to be great.
In the Director's office, Ronnie sat stiffly upright in his chair as his boss and her technician stared him down. Jules adjusted her glasses and looked through her notes.
"Mr. Ronnie...You are single, correct? Unmarried. Live alone. Nobody that would miss you if you moved away?"
Ronnie nodded. Maybe she was hitting on him asking for personal information? "I was thinking of getting a cat."
Director Barrows pointed at some boxes on her assistant's tablet. "And Ronnie, you like the company? You are a loyal worker?"
Ronnie enthusiastically nodded, eager to make a good impression. "Yes, ma'am! It's nice here and everybody is a big fan of Sandwich Wednesdays!"
The owner turned to the side. "Jules, I assure you I have no idea what that is."
Jules waved her hand towards their interviewee. "It's something we do to placate the lower workers. You can buy them off with some platters of meats and cheeses." She turned back to Ronnie. "Now, Ronnie, your evaluation came in quite high. We think you're ready for a promotion!"
"Wow! I... I don't really remember being evaluated though."
Jules scrolled through her tablet. "We, umm, we track the work you do on your computer."
Ronnie nodded sagely. "That sounds efficient." Bosses loved to hear the word "efficient".
The Director's distaste and boredom was becoming harder for her to hide. She was used to giving orders and sending people on their way, so needing to play nice and engage one of her drones was an unpleasant new experience. "Ronnie. Dear... We would like YOU to help with a new initiative. You're aware of the company's key position in the maternity world. Leaders in fashion, medical, and biological fields."
"Yes, ma'am, it's part of the daily oath."
"Good, good. We need your help for the company to excel even more."
Ronnie smiled but furrowed his brow. "I'm happy to help but... I don't know anything about the maternity world. I'll study though! You just tell me-"
Jules handed over a stack of paperwork and pointed a pen at Ronnie and then the signature lines. "No need to worry about that. I'll be doing all the hard work. Hey, how would you like to meet our models?"
Grabbing the pen and signing everywhere and anything he was presented with, Ronnie beamed. "Would I!?"
With the papers signed, Jules dropped them off at the desk and started to assemble several containers and boxes from a table off to the side. "Director, the issue we had with the earlier test subjects is that the female body is designed and programmed to finish the process when the baby is ready. Our new subject doesn't have that biological imperative. There is no ending mechanism so it can reach the desired advancement but doesn't have a finishing state so it finds a new homeostasis." Jules pointed to Ronnie and held up a long tube with a needle on the end. "Roll up your sleeve."
Ronnie leaned away from her but nodded. "What is that? Is this a drug test? I didn't know I'd need an injection..."
Jules shook her head. "I suppose the position could go to another worker. They would much rather have that new apartment and help the models..."
"A... new apartment?"
"Of course! An assistant to Director Barrows can't be far away. She needs you close. Now, arm."
Ronnie pushed up his sleeve and Jules effortlessly slipped the needle in, taped it to his arm, and attached the line to a silver canister. After a flurry of button presses on the canister, a radiant blue liquid slowly worked its way towards Ronnie. He felt a cold burn for a split-second as the liquid entered his veins, but the feeling almost immediately faded.
Jules returned from the desk with a small paper cup. Ronnie looked inside and saw several brightly colored spherical pills inside. Director Barrows was now at his side with a tumbler of gray water. She offered the first smile Ronnie had seen from her.
"Wash those down with this. My new assistant!"
Ronnie smiled, dumped the paper cup into his mouth, and took a deep swig of the water. It had an acidic, citrus-y taste. He could feel it moving down his throat, thick and coating like stomach medicine. His throat quickly felt numb. Ronnie went to speak but he was overcome with a deep, aching exhaustion. He wobbled in the chair and tried to shake his head to regain his composure. His stomach rumbled and he could no longer keep his eyes open. Jules and the Director were excitedly exchanging words but it was all garbled randomness to Ronnie. He slumped back in the chair and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Spots of light filtered the world back to Ronnie. His head was fuzzy and light but things started to come back to him. What he could make out was all white. Shaped but all white. White cabinets and dressers against white walls. White curtains over bright windows. White sheets spread over him. A loud snapping click boomed in his ears and he groggily slumped his head over to it.
"Ah, it's alive. Good good." The blurry figure of Jules leaned into his view and she stopped snapping her fingers. "Everything went quite well. Your first success."
Ronnie tried to speak but the best he could mumble was a "Blftst."
Jules nodded. "Indeed. Now, we're waking you back up because the trials have run their course. Nobody wants a model jacked up on fresh chemicals and hormones. They're bad enough as they usually are."
Ronnie's limp hand patted his face and things felt as normal as they could through his haze. He slumped his hand onto his chest and it was met by a cushioned softness. He patted it again and felt the same confusing sensation.
Jules picked his hand up and placed it at his side. "There will be time to feel yourself up later. I have work to do."
A slurred "Womnnn?!" oozed out of Ronnie's lips.
Jules paced back and forth looking at charts and her tablets. "Well not technically, that would defeat the whole purpose. Sure outwardly but genetically you're the same, which is all I really care for." Seeing Ronnie's confused shuffling and attempts to rise, Jules effortlessly held him down with one arm. He struggled weakly until Jules tired of his interruption of her work, reached over to the table beside him, and jabbed him in the arm once more. "Go to sleep. We'll talk later."
Ronnie was slowly brought back to reality as the chemicals wore off and he was more together and composed the second time around. As together and composed as he could be in a strange, distorted body. His arms and legs were thinner and had lost muscle. His features softer. His stomach thinner, causing his hips to look like they stuck out more, and they looked suspiciously more full to begin with. His chest, they were undeniably breasts. Small but definitely there. And down there... His hands rested on his smooth lap; what had those drugs done to him... No matter what Jules said about him, he was completely a woman.
Unsure of how long he sat on the bed trying to make sense of himself, Ronnie startled when he heard the door open. Director Barrows confidently entered the room and looked over Ronnie. She scanned him up and down before glancing over her shoulder to Jules, now back in her business attire.
"The process will require a few days for the full effect, Director."
"Well in that case, welcome to the team, my new assistant. We have big plans for you and you're going to be SUCH a help to my projects!" Ronnie looked back up at them in confusion. The corporate world was a strange one. "Let's get our star home, Jules."
Jules walked over to Ronnie and motioned back to her superior. "I'm going to need some help, boss."
Director Barrows was taken aback. "What? Don't we pay people to handle these things?"
"This is a quiet operation, Ma'am. You and I are the only ones that know about our latest tests. It wouldn't look good if details of our model came to light."
"I suppose. Consider this your first perk, Assistant. You get help from me on your first day. People usually have to spend a lot to get that."
Ronnie was walked through the white facility and led to an elevator. It sunk deep through the facility until they reached a garage with the Director's car waiting for them. As Ronnie shuffled inside, he was overcome with how fancy the luxury car was. Its plush seats felt good on his new body as he sunk into them. The Director slid in next to him and did her best to avoid Ronnie's constant star-struck staring. But if her plans worked out, she could buy her new toy her own limo and this would be their last awkward trip together.
They arrived at a gleaming skyscraper made of glass. Ronnie gawked, leaning back to see the top, but Jules was quick to stick an arm out and stop him from falling backwards. He was guided into an elevator and taken many floors up, before the car stopped and opened directly into an apartment. It was nicer than even the fanciest hotel room Ronnie had seen. The lighting graced the pastel walls and all the furniture was brand new and fresh. The grand living room branched out to a modest kitchen with the bedroom just visible down the hall. The Director walked past Ronnie, looked over the quarters, and shrugged.
"Modest, but we took what was available on short notice. Jules, I need a drink."
Jules puttered around the living space, making the final checks and notes. "No alcohol, Ma'am. The subject will abstain from it. I have the kitchen well stocked with all the essentials she requires and to help the process along." She pointed her pen at Ronnie. "For now, eat as much as you want. I can restock. Take advantage of it. Most models can't."
Ronnie was thoroughly overwhelmed and simply nodded.
The Director huffed. "Then I'm calling it a day. Jules, update me when the project can commence. Assistant, welcome aboard." She hurried to the elevator and Ronnie gave her a meek wave as the doors closed.
Jules made her final checks and pointed Ronnie to a phone on the table. "That will contact me. And only me. If you need something, let me know and I will come by. You have tonight off to explore this space. Eat and rest. Anything in the closets is your wardrobe to chose from, but I will be making your choices when you return to work."
Ronnie waved as the elevator took away his other guest. He had a direct line to the boss's pretty helper! That had to be a good sign. Looking over his fancy new apartment, Ronnie steadied himself on the couch. He was still getting used to his new body. His limbs felt longer and more slender than before so it took some adjusting to get used to walking. Why had they done this to him? What part of being an assistant required the loss of his manhood? But Director Barrows WAS rich, so she knew better than he did.
A gurgling in his stomach allowed Ronnie to stop thinking about the deep issues. He was hungry and tired, so his goals were to fix those and food came first. The pantry was well-stocked and the fridge had a bounty of individually boxed and labeled containers. That was thoughtful of Miss Jules. Ronnie dug into the closest one but was too famished to pay much attention to what it was. Something with cheese and sauce and meat, but it made his grumbling stomach stop and that's what mattered.
After washing his hands and dumping the dishes in the sink, Ronnie wandered to the far end of the apartment and saw his new room. It had two wall-length closets, a number of dressers, a make-up table complete with a giant mirror, and a huge canopy bed up against the wall. Ronnie opened the bed's lacy curtains and pushed the silk pillows aside before plopping back onto the downy comforter. He was barely on it for a few moments before he slipped into a deep sleep.
The next morning, Ronnie was jostled awake by a sharp poke to his side. Jules was standing over him holding out her pen and impatiently looking at her tablet. Ronnie skidded to the front of the bed.
"Miss Jules, I-" he stammered.
Unaffected, Jules pointed to the mirror. "Let's go, I have tests to run."
Ronnie crawled off the bed and followed her to the mirror. Jules stood him up straight and squared his feet. She pulled out a length of tape and wrapped it around Ronnie's new bust before typing some numbers into her tablet. When she let go, he touched a hand to his chest and felt that it was heavier and pushed out more. They had to be twice as big as they were the day before. Before he could comment, Jules tapped his arm down and continued with her measurements. After getting his waist and hips, she took his height, and reviewed all her numbers.
"You're doing quite well. Not quite the progress I wanted already, but acceptable."
Ronnie slumped. "I'll try harder?"
Jules pointed him to the dresser which was overflowing with underwear. Silky lady underwear. Ronnie cautiously looked it over. Jules looked him up and down and back at her tablet.
"Start with the third drawer. Those should fit you for now." She then pointed to the pink door. "Shower is through there. I'm done here for the day. You just continue to rest and eat and I'll check in tomorrow."
Ronnie smiled and nodded. Those were tasks he could accomplish and they were a lot less hectic than his normal work duties. He'd try to impress Jules with... whatever he was actually supposed to be doing.
The rest of Ronnie's week continued in the same manner. Every morning, Jules would come to his apartment, take his measurements, those bust and hips measurements would be increasing at a rate Ronnie wasn't quite comfortable with, Jules would assign him some new clothing, and he would spend the day resting. He was tired a lot and ate several meals per day, but the apartment was nice and he got to watch a lot of TV.
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The next week, Ronnie woke himself up. He stretched and felt the ample weight of his curves, his nightie tight against his chest. He was already looking through the underwear in the dresser's top drawer, having outgrown everything in the lower ones, when Jules arrived. She took his measurements once more, smiling the whole time, but then Ronnie felt a prick in his arm. Jules dabbed away a spot of blood and put the device in a canister before remembering Ronnie.
"Just some more in-depth tests. I want to run your numbers at the lab."
"Is that good?"
Jules looked him up and down, proud of her creation's figure and femininity. "Very good."
Ronnie nodded in agreement. She was totally checking him out! Jules turned to go, but Ronnie stopped her.
"Miss Jules, do you think maybe I could go out soon? It's getting a bit boring. I'm thankful for your hospitality and all but I'm feeling a bit cooped-"
"I think you're ready. I will collect you tomorrow for a morning regimen."
"Thanks, Miss Jules!" Ronnie went over to her for a hug she reluctantly accepted. His plump breasts dwarfed hers as he pulled her in tight.
It wasn't just the boredom, Ronnie wanted to get out and moving around. He was starting to develop a bit of a gut from doing nothing more than eating and sleeping all day.
In the morning, Jules provided Ronnie with a tight top and leggings and pulled a pair of hard-soled slippers from his closet. They entered the elevator and it descended to an unknown floor. When the doors opened, Ronnie saw a brightly lit room filled with treadmills and various machines spewing data.
"Wow, this is our gym?!"
Jules eyed him suspiciously. "Yes... the gym. Why don't you do warm up on the treadmill?"
Ronnie was thrilled since this was exactly what he needed to drop the extra weight. It took some time to get used to the new sensations coming from the body's extra weight bouncing around, but Ronnie accepted he'd need to slow down and managed with practice. He tired fairly quickly, either due to the new body or the week of leisure, but Jules led him to a bright white room containing a bubbling pool in the middle.
Jules motioned for him to undress and get in. "Hot tub. It will help you relax after your test."
Ronnie slid into the warm, slightly thick water but it was comfortable. His skin tingled as he sunk in.
"Miss Jules! Get in on this! It's really comfy!"
She just shook her head and retreated from the room to clack away on the machines in the other room.
For the rest of the week, Ronnie began every day with a workout and long soak in the gym, but he couldn't shake his growing gut. He was eating less and working out more, but every day he woke to the bulge in his belly larger and rounder than the day before. By the end of the week, it was easily visible through all of his clothing.
Jules was unconcerned and even delighted by his weight gain, so Ronnie tried not to complain and just go with it. His bump neared the size of a basketball when Director Barrows paid him her first visit since he moved in. She threw one arm around his shoulders and gently patted his stomach with her other hand.
"My dear, assistant, I think it's time you started helping me with your work again."
Ronnie was a little relieved to be back to tasks more interesting than sitting around. "Yes, ma'am. I'll be happy to get back to the computer systems and-"
"No, my dear, no. I want you in the studio." She motioned to the elevator and Jules pressed the button. Ronnie rose with a grunt, holding his stomach, and followed his boss away.
Ronnie was driven to one of the company's studios and led to a large, open room with racks of clothing and piles of fabrics lining the walls. Director Barrows moved in a flurry, holding clothing and fabric up to Ronnie, barked numbers and orders at Jules. Ronnie didn't want to interfere so he stood rigid and sucked in his gut as best he could. Director Barrows flicked him in the back.
"No, no! Stand natural! Loose. Let the world see that beautiful figure."
The scene continued for hours and a multitude of costume changes. Ronnie was exhausted even though he did little more than stand around, walk short distances, or turn around at the Director's orders. She seemed delighted at whatever he was doing right, so Ronnie felt like he was doing well at the new job.
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For the next weeks, Ronnie's days played out in the same routine. Mornings in the gym, then he was driven to the studio and worked one-on-one with Director Barrows on her fashion and plans. She started lessons on modeling and walking and posing. The whole process was confusing but Ronnie held on and followed her orders. It had been about a month since he signed on and he would have been unrecognizable to his old self. His belly was round and extended. Plump enough that his breasts touched his stomach. He felt healthy otherwise and Jules assured him he was great and exactly what was needed, not to worry, and he would have plenty of time to get used to it.
Director Barrows sketched as Ronnie took a break to rest and refresh himself. "At the risk of you getting full of yourself, this is amazing work, Jules. Just one month and she's as full as a mother expecting any day now."
"I'll take that as high praise from you, Ma'am. The tests show that the hormonal changes are stable and self-sustaining now. He'll stay that way until you tire and give him the ending treatments."
"Tire! My dear, these designs are worth every penny spent on your research. I have a doll I can move and pose and put to work. To see the natural flow of my work on a mannequin that can run the catwalk... Yes, yes. Jules, look over the schedule. I want her in a show. I have my inspiration and designs, get me some models, and make her the star."
For their next session, Director Barrows held up several swatches of spangly fabric to Ronnie and murmured to herself. This continued for quite some time until she barked some orders and numbers at Jules and excused herself. Ronnie relaxed, holding his protruding belly. Jules took a phone call and left, but the Director soon returned with a long purple dress draped across her arms.
"For you, dear!" She beamed.
Ronnie looked it over in confusion. "That's... a dress. Like a lady's dress. I know you've been giving me a lot of loose clothing for my weight problem and whatever's going on with my body but..." Ronnie was cut off by the studio door opening and in marched a line of the company's models. Every one of them was gorgeous and clad in elegant clothing. They were curvy and made up perfectly with outfits that embraced and proudly showed their pregnant bellies. Ronnie stiffened when the gravity and gravidity of his situation struck him. He looked from the models to himself over and over. "I'm- I- I'm not fat, I'm-"
Ronnie broke from where he stood and waddled out of the studio as fast as he could manage. The models muttered among themselves and Director Barrows growled.
"Jules! Bring her back to me. If anything happens to my doll!"
Jules complied and raced out the door. She quickly caught up to Ronnie down the hallway.
"What did you do to me?! I'm- Ugh, pregnant?!"
Jules matter-of-factly shrugged. "You're not technically pregnant since you're not with child. Your body has just undergone a hormonal cascade that tricked it into thinking it had to prepare and grow for a pregnancy. You're in a self-perpetuating pregnant state that can't end in birth."
Ronnie stared at her blankly for several minutes. "I didn't want this!"
"You agreed to sign on to become the Director's new assistant. We have the paperwork."
"I took a job as a helper. I'm not a science experiment!"
"You are helping. The Director is the nation's greatest designer of maternity wear and nutrition. Your work is a great help." Ronnie gasped for air. "You DO want to continue helping, correct? It would be a shame to have to let you go in such a state. We would not be able to provide a good reference for your next employer."
Ronnie slumped and allowed Jules to hoist him up to his feet and lead him back to the Director and other models to plan for her new show.
The night of the event was nothing more than a blur to Ronnie. The models came and went, undergoing costume changes with a swarm of stylists buzzing around them. Every time the curtain opened, lights flashed and the crowd noise was a buzzing din mixed with the music booming from overhead. Ronnie spent the whole night being done up in a chair and barely had a chance to admire the models. Director Barrows personally took over for his makeup duties after the first stylist complained about Ronnie's short hair. He'd had that haircut since college and was thankful it stayed a constant despite what he'd been made into.
As the night wore on and the costume rack was slowly whittled down, Director Barrows fixed up her own makeup and signaled to Ronnie.
"It's time, my doll!"
It took Ronnie a few attempts to get up out of the chair but with a grunt, he freed himself and tottered onto his heels. He clung tightly to the Director's arm as she strutted out to the curtain with a confidence Ronnie couldn't even dream of.
The flashes and sound were disorienting and Ronnie held tight. Trying his best to remember the walk and route the Director had drilled him on, but the experience was so overwhelming. The Director led him out to the end of her arm, signaled for him to turn around for the crowd, and then pulled him back in. She shouted some thankful platitudes to the photographers and people in the crowd, but Ronnie was dizzy and stressed, so he just awkwardly waved and tried his best to smile. That was the same thing he did in the job interview that led to this madness.
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Ronnie soon learned that the life of a model wasn't as glamorous as he hoped it would be. He was whisked away from event to event, country to country, and subject to the Director's whims at every stop along the way. He didn't even get to spend much time with the other models to enjoy his situation. Outfit after outfit was pushed his way and he was dressed in all manner of clothing as he pranced around runways in front of photographers and artists he'd never heard of. He was practically shoved on stage to model the company's new line of "From Here To Maternity" lingerie and night wear and had no desire to see the coverage the Director and Jules fawned over when the reviews were out. In comparison, the gym wear and "Maternity House" end of summer dress line were a breeze to show off. It was at the company's reveal of its new office wear brand for the mother that wanted to work until the last moment, that Ronnie almost became wistful for his old life of tedious work.
Flying back home, Jules and the Director debated some of the figures. Ronnie was happy for the flights since they kept him off his feet and he could rest in the plush seats and not feel the weight of his belly.
"Ma'am, we can't have her on stage at every show. It will start to become suspicious how you have the same pregnant model in every line."
"That was the whole point, Jules! To have a doll I can use over and over and have her be perfectly pregnant every time. Do you not agree with the quality of the work? So much more convenient than hopping from model to model as they go off and abandon me for their... babies!"
"The work is secondary to the issue, Director. We can continue to use the subject for testing and design, but we'll need to put at least a year between now and her next big show." The Director grumbled and noisily crumpled her papers for show. Jules was used to this level of executive pouting and continued. "If you'll authorize the funding into my work on facial remodeling, we can use that to hide her identity as a long-term solution."
Upon returning to the lab, a quick elevator ride took the group to Jules's workspace. As they entered, Jules let out a gasp and rushed to the broken machinery littering the ground. Devices had been broken apart and their materials collected, notes were confiscated, computers and backups smashed, and chemicals mixed and dumped. Ronnie stayed huddled behind the Director as Jules frantically searched through the pile of debris.
"You know," A young woman's voice rang out from the back room, "You have a suspiciously perfect model." A blonde woman casually walked in, holding a selection of glamour shots and magazine profiles.
A redhead followed close behind flipping through a catalog. "Some of the dresses ARE pretty cute though. Wouldn't she look good in this one?!" She hooked her thumb at her partner while holding out a picture of a two tone mini dress with tails.
The Director stood her ground. "Explain yourself."
The blonde smiled. "Mercy and Ruth, nice to meet you. We're... investigators of sorts. But it doesn't take much to question how a suspiciously curvy model springs up out of nowhere and becomes a fashion star overnight. We've seen the signs before. You make a model with boobs that big when you own your own secret laboratory and people are just going to start asking questions."
Director Barrows crossed her arms and stared down the uppity interloper. "Everything is on the level. We have our employee's signature and approval on everything. You have no grounds to-"
The redhead waved her off and addressed Ronnie. "Dude, how long have you been a lady?"
Ronnie looked back and forth to the Director and Jules. "All my life?"
The redhead sighed and tutted when she walked past the Director and saw Ronnie's bulging figure. "Look what they did to you! Don't stick up for these jerks! When was the last time you saw your feet?"
The Director pushed her arm out to sweep Ronnie behind her. "Enough of this! She's fairly compensated for something she signed up for. I made her a star and she loves it."
The blonde grinned and grabbed a stack of papers from off the desk. "Yeah, we hit up your office first. Would this be her contract? I noticed you cheaped out and tried to hide him as an 'assistant' instead of a model."
"She assists me so it's a perfectly valid filing."
Ruth flipped through the contract and grinned wider. "But models are salaried while assistants are hourly." Director Barrows winced and Ronnie looked around to figure out what was going on. "I think your assistant could make a pretty convincing case that what you've done to him and what you're using him for means he's been on the clock 24 hours a day for the past months. And I don't think you've been properly paying that out so we'd be happy to have our team set him up with a wage theft lawsuit."
Mercy nodded, her pigtails bobbing. "That's a looot of overtime."
Director Barrows cracked her knuckles and thought over the situation. Ethics be damned, but wage lawsuits were expensive and came with bad press. "Ronnie, love, how'd you like a NEW promotion! One that comes with a new contract. We can clean up that bit of messiness and get you taken care of."
The redhead groaned. "Don't do it, man! She's trying to take advantage of you! Side with her and you're going to be filled up like a balloon for the rest of your life while she gets richer. This is your best chance to go back to normal!"
Ronnie was breathing in quick, short bursts. He had no idea what was going on and confrontations made him very nervous. "I-I want to be normal again. I know you like me like this Miss Jules, but I don't want to be like this anymore."
Jules looked at him quizzically. "What?"
Ronnie held his belly and stepped forward. "I have demands!" Director Barrows grumbled and stomped over to a desk at the edge of the room. "I want you to make me normal again. A normal guy. Without boobs. Or pregnant."
The Director growled, "We get it!"
"And I want my old job back."
Ruth threw down the contract. "Seriously, man?!"
"Yeah, I like the company. The work's not much but I'm treated okay and there's room for promotion."
Mercy threw up her hands and waved them maniacally. "This is your chance to stick it to a boss that's abused you! Demand more!"
Ronnie thought deeply for a moment. "And we all get an extra Sandwich Wednesday. Sandwich Fridays for everybody in the office!"
The blonde and redhead sighed and after moments to repeatedly curse under their breath, addressed Jules.
"You can turn him back?"
"It's a simple enough procedure. I just need to neutralize the-"
The redhead waved her hands at the lot of them and activated a device on her arm. "What-EVER! Just fix the idiot and don't do this again." A green doorway appeared next to the them, they gathered up the confiscated material, and stormed out of the lab before the door blinked away.
Ronnie's transition back to his old self took its time, but he was thankful to the Director and Jules for allowing him to retain use of the fancy apartment while it happened. The process felt like a week long deflation as his belly, hips, and chest slowly reduced in size. Once he had regained his manhood, Jules returned to make her final diagnoses and summarily moved Ronnie back to his old apartment and set him up to return to work. Ronnie was happy with the normalcy. Being a star seemed like a lot of trouble but being normal got you two sandwiches a week.
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Read more Mercynaries comics and stories at: http://www.sincomics.com/ddg.php
Loop DeeDee Loop
A Story From The Mercynaries World At SinComics.com
Diego leaned back in his plastic office chair and stared at the second hand of the clock as it made the final revolutions needed to signal the end of another work day. It wasn't unfulfilling work but there's only so much energy you can draw from a day of glorified data entry. As the clock made its final labored thunk over to 5, Diego shut down his computer and grabbed his bag. Just as he locked his desk drawer, he could hear a figure shuffle up behind him.
"Hey, Big D!"
Diego shuddered. His idiot coworker Randal. That was being a bit harsh, but Diego had internalized their relationship into an imaginary and completely one-sided rivalry as they fought to escape their current positions that Diego was clearly over-qualified for. Randal just thought of Diego as his neighbor that didn't know enough about sports or whatever show he had personally been watching lately.
"Hey, Randal. Time to get out of-"
"Dude, you watch the game last night? Sick, right? That shot Holt made at the buzzer, then the way he hit the ground! How long do you think he'll be out? My fantasy league totally needs..."
Diego stared blankly into the space behind Randal's head, counting the seconds until it wouldn't seem rude to cut the conversation short or jump out the window.
"Tell me about it, man! Well, Randal, see you tomorrow!"
Diego shuffled off through the cubicles towards the elevator without waiting for a reply, avoiding contact with the rest of his coworkers, and practically jumped at the elevator call button. With a scan of his keycard, he was home free for another short night.
Diego twisted the knob to the apartment door and it swung open freely, a clear sign his roommate beat him home. Or never left for work in the first place.
"5:17, on the dot!"
Diego shrugged; he was predictable. But that also meant reliable.
"Heya, Sal. What's for dinner?"
Diego could barely get his hands up in time to catch the box of spaghetti Sally whipped at his head.
"Just for that, YOU are making dinner tonight."
Diego smiled and hung his bag up on the rack and gave a fist bump to Sally as he entered the kitchen. They had met years ago after he just left school and she was desperately pitching articles to a contracting magazine publisher. They both desperately needed a roommate to save on rent and they lucked out in finding somebody they could both tolerate. Over the years, they'd hopped from apartment to apartment as rent rose but stayed roommates and best friends, even though they could probably scrape enough together for a place of their own these days.
Diego dumped the pasta into a pot of water, turned it on, and walked back to the table Sally was writing at.
"How was your day?"
"Fine. Up until you just ruined pasta night! You get the water boiling and THEN add the pasta. How do you screw up pasta!? You're such a dooork."
They playfully punched each other in the shoulder as Diego walked by to his room. Inside, he kicked off his shoes and hung up his coat. On his desk, his degree sat nicely framed and aimed at the hanger so he saw it every day. He wasn't sure why he never moved it. It just seemed taunting now so maybe it was a mix of motivation or self-flagellation to move up in the world and make something of the engineering degree so he didn't just push numbers around a spreadsheet for the rest of his days. With a sigh, he tossed off the day's work clothes, hung up a set for tomorrow, switched to a T-shirt and sweatpants, and returned to the kitchen to try to salvage his disaster of linguine and meet Sally's standards.
After the meal, Sally helped clean up and they puttered around the apartment for the rest of the night going over the latest story Sally was writing, the latest awkward confrontation with the weird janitor at Diego's office, and arguing about whatever bad TV show to watch that neither one was actually invested in. Diego said his good-nights as Sally continued typing, they exchanged their customary good-night high five, and Diego ended the day.
The mechanical buzz of his alarm clock woke Diego and was the first thing to greet him every morning. He shambled over to it with a groan. The buzz seemed even more discordant than usual and he was still exhausted, as if he never slept at all or had run a marathon in his sleep. He slapped the alarm off with a grunt but something about the motion felt wrong. Diego stood frozen, staring at the arm on the clock. It wasn't his. It looked longer and slender. And hairless. He shuffled over to the mirror, his body aching, already feeling wrong, and panic rising inside him. Diego looked into the reflection and it too was all wrong. It... It looked like his face for the most part, but the skin was smooth, there was no sign of stubble to be shaved, his jawline looked softer, and his nose a touch more petite. Even his bangs were longer and his hair tickled the back of his neck.
Diego spun around and braced himself against the dresser. Everything was wrong. He touched his side and found that it indented a little but his hips stuck out just a bit more. In a panic, he patted himself down testing and slapping his body until he painfully landed on his chest. The slap was immediately shocking and he held the hand to his sensitive chest. It was soft but pushed back against his touch. Diego stared into space, unable to tell how much time had passed. He finally pulled back his collar and looked down his front to see two small breasts attached to him. Diego wrapped his arm around his chest and bolted for the door. He yanked it open, stepping back on a pen that had fallen out of his suit pocket and plopping down onto a more cushioned backside.
"Morning, sunshine!" Sally greeted him with a raised spoon. "News said it was going to be a hot one. If you want some cereal, get it quick before I go for bowl two because we're almost out of milk. I can grab some when I go to-"
"What the hell is going on!?" Diego shouted.
Sally stared back at him. "What's up, Dee? Are you... okay?"
Diego strode over to her and gripped the table. "No. No! Look at me!"
Concern came over Sally's face. "W-What's wrong?"
"I'm a- a woman! Look!" Diego patted his chest and pointed at the intrusions onto his life.
Sally raised an eyebrow and went back to her cereal. "I freaked out when I hit puberty too, but that was a few years ago, Dee." She chuckled and flipped the page of the magazine she had on the table.
"No! No! I shouldn't- I'm not! Why are you calling me 'Dee'?! You've never once called me that! It's Diego, it's always been..." Diego clutched his head. The room felt like it was spinning and throbbing started to build.
"Whoa, whoa, Dee! Are you..."
Sally's words faded out as Diego's headache built into a pounding crush. His vision started to fade and a flash of white at the edges crept forward. He drew a deep breath and felt the sensation of falling backwards.
The mechanical buzz of his alarm clock woke Diego and he shuddered up with a start. He looked around in a panic and saw he was back in his room. Before he even looked down, he could tell he was still changed from the weight and heft on his chest. Diego looked himself over and things went from bad to worse. His shirt was sticking out more, almost stretched out now. A trembling hand cupped his new breasts and they were definitely larger. Peering into the mirror, Diego could confirm that the changes were more severe now. He could still see himself in the reflection but her features were softer and most definitely feminine. He touched his lips and could feel how soft and full they were.
Diego looked at his room and everything was close but off just slightly. There was now a large, pink brush on his dresser next to the mirror, his bottle of cologne for date nights was replaced by a small perfume bottle, and there was a pair of flats next to the door instead of his work shoes. Looking over his suit hanging on the peg, it was a completely different cut. The jacket was smaller, his dress shirt was now a silk blouse, and a long skirt was dangling from the hanger instead of his pants. Diego backed away slowly until he step on something and started to tip backwards. He quickly reached out and grabbed on the dresser to steady himself and saw his pen roll away under the bed. How had it gotten back near the door after yesterday...
Slowly venturing out into the hall, Diego saw Sally sitting at the table clutching another bowl of cereal.
"Morning, sunshine!" Sally greeted him with a raised spoon. "News said it was going to be a hot one."
Diego raised his hand and started to interrupt but he caught himself. The original items in his room were in the same place he left them the day before, the pen was back by the door, Sally started the conversation the same way... It was as if yesterday was looping over again. The day hadn't changed but he had. The last time he tried to correct Sally, he passed out, so this time Diego stayed quiet.
"If you want some cereal, get it quick before I go for bowl two because we're almost out of milk. I can grab some when I go to the office."
Diego stood silently and watched her flip through the magazine.
"You okay there, Dee?"
Diego fought back the urge to shout and rant. He nodded weakly. "Everything is... fine."
"Cool. Hey, hurry up already. I want to go with you to the gym today. Taking advantage of your guest pass. Mooooching!"
Diego nodded and silently made himself breakfast before returning to his room, throwing on a shirt and sweatpants, putting his work clothes in his bag, and joining Sally at the door.
On the walk over, Sally chatted as if nothing was out of the ordinary, her same playful style and the banter built up through years of friendship. Diego spoke as little as he could, running his current status through his mind, searching through Sally's words or the city around him for any indication of the curse that had befallen him. Nothing else was out of the ordinary. The same ads on billboards, the same sanitation workers he saw every morning, the same lines at the same coffee shops. It was as if the entire world carried on properly except for him.
At the gym, Diego dug his pass out of the bag and flashed it to the woman at the counter. Sally threw her arm around his shoulders and gave a thumbs up to the thoroughly indifferent worker. As he was putting the badge away, Diego caught a glimpse of the front and saw that the picture had changed from his usual awkward grin to that of a woman smiling, the woman he saw in the reflection. He blindly followed his usual path as he stared at the badge. The world around him seemed to have change to accommodate what he now was. Still looking down, he pushed against the door in front of him, but stopped when he heard Sally laugh.
"So is THAT why you hit the gym every morning. Here I thought you were staying healthy. Bit early for getting frisky, girlfriend."
Diego cocked his head and stared quizzically back at her. As he turned his head and saw that he was about to walk into the men's changing room, Diego let go and jumped back. Sally laughed again.
"Hey, don't let me stop you, Dee! You work out how you want to."
Diego spun around back to her.
"No, I was just accustomed to that route from when I used to use that room.". He noticed the strange look on Sally's face and he couldn't keep the pitiful charade up any longer. "Sally, you have to remember! Me, Diego!"
He felt a throb in his head and Sally awkwardly adjusted the bag's strap on her shoulder.
"Diego a guy that goes here you know?"
Diego dropped his bag and the badge and ran over to his friend.
"Please say that you remember! This isn't me! I'm not supposed to be this way!" The throbbing rose in intensity and the white flashes started to fire off at the corners of his vision again. He stumbled forward. "This isn't me..."
Diego could hear Sally yelling for help and her words of comfort as she caught him after he slumped forward, but the sights and sounds of the world were taken away by the whiteness once more.
The mechanical buzz of his alarm clock woke Diego and he shuddered up with a start. He slapped the alarm clock to silence it and groaned. The changes to his body had once more become more severe as the new loop started. His curves were now prominent and his night clothes were tight. His full, rounded breasts wobbled as he twisted to throw back the strands of hair that now fluttered in front of his eyes. Diego grabbed the strands of his shoulder-length hair and pushed them back, looking around the room for any new hair ties or bands that may have appeared. The woman in the mirror gazed back with long eyelashes, pouty lips, and a button nose.
Diego looked over the work clothes hung up and they were now overtly feminine. The blouse had a deep neckline and a noticeable lack of buttons to cover the cleavage and the skirt looked considerably shorter, it probably wouldn't even go down to his knees now. Tucked neatly on the floor, Diego spotted the pair of heels where his shoes had once been. As he turned away, his degree caught his eye. The frame was smaller and the silver embossing and college seal were missing. He reached for the diploma and gave it a hard look, the first time in years he paid any real attention to it. His engineering degree was replaced by a Secretary and Administrative Assistants certification made out to "DeeDee". His head grew fuzzy for a quick moment and his thoughts were filled with memories of the classes and tests he took to earn that degree. The sudden flow of his new history was disorienting and Diego angrily slapped the certificate back onto the dresser and started for the door. As he reached for the knob, he looked down to see his pen on the floor again. He muttered to himself and kicked it around the room before entering the hall.
"Morning, sunshine!" Sally greeted him with a raised spoon. "News said it was going to be a hot one. If you want some cereal, get it quick before I go for bowl two because we're almost out of milk. I can grab some when I go to the office."
Diego nodded solemnly, part to Sally and part to whatever cruel world had cursed him so.
Sally looked up from her magazine and rolled her eyes towards Diego. "Ugh. I don't know if I'm jealous or furious that every day you can wake up and your hair is perfect right out of bed. Stop being so adorable this early."
Diego smiled despite himself. Sally was always good to cheer him up, whether the Universe had it out for him or not.
Sally returned to her cereal and magazine. "I want to go with you to the gym today. Taking advantage of your guest pass-"
Diego cut her off, "Moocher."
Sally startled and laughed. "I was going to say that."
Diego made himself breakfast once again, returned to his room to change and gather his work supplies, and joined Sally at the door.
On the walk over, they chatted, walking closely and smiling. Diego scanned the city around him but once again saw no changes and no signs of the world trying to tell him how to escape the loops or whatever was affecting him.
At the gym, Diego dug his pass out of the bag and flashed it to the woman at the counter. Sally threw her arm around his shoulders and gave a thumbs up to the thoroughly indifferent worker. Before putting the pass away, he looked it over again and the picture was now a glamorous shot of his new body smiling for the camera. The first good identification picture he'd ever taken and it was in a body he didn't want ownership of. He stuffed the badge back in his bag and made sure to follow behind Sally towards the right changing room.
In the room, he followed Sally to a set of lockers and almost instinctively reached out to the one next to hers and dialed in the code to unlock it. Looking back at the panel, the string of numbers was unfamiliar, but it was burned into his mind as if he'd entered it hundreds of times before. Diego looked over to Sally pulling off her shirt and folding it up. He immediately looked away and could feel his face turning red. Years as roommates and they never once entered a sitcom-esq situation where they walked in on each other, but now he was right next to his friend topless. Diego was snapped back to reality when he realized he would have to follow suit. He looked into his locker to see a fresh set of pink and black tights and a sports bra hanging up waiting for him. Trying to get it over with as quickly as he could, Diego peeled off his T-shirt and grabbed the sports bra. He slipped it over his head and struggled to stretch it out over his bountiful assets. Diego had to cup his chest and shift it to get comfortable in the new wear. It was tight but not completely uncomfortable. A quick glance to the side revealed Sally staring and a little red-faced. As they met eyes, she snapped her attention back to her locker and finished changing. Moving swiftly, Diego suited up and squeezed into the tights, having to tug them up and around his curves, trying to not make a show of himself.
Sally led the way out of the changing room over to the treadmills. Diego hopped on the one next to her, programmed in his usual run, and found himself in the deep end of confronting his new body and its curves. He immediately found he couldn't keep up his usual speed thanks to the added weight and bounce around his chest and backside. Diego lowered the settings to where he could at least not make a fool of himself and stayed himself against the bouncing and jiggling.
Even at the lower settings, he was exhausted by the end of the run. Sally tossed him a towel.
"You okay, Dee? You look beat."
Diego wiped his face off and tried to compose himself as best he could. "Just... Just a bit... tired."
"Maybe you're coming down with something? Look, don't push yourself."
"Good... Good idea. I'll call it early today."
Sally reached out and gently squeezed his hand. "Okay. Hey, I'll give you a call before I head to the store. If you're still not feeling well, I can pick you up some cold medicine or something."
Diego smiled and felt calmed by the feeling of her hands over his. "Thanks, Sally."
After as quick a shower as he could manage, Diego finished cleaning up and changed into his work clothes. His fears were realized and he did his best to pull the blouse up and tug the skirt down to cover himself up more. The body itself was bad enough, but he had no desire to show it off. As he strode towards the office, Diego had a realization on just how effortlessly he was walking in the heels. They were a few inches high but he moved as if they were second nature to him. Now focusing on them and his walking, he teetered and wobbled as he made his way through the lobby and scanned his badge at the elevators.
As the elevator headed towards his 19th floor office, Diego stepped forward but the elevator didn't stop. Diego looked down at his badge and saw DeeDee's photogenic face looking back at him. Whatever changes this body had made to his life, his job had changed. As the carriage shuddered to a stop on the 22nd floor, the doors opened and Diego stepped out to the managerial floor. A glimmer of hope passed over Diego as he finally got to see the payoff he worked so hard towards reaching at his previous work.
"Hey! Double Ds!"
Diego was jolted out of his haze to see Randal walking by with a coffee mug in one hand and making finger gun gestures with the other. Diego immediately felt sick to his stomach. Without Diego around competing against Randal on performance and ability, he must have wormed his way into the promotion and its managerial position. Another rush of memories flooded into Diego as he could now see DeeDee's entry and rise through the company in his mind. Her track was similar to his and the timelines matched perfectly, but she eschewed the engineering and data entry in favor of promotion through the ranks of the company's secretaries and administrative assistants. One final memory hung heavy in the mental ether and Diego could now recall the company's last Christmas party. He'd drunk too much and while in his past life where that had led to him falling asleep in the break room, in DeeDee's life, she made out with the floor manager under the mistletoe. Diego's knees went wobbly and he steadied himself against the cubicles. He slowly inched his way towards his desk to find it not in a cubicle, but positioned in front of an office. Diego looked back at the name plate and cursed himself and the world upon seeing Randal's name etched on it.
Diego did his day's tasks as silently and quickly as he could. Everything came to him right away and he was able to pick up exactly where he would have been the day before if DeeDee's life was his own. His fingers danced across the keyboard at speeds he wasn't capable of before and he effortlessly assembled reports as if this was his own reality. On any trip across the floor, he did his best to hide his cleavage behind stacks of papers or folders but he still caught enough eye rolls from his female coworkers and grins from the men that soured him on his new position. He wanted to fight back against the changes to him but mentally recoiled any time he felt the slightest twinge of the headaches that accompanied the repeating of the day's loops and the changes that came with that. He was thrust into this role and was unsure of how far he could push it, so Diego was forced to play it safe.
Towards the late afternoon, Diego's desk phone buzzed to life with a familiar and much appreciated identification.
"Sally! So good to hear from you!"
A laugh greeted him on the other end of the line. "Your day has been that good, eh? Hey, I'm about to head out. You feeling better? Need me to pick anything up from the store?"
Diego thought through his requests but everything he could think of might trigger another reset of the day. "N-No. I'm okay now."
"Sure thing, Vitamin D. Stay healthy and I'll see you at home. Lata'!"
Diego hung up and smiled. If he'd lost Sally through the loops, he didn't think he'd have been able to hold it together. He was snapped back to reality by the sound of something he wish he had lost.
"My Ds! I need you in here."
Diego bit his tongue. "Coming, Randal."
Diego gathered a notepad and pen and tried to get as much coverage out of his clothes as he could before entering Randal's office. Randal grinned and closed the door before returning to his chair and holding up a folder.
"Thanks, doll. I totally need this report for tomorrow's presentation to the big dogs. Think you can handle it?"
Diego could barely hold back his snide remarks. Apparently, the way to make Randal even less tolerable was to promote him to a position of power. Diego just nodded rather than risking a verbal reply and Randal tossed the folder towards him but it went wide and flopped to the floor. Diego bit his tongue once more and bent over to pick it up. As he grabbed it, he felt Randal's hand cup his behind and pull him in with a squeeze.
"You're a wonder, doll. What would I do without you?"
Diego reached back and opened his mouth, but froze at the last second. What if this was another test of his curse... If he yelled back or stormed out, it could disrupt the day and start another loop. The next one could be even worse. Could he even-
Seeing Diego's hand outstretched and mouth partially open, Randall reached out for his assistant's hand and pulled her in close for a kiss. Diego was shocked into rigid silence for who knows how long, but once he finally processed what just happened, he snapped to attention and kneed Randal in the shin. Diego had shot for the crotch but his aim wasn't 100% there with his new body and the heels. He shoved Randal against the door, popping it open and leaving him stumbling out onto the office floor.
Diego's head was throbbing in pain, but he put everything he had into a good right hook before the headaches disoriented him beyond control. He stumbled back against the wall and before the white flashes overtook him, the last thing he heard were a few gasps from the cubicles and at least one person laughing as Randal hit the ground.
The mechanical buzz of his alarm clock woke Diego and he shuddered up with a start. He slapped the alarm clock to silence it and moaned as he felt the extremes of his enhanced figure straining against his stretched night clothes. He looked down and could barely see past the rise of his chest, so he had to run his hands down his side to feel the curve of his hips. There was no need to test his backside because he could already feel the heft and wobble of his behind just from standing up. Diego looked in the mirror and saw his gorgeous face looking back, framed in waves of lustrous mocha hair. Even though he only just got out of bed, it looked like he had come right from the salon. Even his lips had an unnatural color and sheen to them that made it look like he was wearing lipstick.
Continuing his cursed routine, Diego quickly checked the outfit he had hanging up and it was now nothing more than a black mini skirt and a tied-off blouse with a plunging neckline. Instead of his work shoes, multiple pairs of stiletto heels lined the wall and makeup kits were arranged along the dresser. Even his degree had changed once more. The frame was now a muted pink and the certificate inside adorned with gold foil. Diego scanned it once more and saw that DeeDee was now the proud graduate of a beautician school. He tossed it onto the dresser without a word and looked down to the ground. Sure enough, his pen was laying by the door to trip him. He bent down, at the knees this time after learning his lesson at the end of the last day's loop, and placed it on the dresser as well.
Sure enough, Sally was in her prescribed spot at the table.
"Morning, sunshine!" Sally greeted him with a raised spoon. "News said it was going to be a hot one. If you want some cereal, get it quick before I go for bowl two because we're almost out of milk. I can grab some when I go to the office."
Diego nodded and went to the counter grab a bowl.
"Cool. Hey, hurry up already. I want to go with you to the gym today. Taking advantage of your guest pass. Mooooching!"
Diego stopped. "Do you think we can skip the gym today? I kind of want to head straight to work."
Sally put down her magazine and smiled. "Sure thing, hun. Nervous about the new girl?"
He was nervous about what shame the Universe was going to put on him after the last reveal. Although, it couldn't get much worse than being Randal's assistant. Diego quickly ate his breakfast, showered and got ready for the day, squeezed into the tiny outfit he had hanging up, and returned to the door. He waved bye to Sally on the way out.
"I'm just going to walk over now. See you later."
Sally laughed and got up off the couch. "Yeah right you are. C'mon, I'll give you a lift."
She walked by, grabbed her keys from the counter, and playfully bopped Diego on the nose as she headed out. If they were headed out and needed to drive, DeeDee could have been relocated anywhere in the city... Diego was happy to be free from his old company, but didn't trust his curse to not assign him to a strip club or sleazy bar at this stage of the loops.
Sally was her usual chatty self on the ride over. Diego tried to listen intently for clues about DeeDee's new life but he was distracted by the movement and bouncing of his own body every time the car hit a bump. After about a dozen or so blocks, Sally pulled into a space in front of several small boutiques. Diego looked up to see a large pink sign for "DeeDee's Deelights". He quickly scanned the storefront to see several signs announcing an anniversary sale and discounts on the coming Fall colors. Sally reached over and shocked him back to attention with a kiss on the cheek.
"See? The new manager didn't burn the place down, she did fine. And you know... Now that you have more help around the shop, you should have more free time. I'll swing by for lunch and we can... enjoy the day."
Diego nodded silently. Was this the change DeeDee had brought into his life? He owned a business now. And Sally... Well, it would explain why there was never any romantic tension between the two friends back when he was Diego... He stood transfixed as Sally closed the car door, gave him a wave, and pulled off back onto the street and around the corner.
Diego looked up at his pink sign again. He wanted to continue along on this loop and see where it took him. Maybe his expansive curves were the price he could pay for a fulfilling job and to see where he and Sally would wind up together. Diego felt a sense of acceptance and that a calmness had fallen over him and the world around him. His head felt...clear. Free from the threat of defying this loop and having the Universe yank him out of it.
Diego strode into the shop and was greeted by a dingling, happy bell. A young woman looked up from her tablet and the makeup kits she was arranging along the displays.
"Morning, ma'am! What do you think of the new display? I worked on it last night and it really seemed to draw people over to the new line. Last night's sales were great and I'm not going to say it was all the new display but-"
Diego smiled. "It looks fantastic. The way the colors play off each other really draws the eye. Great choice. I like it."
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Read more Mercynaries comics and stories at: http://www.sincomics.com/ddg.php
Miserabelle
A Mercynaries Story from SinComics.com
Martin stoked the fire and sighed back into his phone. "I know, Clancy. I'm past the deadline, I know. We go over this with every book... Yes, it should be a concern this happens with every book... Yes, I'm terrible, Clancy... Yes, I know that's not what you meant... Yes, I know Cammy and I are superstars and these books have made us all rich... Okay, talk to you when I've made progress. That's why I'm out here in the middle of nowhere with the skiers, trees, and yetis... Yes, I know yetis probably aren't real. Goodnight, Clancy."
Martin sighed and tossed the phone back onto the cottage's bed. He'd been in the mountains for two weeks now and the ideas weren't flowing as well as he hoped. The plan was that getting out of the city would push him through his writer's block, he'd finish this book, and then he'd be free. Martin knew he was really the cause of the problem. He'd been writing the "Noire Gale Nurse" series for at least a decade now and it was time to finally end it. This couldn't be just another book, he had to make it an event. Did he kill off Gale? Did she retire peacefully? Did she stay at the hospital or the detective agency? Why was this stupid franchise the only thing he'd ever written that audiences would pay for?! He plopped down into the chair and woke up his laptop yet again to face the blinking cursor on a novel with barely two pages of notes and an outline. He'd warned his friends to not expect to hear from him in a long time. He was going to stay at the cottage, cut off from the world, until he either finished this book or he wandered off into the woods and abandoned society. Clancy would still probably find him living among the wolves and yell at him about the deadlines. Martin faced the fire and rubbed his hands again. Once this book was done, he'd be going on a nice, long vacation someplace warm.
After another hour of tapping back on forth on the keyboard, Martin pushed the chair back from the table. Supplies! Going out for supplies would get his blood flowing and brain working again. He snatched his keys off the table and headed out to the car, still trying to convince himself that this was about being prepared for a snowstorm and not that the ride to town would give him an hour or so where he didn't have to think about the book.
Martin pulled the car into the parking lot at the outskirts of the small town. It was an old fashioned place where the streets were reserved for pedestrians so there was no driving through the town. He slammed the car door and pulled his coat tight against the brisk wind. Martin stepped out of the lot and immediately felt an intense bolt of pain move from his foot up his leg. He reeled back, his arms flailing for something to grasp, and he slammed down on his coccyx. After a torrent of curses through gritted teeth, Martin looked around and was thankful nobody was there to see that. The patch of ice he was now sitting on started to soak through his jeans and he tried to get up off the ground. The pain returned in his ankle and he fell back down. With the way this day was going, it was probably broken. He slowly rose, placing all his weight on his other leg, and steadied himself. He winced again as he started to walk. This would require more care than the bottle of wine he was planning on buying could offer. Thankfully, he knew where the hospital was. He'd made it a note to always visit the hospitals of towns he visited so he could snag a few details for the next book. Maybe he could write off this visit on his taxes if he claimed a broken ankle was a business expense for research purposes.
Martin sat with his leg up on another chair in the waiting room. He was the only one in the room, but that wasn't out of the ordinary for a town this small. Heck, you'd be hard-pressed to even call this place a real hospital. It must have been built centuries ago, more an over-sized log cabin than a proper home of medicine. As he stared around and admired the old world craftsmanship, a middle-aged woman appeared from a room in the back. She was small town plain but carried herself with as much gravitas as any doctor in the city.
"Sorry about the wait, Mr. Martin! There are so many boxes of medicines back there and we don't really see much traffic through here."
Martin gave a barely polite laugh and reached out for the bottle of painkillers in her hand. "That's quite all right. Now if we could just-" He reached out again and the nurse stood at attention.
"Oh, right!" She spun the top off the bottle and shook two pills into Martin's waiting hands. "Let me get some water for you. Those should take the immediate edge off." She hurried off and quickly returned with a small paper cup full of cold water and Martin gulped it down.
"You're a lifesaver..."
"Jennifer! My name is Jennifer. If you wouldn't mind, I need to check your foot." She gently removed his shoe and Martin sucked in air through his teeth. "Oh, dear..." His ankle was already red and swollen to an unnatural size. "That's going to have to come off."
"WHAT?!" Martin bolted upright, jostling his leg, and wincing in pain again.
"J-Just the sock! I didn't mean- You thought-" She nervously laughed.
"And you're sure there's not a doctor hidden back there?"
"Quite sure. It's just me through the weekend. The doctor is off on a hunting trip and-"
"How many more of those pills can I take?"
The nurse laughed again and moved to help Martin stand. "You're a funny guy! Let's get you to a room"
Martin wasn't sure if it had been a few hours or just a few minutes, but Jennifer finally returned to his room. The whole world felt fuzzy and he was happier than he'd been in months. "S'pills are great, Jennfer."
She giggled as she finished prepping his medicine. "You're a bit of a lightweight, Mr. Martin." She plunged a needle into his ankle and swabbed the area after finishing the injection.
"M'notta lightweight! Dinn't feel a thing."
"Of course. I'm just going to sit here with you for a while. It's okay to fall asleep and let the medicine do its work." She hoisted herself onto a stool next to the wall and removed a small book from her coat pocket. Even in his medicated state, Martin recognized the cover. 666 CCs of Intrigue. It was one of his first books.
"Prolly shouldnt say, but that's mine."
Jennifer looked around the room to see if he'd dropped something before she noticed he was pointing at the book. "Oh no, dear. This is my book. If you have one in your coat, it's still there. I don't think you're in much condition to read right now though."
"No no nonono. Your book. I wrote it."
She eyed him curiously. "You like 'Noire Gale Nurse' too? It's my favorite! But... the author is Cammy Foxe. Did you mean you're a publisher?"
Martin whipped his head back and forth as best he could to say no. "S'a pen name. I wrote 'em all."
Jennifer closed her book and clutched it tightly. "The author is Cammy Foxe. She started the series after her hospital was shut down and she was laid off. I don't want to call you a liar in your state, but... Look, there's even a picture of her on the back." Jennifer held out the book and pointed at the smiling blonde woman on the back. Martin giggled in his haze. Jennifer defensively pulled the book in tight and wrapped her arms around it.
"She's a model. Lookit, look at my phone. Pictures from the las' release party."
Jennifer pulled his phone from his coat pocket and opened the photo gallery stored on it. After a few scrolls, she came across multiple pictures of Cammy smiling and sharing drinks with the man sharing the hospital room with her. She frantically scrolled through the gallery and saw multiple shots of Martin taking selfies at a publisher's office, a printing press, with mock-ups of cover art she held dear. Jennifer quickly turned off the phone and placed it on the table.
"She's really really nice. Friend of Clancy. Nice lady. Imma end the series."
Jennifer gasped and bolted to her feet, knocking the stool over with a clatter. "You what?!"
Martin grinned. "Las' book. I'm free!"
Jennifer's fingers trembled as she clutched her chest. "Cammy would never- You can't end 'Noire Gale Nurse'! Gale is an inspiration. It's- It's the most important literature of the modern-" Martin guffawed, his inhibitions gone thanks to the magic of painkillers. Jennifer stomped her foot and composed herself. "Gale has barely had time to decide which relationship to continue! Malorey the oncologist or Sebastian the chief of police, she- They both love her!"
Martin laughed and slapped his forehead. "Names are so dumb."
Jennifer tore through the medicine cabinets in the room and quickly prepared another needle and jammed it into Martin's shoulder. "Cammy would never end the series! I can- I can fix this..." Martin's vision blurred and he slipped further into sleep. Each time he blinked, his eyes were closed for longer and longer. The last things he saw was Jennifer furiously returning to the room with jars of strange chemicals.
Martin groggily shuddered awake. He could hardly move, but his vision returned slowly. Sounds were muffled like he was underwater and his mouth burned with a sharp, unnatural citrus taste. His head flopped to the side and he saw a multitude of needles inside his arm and leading up to IV drips. A faint beeping reached his ears and echoey footsteps finally became clear as he saw a figure enter the room and approach the side of his bed. It reached down for his pulse and he turned away as it shined a bright light in his eyes.
" -r me? I asked if you can hear me?"
Some nonsensical syllables spilled out of Martin's lips.
"Good good! The patient is finally awake. Your injury was most severe and you needed a lot of work done. You've been out for quite a while, so try to relax. These chemicals can take a lot out of you."
Memories started to slowly bubble up in Martin's mind. He was writing. Then driving. He fell. His ankle, that's what it was! He leaned forward to reach for his leg, but everything about his body felt wrong. Everywhere was like pins and needles and he struggled to sit upright. He felt a weight tug him forward more and a heft on his chest. He grunted and his voice was wrong. He must have been out for a long time for his throat to feel so raw from not speaking. He gently shook his head but it felt like boulders were rattling around inside. Suddenly, the world became dark and he couldn't see. In a panic, Martin waved his hand in front of his face and faint bits of light shone through. There was something on his head. He yanked at it but felt a sharp pain on his scalp. Grimacing, he swatted the obstruction aside, only for it to float back in front of his eyes. It was yellow. Blonde.
"Careful there, Miss Foxe. You still need lots of rest before you're back to normal. I'll take care of you though. I can make you all better."
"F-Foxe? I told you-"
"Oh I know what you told me! The hateful lies you made up! The horrible things you said about Gale!" Jennifer took a deep breath and smoothed out her skirt. "Ahem. I heard what you told me and I knew that Cammy Foxe, the REAL Cammy Foxe, would never speak like that, so I just- I just had to make Cammy Foxe."
Martin frantically patted himself down. The blonde hair on his head, the weight on his chest, the strangeness in his voice, the pins and needles over his body, and the chemicals being pumped into him!
Jennifer grinned as she admired her work. "The chemicals are a bit rough, but they do an excellent job." Martin spun around, shook his head to clear the fog, and grasped at the needles in his arm. Jennifer grabbed his hand and pinned it down. He was took weak to fight back and the strain wore Martin out quickly. "Cammy, please. Calm yourself." She placed his arm on the side of the bed and pulled out the straps. After securing his arms and legs, she rifled through the cabinet on the wall and prepared a needle. Martin couldn't even feel it jab into his shoulder or the new batch of chemicals pumped into him. "Maybe you need some more time, dear." The corners of his vision started to blur and Martin passed out into sleep once more.
Martin woke with the sun in his eyes. He groaned, still too weak to move much but he was able to look over his undeniably female body. Breasts pushed against the hospital gown and his hips jutted out from where it was loosely tied. He collapsed back onto the pillow and had to brush back the strands of blonde hair that fluttered into his eyes.
Breathing became easier as time passed and Martin adjusted to the changes and new feelings that came with his body. He propped himself up against the headboard and groaned as he looked at what had happened to his body. The tubes were no longer connected to his arms, but the damage was done. Footsteps softly echoed on the wood flooring and grew louder as his captor came closer.
"Gooood morning, Cammy! I thought I heard you waking up. You look nice this morning!"
"Don't call me that." Martin grumbled in his now delicate tone.
Jennifer walked over and gently patted his blonde locks. "I'd heard that artists were temperamental. Let's get you something to eat!"
"You won't get away with this! Somebody will find out where I am."
The nurse laughed and gave him a quick hug. "Of course they won't, dear. I was the only one that saw you that day and I removed your records from our system. It's a small town, so I have access to everything and nobody goes snooping around. I have the whole week off so it's just you and I together. We'll have fun." She left Martin to stew and he heard the footsteps move down the hall again.
Several minutes later, Jennifer returned with a small tray of food, set it on the table by the bed's side, and sat next to Martin. "Your medicine does wonders, but it takes a bit out of you. We have lots of fat and sugars to help replenish what you lost. Eat up!" Martin glared at her but she just smirked and and picked up the cup of pudding herself. "Don't worry, as a nurse, I have experience helping patients eat if they can't do it themselves." She propped open his mouth and shoved a spoonful of the dessert inside. Martin was still too weak to fight her, so he caved and weakly reached out for the cup himself. "Thatta girl!"
"How are you doing this? Why!?"
"Modern medicine is quite amazing, even for us folk in small towns. We typically use small doses of your medicine to help people after reconstructive surgery or skin grafts, that sort of thing. But, like I said, it's a small town so we don't need to use it much. Lucky for you, we keep it around and the old supply stays effective."
Martin grasped the pudding cup but was too weak to crush it. "Why..."
"After the hurtful things you said when we first met, I knew I had to help you see the light and make amends for the awful, awful things you said. The Cammy I know would never say that about Gale. She knows how important Gale is to all nurses everywhere. To all readers everywhere!"
Martin gritted his teeth. "There is no Cammy! The books aren't important, they're just dumb pulp novels that bored people buy because it's easy to read and has sex and violence in it."
Jennifer reeled back as if she had been physically struck. "Cammy would never speak like that! I can't let you end this series. I'm going to help you and we'll save Gale together!" She gathered herself and quickly shuffled out of the room, leaving Martin to eat in silence.
The days passed and Jennifer proved her power over the situation. Martin was quick to rebel in whatever small manner he could, but this was met with more injections and his meals spiked with drugs to keep him groggy and compliant. By the end of the first week, Martin's figure matched that of the model hired to stand in for Cammy Foxe's author pictures and he resigned himself to the chemical prison Jennifer was keeping him in. He finally caved and agreed to whatever she wanted him to do.
Jennifer gleefully hurried back to Martin's room carrying a laptop. His first instinct was to check it for a Wi-Fi signal, but nothing was detected. Once the machine was propped up in front of him, Jennifer clapped her hands and jumped up and down, barely containing her joy.
"Oh goody! Cammy, you and I are going to write the next masterpiece in Gale's journey! Obviously, we'll just put your name on it, but we'll know I co-wrote it. We'll know!"
Martin stifled all the ways he really wanted to respond and looked over at the nurse. "What do you want to do?"
Jennifer excitedly paced the room. "I think we should take a look back at Gale's adventures against the rogue mortician in Mexico from BurriToe Tags. It just didn't feel completed when he was arrested. The electrocutions had to have involved other people. I think there are people out there still looking for Gale!"
"Really? You think the ending was setting up a secret cabal with the mission of taking down a nurse detective?"
"Oh yes, exactly!" Jennifer rushed back over to Martin and hugged him. "You're SUCH an amazing writer. It's like we're on the same wavelength!"
Martin winced from tight hug and from thinking over the torture that writing this terrible book would be. He'd never hated Gale more than he did right now. He'd come to terms with selling out his artistic pride years ago because the pay was good but now that it had intruded into the real world and distorted his own body, he wanted no part in it.
"The ideas! They're just flowing!" Jennifer shuffled back and forth, waving her hands and grinning. "This must be how you feel all the time! You just HAVE to get Gale's stories out into the world!" Martin gave her a halfhearted smile back and started poking around the word processor. Jennifer looked over at the clock and gasped. "Oh, Cammy, I know we have work to do, but I have to go." Martin's eyes lit up. "I have to put in a shift at the hospital today. And it will gives us a chance to stock up on your medicine. You know, if the bad thoughts come back." He shrunk back as she approached. Jennifer leaned down at the edge of the bed and pulled up the straps. She tightly fastened them around his legs and Martin winced when she wrapped it around his ankle. There was a dreadful click as the straps were locked closed. Jennifer repeated the process around his thin waist and looped a cuff around his left arm before locking it to the bed. "Write well! I'll check up on you during lunch and breaks!" Jennifer hurried out of the room and Martin could hear her footsteps down the hall, a door slam, and then quiet fill the house.
Martin jerked his arm against the cuff but neither it nor the bed had any weak points. He yanked and clawed at the straps, but they were locked tight and showed no signs of giving way. Martin shuddered in anguish and held back his despair. He wiped his eyes clear and looked over at the blinking cursor on the laptop.
Jennifer arrived for her shift at the hospital flush and brimming with ideas. It was just a normal day shift but it would be hard to make it through knowing the contributions she could make to the world of literature. She bound towards the waiting room but quickly pressed against the wall when she saw two people talking to Bridget at the front desk. They didn't look familiar and they weren't dressed like locals. The redhead wore a puffy pink parka with purple tights. The blonde wore a mini dress accented by faux fur tufts at the skirt and sleeves and her heeled boots followed suit. She shivered and rapidly rubbed her arms for warmth. Served her right for dressing like that in winter. Jennifer dismissively scoffed at them, the kind of college kids that came up for a ski trip and got hypothermia or broke legs when going out at night drunk. She collected herself and strode into the waiting room. Bridget immediately waved her down.
"Jennifer! Oh, Jenny!"
Jennifer hid her worry behind a broad smile. "Morning, Bridget!"
"Jenny, these two ladies are from the... The... What was it again?"
The redhead nodded, her pigtails flopping behind her. "Medicine, Drugs, and Pills Agency."
Jennifer eyed her suspiciously. "Can't... say I've heard of that agency. Do you have-"
The blonde quickly interrupted. "We're here because we've been informed of a movement of large amounts of these medicines." She handed Jennifer a slip with hastily scrawled names on them. The nurse immediately recognized all of them as the items she needed to bring Cammy back to herself.
Bridget was flustered and motioned back and forth at Jennifer and the computer. "Y-You were the last one to take a delivery but the stock is fine and the inventory numbers are fine and-"
Jennifer composed herself and rose straight. She had obviously doctored the inventory to cover her tracks, and if Bridget didn't notice the change, everything would be fine. "Yes. I did inventory last week. The shipments were fine and we sent out the cases of expired medicine to the proper facilities." She turned and dismissively waved at the two new women. "Chemicals don't last forever, dears."
The redhead furrowed her brow, taking umbrage at the nurse's attitude. "Our sources say that-"
The blonde grabbed her partner's arm. "She said everything is fine. False alarm. Now can we get the hell out of here, I'm freezing!"
The redhead gave Jennifer one more look and turned the door. "We'll contact you for more information later." She pushed the blonde forward and the two bickered as they left. Jennifer could barely hear them as they trailed off, "-Then learn to wear pants, you dope."
Jennifer smiled and gave an "ugh, out of towners" shrug to her partner and hung her coat up. She and Bridget went over the night's events (nothing happened, as usual) and the day's schedule (nobody and nothing, as usual). Jennifer went off to her rounds of tidying up for the sake of filling time, but in the back of her mind she was only thinking of helping Cammy create her story. Their story! This would be the biggest thing to happen to Jennifer!
At the end of her shift, Jennifer passed off the notes to the night crew and said her good-byes to the cleaning staff and lone doctor on schedule. As she walked through the town back to her car, she noticed an odd sight in the diner. They had new ridiculous outfits, but that redhead and the blonde were sitting at a booth having what appeared to be an argument as they waved papers at each other. Jennifer clutched her chest and sucked in her breath. Did they know? Were they actually from some kind of agency? She quickly shuffled off to the car, keeping close to the storefronts so she couldn't be seen from through the diner window.
Back at her house, Jennifer saw Cammy at her bed, still in the place after Jennifer left her there after her no doubt inspiring pep talk when she stopped by during her afternoon break. Martin looked up to see his captor and immediately bent towards the laptop and brushed away the lock of hair that fell down.
"Cammy! Cammy..." Martin was shocked at the tone of the nurse's voice. He hadn't heard her flustered like that before. "Did you... Was there any... Contact?" Martin cocked his head at the nonsense coming out of her. Jennifer saw his total confusion and calmed down. "That is to say, have you been a good girl today? Lots of writing?"
Martin glared at her with hate, but bit his tongue to not speak out. Jennifer stared back sternly. Only breaking contact when her eyes flickered to the vials and medicine bottles on the table. Martin followed her gaze and sighed. "Yes, lots of writing. Do you... want to read it?"
Jennifer squealed like a small child. "A sneak peek at the next 'Noire Gale Nurse' story?! Oh yes, yes, yes!" She snatched the laptop away from Martin and scurried out of the room. Martin sighed and leaned back on the pillows. Bound to the bed writing this drivel all day and having to put up with this at night...
An hour or so later, Jennifer returned clutching the laptop. "Beautiful, just beautiful! Didn't I tell you a beach trip was exactly what Malorey needed after losing the senator during surgery!?" Jennifer plopped down on the bed and rested her head on Martin's shoulder. We're such a good team."
The next day, Jennifer filed her end of day paperwork and laid things out for the afternoon staff. She was excited to reward Cammy for her hard work on bringing Gale's latest drama and adventures to life and had a special gift in mind. She rushed to the stores before heading home.
Jennifer burst through the door shaking the paper bag. "Caaa-myyy!" She tossed her coat and purse on the dresser and rushed to loosen the straps on Martin's bed. "You've been doing SUCH a good job that I wanted to get you a little special something."
"Freedom?"
Jennifer laughed heartily and pulled Martin up. "I know you big city gals are all about fashion so I got you..." She lifted up a blue satin dress and shook it out at Martin.
He backed away, but knew there would be no stopping her until he took it. It looked like something she stole from a 1950s housewife, but it would be nice to finally be done with the hospital gowns. Without a word, Martin held up his arms and Jennifer gleefully helped him change.
Once the dress was on, Jennifer immediately sat him down and started brushing his hair, prattling on about her day and the insane ideas she had for the book. Martin looked down the hall and thought of escape. He could maybe break free, but running on his bad ankle... And he'd freeze before getting to town if just wearing the dress. Martin was still trapped and at this mad woman's mercy.
At the end of the week, Jennifer ended her shift and stocked up on Cammy's medicines by slipping the bottles into her purse. She planned for a full weekend of writing and nothing was going to get in her way of making meaningful progress on the book. Cammy was already over halfway done with the book so this was where everything got serious. Jennifer wasn't quite sure of how long it took to write a book as fine as this, but everything just felt right. Another week or so to finish it, a little time to proofread, and it would be in readers' hands and shaping humanity by the end of the month.
Jennifer skipped to the parking lot, her heart full, when a horrible sight stopped her in her tracks. It was those two awful women that visited the hospital! The redhead had pulled the blonde in close and was rubbing her shoulders as she looked over some paperwork. They motioned to one of the shops, the market, and walked down the street. Jennifer held her breath tight and hurried past them as quickly as she could without being suspicious. Did the redhead glance at her when she went by?! Jennifer shuffled to the car, threw her purse on the passenger's seat, and zipped her way home.
Back home, Jennifer unlocked the door to Martin's room and stormed over to him. "What did you do?! Who are they!?"
Martin immediately tried to back away but Jennifer kept advancing until he tripped back and landed on the bed. "Wh-What are you talking about?"
"The strange women in town! I've seen them. Oh, I've seen them! At the hospital! Asking questions!"
Martin beamed inside. Could help be on the way? Somebody to free him and take out this crazy lady! But he had no idea who they were and seeing Jennifer in this state was alarming. "I've been in this room all day! You locked me in, you had to unlock the door. I couldn't have been out!"
Jennifer paced back and forth, her eyes darting from the door to her prisoner and back. "You called them. I-I don't know how, but you called them. Nobody is going to take you away from me! Nobody is going to take Gale from me!"
Martin stayed on the bed, leaning back and accessing the situation and Jennifer's paranoia. She continued her rant. "All this time! I thought what we had was special. But no, you're not like Gale. You're not like Gale at all! You're... You're an Isabella!" Martin stared at her blankly, unsure of this advanced madness. "Isabella pretended to be Gale's friend too! But then... Then! In DieZygotic, Isabella betrayed Gale! Locked her in the bunker and tried to take over Gale's life. She betrayed Gale and tried to ruin her reputation! You're not like Gale, you're Isabella! Trying to ruin Gale's life! I'm- I'm the only one that can save Gale!"
Martin raised his hands with his palms out and did his best to talk soothingly. "Jennifer, you need to relax. Nobody called those women. Nobody wants to hurt Gale. Look, look at the laptop! We did lots of writing today! Why don't you sit down and go over what we-"
Jennifer stood up straight. "Yes, writing! That's the only way to save Gale!" She deftly grasped Martin's arm, pinned it to the desk, and jabbed the needle connected to the IV into his forearm. Martin yelped in pain and panic. "You're going to write! And finish our book!" She took the strap and tightened it around Martin's leg. He scrambled to pull the needle out, but Jennifer grabbed his left arm and strapped it down as well. After securing Martin, she went back to the desk and set up multiple IV bags with the medicine and chemicals from her purse. Martin wanted to plead with her, but he was caught in a state of panic and was unsure of what she would do in any second.
The nurse finished preparing the needles and calmly inserted two more into Martin's arm and hung the IV bags. "We're not going anywhere. We're going to stay and write. And write. And write and write..." Jennifer leaned in for a hug, her head on Martin's chest and sighed. "You're not going anywhere and I'm not taking your medicine out until we finish this book."
Over the weekend, Martin typed furiously as the medical poison pumped into his body. He swore he could actually feel it flowing into him, pushing outward, expanding him and making a mockery of his biology as it took control. Feeling his hips push outward and his chest puff up, Martin focused more and more on the book to get the sensations out of his mind and to work towards freedom. Jennifer never left his side and taped the needles down at night when he finally gave in to exhaustion and couldn't write anymore. She didn't even take the needles out while proofreading the chapters so Martin was left with only the sensation of his curves ballooning out while he watched her read.
Jennifer only agreed to remove the needles when Martin had sent the manuscript to his publisher. Under her careful watch, an email was drafted and the book was sent out to the world. Once he'd fulfilled his side of the captive bargain, Jennifer halted the flow of the poison and freed him from the tubes and needles. Martin sighed heavily, woozy from the sudden stoppage of chemicals flowing into his bloodstream, and collapsed back onto the pillows. Silently, Jennifer just leaned over him and hugged him tightly while he drifted off to a fevered sleep.
Rehabilitation Vacation was unleashed onto the world of print and the reviews flooded the sites. The book was critically panned, as all of the "Noire Gale Nurse" books had been, but the public ate it up and downloaded the new story in droves. Jennifer was ecstatic and read the book to Martin every night. He was given free roam of part of the house while under Jennifer's watch but continued to be locked in his room while she was away. Now that she had a taste of the world of the successful author, Jennifer's mind buzzed with exciting, new, and sexy adventures for Gale.
One evening, a knock came at the door and Jennifer hurried to the entrance. Martin sat, confined to his room, knowing that screaming for help would only bring punishment. Jennifer shouted back as she ran to the entrance, "It must be the next delivery of our novel! I ordered an extra shipment for signings!" As she swung open the door, Martin could hear a gasp and a shuffle out front. He rose from his seat but was too beaten down to move just yet. Once the yelling started, Martin shuffled forward. His ankle was better, but days of being confined to the bed had still left it weak.
"Out! Out! Get out, you awful-" Jennifer was raising a commotion and Martin heard the bang of something being thrown and striking the wall. He slunk forward more and peeked out into the open.
"There it is!" A strange blonde woman gestured to him while another woman in pigtails struggled with holding Jennifer's arms behind her back.
Martin's heart fluttered and he ran forward, ignoring the pain in his foot and jiggling everywhere else. He practically crashed into the blonde woman and embraced her tightly. "You're here- You're going to free me, right?!"
"Whoa, calm down. We're here for you, but relax with the hugging."
The redhead and Jennifer collapsed to the ground as the redhead finally pinned the nurse down by laying on top of her. "Ugh, at least he has a good excuse for being captured. Lady, stop squirming!"
"No!" Jennifer thrashed as best she could down on the ground. "You won't take my Cammy away from me! How did you find her!?"
The blonde gave him a sidelong glance. "'Cammy'?"
Martin sheepishly looked away. "It's a pen name, she thought I was... Look, she is CRAZY! But how did you find me? It was the coded messages, right?!"
The two women looked back and forth sheepishly. "Messages?"
Martin nodded frantically. "The chapter titles! The anagrams for clues on how to find me?" The two nervously looked away. "Then it was the codes in the first letters of the paragraphs. Each chapter had a-" The women hemmed and hawed. "So how did you..."
The blonde piped up first. "We just... kind of visited every house and store in the town and surrounding area until we showed up here. I mean, the hospital had all that chemical junk so we figured... Had to be somebody around here, right?"
"Sorry it took so long and all. Small town, but it's spread out and all so, ya know... And..." The redhead sheepishly trailed off.
Martin ignored the agents' less than effective methodology and was just thankful they finally came. "You can cure me, right? And what's going to happen to... her?"
The blonde eyed him up and down. "We can purge that. Might take some time and some trial and error, but we'll get there."
It was a less than soothing answer. Martin pointed at the nurse. "And her?"
The redhead clamped down on Jennifer harder. "She'll have plenty of time for writing... behind bars!"
The blonde glared while still looking at Martin and didn't bother to turn around. "Seriously, Mercy?"
"What? I thought it was a good cop shop one-liner. It works!"
"No, it doesn't. And at best we'll just get her for stealing the chemicals. We can't mention unlawful human transformations and-" She stopped and pointed at Martin. "You totally can't tell anybody about this." Martin nervously nodded. "So just for the theft, it will be a fine and probably a short sentence." She pointed back at Martin again. "So you should probably, like, never come to this town again." Martin aggressively nodded.
One of the agents tied up Jennifer while the other followed Martin to his room and collected all the remaining chemicals and medicines to take with them. Ruth mentioned something about an arm thing being capable of reverse engineering the chemicals and creating antidotes, but it was yet another oddity in a string of weirdness Martin had experienced and he let it go. They left enough incriminating evidence and placed a phone call to the police to pick up Jennifer and her stolen goods.
When the flashing lights were visible coming down the mountain road, the agents collected Martin and the chemicals and ushered him towards a glowing green door.
"It's almost a shame." Martin looked back at the crying nurse.
Ruth deadpanned back towards him. "What."
"It- It was my best selling book. I'm not sure I can end the franchise now. And to see what lengths my readers will go... Maybe I should keep writing to-"
Mercy scoffed. "Puh-lease. Your books suck and your boobs are probably too big to see the keyboard now anyway. Let's go."
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Read more Mercynaries comics and stories at: http://www.sincomics.com/ddg.php
Prince Of My Dreams
A Mercynaries Story from SinComics.com
Prince Liam looked up from his book as the royal courier ran into the room and over to the king. As they talked, the king grew more boisterous, loudly waving his arms in the air in celebration and unleashing deep belly laughs at the innocent worker. After heartily slapping the courier on the back, the king triumphantly strode over to his son.
"It's here, my boy, it's here!"
"Yes... Father?" Liam said, peeking out over his book.
"The invitation, young Prince! Oh I remember when I was coming of age and received mine. Good times! Made a real royal out of me. Why when I was a prince, my father..."
Liam knew he had to end the reminiscing quickly or they'd be there all day. "What invitation?"
The king waved the gilded card back and forth at his son. "For prince's training! It's only the most prestigious training for the selected sons that are kings to be! Every king has gone through it and now it's YOUR time! It makes you wise, stately, handsome, and will teach you the skills to woo your future queen!"
Liam closed his book and settled in. He loved his father as much as his father loved a stately ramble. Liam's mother was the only one able to politely and firmly interject to quiet him down, but after the Queen's passing, any worker unlucky enough to cross his path on a verbose day was caught in the crosshairs.
"- And that's why the dragons fear our lands, Boy! Back before ruling made me soft, I was a strapping lad. And your mother! Even to her last days she was as beautiful as the day we wed. Why that night, oh, we-"
"Father!" Liam bolted upright in his chair. "Dad, I think. I think I get it. Invitation, training, kingsmanship. When exactly does this training-"
"You're going tomorrow! I wouldn't have you wait another day!"
As promised, the royal carriage appeared at the crack of dawn to collect the prince. After some hearty back slaps to wake his son up, the king and the royal staff waved good-bye to the prince as the carriage entered the portal and they disappeared in a puff of magic.
The portal reopened in a pristine world under a bright blue sky, grass so green it was practically glowing, and with blue birds that sung a jaunty tune. The carriage rolled to a stop and the driver knocked to Liam. The prince thanked the man, grabbed his bag from the top of the cart, and hopped down onto the lush path leading to a radiant, opalescent castle. Liam and the driver waved good-bye as the carriage once more vanished through the portal home.
Liam smoothed his overcoat and fixed his hair before knocking on the bright red doors leading inside the institute. The doors opened by themselves and Liam walked into a beautiful entrance hall complete with red carpets leading down every hall, floors so shiny they were almost mirrored, and a grand staircase under an enormous chandelier. After he finished gawking, Liam noticed the silence all around him. He lowered his head and noticed that every person inside was gawking at him as well. And they were all dressed in exquisite ballgowns. As Liam's head darted from person to person, without exception, every soul in the room as female.
Liam turned to see if there was a mistake, he had gotten off at the wrong portal, entered the wrong doorway, when a woman came bustling down the stairs and held her arms open wide. Her hair was done up in an elegant rococo updo and she wore the kind of pristine gown of a queen of great wealth, standing, and power. Liam immediately shrank back and bowed.
"I'm deeply sorry, Madame, I seem to have-"
"Liam, my dear, how wonderful you made it!" She embraced him tightly and spun him to her side.
"You... You know my name?"
"Of course, dear! Why we were just thrilled to see you accept our invitation! It's quite an honor."
"Madame, you- You run the prince's training?"
"Princess training, my dear. Enunciate! We can include some speech in your lessons."
Liam chuckled and shrank back, stopping the women in her tracks. "I- I see the problem here. My father, the king, he's getting on in years and his eyes- You can see how he'd read your invitation incorrectly if he was expecting another. I'm so very sorry to be a bother, but if you could just summon a carriage, I'll be on-"
The Headmaster pulled him back in a continued their walk forward, bringing the prince along as he shuffled his feet. "No, the invitation was quite clear and it was signed and accepted. It would be a scandalous horror and would tarnish this great institute if we were to send a charge back out into the wild untrained."
"Ma'am, you see the issue here. I- I am clearly not a princess."
She tutted and pulled him in tightly, with Liam bent between the curve of her skirt and puffy sleeves of her gown. "And that's why it's such an honor to have you. We try to expand our reach, but so many kingdoms turn us away or balk at our offer. But your fine king and I'm quite sure all the people of your kingdom will be pleased with our results."
She let Liam go and clapped her hands. The red doors at the entryway slammed shut, the women in the hall returned to their tasks, and a maid appeared behind them to take Liam's travel bag and scurry off down a hallway. Liam tried to follow, but the headmaster grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him away from the maid to face three women in green dresses that were approaching.
A beautiful brunette with the fairest skin curtsied and and nodded to the headmaster. "Yes, M'lady?"
"Dear Liam, these are the fellow members of your house. They will help you settle in, teach you the layout of our fine institute, and help you excel in your studies. Listen to them well and head their advice!"
The three curtsied once more and surrounded Liam. Their gowns bounced him forward and they shepherded him up the stairs and towards the heart of the castle.
Once their group was away from the rest of the students, the women stopped and circled around Liam. He instinctively peddled back, but bumped up against the gown of the black-haired one. Combat training was a part of his royal studies, but without a weapon and three against one, he wasn't sure how far he'd get. If there even was a way out of the castle. The brunette advanced forward and then Liam was hugged on all sides.
"Ooooh! We're so proud of you!"
Liam reeled and struggled against their surprisingly tight grips. It was a cage of shiny hair, frills, and silk.
"We know this is probably going to be really scary for you, but you're making a big step! And as your guides, we're going to be here with you every step of the way!"
Liam stopped struggling and tried another route. "I'm sure this is extremely awkward for you. Having a man forced into your group, and all. So the sooner we get rid of me, the sooner you princesses can get on with your... training?"
The redhead ruffled his hair. "Oh shush. Why would a silly little thing like that bother us? You'll do great! We know all the ins and outs of being princesses, so you couldn't get a better team. I'm Rose!"
His captors finally let him go and the three bowed to him. The brunette took his hand and led him down the hallway and up another staircase. "Clover, at your service. We are all soon to be queens of our respective kingdoms. We're at the end of the program but our dear mothers haven't started the process of succession yet or the kingdom isn't ready for a transfer of power."
The black-haired woman nodded. "Dahlia, dear. My land is just leaving a protracted war against the denizens of the deeps, so my coronation has to wait until repairs are underway. That's why the headmaster lets us stay, continue our studies, and help the new members."
They arrived at a golden door and shoved Liam through. It was some kind of living quarters decked out in hundreds of ribbons and frilly banners. A plush pink carpet covered every inch of the floor. Mirrored desks and storage cabinets were stationed in every corner and huge plush pillows stood in for chairs that the princesses in their gowns could use.
"This! Is our joint living quarters and the common area. Each of our rooms are through those doors. The freshen up rooms are over there. And all the cooking facilities are in the castle proper. Your room is all ready for you!"
Liam tried to dig his heels into the carpet, but he was pushed forward by the gaggle of surprisingly strong princesses. "Please don't-"
The ladies motioned to the room, awash in pastel greens. A canopy bed sat in the middle with the rest of the room lined with closets.
Rose waved to the bed. "Take a seat, love! This is your space! We usually do our studying and primping in the common area, but you can make this place home. It's fully stocked just for you!" She skipped over to a closet and pulled out a pale green dress. It was a simple ankle length affair made of a soft, shimmering material with a white ribbon drawstring around the waist. She laid it out on the bed and gestured to it.
The brunette grinned ear to ear. "All the new members start simple, but you'll work your way up to something nicer once you settle in. It lets everybody know that you're starting out and they'll cut you some slack."
The three women stared at Liam. Politely keeping quiet but darting their eyes between him and the dress. He stifled a chortle and stared back.
"You can't possibly think... This is ridiculous."
Dahlia expressed her concern. "Everybody wears the same starter dress."
Liam grumbled. "I have tried to be polite and explain about the misunderstanding but I'll be thanking you and having my leave. Good day, ladies."
The redhead blocked the door and the trio clucked their tongues in the kind of disapproval saved for a small child or a puppy.
"We were tasked with preparing you and we shall not be derelict in our duties."
Liam mockingly clucked back. "And I shall be free of this lunacy. Now move or I shall-"
Clover cut him off. "We will be courteous and kind as princesses are, but if you cannot follow the most basic of rules, we shall be forced to commune with the headmaster."
That cut through Liam and gave him pause. There was something cold and powerful behind that woman's cheery exterior. Just the threat of angering her sent a shiver down his spine. Before he could think much more, the princesses surrounded him and worked in a flurry. Within seconds, his overcoat was unbuttoned, striped off, and thrown out of the room. As they moved to his buttons and belt, Liam shrugged them off and tried to compose himself.
"All right! All- All right. If that is the rule of your kingdom, I will- abide... until I can contact my people and arrange transport home."
The three nodded with one forceful bob and fluttered out of the room. The door slammed shut and tightly braced, signaling there was only one way out. Liam plopped down on the bed and grimly assessed the surroundings. He would be having a very serious conversation with his father very shortly. And possibly looking into having some caretakers assembled for the old man.
Liam folded his clothing and placed it on the bed before slipping on the dress. It was even softer than it looked and had a fresh, invigorating, almost citrusy perfume to it. After a hesitant knock on his door, it swung wide open and the trio poured in. The brunette grabbed his old clothes and handed them off to a maid that disappeared out the door before Liam could even get a word out as the other two pulled him into the common area and plopped him onto one of the cushions.
Dahlia sat down next to him while Rose moved to the back of the room. "Your classes will start tomorrow. But they're ever so much fun. Everything a good and proper queen needs to rule rightly."
"I- I have been preparing to take over as king already. I've been studying the laws, procedures, and-"
"Great! Sounds like you're a natural princess then. There's lots of activities too. You'll have such a good time!"
Rose returned with a dark green rectangular box and pulled out a white ankle-length boot. She expertly slipped it onto Liam's foot despite his attempts to pull away. It slipped on with a crack and a snap.
Liam recoiled. "What are you- Ow!"
"It's fine, dear. I just noticed... Your posture, it needed work."
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His feet were forced to point down in the new heels. Liam tugged at them and ripped at the snap, but they gave no signs of loosening in the slightest. Dahlia and Rose propped him up and guided him over to one of the desk with a mirror. Clover rifled through the cabinet beside it and placed an array of bottles and tubes on the desk.
Without a word, the three went to work in a flurry of creams and lotions and powders and paints. If Liam so much as twitched, one of them was there to hold his head still and prop him up as the others continued their task. They soon stepped back and presented their handiwork to the mirror.
Liam felt like they had slathered him with bottles worth of gunk, but upon seeing his reflection, it was a tasteful and expertly applied job. The contouring made him question if that was even really his own face. The makeup tingled and his lips felt tight under the paint, but when Liam went to wipe it away, a green gloved hand caught his and forced it back to his side.
"Don't smudge it, love."
As the trio admired their work, a bell rang out in the hall. Clover clapped her hands. "Oh! Dinner time! I was so wrapped up, I lost all track of time."
The princesses gathered their new charge and formed a circle around him as he took his awkward, short steps in the new boots. They finally made their way to a dining hall lined with princesses grouped by colored dresses. Liam hid his face in embarrassment, but they paid him no special mind as the food was served.
The headmaster made her way up and down the table, silently watching over her princesses. She worked her way down to Liam's end of the table and stopped to watch him. Seemingly pleased with his regal manners and proper use of the silverware, she nodded politely and continued her patrol. Liam shuddered to think what would have happened if he was less cultured.
After the meal, the group returned to their wing and had the freedom to relax for the evening. Liam spent his time sitting on the edge of his bed telling himself that soon a courier would come and a carriage would be sent. As the lights dimmed, the princesses wished him a good night's rest but stayed adamant in their order that he wear his boots at night to help him acclimate faster.
The next morning, Liam awoke groggy and weak. He felt as if he hadn't slept at all and his whole body was worn down. He pushed away the plush sheets and swung his legs off the side of the bed before tottering forward on the heels and catching the wall to support himself. He grumbled inwardly but lifted a leg to rub his ankles. The girls were right, he was getting used to the boots quickly and the discomfort was practically gone.
Out in the common area, the trio were already primping for the day at their stations. Clover gave him a joyous wave as she finished her mascara. "Hello, Princess Sleepyhead! Why don't you freshen up while we finish here. Then we can help you get ready for the day!"
Liam shuffled off to the bathroom without a word. The room was tiled floor to ceiling with pastel pink and a brilliantly shining silver shower. Liam stepped inside and had to admit that the stream of hot water felt wonderful. It too was perfumed and had a pinkish hue, but it was an invigorating scent. Liam grabbed at the unlabeled bottles, trying to find a simple soap, but had to settle with experimenting with several lotions that bubbled up under the hot water.
The prince returned to the common area wearing the over-sized fluffy green bathrobe they had left for him and his watchers gave him a pleased nod. Dahlia was still brushing her hair and pointed gracefully back to his room. "We laid out the day's outfit for you. Let us know if you need any help, dear."
Liam silently trod back to his room to find silken underwear gently spread out, a new green dress hanging up, and some of frilly underskirt waiting for him. He thought briefly of tossing them back in the closets but accepted he had nothing else and he was sure his captors would check for any missing parts of the outfit. The skirt bobbed and swished against his legs as he tied it on. After slipping on the dress, the combination now had the dress puff out and gave him a feminine silhouette. Liam forcefully mashed the dress down, but it immediately puffed back out.
Rose let out a coo when she saw her charge in his dress before plopping him down at his station and getting to work with the day's makeup and paints. The process still left Liam a little disoriented and the ever-present sweet fruity perfumes clouded his nose. With the breakfast bell ringing, the trio finally stopped their pampering and led him back into the castle.
When the meal was over, Clover collected him while the others swished off to other parts of the institute. "It's time for your first class! Don't worry about any little thing, I'm sure you'll do just fine and have lots of fun!" She locked her arm around his and led him through the twisting halls of the castle. With a kiss of the cheek, the brunette gently shoved Liam into the class.
There was a smattering of other ladies in similar outfits of different colors and at the front of the room stood a gorgeous woman in a full ornate ballgown. She curtsied to the class, distributed books, and started her lesson without even the slightest hint that Liam's presence was out of the ordinary. He had hoped to find some sense among the staff, but it looked increasingly more difficult.
The course was nothing more than basic teachings of royalty and governance, things Prince Liam had been tutored on since he was old enough to speak. While looking over a short quiz the class was given, his teacher beamed and stroked his hair. "Well aren't you a treasure! I'll recommend you for the advanced placement. You keep this up and you'll be the star pupil in no time."
Rather than malice or jealousy, the rest of class turned to Liam and gently clapped and grinned in most princess-ly fashions. Liam sunk into the chair, causing the dress to poof up around him. The only thing hiding his bright red face was the generous application of makeup.
After class, Liam checked down the halls for his monitors. They were nowhere in sight, so he scurried down the halls, making short hopping strides in his heels. He tried his best to remember the route back to the entrance, but the castle was enormous and seemed to twist and fold back on itself. Between the ridiculous boots and the dress, he quickly tired and had to change strategies. Catching one of the institute's maids walking by, Liam rushed over to her and begged for a chance to send a message home. The maid politely listened to his ravings and then gave him a smiling assurance that such contact would simply not be possible and sauntered away. Liam slumped against the hall in despair but bolted to his feet when he saw the headmaster cross down the hall. She stopped briefly and nodded in his direction. The prince felt a chill once more, gathered himself up, and headed back to his room.
The subsequent days followed much the same schedule. Each morning, Liam was presented with an ever-increasingly frilly outfit. The dresses seemed to constantly be getting larger and poofier, with new frills and layers added each day. By the end of the week, getting dressed was a complicated affair of bodices, petticoats, gloves, stockings, and expanding skirts. His minders moved him to applying his own makeup and one painful morning involved ear piercings and the application of dainty pearl studs. Even freed of the makeup and dresses at night, Liam could hardly recognize himself. His hair grew longer and started to curl under the constant assault of lotions and sprays. The frivolous and frilly lifestyle left him looking soft and effeminate. Hours trapped in corsets, shapers, and boots had changed his posture and stance, sticking his chest and rear out, and leaving walking around without heels to be more uncomfortable than wearing them.
The only thing keeping Liam from sinking into depression was the constant flow of cheer and positivity forced his way every hour of the day. He excelled in the courses about ruling and royalty and was thus heaped with praise and shuffled off to more esoteric classes where he struggled, but was bolstered by the cooing praise of an endless flow of princesses and teachers. His time shifted away from books to tea parties, singing lessons, manners, and even time in the woods trying to master communication with the woodland creatures. The birds and deer seemed to be the only ones that recognized there was something different about the new student. The school even managed to twist the more frivolous teachings he had back home, a lesson he learned after receiving a swat in the bustle from his teacher when he tried to lead in the waltz. Princesses follow. Leading soothes the ego of the prince, so that's why they are allowed to do so.
Liam stared up at the frilly cover to his canopy bed that night and decided he couldn't take this anymore or let the charade continue. He flew through the closets to find a jacket to put over his nightgown, but upon finding nothing more substantial than a gauzy nightie with fur trim he gave up and would lather himself in mud to keep warm if he had to. Tottering forward in his heels even more, he slinked out of his room and through the door to the shared space. A quick survey of the hall revealed nothing lurking in the dim light. The plush carpeting hushed the clacking of his heels as he swiftly made his way down the halls, checking every corner and only moving when he was assured the route was empty. As he approached the grand staircase, his pace quickened and he scrambled for the door. Liam pulled at the door with all his might, kicking a leg up against the wall for more leverage, but it wouldn't budge in the slightest. Dejected, he steadied himself, leaning forward into the door. There would be back exits he could find or a window to leap out of, no matter how high up it was. As Liam turned around, he startled and pressed himself against the wall in horror and the stairs and doorways were now filled with the castle's maids. They stood unblinking and staring at him, three to five maids deep, blocking every potential exit.
The grouping on the stairs parted ways, as a blonde updo and grand ballgown split the blockade. The headmaster descended, slowly shaking her head side to side. She spoke slowly and stressed each word. "My. Dear. Princess."
Liam pressed himself against the wall as tightly as he could, but there was nowhere to hide as she daintily made her closer.
"You make us sad. And Miss Daisy will not be pleased." She reached out and gently gripped the back of his neck, but Liam was unable to shake her hold. She possessed and unearthly strength and led him towards a hallway. As the sea of maids parted for the two, the headmaster turned to one of them.
Fetch the Fairy Godmother."
Liam was plopped down into a plush chair in a small room. The walls and floor were thickly covered in a lush fabric. It seemed to absorb all sound in the room and gave the tiny space an intimidating, almost menacing air. After he had enough time to concoct visions and horrors in his mind, the door opened and a woman seemed to practically float in, her gown barely rustling or moving as she approached Liam. She reached into a small leather pouch at her hip, grabbed a handful of something inside, and sprinkled the dust through the air. With one breath, Liam was out.
The prince awoke an indeterminate amount of time later, groggy and his mind fuzzy. He was seated, but unable to stand or move. Something rigid but soft held his hand and feet to the throne he was held in. He shook his head to clear his mind and felt puffs on both sides of him bounce back and brush against his face. Liam looked down and saw nothing but the expanse of an enormous green dress covering his entire vision. It undulated and heaved with each movement, like a water balloon on the verge of bursting. Underneath, Liam could feel the ruffles and pressure of the frills that packed the dress to capacity. He wasn't even sure where his feet were in the giant ball of silk and satin. His hands barely popped out of the puffed sleeves and his face was framed by the ballooned shoulders. Even the slight movements he could manage sent waves of fluttering and bouncing through the prison of glamour.
A door behind him creaked open and the same woman silently floated around to his front. Liam was too afraid to speak and the woman moved quickly. With the flick of her wrist, she produced a thin wand with a star on the top and waved it back and forth in front of his face. Liam couldn't help but follow it with his eyes, entranced. He could just barely make out the thin smile on the woman's face before his mind burst with images of flowers and thoughts of bunnies and rainbows.
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Liam awoke once more in another room. He startled this time, but was still stuck to a throne. As he wobbled, strands of long, wavy hair floated past his face. Seated in the chair, he felt a more pillowy plumpness under him. Even the rise of the dress's bust swayed differently now, with more heft and a tug on him as it wobbled back and forth.
"You finally up?" A feminine voice sounded off to his side and Liam startled again. "Geez, you studied hard with her. Am I right, Nerd?" Despite her lilting tone, there was a gruffness and jocularity to her voice.
"Who's there?!" Liam shouted back.
"Violet. Stuck here in detention, same as you." Liam thrashed in his seat, getting the dress to bounce and wobble away from his face long enough to just barely make out a blue puff ball of a dress across the room. "You know, a princess would have the manners to introduce herself."
Liam felt a shudder of shame come over him. "S-Sorry. I'm Lilly. Lil-ly. Liiilly." The words tumbled out of his mouth as if he couldn't control himself fully. "Lilllllia. Lillliam. L-Liam!"
"Sounds like you've been under for awhile, love. Don't study up so hard, especially from the Godmother. What are you in for?"
"I tried to escape. Got caught at the front door."
Violet chuckled. "Not bad, Nerd. But an amateur mistake. They also catch you at the gates."
Liam was annoyed but also intrigued by this lady. "And you?"
"Started a fire in baking class. They didn't buy my story about it being a mistake. I flew too close to the sun." Liam laughed, despite the situation. "I like you, Nerd. Let's meet up when we're out of here. I'm feeling generous too. When the Godmother comes back, you need to switch your mind to something else to block our her magic. Pain will do it. Dig your nails into your palms, jam a toe, something."
"Th-Thanks. I'm tied down though, I don't know if I can-" He heard the door creak open and stopped immediately. In the few seconds before the woman approached, he jerked his head to the side and his shoulder up, ramming his pearl studs into himself. The pain coursed through his ear and face as the Godmother waved her wand once more.
Liam found himself propped up on one of the plush cushions of his quarters. He gasped and heard it as a delicate, breathy sound. His advisers surrounded him.
Rose leaned forward. "Oh, you look much better, dear. And are you feeling well?" The trio leaned in, intent but with a hint of monitoring, judging, in their gaze.
Liam nodded. "Y-Yes, I had a bit of a start. If you could just excuse me one-" He rose and tottered in a hurry to his room and over to the mirror. Staring back was a gorgeous young woman. The makeup alone had disguised him before, but now Liam barely recognized the woman in the green dress looking back at him. His hair had tripled in length, now down to his shoulders and with a pampered wave to it. Smooth feminine features graced his face with a plump, puckered set of lips in ruby paint. He patted the bust of the dress and was assured that the swell was not just the padding of the dress, but unnatural curves of his own.
"You do look ever so lovely." Liam inhaled deeply and swung around to see Clover at the door. She gracefully walked behind him, fluffed out his skirt and swept the strands of hair from his eyes. "Beautiful, no?"
Liam sheepishly nodded. "The dress is... very pretty."
Clover giggled and hugged Liam from behind, her dress pressing up against his own. "No, dear, you! Quite the princess you've become."
Liam knew he had to play along for his own safety. Adopting the role of Lilly, he did his best to blend in, politely agreed to any activity or outfit that came his way, and flashed vapid smiles to anybody that might report him back to the headmaster. It crushed his spirits and he spent his nights when alone desperately assuring himself that the nightmare would end soon. The headmaster seemed like she could appear anywhere and any break in the facade had to be played off as an accident or loss of thoughts, so Lilly gained the reputation of being a bit of a ditz.
He kept his eyes out for Violet, desperate to find a friend and confidant in the madness, but wasn't able to find her through her disguise. Violet was also playing the game and trying to blend in, but Liam knew nothing about how she looked outside of her being in the blue dress group. Having somebody to talk honestly to would have helped, but Liam soldiered on.
As the weeks passed, Liam was able to pass his courses and drag around dresses that weighed more than he did. Bearing a skirt that was wider than his arm span with a low cut bodice that put his bountiful cleavage on display for all, Liam curtsied and giggled his way through the graduation ceremony. The headmaster pulled him aside in front of the gaggle of princesses and waxed poetic about how Lilly's progress ushered in a new era for the institute and a return to an age of proper princesses. Liam was sure this was a final assault to get him to crack, so each giggle he returned was an attack on the system itself.
After the ceremony, Liam was overwhelmed by the flood of shrieks and hugs that came from his minders. The trio hugged and laughed and sang his praises. They exchanged good-byes and promises to meet up again in a few years for reunions. If Liam wasn't somewhat afraid of seeing them again, he'd look into what it would take to invade their kingdoms and burn them to the ground.
The portal opened and the institute's pink carriage pulled to a stop outside the castle grounds. The collected royal staff watched as the door opened by itself and a voluminous skirt rustled and fought its way through the narrow opening. Out popped a gorgeous woman just vaguely reminiscent of the former Prince Liam. Murmurs spread through the crowd and the King stepped forward.
"...Prince..." He stopped, threw his arms out, and rushed towards the woman. "My boy, you look divine! Training is a bit different than I remember, but if this is your choice, well then who is this old-"
Liam shuddered and months of tamped down anger flooded back. "Father, you doddering old fool! Choice!? Did you even read that invitation, you- Raaaurgh!"
The king just hugged his once-son harder and slapped him on the back. "There's plenty of time to tell me all about it!" He tugged his son's hand and pulled him back towards the castle as the staff applauded. The king motioned to the head maid and asked her to clean things up for the new princess and their eyes sparkled in frightening ways.
One maid delicately stroked Liam's shining hair and another pat his dress in wonder. "Oh, yes, my liege! We haven't had... ever since the dear Queen.... Oh it's a blessing to have a maiden in the castle once more!"
Liam felt cold as his father dragged him away from the giggling maids.
The following days saw Liam desperately fighting a losing battle as his room was cleared of his old belongings, snuck away from him every time he was grabbed for a fitting or royal pampering. His father's blithering acceptance and good cheer towards his new daughter infuriated the prince, but the king was too doddering and loving to lash out at. No matter how many reprimands where laid out to the royal staff, they continued to praise the new princesses. Liam crept out of the castle one day, only to be greeted by a throng of cheering townspeople that adored their princess as well. Liam spent that day being hugged by the people and lavished with praise on his beauty and being reassured at every step that the Queen would have been proud and joyed to see a daughter grow up this way. After that, Liam vowed to never leave the castle.
One day, after freeing himself from a tailor trying to add extra ribbons to a new gown for walks in the royal gardens, the castle was a flurry of activity. Liam approached the king as he sent a line of soldiers out to the courtyard.
"Father, what's going on? The commotion..."
The king beamed and opened his arms wide. "Ah, my dear child! A wonderful choice in outfits for this prestigious day. Your prince will be arriving any moment now."
Liam was taken aback. "W-What?"
"Now that you've finished your training and are a full adult, it's time to plan for the future. Other kingdoms have been thrilled to send their princes and-"
"How dare you! How could you-?!" Liam stopped his feet and shook his fist, knowing how little of a gesture that is when the stomp made a happy clack of heels on the tile floor and the fist was covered in silk gloves.
The king just grinned further. "A reluctant princess! Oh the fairy tales are always right. She fights against the candidates until her dream prince comes and sweeps her off her feet!" The king chuckled to himself as he made his way across the hall. "You be as picky as you want! I'll keep the candidates coming!"
Liam stood there, mouth agape.
The visiting prince arrived in his carriage and Liam was made to wait to receive him. Liam's mind immediately wandered to protect him as the prince got down on one knee to kiss the princess's hand and woo her with loving adoration. He was a rich, powerful prince. She was a rich, curvaceous princess. They were clearly made for each other. The royal maidens leaned in and assured Liam he should marry the prince immediately.
Liam was shoved off to give the prince a tour, so the former-prince gave the visiting one a begrudging walkthrough. As the prince extolled his virtues, Liam stuck out a dainty foot when the prince drew in close, sending him sprawling into the garden's mud. Liam was pleased to finally have a use for his dress and keeping his feet hidden for subterfuge.
The prince pushed himself off the ground, sputtering mud and grass in shock. He looked up at Liam in horror and Liam pounced on the opportunity to storm off in a huff, ranting about the prince's undignified ways and how they clearly weren't a match.
Liam was pleased with himself for the rest of the night, until he overheard talks of the next candidate. A new flurry of complaints and protests did little to persuade the king to stop his plan. With a hearty chuckle, Liam was sent to bed to rest up for the next day's courtship.
Day after day, Liam was presented with suitors from kingdoms across the worlds. Most just fawned over the princess, with more than enough moving right into ogling, and a few shifting their hands a bit too low in their hugs. Liam worked hard to sabotage the dates as best he could. He quickly found a hot cup of tea "accidentally" spilled across some laps did wonders for sending the princes running. The king grew more despondent with each suitor that ran away or stormed off. It just looked bad for the kingdom to have an undesirable princess.
One morning, the king returned to his daughter with a heavy heart and claimed he was unable to find a new suitor. Liam beamed inside, but did feel a little sad about letting his father down. A little. A very small little. The royal father said there was another candidate and their kingdom had been the one to reach out, a rarity after word spread about the plague of scalded laps in the castle. Liam was forced back out into the courtyard as another portal opened.
To his surprise, a beautiful young woman flicked back a flowing mane of radiant blonde hair and smoothed out her silver dress. She looked Liam up and down with a smirk. "Hey, Nerd."
Liam was aghast. "Violet!" The two princesses hugged as the collected staff murmured. The turn of events was unexpected, but it was the first guest his dear daughter hadn't met with hate in her eyes, so the kingdom could use a little friendly PR.
Liam and Violet hid away to the garden where they could speak in private. Liam all but forgot his feminine affliction at Violet's side. "What are you doing here!? I looked for you all the time but could never spot you around the castle."
She nodded. "The headmaster and I had our issues and she wasn't a big fan. If she saw us hanging out, she'd only drive you harder. But, man, seeing you break out. It got me to power through, complete the damned courses, and get out of there myself. Once back home, I had the seers keep an eye out for your kingdom and I got word of your marriage fix." Liam shrunk back into his seat in a huff. "Look, Lil-ly, there's a reason I was stuck at that dumb institute."
Liam's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"The royal parents didn't take too kindly to a daughter that wasn't interested in princes. They felt that shipping me off would 'clear my head' and get me into the traditional storybook mode. That's why I stuck around so long. May as well hang out and mess with the place when there's no point returning home. But I sensed something in you. Maybe we can... help each other out."
Liam blushed. "W-What do you mean? A-Again."
"You need somebody to marry to get your king off your back. I need somebody to marry to get away from home. Our kingdoms get peace for the ages. We can hang out, maybe get to know each other a bit better, and see if something develops. I think you might be fun. Sound like a deal?"
The king was overjoyed and ran off shouting proclamations of wonder and good tidings before he remembered to congratulate the couple and hoisted his daughter off the ground in a series of bear hugs. Liam was pleased to find another use for his dress and all the padding that protected him from crushed ribs. Violet was thrilled to be able to break the news to her parents' faces and the princesses parted with a kiss.
Liam braced himself for the days to come as the kingdom celebrated, the castle was awash in decorations and splendor, and he couldn't go more than five minutes without somebody trying to take his measurements or try on some accessory. The royal maids were at their ear-splitting shrillest with their shrieks of joy every time they saw the former prince in a new gown. Liam was sure that not even a fraction of this care would have gone into the wedding if he was getting married as his real self, but the maids flocked to him and pushed the limits of how much he could smile and bide his time.
On the morning of the big day, Liam was dragged from bed at first light and was swarmed by every staff member in the castle trying to get him to add something to his costume, try his hair this way or that, or paint himself in some new color. Before the sleep had even cleared from his eyes, he felt like he was covered by twice his own weight in jewelry, frills, and poof of every imaginable variety.
The time came and the trumpets blared as the doorways opened for the former-prince. The collected crowd was aghast with oohs and ahhs and no less than three maidens were overcome and needed to sit down at the sight of Liam's wedding gown. A spectacle of silken finery that was all but blinding in its radiance when the sunlight had the pleasure to grace it. It sealed the end of Prince Liam in the history books and only the tale of Princess Lilly would pass through the lips of scholars and schoolchildren when reciting the names of their most beloved royalty. A fare number of bawdy songs were no doubt sung in bars after many drinks, but those people were roundly beaten until they respected their princess.
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Liam flounced his way down the aisle, hiding his struggle to heft the gown behind a smile. Violet waited for him at the front of the church, dressed in a far more simple affair to Liam's chagrin. As he approached and stood at her side, she leaned in and whispered to her bride-to-be.
"You look like you're being devoured by a giant marshmallow."
"Oh shut up."
The ceremony continued without a hitch, pausing only twice to shush the king's bouts of joyous weeping and cheers of pride for his daughter. During the reception afterwards, Violet took great joy in watching her new father-in-law torment her own parents with hugs and slaps on the back.
Liam waddled up, having broken free of the weeping royal maids that needed to make sure he knew that his wedding was just as divine as his own mother's and what a lovely bride he made. Violet gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"I'm not sure what's going to be more fun: getting you out of that dress or leaving you in that monstrosity."
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Private Eyeful
A Mercynaries Story from SinComics.com
I flipped through the case folder one more time, trying to wrap my head around this story. It had been years since I left the reporting beat for the detective game, but I'd never had a case like this. This was the big leagues. Leagues bigger than my rinky dink operation was used to, but this could be the break I was looking for. Last week, a dame came rambling into my shop. Looked no bigger than a kid right out of university but she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. Said her roommate was missing and hadn't shown her face at home or work for days. I shrugged it off; kids these days are up to any number of things. Running from debts or just flying the coop with some beefcake from her school days, it happens. But the roomie said no. Our missing girl was the definition of clean living. Good kid, no vices, no boyfriend, no drinking, and probably helped old ladies cross the street. I checked back in at the restaurant she waited for and they corroborated the tale. Never late, picked up shifts for sick employees, a doll to talk to, and made a mean cup of joe. More than I could say for the lug working the grill, but now I was hooked. I may have quit the newspaper racket for this life, but that didn't mean I left it all behind.
I put the shoe leather to the streets and checked in with some old contacts at the paper. The ones that still returned my calls or didn't bring up poker night debts, that is. Our missing girl wasn't the only one of her kind. Across the last year, there had been at least sixteen missing girls dumped into the cold case files, not counted any unreported incidents or murders pinned on some other poor sap taking the blame. No suspects, no arrests for the sixteen. This was as good a place to start as any. I hit up the usual haunts like the gin joints or hideouts. I even returned to the girly shows a few extra times, just to be thorough, of course. Nobody was talking at the clubs, which either meant that they didn't know anything or they were sticking their heads in the sand. When even these lowlives are scared, that points to the big dogs. And nobody was bigger than the Old Man.
The Man was a member of the old crew. Old enough that nobody had their stories straight. He was either the first of the family to come over on the boats, was part of a crew that had been in the country from the start, or never had a homeland to call his own and moved to where the money and danger took him. The boss of bosses and I wanted to bend his ear. Truth be told, I wanted to jaw with him ever since I got my start on the local crime beat tucked away behind the funny pages, but the editors never bought it. Cowardice, corruption, or laziness were all believable reasons for those with the desk jobs to not get involved, but I'd been keeping notes all those years. Looking for the connections nobody else did and listening to the whispers anybody with sense would have walked away from. To get the guy at the top, sometimes you have to start with the goons at the bottom.
My investigation keyed me on to two grunts fresh out of a stay at Hotel Jail, and that's what led me to them. No matter what they got put away for, they were sprung a few days later and never saw a day in court. The fact that, despite their incompetence, nobody had put them in the ground made me think they had connections. I had been trailing them for a few days and they had some back alley meetings, but nothing incriminating. It was pretty easy for a guy like me to blend in. That's the benefit of being the little guy. Not famous enough for anybody to know my mug or to have somebody try to rearrange it.
I was beginning to doubt my hunches when there was finally some action in the slim hours of the morning. The goons headed for the docks, taking it nice and casual, but spending plenty of time looking over their shoulders. Something was going down and this was my best lead. The warehouses by the docks are an inviting scene to the scum of this city. With all the shipping activity, nobody would notice a few extra lights on or vans coming in and out at night. And that they did. Black, unmarked vans came in and out of the scene, never staying long, but they seemed to be dropping a lot off. I couldn't get a good look so I stayed hunkered down by the shipping crates, listening to the idle chatter of the criminal underground. Something about trying to pick code names. The big guy was talking animals and the scrawny one was shooting them down. They may be the dregs of the streets, but I had to give the little guy credit for his foresight. Nothing intimidating about a gangster named “Scorpion”.
The grunts were finally called away to help one of the drivers load up, so I snagged that opportunity to scope out the scene. It didn't take much effort to jimmy open one of the rusted windows and I was in. The warehouse was dark and a steady “hum” droned on from the back room. After making sure the coast was clear, I slipped around the corner and saw, well, I don't know WHAT I saw. Some kind of crazy contraption with lots of tubes, straight out of Frankenstein's fantasies. When I snapped to, I noticed the figure slumped over. I bolted over to it, but wish I hadn't. It almost looked human, but it was desiccated. Drained dry and turned to ash. Almost like the poor thing had its soul sucked out. While the figure was a mess, its clothing led me to the grim reality. A simple, pretty blue dress. It was a bit scuffed up, but I was sure I'd found one of the missing girls'. The odds weren't in my missing waitress's favor.
The squeak of cheap rubber soles on cement snapped me out of my awe. I was so transfixed, I hadn't heard the van doors or the grunts get back. Only way out was the way in, but I'd have to get through them to be out of here. I pressed up against the wall and grabbed the pistol from my waistband. I wasn't the best fighter, but I'd have the element of surprise. As the goons were yammering away, I readied to strike, but a phrase knocked me off balance. “Alchemist”. THE Alchemist?! This was big, too big now. That's a name you don't want to hear. Guy's influential enough that even made men don't say his name. I'd barely heard the name back in my reporter days and only then as hushed tales of some kind of mad doctor or super scientist. It was hard not to write them off as the ramblings of the cornered rats caught up in a police strike. What are the Old Man and Alchemist doing together?! Case or no case, I had to get out.
But I was careless. I tried to muscle my way through them when the goons turned the corner. I was hoping to be able to shove the smaller guy down, but I instead landed smack dab in the beef of the big lug. Luckily, that did give the two a bit of a shock and gave me time to scramble up to my feet, but I could hear their shouts just seconds later. Shouts and the pangs of bullets whizzing around me. I blindly fired a few shots behind me, but kept for the exit. The smaller guy shouted something about not shooting, but neither I or the big guy paid him much attention. A few seconds later, I wish we had. I was about to squeeze between the warehouse doors and the delivery van parked next them, but I heard another shot zip past me, bounce off the van roof, and explode into a bag of whatever it was they were carrying. The scene became hazy with some kind of blue powder floating through the air, covering the van. And me. I hacked and wheezed as it burned down my throat and frantically waved my hands to clear the air, but only wound up kicking up more of the crud swirling around me. My eyes were watering and the last thing I saw before my vision kicked out was the two goons stepping out of the back room. The small guy was pointing at me and the big one was carrying the canister from the room with the gal. I knew I had one shot left in me and prayed that thing was explosive. The pistol shot echoed through the docks but instead of the satisfying thud of criminal scum hitting the dirt, I heard another metallic pang and the sound of pressurized gas blasting out.
The goons were in a panic from what I could hear through the dust clogging my ears. Something about the raw chemicals not lasting if they were exposed to the air without refrigeration. The Old Man's name got tossed around, so I fell to my knees and tried to crawl away. Blinded or not, distance from the scene was what I needed, but not what the Universe was going to give me. A meaty paw wrapped around my leg and dragged me back. The big guy wasn't even talking, just grunting in anger. The small one squawked something about the stuff no longer being any good but that he could think of a way to hide the evidence. Before I could come up with a disappearing act, the gorilla squeezed me tight and pinched my nose shut. I gasped for air but instead got a lung full of whatever goop was in that canister. I tried my best to spit it out but with each breath, they poured more of the stuff down my throat. I couldn't tell how long it lasted, but I knew there was no way I should have been able to drunk as much of that business as I did, and as a detective, I knew my drinking.
Even before they stopped pouring, I could tell something was wrong with me. My insides burned with a cold fire and everything grew tight, like I was itching to burst out of my own skin. My mind spun and it was hard to keep focus. One minute I felt like I was growing into a giant and the next shrinking into nothingness. My nose burned and the world turned to citrus. The bag of bones I'd been piloting through this world just stopped responding and I crumpled to the ground. The grunts' distorted laughter rang through my ears but I heard one of them warble something about docks and water. The last thing I felt before giving in to the Reaper was the shock of cold water wrapping around me and dragging me down.
I thought those had been my last moments but the world flooded back to me in a surge and flash of colors. My senses came back to me and hard. From the crash of the waves around me to the pungent smell of seaweed to the sting of salt water on my tongue, I wasn't leaving this world just yet. My vision slowly faded back in and I could see I was on the beach. It was dark but the sun was peeking over the water. Sunrise. No, no. Sunset. I must have been out for a whole day. At least a day for all I knew. My body felt like lead so I slumped back to the ground. The sand was soft and cushiony under me, but was pushing against my chest and hurt. I flopped onto back but know the feeling was pillowy at my thighs and hips. Propped up on my elbows, I tried to look down but got an eyeful of seaweed covering my face. I tried to yank it away and only got a sharp pain in my scalp in return. No, it wasn't strands of seaweed, it was wet mats of hair. I had to get home quickly. Home was safe, secure, and home had booze. I dragged myself to my feet and wobbled around. Everything felt wrong and heavy. Lurching forward, I made my way towards the boardwalk, toppling over and eating sand a few times along the way.
The wet tatters of my clothing dried out as I slogged my way back to the office I called home, but the pounding in my temples wasn't getting any kinder. The streets were dead at night and I was thankful for that. Fewer questions about my sorry state and I wasn't sure if I was rambling just in my head or out loud too. Anger kept me going and I dragged my sorry self closer and closer to home. Anger and what happened to those poor girls and whatever they drugged me with. I had an advantage though. Those goons thought they drowned me, but I was going to make sure I proved them wrong.
When I finally shuffled my way up the apartment stairs, I patted my side for my keys. I wasn't sure why I did, the slacks were so tight I could feel the keys digging into my thigh. Force of habit, I guess. Inside, I headed immediately to my desk, opened the bottom drawer, and took the biggest swig of the bourbon I could stomach. It turned out you can't stomach that much bourbon after a run-in with super science and being left for dead. I barely had time to screw the cap back on the bottle before I passed out and spent the night resting on the not very comfortable rug.
The next morning found me fairing hardly better. I dragged my self into the shower and turned whatever knob I laid hands on first as far as it could go. The blast of cold water was enough to jolt me awake, but not enough to steel my resolve to take a gander at myself. The sting of the water against my new skin told me what I was now, but I couldn't bring myself to look, as if that would make everything real. When I couldn't take anymore, I shut the water off and leaned the wall as I dripped dry. I had to face the music and schlepped out of the stall and into the gaze of the mirror. Staring back at me was one heck of a dame.
A doll of a face but curves to there and back. Her lips, plump and inviting, but those long lashes only the most dangerous of dames possessed. The hair I'd kept neat and tight all these years now flowing down to my hips. Her body... No wonder my clothes were in tatters with those mounds bursting out. Whether it was the joy of facing death and coming out on top or residual effects of whatever I had been dosed with, I knew I should I have been furious, but the anger wouldn't boil up again. Now it was just resolve. Feeling sorry for myself wasn't going to fix this, I had to get the people responsible.
As I plopped onto the old couch and shuddered at the realization that I couldn't tell where the cushion ended and my own full backside began, I thought about calling someone. But who? The cops were too corrupt to report the case to. Probably being bankrolled by the very team that did this to me and that would kill my element of surprise. I hadn't been to the doctor since I worked at the paper and even if I did find one, nobody would believe my story any way. The only faithful companion I had to communicate with was the rest of that bourbon, but I'd had enough passing out for this week.
I opened up the closet to see if I had anything I could still squeeze into and something shoved in the back caught my eye. A long blue dress was hanging there and it got my mind churning again. It once belonged to a gorgeous doll I dated back in my paper days. Smart and beautiful, she was too good for me. The problem was, she wised up to that fact quickly. Dumped me, skipped town, and word among sources was that she found a plum gig at a fledgling news station. Never even bothered to pick up the stuff she left at my place. I should have tossed her junk like she tossed me, but I was a sentimental fool and held onto it. That could pay off for me now. All the families in town had their casinos, which not only served as good income, but safe places to meet. And those joints were always staffed by a bevy of dames that had free reign of the scene. What better way to go undercover and get some scoops and information not even the best reporters would have access to? This ridiculous body could be my ticket to getting justice and taking out the scum at the top. I threw on whatever I could make fit, grabbed whatever passed for petty cash from my desk, and headed out to the thrift stores to get what I needed to complete this ensemble and idiotic plan.
After returning home and my new getup was going on, I checked out the mirror. She was a looker all right. The dress was tight, too tight. Its former owner was no slouch in the curves department, but I was filling it out in ways that fabric was not meant to handle. It was for the mission though. I slathered on some makeup the best I could and puckered up. It wasn't the cleanest job, but it was good enough and I didn't figure too many people would be staring at my face tonight. Silk stockings covered up where that poor dress couldn't and the heels, well, they didn't look that high sitting on the shelf at the five and dime. I felt like I could pitch forward any second now and found myself sticking my rear out to compensate. I knew this was going to be a night that would take a lot of hard drinking to purge from my skull after all this was said and done.
I shuffled my way over to one of the Old Man's known casinos, regretting I had spent the last of my funds on these damned heels so I couldn't take a cab. At the door, I flashed my new pearly whites and while the dunce would have preferred I flashed something else, he bought into my story about being a new hire reporting for duty and ready to make it big in a new city. I don't think he listened to more than five words I said, but I must have had a rack of keys because they opened the door. Inside, I was directed to back room with the rest of the show girls and cocktail gals. They gave me harder looks than the lookout at the entrance, probably weren't too keen on somebody new taking their tips. Suspicious or not, the head mistress pointed me in the direction of a tray and a drink menu and shoved me out on the floor.
The place was a who's who of criminal lowlives and goons I recognized from police reports and investigations. I could have collared any number of them and made enough bank to keep the liquor flowing, but I had bigger fish in mind. It was a long night full of whistles, pinches, and invitations to sit on laps, and the bills stuffed down the dress didn't make up for it. The joint stayed hopping through the night and nobody seemed to care I wasn't doing a good job of keeping track of tables and orders. I was more concerned with keeping an eye on the clientele that weren't keeping an eye on me.
It was either the late hours of the night or the early hours of the morning, but an older fellow came rushing in through the side entrance and had an uncommon amount of protection. Clothes were too cheap to be one of the ranking thugs but he had too much muscle to be a minion. I'd gotten a little chummy with the other girls on the floor now that I'd shared in their struggle, so I started to ask around. The few that did know him had a flash of fear in their eyes and told me to steer clear. My hunch was right. The Alchemist was working for the Old Man and now I knew what he looked like and where he was stashed. I had to play it cool for the rest of the night, but before they sent me on my way, I managed to lift a key ring so I could sneak back in later. The dress didn't have any pockets so I had to store it in the Bank of the Twin Peaks and hoped a boozed up customer didn't go for a feel and discover them.
Closing time for the girls came and I was sent on my way and told to come back tonight. I planned to come back a lot sooner, but I had to stop by the office first. My haul for the night allowed me to grab a cab back home and would replenish petty cash for this costume. I was planning on ditching this ridiculous getup, grabbing my gun, and going out to set things right. I minced up the stairs as fast as I could in these stilts but stopped and spun back into the hall when I noticed the light on in my office. My gun was still inside and there was no way I could go a few rounds dressed like this. I had to go in hard, get to my desk, and plug the intruder before things got messy. The lock had been jimmied open. A real amateur job. Too sloppy to be the mob's grunts. A quick peak inside showed the entrance was clear. I dashed inside and slid to the desk. The gun was still in the drawer, but the monster took something even more important from me. The last of the bourbon had been drained away and the bottle was left out for all to witness the carnage. My plan for self-defense just turned into justifiable homicide. I kicked off the heels, checked the chamber, and rushed into the backroom, shouting. Couldn't quite pull off intimidating with the breathy lilt this cursed body left me with.
The intruders seemed to agree with that and the two broads barely gave me a nod when I threatened to blow their heads off. One was a chesty blonde filling out her blouse and vest in ways that got my motor running. She shifted her fedora back and finished off the last of my bourbon before smiling at me. The other dame was a redhead with gams up to here, a clunky green watch, and a devil may care attitude that I had a gun pointed in the middle of her glasses. She gave me a wink and commented on the lack of quality of my booze. They were getting personal.
The day had been too weird for me to put up a fight and they didn't appear to be looking for one, so I decided to hear them out. They had a crazy tale of belonging to some agency and hired out to help blokes like me. I could tell they were hiding something and they couldn't give me a straight dish on how they knew about my situation. I told them to hit the road, I had work to do. Scratch that, I told them to replace my liquor THEN hit the road. But that didn't stick with these dizzy dames. They said they could help me. Take me somewhere to get my insides cleaned up and get me back to normal. For a second, I thought about taking them up on it and blowing this scene, but the sap that I am told them no. I had a job to do and wrongs to right. It had to be tonight before my target moved to a new safehouse. I had to stop him from hurting any more girls and get to the bottom of this madness. Something about these two dames made want to open up to them. They sighed and grumbled, said they weren't going to leave my side until they could fix me up, and hemmed and hawed more, but I could see a spark in their eyes. The redhead was too chipper, thought this was a game. I told her that attitude would get her hurt, but she laughed me off. I was always a sucker a cute laugh, only before they usually wouldn't get me shot. I kicked them out of my room and gave them a run down of the plan while I squeezed back into my slacks and button-up. Felt sorry for those straining buttons, but if tonight went right, they'd have an easier job on my old frame. My crazy tale didn't shock these two at all and they trailed me down to the cab.
I had the driver drop us off a few blocks away. Going in quiet was going to be key, we were in enemy territory. The casino was a lot quieter in the early hours. A few gents cleaning up the joint but the rest of the thugs and entertainers were either back home or sleeping off hangovers somewhere else. We made our way through the kitchen entrance and down the halls to the lower levels I saw the goons in earlier. Away from the lights and public spaces, the halls started to get weird. Lots of tubes and wires going this way and that. Heavy doors to keep things in or out too. I snuck a peak into some of the open rooms and saw a number of storage containers and medical supplies. This must be where they patched up their grunts after a busy night out. As we got deeper, I started to spy the heavier equipment and could hear the hum and murmur of activity down below. One room was filled top to bottom with those containers I saw the night this madness started. These ones were empty though and off in the corner was some kind of contraption to drain them. The tubes ran down and through the floor. I motioned to my new partners to keep going. We didn't have to say it, but I knew all of us agreed that this joint had to be taken out once my job was taken care of.
We reached the door the various hums and fluctuations were coming from. I got ready to signal the duo, but the second I turned around, they rolled though the shutter shouting their daffy brains out. The fools were treating this like some kind of happy fun times. I switched plans, slid in, and took out the two goons with two shots. In the corner, the nerd was shivering and looking around for some kind of weapon. A pistol pointed at the forehead and a few barked orders set him straight. I motioned to the dolts to bar the door and confronted my torturer. Without his guards, I got the answers out of him easily and he confirmed my suspicions. The fabled Alchemist indeed. We turned to what kind of operation was going on here and his knees got quivering again. I had to fill in most of the details myself but a few slaps and he was more willing to cooperate. He was working for the Old Man all right, some secret experiments. He was hired for some kind of special project and got free reign of the underground science racket and protection in return. The missing girls were wrapped up in this scheme and poor pawns in his experiments. When I finally got around to my own condition, he seemed genuinely shocked and changed his tone. The little freak whipped out a notebook and pen and started to get grabby. A backhand set him straight. Some words about the serums never meant to be taken straight, they had to be diluted and processed. Lots of words going above my head and not helping to sate my anger. I reached for the nearest vial of goop. A bright blue like the dust I was doused with but thicker like the sludge from the canister. I picked him by the neck and prepped to give him a dose of my medicine when a hand on my shoulder stopped me. The two dames gave me the runaround on not being allowed to let that happen. I could rough him up all I wanted but the super science was outside of the parameters. I threw down the canister and swallowed my hatred like a bad lemon.
If I couldn't have the Alchemist's head on a plate, I wanted to bring this whole operation down. I picked the scientist up by the collar again and demanded a cure. He squeaked out that there should be some way to neutralize the poison but it would take time. I trusted him as far I could throw him, but even though I felt like I could put him through the wall, I wanted eyes on him. The blonde said she'd stay behind and make sure he worked on the cure and then dismantled the scene. Red was running some samples through her crazy watch but said she'd be my shadow. I hardly looked threatening before and now that my hair and curves were flopping about I looked even meeker, but she let me feel like a big man.
We were deep enough underground that the shots wouldn't have made it far, but we ran to the elevators as fast these dainty feet and swishing rump would move me. The lab had a straight shot to the top and the suite of the Old Man himself. Red kicked in the door and whopped like a mad man. She may not have been all right upstairs but her antics were at least good for a few moments of surprise and panic. I took down the bodyguards that I could, but I was running out of bullets and breath. The dame rushed in, laughing like a kid playing jacks, and taking blows a lot harder than she was giving them out. I gave her credit though, she was back on her feet almost as soon as she was knocked down. I reloaded the last of my stash, but the goons were in full swing now and their aim was getting better. I tried to dodge left towards the bureau, but my short time in the new body hadn't left me the most agile thing around and I misjudged my center of gravity and leaping prowess. I barely made it halfway into cover and was too twisted around to act before the muscle took his shot. I grimaced and waited for the cold sting of lead, but got nothing. A solid thud propped me up and got me out of my cover. The crazy broad took a bullet for me! She was as dumb as she was brave. I plugged the trigger man between the eyes and crawled over to the sprawled out redhead. I was prepping my soliloquy for the ages when she sputtered and let out a string of curses that could make a sailor blush. I-I knew I she took that bullet but here she was getting back on her feet! These two were either angels or devils but they were on my side for now and I was grateful for it. She gave me some quick malarkey about being a fast healer and helped me up. We scanned the scene but things were quiet now and all that was left was the Old Man himself.
We pushed open the bedroom door and saw that the moniker was the most apt thing to ever come out any human's mouth. The boss was a frail husk slumped over in a wheelchair, more liver spots than man. He wheezed out breath when he saw us and I was surprised a cloud of dust didn't come with it. The living corpse was hooked up to some kind of machine, pumping that blue goop into his neck. We stood there gawking but something seemed to stir in him as the canister drained. The wrinkled flaps of skin on his neck tightened up and seemed to contract in while his skin flushed and some color spread through him. His wheezing gasps evened out into stable, rasping breathing. It all came together and hit me like a grand piano. The gang was kidnapping the pure, young girls to drain them of their essence and pump it back into this monster and keep him alive. As if his organization wasn't enough of a cancer on our city, he was taking others' lives just to prolong his.
My ally went to unplug him, but I stopped her. Both her and his eyes turned towards me in surprise. I didn't want him dead, I wanted his craggy face splashed over every front page this city would see for weeks. Take him out and some other thug would rise up in his place, but pull him out in the open and the sunshine could shed some light on this whole operation and the corruption it poisoned the world with. Sure some fancy lawyers could keep him out of the slammer but not even the cops in his pocket could keep his businesses open or save him from the bad publicity. And I had a hunch that without his lab, he wouldn't last much longer than it would take to drag him through the mud and hopefully get some names and businesses out of the joint and either shut them down or provide a stern lesson to those following in his footsteps.
We put the suite on lockdown while Red ran up and down to the basement as she prodded the lab man to hurry it up. They eventually handed me a syringe of a substance more yellow than Nature should allow for and tossed the Alchemist in the corner. I bit my tongue, injected myself in the arm, and was immediately wracked with more pain than I'd ever felt before. It only lasted a moment but I dropped to the ground and would have been screaming if I wasn't gasping for breath. With each gulp for air, I felt the fire burn in me again. It was like being sucked back into myself and with each shudder, my skin contracted and I could feel my bones shifting around. My insides were going through a blender. The floor under me was sticky and wet now. I couldn't tell if I was sweating out the old goop or I was sicking it out.
In minutes, I was wobbly but back on my feet. The slacks that moments ago straining against the push of my hips, now sat loose and had me wishing for a belt. The dames helped me back up and gave me a hearty slap on the back. I didn't want to admit it, but it hurt more than I let on. I asked them to help me gather the lab supplies so we could bring them to the press or law, but they stopped me. Their own gig dictated that they destroy the whole lot of morphing goo and machinery so it could never be used again. They let me take enough evidence to prove that the Alchemist and Old Man were connected to the missing girls and it turned out some break-ins at local labs and supply depots as well. I called in all the connections I could to get as many reporters and cops on the scene and fast. The casino was emptied out by the time they arrived, but we had our hands on the two important figures. In all the hubbub and chaos of the media frenzy, the girls gave me the slip and disappeared into the crowd. I never had a chance to thank them, or grill them for answers, but my lack of jiggling was proof that they did good work.
The circus around the case lasted for months and I was dragged through the mud and back in attempts to discredit me, but public opinion was on the right side and the cops were forced to shut down the Old Man's most known joints. The praise and fame were good for business, but having my face that out in the open for taking down a mob boss was a bigger problem. Any goon looking to make it big would be gunning for me to make a name for himself. I needed to make it to trial to ensure the Old Man was put away, so I put myself in the hands of the Feds for protection and relocation. I'd have to take on another identity for my own safety.
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Pump Up The Crowd
A Mercynaries Story from SinComics.com
"It's Jackson Hoyle with the reception! He's only just joined the Shipmen and already Bayview is off to its best season start as far back as this announcer can remember! He's blasting down the field, at the 40 and- Oh! Right past number forty-three! It's all but assured Hoyle will see his second touchdown of the game.
Hoyle gives his signature wave to the cheerleaders and the crowd eats. It. Up! It doesn't look like he's getting any complaints from the sidelines either. It's not often you see the cheering squad getting pumped up themselves.
Hoyle's at the 20, but if he doesn't pay att- Oh! Brandice with the tackle! Hoyle is down! I think we heard that snap all the way up here! Hoyle is... he's still down, folks, but he's moving. The coach is coming out now. Stay tuned, listeners, this could be a season-ender for Hoyle. If not a career-ender..."
The coach blew his whistle and motioned for the team to start the practice drill over again. Off to the sidelines, a metallic springing was barely audible over the grunts and shouting of the team.
"What are you doing out here, Hoyle?"
Jackson forced a grin and nodded to the coach. "You know I don't miss practice, Coach. Got me to where I am today."
The coach looked over his former-star leaning on crutches.
"Idiocy got you where you are today." The coach paused for a beat and adjusted his hat. "How you holding up, boy? How's physical therapy going?"
Hoyle shifted on his crutches. "Doc says they can start putting me through my paces any day now. Just a bit more to heal up and then the hard work starts."
"Good to hear, son."
"Being put up gave me enough time to work on the notes you sent over. I've been watching the tapes and I think we can overcome their weaknesses if we make a few changes to formation."
The coach waved to the assistant and motioned for the next drills before putting his hand on Hoyle's shoulder.
"Glad to have you still helping out the team. Let's talk in my office."
Over the coming weeks, the team rallied around their injured friend, but it was clear they needed him out on the field. What started with a few losses soon spiraled into a losing streak that blew their early season gains. The new fans that Hoyle brought in proved fickle and with the new star relegated to the sidelines, the crowds grew thin.
"Who let this scrawny guy in here? Get lost on the way to the library, man?"
Hoyle waved his crutch. "Ah can it, Wallace. Even on medical leave I can bench more than you."
His teammate laughed and supported Hoyle. "Once you're back on your feet, you're not going to see anything outside of the weight room."
"The bed rest is killing me, man. I haven't been this lean since my high school days. Therapist won't even let me lift weights."
"Once those cheerleader groupies of yours wise up and get fed up with your scrawny self, you send them here. Wallace Brown can treat women right."
Hoyle chuckled. "Not a chance, my friend. If there's anything the ladies love more than a star, it's an injured bad boy to nurse back to health."
Wallace shook his head. "Man, you got it coming and going. Injured and you still get to hang out on the bench coddled by the ladies. I have half a mind to show up in a cast myself."
"That half a mind would explain the fumble in last night's game."
"Low blow, Hoyle! Low blow."
Savannah cooed as she twirled Hoyle's hair.
"How are you doing tonight, sweetie?"
Hoyle settled in on the bench and gave a friendly wink to the watching squad.
"Can't keep me down. Make sure the rest of the crew shows some love to the guys on the field too."
Savannah smirked and gave him a peck on the cheek.
"Ah, they spend so much time in the opposing end zone these days that we don't have much to cheer about. That keeps up free to wook after our injured widdle star."
Hoyle raised his hands against the mocking concern.
"Cheer your hearts out to get a win for these guys and you can treat me any way you want."
Savannah winked as she strutted out to the sidelines. "We'll hold you to that. You spend so much more time down here with us that you should join the squad."
The team, and lingering crowd, were joyous at the 3-point win the Bayview Shipmen eked out. Earlier in the season, that paltry victory would have felt like a loss, but they were now taking anything they could get. The players raised their fists triumphantly to the crowd, slapped each other on the back, and carried the coach on their shoulders as they made their way to the locker rooms. Wallace stopped by the bench and gave Hoyle a hearty handshake, followed by a hug.
"You did it, Brown! Way to go, man."
Wallace hugged his friend again.
"The definition of a team effort, my man. That pass you cooked up burned right through their defense. It wasn't pretty, but even the ugliest win looks like the belle of the ball these days. They let you drink on those meds you're on?"
"Ha! Even if they didn't, I am down for some-"
"A-hem! Mr. Hoyle has a previous engagement." Savannah grinned.
Wallace whistled then started back to catch up with the other players. "Even on the sidelines, the man gets action..."
Savannah tossed her arms around Jackson and kissed him on the nose. "Now about what you said..."
"Aww, c'mon. We were just joking around."
"Jackson Hoyle! I would never have taken you to be one to skimp on a bet. The ladies and I do our fair share for this team. We deserve a celebration too!"
Jackson started to speak but a pom-pom clogging his mouth stopped him.
"Show up an hour early for the next game."
As the coach reviewed the final plays, there was a knock at the locker room door. Friendly whoops and whistles sounded as Savannah sashayed into the room.
"You boys decent in here?"
The coach quieted down the boisterous crowd and shook his head back to Savannah.
"For today's game, I want to introduce the newest member of the Bayview cheering squad, Ms. Jessie Holly."
She dramatically gestured as Hoyle hopped into the room on his remaining crutch. A long blonde wig bounced as he maneuvered in and he brushed the loose strands away from his face. His comically red lips were pursed with a begrudging smirk. Dressed in an ill-fitting Shipmen cheering squad uniform, Hoyle pushed the skirt down, smoothed out the blouse, and adjusted the white tights as he leaned against the crutch.
Jackson sighed, put on a fake smile for the crowd, and raised a pom-pom to the air.
"Gooo, team!"
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The locker room broke out into cheers and whistles as the coach shook his head again.
"You got it going on, Hoyle!"
"Best you've ever looked!"
"You found your calling!"
"Quiet down, you mugs," the coach bellowed. "You're an embarrassment to the sport. Get out of my sight and win me a damn game."
The team gave a final hoorah and made their way to the exit. Every one of them had encouraging words or blown kisses for Jackson.
With the room otherwise empty, Hoyle turned back to Savannah. "You had your fun. Let me grab my stuff and change back before the game, then we can-"
"Oh, no, missy! The full game! You're on the bench with the team for this one, we need our good luck charm."
Jackson moved to gripe some more, but Savannah placed her finger to his lips and shushed him.
"If you weren't still on that crutch, you'd be in heels too."
Jackson was thankful that the game went well and the crowd kept its attention on the players and not on the sidelines and him. He even found it within himself to wave his pom-poms as the team caught an interception and scored the first touchdown of the game. By the time they scored their third field goal, he had the words to the cheers down.
Hoyle made his way to the records room to review the tapes for the next game. As he pulled out his notepad and reached for the remote, the coach's frame filled the door.
"Need a minute of your time, son."
Hoyle turned off the TV.
"Anything, Coach."
"You know I'm a practical man, Hoyle. Skills win games, but... Even the most hardened man on that field won't buck superstition. When you have a streak going, you keep at it."
"Sir?"
"The team looked good out there last night. And maybe, maybe we can keep that up and win some more games. Turn things around mid-season."
"I don't think I follow-" Hoyle turned and saw Savannah leaning against the door frame. "C'mon, Coach, you can't possibly-"
Savannah entered and took her place beside the coach. "The team was loose out there. They were in good spirits, less focused on the recent defeats. We think they just needed a good luck charm."
Hoyle chuckled. "Okay, okay. Funny. Now let me get back to these-."
The coach shook his head. "We need the wins, son. You do some fine work for the plays and helping the team strategize, but maybe you could be of more help just... just making the team feel good. Raise their spirits..."
The next game, Hoyle returned to see his office had a new sign taped up over the window. "Jessie Holly, Mascot". He sighed and saw the bag on his desk and the spread waiting for him. Once more, he changed into the cheering uniform and put on the wig. After a knock on the door, Bridget came in carrying a small satchel.
"We thought we could go a bit more understated than last time." She pulled out several tubes of lipstick and held them up against Hoyle's skin to compare the colors. She nodded sagely and pat Hoyle on the head.
"Pucker up, hun!"
After their third win, Hoyle was barely a presence on the team but Holly was like family. The players were winning and Savannah was able to negotiate some bonuses for her squad. With their payday resting on it, Holly was a hit with the whole team and Jackson was watched over by the cheerleaders.
Returning from the showers, Jackson ran into Wallace.
"Wallace, man, do I ever need to talk."
"What's going on, Jessie. I-er- Damn..."
Jackson glared at his friend.
"Sorry, man, sorry. It's just... you know, we've kind of gotten used to your new look. And you kind of smell like flowers. It slipped out."
Hoyle grunted. "It's a depilatory. Stuff burns like a mother."
"Yeah but at least your legs look good in that-" He stopped and surveyed Hoyle's face. "Not in the mood. I get that."
"You owe me a drink, dammit."
With the renewed interest of their fans and a cheering squad working their hardest, Bayview continued its push through the season. After the team's success, they started to grow complacent and their performance dropped. Narrow wins led to losses and the downward spiral started anew.
"Thanks for coming in, Savannah."
"Of course, Coach. We're all here for the team."
"Hrm. The team has started to slide again. We made a deal earlier and if this keeps up, the bonuses will have to stop. I can't afford to keep your squad in top shape if the crowds aren't coming out and-"
"Leave that to me. I have a plan to get our lucky charm in tip top shape."
Hoyle returned to the office and tossed his wig onto the desk. Playing along during a game was one thing, but as soon as it was over, he was glad to be out of the uniform and to get to real work. The knock on the door startled him and the intruder came right in. He wasn't surprised to see Savannah, but she came with a guest.
"Hey, hun! The team has taken on a new doctor. Allow me to introduce, Dr. Lavender!"
The doctor was a tall woman, her brunette hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, and smartly dressed in a blouse and knee-length skirt. She looked Hoyle over but didn't raise an eyebrow to his current outfit.
"Mr. Hoyle. I have been hired and brought to you because your medical leave is taking longer than anticipated. My services are required to speed up your therapy regime and get you back to being an asset to the team."
Jackson beamed. "That's great, Doctor! I've been putting in some, uh, odd hours so I don't get to the gym or therapy as much as I want."
The woman nodded. "That ends today. I will take over your therapy, medication, and nutritional plan until you are deemed well enough to rejoin the team and perform."
Over the coming days, Hoyle was removed from all training and assistance duties as he worked exclusively with the new doctor. She prepared all his meals and kept him to a strict diet. His normal anti-inflammatory medication was replaced by a new prescription and he was required to take several of the purple pills throughout the day. Dr. Lavender was strict and didn't tolerant excuses.
Hoyle strained at the machine as he pushed the weights up with his legs.
"I don't know, Doc. My legs are improving but the rest of me doesn't feel any stronger. My clothes are hanging off of me now and I don't think-"
The doctor never looked up from her tablet as she continued her work.
"Perfectly natural for the healing process. As your body heals your legs, it needs to take energy from elsewhere. After you are well, we will change tactics and you will start to put mass back on."
He grunted as he struggled with the weights.
"But what if it's a reaction to all this medicine? I don't even know what this-"
"If that were the case, then you would not be healing so. Your legs are improving nicely. Even your skin and hair are in fine condition. Clearly, you are well. Now, that's enough repetitions. Stop."
Hoyle lowered the weights and sat back on the machine. He brushed the bangs away from his eyes and wiped away the sweat.
"You are relying too much on your crutch. You will not heal properly until you abandon it and start pushing yourself properly. I have a device to help you. Come."
She led Hoyle to her office and opened a box propped up against the wall.
"These boots will help you gain control much quicker than the crutch. They are designed to promote blood flow and keep the muscles aligned properly."
She presented him two tall, thick white boots. They looked barely more mobile than his old casts. The doctor motioned for him to sit and raise his leg. She jerked the first boot on and pulled it up to his thigh. Even relaxed, his leg stayed outstretched.
"Doc! Auck! I can barely bend my leg, it's-"
"Perfectly natural and the point."
She tugged it one final time, forcing his foot down into the bottom, where rubber blocking trapped it in and pointed practically straight down.
"This will improve your posture and facilitate the healing process. You will wear these until I give the order that your muscles have properly healed. Next foot."
Hoyle complied and the second boot was forced on. He had to use the chair to help push himself up to his feet and he tottered and wobbled once he was there. The boots' rigidity required him to use short steps and keep his hips and back angled properly.
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The doctor kept Hoyle in the contraptions for days, but he eventually grew accustomed to them and walking felt natural. The loss of movement made his exercising more difficult but the doctor simplified his routine and upped the dosage on his medication. Daily vitamin injections were started as well to make up for lost time.
Hoyle rubbed his arm as the doctor pulled the needle away.
"I do feel better, doctor. But I'm worried we've gone too far away from the plan. I've started to put on some weight again, but not muscle. The boots are tight around the thigh and my hips are-"
"This constant questioning of the process has grown tiresome. Have I not vastly sped up the healing of your legs? Is your blood work not showing perfectly health results? Your coach was quite pleased to hear about your improvements."
"I know, I know. And I'm happy too, but it all seems too-".
The doctor snapped her case closed and slammed it down on the table with a bang.
"If you want the fast way instead of the proper way, so be it!"
She went to the metal cabinet in the corner of her office and unlocked it. From the refrigerated compartment, she pulled a vial and shook it vigorously. Another needle was prepared and she filled it it with the thick, red syrup.
Hoyle's arm was swabbed again and the needle slid in. As she depressed the plunger, Hoyle could feel the thick liquid push its way inside him. His arm burned momentarily but that faded quickly as he felt a tingle spread through his body. His eyes grew heavy and he stammered as he tried to speak. It wasn't long until Hoyle passed out against the bed and fell into a deep sleep.
Hoyle was unsure of where he was or how long he had been out as he started to come around. The blurry shapes and colors eventually morphed into the doctor's office as his senses came back to him. He wiped spots of drool from the corner of his mouth and then brushed away the hair from his eyes.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and hit the floor wobbling and uneasy, only barely propping himself up by leaning against the wall. His throat ached and his body still tingled, uneasy and awkward as he tried to compose himself.
Doctor Lavender strode into view and examined him. She quietly pulled out a stethoscope and pressed it to his chest. As she nodded in approval and murmured something about success and normality, Hoyle tried to push it away. His hand brushed against soft, heavy flesh next to her device. The slow signals reached Hoyle's groggy mind and he reeled back against the wall.
"Wh-what is... What have you done to me..."
The doctor brushed her blouse off and composed herself.
"My job, Ms. Holly."
Hoyle continued to shake his head in disbelief as he gawked into the mirror. Reflected back was a person he barely recognized. A beautiful woman with what looked like his face. She had long, shiny blonde hair, an athletic frame accentuated by wide hips and a moderate bust that tugged at her hospital gown.
"You can't do this!"
Doctor Lavender made her notes and checked off her forms as she surveyed her client.
"Your continued trite complaints have no bearing on my work, Ms. Holly. I was paid to get you to work on the team and now you are ready to begin."
"The team!? You couldn't possibly expect me to play in this condition!"
"Wrong part of the team. Your fellow squad members rightfully see you as far more of an asset on the sidelines than on the field."
"I'll go to... to the police! To doctors! I'll let everybody know-"
"Check your contract. Any halfway decent lawyer would be able to spin your rights clauses to include my work. You are required to follow the orders of the team doctor after medical leave and take all measures necessary to ensure you are an asset to the team. Missing practice and defying orders will result in fines at best and being counter-sued if we see fit.
If you ever have any notion of leaving the team after your contract is through here, you are required to follow my orders. At the very least, we could make you quite undesirable for another team even if you were returned to your previous state. And that's if we choose to not divulge your current state and actions. Play by the rules and Jessie Holly and Jackson Hoyle will remain separate people in the public eye."
Hoyle slumped against the wall. He knew he had no leverage, even if she was full of crap about who he was required to follow.
The door burst open and Savannah bound into the room.
"Is she ready? Is she ready?!"
She let out an excited gasp and rushed to Hoyle's side.
"Holly! You look a-may-zing!"
He tried to shove her away, but Savannah grabbed his arm and spun him.
"Looking great. The doctor does wonderful work. You've never looked better, girl!"
She bound back to the door and collected a duffel bag in the team colors.
"Let's get to work!"
Savannah laid out a new uniform on the bed and motioned to Hoyle.
"As the newest member of the squad, you will report to me from now on. You follow the guidebook same as the other girls. You wear the uniform, you check in with me, and you work. Hard. Suit up."
Hoyle picked up the feminine undergarments before him and felt defeated. He changed quickly, too ashamed and angry to look at his body that he quickly threw on the top and skirt. Savannah motioned to the doctor.
"Are the boots ready to come off?"
With a nod, the two sat Hoyle down and yanked them free. Hoyle looked over at his legs, now beautifully curved and shapely, with his feet delicately pointing out. He stood and winced as he flattened them on the ground.
Doctor Lavender smiled. "You healed perfectly. The way your muscles have been rearranged, standing flat like that will quickly cause you undue strain. A heel of at least three inches or so is recommended to keep your feet in the proper position."
As the days passed, Hoyle was indoctrinated into his new role. He was kept to the cheering squad's quarters and spent his days flanked and judged by his new squadmates. They kept their new sister on track, adhering to the squad guidelines, and coddled her like a doll. Their former affection and doting was now sinister to Hoyle and their coos and giggles were like fingernails on a chalkboard.
During the process, Hoyle was regularly visited by the doctor and subjected to daily injections and continued medication. His hair grew at an unnatural speed and he was filling out his uniform more with each passing day.
After he was able to primp and preen to the squad guidelines, Savannah and her crew ran Hoyle through his paces. From sun up to sun down, he was either on the field practicing routines, in the squad gym stretching and working on gymnastics, or had his thoughts drowned out by looping tapes of the team cheers and rallies.
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Hoyle landed and pivoted on the heeled boots before stumbling back and plopping to the ground. He rubbed his bare bottom and groaned as he wobbled back to his feet.
"Jessie! Get it together! It's a simple maneuver." Savannah angrily pointed to the other members that successfully landed with the proper pose.
"This is your fault! Don't take this out on me. If you'd stop sending me off for those injections, I wouldn't be ballooned out like this!" Hoyle cupped his chest, which now strained against the uniform. "I can't be bounding around out here like... like... ugh, this."
Savannah brushed off her new charge and smiled coldly.
"If you could land your routines, we wouldn't need to send you to the doctor for booster shots. You're not the best gymnast, love, so we need you to at least look good doing what little you can."
She clapped her hands and motioned in a circle.
"From the top, ladies!"
There was a silent acceptance of the new cheerleader among the team. It was as if Jackson Hoyle was erased from history. Even Wallace turned his back on Hoyle and Holly became all there ever was. As soon as the team started winning again, the questions stopped and the cheerleaders were the stars of the show. Thanks to Holly, the team was invigorated, the wins started up again, and the crowds came out in force, but not always to watch the game. With Savannah ensuring the squad was properly compensated, they were happy to play along with their new member and put her out in the limelight. With each Holly shirt, calendar, and doll sold, the squad rallied harder and the team did better.
Jessie Holly was the face, and bust, of the Bayview Shipmen. Minor jealousies sprang up, so Savannah allowed the team to make appearances in Holly's commercials and advertising. Of course, she kept quiet on the fact that the squad's bonuses led them to being better compensated than the players, just to keep the peace.
Doctor Lavender knock on the office door and let herself in.
"Coach."
He nodded and tipped his cap as he looked up from the playbook.
"Ms. Holly's contract has been renewed. I will inform her that she signed on for another cycle when she returns from tonight's modeling shoot."
"Did we at least get enough for the team? I need to recruit new players. If we can't get out there to play-"
"The owners know what brings the crowds out, sir. But yes, funds have been released to bring on some new players. However, the investors have given their approval for some more interesting projects. The debates are still going on, but where do you fall on the topic? Should my services be used to expand to other teams in different markets or should we stay local and start working with the other Bayview franchises? I hear your baseball team isn't living up to its promise."
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Read more Mercynaries comics and stories at: http://www.sincomics.com/ddg.php
So Long Salon
A Mercynaries Story from SinComics.com
Terence slid the key into the heavy lock the bank had placed on the property's door. Realty assessment could be a grim job in this economy and Terence felt like a mortician on some nights. But this was his final job for the week. One more assessment and then he could put his feet up and relax back home without having to worry about squatters, leaky pipes, or looted copper wire. He skimmed over the paperwork on his phone, happy knowing he had all weekend to complete and submit the assessment. Tonight's lucky corpse was a shuttered salon. It wasn't a new story though. The owner took out a loan when the market was at its high point, spent a lot and built the place up, but then the economy tanked, revenue dried up, the owner skipped town rather than paying her bills, and now Terence had to lay the place to rest.
It was a nice shop though, especially compared to some of the other places he has assessed. When it was open, it was probably fairly stylish. Terence looked over the décor and assumed it catered to some high end clientele. Even in its death, it was in good shape. No bare wiring, no signs of break-ins or infestations, and no cracked windows or holes in the floors or walls. He'd seen his share of cases where the owners didn't take kindly to their foreclosures and wrecked their joints before leaving. Heck, this place was barely even dusty. Terence walked through the main rooms, made his notes on materials left behind like dryers and chairs and cabinets left filled with all kinds of creams, shampoos, rinses, and other beauty unguents he could barely identify. He was strictly a store-brand on-sale all-purpose shampoo man, thank you very much.
The salon could be turned into something nice if a new owner would pick up the property. The location was a little out of the way, but it was a cute shop, spacious but still friendly, and there was even a studio upstairs that doubled for an apartment. You can't have a better commute than that. The place was even still furnished. That always helped show off the property to a new buyer, or it could all be hauled off to a charity shop and everybody involved would feel good about themselves. Terence marked off some of the final notes on his walk-through and headed back downstairs for one last rundown of the storage room and then he was home free.
It was pitch black in the back of the shop, away from the welcoming glass windows of the entrance and the moonlight shining through. Terence fumbled around the walls to find any shutters or blinds to open up, but this room was sealed off from the rest. He turned around to leave but saw nothing but the still black. The assessor twisted and shuffled around a bit and grumbled to himself for managing to get lost in a storage room. He must have turned a corner somewhere in the dark. Or the door had a spring and closed on its own. Terence saved and closed his notes on his phone and switched to a flashlight app, then the room lit up with the dim glow of the device. No sooner than Terence gotten his bearings did the phone blink and the low battery notice nagged him from the screen. He quickly scrambled to the settings menu to turn off anything nonessential but phone flashed once more and shut down, leaving him in the dark again. Terence swore he had charged it that morning.
Bumbling through the darkness, Terence stepped on a metal canister. The round object slipped from under his foot and skidded across the room, sending the assessor stumbling forward, desperately grasping out for something to grab onto. He slammed towards the ground, knocking into a stack of boxes, with his fall just barely broken by a pile of junk on the ground. As he lay groaning, Terrence heard something shifting off to his side, followed by the thud of a box next to his shoulder, then a thump of something on top of his head, driving it into the floor. He saw colors flash in front of him, despite the darkness, and heard the clatter of metal objects and canisters hit the ground and roll away. One final can hit the floor with a crack and the high pitched whine of pressurized gas escaping. It twirled around, driven by the escaping gas, and Terence sputtered as he took a blast if it to the face. He could taste the bitter chemicals in his mouth and while it burned his throat and skin for only a split second, he gagged and his head swam.
The world ebbed back to Terence slowly. The ringing in his ears subsided quickly, but he smacked his tongue to try to clear out the acrid taste. His vision was black and he quietly prayed it was because the room was still dark and not from taking a blast of some beauty product to the eyes or his retinas detaching from the blow to the head. He startled when he reminded himself about being hit, what if he had a concussion?! How long was he out? You're supposed to sleep it off, right? No, you're not supposed to sleep. Why shouldn't you sleep; that doesn't make sense. He frantically patted his head but heard the soft crunch and shuffle of plastic instead. Confused, he felt around and discovered he had some kind of plastic sheet or cap draped over him. Terence tugged at it but it stayed fast. Running his fingers along the edge, there was some kind of sticky... goo drying along the perimeter. He slumped back down and steadied himself. It was either some product from those boxes or massive blood loss from a head wound. He didn't FEEL like he was bleeding out, so it was probably the former. He continued exploring with his fingers and felt streaks and splotches of the goop on his face too and the ground around him was tacky as well. If all that was blood, he was dead. But Terence was fairly sure the Afterlife didn't look like a dark warehouse, so he shook it off and propped himself up on his elbows.
The assessor pushed the junk and boxes off of himself and without their covering, he felt a chill. He could feel his skin against the cold storeroom floor and the tacky remains of the dried goo. As he stirred, something brushed against his leg and it sent shivers up his spine. He exhaled and told himself it was just some of the junk sliding off, but he felt it again. Firmer this time, like it was grasping him, but with a soft touch. Terence frantically flailed and kicked as he backed away from the pile. It could be an infestation! Bugs, or worse, rats. If he got salmonella or plague from rodents crawling on him, he was going to condemn the hell out of this property and see it torn down, viable business land or not.
Terence shuffled around until he found the wall and steadied himself. He slowly made his way around the room, keeping one hand on the wall and slowly sliding his feet across the ground to prevent another spill. There was something draped or wrapped around his arm but priority one was freeing himself from the dark room and its phantom rats. His fingers brushed against a cold metal bump on the wall and then a wooden protrusion. He'd never been so happy to feel a door! He patted it down under he found the handle and hit it the surface hard to force it open.
Even the soft moonlight stung his eyes as he was spat out from the darkness. Terence slammed the door behind him as he scrambled out of the hallway. He felt something slough off his arm and through his returning vision, saw a goop encrusted scrap of his shirt plop to the ground. No wonder he was cold, that crap in the boxes ate through his clothing. A rogue thought about filing for hazard pay if he had any chemical burns crossed his mind. Shaking off the worst of the rags, the tug on his arm groped him again and he then felt a tug across his chest. There was some kind of cloth wrapped around him, no... a bra? Terence yanked on him, but it was already around his shoulder and snapped back into place. He grabbed for the straps but doubted his sanity as he swore he saw it move up his arm and settle on his shoulder. A gentle brush against his back sent him scramble for the rogue article but as he fumbled with it, the underwear clasped itself. The mental narrative he formed about it being stuck from dried on goo became harder to hold onto as he glanced down and saw a similar shimmer of silk around his waist from under the tatters of his pants.
His brain commandingly decided it was time to get out of the rundown shop and Terence headed straight for the front door. His arm shot out to the handle and he leaned out with his shoulder, but Terence smushed into the door and conked his head on the glass. The assessor stumbled back and there was the lock and key on the shop's floor. He pushed against the door again, but it was stuck tight. He pounded on the glass, desperate for some kind of passing motorist or a coworker sent out for him after he didn't report in that night. But the assessment wasn't due until Monday; nobody would think twice about him not filing anything late on a Friday. Terence pressed himself tighter against the door and continued pounding on it. A shiver ran up his spine again and the straps on the bra pressed into his skin. A pressure built up and discomfort from being tight against the glassed phased him, until a sudden swelling of his chest forced him back from the door. It almost felt like a relief to not be against the wall, like the pressure inside him was now free to continue pushing and inflating outwards. It happened so suddenly that Terrence couldn't process what he was seeing. The cups of the bra latched onto him rising and filling out with each breath. Terence gawked down at them, backing up, mindlessly trying to back peddle away from what was happening. Leaning back in horror, he bumped into the metal footrest of one of the salon chairs, lost his balance, and tumbled back into it was a cushioned plop. No sooner than Terence touched the chair did he exhale with a grunt as he shuddered. He felt the build up, pressure, and release he felt in his chest happen almost instantly in his hips, thighs, and backside. Terence rose to jump up but jolted and snapped back into the chair. He was stuck tight, wedged into the seat and pressed against the padded sides.
The lingering spilled chemicals and ointments started to cause his face to tingle while a low heat built under the cap on his head. Despite everything happening to him, Terence was never in any pain. The smells of the products would actually have been soothing, were he not trapped, alone, and under attack by unseen forces.
Trying to extricate himself from the chair, Terence pushed back on the armrests as hard as he could but to no avail. To get get better leverage, he stamped his feet down, but instead of hitting the ground, he felt plastic and something wrapping around his ankles. Angling past his swollen chest, the assessor saw a pair of white heels bending his feet down while straps wound around him. He kicked vigorously but the shoes stayed put and hugged his feet tightly.
The commotion was a strain on Terence's body and fighting back drained him, leaving him weak and groggy. He had no intention of giving in, but panic was giving way to a sense of defeat. The chair shook and spun him towards the mirror, with the very building seemingly pleased with itself. Terence looked into the face of the woman in the mirror in astonishment. Her jaw hung open and she looked back with inviting eyes and pouty lips. Her bust proudly sticking out from the tattered remains of his work shirt and that cap over her head... The plastic cap was practically throbbing, the thin coating stretched as far it could stand. Terence could feel the pressure building inside until it burst open like a Jiffy Pop and the remnants fluttered down to the ground. Perched on top of his head was an exquisitely wrapped bouffant that wobbled as he leaned in. He couldn't take any more and fought against the chair, tugging and pulling to free himself from its grasp. There was a quick slip on his side and he was practically ejected from the chair, stumbling forward, dragged by the weight on his head and new curves. Terence steadied himself on the wall and did a quick survey of the room. The front door was sealed and he wasn't willing to try for an exit through the storage room, but maybe... Maybe he could squeeze through a window. Seemingly in response to his thoughts, he felt the pressure build up in his chest once more and his bra was tight, all the former slack taken up by his curves. He wrapped his arms around his chest, hoping to hold back any more changes and ran for the stairs.
Clacking from his heels pounding against the wooden steps echoed through the abandoned shop. Terence crashed onto the apartment door, forcing it open before slipping inside and slamming it shut in hopes of sealing out the malevolent forces of the shop downstairs. Bright light disoriented him as he looked around the room. It made no sense that the electricity would be on, the bank had it shut down once the payments stopped. Confused and unsteady, Terence wandered through the living space. He hadn't realized how tired he was and his muscles ached from what he'd been through. A sweet perfume entered his lungs as he gasped for air and it quickly grew overpowering. Terence shuffled over to the bed and collapsed on to it. He just needed to rest for a moment, to catch his breath and calm down. Then he could figure a way out. He tried to prop himself up on his arm, but sleep quickly overtook him.
Terence startled awake, the events of the night before suddenly flooding back. He was somehow wrapped up in the silk sheets of the bed. He kicked them off and back-peddled off the bed to come face to face with a floor-length mirror. The woman he saw last night returned to gawk back him. Despite just waking up, her hair was still perfectly coiffed and her makeup subtle but on point. Instead of the tattered remains of his old clothing, he was now wearing a low cut shirt that proudly displayed his cleavage and tight midriff. The rest of his curves were snuggly ticked into a taught pair of capri pants that stopped just below his knees. Even his feet were still sporting the heels.
Terence wandered through the living space, now bright and tidy without a spot of dust in sight. Passing by a table in the hallway, he noticed a tablet with a blinking message. His hope of contacting the outside world was quickly raised but then he thought over how it got there and if that meant somebody else was around or even knew he was here. He tentatively tapped the blinking icon and a message started to play.
"Welcome to the Salon Déesse! We're thrilled you've joined our employ and started your work with our team. The shop opens every day at 10 and the administrative office will handle all orders and shipments. As long as you keep styling, we'll take care of everything!"
Terence's mind reeled as he tried to process what he was hearing. He snapped back to the message and listened as it ran down instructions on how to open and close the shop, processes, and what was stored within. The jaunty voice thanked him once more and signed off. He desperately pawed at the device for some kind of connection or reply button, but it was now blank. A lone icon indicated that the welcome message was ready to be replayed but offered no way to get an outside line or reach a human being.
Clomping footsteps and the ring of a doorbell shook Terence from his stupor. He heard a thud and boxes sliding downstairs and he ran for the door. Pinballing down the stairwell as he bounced and wobbled down the steps, just barely maintaining his balance, Terence saw a fresh crate of supplies in the middle of the lobby. The now clean and brightly decorated lobby. One that looked like it had never seen a day out of commission, with soft inviting light, a water fountain happily gurgling away, and music softly playing overhead. The sputter of a truck's engine grabbed Terence's attention and he rushed over the door, yanking the handle, but it stayed closed. He pounded on the glass shouting to the delivery driver, but the man in the truck misconstrued the woman inside's flailing and just gave a friendly wave good-bye as the truck pulled out onto the road and drove away.
Terence sunk to the floor, defeated. After several moments to compose himself, he walked over to the box and popped it open. Inside were smaller boxes, neatly packed to the brim with fresh supplies and cosmetics. Everything inside was unassuming and gave no indication of ghostly presences stealing a person's manhood and trapping him in an unholy salon. The message had told him that if he kept the store running, everything would be okay. It was the only thing he had to go on and the only hope he had, so Terence unpacked the box and started to put away the supplies.
As he was arranging the final shelf of conditioners, the door jingled and swung open. A woman in a pale pink business suit sashayed through the door, looked around, hung up her purse, and came over to Terence for a hug. He stared at her dumbfounded as she released him and helped herself to a chair.
"Darling, I'm thrilled to see you're available! You know, I wasn't even sure you were still open!" She leaned back, released her hair from her ponytail, and shook it out before taking a magazine and flipping through it. Terence stared at the back of her head, frozen and confused. He could barely hear the woman's idle chatter and gossip as his panicked mind raced through what to do. Just as he was about to blurt out a sorry excuse about needing to close or the stylist being away, he felt a throbbing in his head. A moment later, he recovered and he had a vague sense that he knew what to do. He paused again and ran through what just happened. He somehow gained years of styling experience, like this body, or the shop itself, demanded he go through with what was before him.
Terence calmed himself and mentally checked out, allowing his new instincts to take over as he clipped and curled and primped and prissed with this strange woman. As he came back to himself, he realized that the woman was finished up her story. She put her magazine down, patted her new waves and admire herself in the mirror, and rose to give Terence another hug with a promise to be back soon. As she grabbed her purse and left, Terence reflected on the insanity of what occurred. How did he know... WHY did he know? He placed his palms against his head and panicked. Was this sudden flood of training and knowledge going to displace other information? Was he going to lose a lifetime of expertise for a beauty school degree? He had to get out before he found the answer. Terence ran for the door and pulled with all his might but it wouldn't budge. He banged against the glass and resigned himself. Work was the only way out of this and he had to play along with this sick game.
Terence spent the rest of the day helping customers and trying his best to let his new auto-pilot take over. He effortlessly made his way through cuts and perms or stylings and dye jobs until the evening came and the customers dried up. The register powered itself down, signaling that he was freed for the night. Playing the events of the day back in his head, Terence was awed and ashamed of himself. The day had been practice for handling his new body as he bumped into people with his chest and bottom, unaware of his center of gravity and how his curves took up space. He thought nothing about bending over to pick up the change he dropped until he heard the muffled approval of the customers he just flashed his butt too. It was sure to lead to repeat customers, but he bent at the knees from that point on.
After tidying up the store and following the instructions to document supplies that would need to be restocked, Terence tried the door in one last attempt at escaping for the night, sighed, closed the shop, and headed upstairs to what he presumed was now his apartment. As he swung past the table in the hall, he noticed that the tablet was blinking again and the new message icon was lit up. He cautiously poked it and heard the cheery tones of the mysterious caller.
"Congratulations on your first day, stylist! I'm sure you did wonderful and will only get better with practice. We believe in a good work-life balance so our shops close early to let you enjoy the evening. Get plenty of rest and look forward to exciting days ahead. If you're feeling overworked, please signal this and a representative will aid you in creating a new assistant."
Terence recoiled at the sinister implications of the upbeat message. Did they... want to use him to recruit... to do THIS to others? He shook his head vigorously, the motion flowing through his updo and chest. He'd have no part in their plan. He was going to retain his humanity and as much dignity as he could muster.
An investigation of the apartment revealed no means of escape or signaling for help. His own phone remained drained and lifeless, while the company tablet showed no signs of allowing him to contact anyone. With a mixture of defeat and resignation, Terence slunk to the bedroom to prepare for the night. His feet suddenly felt different and he looked down to see the straps in his heels were now undone. He quickly slipped out of them, but reflected on how natural it all felt. He'd been wearing high heels for the first time in his life and for all day, but he felt fine. If anything, he felt a tinge of strangeness to have his feet flat on the ground. He shook the feeling from his mind and refused to allow anything about this to feel "normal". Terence dug through the dressers but was confronted with exactly what he expected. It was stack after stack of skimpy clothing and lacy lingerie. He perused the drawer and found the least revealing item, a silk nightie decorate with a tiny bow in the center of the cleavage. He squeezed out of the day's costume and into the new outfit before trying to get comfortable in the bed.
Sunday played out similarly to his first day, only now, Terence was able to more effortlessly move through the morning crowd, fake interest in the chatty customers' tales and gossip, and tried hard to not make a show of himself to those trying to sneak peeks. Around mid-day, the waiting area was cleared out and two women entered together. They spent some time in the entrance way, looking over the store, and doing a poor job of not focusing on Terence's curves.
"May I... help you?"
The redhead smiled and stepped forward. "Just in for an appointment. My partner here will wait."
Terence motioned for the redhead to sit down and he looked over the blonde. "That's a lot of hair to just wait."
The blonde woman glowered back before haughtily sitting down and shoving her face in a magazine.
The redhead was still eyeing the shop and the products around her. "So... Tell me about the shop. And yourself!"
Terence had made up a story about picking up the shop from the former owner after she went on vacation. It seemed to pacify the other customers' concerns about the salon's sudden reappearance, but the redhead seemed to mull it over more. She made him nervous, so Terence got straight to undoing her pigtails and brushing them out. She really did have beautiful hair and hadn't actually asked for a cut or style, so he got to work conditioning and working out any stray hairs.
As he spritzed her locks with various products, the woman calmed down and stopped looking so curious and suspicious. She nodded calmly and politely to Terence's suggestions, almost leading him over to the salon's dryer. She settled into her treatment with a smile and Terence looked her over. He was sure it was his imagination but she seemed... rounder. She was certainly cute before but she filled out her jeans more and her sweater seemed tighter. He hadn't meant to- The salon-
"What are you doing!?" Terence hadn't heard the blonde come over and now she was right behind him. Angry.
"I-It's just a dryer. She's-"
The blonde glared at Terence like he was an idiot and reached out for her partner. "Mercy! Wake up! You're-"
The redhead waved off her friend. "Ruth, calm down. I'm fine."
Ruth tugged on the dryer and pushed Terence back. "Your chest, you dolt!"
"Feels great! Let me be."
The blonde swung around and raised her first at Terence. "If you don't get her out of there, this instant... I'm shutting you and this nightmare down!"
Terence cowered back. "I didn't do it! It's this place- I can't-"
"Likely story, witch!" She stepped forward and grabbed Terence's shoulder. He grimaced and put his hands up, but the hit never came. "W-well?"
Terence slowly opened his eyes. "'Well' what?"
The blonde loosened her grip. "This is where you guys usually fight back and try to stop us. You know, from stopping you." Terence just stared back, confused and scared. Ruth settled down, embarrassed by her violent reaction. "Uhhh... Why don't you explain what's going on here?"
Terence ran through everything that happened to him over the past days. From filling out the assessment, being doused in the storage room, trapped in the shop and unable to stop the changes, the room upstairs and the messages, to the customers and the call for an assistant. Ruth stood silently during the story. She was unphased by the rambling madness spewing from Terence and she simply took stock of the situation. When he was finished, she put a hand on his shoulder and asked to see the storage area.
In the back of the shop, Terence hid in the doorway while Ruth rummaged through the boxes, looking over the products inside and holding them up to the clunky green watch around her hand. She carelessly tossed a bottle of shampoo to the ground and shrugged. "I'm not getting any strong chemical readings or like... evil super science."
"I'm not making this up! I swear I-"
Ruth stepped forward, "Whoa, whoa. Nobody is saying that. We just need to look elsewhere."
The pair searched the upstairs apartment but found nothing overtly out of the ordinary. Ruth had a silent understanding of Terence's frustration with the skimpy outfits for his busty frame, but they found nothing insidious. She looked over the tablet, but it was suspiciously uninteresting. It had no screws or latches and no ports to plug anything into it. Ruth sighed and slapped the tablet against her leg in frustration. "Mercy is the one that's pretty lucky finding these things, but she's... Wait, where did she go?!" Ruth bolted down the stairs and Terence wobbled off after her at a much slower pace.
Down in the shop, Mercy was blowing kisses to her reflection in the mirror and giggling. She stopped and applied a layer of gloss to her made-up and plump lips before going back to puckering up. Ruth grumbled in concern at what the shop had done to her friend and angrily poked at the tablet again. The introductory message started to play and Ruth's watch beeped to life.
"It's getting a signal of some kind?"
Terence shrugged. "I couldn't find a way to call out with it. And my phone died when I got in here."
"You said a second message appeared after you started here, so it has to be receiving something too..." She fiddled with her watch, replaying the messages over and over. Finally, she stopped and pumped her fists. "I think I got something! We can trace it back to the source."
Ruth looked over at her partner, now mulling over different shades of eye shadow like it was the most important decision she'd ever made. "Can you keep an eye on her? I'm going to check this out, so like make sure she doesn't drink anything weird or dump chemicals or herself. Or flirt with anybody!"
Terence nodded. Ruth slapped her watch and a green doorway appeared before them. She jumped in and it disappeared with her. Mercy smiled from off to the side. "That was pretty!"
Ruth and the door rematerialized in an empty, unlit room. She ventured out and saw a large cosmetics store, but it was completely unmanned and the only light came though a skylight in the roof. Glass display cases were filled with various cosmetics and beauty products but that was the only thing in the showroom.
Ruth made her way through building, moving as silently as she could, but the place was deserted. Closets held boxes of the same cosmetics on display, but held no other supplies or items. She made her way to a room in the back and her device blipped again. Sitting on a desk in the otherwise empty room was a small black laptop. She poked it to life and saw the same two messages that had been sent to Terence. Ruth excitedly looked over the machine but found no ports on this one either and the keyboard unresponsive. Her device confirmed that the signal was coming from the laptop. With no other interaction possible, Ruth took the next logical step and hurled the laptop against the concrete walls and smashed it to bits. Her device indicated that the signal was no longer broadcasting but the building made no indication of the change. Ruth silently moved through it once more, but no alarms blared and no heavily armed beautician cabals attacked her. Content the signal was shut down and that she got to take her frustration out on something, Ruth activated her device and hopped into the green door again.
Ruth appeared back at the salon to find a giddy Terence standing outside. He ran at Ruth, smushing into her with a big hug. "The doors! They opened up right before you got back!"
"Mercy?! Is she-" Ruth dashed back into the shop to see her friend slumped over on a chair, clutching her head and groaning.
"Ruuuth... I feel like... super hung over. And not in a good way."
Ruth slapped her partner on the back and propped her up. "You had me worried there. The drag queen look doesn't suit you."
"What are you-" Mercy pivoted towards the mirror and her jaw dropped. "What happened to meee?!" She started to furiously scrub the make up on her face to little effect.
"Probably going to take some time for that goop to wear off." She gave Mercy another pat on the back and went back out to Terence.
He was leaning against the building clutching his chest. "I think I feel them getting smaller!"
Ruth quizzically raised an eyebrow. "I think you're going to take some time too. We'll see if we can do anything to speed up the process. Least we can do is get you some pants or shave your head."
Mercy shuffled out of the store, moaning and grumbling to herself. She saw her short-time co-worker and gave him a commiserating nod.
Ruth chuckled and gestured back inside. "Let's close this place down and get you cleaned up. Hey, it will be like another makeover!"
Terence and Mercy glared at her.
Back in the abandoned cosmetics store, the laptop sparked as the last of its energy drained away. Deep in the facility, a server whirred to life and a solitary red light quietly flashed in the dark. Around the edges of the room, a string of laptops safely nestled in their docks surged awake and started to broadcast their employment notifications.
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Read more Mercynaries comics and stories at: http://www.sincomics.com/ddg.php
The Ring of Competition
A Mercynaries Story from SinComics.com
The musty air of the ancient temple gasped through the small crack the pickaxe made in the landslide. After several strikes, the rocks were cracked enough that their own weight brought them tumbling down to the floor and let light shine into an entryway that hadn't been used since the gods roamed the lands. Two hooded figures threw down ropes and shimmied down to the rubble.
"See? Told you there was a temple down here!" The first figure removed his hood and surveyed the scene. He brushed the pebbles out of his blonde hair, now gray with dust and cobwebs older than his own civilization. After storing the pick in his rucksack, he bowed to his partner.
"You did good, Riley." The other hooded figured ruffled his hair and surveyed the entrance.
"Don't bend over backwards congratulating me for finding a lost temple or anything, Rhonda."
His partner laughed and wiped a thick layer of dust off a statue. "Finding this joint was the easy part, now comes the fun part. Plunder!"
"Assuming we're not killed off by some protective wards, curses, or other kinds of magical traps."
"That's why I'm here, lad." She cracked her knuckles and wiggled her fingers at the long hallway leading into the dark. "If you want to loot something without dying, you need the finest thief in the land."
"Second. Second finest thief," Riley grinned. He tossed Rhonda a torch and some matches and set off into the depths of the temple.
The robbers surveyed the temple as they made their way down the corridors and staircases. Most passages had long since crumbled with neglect, but the duo was able to clamber through the holes and cut through what overgrowth had found its way down into the temple.
Riley scrapped some dirt off a jewel embedded in a worn relief on the wall. "Look at this stuff! We must be the first people down here in forever. Nobody's even looted the easy pickings."
Rhonda looked up from dismantling the spring on a spike trap guarding a golden door. "We'll plunder those goods on the way back up. If we're right, the real stuff is just a bit further in. And don't touch that if you're fond having two hands."
Riley's arm shot back and he stopped fidgeting with what appeared to be just a normal sconce next to a torn tapestry. "Then lead on, miss. Beauty before talent."
Shoving a stone slab serving as a false wall out of the way, the rogues found themselves in an altar room tiled with jade stones and a sapphire path leading to a reflecting pool. It had long since dried up, but in the middle stood a pedestal with a prize ripe for the picking. Rhonda's arm came out and she held her partner back. "Give me a minute. It looks clear, but..." She went to work, pouring over the tiles in the pool and the pedestal itself, checking for any hidden traps, switches, or magical wards.
Riley beamed. "The Ring of Competition! An artifact forged by the gods themselves to give them complete mastery over any earthly matter..."
"Thanks for the exposition, professor." Rhonda gave him a playful punch in the shoulder. "Looks clean. However, there is but one ring and two dashing thieves in this room..."
Riley grinned and prepared something in his satchel. "And that little fact is why you need the finest thief in the land."
Rhonda gasped, "But of course I'm already here and- Oh, ohhh, you presumed yourself. How quaint."
They grinned to each other and Riley gently palmed the Ring. "All the myths say that these artifacts are so powerful that only one could ever be in existence at a time, but if we do this properly..." He spread a ward on the pedestal and lit the center with a match. "First, we start an invocation to get the attention of the divine beings holding our property, but then..." He held out his arm for Rhonda to grab his free hand, which she did. "If we maintain contact and split focus among ourselves while the ward is in play..." He slipped the Ring into his satchel, while maintaining focus on the ward, slowly backing away from the pedestal and out of the reflecting pool. Once they were out of the altar room, Riley shook his bag, causing the Ring to clatter to the floor. He finally broke contact with Rhonda, and reached back into the satchel. "One Ring on the ground and one-" He brought his hand back out. "-In my bag."
Rhonda gleefully clapped. "Amazing, my boy! A rather fantastical cheat, if I do say so myself."
He bowed once more. "A rather dangerous cheat I came across in my work. But one most useful. As long as you never get caught. And that, miss, is why I am the greatest thief of all time."
Rhonda deftly plucked the Rind from his hand and palmed it herself. "Second greatest."
With a sigh, Riley bent over and picked up his new ring from the ground. "So what do we do first? We're unstoppable now! Start entering feats of strength, trouncing the competition and cementing ourselves as the mightiest warriors in the realm? Entering sporting events, bringing home the accolades, prize money, and endorsements? Or do we play it simple, enter lotteries and let the easy money flow in?"
Rhonda clucked her tongue and put a hand on her partner's shoulder. "You think too small, good sir! For what is war but a competition between two kingdoms, and competitions we will surely win. We will be unstoppable in battle, overthrow kings, and have castles to ourselves." The team giggled with devilish glee and slipped the Rings onto their fingers.
Rhonda beamed as the Ring's emerald glittered in the dull torchlight. "Rather fashionable on top of it all!"
"The old gods had good taste. Not only am I a master thief, but now I'm the best looking too."
"Riley, dear, the second best. I'm MUCH cuter than you with this ring."
"The Competition Is Engaged."
Riley looked around the room for the booming voice that echoed through the halls. "Who said that?"
Rhonda glared back at her partner. "That wasn't you? If you didn't- Riley! Your Ring!"
The ring on Riley's finger started to pulse with a power through the emerald and it glowed with a misty green light. "The hell is that? Why is it- Why is everything glowing?"
Rhonda backed off away from him towards the wall. "It's not everything else, it's you! You're... you're green!" Riley flailed to try to shake off the green glow, but it quickly evaporated and drifted off of him like dissipating steam. "You're not green, you're..."
"What? What?!" Riley grasped at his throat and the words that came out oddly.
"You're... me!" Rhonda grabbed one of the silver plates adorning the relief on the wall and gave it a quick polish with her sleeve before shoving it at her partner.
Riley gaped into the reflective adornment and saw Rhonda's face staring back at him. He pawed at the face and hair, now clean and free of dust and debris. "This can't be!" Rhonda's hair- His hair flowed a little longer and over the collar of his hood. The former blonde, now a rich brown. He pulled forward a clump to get a better look and Rhonda leaned in.
"It looks like my hair, but the color is off. And it's a bit longer. But it looks-" She was cut off by the glow emanating her hand this time. "No! No, no, no!"
"The Competition Is Engaged."
The green glow swirled around Rhonda before burning off into the ether. She quickly grabbed the plate out of Riley's hands and was relieved to see herself in the reflection. She sighed and slumped forward in relief, causing locks of hair to fall forward onto her shoulders. She puzzled over the long locks, now the same luxurious chocolate brown as Riley's. Before she could speak, she exhaled sharply and clutched her chest.
"Rhonda! What's wrong?! Are you-"
"I think... My top just got tighter. They're... bigger!"
Riley whipped his head from side to side, causing the long strands of hair to flutter in the air. "It's the rings! They're trying to compete with each other!"
"Compete on what!? We didn't enter anything!"
"It's- It's what you said! Your stupid comment about looking better! Look what you did to me!"
"Don't yell at me! It's not my fault the Ring is stupid! Just- Here, just take it off until we can figure out how to work them." Rhonda tugged at her ring but it didn't budge. After seeing this, Riley yanked at his as well but with a similar result.
"It's not coming off! It's not coming off!"
"Riley! Calm down! Freaking out isn't going to help us. It has to have some kind of ward on it. We just need to find it and-"
"The Competition Is Engaged."
Riley waved his arm frantically as the Ring started to glow again. He had the wind knocked out of him as his new chest pushed out more against his shirt, then he tottered forward as his hips jutted back to emphasize his rear. He patted his new backside and winced. "Cut it off! Just- Get a knife!"
Rhonda quickly dropped her bag and dug through it, knowing if she didn't act fast enough, she'd suffer the same changes, but worse. "Here! Here! Hold out out your hand!" She motioned to Riley, jutting the knife forward. He put his hand down on the ground, forming a fist and sticking his ring finger out. Clamping his eyes shut to avoid the scene, Riley looked away as his partner brought the knife down onto his finger. He felt a slight pressure, but no pain. "It's not cutting!" Rhonda slammed the knife down onto his fingers several more times, but all for the same outcome. The knife pressed up against his skin but rolled off harmlessly.
"Give me that!" Riley yanked the knife from her hands and stabbed it into his hand, only to have to slide off and clink to the temple floor each time.
"The Competition Is Engaged."
Rhonda stumbled into Riley's arms as her hips and rear pushed out. "Riley! Help me!" She licked her lips as a strange feeling came over them. There was a new plumpness to them and she pursed them reflexively. "If we can't get it off our fingers, just crush them! Destroy the Ring!"
Riley ran over to a corroded pillar already leaning against the wall, no doubt damaged during the rock-slide that buried the temple eons ago. Placing his hand on the ground once more, Riley kicked at the base of the pillar, causing it to fracture and come crashing down. It slammed to the ground with a crash, kicking up a cloud of dust and fragments of the support. When the cloud cleared, Riley looked down to see the shattered debris of the pillar around his clean and healthy hand. The Ring shimmered in the torchlight, almost taking delight in the chaos around it.
Rhonda grabbed him by his cloak and threw his bag at his chest. "We're getting out of here!"
The thieves scrambled down the hallway back towards the staircase leading them out of the temple.
"The Competition Is Engaged."
The team arrived back in their village, the trip taking them much longer this time as their clothes had started shifting during the journey. Their boots turned to heels and their slacks into tights. Once loose fitting cloaks cinched into breezy tunics. Rhonda strode with anger at their predicament, while Riley lagged behind, his arms out at his sides unwilling to touch his cursed form.
Rhonda jerked her thumb towards the edge of town. "Somebody should still be in the church at this hour. We'll get these curses lifted and never speak of this again!" Riley nodded and they made their way to the church steps.
Inside, the old priest was tidying the temple for the night and greeted the rogues. "Welcome, my children. I sense... A great evil in your auras."
Riley rushed forward and clasped his hands together. "Yes. Yes! That's why we've come! Please, you have to remove this curse from us. We can pay or-"
The priest motioned for them to follow and slowly made his way to a dark room in the back of the building. "No, my child. Curing such evil is why we are here. Please, sit down." The pair obeyed and silently held hands while the priest gathered his supplies. He ambled his way back to the desk and removed several jars of lotions and incense. "Let me see the tainted objects."
The pair placed their hands on the desk and revealed the Rings. The priest was taken aback at first glance. "Such powerful magic!"
Rhonda meekly leaned forward. "Can you cure it, sir?"
The priest nodded. "It will take some time and effort, but I can surely-" He paused and looked intently at Rhonda's face. "You look... familiar."
Rhonda bolted back in her chair and waved him off. "No, no. It's our first time in this village. Quite lovely and all."
The priest glowered. "No, I recognize that face. You did something... Trying to change your look, but I recognize you!" He looked over at Riley and back at Rhonda. "It was one of you! One of you is the thief we caught stealing from the reliquary!"
Rhonda groaned and Riley glared at her. "Rhonda! The money you gave me for your half of the map..."
"It was nothing. They were old bones just sitting in a cabinet. Nobody was using them and I needed some quick cash, so... Ya know."
The priest shook his fist at her. "Those were the bones of a sainted disciple! They were irreplaceable holy relics passed down through the ages! Get out! Get out of my church!" The team jumped out of their chairs and backed up towards the door. The old priest continued shuffling towards them, shaking a fist towards the heavens and muttering. "It serves you right! The gods are punishing you for your wicked ways! No respect! I'm going to spread the word. No church will help you. Mark my words!"
Rhonda grabbed Riley's arm and pulled him out of the room. "Ugh. Old people! I was so sure he'd be all decrepit and have bad eyesight or something. I can't believe he remembered me!"
Riley was about to chew his partner out for being caught on what should have been a simple heist, but the Ring answered for him.
"The Competition Is Engaged."
The protective gloves on his arms tightened and slithered up his forearms until they became elegant, silk gloves not suited for any kind of work or combat. He winced as the Ring then went on to one-up Rhonda's look and two opalescent earrings pierced his lobes. With a sigh, he abandoned reproaching his partner and looked over to the village tavern. "Let's get something to eat and think of a plan."
The thieves dejectedly slid into a booth at the back of the tavern. It was late at night, so most of the patrons were passed out at the bar, leaving only a scattered handful at the tables. Riley squirmed, feeling his new round backside meet the plush seating. "What are we going to do, Rhonda?!"
She tapped her temples against her head, both in thought and anger. "I'm not sure yet. We'll think of something. There's got to be some kind of-"
"Well, lookie here! We got some fancy new folk in our town." Two drunken warriors sidled up to the table and eyed the rogues. Judging by their shabby armor, they were simple town guards. "And twins too!" The guards slid into the booth next to the thieves and looked them up and down.
The other guard threw his arm around Rhonda's shoulder. "What are you hot things doing in this dump? Mmmmm, can't tell which one of you is more fine."
"The Competition Is Engaged."
Riley and Rhonda looked at each other in panic. The Ring glowed and a layer of lipstick appeared on Rhonda's face, making her lips look moist and plump. The strange voice and sudden change made no impact on the unwanted guests.
The guard on Riley's side pulled the thief in close, pinning his arms and preventing him from pushing away. "I think it's my girl. Look at that body. That's somebody that's never known hard work. Must be some rich party girls from the big city."
Rhonda's guard patted her behind and guffawed. "Naw, naw. It's this one. If you could see what I'm looking at!" The two drunkenly guffawed and slapped their hands on the table.
"The Competition Is Engaged."
"What, no! So soon!?" Riley glowed once more and groaned as his chest puffed out again, pushing his tunic out and giving the guards a view of his cleavage. Not that the guard next to him noticed the change. "How are they not freaked out by the magic in front of them?!"
Rhonda grunted, sidling away from the guard as much as she could in the confined space. "They're drunk and stupid." She elbowed the guard off as he tried to lean in. "Or maybe we're the only ones that can hear the Ring's voice since we're the ones wearing it."
"We have to leave. This idiots might cause us to change faster and faster!"
Rhonda nodded and reached into her satchel. "I'm right there with you." She extracted a knife from her bag and deftly twirled it in her finger before jamming it between the plates of the guard's armor.
He yelped in pain and grabbed his side. It caused just enough of a distraction for Riley's chaperon to loosen his grip, wriggle free, grab his satchel, and swing it into the guard's nose. Clutching his face, he backed up, allowing Riley to slide up and over the table. He grabbed the other guard's collar and Rhonda pushed and they ran for the exit, their heels clacking on the tavern floor.
Outside, they slipped around the side of the tavern and headed towards a dark alley. They both panted and leaned against the wall for support. Their new bodies weren't designed for action and the changes were burning away muscles and coordination built through years of looting and heisting.
"Riley, we have to get out of town. The more people see us, the faster we're going to change..."
"I have a hideout. In the forest. I use it to recover after jobs. It's not much but-"
Rhonda grabbed his arm. "We're going. Now!"
Some time later, a green portal shimmered into existence in the town's center. Shortly after its creation, two women popped out and immediately started bickering.
"Mercy!" The tan blonde shouted. "You opened it up right in the middle of town! Now everybody is going to know something is up and panic!"
Her red-headed compatriot stamped her foot down and leaned in, raising a fist bearing a white gauntlet. "It's not like I control this thing! And it's not like it's my fault if people start- Not doing anything?" The pair surveyed the town and the small group of people that stopped to witness the scene, shrug, and move along with their day.
"Oh, boss!" The blonde pumped her fist. "We're in a world with magic. Everybody probably just thinks you're a dope and not like a demon god defying reality. That's good."
"Don't speak so soon! It's- It's horrible! My- My costume!" Mercy bunched up her robe and grabbed at the ornaments adorning it. "I think I'm a wizard here!" She groaned and rested her head in her partner's ample bosom.
Ruth patted her friend's head and started looking around. "There, there. I'm sure it takes time as a wizard before you start sucking or turning into a jerk. Let's finish this one quickly."
Mercy pouted and followed behind. "Easy for you to say... Dressed like a knight-y fighter warrior lady..."
The pair searched the town and interrogated the populace for the whereabouts of strangers with magical relics, not counting themselves. After a fruitless search and many badgered civilians, the team headed to the tavern for a break and to sample the realm's taste in booze. Upon entering, they spied a town guard nursing a stein and rubbing a bandaged side. Mercy, the not-wizard, nudged her ally. "Suspicious!"
Ruth nodded and sidled up to the bar. "Nasty wound there, friend and totally a fellow guard." The man looked her up and down, acknowledged he'd never seen her before and she probably wasn't actually a guard, and returned to his beer. He'd had enough of strange bimbos in the tavern to last him awhile. "So... any chance there was something strange about how you came across that wound?" The guard grunted and turned away from her. A barmaid strode over and patted Ruth on the shoulder.
"Don't mind him. Wasn't thinking with his proper head, lady didn't take too kindly to it and nicked him one in the side." She leaned in closer. "Kind of deserved it, in my opinion."
The duo turned away from the guard and focused on the woman. The redhead nodded quickly. "Anything recognizable about the person that did it? Strangeness? Kind of a magic-y feel?"
The barmaid blinked for a few seconds and returned focus to the blonde. "It was a pair of them. The thieving types. Hooded tunic, muddy satchels, but fancy jewelry. Probably up to no good."
The team nodded excitedly at the description. "Know where we might find her?"
"Just follow the path to the woods. That's bandit territory. Assuming you don't get knifed, you'll find some of the rogue types out there."
Mercy pumped her fist. "We know where to go!"
Ruth grumbled. "I don't want to get knifed again. That's never fun."
Ruth slammed the highwayman to the ground and gave him a swift kick to the ribs. "You okay, Merc?"
Mercy grimaced as she plucked an arrow out of her back. "Bastard shot me! In the back!" She put her hands on her knees and breathed deeply as the blood on the wound quickly clotted and the hole sealed itself. "Just- Just give me a sec to recover. And leave one of them conscious for questioning!"
"Right, right." Ruth counted off the battered bandits surrounding them. "Oooh, there's one that hasn't passed out. We're in the clear!" She strode over and flipped the hood onto his back using her boot. "I need some answers, boy. We're looking for a thief. A lady one. Probably pretty hot but also probably angry."
The bandit blubbered. "I'll talk, I'll talk. Just don't tell her I sent you her way! She's ferocious and nobody's ever been able to gank her! She promised that if we left her alone, she'd stop beating us."
"Sounds like our client. Now talk!"
The team followed the bandit's instructions through the rotting oak trees until they picked up a stream running through the woods. They followed this to a grove with several small huts in the trees and at their bases. Mercy pointed to one. "Look, there's a light in that one. Let's go." They climbed the steps and knocked gently on the door. "Hello? We're here to help." There was no answer. The pair looked to each other, shrugged, and pushed the door open.
Inside the hut was a woman curled in a bed staring at the ceiling. She had an extreme hourglass figure straining against a tight mini-dress. The scarf around her neck only served to draw the eye to her cleavage more. Her arms and legs were adorned with shimmering silk gloves and stockings and her feet in boots with a spiked heel several inches high. Full, wavy hair enveloped her and spread across the bed to the floor. Spangly earring clattered as she looked over at the pair and they saw the expertly done eyeliner and lipstick she sported. "What do you want?" she mumbled with a voice that still sounded sultry despite the tone.
Mercy waved and triumphantly explained, "We're here to get you fixed up!"
The woman sighed and turned back to staring at the ceiling. "Nothing works. The Ring doesn't come off."
Ruth slowly walked over to her side and squatted next to the bed. "That's what we can do. We help fix guys like you that find yourself in... situations."
The woman looked back at Ruth. "Guys?"
Ruth stammered for a brief moment. "Uh, yeah. Guys. You... You were a man before... THAT. Right?"
"You must mean Riley. Ugh, figures help would come for him. No, we disbanded because of this stupid ring. The changes come slower if we're apart and can't be judged easily."
Mercy looked the woman over. "So the Ring is the culprit? All that boob from a little piece of jewelry."
"Mercyyy!" Ruth gritted her teeth at her partner. "Dude, c'mon!" She turned back to the bed. "We're not here to judge whatever karma or bad actions let to all this. We just want to get this Riley turned back and get the Ring back to the Divine."
The women perked up at hearing what Ruth said. "You really know something about the Ring of Competition? The curse on it!? Look, look. I'll take you to Riley, but you have to cure me too!"
Ruth smiled her best artificial smile. "Sure, we'll throw fixing you in as a freebie if you lead us to him." The woman nodded vigorously, her chest quivering and hair flopping about with the motions. She stood up and wobbled, unsure on the heels after her repose. Ruth walked back to her partner. "We discussed bedside manner! This isn't vigilante justice. We're not here to make people feel lousy."
"C'mooon. They totally stole that ring and they're being punished for it. Granted, totally bonkers punishment, but if they're on a god's bad side, they earned it."
"We're on gods' bad sides!"
Mercy waggled her finger. "Totally different! WE didn't deserve it."
Rhonda finished collecting her pack and tottered off to the door. "Let's go, let's go! Riley set up a hideout back in that damned temple. We'll find him around there. Hurry!"
Ruth nudged Mercy and she spoke up. "Sorry about what I said. Um, shock of the situation and seeing you like that. All curvy and such. That's a nice dress?"
Rhonda spun around to face them. "No! Don't comment on how I look or-"
"The Competition Is Engaged."
The pair looked around the room. "Who said that?"
When they look back at the woman, she was slumped forward and trying to pat down the puffs that appeared on her outfit and now sat above her gloves. "Auuurgh!"
The trio returned to the scene of the rock-slide and searched around for the entrance. Soon Rhonda shout out, "Found it!" They shimmied their way down into the cave and saw the entranceway littered with supplies and tool. "Riley is definitely still here," she said, turning back to the darkened entry. She shouted into the darkness, "Riley! I found help!"
There was silence until a sultry voice echoed through the halls. "Stay away! Leave this cursed temple!"
The team listened and estimated where the voice was coming from. "No, Riley, it's me. Rhonda!" They advanced into the temple.
"Rhonda!? Is that why I morphed again last night."
Rhonda glared back at Mercy for her comments back at the hut. Mercy just waved her hand to dismiss then. "Just keep him talking so we can locate him..
As they trudged through the temple, Rhonda explained the situation and the arrival of Ruth and Mercy to help them. Using his voice, they finally pinpointed the thief and found him in an alcove. Rhonda looked excited to see him but quickly shied back, keeping her distance. Mercy and Ruth looked back and forth at the two nearly identical curvaceous rogues, both poorly dressed for their profession. The duo did a poor job not gawking at his comical proportions, but his face showed that he'd been through all this before and it was a big part of why he lived in an abandoned cave temple now. Riley explained that he came back to try to understand the tapestries and writings on the temple walls to see if they could reveal any clues on how to remove the Rings and their curse. Cautiously optimistic that the new strangers could help, Riley led them back down into the temple towards the altar room.
Several times in the exploration, Riley or Rhonda became wedged in the tight passageways or cracks they had to crawl though. Their exaggerated curves stuffing them in cramped spaces until the others pushed and pulled to squeeze the inflated bounce through. Riley rubbed his sore bottom after freeing it from a particularly tight crawlspace but motioned to the gilded entry. "We're here."
Mercy and Ruth crept in first, surveying the altar room and reflecting pool. Mercy moved in tight on her partner. "Definitely getting creepy vibes in here. I think we should be able to summon something if this really is an artifact of a Divine."
Ruth nodded and moved to the pedestal, looking around intently, pausing in thought, and then shouting. "Hey! Yo, Divine!"
Vibrating dark shadows started to coalesce above the reflecting pool, forming a vaguely humanoid stretched out misty shape you could really only fathom out of the corner of your eye. A voiced boomed out of the ether,"The Valkyrie's lapdogs! What are you dears doing in my temple?"
Mercy politely waved to the Divine being. "Hey. Hi there. These two idiot thieves stole something from you and now they've realized the error and daftness of their ways so they're super sorry. They're also super hexed so if you would so kindly take your artifacts back and clear th-"
"The Competition Is Engaged."
Riley groaned as his chest ballooned out further. The shadowy being twisted to face the two bandits. "The Ring of Competition! Oh yes, some of my early work."
Rhonda pushed forward. "Then you'll be wanting it back! Take it! Take them!"
Riley clapped his hands together, the best he could around his figure. "We're sorry! We're SO sorry!"
The shadowy figure retracted into itself, swirling in contemplation. "Nah."
The two teams recoiled and shouted in unison, "WHAT!?"
"Quite frankly, it's early work that's only been improved upon. I have like a dozen of them." One of the roiling limbs contracted and when it opened up again, several of the Rings were on display. "The Rings aren't worth much to me, but the... yes, the chaos it's causing you all is so much more delectable. I haven't been to this realm in ages and this is rather fun."
Riley and Rhonda stared with their jaws agape, unprepared for this outcome.
Mercy stepped forward. "Look, we all agree what they did was dumb and then to duplicate it, dumb again, and we all agree they should be punished-"
One of the identical voices spoke up from the behind her, "No we shouldn't," but a stern glare from Mercy silenced further commentary.
Ruth tapped her chin. "Surely there are more interesting ways to abuse these too. Realistically, there has to be some ultimate 'cuteness' threshold that these two will reach. And then what? No more changes and everybody gets used to it." The Divine paused in consideration and then continued being an undefinable swirling piece of the cosmos. "What if you could cause them constant chaos?"
"I'm listening... This is not a proposition I typically get from one of the Valkyrie's minions."
Ruth let the comment about being a minion slide. "I figure, it would be fun if you cure these two of the actual change, but then leave the illusion of the change for everybody else to see. That way, you enact chaos on everybody else but it would cause all kinds of trouble for these two. They look normal to themselves, but the rest of the world sees them like... that over there. The attention and embarrassment they'd face day to day would be chaotic indeed and they'd never be able to sneak in anywhere and steal something again."
The Divine puffed itself out as it digested the idea. "Yes. Yes!"
Rhonda raised a fist to the team. "What kind of mediators are you?! I thought you were helping us!"
Mercy shrugged. "We're desperate on our end too. And you're kind of dicks, so..."
The Rings clattered to the ground and the metallic pangs echoed through the chamber. The thieves gasped as their bodies started to deflate and suck back into themselves. Curves flattened out, hair retracted, and their accessories sparkled into nothingness. Riley ignored the ridiculous dress he still wore and patted his chest with relief.
Ruth turned to her partner and pointed at her arm. "Shall we?"
Mercy opened her palm and summoned a portal from her gauntlet. "Yeah, before they try to hug us, shank us, or loot us." The team gave a polite nod to the Divine and vanished back to their own realm.
When the thieves finished a teary-eyed hug, they looked around the room. The blonde and redhead were gone and the Divine had dissipated but they could still feel its presence in the chamber. They wordlessly agreed to flee from the temple and never return.
Riley and Rhonda made the trip back to town slowly. They reveled in being able to free themselves from painful footwear, their current lack of jiggling and wobbling, and less of a need to worry about future back pain. As they passed the gates into the village, a chorus of whistles greeted them. They slowed their entrance as several ogling townsfolk approached them and Riley received a gentle slap on the behind to a chorus of guffaws from the men around them. Rhonda shoved away a merchant that draped his arm around her and complimented her wiggle. The two thieves went back to back and tensed up at the sight of the love-struck crowd while somewhere out in the cosmos, a Divine being felt rather satisfied with itself.
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There Can B.E. Only One
A Mercynaries Story from SinComics.com
Stan groaned as he rubbed his temples. Another long night at the office filing insurance claims and paperwork. He'd like to tell himself that he's at least doing important work, but Stan didn't like to lie. He looked around the office, devoid of any other human life and lit only by his small desk lamp that he had to bring in from home, and thought of the Stan that once had dreams and aspirations. The Stan that was destined for greater things than moving paperwork from green folders to purple folders and being yelled at by customers that didn't read their coverage guidelines. But there was no sense dwelling on such matters, so Stan gathered his messenger bag, switched off his lamp, and proceeded to trip over the chair he forgot to push in.
The one benefit of working late nights was that the roads were clear of traffic by the time Stan drove home. He counted those small blessings as he navigated the empty city streets, both ruing the dull city for closing down once the 9-to-5ers ended their shifts, but thankful that it gave him a nice quiet ride to relax during as he made his way home. A quick burst of light caught the corner of Stan's eye as he turned a corner. It was supposed to be a pleasant weekend and the weather report hadn't mentioned any lightning. Stan slowed down and looked up at a sky far too clear for a storm. He stuck his head out the window but couldn't see anything more or feel any rain. Off in the distance, Stan could hear metal striking metal with an occasional louder clang. Perhaps it was for petty reasons, but Stan smiled at the thought that some construction workers must still be on the job and that they were working later than he had. A few moments passed with no other signs of bad weather, so Stan pulled his head back into the car and looked into the rear-view mirror. The road was still empty, but the bags under his eyes were getting worse. Maybe on Monday he could talk with his manager about taking a few vacation days, he'd earned that! Still gazing into the mirror, Stan pressed down on the gas pedal just as a loud thud slammed down in front of him and bits of gravel and road debris sprinkled his windshield. The sudden shock surprised Stan and caused him to press down on the gas more, causing the car to lurch forward over a bump with an unsettling crunch.
Stan panicked.
“Oh God! Oh God, oh God. I hit something!”
Stan gingerly opened the car door and stepped out. “H-hello?” The headlights glistened off something by the front of the car. Stan crept forward to find a sword in the middle of the road and he could see another metal object off near the sidewalk. It was an axe with a long handle that Stan had seen before in a movie, but the name escaped him now. Maybe it was a halberd? Or a poleaxe? What was the difference? One might have been pointier and- Now was NOT the time to be thinking about this! A wet puddle steadily crept from under the car and towards the sewer grate. Stan steeled his nerves and slowly bent down to peek.
“OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod!” Stan clutched at his chest and breathed heavily. “I killed somebody! Oh no, no, no.” His shaking knees gave way and Stan dropped to the pavement. This helped Stan steady himself, but the closer vantage point allowed him to see that there were actually two bodies under the car. Stan tried to both gasp and scream at the same time, but all that came out was a pitiful squeal.
“Harrumph!” A voice sighed from behind the car.
Stan spun around to see a figure, but the headlights prevented him from getting a good look at the witness. He flopped onto his back and crawled away towards the sidewalk. “I- I- I-...” Stan stammered with a thousand rambling sentences but still at a loss for words for the grisly scene in front of him. “I don't know what happened! I-”
“Hit them with a car,” the stranger matter-of-factly stated. It moved its arm to its side and Stan could hear the sound of metal sliding and a soft click.
“Who are y-” Before Stan could finish, he felt the sting of a shock in his side. He spun to face the car and saw trails of white lightning snaking and crackling toward him. Before he had a chance to move, a bolt struck out and hit him square in the chest, lifting him off the ground and knocking the wind out of him. Stan couldn't move or speak as the lightning poured through his heart. His skin felt alive. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, just something Stan had never felt before and wouldn't have been able to explain. As his body filled with the strange lightning, Stan felt full and like something inside him was twisting and churning. Then, the feeling changed. The power inside him was trying to push its way out, testing him, pushing in some places and pulling in others, all while Stan's head swarmed with unknowable thoughts and laws. At the mercy of something so magnificent, so powerful, all Stan could manage was a weak grunt. The last thing Stan heard before collapsing in a heap was a soft curse word from the stranger.
Stan woke slowly. He may have been asleep for a few hours or for weeks, he had no bearing on time or place. He was unable to move his body but his vision came back to him first as a blur, but finally settling on a clear picture of a beige ceiling and plain beige walls. The air was stagnant and smelled of a too strong but cheap perfume or cleaning supplies. It was the universal smell of an affordably priced hotel room. That meant Stan had at least two of his senses working and he probably wasn't dead, so he was off to a good start. He closed his eyes again and breathed deeply to calm himself. He could hear rustling and shuffling. There was somebody else in the room! Stan tried to speak up, but all that dribbled out of his mouth was a gurgling moan.
“Oh, you're finally awake,” his rescuer, or kidnapper, calmly said.
Stan struggled to sit up and speak, questions raced through his mind, but his body was on pins and needles and tingled all over. The person saw his struggle and sat next to him and leaned over.
“Stay calm, you've been through something big. Much bigger than you. You'll adjust soon.”
She was a woman. A cute one! She had straight, shoulder length hair that was so light. It was either a light cyan or a silver, but Stan couldn't tell if his eyes were playing tricks on him. She wore a simple gray sweater and as she leaned in, Stan could see that she was rather shapely and- No, Stan! Focus. There are far greater matters at hand than those.
Noticing the conflict in Stan's eyes, the woman pulled out a small bottle from a bag next to the bed. “If you're still in pain, drink this.” She poured the bottle down Stan's throat and he immediately felt a chill move through him. Before he could react, Stan fell asleep again.
The next morning, Stan woke with a start. He was still in the hotel room, but things were clearer. His body felt heavy, but he could move his hand and arms again. Joyed with the reveal that he wasn't paralyzed, Stan ran his fingers over the bedspread. It was soft and sent a tingle up his arm. Patting up the bed, Stan touched the light cotton of his shirt and then his soft but firm stomach. Stan stopped. While he wasn't overweight, Stan spent his life behind a desk at a computer and wasn't fond of the gym, despite the company's generous fitness reimbursement. He hadn't had a firm stomach since high school. Stan patted his side again and could feel the sensation in his fingers and stomach, so he was sure that was him. He sat upright and immediately felt his body shift and weight pull him forward. Stan was ready to panic again. The hotel bed was hard but Stan felt a cushiony softness in his seat and he looked forward at two long, smooth legs with dainty feet at the ends. Stan assured himself that it was completely appropriate to panic more. He patted his hands higher and quickly came to feel a full, firm but soft swell at his chest. As Stan struggled to get a grasp on the situation, the woman from before walked out of the side room. She saw Stan struggling on the bed and immediately raised her palms towards him.
“I need you to stay calm,” she said softly but with authority.
“I- I- Wh-”, Stan said harshly and with bewilderment, his hands still clutching the foreign objects on his chest.
“Sir, stay calm. What's your name?”
“I- I- S-Stan. I'm Stan,” he forced out, but the words sounded foreign and wrong.
“Okay, Stan, I'm going to explain everything, but I need you to relax. Please sit down, Stan.” He complied, awkwardly and slowly, so the woman put a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back to the bed. “There was an incident you were involved with. Two warriors in the city-”.
“The accident! Oh God, I h-hit somebody. We have to get help and-”
“Stan, be calm. I took care of it. I cleaned up the site, removed the bodies, and destroyed the evidence.”
“Evidence? Bodies!?”
“You're going to be calm, remember. I took care of it. It wasn't entirely your fault. They never should have taken the fight to the city and gotten you involved.”
Stan looked around the room in a panic, now even more desperate to understand the situation. His gaze hit upon the mirror above the dresser and the confused woman gaping back at him. Stan clumsily latched a hand to his face and watched the woman in the mirror copy him perfectly. Her face was undeniably similar to his, but softer and with more youthful vigor, and she shared the same haircut Stan had been getting since college, but the rest of her was not right. The person in the mirror should not have such graceful fingers and toned arms. Her dress definitely shouldn't hang daintily at her thighs and tight on her chest and hips!
Stan shook his head and pawed at the outfit. What he before thought was a long shirt was actually a simple white dress. He gaped at it and then over to the woman, then back to the dress.
She nonchalantly nodded towards him. “Well I couldn't leave you in your old clothes. You fell into a pile of blood and that would look a bit suspicious.”
“What's going on!? Who is SHE? Where am I? How are-”
The woman put her palms up towards him again, this time with more force, then motioned to the bed. “I will explain. Sit! Stop with the questions and let me speak.” Stan did as he was told. “You have been accidentally pulled into an ancient contest between Amazonian warriors.” Stan raised a hand to interject but a stern look from the woman kept him quiet. “It is a no-holds-barred battle to the death between the tribe's top warriors to decide who rules our lands. Only the strongest warrior is suited to be our queen. Once an Amazon has chosen to enter the contest, she chooses her weapon and must defeat the other warriors, absorbing more power with each enemy slain. One of those warriors escaped to your city to try to hide, but she was tracked down and combat commenced. Through your involvement, you have taken the Amazonian power and this has caused the change you're experiencing now.”
“You can't possibly expect me to believe that. This is ins-”.
A steely glance from the woman cowered Stan and he shrunk back. “As fantastical as this sounds, look no further than your own body for proof. The night of your accident, you struck two warriors when they fell to the ground in their battle and you have taken their power and are now part of our contest.”
“Well I don't want it! Take it back. Just, just take this power and make me normal again!” Stan pounded his fist to his chest to emphasize his words, but winced at the new sensation of pain in his breasts.
“I'm sorry, Stan, but it doesn't work that way. The power is transferred upon the death of the warrior. Your best hope is for me to keep you safe until I find a way to remove you from the contest.”
“Are you saying I'm stuck like this!?”
“For now, yes. But if you work with me, I will train you to avoid the other warriors. The fact that you are an outsider may anger the others. In all our time, our queen has never been a non-Amazonian.”
Stan clutched his head and tried to process what was happening. One routine trip home from work later and he had lost his body and was on the run from a tribe of characters he previously thought were fictional and they wanted him dead. “So who are you?”
The woman nodded and brushed her cyan hair back gracefully. “I am Mina. I am a referee among the Amazonians to ensure the contest is held with honor.”
“Referee?” Stan grumbled under his breath, “You suck at your job.” Mina pretended to not hear that and walked over to the dresser.
“We will spend one more night here for you to recover and then you will start your training.”
“No, no. I have to get back home. I have to call in at work. I have bills to pay. Newspapers must be piling up at my apartment. How long have I been out? I need to go home!”
“No!” Mina planted her feet and blocked the door. “You must cut ties with your old life. You cannot go back to it! If one of the warriors were to find out who you are or they saw your vehicle and got your information before I disposed of it, she would be surveilling your home, waiting to ambush you. It's not safe to go back.”
She had a valid point and Stan wasn't in the mood to go into the particulars of how tech-savvy a group of Amazonian warriors were but figured that if they knew enough to come to city and hide among average people, they could probably figure out a phone directory and find his address.
Mina returned to packing the clothes from the dresser. “The city will provide us some protection and cover, but we will move regularly. Other warriors will come to hunt you.”
Curling into the fetal position, Stan stuck to the bed. “Why am I like this?”
“You have Amazonian blood and power now. The warriors absorb the power from their defeated rivals to grow stronger and physically change to signify their standing. Once the contest is over, the woman to be queen strikes an imposing and beautiful figure and all that look upon her know her power.” Stan screamed internally. “But this power will be an asset. You will be faster and stronger than a normal human. You will heal quicker and learn to harness your power with great skill.”
“My power? You mentioned the Amazons choosing a weapon too.”
“Yes, they are related. Each warriors chooses a weapon to use in the contest and her skill with it grows with each victory.”
“So I killed those warriors with my car. Accidentally! Does that mean I'll get better... at driving?”
Mina shook her head and faced Stan again. “No, your vehicle was simply the tool you used. You claimed your victories through shear dumb luck. But that luck will be a powerful ally. You will need all the luck you can get to stay safe. For now, get some rest and we will start your training in the morning.”
Stan's training was difficult, but Mina's words were true and he learned quickly. They started with simple physical exercises in the hotel rooms to acclimate Stan to his new body. He grew used to the weight and pull on his chest (although he wasn't happy about it), the way his hips moved now, and the difference in his stride thanks to his longer legs. They soon graduated to more rigorous exercise and sparring in the fitness rooms of the nicer hotels. Mina never held back so Stan was thankful for his advanced regeneration and healing. He was also greatly thankful for sports bras and anything that reduced the bounce in his chest now ranked among mankind's greatest inventions. Training his “powers” took the most physical and mental toll. Mina was determined to find the true extent of how much his luck powers could do and frequently took to throwing objects at Stan to see how many would miss. Much to Stan's chagrin, the power didn't kick in for the lottery tickets he occasionally sampled. When Stan was able to run across a busy road in rush hour traffic, they both agreed that showed an acceptable mastery of his physical form and a good degree of luck.
While the physical training was progressing well, Stan struggled with the mental side of things. Being a man trapped in the body of an Amazonian warrior was not a concept that Stan's life had previously led him to ever ponder or prepare for. Taking care of his outerwear was simple enough since his figure was fairly close to Mina's. However, her curves were a little more pronounced, leaving Stan to purchase his own underwear. He had bought gifts for girlfriends in the past, but he always had the advantage of being able to sneak a peek at her existing clothes to get the sizing rather than trying to figure it out himself. He stuck to department stores where he could find the most cover among people and be bothered the least, but that had the drawback of not having somebody help to fit him. Rather than return the purchases, Mina told him to save them for later. The wording of that note displeased Stan. Everywhere he went, he felt that all eyes were on him and that the world knew he was wrong and an “other”. Stan was almost pleased for the change the day Mina came bursting into their hotel room.
“They're here!” She panted.
“Room service?”
“No! Other warriors! I felt one's presence in the city today. They must be looking for you.”
Stan panicked and ran to his suitcase.
“No, no.” Mina stood resolutely. They're too close and they know you're here now. Running will only offer a minor delay. You have to take the fight to her. It's the only way to get peace.”
Stan trusted in Mina's advice, nodded silently, and then went to the bathroom to be sick.
The park was empty and quiet at night and the trees provided cover, so that's where Mina brought Stan for the fight. They arrived earlier than the opponent and hid in the trees to scope Stan's new mortal enemy. The waiting was nerve wracking and intense, and Stan silently hoped it would be the worst part of the fight, even though he knew much better than that. Some time had passed but the pair eventually noticed a figure cautiously enter the park. Stan's jaw dropped. The woman had a cartoonishly hourglass figure. Her enormous breasts swayed with each step and her curves seemed to rebel against the very clothes she tried to confine them in. She had light brown skin but red hair that seemed to glisten in the moonlight. Once Stan could pull his eyes away from her figure, he saw that she had a bow in one hand and a quiver of arrows slung to her back. The strap nestled between her mountainous- Focus, Stan!
Mina whispered to Stan, “I know she looks daunting and she is most certainly a powerful opponent, but her strength will be her weakness.”
Stan swallowed hard and stammered. “I-I'm really having second thoughts on this. Let's just-”
“Outsider!” The warrior bellowed to the park itself. “I know you're here, so stop hiding! Why have you defiled the contest?”
Stan jumped down from his hiding place in the trees and meekly addressed the woman. “Now, I know this is intense, but if you'll listen and let explain, I think we'll all agree that-” An arrow whizzed by Stan's head and embedded itself in the tree. Stan looked up at Mina in a panic.
“Go, Stan. Defeat her and take her power!”
“I don't want to look like that! I can barely handle this body!”
“Her power comes from multiple victories, you won't absorb all that from just one battle.”
Stan looked back at the warrior, now confidently striding towards him. Stan called upon all of Mina's training to prepare and assess the situation, threw all of that away, and ran as fast as he could. After a few moments, he looked back over his shoulder and saw the wisdom in Mina's earlier words. While the warrior's curves signified her strength, they also slowed her down. She'd covered half the distance Stan had and had to use one of her arms to steady her bouncing chest. This gave Stan a glimmer of hope, but while he could run all night, he was sure this woman would follow and track him down. He ducked behind a tree to think of a plan wiser than cowardice. With a quick peek, he saw the Amazon raise her bow and notch an arrow. Again her chest befuddled her as she had to bend her arm around her curves to aim the bow straight. Stan saw that as an opening. If she was a ranged fighter and put her power into her bow, maybe he could win the fight if he got close enough. Stan bolted to the next tree and could feel the arrows zip past him. He credited his skill and training rather than thanking his luck for the near misses and made his way closer one tree at a time.
Once he was close enough, Stan ran right at her as fast as he could. She pirouetted around him and landed a hard punch between his shoulder. Stan stumbled and rolled on the ground. This wasn't going the way he thought it would.
“I will right the contest and bring honor back to our tribe. Goodbye, Outsider.” The woman nocked another arrow and Stan jumped up.
“Please, please. I don't-” He felt a sharp sting in his side as the arrow cut through him, causing Stan to reel back and slam into a tree with several cracks resounding through the quiet park. Stan clutched at his side and steadied himself on the dead, rotting tree, a metaphor he thankfully didn't have time to ponder. He rushed forward, but a swift kick from the warrior knocked him back into the tree with a resounding “snap”. Stan was perplexed for a moment. Aside from the pain in his side, it didn't FEEL like any bones were broken, so the snap... Before he could investigate, a heavy rustling came from above, followed by a large branch collapsing towards the ground but taking a detour in its journey to smash into the side of the Amazon's temple and drop her to the ground. Stan collapsed to his knees and screamed internally again.
“Amazing!” Mina sounded almost joyful. “What are the odds that she would keep missing and then when she does strike, it knocks you into a dead tree just waiting to lose a limb. Your powers are exceptional, Stan.” Stan responded with a whimper and groaned while clutching his side.
Small sparks started to fizzle from under the tree limb and arc around the warrior's dead body. The lightning again forced its way into Stan, but now his Amazonian power and blood could contain it. It lifted him off his feet and coursed through his heart once more. As it subsided, Stan dropped to his knees. He steadied himself and touched his side only to find that the only evidence of his injury was a tear in his shirt.
Mina spoke while moving the branch and mentally taking note of all the arrows in the park now. “Stan, return to the hotel quickly. We will discuss this later, but I need to clean up here. Go!” Stan silently agreed and hurried off towards the park's exit.
Back at the hotel, Stan stood in front of the mirror and removed the torn shirt. He ran his fingers over where the cut used to be but it was now clean and spotless. Looking into the mirror, Stan took an inventory of himself. His hair was still a dark brown, but now it looked shaggier, like he hadn't had it cut in a few months. Were his breasts bigger? They still fit well in his bra, but were they fuller? He turned to the side and noted that his bottom definitely stuck out more. And looked rounder. Stan shook the thoughts from his mind and a leaf fluttered down to the table. A shower would make everything better. That would wash off the grime of battle and help clear his thoughts. Stan threw his dirty clothes to the foot of the bed and walked into the cramped hotel bathroom.
The shower helped calm him and by the time Stan was done, Mina had returned to the room. She grinned and clapped her hands once. “You did well! An unconventional victory, but still a victory!”
Stan muttered some thanks as he slipped into his pajamas.
“We'll move again tomorrow, but tonight you can revel in your first intentional win.”
“When will it end? I can't do THAT every night.”
“Tonight will buy us some time, but now that your presence is well-known, other Amazons will come for you.
True to Mina's words, it wasn't more than a week later when the next opponent found Stan walking home from the store one night. She seemed younger and less sure than his first opponent and Stan could tell by her figure that she was not as experienced. The green-haired Amazon was cautious and gave Stan a wide berth, despite wielding two daggers as her weapons. Stan wasn't sure if this meant she was testing him or had some misplaced fear of his combat skills. He again tried to plead for sanity and an end to the fighting, but the woman didn't appear to speak or understand his language. When he reached out to offer his hand in peace, the warrior jumped back, slipping on a piece of loose soil and falling backwards down the rocky hill. One peak over the edge was enough to confirm Stan's suspicions and he counted no fewer than six wounds to her head and a number of bloody rocks on the way down. A call to the hotel room later and Mina was on the scene. The warrior's lightning had already done its thing and Stan was back on his feet when she arrived. With a clap on the back and hearty praise, she sent him back to the hotel with the groceries. Stan was sure the eggs would have broken when he dropped the bag. As he made his way back to the room, there was no denying that his body had changed more after the fight. His bra was tight and the straps dug into his shoulders. He could feel the tickle of his hair against his neck and the bizarre sensation of a sway and bounce in his hips as he walked. Back in the room, Stan dug through his suitcase for the clothes Mina told him not to return and found some new underwear. The buttons on his dress shirt now bulged out, so there was no sense dragging them from hotel to hotel, and while his other shirts were now tight, Stan felt like that gave him more support up top and he would live with it for now.
The battles were coming so regularly that it no longer made sense to stay on the run and change hotels after each fight. That very weekend, Stan was assaulted by a team of warriors. The duo wielding swords and far outmatched Stan in fighting prowess. His body was laced with cuts as he was knocked around, up until the pair were ready to land killing strikes when Stan collapsed, falling under their blades and the two warriors decapitated each other. Stan tried to run from the outcome but was struck by twin bolts of lightning from the warriors and pulled back to their bodies. The twin surges of power made the changes immediately perceptible and Stan could feel his body growing and changing. The seat of his pants split and the neckline of his shirt tore to relieve the pressure from his expanding curves. Long, darker hair that gave off a hint of purple in the sunlight swayed in front of his face and down to the small of this back. Stan rushed back to the hotel, avoiding every person he could, and sheepishly asked Mina to go out to get new clothing for him. To his dismay, she returned with several dresses. He tried to protest, but Mina successfully argued that the skirts would give him more room and wouldn't split like pants. While that was true, Stan still tried to cover up as much as he could with sweaters on top of the dresses.
Due to a combination of the constant fights and his now extreme looks, Stan dreaded ever leaving the hotel. He placed his entire trust and faith in Mina running errands for him and only ever left when she had gone to consult her ancient tomes and he was alone to fend for himself. The stares and comments from strangers taxed him, but Stan was confident in the strength of his powers and questioned whether he could even lose a fight after a particularly harrowing fight against an Amazon wielding a flintlock pistol. After gaining an upper-hand in the battle, the warrior pressed her weapon to Stan's head and pulled the trigger, only to have the gun backfire, ignite her shirt, and instantly consume the Amazon in flames and destroy any evidence a battle took place. No, Stan's true battles were against his cursed body. He pleaded with Mina to cure him, but she apologized and explained that the rules of the contest were arcane and difficult to parse. There had never been an outsider like Stan before and the Amazon's strict code of honor decreed that once you enlist in the contest, you see it to the end. Stan would have curled up into a ball on the bed again, but the feeling of his breasts pressing against his legs unnerved him now.
On another venture for clothes that fit, Stan was dejected. He'd tried all the normal department stores but the sizes they carried didn't go up to his new levels of bustiness. The largest bras he could find stopped fitting comfortably two fights ago, so he was going to have to start going to specialty stores. That felt like a special kind of humiliation to Stan and on level different from the fact that he was actually wearing a bra. He could at least buy them like a regular woman before. Making his way back from the shops, Stan could feel the presence of two people following him. He wasn't dressed to run, much less fight, so he walked as swiftly as he could and ducked down the alley and through a series of corners. He heard the footsteps of the people running after him, but they eventually stopped in the alley. Stan stole a peek at them from his hiding spot. One was a tan woman with long bright blonde hair. Judging from her figure, she had been the victor in several fights. Her partner was a more peppy, and hippy, redhead with twin pigtails flowing out from her head. They appeared to be bickering and the redhead frequently gestured to the strange white and green glove she wore. The pair exuded the strength of the Amazonian warriors, but something about them seemed different. Stan cursed himself, swallowed, and shouted from his hiding place. “I don't want any trouble.”
The duo spun around, scanning the alley for where the voice came from. The redhead threw her hands in the air. “It's cool, it's cool. We don't want to fight!”
“Who are you? Identify yourself!”
The two women turned and addressed the spot Stan was hiding behind. The red-haired one gave a small wave and smiled. “My name is Mercy and my partner here is Ruth. We're here to help.”
Stan poked his head out from the cover, overjoyed at the prospect of help but still cautious.
“We're kind of like bounty hunters for people in your situation,” the blonde explained. “We just want to fix you up and be on our way. It's kind of a thing, but it's what we're here for.”
Stan's heart raced. “How can I trust you? Maybe this is just a trick and you're here to kill me!”
Mercy laughed. “Oh, if we wanted you killed, you'd already be dead, buster.” For some reason, she menacingly pointed her gauntlet at Stan.
“Mercy! Oh my god, shut up. How does that help?!”
Ruth slugged Mercy in the shoulder and the two started to create a combination of bickering and bantering back and forth. If they were warriors, they were certainly different from the previous Amazons. Stan sat back and let them argue each other tired before approaching them. The group compared their notes and briefings on the contest for leadership and what Stan had been through. The duo made terrible attempts at not staring at Stan's chest, but he could hardly blame them and would have done the same in their positions. Not that they weren't both cute in their own ways, but Stan had had enough of sex appeal to last him awhile.
After the explanations were over, the team set on fixing Stan.
Ruth nodded sagely, “So all we have to do is transfer your power off without you dying. Seems easy enough.”
Stan sighed. “No, Mina said we can't. Once the contest starts, it won't end until I die or win. She's been trying all this time to find a way out for me but hasn't been able to.”
Mercy plumbed her mind for that name. “Mina? Who is that?”
“She's been helping me in this whole situation. She's a kind of referee for this contest.”
The women looked confused again and Ruth leaned in. “Our briefing and your own story says that this contest is a lawless free-for-all. Why would there be referees?”
Stan opened his mouth to respond, but a reason didn't come.
“Did any of the other Amazons have partners?”
Stan thought back again, but shook his head. “N-no. But you can't possibly be blaming Mina! She's been helping me this whole time.”
The redhead motioned to her chest “Yeah, I can see you have heaping mounds of help you're carried around.” She mentally high-fived herself for the comment but felt guilty when Stan glared back.
The blonde rolled her eyes in a way that signified she'd heard such “wit” frequently. “Maybe she's not helping you. Maybe she's using you.”
Stan shrunk back in the seat and thought over the past weeks' events. “We need to talk to her.”
The duo followed Stan back to the hotel.
That night, Mina returned to the room in high spirits. “I did some more searching, but couldn't-”. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the two new women talking to Stan. Mina immediately pivoted and dove to the bed, grabbing for the sword she had hidden behind it.
The redhead smirked and pointed to her partner, who was leaning on the weapon. “We thought about that.”
Mina backed up to the wall. “Who are you two!?”
Stan stepped forward and tried to look serious, despite the exaggerated wobble in his chest. “We need to talk. I want some answers, Mina.”
These two new women were a threat that Mina didn't care for. They exuded some kind of strange aura that she couldn't place. She could take down one, maybe do damage to the second, but Stan appeared to be on their side and he could stop her. They were positioned to block the windows and the only door out, so Mina composed herself. “I was hoping for some more time.”
Her change in tone hit Stan like a punch to the gut. “So you were using me...”
She nodded. “I was mad at first when you scored those initial kills the night we met, but then I realized what an opportunity it was. Your dumb luck proved to be an amazing power and one I could harness to reduce my competition. You would thin out the ranks for me and you trusted me so much that I could easily have finished you off in your sleep once we were the last warriors left. Best of all, you were the one absorbing all the changes meaning I could be queen after only a few kills and not have to rule with such a ridiculous figure!”
As much as Stan hated that ridiculous figure and how angry he was about being used, that last comment alone was too much. It was her fault he carried around that weight! Stan jumped forward, but Mina dodged to the bed. The blonde grabbed forward but Mina countered with a knee to her jaw and brought the woman down. This greatly angered the redhead, who responded by hurling the hotel room chair. Mina barely had time to twist and take the blow on her shoulder and arm, but the force of the hit knocked her to the ground. She was about to roll back to her knees when Stan dropped down on her and knocked the wind from her.
“Gack!” Mina crackled. “You weigh a ton!” Perhaps, not the best thing to say, as Stan rocked back and put the full weight of his prodigious behind on her chest. Mina gasped for air, until the redhead walked over and hit her with a glowing blast from her gauntlet.
Mercy sighed. “Okay, Stan, you can get up now.”
Stan did as he was told. “Did you shoot her? Is she dead?”
“Hell no! I don't want to take a chance, kill her, and wind up giant – Ah! Hey, Ruth, are you okay?”
A groan came from the side of the room. “Ahm okah. Ah bit mah tung.”
Stan looked around the room, lamented the no doubt lost deposit on the room, and turned to the redhead. “What do we do now?”
Mercy shrugged. “Talk to the old queen, I guess?” Before Stan could reply, a glowing green doorway appeared from the woman's gauntlet and the pair were dragging Mina into it.
Once the green glow faded from his eyes, Stan stared in awe at the world around him. They were in beautiful temple surrounded by a dense jungle. Stan was slightly embarrassed that despite this whole ordeal, he had never bothered to actually do any research on the Amazon. Pillars of an opalescent material made up the walls of the temple with statues of beautiful women adorned with glittering jewelry formed a pathway to a throne. Stan spun around as he heard the clacking of heels on the marbled floor.
“Who dares enter my-”. The woman stopped upon spying Stan and struck the ground with the butt of her lance. She looked him up and down with a faint sense of recognition but was unable to place the specific face or strange outfit. Stan gawked back at her. She had a figure like his, but where Stan attempted to hide his curves with ill-fitting clothing, she wore them proudly in regal dress. Locks of blue hair gracefully flowed to the floor. “Who are you? Are you one of my Amazons?” Stan was too transfixed to answer.
“Hey there!” Mercy piped up.
The queen swung her head over to the two and the unconscious warrior they were dragging with them. “Mina! What have you done?!”
Ruth threw her hands up, dropping Mina to the floor with a thud in the process. “We come in peace. Authorized emissaries of the Divine!”
The queen looked the two up and down and seemed to recognize the gauntlet Mercy wore. She motioned back towards the throne and asked for an explanation.
Stan's story poured out from his mouth, but the queen simply nodded as he rambled. Mercy and Ruth added comments and details when the story came around to involving them. Once all was said, the queen rose from her throne and motioned to the back of the hall. The newcomers turned to see that the hall had filled with guards during their tale, but they sheathed their weapons at the queen's request.
The queen strode over to Stan and put a hand on his head. “Quite an ordeal.” The queen motioned to her guards once more and two stepped forward to carry off Mina. “She will be placed in custody for her actions. While she may not be responsible for initially bringing you into this, she took no actions to remove you from the contest or report this to us. Involving outsiders is strictly forbidden.”
Stan stumbled closer to the queen. “Please, please, please fix me! I can't handle these,” Stan pleaded as he did his best to cup his breasts. “I don't want to be a queen, just make me normal!”
The queen laughed heartily. “You, a queen? Dear, you may have bested some warriors, but if you ever thought you could take me on...” She hit the ground with the butt of her lance again and proudly pushed forward her chest. Stan felt vaguely offended but felt it wasn't best to speak up.
“Excuse me, your highness?” Ruth stepped forward. “If you could just fix him without killing him, that would be a big help for all of us.”
“If that is what you so desire. Guards, please bring an alchemist to us.” Two guards broke off from the pack and rushed out of the temple.
The queen returned to her throne and the group awkwardly waited.
“Sooo...” Mercy offered, gazing at the statues. “Queen of a tribe of busty hot ladies. That's got to be pretty awesome, right?”
The queen glared back. “Maybe you should remain quiet.” Mercy gave a meek thumbs-up and complied with the royal decree.
The guards soon returned with a woman dressed in flowing red robes. She held in her hands a small empty vial capped with a radiant clear crystal. “For you, liege.”
The queen bowed slightly. “Thank you, my alchemist.” She turned towards Stan and removed the crystal. “Breathe deeply.” The queen pressed the crystal to Stan's heart and it glowed with a purple light. Energy poured from Stan into the crystal as it glowed more vibrantly. Stan jerked and then relaxed. He was unable to move, but he felt the electricity leave his body and the sense of pressure and fullness fade with it. With each breath, his body contracted and he felt more at ease. The power flowed out, while Stan felt his self return to him and the great weights lift from his chest. As the crystal dimmed, the queen returned the cap to the vial and it filled with the glowing purple electricity. Stan felt invigorated. He ran his fingers through his short hair and patted down flat chest. He'd miss the toned arms and abs, but that was a small loss for gaining other parts that Stan was more fond of.
Mercy whistled off in the background. “I need to get me one of those stones.”
Ruth nodded in a agreement but figured that they better not push their luck and bother the queen more. “Enough adventure for today. Let's get you home.”
Stan joyfully ran over to them, clutching his now loose clothing. The duo shrugged off his thankful hugs, bowed to the queen, and opened another green gateway home.
Stan materialized back in the hotel room alone. He looked around for the two women, but figured they left for their own worlds and he sighed in relief. Stan pulled up his suitcase and gleefully started throwing out the ridiculously oversized bras that dominated his luggage and pulled out the least feminine shorts and shirt he had with him. Mina was the one that had reserved the room, so he figured he could sneak out in the morning without being questioned or forced to pay damages. He'd go home and then- Stan paused. How would he get home? He wasn't entirely sure what happened to the car that had gotten him into this whole mess. Stan shrunk back more. He hadn't been to work for weeks and now that his career prospects no longer included “Amazonian Queen” he desperately hoped he hadn't been fired. He probably had been. Stan slumped to the ground and sighed. As he rolled over, he noticed something under the hotel dresser. Somebody had dropped a five dollar bill under there. His lucky day!
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Read more Mercyanries comics and stories at: http://www.sincomics.com/ddg.php
Travel Abroad
A Mercynaries Story from SinComics.com
Trevor stopped on the snowy trail and breathed in deeply. He felt the sting of the cold air in his nostrils, but he reveled in it. This trip was exactly what he needed and he'd been going over this trip in his mind for years. Granted, his dream trip didn't start with a delayed flight, an unexpected transfer, and not all of his luggage making that transfer with him. So a week's worth of clothing disappeared into the baggage claim ether, he still had his money with him and he was able to use that to rent the hiking gear as planned and enough food and basic supplies to last the week. A couple of days to sit around in the same clothes and grow your beard out was rustic. Campers did all the time. It was manly.
He was exhausted by the time he reached the rental cabin. The hike took most of the day and he underestimated how much the supplies weighed, but now the cabin was in sight and it looked gorgeous. Trevor's mind gleefully mulled over dropping the pack, lighting a fire, and digging into some grub. There was nothing like a vigorous workout to make canned goods seem appealing. He could practically smell the roaring fire and the- Trevor's eyes shot open and he sniffed the air. He COULD smell the fire. And he could see faint puffs of smoke coming from the cabin's chimney. All that planning and money for the trip, the hike out here, and renting the cabin and somebody else was there before him!? Stomping through the snow and sinking deeper into it with each huffy step, Trevor dug out the keys from his pack and went to kick the door open, only to find it swung out and not in. His toes bent against the sturdy door and he fell back into the wet mound of snow. His righteous anger given way into embarrassment, Trevor meekly pulled the door open and trudged inside. A woman looked at him with wide eyes and said something he couldn't understand. He gawked a little and turned over the language in his head. He couldn't place it. It sounded vaguely European but nothing he'd come across before. She was cute too. She wore a white tank top under her unzipped parka and tight slacks that showed off her athletic physique, with a sporty brunette ponytail swaying as she stared at him. Trevor stammered, realized he probably seemed pretty creepy, and forced out a simple, “Hi?”.
The woman titled her head quizzically and then shouted, “Ilya!”.
Trevor grimaced and motioned wildly with his hands. “I don't think I can- What is- The cabin was supposed to-”.
“Ja?”, a voice rang out from a back room. Trevor startled as another woman stepped into the living room. She was just as cute as her companion. A light purple sweater clung to her curves and contrasted her flowing blonde hair. She wore white slacks tucked into fur-lined boots with a slight heel more suited for a ski lodge than hiking. The second mystery woman looked at him and said some more words in the foreign language.
Trevor shook his head and got back to stammering. “I rented this cabin. It was supposed to be empty! I didn't know you would be-”
The blonde held up her hands. “You talk... very fastly.” She spoke cautiously and in a measured tone.
“English!” Trevor clapped back. “Oh, thank God you speak English! I was worried this would-”
“Talking fastly. My English, slow. Not good.”
“Sorry!” Trevor held out his hand. “I'm Trevor. And your English is just fine!”.
She shook his hand vigorously and motioned to herself. “I am Ilya. My friend, Lara.” The brunette nodded in Trevor's direction. “She has no English.”
Trevor dutifully smiled and nodded back. “Pleasure to meet you two.” He put his pack down and started to rummage through it for the envelope with his travel plans. “They said the cabin would be mine. I rented it and I was going to be here alone.”
Ilya shook her head. “We hired the cabin too. Empty for vacation.”
Trevor looked around, dejected. They outnumbered him, so he wouldn't be able to force them out. They looked polite enough to probably not be axe murderers. And they were cute...
“Have not the sadness, Mister Trevor. We all spend a night. Call landlord from emergency line in morning and sort out mess, ja?”
Trevor smiled and unzipped his jacket. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan. I'd really love to rest before yelling at a travel agent. It was a long hike and I'd-”
Ilya gasped and reached out. “We are rudes! Take off jacket! Sit by fire!”
He barely had time to kick off his boots before she pulled him forward to the cozy living area. Lara picked up his pack and motioned that she was putting it one of the back rooms. Despite the circumstances and language barrier, Trevor thought they hit it off well. Ilya was peppy, kind, and eager to practice her English and Trevor quickly perfected the art of smiling and nodding when the women spoke to each other in their native tongue. The pair had already started cooking for dinner and were quick to display their hospitality and have Trevor join in the meal.
Lara returned from the kitchen with a bubbling pot and an extra bowl for the table. Trevor thanked them profusely as he sat down at the table. A hot, home cooked meal was exactly what he wanted after the hike and the women's cooking smelled better than anything he'd be able to manage with the canned goods and pack of beans. Lara dished out three bowls of the hearty stew with a smile and Trevor dug in. It had a bite to it that he'd never experienced before. It wasn't spicy but it made his throat and tongue tingle as he slurped it down. His requests for information were answered with the names of ingredients that were incomprehensible to his sheltered American ears, but the women assured him it was a native dish.
Stuffed with the goodness of a home-cooked meal, Trevor thanked the duo once more and pushed out from the table. Lara quickly got up and ran to the kitchen. Ilya grabbed his hand and motioned to the kitchen. “No, no,” she pleaded. “Is customs to have dessert.”
Trevor politely declined saying he was too full, but Lara quickly came back with a plate of sliced fruit and the ladies seemed too pleased for him to walk away. Part of the trip was to experience new things, so bottoms up!
The fruit had an intense flavor Trevor wasn't prepared for. It was strong and sharp with a bite like citrus but that melted into sweetness. Once he got over the initial shock, Trevor enjoyed the treat and patted his stomach. “Thank you again! I'm beat though, so I'm going get set up for the night.” He looked around and the women seemed to pick up on his concern.
“Lara and I share room. You not sleep on floor.”
With a final smile and wave, Trevor walked to his pack and bedroll and took it all into the smaller room to the side of the cabin.
He stretched out and smiled, thinking over the day's event. It was off to a rocky start, but from the adversity, Trevor had made two new friends, tried some foreign cuisine, and would be back on his dream trip come morning. Listening to the cold wind outside of the cabin, Trevor drifted off to sleep.
Later that night, the cabin was jolted awake by a rumbling and shaking. Trevor steadied himself by holding onto the wall and made his way out towards the living room, the shaking getting worse and louder. He barely heard the door swing open as the women rushed out with a flashlight. Trevor stopped to think how much more prepared the two of them were, but a jolt to the side of the cabin knocked them all down to the floor. The trio huddled together, away from the windows, and despite the danger, Trevor made the time to take in how gorgeous the women looked in their night clothes. Ilya was dressed in a simple cotton top and pajama bottoms that rode low on her curved hips, while Lara wore a thoroughly impractical nightgown and short shorts. The unexpected guests were shaping up to be a more and more welcome surprise.
“Avalanches!” Ilya shouted, snapping Trevor back to attention. “Much common!” Trevor tried to put on a brave face, but was internally both scared for his life and furious that none of this information had come up with the travel agent.
A final jolt and shudder shook the cabin and the trio shouted in fear. As the quaking slowly died off, they stood up and accessed the damage. The furniture had shaken out of place and they could hear some of the kitchen supplies rolling around on the ground, but there didn't seem to be any major damage. Trevor tried to look out the window, but it was so dark, he could no longer see the stars in the sky. Ilya shone the flashlight over at him and the glistening of ice sparkled outside. He quickly bolted to the entryway, pushing outwards, only to find the door stuck fast. It wouldn't budge an inch. Trevor slumped forward and cursed the builder for having a door that swung outwards.
Lara said something to her friend and Ilya translated. “We check in morning. Snow will shake lose and all be well!”
The duo's overwhelming optimism got to Trevor and he forced a smile. “Right... Right. Everything will be fine in the morning.” The group said another round of good-nights and returned to their rooms to sleep less soundly this time.
The next morning, Trevor woke to find the cabin still dark. He could just barely make out the shine of the ice on the window panes as he shuffled back out to the common area. The women were already hard at work cleaning up the room, tending a fire, and from the smells that greeted him, baking in the kitchen. It was no small miracle that the simple utilities still functioned. Trevor scanned the room and his eyes lit up as he spied the emergency phone in the corner. He excitedly pointed to it, but Lara's glare and the simple shaking of her head let Trevor know that the emergency line was out. They'd have no choice but to wait it and either hope that help came or the snow cleared up enough to create a path to get through a window or tear the door down.
Ilya soon entered with a plate of steaming pastries. It was amazing what she could do with the simple ingredients that stocked the cabin's pantry. The dough was flaky and buttery and the rich filling had the now-familiar taste of their native fruit. Trevor wolfed down more than his fair share of the offering, but the cooks didn't seem to mind. He was already used to the intense taste and could appreciate its complex flavors. Trevor soon felt guilty for eating that much, so he returned to his room and presented the women with the canned goods and supplies he'd bought for the trip. Lara looked them over with sadness and after a hint of disgust, Ilya smiled and waved her hand. “We... we cook. Worry not. You clean, we cook.”
It seemed like a fair trade and they were both far better chefs than anything Trevor could muster, so he agreed to trade. The group finished eating and Trevor cleared the table and tidied up the kitchen while the women got ready for the day. Once they were done, Trevor took a quick shower, thankful that the water heater was still doing its best despite the circumstances and then slipped back into his clothes.
Back in the living room, the cabin-mates had little to do but talk and get to know each other. Ilya was already improving her English and Lara and Trevor were able to pick up the spare word of each others' language, despite some difficulty. Trevor talked about losing his last job after the company was bought out by a rival business and feeling aimless now that he was out of work. He'd moved across the country to get that job and lost touch with his friends and family back home. The women intently listened and nodded along, with Ilya piping in that their home town was much different. They were from a small village without the hustle and bustle of big business, but that had left Ilya and Lara bored and wanting something bigger and more adventurous. They'd planned their camping trip as a test to see how well they'd do away from home and to meet new people.
By the time the group had finished their stories and were better acquainted, it was already late afternoon and the three were hungry again. Trevor had built up an enormous appetite, despite just sitting around the fire all day. The women prepared another feast of a bubbling stew even spicier than the night before's. The three joked the best they could across the language divide and shared stories of their lives back home. Trevor told tales of the drudgery and rat race of working for corporations in the city, while Lara and Ilya spun tales of their small village. Trevor thought it sounded idyllic compared to what he was trying to leave behind.
Full on the bounty and good eats of the meal, the trio decided to turn in early and not waste their supplies and heat. Trevor quickly cleaned up after bidding the women a good night and they shuffled off to their room. Surely tomorrow would bring some respite from the current predicament.
Trevor woke uneasily after a groggy night's sleep. He wrote it off as worrying about potentially losing the whole trip to the avalanche, but schlepped his way out of bed anyway. Sleeping the whole day away would only lead to cabin fever. He threw on his now well-worn outfit and looked in the half-mirror in the corner of the room. He hadn't shaved in a few days but he didn't even have a hint of stubble. Must be stress related. People's hair falls out when they're stressed and that seemed like a fairly medically sound diagnosis. Stress also led to overeating, and Trevor slumped at the thought of that. He'd been eating so heartily that he felt a little bloated. Even his pants and shirt were starting to get snug. Now that he was snowed in, Trevor was worried he'd have to give up his plans of dropping a few pounds and buffing up with some mountain hiking. He'd certainly never been overweight, but it would have been nice to come back from the trip with a little definition.
Ilya and Lara were already at the windows when Trevor left his room. Their dismayed expressions told him everything he needed to know. The snow was still piled up and the door was stuck fast. If it iced over, it would just be that much harder to escape. They ate a simple breakfast of just the fruit and talked little as they stared at the blocked window.
As they finished up, Lara excitedly shouted something in her native tongue and tugged at Ilya's sweater. Ilya nodded and turned to Trevor, “Lara says the chimney!”.
Trevor winced and felt like a fool for not thinking of it earlier. The three walked over to the living room and cleared out the remaining logs from the fireplace. Trevor stuck his head inside and quickly exclaimed, “Light! I see some light!”. The women clapped him on the back and cheered. “There's some kind of grate though. I think... I think I can squeeze up there.”.
Lara gave him a boost and he scrambled his way up to the grate. Trevor jimmied and shook it as best he could, but it wouldn't give in the slightest. Damn thing must have been built into the chimney itself and they certainly didn't have the tools to take it apart. He slid back down to the floor and landed in a cloud of soot. “No luck. It won't budge.”.
The women sighed again and helped Trevor to his feet. Lara clapped her hands tried to shake off the soot. Trevor couldn't understand what she said, but she said it in a fairly universal tone of disgust. She stepped into the kitchen to wash her hands, and Ilya took Trevor to the side.
“Your clothes. They are very dirty. You must change.”
“Sorry, Ilya. It was pretty dirty up there. I'll hop in the shower and scrub off the best I can.”
“No, no.” She shook her head. “I did not want to mention before, but you wear same clothes every day, ja?”.
Trevor sheepishly stammered and tried to explain about the airline losing his luggage. It was a cheap flight the travel agent set up for him but now he could tell why it was such a deal. “I was planning to be in the cabin alone, so I thought it would be all right. There wasn't supposed to be anybody else around for it to bother!”.
Ila nodded solemnly and rubbed her chin. After a short pause, she slapped him on the back, sending out another puff of soot. “Lara and Ilya planned for long trip. We have much spares. You can use!”.
Trevor immediately stepped back and assumed a defensive posture. “I couldn't! That's... that's weird. I mean, you're women and wear-”.
Ilya stepped forward and prodded him in the chest. “You stop! We will not put up with you in stinky old clothes for rest of trip! We would sooner throw you in fireplace.” Trevor nervously backed down. That... that had to be something that sounded a lot harsher due to being unfamiliar with the language. She didn't really mean- “Yes, yes. We give you spares. Such nonsense. You have no other options and who will see you?”
“I- I guess that's true.” They were alone and wouldn't be getting any visitors. By the time the rescue teams appeared or the snow melted, he could wash his clothes in the shower and change back.
Ilya shooed him off to the shower and said she'd leave him the outfit in his room. “Use the scrub in shower. Very fancy! Cleans anything and makes you feel fresh!” Trevor grumbled his thanks and headed off.
Stepping out of the shower, he had to admit Ilya was right. The body wash cleaned the soot right off and left a pleasant sweet smell. He'd have to ask about the brand and see if he could get it back home. In his room, he hung up the towel and looked over the “gifts” that Ilya had left him. Picking up a sky blue pair of satin underwear, he rolled his eyes. But if this is what Ilya had given him as spares, that must mean they were wearing the same thing. He let the mental image cloud his thoughts as he slipped them on. Next, he held up thick gray tights. They were warm and must have been made of some thermal material, but they clung to his legs as he tugged them on. Trevor looked over at the mirror and grumbled at the way they made it look like his butt was sticking out like the yoga pants the women in the city wore when he saw them leaving the gym. That's one thing he'd miss if he ever left the city. Probably a lot fewer women in the mountains or countryside in yoga pants. The final piece was a blouse with buttons down part of the front. It was a soft, slightly shimmering material, but the cut and light purple color clearly identified it as a woman's shirt. Trevor steeled himself and walked out to the communal space.
Ilya gave him a polite smile after looking up from sweeping the last of the soot away. “You feel better.”.
Trevor nodded, a little shocked by the kindness in her voice. Had it been anybody he knew back home and he'd have been in for a world of mockery and teasing. Lara said something to her friend and gave Trevor a small peck on the cheek. He stammered and Ilya giggled. “She says thank you for being the hero of the chimney.”.
For the rest of the day, Trevor fidgeted uncomfortably in the new clothes, so he thankful when the women started cooking and that gave him something to occupy his mind. They showed him how they prepared their dishes, but Trevor was rarely sure of what the spices and sauces they used were. Lara prepared some kind of small roast with some meat they had stored in the ice box and Ilya gave him the task of stirring some pudding as she made dough for tiny pastries. Once everything was ready, the three sat together, closer than before, and toasted their small feast to making the best of the situation. After dropping their dishes in the sink, Ilya returned with a wine bottle and three glasses. She poured a healthy amount for the three of them and chugged hers back with a refreshed sigh. Lara followed suit and nodded over to Trevor. The wine shone with a sheen on the surface that looked like oil in the fire light. He took a cautionary sip and almost immediately gagged. “S-Strong! What is this, pure alcohol?!”.
Lara leaned back laughing and Ilya gave him a playful punch to the shoulder. “I thought you Americans were party people! Can't handle native drink like girls?”.
Trevor motioned to the glass and pleaded the best he could with his eyes. “American beer is like water compared to this!”. The women clucked their tongues and stared him down until he finished off the glass with three agonizing gulps. Ilya and Lara cheered for him and gave him a hearty slap on the back.
“We will handle cleaning tonight. You look like you need rest!”. Trevor could feel his face was already flushed and he was quickly hit with the beginning of a buzz. He said his “good-night”s and wobbled off to his room. Collapsing onto the bed, Trevor immediately entered a deep sleep.
The next morning came far too soon, and Trevor sat in the bed clutching his head. He still felt a bit hungover to compound how tired he felt. Trevor slid out of bed and fell to his knees. He felt sluggish and body was heavy. Everything about his insides felt... full. Like a pressure had built up inside him. Standing in front of the mirror, Trevor looked himself over. Aside from still wearing the ridiculous outfit, he looked normal-ish. A bit puffy from the extra weight is all.
As he shuffled out of the room, Ilya and Lara looked him over and started speaking in their native tongue. Soon, Ilya came over and let Trevor drape his arm over her shoulder and lifted him up straighter. Trevor explained that he wasn't feeling well and after a quick exchange between the women, Lara went to the kitchen. Ilya sat him down and assured him they would be fine if he wanted to rest for the day. The drinks must have really taken something out of him. As Trevor slumped against the table, Lara returned to him carrying a bowl of another kind of stew and said some comforting words. Trevor at least assumed they were comforting. It could have been pity, but she at least sounded nice. With spoon in hand, Trevor took small bites of the new dish and was surprised at how thick it was. Even in his groggy state, it was delicious, but he practically had to chew the stew and it had a slight burn on the way down. His roommates stood by and ensured he ate every last drop before Ilya helped him back to his room. “We will stay quiet while you sleep up. You rest well and feel healthy.” Trevor barely had a chance to thank her before he fell back asleep.
Morning came to Trevor once more and while his mind felt clearer, but he quickly noticed he had discomfort breathing. Putting his hand to his chest, Trevor felt a plush resistance pushing back and an unfamiliar heaviness. He struggled in the dark room to kick off the sheets and find a light, feeling a weight and bobble in his chest and thighs as he kicked out. Stumbling into his pack and knocking it into the garbage can, Trevor found the flashlight in his supplies and fumbled to turn it on. As the beam lit up the room, he saw his shirt stretched against a rise in his chest that jiggled with each panicked exhale. In his panic, Trevor dropped the flashlight and backup against the wall, only to feel a pillowy squish as he pressed against it.
The door swung open and Ilya and Lara rush in. “We heard a commotion! Is Trevor sick?”.
He grasped at the mounds in his shirt and shouted, “I'm a woman!”, then snapped his mouth shut and pawed at his throat in response to the unfamiliar lilt in his voice. Lara looked him up and down and nodded in agreement. “How could this happen!? Is-Is it an allergic reaction? The food, it's- I must still be sleeping. A nightmare...” He cringed as Lara prodded one of his plump thighs and commented back to Ilya. She nodded and stroked Trevor's back.
“It is fine. You are fine. Very hearty! You have much health!”.
“'Fine'?!” Trevor struggled against her, but now Ilya's arm was locked with his and Lara was holding him on the other side. He was too weak and his body too foreign for him to effectively fight back. “What happened to me!”.
Ilya shook her head. “You are fine. Such loudness. American tourists!” The women talked among themselves and shared a laugh as they took Trevor to the table in the living room.
As Lara sat him down, Trevor felt the swell of his expanded hips spread across the seat. He reflexively moved to jump up against the foreign feeling, but Lara pushed him back down and held him in place. Soon, Ilya left the kitchen holding a tall glass of a creamy, green drink. She held it out for him to take, but Trevor turned his head. Lara leaned forward and held his head in place using her side and one arm, while the free hand pinched his nose. Ilya leaned in, forced some of the drink into his mouth, then held his jaw shut. Unable to breathe through his nose, Trevor was forced to gulp it down and when Ilya loosened her grip, he gasped for air. She smiled and held out the drink once more. “Again.” Trevor looked at Lara's stern face, and back to Ilya with her almost caring composed smile. He had nowhere to go, so running wasn't an option and he wasn't strong enough to fight back against the two. Heck, he probably wasn't strong enough back in his normal body with how easily the women were holding him in place. He meekly reached for the glass and took another sip, but with her finger on the bottom of the cup, Ilya pushed it up and sent all of the drink sloshing into his mouth. Trevor gulped the last of it down and coughed, sending more uncomfortable jiggling through his body.
“Why?” he meekly gasped.
Ilya responded in her native tongue, causing Lara to loosen her grip and let Trevor lean against the table. The two engaged in several back and forths, Trevor not understanding a word of but his heart filling with panic. The women hoisted him back to his feet and started walking him back to his room. Ilya lifted him up, with one arm under his back and the other under his thick thighs. “Oof! Very healthy!”.
Trevor woke with a start and was immediately hit by the added weight on his chest. He ballooned up even more during the night and his breasts were straining against Ilya's shirt. His cleavage was even more prominent and after a quick check, Trevor noticed several of the blouse's buttons had popped off during his fitful rest. The tights were stretched out and hugged every exaggerated curve of his new legs and bottom. Ilya and Lara were already cheerfully waiting at his door and hurried him off to the shower to get ready for the day. It wasn't even worth fighting them about it, Trevor knew he was trapped, outnumbered, and overpowered. Stepping into the tiny shower, he felt his bottom press against the cool glass of the shower door. After rushing through the cleaning and the new sensations of his warped body, Trevor wrapped himself in a towel as best he could fit and returned to his room. Lara presented him with a new set of clothes and got to work. She expertly slid his arms through the straps on a bra and snapped it shut. As humiliating as it was, Trevor was thankful for the support and holding back his new additions. She tossed him matching white satin panties and he slid them over his curved backside. A sweater came next and while it covered his skin, it protruded out at his chest and seemed to call more attention to his changes. Finally, Lara helped him struggle into a pair of slacks, already tight and difficult to stuff him into.
Trevor ate his breakfast in silence, while the women chatted in their home tongue at a rapid pace. Their foreign chatter worried him even more. They had done this to him and for a reason he couldn't comprehend. He was trapped in the cabin with freaks.
After the meal, the women shooed Trevor off with the dishes. He had just stepped into the kitchen when a rustling was heard at the cabin's door. In a shock, Trevor dropped the plates and they clattered to the ground and spilled crumbs over the floor.
The cabin door slowly swung open and three figures stepped into the cabin. They were dressed in heavy parkas sporting filled packs with hand shovels and picks hanging off of them. Trevor was overcome with joy and rushed over to the leader, his hips bouncing and swaying with each step. He didn't even pay attention to his chest squishing against the heavy material of their coats as he hugged his rescuers. The crew removed their hoods and walked to each of the cabin-mates to ensure they were safe and healthy.
The leader held Trevor by the shoulders and she looked him over. “Are you feeling all right? Do you have any injuries?”
“No. No! Oh, thank you! I just want to get out of here. Now now now. Please!” Trevor stammered and pleaded.
The rescuer nodded to her crew and they collected the trio's coats and led them through the hole dug in the snow. As Trevor closed his coat and fumbled to get the zipper over the rise of his bust, he looked over the cabin and the snow sealing it off from the world. One of the crew patted his back and lead to him to the trail before shouting something to her teammates in a tongue that Trevor didn't understand but seemed quite familiar.
The journey down the mountain was slow and Trevor internalized the blame for that. He tried to keep his distance from Ilya and Lara so he relied solely on the rescue team to help him through the path and cracks in the mountain. He tired quickly due to the heft of his new body and stumbled often. The sun was already setting when he noticed they were approaching an opening in the mountains and the lights starting to flicked to life in the village below.
It was a quaint little town with vaguely European architecture and designs on the buildings. The kind of place you'd expect to see people wearing lederhosen. What initially appeared to be gas lamps were actually electric street lights with beautiful carved covers. Even though the shops were closing for the night, Trevor could still smell a faint sweetness coming from the bakeries. He did a quick inventory and realized the group had already passed three of them. And clothing shops. Trevor noted two dress shops across the street from one another and spun around to look back over what they had passed on this street. Before he could walk back, two of the rescue crew clapped him on the back and pointed to a manor in the center of the village.
Outside the building, the team was met by a woman in a simple but elegant jacket and skirt. It was difficult to judge her age. She had the bearing and posture of an older woman, but looked to be in her late twenties. When she gave Ilya and Lara a large grin and hugs, Trevor's unease was no longer deniable and backed up into the two rescuers behind him, so they gave him a nudge forward.
The woman approached him and took his hand. “Our dear guest! Such an experience on the mountains. How lucky you are!” She had an accent that matched Ilya's, but a better grasp on English.
“W-who are you? Where am I?!”
“My manners! You are welcomed in our humble village. I am the duchess. Please, come. An honored guest must stay in the manor.” She pulled him forward and held on to his hand as they approached the building. The crew followed closely, blocking any route Trevor could have escaped on.
At the front door, a woman took Trevor's pack and coat and led the rescue team off to the side. The duchess lead Trevor, Ilya, and Lara up the grand staircase and down the hall. Outside a set of double doors she turned to the women. “Dears, will you please wait in the study. We have much to discuss.” Ilya and Lara bowed slightly and walked back down the hall. “Now you, my dear. I'm sure you're quite tired after your journey. Please freshen up and we will talk in the morning.” Before he could object, she deftly slid him into the room and hurried the doors closed. Once over the initial shock, Trevor made for the door handle, but heard something slide into the keyhole and a clunk before he could turn the knob. The door was locked tight and didn't give as he pounded on it and yelled obscenities. He dropped to the floor and landed on his bottom with a cushioned plop and sighed in exhaustion. From being trapped in one place to another. This room was significantly nicer though. It looked like a small palace or shrine with an enormous canopy bed in the center of the back wall and beautiful cabinets and dressers along the sides. He grunted as he got to his feet and stuck his head into the room off to the side to discover a bathroom larger than his apartment back home. Decorated in marble it also looked far more modern than he would have expected from this village. Fluffy towels filled the racks and spaces around the ornate tub and open shower, with various bottles and scented soaps filling every open spot on a shelf.
Trevor shuffled back to the main room and sat down on the most plush bed he'd ever felt. A silken gown was laid out on the bed, but he kicked at it and forced to the bottom of the mattress like it was toxic. He was exhausted from the hike and eventually sleep overcame his fear of the town and its people, so he curled up on top of the mattress and drifted asleep.
Trevor awoke, splayed out on the new bed having wrapped himself in the covers during the night. He sat upright in a start, feeling the now familiar pull and tug from the weight on his chest. An exploratory pat later, he sighed with some sense of release. He hadn't changed any more during the night. He was still just... huge. As he swung his legs over the bed, the door opened and two women walked in in a hurry. Judging from their black dresses and aprons, they looked like maids. Trevor reflexively pulled away from them but was startled by two quick claps from a third woman in the doorway. “You will get up and face the day, ja? Our guest of honor!” Trevor immediately began his protests, but the first two women both took an arm and lifted him to his feet and headed towards the bathroom. One motioned for him to undress will the other laid out the supplies and shook out a towel. They hurried him into the shower and turned on the hot water. In a normal situation, the experience would have been luxurious and the fanciest thing he'd ever experienced, but Trevor hurried through it as fast as he could and stepped out to be met with the maids drying him off in a flurry of towels and buffing.
They scurried him back to the bedroom where the leader had set out an outfit and was closing up the dressers once more. The maids deftly slipped on white silk panties and a matching bustier. They were the best fitting things Trevor had worn since the nightmare in the cabin, but he was still less than pleased. The maids motioned for him to sit as their commander handed them white stockings and looked pleased as they effortlessly rolled them up his smooth legs. Next came a poofy green skirt that no matter how much Trevor stamped it down, sprung back up to its original position that barely covered him. A white blouse with ballooned shoulders was slipped on him and the maids buttoned it up without even looking, followed by a green vest. Finally, they draped a shimmering frilly white apron over him, cinching it tight on his waist and under his bust, lifting his breasts proudly for all to see. Trevor fidgeted, adjusting to the trappings and getting his breath back. When the maids turned their backs, his hands shot immediately to the knots on the apron to free himself, but a sharp rap on the knuckles from their leader stopped him before he could make any progress. Unaware of the incident, the maids turned back and slipped elbow-length gloves over each arm and moved him to sit on the bed once more. They finished off his costume with brown boots featuring a chunky heel and tufts of fur that tickled his knees. The commander seemed please with her handiwork and with a joyful command to the maids, they bowed and left the room.
Trevor stood defeated as the duchess entered the room and beamed. They lavished him with praise and expounded on his beauty with such rapid speed, that Trevor was overwhelmed and let them lead him into the hallway. When his senses finally returned to him, he pleaded with the duchess. “Why? Why are you doing this to me?”
She smiled and rubbed his back gently. “My dear, you are the guest of honor! The whole town has been waiting to meet you for days. You will be a boon to us all!” Despite all the praise, Trevor thought it all sounded sinister. As they led him through the manor, pointing out the various halls, libraries, and studies, he sought exits or places of escape. The twisting corridors and fast pace the duchess kept forced him to stop thinking of places to break out and focus on keeping up in the heels.
When they reached the grand staircase once more, Trevor saw Ilya and Lara waiting on the ground floor. They cooed and gasped at seeing him and praised how wonderful he looked as he slowly descended. Trevor could barely see his feet past his bust, so each step was slow and measured, leaving an infuriating length of time for the women to comment on his beauty and health. Finally reaching the bottom, Ilya gave him a hug. “You fit right in like a native! So pretty! Trevor is not upset, ja?”.
The duchess stepped in and answered before Trevor could swear at his betrayer. “Of course she isn't upset, my dear. You two did a wonderful job and have served the village well. You will be heroes second only to our guest of honor. Come, come! The feast is ready!” They grabbed him by the hand and pulled him, tottering on his heels, into the great dining hall.
As Trevor looked over the crowd, it seemed like the entire village was in that room. And they were facing him and smiling broadly. The duchess led him forward and the crowd closed in behind him. A long corridor of people praising him, offering him kisses on the cheeks, some speaking in their native tongue while others spoke heavily accented English. Trevor did another quick scan of the room and realized that every person there was a women. The entire village! Not a single person looked to be over 30 and they were all varying degrees of pretty through gorgeous. The duchess led him to the head of table, with Ilya and Lara sitting on both sides of his throne, and sat him down. The chair slid forward and despite the noise of the room, Trevor could hear a solid clunking noise coming from under him when the chair was pushed all the way in. It was stuck in place and wouldn't budge. He'd never be able to slip through the chair and escape under the table and there wasn't enough room to twist and get his legs up, so he was stuck too.
The duchess addressed the crowd in the native tongue, made grand sweeping gestures to Trevor, occasionally patted him on the back or head, and the crowd erupted in clapping. A contingent of women near the door fanned out of the room but soon return carrying trays and trays of food. Despite his predicament, Trevor marveled at the grandness at the meal and the dishes laid before him. Several of the servers, clapped Ilya and Lara on the back and most of the food was placed on their end of the table. The townspeople dispersed to their tables and the feast began. The sights and smells were overwhelming but Ilya pushed a beautiful roast over to Trevor and it was the most succulent thing he'd ever eaten. The air was rich with the smells and sweetness of the bounty being offered. After eating a slice of a moist cake topped with slices of what must have been their home crop, the strange fruits he'd eaten in the cabin, Trevor put down his fork and looked for a way to leave. Seeing he was done, Lara picked up a goblet near them and poured some of the green water into Trevor's mouth. It was cool and refreshing, almost effervescent as it went down, but by the time he drank it all, his stomach was gurgling with hunger and the food looked more appetizing than ever. A server came over, refilled his drink and swept another dish over to him.
The routine went on for hours. Trevor couldn't help himself and ate what was passed his way until he couldn't manage anything more. Then, the drink was forced on him, and he went back to being as hungry as if he hadn't eaten for days. He was sure his stomach couldn't possibly hold more, but it was the rest of him that started to feel full again. Like in the cabin, he felt a pressure inside himself as he ate. Meal after meal filled him and he was sure he could actually feel himself growing and pushing out. It happened so slowly he hadn't noticed before, but his top strained to stay up and there was less and less room for him to shift around in the chair. Even his lips felt puffy and plump as he continued to eat and eat.
The banquet seemed to last the entire day, but the crowds eventually started thinning and fewer people were coming to praise Trevor. Soon, the duchess came to the groggy Trevor, gave him a final hug for the night, and thanked him for all he'd do for the village and its people. He didn't have time to delve deeper into that statement before Ilya kicked a switch at the bottom of his chair and released him. Lara joined her to heft their guest up and start him on the wobbly path back to his room. Trevor could feel himself jiggling and bouncing and they helped him up the stairs and was sure that the women's comments and titters were aimed at him. Back at the room, he waved them off, shut the door, and waddled over to the bed to collapse in a food coma.
It was a fitful night's sleep and Trevor woke with unease. He grunted as he tried to roll over to his side, but between the plush bed and further expansion in his own plush backside, he tottered on his back like a turtle. With the bustier and apron hoisting him up and his bent position on the bed, his breasts felt like they were going to suffocate him if they ballooned out any more. And he wasn't sure if he was done with any growth spurts from the day's feast.
Before he could wallow in too much self pity, a green flash sparked out from under the door and then disappeared. There were rustling noises, then another flash and silence. Trevor paused, unsure if he actually saw something, but then another flash and more noises. The pattern followed steadily, getting closer as it moved down the hall. He looked around the room for anything to defend himself with, when the flash reappeared at the foot of his bed and two heads popped out of a green gateway.
“Oooh! Found 'im!” Two figures stepped through and straightened themselves out. One of them, a redhead, waved her arm and the gateway disappeared.
The other, a blonde, glowered at her partner. “Should have just asked for directions...”.
Trevor froze, unsure of what to do. Was this what the villagers were capable of?! They had done this to him, so what teleportation that far off? The redhead looked him over and snickered. “Whoa there!”.
Trevor shot her a glare back, quickly followed by the blonde doing the same. “Mercy! Rude.”
The redhead bit her lip and held back the next laugh. “N-nice outfit there. You... wear it well.”
They didn't seem like the villagers. “Who are you two? What are you here for? What else can you people do to me!?”
The blonde waved him down. “Hold on, buddy. We're not with them. We're a... clean-up crew.” She pointed a thumb at herself. “Ruth. That one's Mercy.” The redhead waved.
Trevor struggled to his knees. “If you're not with them, you have to get me out of here! This village- These people! They're insane! I think- I think they're fattening me up to eat me! They keep forcing this weird fruit on me and I blow up and they're all young so I think they want to eat me for my power and-”
The two women barely stifled their guffaws and the blonde waved him down again. “Cannibals? Seriously? This place is WAY too nice for cannibals.”
Mercy nodded as if she was fully versed in the living conditions of cannibals. “I'm thinking... Remote village, strange crops, her shrine-y digs, the way you're busting out of that outfit... Ooh, ooh! Got it. It's a harvest thing.”
Ruth gave her partner a fist bump. “Good call. The people want to build a shrine to a harvest god and want a living sacrifice to represent a bountiful crop. But it's an isolated village so if they used one of their own, they'd run out of people. Grab somebody new, you, offer you, and it's a good harvest for all your years.”
Trevor gawked, dumbfounded. Mercy shook her head, her pig-tails whipping side to side. “Villagers, ugh. When will people learn that sacrifices don't do anything? The gods don't care. Well, let's get you deflated, friend.”
Their bedside manner left much the be desired, but they were his best hope for getting out of there and sounded like they could even turn him back. Ruth looked around the room. “I can't imagine that they left you anything less... interesting to wear, right?” Trevor sadly shook his head. “Okay, okay. We'll talk to the mayor. You stay put and we'll be back.”
The pair returned after a short while with the mayor in tow, looking as confused as Trevor was. Ruth bowed and made a grand motion at the duchess. “Your honor has agreed to let you go free.”
The duchess nodded sadly to Trevor. “Y-Yes. I talked to these two... creatures... and they assured me and convinced me through their magic that they have connections to the spiritual world.”
Ruth grinned confidently. “We can totally put in a good word with the harvest gods.” Then she turned and glared at the duchess, who shrunk back. “As long as you stop abducting people!”.
Mercy stood on the tips of her feet to appear fearsome. “And if you don't! Locusts! Boom, everywhere. Eveeeerywhere.”.
Trevor grabbed Ruth's arm and let her lead him out of the room. A small crowd had gathered in the hall but backed up as the group left Trevor's room. Ilya and Lara stood back in fear and a look of genuine sadness showed on their faces as Trevor walked away. He almost felt a pang of regret, remembering the enjoyable times they had together. Before the deception and body horror that led to him having two basketballs stuffed in his shirt. Any feelings of sadness quickly vanished and Trevor practically yanked his rescuers through the glowing doorway Mercy summoned.
There was a bright flash of green as they stepped through and they were suddenly in a cozy apartment. Trevor backed up against a wall to steady himself. Mercy took off the gauntlet on her arm and tossed it onto the couch. “Home, sweet home! You can crash on the couch until you're fit to return to your own place.”
The promise of normality snapped Trevor back to attention. “You can really cure me? Please! Go! Gogogo!”
Ruth walked over to the refrigerator and popped open a can of beer. “Hold your horses. They did a number on you, so it's going to take some effort. We clean you up now and all the chemicals and whatnot they pumped into you will just have your bursting out again by morning.”
Trevor stamped his foot, annoyed it made a dainty clack instead of emphasizing his mood. “You said you could fix me! You can't take that back!”.
Ruth waived off his tantrum as if she had seen it dozens of times. “We will. You just need to burn off most of THAT first.” She motioned in the air, tracing the shape of an hourglass with her hands. “You hit the gym, drop some of the excess weight, and burn off the last of their poison and then we can detoxify you and get you back to normal.” She look over Trevor once more, lingering on his bosom. “I think we're going to skip the day pass and get you a membership. This might take a while. What do you want, shorts or yoga pants?”
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Read more Mercyanries comics and stories at: http://www.sincomics.com/ddg.php
Whistleblower
A Mercynaries Story from SinComics.com
Travis plucked away at the keys as he typed up his reports. It had been a nice season for the company so the auditing was sure to be a breeze. Genatics had been good to him this year, so he was happy to help the company do its best. Even if it did have a terrible name. Orientation had told them it was a portmanteau of "Genetics" and "Fanatics" but Travis hadn't been able to find a single person in the office that liked the name or was willing to take credit for it. Maybe what they saved in marketing, they put back into research and that's why they were the leading genetic medical tech company in the country. At least they kept good books.
With the audit of the food services done, Travis glanced up at the clock. It was late enough that he could call it an early day, but he decided to get a start on the inventory audits instead. He assembled the proper files, readied his spreadsheets, and took a quick glance through the processing documentation.
"Heh, looks like somebody made a mistake here." Travis grinned and circled a duplicated entry for a shipment back in February. It was a costly one too. Catching that alone probably paid for Travis's salary, so he was proud of his vigilance. But... there it was again in April. And June. Travis combed over the documents and every two months, there was a duplicate entry. Different amounts each time, but always expensive and always to the prototyping division. Travis pulled the logs for that team and started to cross-reference them with the submitted paperwork.
Travis was deaf to the sounds of his coworkers logging off, saying their good-byes, and heading home for the night as he picked through the files. Nothing added up once you looked deep enough. Sure, it was superficially all there so anybody doing the requisitions would sign off on it, but the details... There were orders for lab equipment from a different supplier than the company normally went through. Shipments that were checked in but the teams never filed as received. Multiple logs for delivery trucks arriving and leaving but no records for a delivery or pick-up. Travis furiously scrawled notes and addenda in the margins of the paperwork.
By the time Travis finally put the binders down and took a breather, the office was long silent. Travis rubbed his eyes and shuffled off to the kitchen for a drink. As he passed the windows, he saw that the sun was on its way down. Or... it was coming back up. Travis ran back to his desk and saw the clock already read 7. AM, not PM. With a groan, Travis slumped back into his chair. Maybe this was for the best. He had to run these findings by his supervisor as soon as possible. They had to know so they could get to the bottom of this waste as soon as possible. Travis put his head down on his desk and decided to just sleep until the HR team got back to the office.
"Look, Morris! Look at these notes!" Travis shoved a messy stack of folders and papers at his supervisor's chest.
"Travis, whoa. Let a man get some coffee first thing in the morning! And are you wearing... did you sleep here?"
"Maybe... Yeah, kind of. This stuff was just too big. Once I started digging in, there was just too much for me to stop looking. The prototyping division is up to something shady. They're possibly ripping off the company. Like, big time! It's millions!"
Morris stopped and turned back towards Travis. He held out his hand for the files. "Prototype division?"
Travis nodded furiously. "It's all there, man." He got in close and started poking at his scrawled notes, some frantically underlined an unnecessary number of times.
Morris sat back down at his desk and flipped through the paperwork while Travis detailed instance after instance of duplicated or missing documentation.
Eventually, Morris put the files down and slid them back to Travis. "Who knows?"
Travis shrugged. "Anybody that actually did the work. I just found this last night and came right to you, but-"
"We need to bring this to the top, Travis. Come on." Morris motioned for the auditor to follow behind him with the stack of files. They checked the halls for any other employees and made their way to the lone elevator that rose to the top of the company. Morris scanned his badge and they were on the way to speak with the director. They stood in silence, with Travis hunched over his handiwork.
"Travis?"
"Yeah, Morris, what's-" Travis heard a loud snap and then his nose with filled with an acrid burning. His eyes immediately teared up and he became short of breathe seconds before dropping the files and slumping to the floor.
Morris place the now empty gas pellet back in his pocket. The elevator slowed to a stop at the top of the building and Morris bowed to the leader at her desk. "Miss Farthing, we have a problem. I have a new subject for you, but your division is getting lazy with their paperwork.
Travis woke in an almost blindingly white room. Every surface was so overly lit that he could only just barely make out the nose on his face against the creeping halo of white in his eyes. Travis went to rise but found he was unable to control his body. Unable to turn his head, he desperately tried to move his legs and free his arms but everything was bound and unresponsive. Not even his mouth would open and he was unable to form words or yell for help. The faint sound of sloshing water was all that Travis could make out, but he was sure he saw a mass of tubing bob in and out of his vision before he passed out once more.
With a vague sense that more time had passed, Travis woke again. He had some sensation back but he was still unable to move beyond a small twitch. From what little he could see and feel, he was in a tub or a tank, floating, and was covered with a white sheet. The outline was all wrong though. The sheet rose up at his chest, bringing it into his view. It swayed gently as he floated in the tub and he could make out ripples of movement as he tried his hardest to thrash about. Straining as hard as he could to regain control of his limbs, a shrill beeping noise emanated from behind his head. The room was soon bustling with workers looking over charts and pointing. Travis could just barely make out muffled voices and they were all dressed in white scrubs and dark goggles. A mask soon entered from the top of Travis's view and covered his mouth. A sweet, fruity aroma filled the mask and Travis slept once more.
The routine played out again and Travis found himself upright and leaning against a padded table. He could feel something around his waist fastening him to the table and his legs were bound, but he was able to move his forearms. His hands were covered by a puffy mitten, removing any dexterity he had in his fingers. He pawed the mitten against the table, but was unable to remove it. Travis looked down past the growing swell at his chest and saw his feet were also covered but they were encased in what appeared to be metallic boots pointed down. Travis kicked and pulled against his bonds as best he could but was snapped back and slapped against the table with a cushioned bounce. He felt the slap ripple through his buttocks and down his thighs and a corresponding jolt through the bizarre rise on his chest.
Travis was still thrashing and struggling as a door off to his side opened. Morris strode over, looking over a tablet and comparing it with a monitor behind Travis's bed. "This wasn't ideal, Travis. You saw too much."
Travis tried hard to reply but the words never formed.
"Miss Farthing graciously decided to keep you with the company, so you're still a big help. In fact, you're aiding the very division that you were looking to tattle on. A company this large always has... side projects." Morris could see the weak confusion and desperation in Travis's eyes. "I know you're feeling down right now. You've been out for months at this point. It took some effort, but I was able to clean up." Morris set down the laptop and pulled a chair out in front of Travis.
"We were able to cover our tracks and the former Mr. Travis was a big help. After your... disappearance, we notified the authorities that you stopped showing up and a significant amount of company money was missing. Of course the investigators found plenty of documentation and your notes at your desk. Thanks to a few alterations, the prevailing theory is that you've been siphoning off money and fled." Travis moaned and struggled against his bonds again. "But don't worry. We're taking care of the new you. You're very important to the company. You're helping out with some exciting new projects." Morris pressed a trigger on the monitor beside Travis and the bound employee drifted back to sleep.
The next time Travis woke, he was stuck in a chair in another white room. Canisters lined the walls with their tubes leading over to him but he wasn't able to move enough to see what they fed into. His hands and feet were still bound and he was stuck to the chair by the swell of his own hips and thighs. His bust was round and full, propped up by the strap holding him to the chair. The effects of the drugs had worn off enough that Travis could now feel the heft of his curves and the pull as he struggled to stand and shake off the constraints. Still weak, the sensations were exhausting and he slumped back down. There was something wrapped over the top of his head and he could feel liquid flowing in and out of the dome as it occasionally whirred to life and new colors flowed from the canisters to him.
Soon, a door opened behind Travis and a woman in a white smock entered with a case tucked under her arm. "Ohhh you're looking much healthier today! The team is very proud of you."
Travis's eyes lit up and tried to frantically spill his story to the stranger. The words felt odd forming in his throat and the voice was melodic but unfamiliar. "You have to help me! It was Morris, I-"
The woman smiled. "Yes, dear, we know. Your contribution to the project has put us in the final stages and you came out great." She nodded her head towards Travis's chest.
"No, I-" before he could get any further, the woman popped a small cylinder into his mouth and it held his lips together. "Mppfh!" A click sounded and his mouth was suddenly filled with a thick slime that oozed down his throat.
The woman dug through her bag as she continued. "That will help clear up the non-genetic changes left. Your voice will feel better and we'll clean up what's inside. You're almost done!"
Travis whimpered as he felt the tingling run down his throat and through his lungs and down to his stomach. Next came a small curved dish with a plunger she placed over his lips. With a tap of the trigger, Travis felt a sting for a split second, followed by a tightening of his mouth. His lips felt full and bursting and after she removed the device, he could see they were plump, colorful, and ever so slightly pouty, like he was about to blow the world a kiss.
The woman clapped her hands and grinned. "A-dorable!" She bent over and removed the mitts from Travis's hands and he stretched his fingers for the first time. They were slender and the nails had grown long as he slept. Finally, the boots came off and the woman nodded and marked down some notes. "Good, good." Travis stretched to look but was held back to the chair. "The reshaping is complete. You have a good four-inch lift there, dear! Tomorrow, you'll be ready to move on from your restructuring and into monitoring and observation. Congratulations, honey."
The next morning, Travis struggled with the straps on his bra and fought against his new curves. When the hooks snapped together, he glared over at the minder by the door. "Happy now?"
The woman shook her head. "You have to get completely dressed, dear. We have to get you presentable."
Travis cursed under his breath and pulled the skirt off the rack in front of him. He shimmied it up his legs and stretched it out over his rounded bottom. Next came the blouse, which Travis easily slipped on and buttoned up, happy to finally be covering his cursed chest. He glared back at the woman, who shook her head and pointed to the pink blazer. Travis wrapped himself in it and the minder nodded, stepped aside, and motioned for Travis to exit.
In the next room, Morris sat at a desk looking over some files. He rose when Travis tottered in on his heels. "You look great!"
Travis stayed back by the wall and muttered in contempt. "Asshole."
Morris sat down again and spread his arms wide. "You're helping us on the final frontier. Curing genetic disorders, custom medication, and tweaking was only the start. Mastering genetics is the next corporate battle, and with your help, Genatics is poised to win that war! No longer will we be prisoner to our genetics; we now have the power to create our own genes!"
Travis shrugged. "So you made a mockery of me to hide your illegal tests. Can I go now?"
Morris shook his head no and rose again. "No, you're still going to be a big help for us. We'll want you on hand to run tests and verify our results. You'll be set up in the division. We always need somebody to do the desk work for the higher ups.
The back wall opened to reveal an elevator and Morris motioned for them to enter. It rose for a while before slowing to a stop and revealing a gleaming white and glass office space. People in lab coats scurried back and forth, barely paying attention to the new members. Morris pointed to a circular desk stationed outside the largest office.
"Here's your work station. Everything you need will be here and we'll keep an eye on you until you come to appreciate the good work we're doing here."
Travis glared at his boss and walked over to the desk. It was simple but loaded with files and a computer ready to go. He picked a silver nameplate off the desk and flipped it over. "Who is Geena?"
Morris grinned and spread his arms. "You, of course! Now, check your station for your work and I'll be back at the end of the day. Work hard! A secretary has to be useful or be eye candy."
Travis clenched his fists and sat down at the desk as Morris returned to the elevator and vanished out of sight as the doors closed. Travis woke the computer and opened the file at the top of his list. When the spreadsheet opened, a small clock popped open in the corner of the screen and started ticking down. He looked around the file, closed it and searched the computer, but didn't see what the clock was tied to. He moved through the file, slowly entering the data and filing the associated paperwork, looking them over for clues and hints about what was going on or hope for a way back to normal.
As Travis neared finishing the first file, the timer reached its end and dinged lightly. He searched around but didn't see anything change in the file, so he continued working. With the last paperwork put in the cabinet, Travis saved the file and closed it down. The timer vanished and a new readout appeared on his computer.
"Total time. 3 minutes 46 seconds behind par. Penalty."
Travis leaned forward to investigate but gasped when he felt a rumbling inside him. He shifted uncomfortably as his skirt started to cling and tighten. He swiveled in his chair and saw that it wasn't the skirt shrinking, but his backside pushing out and expanding. His bottom was fuller and plumper! Travis wrapped his arms across his chest as he felt it rumble. The blazer was being pushed out and constricting his chest. His fingers moved to the buttons to relieve the pressure, but his nails were growing longer and he fumbled opening it. As it popped open, Travis saw his breasts stretching the blazer out. This must have been what Morris meant when he said to work hard or be eye candy!
The computer readout changed once more, with the words vanishing and being replaced by a new timer. The readout shrunk to the corner of the screen then started to tick down again. Travis swore and pulled his chair back up to the computer, trying to ignore the new fullness in his body and get back to work. He flew through the file in a hurry, categorizing rows and data as fast as he could, ignoring the jiggle and wobble as she spun around to place the paperwork in the cabinet. Travis tried his hardest to push the feelings out of his mind and just focus on the work. His longer fingernails slipped off the keys so he had to adopt a new posture to accommodate his new body.
The next data sheet was completed with minutes to spare and Travis cleared it and closed it out with a sigh. The timer vanished once more and the readout reappeared.
"Par time completed. 3 formatting errors. 1 spelling error. Penalty."
Travis leaned forward and shook the monitor. "Come on! I can't type like this, you-"
He groaned and doubled over in the chair. Once more, his bottom expanded out, filling out the skirt and seat under him. His breasts rose and the blouse stretched over them. Travis's fingernails pushed themselves out farther and he scraped them against his forehead as he brushed away strands of hair that floated down in front of his eyes.
Travis looked back to the computer and sighed as the readout once again switched back to the timer and a new file was highlighted. His chest now pushed out, covering part of the keyboard, longer hair obscured his view, his bottom had him stuck in the chair, and his pointed nails were a danger to others and his own typing. The new file and timer beckoned.
At the end of the day, the elevator opened again and Morris walked back to Travis. The manager's smile sunk and he slowly shook his head. "Rough first day, Geena? Keep at it though! If you don't want to work, maybe you can be a bit of a mascot for the team in the lab!"
Travis glowered, but a day's worth of mistakes fighting against his body and computer made it appear more like a pout. As he turned to shut down the computer, he chest wobbled and bounced against the strained blouse, now with several buttons open to give his ample breasts room. Travis grunted to pull the seat back and free his bubbled behind, before pulling the blazer on as far as it would go, pulled down his skirt to cover what little it could, and then followed Morris back to the elevator.
Morris dropped the company's new curvaceous secretary off at the facility's dorm and left via the elevator. Travis immediately spun around and pulled on the panel's handle but it was locked from the other side. He did a quick check of the premises, but the apartment lacked windows or other routes of escape. Travis leaned against the wall and sighed, fighting back the mix of anger and sadness. After collecting himself, Travis kicked off the heels and stood flat on the floor for the first time all day. He rolled his ankles against the numb throb he felt up the back of his leg. Having his feet flat on the ground felt uncomfortable, almost unnatural. Was this why the lab had him bound to those boots? Travis searched the room and its closets for new clothes, but all the slippers and shoes featured high heels. Resigned, he slipped on a pair and peeled himself out of the day's costume. Travis desperately searched for a pair of pants but the best he could find were some tights, but there was no way he'd be able to get them over his current curves. He settled on a flimsy nightie, but even that was stretched tight.
Travis searched the apartment but found no means of communication with the outside world or anything to help him out of his predicament. He had no choice but to play along with the company's tests.
Travis awoke to find his sleepwear loose around him. His breasts were still full and perky, but they were less cartoonish this morning. Even his hair seemed shorter and less prone to flittering in front of his eyes. It seemed like the extreme changes from his work's penalties would wear off over night and he would just be left as a curvaceous bombshell instead of a walking billboard for male fantasy. He got ready for the day and looked over what was in the closet once more. It was wall to wall dresses, skirts, and blouses. They hung slightly loose, but Travis knew that was just false hope and they would be restrictive and ready to burst if he didn't play along.
Morris soon arrived with a smile and motioned for Travis to join him in the elevator. "Cute outfit, Geena. I knew you would take to this. The data from yesterday was a great help!" Travis stood in silence and held back his contempt for a man he once saw as an ally in the corporate world.
Armed with yesterday's knowledge of the tasks before him, Travis was able to find a balance between speed and cautious data entry to avoid too many mistakes and penalties. By the time his lunch break rolled around, his blazer still fit him but his skirt was tight enough that he could only take short mincing steps.
When Morris came to pick Travis up at the end of the day, the supervisor seemed almost upset that Travis had something resembling a reasonable figure. They rode the elevator back to the apartments in silence. Travis took that as as much of a victory as he was likely to earn.
As the elevator doors closed and Morris was whisked away, Travis heard a voice from the shadows.
"Are you alone?"
Travis spun around as best he could. "Who's there?!"
"Are you alone?"
Travis nodded to the unseen figure. "Yeah, Morris left."
A redheaded woman in pigtails walked out from the hallway, followed by a blonde woman. The blonde spoke first. "I'm Ruth. Mercy and I are here to free you. We've been monitoring these labs and there is some seriously illegal super science going down. Let's get you out of here!"
Travis took a moment to collect himself. Even if this was a trap, it wasn't like he had other options. "I can't just leave. Look what they did to me! I have to get back to normal!"
Mercy held up the device on her arm to Travis. "Whoa, they did a number on you. These readings... everything is off."
Travis's knees buckled. "Oh god, what's wrong?!"
The blonde looked over and shook her head. "It's not... wrong, it's just... The scans show your genes... everything is perfectly normal for a woman."
"But I'm not a-"
Mercy nodded. "We know, we know. That's the problem. Usually when we find somebody like you, their genetic code is a mess and there's a clear sign something is wrong. Then you just need to clean that out and things go back to normal. But your stuff... It's like you're a whole new person."
The trio spent the night running tests on Travis but they were unable to make much progress. Hope came when they found readings for a foreign body inside Travis.
Ruth looked it over up and down. "There's something in you. Maybe that's how they're controlling you and pumping you up."
Travis wasn't pleased with their phrasing, but this was a step in the right direction. "So get it out already!"
Mercy shrugged. "That won't do it. Your genes are already too far gone. Just ripping it out wouldn't turn you back. We may... we could add some tracking to it and monitor the changes. Maybe we could work back from there to-"
"Wait, 'monitor the changes'? You want them to do this to me again?!"
Ruth defensively put her arms up. "It's the only plan we have. You need to... go about your day as normal, get zapped, and we can try to build off of that data."
Travis sunk down into the couch. "What about you?"
"We'll have work to do getting everything we need to shut down this lab so this doesn't happen to anybody else. We'll prep on our end and meet up with you tomorrow night."
With that, Mercy tapped on her device and a green doorway appeared. The women stepped through and vanished.
The next morning, Travis searched the closet for the loosest clothing he could find, resigned that he'd have to sacrifice the day for the strangers to complete their investigation. He found a blue dress with room in the bust and a skirt down to his knees that looked like it wouldn't suffocate him or tear off after the penalties that were imminent. Morris collected him with some platitudes about what a good worker Geena was how happy she made the team.
With the first document ready, Travis scanned the spreadsheet for the typos he laced it with, held his breath, and clicked to submit it. He clamped his eyes shut and ignored the penalty prompts as he felt the familiar rumbling and tightness in his body, followed by the steady expansions in his bust and hips. He looked himself over and nodded, still room to grow so back to work. The process continued through the day, with Travis more and more worried as he filled out the dress, his bust heavy and obtrusive with his butt firmly wedged into the office chair. He licked his plump lips and swept back the unwieldy hair as he submitted another sabotaged file. Travis wasn't sure if it was all in his head, but even his sighs sounded breathy and inviting now.
At the end of the work day, Morris came back and Travis could tell he was fighting back snickering as he looked over the secretary's extreme hourglass figure. Morris pat him on the back and made some comment about making sure the chemicals weren't affecting his mind, but Travis spent more attention on making sure he didn't tip over in his heels. After the elevator brought him to his apartment, Travis hurried as best he could in his current state to the living room and was thrilled to see the strange women waiting.
"Did you get it?!"
Mercy smiled and gave him a thumbs up. "You bet! We were able to trace the signal being sent to your device. We tagged all the personnel and materials to take out after we fix you. This company is going down!"
A voice rang out from behind them, "What's going on here?!"
The women spun around to see Morris holding the elevator door open. Ruth bound over the couch and dove to prop the door open as Morris jammed on the elevator buttons. She grabbed him by the collar and shoved him to the floor of Travis's apartment.
Morris collected himself and glared at them. "Miss Farthing will hear of this! We warned you, Travis! You can't-"
Ruth casually kicked him back to the ground. "I suppose the jig is up, but we can't have you ruining things too early. So here's what's what. You're going to fix Travis here, then we're going to destroy your lab, and if you play along, we'll only report you to our agency and not toss you in jail for illegal testing and framing an employee."
"You can't! If you think this company will-"
Mercy tapped her device and Morris's tablet suddenly lit up with server warnings and outages reported across the campus. "Don't worry, those are all low priority systems. I just wanted to let you know we're serious to speed things up. Our intel says this company does make some legit medicine, so we don't want to bankrupt you unless you make us play hard."
Morris stammered and switched from his tablet to the grinning strangers threatening to destroy the company's empire. "It doesn't work that way... Geena, Travis. It's not just a switch you flip. The sequencing creates new genes from scratch."
Ruth nodded. That corroborated what their scans had shown. "So just remove the devices and resequence him back to normal."
"You can't just pluck them out, you fools. To get the treatment flowing and the body to self-regulate, they're in her brain and heart. Tear them out and who knows what will happen!"
Travis stamped his foot, the gesture more comical than threatening due to the jiggling it created. "What the hell do you mean?! I can't be-"
Ruth pressed on Morris's back with her foot and pinned him to the ground. He stammered, "We could try something! R-Reload the sequence with old data. She'd have to redo the procedure, but it would generate her old body."
Travis came over and shook Morris by the shoulders. "But you'd still have your hooks in these devices! I want you out of me!"
Mercy spoke up from the couch. "It'll be cool. Once we shut the lab down, there will be nothing to transmit. They'll be in you, but inactive."
Travis clenched his fist and dropped Morris. "No way! That's not good enough! He should- He should have the same thing happen to him. Make him a freak like he did to me."
Ruth shook her head and tried to affect a calming tone. "Doesn't work that way. We're here to shut down all this illegal super science. You can't just trade one artificial lady for another."
Travis growled and stomped at Morris. He barely had time to pull his hand back to avoid the heel of Travis's shoe, a fashion choice he now regretted requiring in the model.
Ruth yanked Morris away. "Merc, do something. I'm not sure I can easily subdue somebody that, uh, round."
Travis went to move for Morris once more, but Mercy raised her device and started frantically tapping on the display. Travis shuddered and felt a rumbling inside him and his body felt like it was bursting from the inside. He rapidly ballooned up and out, popping the buttons on the dress as his chest expanded. All the slack in his skirt was suddenly taken up by his voluptuous curves and the dress hobbled him. Travis wobbled then hit the floor with a poomph as his breasts broke his fall. Pinned by his own curves Travis struggled to get back up but couldn't manage. Morris sighed in relief but the Mercs glared back at him and he knew he had no choice but to cooperate.
Travis was given a few days in his apartment to cool off and for his curves to normalize before he began the procedure once more. He felt the return procedure was frustratingly slow, but he gradually lost his feminine figure and was soon put back to sleep for the final reversions. Mercy and Ruth kept tabs on the procedure the whole way through, ensuring that the company was held to Morris's word and collecting all the notes and data before Genatics was purged of the division's forays into super science.
The company did what it could to clear Travis's name from the espionage accusations, but Travis was ultimately given a new identity and the Mercs ensured he received a generous pay off to keep his mouth shut (and to prevent him from seeking revenge). The team agreed to allow Genatics to run and continue their legitimate medical enterprises, but the prototyping division was shuttered and all its remaining research and materials were handed over to the Mercs and their higher ups with the understanding that it if it was started up again or Travis's devices were reactivated, there would be hell to pay.
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