The Power~1

It was quiet, very quiet, if you don't count the owls hooting and the scurrying of small mammals as they searched for food.

Oh, and then there were bats. I don't like bats much, nothing personal, but the sound of leathery wings and high pitched squeaks just don't do it for me...

The Power


Susan Brown


Chapter 1

It was quiet, very quiet, if you don't count the owls hooting and the scurrying of small mammals as they searched for food.

Oh, and then there were bats. I don't like bats much, nothing personal, but the sound of leathery wings and high pitched squeaks just don't do it for me.

Anyway, here I was in the woods, deep in the woods; so deep that I couldn't see the house.

A good job that I couldn't see the house; as that meant that no one from the house could see me.

You see, I was naked.

Now my sorry tale, such as it is, what it isn`t is one of those kinky type stories but the truth, the whole truth, so help me.

You may be wondering why I would be standing in the forest naked?

Good question, I was wondering that myself as it was none too warm and I was having second thoughts about this thing.

I sighed. This was no good, was I man or a mouse? I had decided to do it and I wasn't going to change my mind now. Mum thinks that I am stubborn, and I suppose I am. My Dad thinks that I am a wimp, but his wimp, and I suppose he has a point. My older sister believes that I am a moron–but as she is beneath contempt, I generally ignore her.

All this wasn't getting the job done. By the light of the candle, I went over to the tree stump and looked at the book one more time. I checked and double checked. Everything was in place and the only thing missing was me.

Why did I want to do it? I always wanted to know what it was like and how things are from the other side of the fence. Now I had my chance. If Mum and Dad knew I was doing this, they would hit the roof and I would be grounded until I was 98. My sister, bless her, if she knew what I was doing, would throw a wobbly and call me everything under the sun, including creep and pervert.

She was a bit of a bully, my sister. Just because she was older, bigger and more powerful than I will ever be.

I couldn't help being small for my age with no hair other than the short black hair on my head. What can you expect? I was only 13, and many boys of that age don't have hair under their arms or legs and those other interesting places. My voice hadn't broken either; so what? Dad said that I would spurt up all of a sudden, get hair and have a deep voice like him, one day. Well there was no sign of it yet but I kept hoping.

One thing though that had been on my mind for quite a while and had sort of taken me over. I wondered hat would it be like to be like my sister?

I don’t mean that in a pervy, I want to sniff her panties sort of way.

I must admit to being envious of her. She had all the breaks; She was going St Vlad's because of her ‘gift'. I couldn't go to St Vlad's because I didn't have enough power as a boy to get any benefit from it. Girls were so much more powerful than boys. The power went more or less through the female lines, and although boys and particularly men do have some powers, they were nothing like the ones that girls have.

Sister dear was only home at weekends, as she boarded at school during the week. That was the only good thing about the situation; she was out of my hair for 5 days a week.

It had been bugging me for some time that I was, shall we say, less advantaged than my sister, because she is a witch and I was a wizard.

So she went to St Vlad's. Once a school just for vamps, (vampires), now it had expanded to include witches, (no wizards, we aren't good enough), werewolves, and things that go bump in the night–don't ask.

I had to go to the local secondary school–what joy.


Mind you, I could cast minor spells even at my age. I could boil cold water, illuminate a room, clean the dishes and mow the lawn with a wave of my hand–we didn't use wands, that was so yesterday, as were broomsticks and all that sort of mumbo jumbo. The modern witch and wizard community has had to move with the times and we have different ways of doing things now. Anyway, it might be noticed if we flashed around with wands and flew up in the air on broomsticks. No it was all done either in the mind or by waving your arms in a specific way to do your spells. As for flying, we sort of travelled short distances in conventional flying mode or teleported; that is adults did. Kids weren't allowed to do that until they passed their TFPT, (Teleport and Flying Proficiency Test). The highest we as kids could go was 6 feet and then only in strictly controlled conditions and even then you weren't allowed to go at more than 10 miles an hour and no farther than 1 mile as the crow flies. Mind you, being a wizard, I couldn't rise above head height and my speed was roughly that of a snail.

There was one boy who broke the rules cos he thought he was a clever dick, he somehow teleported himself 50 miles on a Friday night when there was a full moon, ended up in a zoo and into the stomach of a crocodile … they sent the bits back to his mother.

Enough of that; I needed to focus. I looked up.

Yup, full moon; check.

I looked at my watch that I had placed on the tree stump.

1 minute to midnight; check.

All clothes off? Oops, I still had my socks on. I hurriedly took them off; check.

Book open at the right page? I peered down, yes, it was the page where the spell was and I remembered the incant word for word; check.

I stared at my watch; 15 seconds to go.

10 seconds to go.






I stepped into the pentacle that I had painstakingly made by moonlight and then spoke the words necessary.

The words are secret, so don't bother asking.

I repeated the incantation three times, picked up the goblet containing the pure water of the Sacred River and the added extra ingredient of a few of my sisters’ hairs and then, after taking a deep breath, I drank deeply.

I finished off the usual way by saying ‘’So mote it be,' and that was that.

I stood there and waited for something to happen.

An owl hooted, the candle made guttering noises and joy of joy, a bat crapped on my head. I shivered and wondered, not for the first time why some spells need to be done in the nude, at midnight and with a full moon. Then I remembered what Granny Myers once told me. She cackled toothlessly, (Silly, really, as she had a perfectly good set of false teeth, but chose not to use them), and then looked me up and down. ’You should have been a girl Daniel. You have the look of a half formed girl; you are too pretty to be a boy.’ ‘

She shook her head and then continued. ‘Being a boy or man has disadvantages. Your magic is not so powerful except on special occasions.'

She made it sound as if I had some sort of disability and should be pitied.

‘What thpethual occathions Granny?' I asked.

I had braces on my teeth at the time; want to make something of it?

‘Well Daniel, at certain times of the year and in certain circumstances, wizards are very powerful,'

‘When'th that Granny?'

‘You will be told when you need to know. Now, have you done your homework?'

‘Oh Granny!'

I wasn't supposed to know about that sort of thing until I was an adult. But I had found out by mysterious and mystical means-well OK, I read it on the internet. If you know where to look and there is information on there that tells you almost anything–Hail Google.

Still I waited and nothing happened.

Then the clouds came over and covered the moon. It started raining and I was seriously peed off. I picked up my coat and put it on. The book I put in a Tesco's bag. I nearly fell over putting my socks on and my shoes. I hadn't bothered with any other clothing, I didn't see the point.

Picking up my watch, I noted that it was 12.15.

With a sigh, I covered up the traces of the pentacle and made my way out of the woods and back to the house.

I climbed the tree that had the convenient branch just outside my room and soundlessly let myself in.

The place was in darkness as my family, rather boringly, went to bed early. All except my sister who, as it was a weekend, was having a sleepover with the weirdoes she calls friends. Her absence was the only glimmer of light in what was a pretty dismal night.

After drying myself off, I put on my pyjamas and went to bed. As I lay there, I wondered what I could have done wrong. All I’d wanted to do was be a girl for a few hours until daybreak. I wanted to experience what it would be like to be a witch who could do powerful spells at any time and not the weak ones that I was only able to do with a great deal of effort.

All right, I would have lost my penis for a bit and would have long hair and be erm, girly, but it would have only been for a few hours until dawn and then I would be he-man Daniel again.

All I wanted was to experience the power, but like everything else, I had failed miserably.

I had no friends at school and made sure I stayed under the radar of those people who, if they wanted, could make my life a living hell.

I was nerdy inasmuch as I liked reading and spending time in the library. I read all that I could about witchcraft and what made us special–well, girl witches anyway. They say that 1% of the world's population are Wiccan. Maybe that is so, but there are to my knowledge only ten families in our town with the gift, and most of them don't bother any more. There might be more witches, but maybe they wanted to blend in with everyone else. Modern life with all its conveniences does not seem to mesh very well with the Wiccan way of things. Non-Wiccans are aware of us, of course, but in some quarters we are resented as being different. In the old days they used to burn witches at the stake-a pointless exercise that increased the greenhouse effect-Witches just teleported out of there with no more than singed clothing, leaving the optical illusion of someone still in there getting, erm, burnt.

I shut my eyes and then opened them as a loud purr assaulted my ears.

‘Oh Bracken, shut that racket up will you?'

Bracken was my cat. All wizards and witches are given a cat on their 7th birthday. They are more important to witches than wizards, as the feline species connect better with girls rather than boys. That didn't mean that Bracken didn't like me or I her; we are close, but I knew that Sarah, my sister had some sort of strong rapport with her cat, Matilda.

Anyway, it was strange that Bracken was behaving this way. Normally speaking she was out on the town most nights with his buddies and only sneaked home in the mornings. Now she was all over me like a rash and wouldn't stop his mega-purr.

In the end, she curled up on the bed beside me as I tried to get some sleep.

It was hard though, as I couldn't get over the bitterness of not at least being allowed to feel like a witch for a short time. It had been by accident that I found the old book of spells in the attic. As soon as I dusted off the cover, I knew what it was.

Ye Book Of Spells.

Granny had told me about it in general terms and said that it wasn't used much now as more modern ways had been found.

Being the original bookworm, I decided to read it and see if there were any spells that might be cool. I fancied turning my sister into a toad or something.

I sneaked it downstairs and then secreted it in my room. I had a special hidey-hole under one of the floorboards and I hid it there until I could read it without prying eyes.

It was a few days before mum and dad were asleep, (I could hear the snoring), and Sarah was sleeping at school.

Granny was in her erm, granny house at the end of the garden, by the babbling brook, so I didn't have to worry too much about her bat-like radar.

I got up and sneaked over to the corner of the room. I waved my finger and it lit up. I know that it sounds gross, but I mean it glowed. It was one of the magic things that I could do and the other main one, boiling a mug of water, sort of gets boring after a while.
It’s quite funny in the dark when I light my finger and stick it up my nose, I get all glowy and demonic looking …

Anyway, by the light of my glowing digit, I lifted the carpet, dislodged the loose board and extracted the book from its hiding place.

I took it out of the Tesco's bag and then climbed back into bed. Opening the book, I could suddenly hear the flutter of wings outside my bedroom window. It sounded like bat wings so I got up and went to close the widow. The last thing I wanted were bats around, especially as they could be vamps that had meta-meater-morph, transfig, oh hell, changed.

Back in bed I opened the book and sneezed. There was still a lot of dust on the book and the pages smelt a bit musty.

I looked at the spells listed in the front of the book. There were love spells, money spells, (inc wealth generation), spells that increased intelligence, spells against those that would do us harm, and other ones for all sorts of situations.

There were no dark spells that I could see, and that didn't surprise me, as we were Light Wiccans rather than dark ones. We didn't speak of dark witches much. They were the ones that frankly sent shivers down my spine and gave me the heebie-jeebies. They were not very nice people and liked sticking pins in effigies, boiling nasty stuff in caldrons and doing unspeakable things.

I think they cackle a lot too and have hairy warts on their noses, but that might just be a rumour. Sarah liked to tell me stories about the Dark Ones when I was little and it was her who once made me wet my bed …

Enough of that, this book was good for many sorts of spells that were helpful but not for the turning sisters into toad type spells.

I sighed and then decided that I would have to do something else to my sister, given the chance. I could make her love some dorky, spotty kid in her class with the manners and odour of a pig. Now that sounded like fun, but the only problem was, being a wizard rather than a witch, it might not work for me, unless …

… I could do it on Friday night, when there was a full moon, if I managed to do it then, at the height of what powers I had; there was a chance that I could pull it off. I would need a lock of her hair, but that wasn't a problem as she never cleared out her hairbrush.

I carried on, reading well into the night and I was yawning hugely and just about ready to put the book away, when my eye caught the edge of a slip of paper near the back of the book. I opened the book and there it was, in paper as old as the book itself, and written in shaky longhand.

Of course the words were all in sort of old English with a smattering of Latin. I decided that it was easier to write it down in modern type language. Anyway all those "heretofore's" and s's that looked like f's made my head hurt.

Transformation Spell

To be used when in desperate need to hide from enemies.

This spell should only be used in extreme circumstances when danger warrants, as it will transform the caster into one of the opposite sex for between 6 and 12 hours. There may be unforeseen side effects and uses forces unseen to fulfil this wish.

There was the lengthy spell written below that, but I couldn't see any real problems with it. It seemed quite simple for even a wizard like me, and I glossed over the bit that said unforeseen side effects and all that nonsense.

It came to me in a flash, I could change into a girl witch for a bit and then I would be able to experience the powers that I had heretofore–I mean previously not been able to have. I wouldn't be able to change my sis into a toad, but at least I would get to be like her for a bit. All right, I was jealous of my sister and the fact that she was treated as something special and I was just poor little Daniel. To be honest, it made me feel a bit bitter. Mum and Dad loved me, and Dad in particular said I was his ‘little man', (I hated it when he said that), and Granny seemed to treat me as some sort of underprivileged child for not being a girl, but loved me in spite of that. It didn’t take away from me the fact that I wasn’t special and I couldn’t do what witches could do.

Sarah? Well the less said about her the better; they say you can choose your friends but not your relatives, and never were truer words spoken.

Once I had decided what to do I just had to do it.

So I got up out of my nice warm bed, took off my jim-jams, got everything together and headed down into the woods where I could fulfil my dream of power. Only it hadn’t worked out and that was that; after all my preparations, it had ended up a complete waste of time.

Coming back to the present, I stuck the book under my bed, as I couldn't bother to hide it away. I would take it back to the attic in the morning and get on with my life as a poor, underprivileged little wizard.

I sneezed.

‘Oh great, I'm going to catch a cold now, maybe flu or treble pneumonia or something.

Bracken stopped purring for a moment, opened one eye then the other. I swear that she winked at me and then went back to sleep.

I sneezed again and then the sneezing started off a headache. I shivered and then got up and went to the bathroom. Paracetamols were needed and there was a packet in the medicine cabinet.

All of a sudden I felt achy, and after sneezing several times more there was a noise behind me.

‘Daniel love, are you all right?'

‘I have a cod cubbing on,'


‘A cod.'


‘Dat's whad I said.' I sniffed.

She felt my forehead.

‘Mmm, you are rather hot. Go back to bed and I'll come see you in a minute.'

I got to the bed just in time as I was feeling giddy by then. Gratefully I sank back on my pillow and shut my eyes, not for long though, as I sneezed again and again, my body wracked with pain. This was mega flu, at least, and it came on all of a sudden.

I felt something cold on my forehead. ‘Open your mouth,' Mum told me.

I nearly swallowed the thermometer as I sneezed for the umpteenth time. A few moments later she took it out of my mouth and looked at it.

‘Gosh, 106 degrees.' I had better call I Dr Lazarus.'

‘’Not hib Bub! He doesn't like be.'

‘Yes he does, he's a sweetie.'

‘Do he isn't. Every tibe I see hib he finds an excuse to inject be or prod be, once he put his finger up by …'

‘Now don't be silly. You just lie there and I'll go call him and then get you some juice to drink.'

I shut my eyes again; I was feeling like death not even warmed up. I couldn't understand why the symptoms came on so fast, but after a few moments I could care less whether I lived or died.

I wondered vaguely if bubonic plague had returned …

After what could have been minutes or hours, I heard voices, my Mum, Dad, and the dreaded Dr Doom.

The covers were pulled off me and for some reason, Mum gasped.

‘Bloody hell,' said Dad and for once, Mum didn't correct him.

I wondered hazily what the problems was. Yes, I felt weird and my body was, to say the least, painful just about everywhere, but that was what happened when you had the flu, wasn't it? I had never had it before so I didn't have a reference point as to how I should feel.

The doctor was probing me, and his stethoscope felt cold on my chest.

Now Dr Doom–I mean Lazarus– was one of us, by that I mean a Wiccan, and he knew about all sorts of strange ailments that occur when spells are being thrown about.

He prodded me again, this time on my stomach and I groaned. I felt particularly tender down there. ‘This is a spell,' he said firmly.

‘Spell, spell; who did this to my baby?'

Mum’s wailing tone did nothing for my headache.

‘Daniel, Daniel, pay attention,' said Dad in a voice that seemed full of fear. ‘’What happened?'

‘I only wanted to feel the power.'.

‘’What, what are you saying?'

‘’I–I used a spell.'

‘What spell, son?'

‘In the book.'

My nose had stopped being stuffed up and at least they could understand me. But this was the flu, nothing to do with the spell I cast, surely.

‘What bloody book?' asked the doctor sharply.

I could hear mum crying for some reason.

‘Answer me, what book?'

I pointed to below the bed and groaned. My stomach, chest and groin were on fire and I just wanted the pain to go away.

Dad fished about under the bed and pulled out the spell book.

‘I haven't seen this in years. But there isn't anything in here that could cause …

The slip of paper fell out and landed on the bed.

Dad picked it up and looked at it, with the doctor looking over his shoulder. ‘I … I've never seen this before, it's a transformation spell, but it doesn't look right …'

Mum had stopped sobbing into her sopping hanky and took the paper. I scratched my chest, which now itched all over, and like everywhere else, was getting painful.

Was there anywhere on my body that didn't feel as if I was being tortured?

‘Take the pain away, please!' I gasped.

‘This is Dark Magic,' said Mum, ignoring me and talking in a somewhat hushed voice. ‘I can sense the evil in it. The paper has been charmed to attract the vulnerable innocents. He had no choice. This has messed with his mind. I need to call the coven and Mum.'

Oh no, not Granny! She could just kill someone with a look and had nearly done that the other day when a traffic warden dared to give her a ticket.

There was some hushed talking and then the doctor came over with what looked like a huge needle. He was going to stick me again, but do you know, I couldn't care less, I was in so much pain now, cutting off my head would have seemed like a bit of a laugh.

‘Just a little prick,' he said and I wondered if he meant me or the needle.

After the injection, the pain subsided and then blissfully I zonked out. A good thing that, I thought as I drifted off to Noddy Land. At least I won’t have to contend with Granny …


I woke up gradually. I could sense that it was daytime again. I could sense other things … I had no pain … But somehow, I felt different.

I was reluctant to open my eyes. If I did that, they would know that I was awake and then questions would be asked, awkward questions. Questions that had no answers that they would like to hear.

I realised now how stupid it was to cast that spell. Magic is dangerous in the wrong hands and my hands couldn't be wronger.

I was a wizard, a young male wizard, the lowest of the low, without any real powers. It was like giving poison to a baby–dangerous.

‘Open your eyes, you are awake.' My heart sort of flipped, it was Granny's voice and she didn't sound a happy bunny.

It was no good, I was going to have to face the medicine like a man, a little man, but nevertheless, it was a far, far better thing, etc.

I opened my eyes, pushed the hair off my face and the she was, in her awesome majesticness–Granny, head of the coven and local Wiccan bigwig.

I was tucked up in bed and only my head was showing, oh, and my arms. I felt strange, different but I couldn't put my finger on it …

She was sitting by the bed, knitting needles in her hands, and a huge ball of wool in her lap. I knew that trouble was in store because she only knitted when she was seriously peeved at something. My sister once ran over Granny's cat on her bike and Granny knitted two jumpers and a sock over that, Diana knows what she would produce after hearing me!

I made to lift up the sheets; I was feeling itchy in strange places.

‘Do not do that. Just tell me, in your own words what happened. Don't make me have to put a truth spell on you.'

‘Well Granny …'

I stopped, my voice sounded funny. All right it hadn't broken yet, but even so it sounded to me–erm, a little different.

I shrugged and as Granny coughed, I realised that patience was not her strong point.

‘Right, yes okay. Well, it was like this …'

I told her everything. There was no point in holding back. I swear that she could read minds and it was a serious mojo thingie if I ever thought that I could lie to her. If she had been a member of the Spanish inquisition, (nobody expects the Spanish inquisition), she could get a confession out of a rice pudding.

I was fantasising, I knew I was. My mind was running away with itself and I was close to having some sort of episode, but being a brave little soldier, (as my Dad used to call me–I hated that), I confessed and let it all out.

As I say, I told her everything. About how inadequate I felt and the fact that I was jealous of my sister and all the other stuff that I have already told you and have no intention of repeating ad nauseum, (see, I know Latin, ain't I clever?)

I finished my sorry story and waited to see if I was turned into stone, or worse, sent to an interview for a job at McDonalds. (All right I was too young, have you never heard of dramatic effect?)

She looked at me as I awaited thunderbolts, (or is that lightning bolts?), to come down and strike me dead, or worse.

Nothing happened and I still waited. This was torture. Why didn't she say something?

I thought that I should speak up. ‘Sorry, Granny.'

She finished knit one, pearl one. The sock that she was knitting looked long enough for a giraffe's leg. She looked up, sighed, put her knitting down and looked at me with one of her stares that could curdle fresh milk.

‘It's not your fault.'

‘It’s-what–I mean … pardon me?'

‘’You were under the influence.'


‘Don't repeat what I say,' she snapped.

‘Sorry, Granny.'

‘As I say, you were under the influence of a powerful Dark Spell which played upon your wishes and desires. You are a child who has not been happy for some time. I have no idea at the moment who the perpetrators of the spell were and why it was done, but I will find out. My feeling is that there is probably more than one Dark Witch involved in this and their purpose is to undermine the good work we do as Light Witches. You, I know have never been happy with the fact that witches have more power than wizards. I could see it in your face, and I was sad that I could not help you. Now however, things are different.'


You are repeating me again! ‘Yes, the spell you cast was not what you thought that it would be. You believed that you would somehow change into a girl and have the powers granted to girls and become a witch for a short time. But it did not happen …'

‘I know that, I was disappointed; I thought that I had cast the spell exactly as it was written and something went wrong. Then I caught a chill and it made me ill.'

She looked at me and strangely enough her face had a soft look and I could swear that her eyes glistened. ‘Lift the sheets up.'

Puzzled, I did as I was told.

For a moment, I thought it strange that I was no longer wearing my jim-jams. I was now in a long white cotton-nightdress?

My chest, It was erm, lumpy. Not big lumps, but definitely lumpy, in two places.

‘Cancer?’ I whimpered.

‘What? No, stupid child, you are female.’

I pushed the hair away from my eyes and that was strange as my hair was very short, or it had been; now it appeared to be long–very long and it covered my shoulders–I now knew how Rapunzel felt.

‘Oh, the spell did work and I'm girl for a bit.'


I had been about to explore a bit lower in my nether regions and then stopped at those words.

‘No? Look Granny, maybe you need new glasses, but from where I'm lying I can see girl's boobies …'

‘Breasts dear; boobies are a bit rude and demeaning.'

‘What? Right, yeah. Anyway, I seem to have erm, breasts and I can definitely feel a lack of something down below and then there is my hair, it’s long …'

‘.Yes, yes, yes, I know all of that, but what you thought was temporary, is in fact, permanent.'

‘Permanent, as in always and forever?'

‘Got it in one.'

‘Oh.' I said and then after moments. ‘Oh, you mean I’m not going to transmer … transmog … erm, change back into a boy again?’

Granny looked at me in pity and then explained the situation. ‘You thought that you were in control. You were not. Ideas were put into your head that amplified the fact that you were jealous of your sister. You felt a compulsion to go up into the attic, and there you just conveniently happened to find the book with the slip of paper that allowed you to do what you have always wanted to do, be more powerful and like your sister. Oh, we all knew that you were not happy, and sad that you do not have the power that witches have, but we thought that you would grow out of it and be the best man you could possibly be. Being a man is not bad. They have qualities that women do not have.'

‘Like what?'

‘Strength, loyalty, love, supportiveness, being calm in a crisis–the list goes on. Some men are creative; much of the art in the world was made by man. Inventive; many of the things that are around you at the moment were invented by men. That does not mean that women are none of these things, they are, and more, but we are talking about men here, and not women.'

‘So why do I want to be what I am not?'

‘Because you are an individual, and you have your own thought and feelings. Everyone is different. You wanted to be a witch for a short time and then go back to being Daniel, correct?'

I nodded.

‘Would you have been happy being Daniel again once you felt the power, real power of witchcraft?''

I thought for a moment and then shook my head slowly.

‘I thought not. It would have been like a drug to you. You have one fix and then you have to back for more and more until it would have taken you over. In a way, the spell has done you a favour. You do not have to keep casting the spell to get you where you want to be. This way it’s over now and you will not go through any further pain.

‘How could the spell do this to me, it seemed pretty okay to me?’

‘The spell that you cast was not a temporary one it was permanent. It was a spell within a spell, a bit like a computer virus attached to an email. This was very powerful magic, and we as a coven and our sister covens will deal with it. Dark forces are trying to come out of hiding, and I feel that they are ready to flex their muscles. It has to stop. It will be stopped!'

I didn't like the look on her face as she said this and I almost felt pity for those people who did this thing to me.

She smiled and the fierceness went away and she looked quite young for someone who was at least a hundred and forty years old.

‘Now we come back to you. I have no doubt that you wish to look at your body and, erm, explore your changes. This is natural and you should never feel ashamed of your body. In a moment I want you to get up and go and have a shower. After your illness, I fear that you do not smell as a young lady should, and it's not nice for girls to have an unpleasant odour. Once you have had your shower, come back in here and put on the clothes that will be put out for you.

After that you can come down for breakfast, and once you have eaten, there will be a family meeting. You will not be disturbed as you get ready, as I understand that you may wish to be alone with your thoughts. One thing you may wish to consider is what name you would like, as Daniel is no longer appropriate. I will leave you now.'

She kissed me on the forehead, stroked my cheek with one finger, then got up with her knitting and left the room.


I stared at the ceiling for a moment, then with a sigh, I got up and put on the robe that had been put on the bed for me and slipped on the mule type slippers.

I walked over to the door and opened it. I seemed to be walking funny. I felt more fluid if you like and my weight distribution was a bit different.

Walking across to the bathroom I let myself in and locked the door behind me.

There was a long mirror on the back of the door and I had my first look at my reflection.

I gasped! I looked like my sister!

I had long black hair going down my back. My face was almost the same as before, but softer, thinner, and my nose was a button one now and not the slightly longer one that I had previously. I seemed to have a profusion of freckles on my nose and cheeks too, not unpleasant but different. The long nightdress was rather shapeless, but I could see that under the material there were the small lumps that were now my breasts.

With shaking hands, I pulled off the nightdress and it fell to the ground. I was now seeing myself properly for the first time.


I seemed a bit more pear shaped than before and what fat I had before had been redistributed, especially around my hips and bum. My breasts were small and pert, sticking out like two soldiers, and not sagging.

My eyes went down and instead of my little Percy Penis, there was a small amount of fine hair and nestled inside was a sort of slit or fold. I wanted to touch it, but I didn't. That probably wasn't allowed until I was 18.

Distractedly, I tore my eyes away.

I had an urgent need to go to the toilet. I went over, lifted the lid and stood there.

Somehow, I let go and the wee started going down my legs.

‘’Yuuuuck!' I shouted as I realised that peeing standing up was now not an option.

I quickly turned around and sat down.

As I continued my toilet, I got a bit weepy as I realised that I would no longer be able to write my name in the snow using Percy as a hose pipe …

Then other thoughts drifted in. I would never be my dad's ‘’little man'. I would be different. Everyone would laugh at me. The clothes I didn't mind. Clothes are clothes, and that was that, but it was other things. School! I would be laughed at, ridiculed, called nasty names or even beaten up. Anyone different was always a target at my school. Sarah didn't have that problem, she went to St Olav's and they were all seriously strange there. Witches, werewolves, Dracula types, not forgetting those things that go bump in the night, they were all there …

I finished my wee and then cleaned up down below, my eyes crossing slightly as the tissue touched the–my–private parts.

I pulled my hand away as if I had seriously scalded it. I just didn’t want to think about what I had just experienced, so I rapidly thought about other things to take my mind off erm, it.

What about witch type powers, supposing I didn't have any?

I could be just a plain and simple girl. It did happen even in the most witchly of families.

I waived my index finger and it lit up immediately. Well at least I could do that. I closed my eyes and thought about rising up and went ow!' as my head hit the ceiling. Now that was interesting, I went up further than before. When I was in boy mode, it had been a struggle to get a metre off the ground. Other boys said that they could reach six feet, I think but they were boasting.

I used a towel to clean up the mess and then hopped into the shower. I had been yucky in the pong department before, and now, after my little accident, I was past yucky and into gross territory.

I switched the on the shower and sighed as the warm water streamed over my body It was beyond weird when I used the shower gel, especially on my breasts and erm, down below, but I didn't linger in those intimate areas as it seemed a bit pervy to me.

I washed my hair and remembered to use the conditioner like a good little boy … I mean, girl. This boy/ girl thing was getting to me. I was a girl now, but in my head I was still a boy. I wondered why this spell didn't change my mind as well as my body.

After rinsing my hair–it was so long it took an age–I switched off the shower and dried myself off as quickly as I could. I was still uncomfortable touching my body, and I imagined the Perv squad from the police department knocking the door down and taking me away for questioning …

‘Right, why were you touching your body in that provocative manner?'

‘So you say that you are a girl now with a boy's mind? That is no excuse for touching yourself like that. Anything you may say will be taken down and used as evidence against you. Inasmuch as on the 17th inst you used unnatural forces and obtained by illegal means, the body of a girl. The stealing of and /or transfer of one soul to another is an offense …’

‘You don't understand, officer!'

‘Tell it to the judge.'

I shivered as my mind came back from the brink. I never had time for shrinks, but maybe I needed one now.

‘Zo Ms Myers, you think zat you are a boy, yet you haf da body of a girl. Did you vet the bed ven you ver young and ven did you have you dummy taken avay?'

I shivered again. My mind was a mess and I had to stop such weird thoughts.


It took forever and a day to dry my hair, and my arms ached from the effort, but eventually I finished. So I put the stinky nightdress in the hamper, put on the robe and slippers and walked back into my bedroom.

On the bed was a blue denim skirt and white peasant type blouse, together with what looked like seriously skimpy pink panties and matching bra.

I shuddered at the thought of putting them on and wondered if I might get away with putting on my own jeans and t shirt. Then I realised that my shape wasn't the same as before and my clothes probably wouldn't fit now.

Sighing, I went over and picked up the bra as if it was a poisonous snake. This was not good. I tried to work out where everything went and wondered why there wasn't any sort of user manual. Eventually I did a sort of reverse thingie, doing up the hook wotsit’s at the front and then turning the contraption around and slipping my arms in.

My little breasts seemed to sigh with pleasure as they nestled in their new home, and I realised why women have bras.

I slipped on the panties, which were the same smooth material as the bra and it looked seriously weird that I didn't have any meat and two veg showing down below …

I had to stop these boy type comments about my body. I was now a sensitive flower, a picture of girlhood. No more would I be able to play with myself down below when I thought no one was looking. I wouldn't even be able to pick my nose or fart, not that I did any of those things, of course!

I pulled up the skirt and then put on the blouse.

My hair got tangled up a bit under the blouse and I pulled it out. Then, looking at the mirror I could see that my hair needed a serious brushing. Picking up my brush I went to it with a will and after a few minutes my hair was untangled and going down to the middle of my back. It was long and very straight and felt strangely heavy on my head.

There were some sandals by the bed and I put them on. Then I was ready to go downstairs.

I sat on the bed.

I was feeling a bit wimpy. Would they laugh at me? They would probably think that I was beyond stupid for what I had done.

I sighed. I would have to get it over with.

I took one more look in the mirror. Was I prettier than Sarah? Now that would get up her nose. Maybe there was something good to come out of this mess!

To Be Continued...


My thanks go to the lovely and talented Holly Hart for editing, and pulling the story into shape.


Please leave comments and kudo thingies...thanks! ~Sue

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