Water in the Sky: a TG Mixed Tape
Table of Contents
“Procedures” by Desert Willow
“Remade” by Morrigan Q.R.
“Raposa” by MrSimple
“Workaround” by Trismegistus Shandy
“Retirement” by Dark Sun Morrigan
“Ashmedai” by Paradox
“Do You Turn Into Your Avatar?” by Desert Willow
“Afterword” by Trismegistus Shandy
Procedures
Morning. Like any other she awoke in the same wrong body she'd known for over thirty revolutions. Most days it was the same route to work, with the same construction area working on the one rock protrusion just off to the side of the train station. For twelve revolutions, it was the same job fixing the errors made on everyone else's paperwork, hearing the same stories from sometimes different people, and then being asked about her own story once a month.
Every two weeks, Nar'alma added to this routine rather than taking one of her full days off. She sat in front of her second therapist. It was the same story most sessions, only now it had been nine revolutions since she'd lived in clothing more typical among women, since she began using their pronouns, and since she'd waited for someone to sign away the second recommendation that she needed.
Once, revolutions ago, she'd thought the second signature was coming. Then the therapist's office caught fire, and the therapist went missing. It wasn't until last month that his remains were found on another planet, his captor one of the cultists that plagued the Hoshi-Lacartan Alliance.
Today, this therapist looked Nar'alma in the eye, and said it was past time to get this procedure moving.
Seeing the full document recommending treatment, signed by both required therapists, brought a tear to her eye. How long had Nar'alma waited, truly?
Morning came like any other. She found three good laeknir, medical professionals, who offered the treatment she had long sought. She picked one at random and set up an appointment.
The manly reflection in the mirror stared back at her. The harsh reality tried to taunt her, but there was a way to fight back. Fear, sadness, and anger shaped the body she saw. Nar'alma put on her clothes and hopped on the train when the time came.
A laeknar sat across the table from her and read the document. This one was a doctor. He taught medical procedures to other laeknir. This raised questions, concerns, for Nar'alma.
“Will I be another lesson for them?” she asked.
“Would you consent to such a thing?” the doctor said.
“I-I'm not so sure. I want this procedure; I need it. I don't know how I would feel about being studied for your work.”
“That is fine. You needn't worry about a thing like that. Now, I have read documentation recommending your treatment, but I have questions for you.”
“OK.”
“Have you ever received this procedure, or been otherwise treated with Synthonectar in the past?”
“No, I haven't.”
“Do you fully understand the risks involved?”
“I believe so. There is a chance of catastrophic failure, right?”
“For a first-timer, the dose needed will be minimal, but it will stick inside your system for a lifetime. As of now, we do not have a means to remove the residue safely, but it will be a part of your bodily fluids and cells. Should your body reject it, I am afraid there will be nothing that we can do but to keep you under anesthesia. You would not wake. However, for those undergoing this procedure for the first time, the risk is only two percent. That is why we require utmost honesty and to be sure you wish to go through with this procedure. There may not be a turning back.”
Nar'alma trembled. Her veins felt hot and drained. Then she said, “Let's do it. I understand the risks, and I accept.”
Morning came a week later. How did it feel any different from before? Nar'alma had her normal breakfast and put on her normal weekend clothes. Work knew not to expect her for the next two weeks if all was well.
She considered making a joke to them that she would call from the grave if it did not go well. Somehow, she did not think anyone there would have appreciated her morbid humor.
The train to the medical facility was mostly empty except for Nar'alma and her father. He came to provide support after so many revolutions of waiting for this chance to come. Perhaps he expected Nar'alma to get cold feet at the last minute, but she was ready. She had to be.
A younger laeknar led her into the operating room, but not before she hugged her father one last time. Another laeknar was completing the setup of devices and tools when Nar'alma walked into the room. It was strangely comforting to see that, as advanced as they were, nothing was taken for granted, but a chill also ran down her back as well.
Nar'alma felt every pinch of needles. She hated those; who in their right mind didn't? She stared into the ceiling and counted backwards.
Two percent failure -- she would have preferred it to another day in the wrong body. Decades she'd lived, decades she'd fought, and decades she could no longer feel as Nar'alma flew into darkness.
Sometimes it was flying, and sometimes it was swimming. It was darkness and light at once. She could breathe, but she also needed air. She swam upwards until the light and air were hers at last.
Morning didn't feel right where she was. It was a new room. It was a new bed. The sky outside the window was still dark, and thus so was the room.
She sat up and felt different. All of her body mass was in places alien to her, except for her bones . . . and her heart. Nar'alma could feel the sensitive flesh on her chest as her hand pressed against her heart.
Oh, cold, infinite beyond, this was really happening. She didn't know how to handle this, but it was finally true. Why did it take so long to happen?
A tear rolled down her cheek. The procedure was a success. Nar'alma now just needed time to recover, and time again to learn how to walk with a new body.
For a week, that was what she concentrated on. Her family and friends came to visit over time. Her little sister took her measurements for her and brought a change of clothes that fit the new body -- her new body. It was no longer alien or wrong to her.
Mourning. It was like nothing else. Nar'alma laid her old self to rest and gave away her old clothes that no longer fit. No, it was more than that. Some clothes just weren't right any longer. Her tastes shifted month after month until, one day, she looked back and saw how different everything was.
And it was better. It was her.
She was sitting in the cafeteria at work one day when a young Ginserei gentleman approached her table.
“Hello,” he said, “mind if I join you?”
Mornings were never the same again, especially after she woke up to an engagement band on her finger. An Aelf like her and a Ginserei like her husband-to-be? No, the changes were coming fast, and she now had new stories to tell.
“Would you do it again if you could?” someone asked.
Nar'alma said, “I spent many revolutions doing the same thing over and over again. Those revolutions are behind me. Now, the only routine or procedure I have to worry about is living one brand new day after another. I think I'll keep it that way.”
“To tomorrow then.”
“Yes, to tomorrow.”
Desert Willow is the madwoman behind the Dallevan Trilogy from the Paragon Verse, as well as a few other stories found on TGStorytime, and the author behind Elysium Shining, now available as an eBook. She is often writing, but not always as productive with it as she would like to be. She loves her hot cocoa and waffles, and will not turn them down.
Remade
“Why are we here again?” I asked, panting, trying to catch my breath. Carrying shit for adventurers is tough, especially when they ask you to cart back whole corpses so they can dismantle them later.
“We're looking for the chamber, remember Ted? The one Gilliana told us about when we sold her our loot from last week?” replied Henry. Gilliana was our contact and informant about the labyrinth. We went to her with anything we needed, from requests for specific gear, to where to buy the best maps, to selling our equipment. Everyone in any of the adventurer guilds had one, but Gilliana was ours, and she was the best, by far.
“Oh, right, the one with the weird light. Sorry, it's just, I think these fumes are getting to me.” The aforementioned fumes were being blasted into the air any time our feet fell a little too hard and the vibrations disturbed the fungi growing around this tunnel. We had masks that we'd bought specifically to deal with this floor of the labyrinth, but when one of the carrion beetles had tried to start eating our haul, I'd tried to punch the thing, and in retaliation it had swiped me with its mandible and left me with a nasty gash under my eyes and across my nose. It had also royally fucked up my mask, tearing it to shreds.
“They are a narcotic after all, Ted. Be careful you don't get too high. You know how this stuff makes people sleepy, and then the beetles eat 'em.” I did. I did know, and Henry reminding me scared me out of the tiredness I was beginning to feel.
We walked for another hour, and we were about to leave the section where the fungus was growing. According to our map, the spot that gilliana's other group of adventurers had mentioned was just ahead. As we were coming up to it, Henry shouted back to me.
“Look! There's the orange light!” He, being the foolhardy fighter between the two of us, sprinted up to get a better look at it. As his heavy steel toed boots slammed into the dirt, more of the spores shot into my face. Fucking hell, Henry! I followed, pulling the cart along at a steady pace to catch up. If I breathed in any more of these spores, Henry might have to throw me on the cart and wheel me out with the corpses. Sleeping in a pile of bodies wasn't anyone's dream job, but it's the life I had.
As I caught up, something was wrong. There was a new hole in the wall, the type that appears when the labyrinth evolves. The edges were too perfect, the tunnel too cylindrical to be natural. A glowing orange crystal cast the tell tale glow we had followed to find the entrance to this new tunnel. I left the cart there, but not before wrapping some of the thick quilted tarp I carried over the corpses. No use in leaving them for the beetles, I decided.
The tunnel was too low-ceilinged to stand comfortably, so I had to hunch. I tried to move quickly to catch up to Henry. He had a propensity for getting into trouble and needing my help, normally after he'd killed whatever beastie he was dealing with first, but there were times we had to make a quick escape, too. We were on cart number three this year already.
The tunnel was pitch black after just a hundred feet or so, the orange light emanating from the crystal on the threshold of the tunnel not strong enough to illuminate the entire length. Up ahead, there was another light, though, an exit it seemed. I sped up, trying to reach the other side quicker. The dark had always scared me, and I had some claustrophobia as well.
I was running to the end of the tunnel, and suddenly my foot didn't hit anything but my chin did, and I felt my teeth cut into my tongue and something cracked and I was falling, bouncing off of hard walls back and forth as I dropped like a stone. Then a splash, and a salty iron-like taste hit my tongue and I couldn't breathe. Then I inhaled the liquid in a panic, and I could breathe again, in this goo around me. I tried to swim to the surface, but I was dizzy and it was dark and up seemed to be all around me. My knuckles scraped against the perfectly smooth stone and tore open.
The goo seemed to be hardening around my arms and legs and head, especially around my fingers and toes. It was encasing me, and my drug-addled and adrenaline-enhanced mind realized it was from my movements. Every time I moved it got harder. I stopped moving, and I felt myself sinking, and then I realized how tired I was and how out of breath I felt. I felt my consciousness fading, and all I could focus on was how comfortably warm the ooze was.
I felt vibrations run along my skin. They came in short but powerful waves. It was my heartbeat. I dreamed that I was awake and living out a life, but not mine. My life started with parents who had trouble understanding what I wanted, but in this life, it was never an issue. In my life, I felt uncomfortable. I felt unwelcome. I felt like a useless piece of garbage. There was an infinite number of supporters to help the slayers out there. There was no glory for us though. We were just the laborers. They were the adventurers. That's why I felt this disgust with myself, right? In my first life at least, I did. My body was solid and hard and weathered, but I always hated it. It felt like... like it wasn't enough. I knew I didn't like it, but for some reason not liking it just made me want to get stronger, and with that new stronger body I'd feel even worse.
In this dream, this other life I was looking into, I was different. I was born in the same place, to the same parents, but instead of a son I was a daughter. I was happy. I still liked to explore, and I still dreamed of being an adventurer, but instead of feeling my emotions lock themselves away behind a barrier when I started to grow hair on my chin and chest, I felt happy and relieved when I started to grow breasts and hips that would help me give birth. It felt... right.
Eventually, as all dreams do, this would have to end, and as I realized that I began to cry. My parents asked me what was wrong, but I couldn't hear them. I was starting to wake up. I scared myself enough to wake up, enough to push me out of the dream, and now it was scared and running away from me. I tried to grasp at it, but it was like an eel. It was slimy. It slipped from my fingers, and I felt the loss hit me in my soul.
As I awoke I heard words. “Is she awake? What was she doing in there? Should we even be getting her out of this?”
“Of course we should! She's trapped in there, Henry!” That name woke me up, fully and truly.
“Henry?” I said, or at least tried to say. A torrent of the goop I had been plunged into poured from my mouth and onto my chest and neck and chin. Oops. I tried again, and this time the name left my lips with accuracy.
“Henry, is that you?” I tried to open my eyes, but everything felt too bright, so I closed them again.
“Henry, do you know her? She said your name.” She, she, she. Why were they taunting me like that? That was just a... was that just a dream? It felt like a dream. Did something happen in real life too?
“I've never seen her before in my life.” said the man. He sounded just like the Henry I knew; he had to be the same one.
“Are you sure?” asked the woman who Henry was conversing with -- about me, it seemed. I tried to sit up and felt the ooze pool into my lap. I tried opening my eyes again, and it still seemed bright, but it was manageable. I looked up at my saviors and saw a tall man, with a thick brown beard and verdant green eyes. His features were sharp and angular, just as Henry's had been when I fell. His face though, upon closer scrutiny, was thinner, gaunter. The same as Henry's had been years ago, back when we'd first started adventuring together and before he'd gained some healthy weight.
The woman was tall, muscular, and dark-skinned. She was wearing heavy armor and carrying a large halberd in her left hand. Her voice was sweet and melodious, and higher-pitched than one might expect from an amazon like her. I stood up, and as my feet crunched the crystallized goo and then left their pockets, the entire crystalline structure sublimated into a yellow sulphurous smoke and dissipated, leaving me dry and unencumbered.
I stood up, and looked down at myself. I was a girl! I was a girl. I had large round breasts, which hung into a bell-like shape. My hips were wide. My body hair was entirely gone. Scales, bright orange and pearlescent, encompassed the entirety of my neck. I ran my fingers over them, and felt that my adam's apple was gone. I continued my exploratory touches, and found that the scales extended down my back as well. They seemed to completely cover my back, or at least every bit of my back that I could reach. I looked down and noticed something different, well beyond my manhood being replaced with something much more visually appealing, at least to my tastes. My pubic hair had been replaced with a patch of these same scales, just slightly darker and less reflective. I felt something shift on my back, and I tried to turn around to see what touched me. I heard a whap! and tried to turn back around. Henry was standing there holding his hand against his head and laughing.
“What is it, Henry?” I asked. My voice was smokey and deep, but feminine. Undeniably feminine. I felt my lips curl into a toothy grin and heard the rustle of armor and a gasp from the amazon as she took a step back and covered her mouth with her free hand.
“Is something wrong?” I repeated. Henry just laughed and then shook his head, trying to stop laughing long enough to catch his breath. The woman, though, had no qualms with telling me.
“You're a dragoness! You hit Henry with your wings and tail and scales and oh my god, you're so cute! I'd always heard from the stories that dragons were big and scary, and dragon demihumans are one of the rarest type.” I smiled up at her.
“What?” I asked. I was excited, and happy to be in a body I could be comfortable in, but this was news to me. “I am? Are you sure? I was a human before I fell asleep, as Henry here will tell you. I've met a couple demihumans though, mostly minotaurs in the fire district when we'd go over to the forges there and pick up new implements.” That got Henry to shut up.
“Wait, what? I've legitimately never seen you before in my life, ma'am.” The 'ma'am' made my heart flutter. Why was this so much better than being a man? Why did this feel so natural and right?
“Wait, how old are you, miss?” asked Henry. The amazon hit him on the back of his head with a gauntleted hand. “Ow! Fuck you Gilliana.”
“Wait, Henry and Gilliana are names of people I know. Henry, you look just like my Henry, who I adventure with, but the Gilliana I know is our informant.” The two of them stopped smiling and looked at each other.
“Oh shit. Uhm, what year is it?” Henry asked. I was flabbergasted. I mean, everyone knows what year it is.
“It's 935,” I said tentatively. This isn't gonna be like those old stories my grandma used to tell me where someone falls asleep for a hundred years, is it?
“Well, that answers that question, I guess. It's 984, by the way. Think she's Ted? She doesn't look like a Ted,” said Henry. Gilliana nodded.
“I am Ted! That's my name! I'm uh, probably gonna change it now, you're right that it doesn't seem to suit me like this. Also, fuck. Wait, do you know my Henry and Gilliana?” At least it's not a hundred years, just about half that, I thought to myself.
“Henry and Gilliana are our grandparents. They got married after you disappeared in the labyrinth. Your disappearance scared the shit out of grandpa, and he retired and became a map-maker and informant like grandma. We never thought we'd find you in this new tunnel, Ted. Our informant told us of a new tunnel that seemed to have opened up in the labyrinth, and we went to check it out. Our grandparents told us to be careful, because it was in the same area where you went missing. Then we found you encased in that crystal, and we thought you might need help so we cracked you out using some knives and hammers we had. Holy shit, though, this is crazy.” I just nodded in agreement.
“Well, what now?” I asked. Henry looked through some bags on the cart he was driving. I assumed it was magic, based on the humming coming from the red box on the front and the lack of horses on the carriage thing he was on. Henry threw some clothes at me, a simple white shirt of good quality and a pair of shorts made from a thick black material that Gilliana informed me was called 'denim.'
“Well, I think I need to talk with your grandparents. And figure out what the fuck happened to me. And, uh, buy some new clothes, I think?” Henry laughed and nodded, and Gilliana clapped me on the back, nearly shoving me over in the process.
“Alright!” I said, rubbing my hands together (and narrowly avoiding cutting my skin with my new claws). “Let's get going then!”
Morrigan Q.R. is literally just a random girl from the middle of nowhere in Ohio. She doesn't even know what she is beyond that.
Raposa
On a farm somewhere...
I zipped to the left --
-BANG-
-- immediately I skidded to a stop and dashed to the right!
-POW-
A miraculous jump away from the explosion of earth, and I was going left again! I was nearly across the field, to the hedges, and I'd be safe from the farmer.
All I had wanted to do was nibble on some eggs. Maybe take a few back and see if a lucky lady could snatch an egg from me. That would be a nice turn around, since they are always playing hard to get with me.
On that thought, those chickens wouldn't have minded anyways! They were infertile eggs! Those succulent white and rounded duds were just sitting there being pretty. So what was that farmer's problem if the hens had no issue?
He shouldn't either! Greedy, buck-toothed, no chin, rat hoarder!
Over my red furry shoulder, I chittered a yip at him. That man was luckily too busy reloading his shotgun to take advantage of my pause to laugh at him. Without pushing my luck further, I turned and darted directly inside of the hedge of bushes.
I shuddered as the prickly holly leaves ran over my soft fur, but I endured the scratches. For my sake, I'd have to tunnel through the prickly greenery to safely escape. If I were to bolt out the other side, he'd take a shot at me in the clear potato field.
A quick duck under the branches here --
-- a step over an overgrown root there --
-- moment to get my bushy red and white-tipped tail untangled... with a little 'grr.' And I was off to a better getaway than how I'd started in the henhouse. Excellent!
In fact, I began to prance through the bushes. A jittery laugh of excitement bubbled out of me between panting.
“What's so funny?” My muzzle turned straight down as I leaped over a mole. A talking mole?
I halted and whirled around to inspect the delicious looking snack. With a sniff, I detected nothing of the sort, as if the mole wasn't really there. Maybe I was hallucinating from hunger?
“Are you sniffing me?” I blinked as that cute little thing asked me that confusing question. Then I remembered how poor a mole's eyesight was. “If I were you, I wouldn't stop and contemplate if I'm safe to eat or not.” The tiny bundle of brown hair poked me on the nose with a diminutive clawed finger. “I'm not.”
As if to emphasize how unsafe it was to eat the mole, I heard the thunderous footsteps of the farmer walking along the hedges.
But my thin tummy growled...
Without a second thought, I scarfed the mole up into my mouth and spun back around to run for the hills!
“Gee whiz, you really ate me?” Right after the mole said that, I swallowed and licked my chops.
To have eaten something was a good boost to my morale for today. But it didn't feel so good in my tummy. The mole wasn't going to just roll over and take it.
Running while that tiny thing was skittering around in me was the worst possible feeling I've ever felt. My face screwed up into a worriedly funny expression until I had to stop and be sick.
“Ewwww! I'm soaked!” Right under my nose, that mole stood up on its tiny legs and glared up at me. “That was disgusting!”
“Yuck!” I lashed my tongue out a few times to get the sour bile from my stomach out of my mouth. “Yick!”
The light of the Autumn morning shone down on me for one split second --
-- a loud noise deafened me --
-- a force and mind numbing pain slammed into me an instant after --
-- and I had one more second to realize I was sprawled out in the potato field before a cold darkness enveloped my vision.
But then I could see again?
Slowly, I got up and looked around. I tilted my head to the side and turned my long black ears left and right to test my hearing. Whatever the noise was that had deafened me, I was fine now.
“I warned you!” The squeaky voice of the mole had me flatten my ears. That was louder and higher pitched than the deafening noise! “I told you it was unsafe to eat me! But did you listen?! NO!”
My attention trained on where the mole was supposed to be --
-- but instead an old lady crawled out from under the hedges? I backed immediately away --
-- and noticed a fox laid out in front of me. There was a nasty open wound across his flank. How did I miss him?
Seeing how freshly he'd been killed, I should've been able to pick up the scent of his blood. I was confused until the old lady crawled closer toward me.
“Stay put or you're going to fly off!” Despite how she spoke with the same voice as the mole, there was something else very odd about that old woman. For some reason, she continued to crawl rather than walk like a human?
When I shifted my focus down to her hands and knees, I saw the mole. They were moving together. As I watched and thought of the two, I scratched out my confusion and replaced it with crazy. A theory popped in my head: the mole was the old lady!
“Now see what you've done?” She nodded down at the dead fox. “Got yourself killed.”
...What? I stared at the mole-lady in utter disbelief.
She sighed in frustration. “If you hadn't gobbled me up... oh, you! YOU!”
Her wrinkly old lady face was all I could see as she instantly closed in on me.
She was huge!
As I shrunk down in fear, she said, “The only reason you are still here is because you swallowed a bit of my spirit.” Then she looked around herself, as if she was in search of something. It seemed, at last, she found it, and shrugged her shoulder to show the tiny scratch along her old skin. “See?”
Without the courage to challenge her, I frantically nodded my agreement.
She shook her head. “The last one to take a piece of me was this damn little mole.” Her hand smacked down on the ground, just like the mole did with an itty-bitty little clawed paw in mimicry of the lady. “And this nosy fool, oh, just because I've been forgotten by you all -- although it has been a really, really long time since I passed. That doesn't give this blind little bugger permission to dig in my dusty remains or excuse you for eating me!”
My ears perked up and I nearly jumped when I felt something pull me toward the old lady. I searched around the ground to see what was yanking on my paws, but saw nothing. Then I was tugged closer.
“Oh dear.” My attention drifted back up to the wrinkly old face of the lady. “Don't worry, I'm sure there will be someone around, but when you come to, get moving.” A more powerful tug later and I spun around to run from the pulling. “Oh, and don't run from anyone. Sweetie, trust me, you're hurt. They can help you.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but I tried with all my might to race away from the invisible force pulling me. I began to cackle up at the lady for help, but she only watched.
A wave of the utmost worst pain in the world crashed against and washed over me. I cried out as I pumped my four legs with a boost of strength from the terror I felt.
“Sweetie, I'm so sorry. I really wish there was time to explain.” I looked over my red shoulder and saw the mole-lady backed away from me. She nodded down. “Remember, don't run from people. They can help.”
She nodded down once more and I followed her gaze --
-- to a child. There was a human kid laid down on their side where the dead fox used to be. And there was a nasty wound along the young one's side. Peppered with tiny little holes, but I saw movement from the body.
“Oh, I forgot how adorable I was at that age.” My eyes pinged off of the mole-lady, then ponged back onto the youngster.
As I was drawn closer, the child's chest raised before a heavy breath escaped --
-- and I breathed in again, as much as I could, before I screamed!
I curled up into a ball as the fiery pain in my side became my entire world. Kicking madly, even though I knew I was lying on the ground, I tried to keep running. When I breathed in again --
-- I screamed out in agony. Each breath I took brought back an inferno along my side.
“Who is that out there!? Hey! What are --” My eyes flew open when I heard someone yell.
From across the potato field, in the distance on the edge of the farm, coming out of the front door was a slightly younger lady than the mole-lady. If I recalled correctly, she was the potato farmer's wife. She'd never shown me any hostility, but I did remember her shooing me away once.
But now, she was running down her porch steps faster than I had ever seen any person run. And she was heading straight for me!
I tried to get up onto all fours, but I only managed to struggle onto my stomach. In desperation, I tried to crawl across the dirt toward the wall of holly bushes.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my -- hold on.” The sound of her voice had told me she was very close. “Peter! PETER!” She was screaming her head off.
At that screeching volume, his name would cut clear across the open field --
-- and I heard hollers from more than just one farmer.
In a frenzy, I tried to crawl away and reach the hedge. I wanted to hide, but every move I made hurt so much. I reached out a hand for the nearest bush --
-- and caught sight of the tiny mole looking up at me. She'd told me not run away.
My hand lingered in the air while I decided if I should trust a mole I had recently tried to eat. But then I belatedly realized something: I had a hand!
Not a paw, but a small human hand. I dropped my hand and laid very still.
A crowd of voices were over me before I felt something wrap me up --
-- and I screamed once more as I was lifted in the air. Someone cradled me, and that person was on the move. I bounced in their arms as they ran across the field to one of those huge and long trucks.
My sight dimmed for a split second, but I saw the farmer's wife open the back door to the truck before she got in. She turned to face us, both hands hurriedly waving at herself, and I knew whoever held me was passing me off to her.
Before the back door to the truck was slammed shut, I was laid across the seat and her lap. The moment I saw the potato farmer, Peter, get into the front to bring the truck roaring to life --
-- I passed out.
On a road somewhere...
A painful jump woke me. It felt like something had violently slipped and passed beneath me.
“Damn potholes.” Peter's voice. I blinked and turned to face the back of the front seat.
“Peter, she's awake.” My eyes drifted up to see the farmer's wife. “Shh, it's okay. We'll be there soon.”
“Meg? Has she said anything to you?” The farmer spoke, but the lady, I supposed her name was Meg, kept her green eyes trained down on me.
At once, I chittered my teeth together with a painful breath. I could feel her hands adjust more cautiously across my side before she pressed more firmly down on the wounds.
The whole truck jerked to a stop. Peter killed the engine and hopped out of the vehicle before the back door was swung open.
His hands carefully tucked themselves beneath me. Meg lifted me up, and Peter pulled me out into his arms.
I hadn't realized it before, but I saw someone else hop out of the bed in back of the truck. All of them were rushing me across some lot full of vehicles. Then into a tall standing building with pristine white walls.
“On the gurney.” Once I heard the new voice, calm and collected, I felt a new pair of hands exchange me to them. I was laid down on a soft and cushy slab that rocked a little.
Another, deeper, voice said, “I'll need you to sign --”
“-- please, this way.” And another voice with a smooth baritone. Losing count of everyone talking, I soon realized there were a lot more people inside of here.
Something pricked my arm, but I didn't flinch from it since I was already in so much pain.
There was some kind of clear and squishy bag hung up on a pole next to me. Then my arm felt cold... or rather, it felt like something cool was running through my arm. And gradually, I felt the chill throughout my body.
“Sweetie...” My focus centered on a woman in a strange blue uniform. “Don't be scared. I'm going to put this on.” She showed me a small clear, and warped, bowl. There was a string attached to it.
The blue lady gently lifted my head up and slipped the bowl to mask my face. An attachment, a tube, was clicked onto the bowl --
-- and I suddenly breathed in something funny. More than that, I felt the bedding beneath me soften, like clouds... and felt really fuzzy inside... and sleepy...
On a hospital bed somewhere...
I felt really groggy.
When I shifted, it felt like there was something sticking to my side. With my hand, I felt down along the side of my waist and hip. Crinkling noises came from what I touched. There was a large slick pad under a soft fabric of some kind, but I could guess the pad had adhered to me.
As I shifted a little more, I realized the bedding I was on had become much more comfortable. There was even a blanket of warmth over me.
...There was a blanket on me!
My eyes popped open and I scanned my surroundings. White and pristine, just like the building had been, but there were a number of colorful representations of animals painted across the walls and ceiling. Closer to me, a stand with blinking lights and a screen had long cords running from it --
-- and under my blanket? I took a peek under the sheets and saw that I had clothes on? But those cords disappeared into the gown I wore. With a hooked finger, I pulled up on my 'V' cut collar and saw flat, rounded, sticky things attached to me. A couple on my chest, and another pair on my shoulders. I gave a little tug on the cords coming from these cups, but they had an unexpected resistance when I tried peeling them off and the screen next to me made a strange noise when I did disturb them. Sticking them back on my chest calmed the screen back down.
But I counted five cords. Four that snaked under the blanket and my gown to those noisy stickers, and a clear one that disappeared under my nose... I wiggled my little nose and felt something stuffy. One sniff, and I discovered the cord forked to plug my snoz up. But I could breathe easy with it, so I left that cord alone too.
Then my attention drifted past my wrist. There was something stuck under my forearm. A longer cord, clear, and giving me the chills when I moved my arm. I wanted to take off, but when I touched it --
-- I realized that thing was in me. I'd been stabbed!
Just as I was about to yank the needle out --
“Good morning.” I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the calm and collected voice. “I'm Doctor Porter.”
There was a dark skinned man, which made him stand out in his full white uniform. He pleasantly smiled at me and approached the side of my bed where the stand holding that screen was.
“I think you could use some more rest, but there is someone who would like to ask you a few questions about what happened.” He looked down at me and asked: “You're in no trouble. She's a nice police officer here to find out how you were hurt.”
“Ah,” I said in a clipped tiny voice.
He leaned down and forward, held his open hand up for me to see he was unthreatening, and gently laid his palm on my forehead. His thumb dragged up one eyelid, then the other as he peered into my eyes one after the other.
His stunned expression was stuck. He looked at my eyes again before he stood straight back up.
“Your pupils...” Not saying any more, he just shook his head and walked to the door. Once he opened it, he called: “Officer Graham, I may have to ask you to wait --”
“Is she awake?” A dark uniformed woman opened the door fully and stood up taller than Doctor Porter. She glanced my way, back at the doctor, then did a double-take at me. After she warmly smiled at me, she said, “A couple of questions and I'll leave you be.” Before the doctor could do or say anything, she stepped past him while she asked: “She's okay to speak with me now, correct?”
Porter looked a little flustered, but settled when he looked my way. “Ah, yes, officer --”
“Good.” She looked over me and said, “I'm glad to hear that you are doing better.”
“Ah, ah-hah,” was my excitedly quick and jittery clipped response.
There was a small, restrained, laugh from her before she asked: “My name is Natalie Graham. May I know your name?”
My gaze went from her, to the doctor, and back to her again when I wasn't sure how to respond. I took a moment to contemplate how to respond. Maybe too long...
“Do you have a name?” As she asked me in a softer voice, she leaned a little to her side to look at me curiously. I looked at her --
-- then past her at one of the animals painted on the wall. A red fox.
I pointed at it.
Slowly at first, she turned with her eyes glued to me until she faced the wall. Looking back at me, she asked: “Fox? Your name is Fox?” I shook my head, but I pointed at the fox again.
I wanted her to understand... but how could I make her, or anyone, when I didn't even understand what happened? I was a fox. A male one, at that. But I'd heard enough people refer to me as 'she' to know that I'd transformed in more than one way.
The only one who knew what happened was that mole-lady. But I tried to do what I could and make these people understand what little I did know. I was a fox!
“Officer Graham?” Natalie looked away from me to see what the doctor had called her attention for. “She might be telling you what happened. I heard from the family that brought her in --”
“I'm aware.” I looked between the two talking to each other until she said, “The farmer next door said he shot a fox.”
“Ah! Ahahah!” I excitedly yelled and pointed at the surprised officer. For a split second, her expression became grim, but quickly masked it with a smile.
“Thank you.” She turned and nodded to the doctor --
-- but before she exited, the doctor said, “He might not have known she was in the bushes.”
“I've heard enough complaints from his neighbors about him treating his field like it's a shooting range, but how she was found...” She was silent for a few seconds. Then she looked back, smiled again, and waved at me, “Get well soon.” Then she turned and left the room.
...That was confusing. All I was trying to do was point out I was the fox that farmer was shooting at.
But she'd said, 'shot.' As in, that farmer had managed to hit me.
Then it dawned on me. The dead fox I'd seen with the nasty wounds, my wounded side. That farmer had shot and killed me! And somehow, that mole-lady brought me back to life as a human girl.
I had no idea what was going on, but once I could leave and find the mole-lady...
“Raposa.” My thought bubble burst, and my attention was brought back to the doctor still in the room. “For now, we'll call you Raposa. It's feminine, and it means fox.” When I didn't protest, he smiled at me and asked: “Thirsty or hungry?” In response to that, I nodded with incredible enthusiasm. He laughed and said, “I'll have someone bring you some refreshments.” He walked to the end of my bed and pulled out a clipboard, a pen from his pocket, and scribbled as he said: “Raposa... you're non-verbal, but I guess we'll find out what the CCSA can do.” After he placed the board back, he smiled and announced: “Your supper will be here soon.”
Then he too left...
I couldn't believe it! No need to poach or hunt? Hell yeah! I might not know what all had happened to me, but right now, I brightly smiled at the prospect of an easy meal. When had I ever been fed by people before? What little of their food I've had was euphoric, and that was what they had thrown out!
Paws down, people make great stuff!
Putting aside being shot, killed, and transformed into a little girl, maybe things weren't so bad after all? I kept smiling and enjoying the mysterious circumstances that brought me here... especially when the dish arrived!
My small feet were restlessly kicking the blanket up in excitement.
“Yipee!” When the door opened back up, and I caught sight of the trayed meal on wheels, I couldn't hold in my joy...
After a recovery, settling some legal matters, and back on a potato farm...
“Raposa!” Hearing my name, I froze. I'd got caught!
Over my shoulder, I glanced behind me at Meg. She walked up and knelt down by my side.
She asked: “What are you searching for?”
I looked back into the bushes, my hands a dusty brown from my hunt for the mole-lady... but I was losing hope of ever finding her after weeks of searching.
So I faced Meg, smiled, and giggled with guilt.
She smirked and said, “Just playing around?” Her gaze dropped down to my hands. “How about you play 'Pick the Potatoes' while it's still light out?”
Looking past her, I saw the others on the potato field. Peter was on his hands and knees, carefully unearthing his crop and placing them in a bucket. There were a couple of other much younger men with him, actually boys. The farmer's sons.
Their sons had a more difficult time harvesting the potatoes as carefully while I was with them, but I couldn't figure out why. I'd tried playing with them before and learned I could run and outwit them in almost every game we played. But when it came to laboring on the farm, they were more eager to show off when I happily dug in with them.
That tended to result in bruised or scrapped potatoes. From what I understood, that wasn't a good thing. So I yapped and gave the boys a playful smack anywhere I could reach if they started acting macho in front of me.
On a happier note, there was no more trigger-happy neighbor! No real idea what happened to him, but apparently a farmer who used his field for shooting instead of planting crops wasn't exactly welcomed around here.
My new family was happy to see him go bye-bye.
In any case, work or play, I ended my wildly fruitless hunting and joined a happily healthy company of farming...
MrSimple has written a novel here and there, with quite a few stories (somewhere over thirty and counting). Not all of them are complete, but he's working on it! You can find his stories on either TGStorytime or ScribbleHub.
Workaround
Marc walked into La Cocina, looking around and remembering all the times he'd eaten there before, and who he'd been with. He hadn't been back since Carla had disappeared without a word a few weeks ago. It had been their favorite place.
"How many?" the waitress asked.
"I'm meeting a... friend," he said, looking around. "There." Sitting at a booth in the corner, waving diffidently at him, was a face he hadn't seen in almost four years -- since before Carlos had been captured by Dr. Possibility. A few days later, Marc and the rest of the team had found Dr. Possibility's secret base and rescued him -- but by then it was too late.
The waitress nodded and led him over to Carla's -- no, Carlos's -- table. Marc sat down and didn't bother to look at the menu before ordering a cup of coffee. He wanted to be completely sober for this conversation.
"Hi," Carlos said. "I'm sorry I -- I really messed up, but..." He trailed off and looked away, embarrasssed.
"Don't take this the wrong way," Marc said, choosing his words cautiously. "I don't blame you at all for changing back. I know how traumatized you were right after it first happened, and for a long time after, and even once you got used to it and started moving on with your life, you'd complain a little now and then -- again, I'm not blaming you!" he added, throwing up his hands defensively. "It's the way you did it. Just up and disappearing and then breaking up with me by email after I'd been searching frantically for you for days."
"I'm sorry," Carlos said, still not quite meeting his eyes. "I had to do it. For me. I know I made it look like I'd gotten used to being a woman, and there were certainly some good points to it, but it just wasn't me, and I was afraid if I talked to you about it, you'd talk me out of it. When the opportunity came to change back, I had to take it, even with all the strings attached and the risks involved."
"I would never," Marc began, then checked himself. "Go on, sorry I interrupted."
"And afterward," Carlos continued after a moment, "when I was... like this again," gesturing at his face and upper body, which still looked damn fine to Marc, "it just... wouldn't work, you know? I looked at the pictures of you on my phone and..." He met Marc's eyes for just a moment and then looked out the window again. "I think I was only attracted to you because of what Dr. Possibility did to me. And even then, I was conflicted about it for the first few months."
"You were sending mixed signals for a while there," Marc remembered. "I wasn't sure I wasn't imagining things until you..." He blushed, and so did Carlos, who finally broke the tension by laughing a little.
"Yeah, I can't blame you for pushing me into a relationship I wasn't ready for. That was all me. And I can't blame you for feeling hurt when I left. I really should have told you face to face... can you forgive me?"
"Of course," Marc said. "We've been friends and teammates for a lot longer than we were boyfriend and girlfriend. We can be friends again, and I'll put in a word for you with the team... Mandy is going to insist on disciplinary action after you went to a supervillain to get your problem fixed, but I think we can get you reinstated on the team pretty soon if you want. Or..." He took a deep breath.
"Or?" Carlos met his eyes again, looking curious. "Yeah, I'm not sure I'm ready to come back anyway. I shouldn't go anywhere near HQ until I've gotten another round of tests to make sure the Biodynatron didn't put some kind of hypnotic command in my mind, and besides, I'll need a few weeks to retrain my combat reflexes with this body." He paused, seeming to realize that Marc had more to say.
"I'd like to leave open the possibility of us getting back together," Marc said. "Wait!" he added as Carlos flinched. "I don't need an answer today. I'd just like you to think about a couple of possibilities."
"A couple...?"
"I looked up Dr. Possibility's other victims, and... you know, several of them say their orientation didn't change. Others said they'd thought he changed it, but they later realized they were already bi and didn't realize it until he transformed them. And maybe I'm reading too much into that, but..."
"No," Carlos said emphatically. "I'm a telepath; I'm way more more self-aware than most people, I have to be. I know myself, and I know how I changed when he transformed me, and I know how I've changed again. I'm sorry, but it's just not going to work."
"Okay, fine, but the other possibility I had in mind... was that I be the girlfriend."
Carlos was silent for a moment, his jaw slightly open. "How? You'd go to the Biodynatron and take the same risks I did...?"
Marc shrugged. "I'm not all that strongly attached to being male, and I'd much rather be a woman than lose what we've had for the last three years."
"Really? You'd do that... risk the process going wrong...? Getting mutated in some unpredictable way like Dr. Possibility's first couple of victims?"
"Look into my mind and see if I'm fooling myself." He reached up and turned off the earbud that protected him from hostile telepaths. Even when they'd been living together, he'd usually only take it off when they went to bed; 100% unfiltered honesty all the time wasn't good for a relationship.
There were tears in Carlos's eyes as he opened his mind and connected to Marc's. Marc felt traces of his beloved's thoughts and emotions as he rummaged through Marc's own thoughts, emotions, and motives. Uncertainty, fear, hope... joy.
This was going to work.
Trismegistus Shandy lives in the northern hemisphere. They're currently working on a TG retelling of “Sleeping Beauty.”
Retirement
The din of battle surrounded him on all sides. Cries of agony as many of his regiment fell beneath the blades of the opposing army. The scent of ozone and blood mixed with the earthy smell of the field they fought in. Magic. It arced through the air, frying friend and foe alike. Somehow he was untouched; he frantically searched for the mage. Another bolt of vermillion lightning streaked past, narrowly missing him as he began to dash towards the robed figure that had cast it. The mage wore the all too familiar sneer of someone who delighted in the death they could cause and was flanked by a pair of heavily armored knights that stood with halberds at the ready. He ran as hard and as fast as he could, vaulting over the still-smoldering remains of the mage's victims.
The mage pulled together another spell and raised his hands towards the soldier. “Sìos!”
The mage unleashed his spell as the soldier neared ever closer. His body suddenly felt incredibly heavy and he fell, mid-stride, down into the cold, wet muck. He couldn't move at all; he was stuck on his back staring into the grey sky overhead. Streaks of magic flew over him and slowly the sound of battle faded. He lay there, unable to move, while the sound of armored footsteps neared. The mage's guards loomed over him and positioned the blades of their halberds against his neck.
A moment later the mage himself approached and looked down at the soldier. “Still alive?” He pulled a spell together, then stopped. “No, no... I have a better idea.” He knelt down and placed a hand over the soldier's forehead. “Let's see what's inside here.” The mage's hand glowed with a soft blue light. “Oh, this is interesting.” He stood back up and whispered to the guards.
“Aren't you going to finish the job?” asked the soldier.
The mage knelt down again. “I know exactly what you want, why you enlisted; this is so damned funny. You, soldier boy, want to be a woman and this is how you were going to pay for that.” He laughed. “I could give that to you, but honestly--” The guards pulled their halberds up and buried them in the soldier's torso. “I'd rather you die here, slowly, knowing that you'll never have what you desire.” The mage stood up and walked off, followed by his guards.
The soldier lay there, bleeding in the mud like so many others on that field. Eventually consciousness left him.
Markus Brecht awoke in a cold sweat. It was that dream, no, that memory again. He lifted his shirt and felt the scars on his stomach. He winced; his mind would never let him forget what was said those two decades ago.
The house he had fought for fell soon after that battle and he became a wandering sellsword. In that time he'd made friends, friends he kept to this very day: Annalise, Stephan and Cyril.
He sighed and looked towards the window of the room he'd rented for the night. Judging by the sunlight flooding the room about this time, his friends would be settling in for a late breakfast. He smiled and stood up to stretch. His joints creaked and popped, one of the rewards from a lifetime of battle. He pulled on a set of clothing and magicked off any dirt with a quick cantrip.
“Really need to thank Annalise for teaching me that one.” His voice came out in a low rumble. “Ugh, it's finally time to do something about that.”
He laughed; today was the day he was finally going to do it. He was going to tell his friends about what he wanted; after all, he was getting on in years and his sword arm wasn't anywhere near as strong as it had been. After brushing out his long graying hair, he pulled it back into a ponytail, then headed out of the room and downstairs.
The tavern section of the inn was sparsely populated at this time of day. The locals would have already eaten and left while most visitors would be due later. At the moment, there was only Markus' group, a couple die-hard drinkers and the staff.
He took a seat at the table. “Good morning, everyone.”
Cyril took another bite of the shepherd's pie he was working on. “Sho, it ish.” He swallowed. “You're pretty late, big guy, something up?”
Markus waved his hand dismissively. “No, no... I'm fine.”
Annalise raised a brow. “Doesn't sound like fine, Brecht.”
“You're right, 'Lise, no it don't,” chimed in Stephan. “'Nother bad dream there, Markus?” Stephan winced as Annalise kicked his shin. “Err, sorry.”
Annalise smiled at Markus. “Brecht, we ordered your usual, hope you don't mind.” A barely visible hand pushed a plate of scrambled eggs with chopped sausage towards him. “Ah, a moment, it's a little cold.” The ethereal hand snapped its fingers and the dish began to steam.
Markus looked at the dish and smiled. “Thanks. Annalise, you'll have to teach me that someday.”
“Maybe; have you gotten the previous spell I taught you down?” Markus nodded. “Then sure, and don't worry. It's really no issue to teach you. It's been nice to have someone else interested in the arcane arts around here.”
Markus set to eating his meal. The group had only been back in civilization for a day and he'd needed mending at the time, so he hadn't had a chance to really eat a proper meal. The eggs were light and fluffy and the sausage was spiced well. It was all in all a very good dish.
“We get paid yet?” asked Cyril, having just finished his meal.
Stephan sighed. “Just waitin' on the treasurer to get the coin.” He eyed Cyril. “It's a pretty large haul; what you plan on spending it on?”
Cyril stood up. “I'm glad you asked, friend! I'm going to finally get a horse, a proper horse so that I don't have to bleeding walk everywhere when we travel.”
The ethereal hand raised the pitcher from the center of the table and poured some more water into Annalise's glass. “Are you going to take care of it this time?” She snapped a finger and pointed at the glass; it frosted over. “I seem to recall the last horse you bought running off when you forgot to hitch it when we made camp.” She took a sip.
Cyril blushed in embarrassment. “One time, one time!”
Annalise rolled her eyes. “One time is all it takes, Cyril.”
“She's right, ya know?” added Stephan.
As discussion wound down the attention of the table turned to Markus. “'Hey, what are you gonna do with your cut?” asked Cyril.
Markus didn't think before he spoke. “I'm going to retire.” The mood immediately crashed. “Shit. Might as well explain myself, no getting out of it now.” He tried to straighten his back as much as he could. “My sword arm isn't as dependable as it once was and Stephan is shaping up to be a fine warrior in his own right.”
Stephan smiled briefly at the compliment; Markus had been his instructor for years, stern and strong. Hearing an admission of pride was something he'd longed for. “Thanks, but yer arm is as strong as it e'er was, Markus.”
He laughed. “It's not the strength alone, Stephan, you should know that. Recall last sparring session when you got through my guard, my blade a fraction too slow to stop what would have been a killing blow had it been actual combat.” Markus sighed. “I've been feeling all my old wounds too, especially...” He placed a hand over his stomach, where the blades had dug in all those years ago.
Cyril raised a brow. “We've all gone to the same healers and I don't feel a thing from any of mine, even the time my throat was cut out. As far as I'm aware you aren't cursed.” He shot a glance towards Annalise. “Is he cursed, Anna?”
She made a few arcane gestures. “No, no curse at all on them.” She took another sip of her water. “Though I don't think this pain is physical.” Markus furrowed his brow; she was right. “It's that thing we talked about on those long nights' watch, after the others had gone to sleep, isn't it.” Her face softened from the usual aloof expression she wore to what could be called genuine concern. “Do you want to talk in private?”
Markus felt sweat on his brow. Why? He was going to say it anyway. These were his friends, there was no need to be afraid.
He swallowed hard. "No, Annalise, not in private." His mouth went dry. "I'm not a..." His friends looked at him, waiting for him to finish. "I may look like..." His breath became shallow. "I want to, I want to be..."
Panic was setting in. This was a terrible idea, he thought to himself. He tried to speak again, but all that came out was a soft whimper. Markus cast his eyes down at the table then buried his face in his hands.
"Why can't I just say it?" he said softly.
Annalise knew what Brecht had wanted to say. She'd known for years. Brecht had told her one night during a long watch. It had been when they were in the Rustmire, camped out in an old ruin. Brecht seemed out of sorts. Brecht was assigned to the last watch and had woken up from a nightmare during the preceding watch, her watch. In all the time before that night, she'd barely seen a hint of vulnerability in the old soldier, but that night they were broken. Brecht told her about that day when the house they'd fought for fell, what the mage had said and done to them while they were bound to the muck. She offered to do what the other mage had refused Brecht; they declined, saying it would mean they couldn't protect everyone as well. The old soldier cried that night, for hours.
The sound of them crying brought her out of the memory. Stephan had stood up and placed a hand on Brecht's shoulder. Cyril was in the process of scooting his chair closer to them.
Annalise stood up and the ethereal hand she controlled gently tilted Brecht's head upwards so their eyes would meet. "Brecht. It'll be okay, understand?"
Stephan squeezed Brecht's shoulder. "'Lise's way smarter than any o' us, ya should listen to her. And hey, ya practically raised me, so there ain't nothin' ya could say that'd change what I feel 'bout you."
"You know, if it wasn't for you I'd be rotting in some Imperial cell by now. So whatever it is, I'm ready to listen, Markus." Cyril nervously smiled.
The tears didn't stop, but Brecht was able to speak again. "I really didn't do all that much, Cyril... and Stephan, I wasn't going to leave a kid like you alone after what happened. It's just not something that's done. I'm nothing special." It was so much easier to talk when it was deflecting praise. "Annalise, will it really be okay? Even if I finally take you up on that offer?" Markus felt almost hopeful.
Cyril and Stephan looked to each other. "Offer?" they asked in unison.
Annalise rolled her eyes. "Yes, an offer. I can do it right now, if you don't want to explain."
Markus nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'm, I'm ready." Markus pushed the chair away from the table and stood up. "Please, Anna." They straightened themselves as best they could. "I'm ready."
Annalise stood up as well, her magical hand pushing the chair in as she walked towards Brecht. "Alright, the rest of you, step away from Brecht." She smiled softly as she rummaged through her robes, searching for a potion.
"So's what are ya gonna do, Lise?" asked Stephan as he backed away from Markus.
Cyril backed off too, but looked to Markus instead. "You'll be fine," he said, and flashed what he believed to be a winning smile.
Markus watched as Annalise produced a phial filled with glimmering blue liquid and uncorked it. She downed the draught of raw mana, expensive and rare. Her veins and eyes glowed blue and the air crackled around her. She began to draw sigils in the air and rapidly spoke in the primordial language of magic. The glow that had been in her body transferred to the elaborate spellwork she wove. As she finished, she pulled each sigil and circle together into one twirling, multilayered orb of magic.
Annalise stepped towards Brecht. Their heart raced as they watched her press the orb toward them. Once it connected with their body it unwound, the magical script and energy snaking over their entire body.
"Brecht, try to imagine the form you want to inhabit," said Annalise.
Brecht closed their eyes while the others watched. They knew what they wanted to be; they'd known for years. Brech had seen her in dreams. She was a slight measure shorter than them. Her facial features defined, but with soft edges and full lips. A body that spoke of athleticism, but also grace, a thing they felt they had lacked. And lastly long, red hair.
"Well, would you look at that," said Cyril.
Brecht opened her eyes. Her body felt different, but as she looked down at herself she noticed how everything was where it should be for the first time in her waking life. Stephan rushed over and hugged her. She felt tears form in the corner of her eyes as she returned the hug.
Stephan squeezed her tight. "Ya look different, but ya still hug the same."
Annalise felt woozy. It was a lot of magic to pull off the spell and her helping hand was barely able to move a chair under her to catch her as she fell. "No more magic for a couple days," she mumbled to herself, and returned to watching the others.
The noise made Cyril turn his head. He walked over to her. "You going to be okay?" he asked.
She waved a hand back at him. "I'll be fine. I just need some time to rest." Annalise rubbed her temples to try and soothe her building headache. "Go on, see to Brecht. She could use some encouragement from you too." Her helping hand shooed Cyril away.
Cyril looked over to Brecht; she was still hugging Stephan. He noticed she was smiling. "She's fine, Anna. But, ah, we ought to move somewhere more private. The locals look like they want to ask questions."
"Five minutes. Get them five more minutes without the staff or anyone interfering. After that, I'll be good enough to walk around again," said Annalise.
Cyril headed off to deal with any questions the barmaid or anyone else had while Brecht and Stephan broke their hug.
Brecht looked at Stephan; she was still slightly taller than him even after the changes. "I don't think 'Markus' is going to work for my name anymore." The sound of her voice finally matched the one in her head; it felt good. "Call me Maria. The last name can stay, I've nothing against it.”
Stephan furrowed his brows and it seemed like he was going through the effort of manually replacing every instance of 'Markus' in his memory with 'Maria'. "Maria, are you still going to retire?"
The thought that her friends would still want her to stay and travel with them hadn't really crossed her mind. She had been so lost in the pain of it all.
"Hmm, let's spar, and if I can beat you, I'll accept that I won't be a burden." She smiled wryly. "No letting me win either, I know when you do that."
Stephan punched her shoulder lightly. "I've never let ya win, Maria."
She rolled her eyes. "Sure you haven't. I should be ready in a couple hours."
"Really? Shouldn't ya get some o' yer stuff refitted?" asked Stephan.
During their exchange Annalise had been able to stand again. "I'll take care of that, Stephan." She shot a look to Maria. "Yes, I'm fine. You really worry too much about us," she scoffed.
Annalise wavered a little and Maria moved to steady her, holding one of her hands as she sat back onto a chair. "Well, someone has to worry about you and the others." Maria felt something new while holding Annalise's hand. She blushed slightly. "Let me, uh, help you get around until you recover," she offered while the blush only grew in intensity.
"Sure, a couple more minutes, okay?" said Annalise.
Maria pulled up a chair and sat with her. "Anna, there really isn't anything I can ever do to make this up to you."
"Really, it's not a big deal," Annalise said.
After a couple minutes, the two of them went upstairs leaving Stephan and Cyril behind. They entered Maria's room and she helped Annalise over to the bed. The mage was tired, exhausted really. She lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
She lifted her head up slightly. "Everything feel alright, Maria? No numbness or tingling?" she asked.
Maria bit her lip. "There was a, um, kind of tingling. I just don't think it was an issue." She looked away.
Annalise let her head fall back onto the bed. "I'm serious, Maria, any odd sensation could be magical feedback and I'll have to make sure you're stable."
Maria felt her whole face heat up. "No, it's not like that, it's... uh..."
"Oh Gods, it's like that? You are precious, girl." The mage laughed. "Ow, laughing hurts."
"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Maria.
She waved a hand from the bed. "Yeah, let's see if you're any better at channeling mana in your new form."
Meanwhile, Cyril had managed to not only get the barmaid off their case, but also get a date set for later that night. He caught up with Stephan out behind the inn. The other man was swinging a dulled practice sword around.
"Stephan, why are you practicing?" asked Cyril.
Stephan continued to practice forms. "Maria says she isn't gonna a retire if she can still beat me," he responded.
Cyril shrugged. "That's Brecht's new name?"
Stephan brought his blade down heavily before responding. "Yeah."
"And you're practicing why?"
"She says she'll know if I ain't trying," said Stephan.
Cyril cracked his neck. "Ah, so when's the match?" He climbed up onto part of the roof and swung his legs over the side. "Don't normally care much to watch you two, but I can't wait to see her kick your ass."
"So you think I'll lose?" asked Stephan.
Cyril tossed a pebble from the roof at Stephan, hitting his sword, knocking it slightly aside. "Yeah, I do. She's probably got her full range of motion back now that her body's less worn down." He sighed. "You didn't even know her before she nearly lost her left arm, did you?" he asked.
Stephan stopped practicing. "She never told me about that. And wouldn't the healers have managed to fix her up?"
Cyril shook his head. "Nah, we barely had enough to pay for any mending at all after she'd posted my bail. It healed up all wrong and never set right after that either." He threw another pebble, this one striking right between Stephan's eyes. "What I'm saying is that you don't have a chance, kid." He laughed.
"We'll see," said Stephan.
Cyril nodded.
About an hour later, Maria and Annalise rounded the side of the inn, hand in hand. Maria was wearing what looked to have been her travelling clothing, but refitted and dyed more colorfully: a forest green tunic and deep brown pants. Her red hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she held a practice sword in her right hand.
Cyril raised a brow at the pair while Stephan waved.
Maria checked the straps on her buckler before squaring off with Stephan. "Remember, no going easy on me." She raised her sword.
Stephan raised his own in kind. "Don't plan on it, Maria."
Annalise moved to watch from the space under where Cyril was perched. Stephan and Maria circled each other, leaving fresh tracks in the dirt. Cyril cupped his hands together, but before he could shout, Stephan had surged towards Maria with a heavy swing. She stepped to his left and Stephan twisted in an attempt to catch her with a diagonal swing. It met the curve of her buckler and was knocked aside as she used the opening to try and land a blow on his torso. Stephan barely managed to put his buckler in the way of the strike.
Stephan pulled back. "I see what Cyril meant now."
Maria leveled her sword at him. "Oh, he told you?"
Stephan raised his in response. "Yeah."
He made a thrust towards her as she started to respond only for it to be bashed away by her buckler. She dashed in on the stunned man and smashed the buckler against his face, sending him reeling backwards. Before he could recover, she put the tip of her sword under his chin.
She smirked. "I guess I'm not retiring."
Stephan dropped his sword; Maria did as well. The two of them hugged, then Maria turned to the others. "Let's get that bloody nose mended and Cyril that damned horse!" she shouted.
Morrigan is a twenty-eight year old trans woman who lives in southern California. She has an associate's degree in veterinary science. She hopes dearly to be able to write fiction with the representation she needed when growing up. Other than that, she is a danger and must be stopped.
Ashmedai
Arizona, June 8th, 1876
We raced down the trail, attempting to reach the town of North Peak before nightfall. We had been riding for nearly six hours in the dark, taking our time due to the unknown terrain, the darkness, and threat of any sudden attack. The guide, meant to lead my men through the Sterling Pass in the search of the missing Indians, had led us astray through a pass he called Crown Valley and allowed us to be picked off one by one by some unseen entity. Now all that was left was me and a mostly quiet marshal from Alexandria, Virginia named Mathew Henry. However, I knew for certain, though my Gift, that my brother, who had just joined the Marshal Service and had come along, was still alive. We needed help to rescue him from whoever or whatever took him and fast, but first, we needed to reach the nearest town for supplies and men. That town just happened to be North Peak, a remote mining town.
“If we continue at this pace, the horses will be dead before we get anywhere near North Peak,” Marshal Henry muttered.
“We passed it coming in. We should be a couple of minutes from the town. Let's just hope they have what we need,” I replied, keeping my eyes focused on the terrain ahead, looking for any indication of the town. Henry seemingly agreed, but his concern was with the horses. If they died, then we would be limited in any attempt at a rescue. What's more, whatever or whoever had taken out my team could still be following us, wanting to finish us off. Luckily, though, Matthew spotted the town to the south of the direction we were heading, the sun coming up from the East washing over it. Relief washed over us at the sight. Even the horses, who had been galloping practically nonstop for the last two days, got the wind back in them at the sight of the town.
Rustling from the bushes near us spurred us to ride into town, heading immediately to the general store. “Hope to God they have bullets.” I grabbed the two rifles we had left and headed in. Looking around, I realized that they did have the supplies we needed, food and water; but this store did not seem to have bullets.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” the store's owner asked.
“Yes, there is. Do you sell bullets?” I inquired.
The store owner studied us for a second. “Who's asking?”
I showed the guy my marshal badge. “I'm Deputy Samuel Morris of the United States Marshal Service.
“We don't serve government agents in this town. You need to get out.” The owner pulled out a pistol and aimed it at me. One of two things occupied this town, either former Confederate soldiers and loyalists, or outlaws trying to keep a low profile from both the Marshal Service and Project Genesis. Considering that the store owner lacked the distinct southern accent and no Confederate flags could be seen in the store nor the town, it was very likely the latter.
“Sir, with all due respect, my men were wiped out by some creature in the Crown Valley Pass and we need...”
“The Crown Valley Pass?!?!” the store owner screamed, deeply shaken, interrupting me in the process, “What in God's name were you doing there?”
Before yesterday, I would have been confused, but after seeing my men get ripped to shreds and my brother kidnapped off his horse by some unseen entity, it seemed natural that the people would know about this creature. “We were led there by some guide my team picked up in Prescott. We were searching for the missing Indian tribes,” I tried to explain.
“I don't care. Get out of this...” the owner didn't have time to finish his sentence. Henry had walked up beside him and knocked him out with the pistol grip of his gun, grabbing the owner's own gun as he dropped to the ground.
“Good work, Henry. Not Marshal behavior, but to be frank, we don't have much of a choice. Search for any weapons; I'm going to over to the local saloon. If my intuition is right about this place, that is where I will find less than desired Gifted and maybe even a sheriff. Hopefully, I can recruit a few men to aid us in a rescue attempt.”
I left the General Store, making a quick stop where we'd tied up the horses. They seemed to be recovering well, drinking and eating hay. Good, now we don't need to buy or steal more horses. Then the saloon. My experiences with such places were less than pleasant, and if I was right about the store owner, there would be outlaws and Gifted who were nothing but bad news, but it was better than nothing. This was clearly demonstrated the second I walked into the local saloon, a knife embedding itself in the wall two inches from my head. Impressive shot, but now all eyes were on me.
Keeping my head down, I made my way over to the bartender, whose arm was wrapped in bandages. “I'm looking for the local sheriff, assuming this town has one.” The bartender pointed to a table in the middle of the saloon. I tipped my hat in thanks. I walked over to where the bartender had said the sheriff was. He was sitting back with his legs propped up on another chair, his hat tipped down so I couldn't see his face. Aside from that, he looked kind of small. “Sir... my name is Samuel Morris...” I started out, avoiding saying that I was a deputy with the U.S. Marshal Service to avoid a repeat of what had happened in the general store.
The sheriff immediately pulled his pistol out, cocking it and aiming it at my forehead. “Let's skip the formalities, Deputy Marshal, and get right to the point. Why are you here and what do you want?” The sheriff looked up to face me and I realized I'd made a mistake when addressing this person. The small size, the voice, and the face looking at me now. Despite the short hair and the masculine way of dress, it was clear that the sheriff of North Peak was a woman.
“Ma,am” I tipped my head in a greeting. “I'm going to lift up my gun and place it on the table.” I slowly reached for the gun, sitting it on the table as a peace offering. “If we can keep this meeting civilized, I'm sure I can answer your questions.”
She seemed to consider it, putting her pistol on the table and then taking a swig from her drink. “Carleton Roan. I'm the sheriff of this town and the final word. Now, Deputy Morris, why are you here and what do you want?”
Carleton? That is quite the masculine name for a woman. “Sheriff Roan, Washington has become concerned about the disappearing Indian tribes in these areas. They despatched thirty men, half of them Gifted, led by me, from Salt Lake City to investigate their disappearance. We picked up a guide in Prescott and headed towards the Sterling Pass, but were led astray, where some unseen creature ripped my men apart one by one until me and one other remained. We escaped and rode here for supplies and hopefully some reinforcements to head back.”
Sheriff Roan tensed up, as did a few other patrons of the saloon. “Where did this happen?”
“Our guide called it Crown Valley Pass.”
Immediately, everybody in the Saloon was on me with their pistols. The Gifted here didn't even bother with their gifts, relying solely on relentless firepower. Even the women had pistols trained on me. Sheriff Roan herself had both her gun and mine pointed at me. “Why the hell would you want to go back there? Heh... some outsider. That pass is called the Valle de Ashmedai. It is where the Changers live.”
Changers? “Who?”
Sheriff Roan smirked. “Changers, shapers, the mutilationers, whatever people prefer to call them, they are Gifted who possess gifts that can reshape your entire body and pervert your own gift.”
Memories flashed through my mind, of my childhood; my father telling me, my baby brother and my sisters legends he had heard on his voyages with the Navy, tales of the ancient Blessed, the stories of battles, the grand quest for the Tomb, and the legends of those whose gifts could create the monsters of myth and lore. “I have heard of these kinds of Gifted, but only through stories, legends.”
“Those legends are far from legends. I'm a living testament to that and so is Will. Hey, Will, show this Deputy Marshal your arm.”
I looked back at Will, the bartender I'd questioned coming him. He stopped cleaning a cup and unwrapped the badges on his left arm, revealing a clawed, scaly, rough arm. It wasn't human, it was reptilian. “What the hell?”
“His gift once allowed to him to mimic certain reptiles. But the Changers, they perverted his gift and now, it gives him reptilian features against his will. Only a nullification crystal he has on him keeps the perverted gift at bay,” Sheriff Roan said with an edge of sadness and fear on her face. Everybody in the Saloon appeared to sympathize with Will, who immediately rewrapped his reptilian arm. “Mutilation of your entire being, with no regard for free will or anything. That is who the Changers are. The creature you said killed your team? We call him Ashmedai, a testament to what they can do. A simple kid, caught in the wrong place, mutilated, changed and perverted beyond anything human. What was once my... brother, a simple, innocent, caring person, is now only a beast, serving mindlessly for the Changers. Now tell, why do you want to go back to that pass?”
“How about this, we all put our guns down and be a bit more civilized, then he tells you,” Henry said, having snuck up once again and put a gun to Roan's head. “I can drop you faster than you can all drop me, so do we all have a deal?” Sheriff Roan glared at Henry but lowered the guns, followed everybody else. The saloon seemed to return to normal after that. “That's better.” Henry pulled up a chair and sat down next to me, ready to keep the peace.
“My twenty-one-year-old brother, Seamus. He just joined the Marshal Service and shipped out to Salt Lake City to join me, ultimately coming with me. He ended up being the only one taken alive by Ashmedai. I know he is alive and I want to save him, regardless of who has him,” I said affirmatively.
“Does he have a gift?” Roan asked
I nodded. “We both do. Mine is a weak level 2, simple life force detection. I know when someone is dead or alive. That's how I know my brother is still alive, but as for Seamus, he has a gift, but we have no idea what it is.”
Sheriff Roan sighed,.“Look, I do sympathize with you. I really do, but I can't you help you, nor can anybody else here. If they took your brother, he's a lost cause and will probably end up dead in a couple of days or worse. My recommendation for you two, leave. Get out of here. Go back to Salt Lake City and forget this ever happened. No one needs to know, not even the government.”
I slammed my hand down on the table. A few patrons went for their pistols, but Sheriff Roan held her hand up to stop them. “Forget? How can I forget? Seamus is my brother and he's only blood relative I have left in this world. My mother, father, sisters, all dead. He is all I have left and I will not just leave him. I will rescue him, even if I have to drag Project Genesis all the way from Washington.” I paused for a second, then realized something. “Wouldn't you give anything to save your own brother?”
Sheriff Roan pulled out a small coin, rubbing it with her finger. It had an arrow pointing up with two broadswords crossed over it. “I understand what you are going through. Believe me. All I had left in the world was my own brother and I would do anything to get him back, but without the Artifact or the Sword, there is no fighting them. Just go home. Forget about your brother.” I should have let her have it at that point, talking about some artifact I would need and about forgetting my brother, but I realized that it had hurt Sheriff Roan to actually tell me this, almost like she was actually telling it to herself.
“I...” I started to say, but was interrupted by someone barging into the Saloon. It was the General Store owner, the one Henry had knocked out. He immediately spotted me, Henry and Sheriff Roan and came charging at us. “Balls. He woke up. Get ready,” I quietly muttered to Henry.
He cocked the hammer of his pistol, keeping it below the table line so the owner couldn't see it. However, the owner completely ignored me and Henry. “Sheriff, a rider has come in from North Ridge. His posse has discovered something extremely grim. A small army camp, just northwest three miles at the edge of Oak Creek, was completely destroyed. The soldiers ripped apart. Sheriff, the rider is certain that it is the work of Ashmedai.”
The owner had everybody's attention. The general atmosphere of the saloon had completely shifted. Whispers and muttering filled the air. “But Ashmedai never leaves the pass. That army camp is too far south for the Changers to even begin to give a damn unless...” Sheriff Roan looked at me then at her coin. “Men, mount up! We ride to the camp immediately to search for survivors!” she ordered the men of the saloon and without question, they obeyed, rushing out into to retrieve their horses. “You two need to come along,” she told both me and Henry.
I didn't question why. If it was army soldiers who were dead, the nearest law enforcement agents were me and Henry. Plus, if this Ashmedai creature was responsible, chances are that he would still be around and my brother might be as well. We quickly mounted and headed out in the same direction we'd come from , passing the part of the trail where I and Henry had first spotted North Peak. We'd actually had no idea that an army unit was nearby. The movement of troops was not something we were told about and the way communications worked out here in the West, it would be extremely difficult to inform us if they wanted to. But there was another issue. The direction that me, Henry, Sheriff Roan, and thirty or forty other men were riding towards was the exact spot where a small Indian tribe had disappeared fourteen years ago. So why would the government not tell me that they would have an army division here? We could've linked up and avoided the pass that got all my men except two killed.
We reached the disappearance spot and found, not a camp set up by army soldiers, but a battlefield. This wasn't like what had happened to me, where something had stalked and eliminated us one by one. No, no, this was a massacre. Rifles lying around, shattered, bullet casings thrown about. Swords twisted and mangled, the remains of the riders still on their horses. “The rider was right, this is the work of Ashmedai,” I heard Roan mutter, fear in her voice. “Fan out. Search for survivors.”
Henry and I glanced at each other. From what we'd heard and experienced, there would be no survivors. And it seemed incredibly foolish for me to think that my brother would be here or close by. I dismounted from my horse, Orion, and approached what remained of an army tent. I tried looking for any indication of what army infantry or cavalry division they were part of. But no such luck. Looking over the remains of the soldiers in front of me, there was nothing to help me determine anything about the unit they were from or why they were in this area. Someone must have walked through here and removed the pins, keeping me or Henry from learning who they were. This meant that when the camp was deliberately attacked, Ashmedai was not alone, giving me hope once again that my brother was nearby.
“We found a survivor!” someone shouted from a nearby rock formation. We all ran over to see who it was. To say I was beyond shocked is an understatement when I saw who the survivor was. It was Seamus, my brother. He was lying underneath a bush, but still breathing. He didn't look like he'd been out in the sun being cooked. Overall, he looked unharmed but strangely smaller. I ran to his side, propping him up, trying to wake him. But there was something immediately wrong. He was much lighter than I ever remembered. He was thin and lean, but this not this much. I heard Sheriff Roan walk up, gasp, and whisper “not again.”
Roan's masculine name, her past run-ins with the Changers, the way she talked about herself back in the Saloon... I connected the dots. Hesitantly, I reached for Seamus's chest, praying that I wouldn't find what I expected to find. But I did. The reason he was thinner, smaller -- the Changers had turned him into a woman, just like they'd done to Sheriff Roan. My baby brother, my only living family, was now my sister.
I looked at Henry, whose face told me that he also knew. “Why would they leave him... her here?” Roan finally asked.
Henry looked around at the destroyed camp. “Maybe a trap?”
While Sheriff Roan and Henry discussed the possibility of an ambush, I pulled my new sister close to me, giving him a hug. While I was just glad to have him... er... her back, I was also terrified of what else they could have done to her. But at the moment, when I pulled her close, hoping that she would wake up, I noticed that a note had been placed under her. I picked it up, unfolded it, and read perfectly written English:
Consider your new sister, your slaughtered men and this battlefield a warning to you and any who may want to trespass on our land. Be grateful her gift is the same as ours, Samuel, otherwise we would have considered your invasion an act of war. If anybody comes through our valley again, it will be war and you will burn.
The note was addressed to me, but what was more important to me was what the note said about Seamus's gift. My family had never been able to figure it out, but it appeared that the Changers had figured it out and the reason why I had her back was solely because of that.
As Seamus began to stir, Sheriff Roan took the note and read over it, crushing it in frustration right after. “So that is why they took her, why they only did this to her, and why they left her here for us to find. Her Gift, it's the same as theirs...” Sheriff Roan looked at me with sorrow and sympathy. “Your new sister is and always has been a Changer...” Considering everything so far that I'd been told about them and what Henry and I had experienced first hand, this was the worst possible news. But nothing could prepare either one of us for what Sheriff Roan said next: “Just like me.”
Paradox is the author of a few other stories, all available on TGStorytime under the pen name of Paradox and BigCloset under the pen name of TGSparadox.
Do You Turn Into Your Avatar?
“Are you ready?” the doctor asked me.
It was a room half the size of a basketball court. There were chambers around one side of it in a crescent pattern, each one the size of a small car but the shape of a baked potato. I lay inside the only one that was open, and I wore monitoring nodes all around my naked body. A few of the nodes itched while the fluid within my chamber carried with it a subtle chill.
I nodded to him and slipped further into the chamber. The doctor signaled to one of his technicians. I saw the hatch close over me and the light go out. The chamber then filled with more fluid, and I fought my instincts to hold my breath. I was still unsure how I would be able to breathe once I was totally submerged in the liquid, especially with its low viscosity.
Despite my inhibitions, I inhaled and took in the liquid.
A powerful sensation overtook me. Have you ever woken up feeling as though you'd just fallen against your own mattress from a few centimeters above it? It was something like that -- short and sudden. My eyes shot open, and I was standing outside on a beach during the daytime. I was unsure if it was dawn or dusk. I was unsure about a lot of things.
This was so amazing if I was truly inside of the virtual system. Everything looked and felt so real. It was like I was transported elsewhere, and I couldn't feel the monitoring nodes or liquid. The feeling of fabric around my body, however, registered as I rose a hand in front of my face. The cloth could wait, whatever it was, because this hand wasn't mine. I knew my whorls and creases, and scaly patches of skin over my manly knuckles; and yet what I saw was softer, smoother skin with nails that were manicured and polished. The sole feature I could recognize was the pinpoint-size mole between my index and middle fingers.
Finally, my gaze descended to the pearl-white dress I was wearing. I was now sporting some impressive cleavage. No, this was wrong. My real body was that of a man. I pinched one of my apparent boobs and immediately regretted it. The shocking sensation caused me to stumble. At least the feeling from that pinch wore off fast.
“OK, calm down, Richard,” I told myself in a whisper. “You can fix this. How do I fix this?”
I looked around the beach. No one else was present. A mound of rocks towered over me to the left, and a two-story building sat to my right atop a hill. There was a bracelet in the sand behind me with a white strip of paper attached. Curious, I picked it up and examined it. The band was thin compared to either of my pinky fingers, but also gold in color except for the blue rectangular stones on one side. The strip had my last name on it.
I had to admit; the bracelet certainly looked nice. I'm sure whomever this body was meant for would have liked to have something like this, so I did her a favor by putting the bracelet on. Maybe there was a woman with my surname?
After slipping on the fine adornment, I thought about customer service, or some means to file a bug or complaint. I was no technical expert--I played sports when I was in high school and college more than I paid any attention to this sort of thing--but I knew that computer systems had someone you could try to flag down about an issue. I mean, I was sure this was a virtual reality, or else I was stuck in a hot body I'd only begun to see.
Suddenly, a projection of light appeared over my hand. It was rectangular like a screen, and larger than my two hands combined. The image displayed a help desk and an opening message, both written and verbal:
“Hello, welcome to the Ava World v0.9b Help Desk (v1.7). It would appear that this is your first time using the built-in interface. We are sure you have many questions, but let us take a moment to get you orientated first. This accessory you are now wearing is one of several available, but it is also keyed to your avatar so no one else is able to touch it unless you give it to them out of pure volition. Anyone else will simply pass through the item if they try to touch it. Second, anyone looking at you right now will see a pale, blank screen over your wrist. You alone can see and hear the information we will give.
“If you see an error in your time with us, or if you believe yourself in danger, you can submit a ticket. However, you are limited to one submission to one in-world day, or seventy-two real-life minutes. Before you ask, your perception of this time will, in fact, be synced to the virtual world you are in. This measure was put in place to make it possible to serve everyone's needs on our end. As of version 1.7 of the Help Desk, we are able to keep the tickets open for user editing in the event of more clarity being needed. Thank you, and we hope you enjoy your stay.”
Well then! I had a hard time denying that this information was plentiful and good to know. The abundance of it all was nearly enough to prevent me from being able to remember why I'd opened the interface in the first place. I assumed that this meant the thing was controlled with my mind, so I browsed the options with my eye and focused on the one for submitting a ticket.
My message, once prompted, said, “My name is Richard Graham. I signed up to try out your virtual rejuvenation program on May 27, 2027. When I opened my eyes in this virtual world, I noticed that I was in the body of a woman instead of a man. Can we please fix this while I am in here?”
After that, I walked up the hill and saw someone else approach in a car. He was a handsome young man who looked to be about my age, give or take a few years, and his open shirt and swimming trunks indicated that he was here to enjoy the scene. Here I was being a part of that scene.
“Good morning,” he said. “You aren't leaving, are you?”
“I just got here,” I said.
“Heck of a short trip. Why don't you stay a while? Or are you supposed to meet someone already?”
“Uhh, no, I'm here by myself. Are you from the outside world? I mean, shit, maybe that's a mind-blowing question if you're not, huh?”
He laughed. I promise I'm not always this awkward or goofy. The man climbed out of his car and took his first few steps onto the beach sand. He smiled at me and held out an arm.
“My name's Cody,” he said.
“Gloria.” I have no idea why I said that name. I knew two girls with that name, one of which had turned me down when I asked her out some years ago. I supposed it was a good enough name for now until the administrators contacted me about my avatar.
Cody said, “Gloria? It's a pleasure. Don't you worry about who is or isn't from outside around here. Everyone else might as well be as real as we are. Come on, I'll show you how real this place can be.”
You know what? I accompanied him down to the beach, glad to have some company during my time here. We waded through the shallow water and soaked in the atmosphere. We chatted for some time as well. Cody told me he was a manager at some café and vegan bakery in a college town, but was on a forced vacation at the moment while the shop was being rebuilt. Someone had assaulted the place, accusing it of more political stances than Cody could shake a stick at, and the place caught fire. Cody had broken his leg and taken various burns while saving his patrons.
My story was that I'd worked with athletes until a week ago when I was injured for less heroic reasons. Actually, it was rather embarrassing.
He laughed and didn't prod any further into my past. I wasn't going to tell him that I was an athlete. The last thing I needed was for someone to be able to track me down out there and make a fuss.
“Now what?” I asked him as we sat on the beach.
“Breakfast?” said Cody. “There's a place around here that serves the best waffles I've ever had, if you're interested.”
“I'm not sure I have any money on me.”
My words made Cody burst out laughing. “You don't need to worry about that here. In this world you acquire things by asking for them, and only work because it is something to do around here. Wild, I know.”
“OK, let's have breakfast then.”
He led me back to his car, where I shook the sand out of my sandals next to the vehicle before getting in. I half expected Cody to drive like a spaz, but he handled the car better than my folks did when they had taught me how to drive. It took me moments to remember that we were in a virtual world, and I was no longer sure if this was his driving skills at work or not.
There was a corner breakfast diner half a mile from the beach. I never knew that such a wide selection for waffle dishes was possible, and yet here I was. It beat out every frozen yogurt shop and, as far as I knew, matched those restaurants that allowed you to customize your pizza with a production line. That made me think of sandwich places, so I ordered a waffle sandwich with eggs and bacon.
I marveled, also, at the digital sign that appeared on one pane of glass and said that all recipes were technically vegan and gluten free. Those smarmy developers! I was certain some vegans did not appreciate the glib as much as I did.
Before you ask, yes, breakfast was delicious.
Once the meal was done, I thanked Cody for the meal, and learned how to send short messages to people to see if they're available for anything. That was good to know for later, but I was trying to get away to figure out what to do with myself until the support team came along to change my virtual body. I didn't want to make a deal out of this. What if Cody wanted to do things with me I wasn't ready or willing to do? What if I was changed back into a male, and it scared off this new friend I was making?
“What do people do about housing in this world?” I asked him. “You told me that we only have to ask for things around here, but is housing still a thing?”
“It totally is,” said Cody.
“Cool.”
“In fact, you have options between your own place or sharing a residence with another person. I might know someone who's looking for a roommate.”
With a giggle, I said, “If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get me to move in with you.”
“It's certainly too soon for me to be thinking of that. We met about an hour or two ago. Besides, you probably want time to settle in and meet other people. I wouldn't mind helping you figure out where to go or how to obtain a place of your own. How would you like to do that today?”
Turning him down turned out to be one of the hardest things I've had to do in my life. On the other hand, I didn't really have to turn him down, so he came with me to an apartment building where I was able to ask the person behind the desk for a room with a balcony and a view.
Cody went back to whatever else he had planned for the day before I went up to my virtual home. It was clean, it was spacious for a studio apartment, and it was void of any furniture or décor.
I needed to fix that.
So I browsed my interface, figuring that it came with sites for ordering what I needed to make this apartment look like somebody lived here. It took me an hour and a half to pick out and order everything I could think of to be delivered, and then half an hour for my things to arrive.
Dusk had come by the time I'd moved the big furniture around the apartment. I was actually exhausted by that, even though I was careful not to order anything that was conceivably too heavy. I'd just sat down on my bed when I suddenly became aware of an incoming message.
That awareness was weird to me. In the real world, there were lights or sounds to signify that a message was incoming, or else, if you missed it, you'd have to check for them. Now? I knew that I had a note.
Cody was contacting me. I opened up my virtual interface and turned on the voice chat between us.
“What's up?” I asked.
“Hey,” said Cody, “I was about to grab dinner, and I was curious if you wanted me to bring something as a sort of housewarming gift.”
“You've already done plenty today.”
“Alright, I figured I would ask. Have a good night, Gloria.”
“Fine.”
“Huh?”
I said, “You can come over.”
“That... wasn't a guilt trip or anything.”
“I know, but I'm tired, I'm hungry, and it's only fair you got to see the new place since you've helped me this far.”
The next forty-five minutes after that became the most trippy roller coaster a man playing a woman's avatar by accident could ever think to experience. It started when I ended the voice chat and walked to the body-length mirror to examine my avatar. She was definitely attractive with her feminine hips and boobs that sat between oranges and grapefruit in size. Her soft, natural tan and darker blue eyes were all too familiar, yet the former was smoother to the touch. Her dark brown hair was the same shade as mine, and as straight or thick, but it was long enough to flow past my shoulders, unlike the buzz cut I'd been sporting for the last decade.
Seeing the beauty in the mirror, I pulled out the straps of white cloth sitting over my shoulders, and let the dress fall to the floor. There wasn't a single thought about wanting to date the woman I saw. The most coherent thought I could find was that if she were my sister, I'd have fought off a bunch of assholes to protect her. If you've seen the sort of guys who call women on the Internet sluts or thots with one hand, and use the other hand to pleasure themselves to just about anything, you'd probably know the kind of guys I'd protect her from.
But she wasn't my sister. My only other sibling was a little brother who I hoped was growing up right. No, this reflection was me, and I was no longer sure if appearing in this body was a mistake.
Damn it, I'm a man. I've always been one.
I stormed my new wardrobe and put something on that was simple and gender neutral -- a shirt and sweatpants. I should have worn something like this to move my furniture around, now that I was thinking about it. Live and learn, right?
Cody showed up wearing a more complete, but still casual, outfit in addition to the dinner he'd brought. We ate it by the small table and finished while we talked about our respective days. Apparently, he had a couple friends who wanted him to come do some fantasy game with them a couple days from now.
“It probably sounds kind of geeky to you, huh?” Cody said.
“If you enjoy a thing, and it doesn't do any harm, then do it,” I said. “This virtual thing gives us a chance to live longer and do more than we could do outside.”
“You're right about that. Of course, you could always come with me. It could be fun, and it could introduce you to more people being treated around the continent. Give it some thought.”
“Maybe.”
Cody got up and circled behind me. Before I could fully register what he was doing, he was straightening out a few strands of my hair and massaging my shoulders. It felt nice; too nice.
“Until then,” he said, “what would you say to a little fun tonight?”
Little? Not to spoil all of the details, but there was nothing little about it. I lay in bed afterwards, and tried to contemplate what I was doing. Why was I falling for Cody so easily like this? It didn't seem to matter as I dozed off in his arms.
Dawn met with the curtains on the window, its light failing to pierce the sides. I stirred awake, and was once again aware of a message. It wasn't from Cody, unless he knew how to send them in his sleep, so I checked my virtual interface. The support team had responded.
They said, “We have received your ticket regarding the gender discrepancy. We apologize if your female avatar is not to your liking. Would you like us to process a change for you? WARNING: such a request will take up to eight in-world hours for us to process. If you have any need of privacy, please secure such a place eight in-world hours from the time you respond to this requesting a change. This offer is good until one real world day, or twenty in-world days, before your scheduled retrieval from the rejuvenation system.”
I was stunned. The day before was better than expected, but it was one day. If I changed back into a man, then what of Cody and his apparent affection towards me? Here I was in a body I was accepting as my own, and no longer sure what I wanted. I didn't even know I'd wanted what we had last night, and I couldn't find it in me to be anything close to upset that it happened.
The interface closed out. Doing the math in my head, I had 139 in-world days left to enjoy this thing I had now, whatever it was. I had 119 in-world days to figure it out. That was four long, wondrous months in this gorgeous body.
It was likely that I wanted more, but how was this possible? Who was I?
Meanwhile...
In an experimental lab for bodily rejuvenations, one of the chambers began a new process never tried before outside of science fiction. The human body was malleable in the right conditions. All it took was the right decision, and a woman was reborn.
A single doctor smiled, looking on. This was a sign of the times.
Afterword
It keeps getting harder to get enough stories submitted. I think the gap between “The Monster Mash” and this tape is one of the longest yet, certainly longer than any gap between tapes in the last several years. Thanks to all our contributors, especially to first-time contributors Dark Sun Morrigan and Morrigan Q.R. The title of this tape comes from the 1997 song of the same title by Phish.
If you'd like to submit a story to the next mixtape, send it to [email protected] either as an attachment (.rtf or .txt) or a Google Docs link. Guidelines:
1. Up to 4,000 words, but preferably shorter.
2. No fanfic, original work only.
3. Must have some sort of TG content, if only implied. No restriction as to magical transformation, cross-dressing, realistically transitioning characters, etc.
There is no unifying theme this time. However, if I get some stories with a Halloween theme by October 20, I'll try to get the tape out by October 31 even if it has fewer than the usual quorum of stories.
Comments
Fascinating
Thank you for the effort this tape took. I enjoyed it a lot. There are so many talented writers out there.
>>> Kay
Desert Willow/Willow_AE here.
Desert Willow/Willow_AE here.
I'm glad you liked this mixtape. I fully recommend seeking out more stories written by some of us, and showing your continued support. =D