Phaze Doubt

Then the cloak animated, drawing itself close to his body. It wrapped itself about his torso, and extended down, thinning, forming a snug wetsuit. It reached his genital region and tightened about it. Oddly, his member did not react; instead it became numb. There seemed to be an anesthetic quality to Nepe’s substance, so that wherever it touched him he felt comfortable and relaxed. That was fortunate, because otherwise the notion of being so completely enclosed by a female, even a juvenile one, could have caused an awkward reaction.

The material at his shoulder humped up and formed a hood. Then it closed over his face. He was able to breathe through his nose and his mouth, but his nostrils and lips were coated with the film of flesh. He felt activity at the top and back of his head, and realized that the cap over his hair was growing hair of its own, extending down to his shoulders. Nepe was transforming his appearance!

There was a squeeze on his right arm. He looked at it, and saw that it was now visible: smooth and white, with silver-tinted nails. Then he remembered Nepe’s instructions: she put pressure on the side from which she wanted him to turn, guiding him in the manner of a horse. He turned, then walked forward as he felt guiding pressure at his backside.

At the side of the chamber a mirror hung on the wall. He went to it and looked at his reflection—and was amazed.

Not only was he visible now—he looked exactly like a beautiful woman! His hair was silvery, his eyes an echoing gray, long-lashed and large. His chest was a bosom, with extremely full and well-formed breasts. His waist was high and small, his hips wide, his legs well fleshed. There was no trace of his penis or testicles; he now had the dainty cleft of maidenhood. He was the image of a creature who, in other circumstances, he would have been glad to embrace.

Except that he was man-sized. As a woman, he was an Amazon. That would make others take unwanted notice.

His flesh-covering quivered. Then the image in the mirror fuzzed and re-formed—smaller. Nepe had done magic of some sort, and made him smaller—no, made him appear smaller, for only his reflection had diminished. That meant he would have to avoid contact with others as much as possible, to preserve the illusion.

Nepe—magic? No, that wasn’t the way it worked. She must have had a spell provided by Flach, maybe an amulet to be invoked. Amulets didn’t have to be like gems or dolls; one could be as small as a single hair, carried in her substance.

His respect for the child increased another notch. She had evidently prepared well for this mission of hers. If she was only a part of a larger plan of resistance, that plan must be formidable!

She guided him back to his original place, and to his clothing. He put on robe and sandals—and as he did so, they changed appearance and became feminine. He realized that he could have masqueraded as a woman much more simply by having his clothing changed and stuffed, but for some reason Nepe wanted him authentic through to the buff.

He stood in the center of the chamber, before the door, and waited. In a few minutes there was the sound of someone approaching, and the door opened.

Brown stood there. She stared at him, evidently astonished. It was a sentiment he could appreciate.

“Thou needs must come—“ she started, faltering as her eyes continued to travel over the apparition. Lysander realized that she had sent Tsetse away somewhere, so knew this was someone else, yet could not verify it by sight.

Now his lips felt pressure, and he knew it was time to speak. He said the most neutral thing he could think of, knowing that his voice would ruin the illusion. “Yes, of course, Brown. Whatever you say.” And was astonished again, himself. The voice he heard was not his own, but that of a woman. The illusion changed the sound, too!

The Hectare had sadly misjudged the power of magic! Lysander had not even believed in it, when he arrived, and though the Hectare in charge had surely researched it, they could hardly have appreciated its nuances. For the first time, Lysander suffered a twinge of doubt about the certainty of continuing Hectare hegemony here. Magic was a game that could change the rules of any other game!

Brown recovered. “Something has come up. I am to be Purple’s second in a game against a Hectare.”

The lip pressure came again, so again he spoke the obvious. “A game against a Hectare! But don’t they make natives—?” He broke it off deliberately, as he wasn’t sure how much Tsetse would know.

“Aye. Needs must we help Purple win. Now come.” He followed her out of the chamber and out of the castle itself. A small airplane waited there, and Citizen Purple was there, in his purple robe. “You can keep your clothing. Brown,” he said as they climbed in, “but she’s a serf.”