From TaurList@aol.com Wed Nov 20 12:29:03 1996
Date: Thu, 7 Nov 1996 22:11:51 -0500
From: TaurList@aol.com
Subject: GN THE FALL 

Subject:     GN THE FALL 
Sent:        11/07  1:10 PM
Received:    11/07  6:57 PM
From:        Serendi136, Serendi136@aol.com
To:          TaurList@aol.com

HI there, I am the one who was trying to make my graphic novel available  
Sorry, but the scanner is down again.  In the mean time, I have included 
the beginning of another story later on in the series.   The first 
chapter, by no means, is finalized or edited (Gramatical errors and type 
o's ect.).  I am open to story suggestions.  There isn't a title either.

  Chapter 1



 The sun was sinking low on th horizon, soft orange light settling over 
the castle.  In this light, what was left of the rose marble from years 
past speckled it's surface like blazinf red jewles.  The castle had 
settled though, it's inhabitants weary from the celebration, like the 
rest of the country perhaps of Talin.  Human maids, and their centaurian 
counterparts silently made their way through the halls, tending to what 
ever superficial chore that needed to be done.   They too exhausted from 
the day, showed the marks of good cheer around the face.  Those that 
remembered however, that fateful day of revolution wore sombre, 
reflective visages-eyes cast down and distant, mouths relaxed, either in 
a remissive smile or gentle frown.  A day of memorial to them, and to the 
others, a day of celebration.  Now, however, the day had ended, and the 
night was dedicated to sleep, and revelations if it were possible.   The 
humans would rest comfortably, thankful for a day of good eating and 
entertainment, and the usual drawn out speeches of a practically 
irrelevant topic.  Not to leave the impression that they did not care for 
them, they simply did not find the emotional turbulence it stirred 
withing the hearts of their equine companions.  The centaurs, however, 
listened intently to everyword retelling the story of a farm boy destined 
to be the emperor, and giving his life to free his people.   THose who 
rememebered wept, large tears of a mixture of joy, and sorrow for the 
plight of the youth.  
 And so it had gone for many years past in this tradition of 
Independence,  to the day of the death of a Hero and a Villain.  It was a 
day of joy and sorrow.  All in all, however, the castle's crew had 
decided that it had been an average success.  Measured by the turn out of 
people, and how much sympathy and emotions was stirred by the oratories.  
If the food had beed in good timing, and well prepared, and if the 
Emperor and Empress, who usually gave the speeched were pleased with the 
recieving of such an important event.  If the music was appropriate and 
well played, and whether or not the jesters were humorous of out of 
taste, so on and so forth.  Thus, leaving the castle, in a spent way, at 
the setting of the sun.
 To one human woman walking quickly down the hall, none of the criteria 
of a success mattered to her.  Not the people, or the tears, the food or 
the music.  All were just as irrelevant as the next.  To her, it was 
simply that they remembered.  
 She was one to notice, for certain, as the servants turned and bowed or 
curtsied, murmurring their repsect to her as she whisked by them.  She 
kept her head and chin high, holding her dress of blue velvet off the 
ground so she would not trip on it.  Her hair, seeming to show the first 
of greying flew wildly behind her in careless whisps.  The years, it 
seemed were kind enought to leave her face with the marks of youth about 
it.  No wrinkling had occured, but lining had.  They were not deep 
creases of a bothersome old maide, but fine lines about her forhead of 
worry and stress most assumed.  Grey eyes still sparkled with the 
momentum of life, but something behind it proved to be a hidden secret 
self that remained so dark and private that not even her bosom friend, 
the Emperor knew.  
 The day had worn on her as well, like a heavy cloak for winter, as she 
trudged through it.  A blanket of dark mornful memories of grieving, 
being widowed with two children to care for.  Losing her love to a war 
she still had not yet understood, and his youth as well.  Her dead 
husband, although proclaimed to be a national hero, was young, 
vulnerable, and not ready for such a huge responsibility.  Not ready to 
be looked upon as a leader.  He should have never been lead to such a 
fate.
 No matter, however, what was done was done, and she, Empress Catherine 
of Arygon was anticipating an arrival.  
 "Mother!"  a youthful voice called, and she looked up sharply smiling as 
she stopped.  
 "What are you doing about, Val?"  she asked the young blond man.  
Something was about him tonight, his usually cheerful demeanor had  grown 
slightly melencholy as if the celebration for him had been just as 
painful as it was for the centaurs.  It was, in a way only his mother 
understood.  One would not have to look hard to notice his almost human 
appearance was out of place, from the nearly pointed ears, and nearly 
slanted brilliantly blue eyes, his bulky humaness was overidden by a 
tendancy to have long graceful limbs as well.  A fine stubble on his chin 
that would never grow into a beard remained a constant reminder to her 
and to himself that he neither belonged with the humans or the centaurs.  
A half-breed of the rarest kind.  Elf and human, a mixture only common on 
Talin to himself, and as far as she knew to the neighboring Prismania as 
well.  The holiday had always been a difficult one for him, not knowing 
how he tied into the whole thing, and what sort of feelings he ought to 
be harvesting.  Catherine always went out of her way to make him feel as 
if he belonged.
 The youth shrugged, crossing his arms, "I thought I might drink with my 
friends under the table."  Although an outcast in appearance, his stature 
as prince had given him some chance to make a friend or two among the 
courtiers.  "Where are you off to in such a hurry?  You look a common 
serving wench off on call."
 "Val!"
 "Well, it's true."  he said smuggly with a smile.
 "I have some pressing business at the other end of the castle."  she 
replied.
 "What business?"
 "I forgot to do something."  she replied vaguely.  "If you will excuse 
me."
 "What?"  he pressed with an impish smile.
 "Something."   she said firmly.
 "Now, mother, there would not be a male caller in you room is there?"
 "Nothing of the sort,"  she confirmed turning from him, "I am shocked 
that you would even think of such a thing."
 "Not one of those flippant suitors that have been hanging about the 
castle for the gods know how long.  Really mother, you deserve much 
better than that."  he clucked softly.
 "I would not even think of it,"  she replied, "I am not a widow."
 He smiled, "Are you feeling better than yesterday?"  he asked with 
sudden concern.
 "Oh, yes."  she replied.  A lie, she knew, not something you usually did 
with her sons.  The aching pain in her chest had, if anything, gotten 
worse.  At night, sometimes, she had terrible coughing fits that even a 
drink of water could not subdue.
 Val flashed her an unsure smile, and she kissed him on the cheek, "Go 
on, love, get drunk, have a wonderful time."
 "Goodnight mother."  he called as she walked steadily away from him.  
Patting her chest, she admitted two short coughs.  A spring cold, she 
decided, nothing unusual about that.  The dull pain in her chest told her 
heart otherwise. 
 She turned the corner in the torch lit halls, where first of the stars 
could be outside of the window.  With quicker steps now, she hurried, 
toward the end, and dashed up a twisting stair case about six feet wide.  
The Arygon castle was unusual to most castles as you and I may know.  
Halls , doors and staircases were made wider to accomodate the large 
centaurs moving through them.  Even the Prismanian castles halls had been 
adjusted.  The whole appearance, with high ceilings and large open spaces 
gave Arygon's catle more of a cathedral look.  Massive pillars speckled 
large rooms to support the tall ceilings.
 At the top of the stairs, two set of doors stood on opposite sides of 
the wall.  One with the symbol for the Emperor, and the other, the 
Empress.  Outside the Empress's door, stood a weathered elderly man, with 
a youthful appearance in his eyes.  His silver hair was still thick and 
illustrous, and he still wore the armor of the knights.
 "Geoffrey?"  she asked raising her eyebrows.  The knight gave her a 
small secret smile and nodded.  
 He opened the door for her, "They will be arriving as soon as they think 
it is safe fro him."  he whispered.  She walked into the darkened room, 
as Geoffrey went about lighting the candles one by one.    She waited 
untill she was sure they were burning well, and walked over to the large, 
shuttered windows. Opening the shutters and the windows, she waited 
looking out into the starry night with wonder.
 Geoffrey shut the door, as it creaked and moaned.  As soon as it shut, 
his skin began to melt and shift.  The silver hair twisted, and seemed to 
writhe.  The color brightened and then darkened to a brown.  When he 
turned, the old wrinkles had disappeared, looking about twenty years 
younger than he had.
 "I will never understand,"  she said solemnly, "Why you return to that 
form when it  is not your truest form at all."
 He shrugged, smiling, "It is the one I like best."  he winked and looked 
to the window, "You would like to see my true form wouldn't you?"
 Catherine nodded, but a look of criticalness crossed her brow as she 
thought about this, "You tease, you would never show me."^G "You know me 
too well."  he exclaimed reclining on the chair.   He began to drum his 
fingers on his breastplate, a hollow ecoing thuds resounding shortly.  "I 
think," he began seriously, "that Sir Randolph is getting mighty old, 
Catherine."  He often referred to his other identities as if they were 
characters in a play.  Even the name she  used with him, Geoffrey, he 
sometimes referred to as "Sir Geoffrey ought to have been, or gone..."  
and so forth.  This irked her to some degree, but his comment now 
concerned her. 
 "What are you suggesting?"  she asked warily.    
 "If he lives much longer, people might get suspicious of witchcraft."  
Geoffrey said.
 "Then are you to die and leave me?"
 "No, your Majesty-"  he said, then looked up and said thoughtfully, "I 
thought he might go peacefully in the night.  Then another would step 
forward to take his place.  One that you appointed yourself."
 "How will I know it is you?" she asked quickly.
 "I shall tie a black band about my right arm.  When you see this, you 
will make your choice."
 "When?"
 "I was thinking in a day or so."  he said, then glanced out the window 
again.  Then he walked to the chair, and sinking into it slowly.  
Catherine backed up from the window and sat in on the bed.  The feathery 
mattress sank and puffed about her.  A comfortable bed, but often a 
lonely one.  Not tonight, however.  Tonight would be different from her 
normal drudgery.  She curled her legs up onto the bed, and underneath her 
dress, and fastened her eyes on the bright orb hangin in the sky.  The 
moon was cradled, by a dozen or so winking stars clustered about it.  The 
constellation was one that someone had told her a very long time ago, but 
now the memory was lost.  It was unimportant in the long run, yet the 
name would lay just off the tip of her tongue.  Each moment she tried to 
grasp at it, it slipped and fell further way.  Puh-. ..Pil- It was 'p' 
something.  That she was almost positive.  Yet this clue was simply not 
good enough.  As she turned this over.  She did suddenly realized that 
her eyes were closing.  
 No!  Must stay awake.
 Catherine forced her eyes open, and focused on the constalation of seven 
stars.    What was it supposed to be?  A cow?  No, no that was not right, 
a deer?  Deer, yes, stag.  A stag.    Still the name eluded her.    The 
moon was gently settled in the Stags antlers, representing the earth.  
What was that name???  Pruh....pruh....?
 Promithon
 Yes, yes, that was it.  Promithon, the Stag.  With her heart fluttering 
in relief, Catherine did not realize that she had fallen fast asleep.   
 Something warm fell on her shoulder, and Catherine jerked awake with a 
start.  Her heart fluttered for a moment, and then realized it was a 
gentle hand squeezing her shoulder.  Before she turned over, a smile had 
already spread across her face.   Geoffrey smiled, "They are here."  he 
whispered.
 Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she quickly stood.  In the window, a 
figure was climbing in.  It was of a very tall, muscular blond woman.  
She nimbly leapt to the floor and then greeted Catherine with a smile.   
She quickly stepped to Geoffrey extending her hand to shake his for arm.
 "Good evening, brother!"  she exclaimed.
 "And sister."  he replied with a dazzling grin.
 "Are you ready to go?"  Olgna asked, "Brother Valdimare is anxious to be 
alone with his wife."
 Geoffrey, nodded, and stepped up on the window ledge, he turned back to 
Catherine, who stood with her hands clasped at her breast in 
anticipation.  "Sir Randolph will be outside your door tomorrow at dawn, 
your Majesty."
 "That will do fine," she said with quick exaperation as he ducked out of 
the window.  Olgna gave her a small respectful nod with her head, "Little 
mother."
 The giantess was also gone in a whisper.  Moments after they had ducked 
out, a third figure climbed in, his long sinuey limbs pulling him up onto 
the stone sill.  Strong legs were tucked in, and the swung over the edge 
into the room.  The man carelessly brushed his long auborn hair off of 
his shoulder.  Deep saphire eyes fixed on hers, as he smiled, perfect 
white teeth.  The narrow face was not human, cheek bones strongly 
pronounced, and the almond shape eyes slanting sharply -almost feline if 
anything.  His garment was simple brown flax wrapped about his arms and 
legs almost snuggly.
 The man glanced over his shoulder out the window, "We are alone, 
Catherine."
 "I don't want to jump to quickly into things,"  she said with a smile, 
"We have all night to be with one another."  She coughed lightly, it 
rattling and thudding in her chest with dull uncomfort.
 He jumped down from the window, "So,"  he began towards her, "how was 
your day?"
 "Hard."  she replied wrinkling her nose, she breathed in with 
exasperation, "Not only for the obvious, but for other reasons as well.  
It gets hard on your son, Valdimare."
 Valdimare stopped at this and frowned, "Yes, that is something I wanted 
to talk to you about."
 "Not this-"  she said wearily, holding up her hands in defense.
 "Your promised,"  he reminded her sternly, "You promised me on his 
twenty-first birthday you would tell him about me.  He needs to know."
 "I'll do it." Catherine said flickering her eyes about the room, "but it 
isn't as easy as-" 
 "When?"  the elf said with a hint of frustration, "I do not want him 
going through life thinking his father was somesort of vagrant who abused 
you."  He suddenly stopped himself as soon as those words left his mouth. 
 "I'm sorry."
 "Do not be, it is long in the past."  she said sharply, "But you are not 
the one raising him, you cannot just tell him like-"
 "You promised you would do it, and I am counting on you, Cat."  he 
raised his hands and shook his head, "I don't want to talk about this any 
longer.  I have said what I needed, and will leave it at that.  Tonights 
our night."
 Catherine reached forward and took his hands, "So, what have you 
planned?"
 "What have I planned?" he chuckled, "You do not want to do what I have 
planned."
 "No, I said, not yet.  There is a world of difference." she said, "How 
is the Tribe?"
 "Same old same old."  he replied, "Frighteningly dull lately.  Things 
seem fairly peaceful.  Shanai keeps after me."
 "Oh,"  Catherine said softly, her heart clutching.
 "I do not know what they cannot understand about me abstaining from 
copulating with them.  Shanai knows, yet she persists.  Eternity is going 
to be extremely aggravating."  He spun around and sat on the bed.  
Catherine stroked down a lock that had become mistrued on his head, as he 
leaned his chin in his hand, his elbow resting on the nightstand.  
 "I love you,"  Catherine whispered, stroking his cheek.   She coughed 
again, turning her head.  Valdimare looked up quickly.
 "Are you feeling well?" he said arching his eyebrows.
 "It's just a cold."  she reassured him, "A late spring cold."
 "Take care of yourself,"  he said, "You realize I cannot help you, don't 
you?"
 She nodded, "Aye,"
 "I am not ready to lose you."  he said taking her hands from his face 
and squeezing them firmly.  "I already am going to have so many years 
without you.  Don't be a fool Catherine, please, for my sanity."
 "You know I love you."  she repeated sitting next to him.
 Valdimare nodded his head slowly, then smiled, "Our daughter is asking 
of you, she wants me to bring you to the Tribe so she can meet you."
 "Merideth wants to see me?"  she said with disbelief.
 "Most certainly,"  he said, then sighed, "She reminds me of you more 
everyday."
 "I don't see why I cannot.  It is not like I have never been with the 
Tribe before."
 Valdimare scratched his chin, "I don't know,"  he said, "I will have to 
bring it up at council."
 Catherine leaned forwad and kissed his cheek, smelling the warm 
cleanliness about him.  Valdimare turned his head and brushed his dry 
lips against hers, light and fleeting.  Then more firmly, grasping the 
back of her head, his arms wrapping about her. Something in his kiss 
energized her, filling her with youthful spirit.  Catherine knew it was 
not merely the spirit of the moment, but actual physical pains 
disappated, from the slight headache she had to the swelling in the 
joints of her fingers. 
 And they wonder how I stay so young!
 The thought amused her, often being approached by aging woman on how she 
perserved her youth.  Catherine always replied with a mysterious smile 
and said "Thinking young."  The women generally left her, at the very 
least with a bit of hope. Catherine slid her hands up his chest and 
pushed on him firmly, "Not yet,"  she repeated, "We have time."
 Her husband let her go, patiently and looked on her as if she were the 
only thing in the world her could look at in that way.  More however, 
rested behind those eyes, however.  It was a seemingly calm restraint, 
but underneath, Catherine knew, he struggled to restrain the Spirit from 
surfacing, taking control of his reasoning and emotions.  When Valdimare 
had first had his rebirth  into the Tribe, his transformation into the 
Spirit were rapid.  Unpredictable, even violent at times, it was 
neccessary for him to master his emotions, and control the Spirit.  He 
had, but not as well as Geoffrey and Olgna, his older, veteran 
companions.  Since the Spirit was specifically sensitive to the emotions, 
rage, agony, joy, lust - even when they wanted to be together, it was a 
constant battle within to repress it.  
 Catherine greatly admired him for it, for he did it for her.  With those 
of the Tribe, it was as natural as eating, and sleeping, but for 
Catherine.   Love could be quite dangerous for her, but Valdimare made 
the effort so they could be with one another.  Briefly, she thought she 
had seen a glimmer of red in his blue eyes, but it faded as quickly as it 
had appeared.  If the Spirit did surface, he might be forced to leave, 
not returning for several months again.  
 "Do you want to go outside?"  he said,  "Or we could just sit here and 
stare at each other for a while."^G "Where will no one see us?"
 "I thought the gardens were deserted when we flew over."
 "They might be."  she said, "But how will we get down there?  I doubt 
the halls are empty."
 Valdimare stood, and took her hand, and pulled her to her feet.  Leading 
Catherine to the window, he nimbly lept up and whistled.  From somewhere 
below, a huge, sleek figure snaked out of the shadows on two leathery 
wings.  It hovered just by the window, a massive serpentine head, with a 
stiff spikey main turned to them.  The eyes, showed a depth of knowledge 
and understanding, that could pass off as merely indifference.  Valdimare 
nimbly lept onto its back, and the serpent went closer to the window.  
Offering his hand, Catherine refused his help, the youthful energy 
teeming through her limbs, made a catlike leap from the window.  With a 
brief moment of freefall, she landed solidly, yet with grace onto the 
dragons back.  Valdimare knelt down, and held out his hand to her.        
      
   
From abilling@tfs.net Wed Nov 20 12:29:08 1996
Date: Fri, 8 Nov 1996 16:53:35 -0600
From: Allen Billings <abilling@tfs.net>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: TBP:NK: The Darkest Night, pt. 6

          Night Knights: The Darkest Night, part six (TBP)

     "Why didn't you want me to see the crime scene?" He glanced 
at her sharply. She hadn't spoken since they'd gotten into the 
car; even now, her voice sounded as if it was only grudgingly 
used. He returned his eyes to the road in front of him, even when 
he felt her burning gaze searing holes through him.
     "I didn't think that there was any reason, since we already 
knew who we were looking for..."
     "You thought that I couldn't take it, didn't you?" 
     "'Lynne, the evidence techs were already doing their job - I 
didn't think that we should get in the way! Did you want to give 
those big, fancy defense lawyers an excuse to get the stuff 
thrown out of court?" She crossed her arms over her chest.
     "No. I just... I don't know." She glared at him. "Damn it, 
Bailey! I'm not some stupid schoolgirl. I know how to handle 
myself at a crime scene!" He stopped at a red light.
     "You haven't called me that for months."
     "I'm mad at you." He glanced at her as the light turned 
green.
     "'Lynne, there was no need for you to see that stuff. I..." 
He stopped awkwardly, running his hand through his hair before 
shifting gears. "Hell. Maybe I was trying to protect you."
     "From what? Bailey, I'm not a child, no matter how young I 
seem to you."
     "Look... I'm sorry. I care about you, 'Lynne; I don't like 
exposing you to things like this day after day." She covered her 
eyes, shaking her head.
     "No. I'm sorry. I'm already taking this too personally."
     "Hey - I've known that you take this whole protecting the 
helpless thing seriously ever since the first time that we worked 
together - remember that? And if anyone has a problem with that, 
it's the guys that you've put behind bars." She glanced at him, 
her eyes glowing with embarrassment.
     "Alain, I... What if I'm the first one to find the last guy? 
What if the way I feel about him causes me to lose control and 
transform?" He glanced at her sharply, then pulled into a parking 
lot and killed the engine.
     "What the hell are you talking about?" He grasped her upper 
arms, turning her to face him. "What do you mean, lose control 
and transform? I didn't think that you had that problem, since 
you transform every night, anyway!" She turned her head so she 
was staring out of the windshield instead of into his eyes.
     "I've never completely lost control, not really, but... I've 
come close to it." Bailey took her hand, gently pressing it 
between his.
     "How close?" She closed her eyes, whispering the answer.
     "I've nearly been incapacitated by the pain twice; usually, 
though, I can keep it to the level of a bad stomach ache. It only 
happens when I get mad enough to lose it." He sighed.
     "And I've been dense enough to miss this? "Lynne, you double 
over every time you transform - how come I didn't notice?"
     "You were always preoccupied or elsewhere, and I tried not 
to show it, because half of the time I was in the same room with 
the guy that I was reacting to." 
     "Why didn't you tell me about it afterwards?" 
     "I didn't want you to worry about it. It honestly doesn't 
happen often enough to worry about." He cupped her face in one 
hand, turning her back to him.
     "'Lynne, what if it had gone further? You know that there's 
a reason we've kept your second form secret! The last thing that 
either of us needs is for you to be hassled by the press and the 
bigots you've kept from doing damage."
     "Do you think that I don't know that?! Alain, I've been 
spending ten hours a week at the dojo to control it! And it's 
worked..." She ducked under his gaze, blushing. "...sort of." 
Glancing at his watch, Bailey started the engine again, speaking 
as he pulled out of the parking lot.
     "I would've tried to help if you'd told me." His voice hid 
the twinge of pain he felt over her having kept something like 
this from him. "Why didn't you?"
     "Look, I just thought that I could fix it myself without 
worrying you." He made the last turn to the place where they were 
to meet Lieutenant Angus to join the search for the last member 
of the group.
     "Do me a favor - next time, worry me earlier, instead of 
right before we do something like this." Reaching out with his 
right arm, he gave her shoulders a light squeeze. "As for this 
search, we're just supposed to locate him - then we call in the 
police." She nodded, giving him a tiny smile.
     "Sounds easy enough."
     Angus arrived five minutes later, along with most of the 
other officers who had been assigned or had volunteered to the 
search; he raised an eyebrow at the uneasy distance between the 
two detectives, but said nothing, sending his men in separate 
directions. As soon as he'd sent most of the officers off, he 
turned to the two of them.
     "Is everything all right, you two? You look a little... 
upset." Ailynne shook her head.
     "We're fine - we just got into a bit of an argument on the 
way over." She glanced at Bailey. "Now - let's go and get this 
son of a bitch." Angus nodded.
     "As long as you're not going to be distracted by something 
else, I thought that you two should search in that direction." He 
indicated the street directly behind them. "Since you were such a 
great team in proving that he was the ringleader, I'm hoping that 
you'll be able to catch him, too." Bailey glanced down the 
street, grinning slowly.
     "I may already have a lead." Angus gave him a strange look. 
Ailynne seconded it as she followed him. As soon as they were out 
of the lieutenant's sight, she grabbed his arm.
     "A lead? What?" He gazed at her seriously.
     "You answer my question, I'll answer yours." She stared at 
the ground.
     "What question?" He sighed.
     "Why didn't you tell me that you were having trouble?" He 
glanced down as well. "I thought that we were partners." Her head 
snapped up, bringing her glare crashing over his shoulders.
     "Don't do this to me, Bailey - I don't need the extra 
stress. Yes, we're partners... but even partners don't tell each 
other everything. I didn't want to worry you over something that 
you couldn't help control. Why does it matter, anyway?" She 
started down the street, obviously mad again. He stared after 
her, stung by her reaction.
     "Because I care about you, you crazy broad." He'd held his 
voice to a low level; she spun around, still glaring at him.
     "What did you say?"
     "I said, my contact is on this street - you know, the one 
who helped me figure out who these guys were in the first place."
     "Let's go, then."
     When they finally entered his bar, Coolie grinned, coming 
over from the bar itself. Escorting them to a table far away from 
those of his earliest customers, he gestured to Bailey.
     "Time that you can tell me what your last visit was about?"
     "Actually, no." Bailey pulled out the chair for Ailynne. "We 
came here hoping that you could be in the last act of this 
bizarre drama. You see, we've got the suspect..." He began to 
count on his fingers. "...we've got the evidence, and we've got 
the warrant. Just one problem."
     "I'll bite." Coolie sounded resigned. "What don't you got?"
     "We don't got any idea where the guy is. Think you can 
help?" The bartender set his head on his arms, which were folded 
on the table; thinking for a long moment, he finally looked up.
     "Okay. I'll help." He shook a finger at Bailey. "But only 
because I don't like his type, or his attitude." He rose, shaking 
his head and muttering his way back to the bar. "I don't know why 
I help him... all it does is wreck my bar..." Ailynne stared at 
Bailey.
     "What's he talking about?" He sighed, grinning ruefully.
     "I'll tell you while we're setting up in his back room."

     Coolie poked his head through the door that separated his 
store room from the back room that Ailynne and Bailey were 
waiting in, grinning when he saw that she was using the spy holes 
that were replicas of the ones used in the speak easys of a 
century ago. Bailey raised an eyebrow at the bartender. "What's 
with all of this?"
     "It's for fun, mostly - some of my better customers know 
about it and like the risk that it used to represent." He 
grinned. "Of course, it's also useful for things like this and
for watching things when I'm not in the main bar." He took a deep 
breath. "Anyhow, that's not what I came back here to say - your 
target just arrived. He's nervous, not that anyone else is gonna 
notice; he's probably thinking that he can hide out here and 
avoid the dragnet." Bailey made a derisive sound.
     "Like hell." Coolie nodded.
     "I'm with you on that." 
     "Let's go." Ailynne started to brush past both of them; 
Bailey grabbed her wrist.
     "No way." He gestured to Coolie, who nodded and disappeared. 
"First, let him calm down. He'd bolt the second that he saw his 
own shadow chasing him, right now. Let me go and try to gain his 
trust."
     "How the hell are you going to do that? He's probably seen 
both of us splashed across the front pages and on the six o'clock 
news at least a hundred times..." He shhok his head.
     "I looked all over that house for evidence, and I didn't see 
so much as one actual news paper. The Wall Street Journal, yes, 
but nothing like... what is it that that radio guy you like calls 
it? The Atlanta Urinal and Constipation?" Ailynne had to struggle 
to restrain her laughter so they wouldn't be heard.
     "Damn it, not when we're trying to be quiet!" she finally 
managed to choke out. "And I'm not surprised. That rag isn't 
worth the paper that it's printed on." He grinned.
     "Not too opinionated, are you? As to the more serious matter 
at hand, you've been the one that everyone's seen - I've always 
stood back in the shadows, facing away from the camera." She 
smiled ruefully.
     "I guess you're right - we did manage to make me the public 
partner." He set a hand on her shoulder.
     "So we're partners again? Or less? Or more? Where exactly do 
we stand on that, 'Lynne?" She twisted away from him, returning 
to the spy holes.
     "We'll talk about that later. This operation is more 
important." Bailey turned away, preparing to leave the hidden 
room; as he did, he said something under his breath. She didn't 
even notice.
     "No, it's not." 
     Coolie glanced at him as he came out of the hallway that led 
to the back rooms and the restrooms; his guarded glance belied 
his professional grin. He came over as Bailey slipped onto the 
barstool beside the one that his prey was slumped on.
     "Your normal, Al?" Heavy into his Chinese immigrant act, he 
let the last letter of his last two words fall between `l' and 
`r' in sound. `Al' nodded, making a sound like a drunken mutter. 
His quarry glanced at him curiously, quietly questioning the 
bartender as he returned.
     "What's with him?" Coolie glanced at him.
     "His woman makes trouble for him. He's always here when she 
does." When the bartender left, the other man turned to `Al'.
     "Welcome to the club." `Al' turned towards him.
     "What the hell would you know about it?"
     "I know that women are more trouble than they're worth." He 
almost spat the words. "They're why I'm here, too."
     "You don't say?"

     Back in the hidden room, Ailynne watched her partner, 
wondering what he was saying. Feeling a sudden stab of pain, she 
looked down to discover that her fists were tightly clenched and 
her nails were digging into her palms. Forcing her hands to 
extend, she inwardly swore at her stress level.
     "Not now. I can't afford to transform in the middle of this 
- not now!" Trying to calm herself with a simple breathing 
exercise, she stared out at her partner, who looked like he was 
trying to gain their target's trust. "Come on, Bailey - it's not 
like we have all night..."

Another Furry on the Loose!

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From abilling@tfs.net Wed Nov 20 12:29:12 1996
Date: Fri, 8 Nov 1996 16:53:52 -0600
From: Allen Billings <abilling@tfs.net>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: TBP:Night Knights pt. 8

               Night Knights, part eight (TBP)

     Bailey stood just inside the window, shaking his head.
     "No way are you getting me out there, lady!" Ailynne grinned 
at him from the top rail of the fire escape, which her 
transformed feet were gripping tightly.
     "What's the matter - don't tell me that you're a scaredy 
cat!" Grinding his teeth at her pun, he glared at her.
     "Look - you may be safe up there... I mean, if you fall, all
you have to do is catch yourself. If I fall, on the other hand, I 
end up a nasty smear on the sidewalk!" She sighed, patiently 
holding out his half of the harness.
     "That's what this is for. Come on, Bailey! It's a hell of a 
lot safer than you trying to strangle me in a death grip in 
midair." He shook his head.
     "No way."
     "What - you'd rather risk falling every time we have to fly 
to or from a confrontation? Come on! People use these things to 
climb up ninety degree rock faces - and we're not even using the 
ropes, which are the weakest part." He sighed.
     "You're not going to give up, are you?" She grinned.
     "Well, I suppose that I could wait until you fall asleep and 
let you wake up at three hundred feet..." He climbed out the 
window, glaring at her.
     "Not a good idea." He muttered to himself as he struggled 
into the harness; most of the words that she caught were 
extremely colorful. She hid a large grin behind her hand. 
     "Look - you can even keep a hold on me until you decide to 
trust it." He turned to her, expression resigned to his fate.
     "Let's get this over with." She laughed.
     "Okay..." She glanced over the rig, raising an eyebrow. 
"Maybe we should wait 'til we're airborn to connect the two." He 
nodded.
     "Whatever you say." 

     Two hours later, he was still clinging to her waist; she 
sighed.
     "Bailey, the point of this exercise is to test the 
connections and the harness - neither of which we can do if you 
don't let go of me."
     "Remind me of why we want the damn thing to work anyway." 
She glanced down at him.
     "Do you want to have to land to take pictures or use your 
gun? If we can get you facing the ground, you can keep an eye on 
things down there while I concentrate on flying." He groaned.
     "The last thing that I want is to see how far I am from the 
ground." Abruptly going into a spinning dive, she sped towards a 
flat rooftop. "What the hell are you doing?!" he yelped.
     "Landing. If you're not going to be any help, I can cover a 
lot more ground if I'm not carrying you."
     "How the hell am I supposed to get home?!" 
     "Well, you could climb down the fire escape and walk, since 
you like the ground so much..." He ground his teeth.
     "All right. I get the picture." She caught an updraft.
     A few moments later, Bailey loosed his grip; bringing one 
hand down from around her waist, he checked the link between her 
belt and his. He slid his other hand down her belt slowly, still 
not wanting to fully let go. Ailynne breathed a near silent 
exclamation, then swung around in midair; he yelped as he lost 
his grip on her, only to find himself securely suspended from the 
harness. He sighed. "Okay, point taken. You can quit with the 
fancy flying, now."
     "No - look!" She gestured to a large skyscraper, which was 
being illuminated by what appeared to be several flashing lights; 
the sound of the sirens seemed far away, as far up as they were. 
She glanced at him. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
     "Let's check it out." 
     Half a dozen police cruisers sat haphazardly parked on the 
street in front of the relatively short brick building across 
from the skyscraper; Ailynne alit atop another, which was still 
mostly in darkness. Bailey breathed a sigh of relief as he stood 
shakily on a solid surface. "Wonder what they're so riled about." 
Ailynne didn't move from staring over the edge of the roof.
     "Take off the harness."
     "Wha..."
     "Just do it. It could cause some awkward questions."
     "What? Why?!" Taking the harness and looping it through her 
belt, she grabbed him around the waist. "Um, what are you doing?" 
She finally turned to look at him, grinning.
     "You want to know what they're up to, right?" Giving her a 
puzzled glance, he nodded. "Then let's get a closer look." She 
leapt from their perch before he could object, holding him 
tightly to her side as she spun down towards a dark alley twenty 
yards from the back of the police line. She spread her wings just 
before they would have hit, landing as softly as a cat. Setting 
him on his feet, she gave him a shove towards the action. "Go on 
- I'll listen in from here." He stared at her half wildly.
     "What?" He was dazed from their fast descent.
     "I said go on - maybe one of us can help." She pushed him 
again. He walked slowly towards the crowd.
     Stopping just behind the closest police cruiser, he glanced 
over the closest group; seeing Angus among the others, he strode 
nearer. The sergeant saw him before he'd made it half way and 
broke away from his comrades. Seeing his face, Bailey grinned.
     "Relax, Sergeant. I'm only here to check out what rock hit 
your beehive." Angus grinned disbelievingly, laughing at Bailey's 
apt analogy. 
     "It's a textbook barricade case, really. The guy's in there 
with what the witness who called thought was a gun - the only 
reason that we haven't gone in yet is because we aren't sure that 
he's in there alone or not." Bailey shook his head.
     "What're the chances of hostages if he hasn't threatened 
them to the police?" Angus grinned. 
     "One of many arguments to proceed." The cop gave the 
detective an appraising gaze. "I still don't know why you didn't 
join the force." Bailey snorted derisively.
     "As if the rest of the force hating my guts wouldn't be bad 
enough, I'd have to work with you." Angus's grin didn't change; 
it was an old argument. "Now - what do we know about this guy? 
Would he actually threaten anyone?" Angus gave him a suspicious 
look.
     "Why do you want to know?" Bailey resisted the urge to 
glance back towards the alley.
     "I may know someone who could help..."
     "Like who? Last I heard, you don't like to hang with shrinks 
or counselors." Angus glanced towards the house. "It's just some 
guy going through a mid life crisis because his daughter's old 
enough to have moved in with someone." The detective's eyebrows 
shot skyward.
     "So that's what it is... Exactly how old fashioned is this 
guy?" Angus sighed.
     "Bailey, just because you're comfortable with your sister 
moving in with another woman..."
     "I never said that I was comfortable with it."
     "Well, he's from the old country - and the old ways. He's a 
lot less comfortable with it." Bailey gave a short laugh.
     "What part of the old country? I thought that they were 
ahead of us in this respect. At least in some places." Angus 
shook his head.
     "He's from Scotland. He came here to escape the escalation 
between the factions over there, you know, the British and the 
Irish and the ones that neither side wants to claim..." Bailey's 
eyes flashed dangerously.
     "You've got that damn straight." Angus held his hands up 
slightly, palms towards the irate detective.
     "Hey - I'm with you on that. If you haven't noticed, a lot 
of people around here could do without the British - they've 
screwed over a lot of people with their arrogance and 
imperialism; a lot of people have died to force them out of where 
they didn't belong." He gave a short laugh. "We're standing in 
one of them." Bailey sighed.
     "Sorry. That's kind of a sore subject with my family, no 
matter how long we've been in this country. So. This guy's 
Scottish..." A shadow and a brief gust of wind passed over them.
     "What the hell was that?" The sergeant stared upwards. 
"Since when do we get birds that big in the city?" Bailey spread 
his hands.
     "Hey - what choice of habitat have we given them?" Angus 
stared sharply at him.
     "Typically, a bird like that would have you wishing for your 
hunting rifle." He glanced over the other man's appearance more 
closely. "And since when do you dress up to run around the city? 
Or run around the city period?" He grinned slowly. "You've let a 
woman get a hold of you, haven't you?" Bailey turned red.
     "I have not - she's just my partner." Angus's grin slipped.
     "You mean the rumors are true?"
     "What rumors?" the detective growled. "We barely know one 
another; I decided that I could use a partner, and she's more 
than qualified." Angus shook his head.
     "Not what one of my sources said. He saw you carrying her 
into her apartment building the other night." 
     "She twisted her ankle." He breathed an inner sigh of relief 
that he'd been able to come up with something plausible; he'd 
never have lived it down otherwise. "I decided to help her in; 
does that constitute a deep relationship nowadays, or are the 
boys down at the precinct having trouble getting dates?" Angus 
laughed.
     "Hey - just checking up on you."
     "Well, don't. It's not like I'm going to take leave of my 
senses if you don't annoy me every five minutes." He glanced 
towards the house. "I hate to call your witness on this, but all 
I've seen in the window is a shillelagh."
     "A what?" Angus stared at him as if he'd grown another head.
     "A shillelagh, though it's probably called something 
different in Scotland; a carved staff. Did the witness say what 
kind of gun they thought that they saw?"
     "A rifle." Angus's voice was rueful. "He said that he saw 
the guy with something that looked like the barrel of a rifle or 
shotgun under his arm."
     ""Looked like"? In other words, it could have been bagpipes 
for all you know. And, of course, no one even thought about 
knocking on the door..."
     "No. So far, there are only uniforms on the scene; we 
thought that sight of them might provoke him into action." Bailey 
grinned.
     "I'm not."
     "You're a civilian, Bailey." Bailey grinned.
     "Of course, never mind that you're going to wind up with egg 
on your faces if I'm right. Look, most of the guys here wouldn't 
mind seeing me take a bullet, and I wouldn't mind embarrassing 
all of them by having more guts than they do - or more brains, 
whichever." Angus sighed.
     "All right, all right. maybe. I just don't want..." The door 
of the house opened. Bailey grinned.
     "I guess you're saved from making that decision."
     The man was unarmed; as Bailey had guessed, he was leaning 
heavily on a carved staff. The detective followed Angus forward. 
The man smiled apologetically as they approached.
     "She told me that I should come and tell you that all is 
well. And it is." Angus turned to gesture back the other 
officers.
     "All right, then. We'll leave the two of you. Sorry for the 
misunderstanding." Bailey stayed behind as he left.
     "A friend." He grinned. "Good things to have, when you're 
upset." The elder man laughed.
     "Aye, but I've a strange feeling that you know that better 
than I." The detective raised an eyebrow.
     "And how did you come to that conclusion?" The Scotsman 
grinned as he turned to go back inside, speaking just before he 
shut the door.
     "A little gargoyle told me." Bailey stared after him.
     A slight updraft heralded Ailynne's arrival; when he turned 
to her, she was smiling. He shook his head disbelievingly.
     "What did you say to him?" She grabbed his arm, pulling him 
back towards the alley.
     "I'll tell you when we're safely out of sight, over coffee."

Another Furry on the Loose!

Come join us and reach for the stars at
http://www.millennial.org
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From eglover@nemonet.com Wed Nov 20 12:29:26 1996
Date: Mon, 11 Nov 1996 04:14:28 -0000
From: Eddie Glover <eglover@nemonet.com>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Cc: eglover@nemonet.com
Subject: Mythical 7

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                       Mythical  7

      Chapter 12--All Together Again

     Hadley had been tracking his friends for days with Deana but had not
yet been able to catch them. 
     He crouched in the bushes as two soldiers pulled a woman back to camp
, deciding not to interfere. After skirting around the camp he found fresh
tracks.
     Even on her horse Deana couldn't catch her lover as he raced to find
his friends. Hadley burst into a clearing to see three women with a
centaur, a small man, and a middle-aged wizard. 
     The small man whipped out an energy bow and pointed it at him.
     Hadley yelled, "Rico! Wait...!', he started.
     But before Rico could hear anymore the burst of energy slammed into
his chest and sent him hurtling backwards. A lovely blonde woman was
touching his chest suddenly, and impossibly the pain from the energy blast
was subsiding!
     "Who are you?", she asked while healing his wound fully.
     "Hadley.", he groaned. Suddenly it ran through his mind who and what
this lovely healer was. "Turner!?", he screamed while pushing her away,
"Jesus! You're a woman!", he yelled.
     The older wizard frowned down at him. "Grow up Hadley.", he sighed.
"In this world form and gender can change in a moment, surely you've
tasted the joys of womanhood.", he grinned.
     "I.....swapped bodies with my lover, Deana. She is just down the
road.", he gestured weakly.
     "Sorry for shooting you bud.", Rico sheepishly said.
     Hadley got up and looked at his game-playing friends. From their game
characters he identified Ian as the wizard, Turner as the beautiful
healing woman, Rico as the small archer, and Jimmy as the huge, majestic
centaur. He saw two women of considerable beauty also present. One was a
female version of Ian, only much younger. The other was incredibly sexy
and wore a tight green dress.
     "That means one of these ladies is Tom?", he asked in confusion.
     Tom stepped closer to him and became a lovely woman looking like
Hadley. "That would be me.", she said with a smile. "I'm not a true woman
Hadley, merely a doppleganger that becomes an opposite-sexed version of
whoever I'm near.", she explained.
     Hadley was amazed at hearing his own voice, albeit much higher, come
from this woman's lips.
     "Now.", Ian smiled, "We can topple the king who caused all of this to
happen!".

      Chapter 13--Crossing Over

     Tultern held the unicorn horn in one hand and used the other to open
the weakened barrier to Earth. He'd teleported there briefly but needed
guides. The horn allowed him to physically cross a barrier that would
destroy normal flesh. He could have swapped minds with someone on Earth
but then his powers would be weak and he would lose the horn. To retain
his power he would need to enter the other dimension in the flesh, his
own. He conjured three of his servants and smiled, "You three will be
swapped into Earth bodies and will meet me when I mentally call for you.",
he instructed.
     "No! I will not allow you to....", the man stopped speaking when his
jaw jutted out.
     "Fine. Stay here, I'll make sure you're bred to my best stallion!",
Tultern laughed. 
     The confused man staggered, his hands now turned to hooves even as
his muscles altered and shifted. He screamed in pain as he was forced to
all fours. A tail grew from his ass, which seemed much wider than before.
Then everything went blank.
     Tultern created a sugar cube for the mare, "Good girl. I'll make sure
they treat you well.", he said while patting the horse.
     The mare enjoyed it's master's attention then was calm as his men led
her away.
     "Your turn.", Tultern said to the men left.
     "We....we are your servants lord.", they both replied.
     A mind swap was usually a game of chance, even with all his power
Tultern couldn't predict what bodies the two might end up in. The male
bodies spasmed as the Earth souls were sucked in. Both shrieked at their
bodies and fainted in horror.
     "Women.", Tultern realized. "Well at least there are no Rules over
there.", he groaned.
     A statis spell would keep the servants bodies safe until the return
trip. The wizard stepped into the multi-colored rift and was unharmed as
he stepped between worlds.
     He appeared in a strange place where men were drinking and naked
women were on a crude stage. Confused, he sent out a mental call for his
two servants, who should be nearby.
     A woman in a very small costume tugged his sleeve, "Master! We are
thrilled to see you!", she grinned.
     "Which are you?", Tultern asked as his eyes wandered over the woman's
nearly nude body.
     "I am Verdoc, Lintur is the one on stage.", she pointed to a
huge-breasted red-head who stepped into the lights and danced sexily.
     "You.....seem well adjusted.", he remarked in awe. 
     "The body knows all the moves, we just let it control us.", she
smirked.
     "We must find someplace to stay.", he remarked.
     Verdoc pulled a motel key out of her breast covering. "That man....",
she pointed to a chubby man amongst the other men, "Gave me the key to his
room. I figured you might take care of him once we get there.", she
grinned impishly.
     "How long have you been here, I know there is a time difference
between our worlds?", Tultern asked her.
     She sighed, "About a month, I've adjusted pretty well but
Lintur......", she shook her head.
     He nodded then looked around at the men, "What are they drinking,
wine?", he mused.
     Verdoc giggled then caught herself, "Sorry. This body makes me easily
entertained. It is called beer, here try one.", she motioned and another
woman came over and put a "beer" before him.
     Tultern sampled it and smiled, "Excellent! I'll indulge myself with
this liquid and watch the Harlots!", he grinned.
     Verdoc spat, "We are not Harlots! The Rules don't exist here!", she
yelled.
     "I'm sorry my dear.", he bowed, "Bring the man to the room and I will
be waiting.", he grinned.
     She frowned and tapped her foot, "Perhaps first I should tell you
where the motel is?".
     Tultern listened to her directions and left to find it. He would have
a few hours before Verdoc and Lintur returned with their victim. The
outside of the bar stunned him with it's wonders. Great carriages of metal
carried the people at high speeds on hard, strange looking paths.
Buildings seemed to rise into the sky and lights were everywhere. He left
the bar whistling as he'd seen another man do. This world would be one
full of wonder, yet it was too large to rule over. Even with his
heightened powers there were too many people here.

                                        


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From eglover@nemonet.com Wed Nov 20 12:29:29 1996
Date: Tue, 12 Nov 1996 00:58:28 -0000
From: Eddie Glover <eglover@nemonet.com>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Cc: eglover@nemonet.com
Subject: GBA II: Gender Files part 4

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                 GBA II
            The Gender Files part 4


     I looked at my watch as the meeting continued, we had three problems
to deal with as soon as the party wrapped up and I was wondering how we
could do all three at once!
     "James! Don't worry, we'll split up...our numbers are legion!",
Crowley laughed as she swayed up.
     I frowned, "Who goes where?", I asked.
     The Marilyn Crowley thought for a moment, "I will make contact with
our remote-wielding friends. Gina and yourself will take Bogie and stay at
Kansas Tech, and Ronnie, Trent, Gilbert, Lucas, and Travis will deal with
this Pimp character.".
     "Ronnie's a college kid, he'd be the best choice to dead with Kansas
Tech! Besides, if this guy is as powerful as you say then I'm pretty
powerful and Gina's a card-carrying witch! How about we send Lucas and
Trent to Kansas with Ronnie?", I asked.
     "Fine.", Crowley sighed, "Just be very careful. I fear this Pimp is a
sorcerer of some power!", she warned.
     I watched her walk off to tell the others and was startled when
someone grabbed my shoulder. I spun to see Gilbert standing there.
     "So Gina and you are my team?", she asked.
     "Yep. I just figured this way we have two magic-users instead of
one.", I mused.
     "Good thinking, besides I'd rather work with you guys anyway.",
Gilbert said with a grin.
     I turned my attention back to the podium, allowing the other new
recruits to take my mind off the hard road to come.
     "Excuse me.", a woman said sexily from behind me.
     I moved aside and a blonde with enormous breasts and a waist so thin
it seemed impossible swayed past. Her blonde hair fell over her gorgeous
ass and her every movement was sexual.
     "Hello.", she cooed into the microphone, "My name is Richard
Sharpe.".
     I saw a few eyes widen and I turned to Gilbert, "Is he famous?".
     The blonde-haired former cop smirked, "You should listen to the radio
more often James, Sharpe was the hottest shock jock in the country, then
he upped and disappeared a few weeks back.", she explained.
     The woman at the podium sighed, "Sorry for the breathy voice, I
really can't help it.", she explained. "The witch that zapped me said I
would become my own inner view of a woman. As you can see that was a
huge-breasted bimbo with platinum-blonde hair and curves on top of
curves!", she laughed.
     I noticed my nipples were erect and poking against the front of my
shirt, this embarassed me until I noticed that most of the women in the
crowd were similarly turned on!
     "I apparently made her mad with my show, so she changed me. Now I'm
stuck as this! To make ends meet I'm a phone sex girl, apparently my voice
turns men on.....God!", she snapped....and even that was sexy!
     Another woman then walked onto the stage, a tall brunette with large
breasts, although not freakishly so like many of the others.
     "My name was Kory Hall, my problem apparently stemmed from pissing
off my English teacher. She got mad when she caught me reading a Flash
Gordon book in class. I was stunned when later that night I suddenly
transformed into Dale Arden, the heroine of my book!", she groaned.
     She groaned, "Now I'm an actress in sci-fi movies, although I'd like
to be a man again!", she snapped.
     A buxom blonde swayed up next, "Hi guys! My name is Candy Apples, I'm
a porno star!", she laughed.
     The woman's face then fell, "Somebody help me! I'm not this
slut....slut? Who's a slut!? I'm just a hard working girl who loves a good
fu...NO! Damnit! I'm a man....okay, I've got control again!", she
snapped.
     "Multiple personalities caused by a spell.", Crowley observed while
coming up behind me.
     "Jesus Crowley!", I groaned, "Don't do that!".
     "Sorry!", she giggled, "We're ready to go, and I hired some help,
we'll need the extra bodies.", she explained.
     "Who?", I asked.
     "Well for my team I hired Mort, , Kory Hall, the kid who got turned
into a sci-fi heroine, and a young man named Bill, a victim of a
shape-changing curse. We're going after the magical remote within the
hour.", she said firmly.
     I frowned, "Who'd I get?".
     "John. You've already got a pretty full team. Put
she's...well...he'll be a man for the mission. He's athletic and has the
week off with his 'injury'.", Crowley mused.
     "And Ronnie?", I asked.
     "I'm still deciding who to send her, maybe she'd be better on her
own.", she mused.
     "Well, I'm collecting my team Crowley. Gilbert said he knows where to
go to stop this Pimp at, we'll try to be careful....you do the same.", I
warned.
     Crowley smirked, "When am I not James?", she laughed, "I think it
should be interesting, as I've said I don't think the wielder is evil.".
     I gathered my crew, then winked at Crowley and used her lightning
bolt trick. I grinned as we appeared at my house...before a naked Gina!
     "James!?", she screamed. She grabbed a towel and jumped out of the
bathtub, scowling murderously.
     "Sorry Gina, I'm still a little rusty about this magic.", I sighed.
     Gilbert had turned away, trying hard not to look at his friend's
wife. Lucas, even with his Heather Locklear body, was all but drooling.
     "Eyes off Lucas!", Gina snarled.
     Lucas chuckled but kept looking at her.
     "I warned you.", she said icily. 
     Lucas was wrapped in a spell quickly, her luscious body shifting even
as she watched. She looked down at herself, still Heather....only a
teenaged version! Her breasts shrank to nothing even as her hips slimmed.
She got smalller, younger with each moment until a confused one-year old
infant bawled in Lucas' clothing.
     "That wasn't even funny!", Gilbert snapped, "We'll need
Lucas...to....what was I saying...I forgot...giggle! John!", she laughed
upon seeing the Anna Nicole Smith clone change back into a man. "Um...you
look great lover!", she cooed.
     "Gina!", I roared, "This isn't funny!".
     I felt weird for a moment and merged with the bras that my body had
absorbed. I felt so light suddenly then I WAS the bra! Although still
aware I floated down to the ground, now a lacy white bra.
     Travis and John knew something was wrong now, and Travis punched Gina
in the face....only to see her smile.
     "Surprised!?", she laughed. A gesture and both Travis and John began
to change. John fell to all fours even as Travis followed, both quickly
transforming into cats that she leashed.
     I felt a hand pick me up and laugh, "Oh James! Don't fret! Your
lovely wife didn't betray you!".
     The female voice I heard began to change, growing more
masculine.....becoming male!
     "Hello James, I am the one your little group was destined to stop!
Now with all of you out of the way my plan can continue!", he laughed.
     His hand began to change, apparently without his knowledge. I would
have grinned if I still had lips, my touch curse affected him quickly,
changing him into a version of me....and allowing me a moment to break his
spell.
     I was human again, although still the female I'd been for some time.
I saw a buxom brunette glaring at me, looking like she wanted to rip my
head off.
     "What have you done!?", she screamed, "I can't break this
spell....I'm stuck!", she roared.
     Rather than speak I punched her in the nose, knocking her down. 
     "Stop!", she growled, "Unless you wish your wife to be lost!", he
laughed.
     "What are you talking about?", I asked.
     "Check the tub, I pulled the plug, your wife is now an inch tall, the
suction should pull her into the pipes within the minute.", she grinned.
     I didn't even stop to think it over and ran to the tub. Indeed there
was Gina, now roughly the size of an insect, being pulled towards the
drain. I grabbed her small form and turned, hoping to still catch the
bastard.
     I noticed that Gilbert and Lucas, still a baby, were still
here....but the others....
     "He's got them!", I snapped.
     "Who?", Gina asked, I could barely hear her even with her before my
face.
     "John and Travis. He turned them into cats then took them. This is a
lot more serious than I thought.", I said with a frown.
     I concentrated and Gina began to grow, but only to the size of a
Barbie doll. Similarly I was able to make Lucas a  six-year old Heather
and Gilbert a dim-witted, but still in control babe.
     "Now what?", Gina sighed, sitting on my hand in dejection.
     "Now we get Crowley, we'll need help for this.", I said firmly.



* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to "Eddie Glover" <eglover@nemonet.com> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
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From Posti@aol.com Wed Nov 20 12:29:58 1996
Date: Thu, 14 Nov 1996 17:31:37 -0500
From: Posti@aol.com
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: Story - Summer Rerun

Here's something for Josh

********************************
Summer Rerun
By Bob Stein

Josh groped for the alarm clock, muttering a couple of choice words as he
tried to hit the 'snooze' button.  Bad enough that he'd gotten to bed late,
but the buzzer had interrupted a really nice dream.

Failing to find the button by feel, he sat up groggily and turned the damned
alarm completely off.  It was tempting to lie back down, but he knew if he
did, he'd be late for work.  So he kicked off the covers and trudged into the
bathroom.  He didn't even bother turning on the light as he drained last
night's beer and sodas.  This was one target he could hit blindfolded.

His bladder emptied, he moved to the sink and turned on the hot water.  Josh
had a routine he went through every morning.  Get up, piss, wash face, shave,
brush teeth, take shower, get dressed, go to work.  As he lathered up his
hands, he realized with disgust that the rest of his day could be patterned
just as easily.  Drive to work, get coffee, sit at desk, eat lunch, sit at
desk, go home, fix dinner, watch TV, go to bed.  He wasn't just in a rut.  He
WAS a rut.

Last night's dream came to mind, and he smiled as he spread soap on his face.
 Not even anything exciting there.  It was hard to remember clearly, but he'd
been playing softball, riding a bike, running away from some kid in a game of
tag.  Pretty much the normal things he used to do as a boy.  Summertime.
 That's what the dream had been about.  One of his childhood summers.

He thought about the cold, blustery weather waiting outside and grimaced.  No
wonder he was dreaming about warm, clear days.   And this was just the start
of winter.   Depressed again, he finished washing up.

As he soaped around his nose, there was a stinging pain.  Curious, he leaned
towards the mirror for a better look.  Damn!  He had a zit on his left
nostril!  One of the big, juicy ones he'd had when he was a teenager.
 Disgusted, he popped it with his fingernails, and used a cloth to clean the
bleeding sore afterwards.  What the Hell had caused that?  He hadn't had
pimples in years.  Pimples and gray hair made a really bad combination.

Except he didn't notice any gray hairs this morning.  That was unusual.
 Maybe he'd plucked them all out.  They really stood out in his dark brown
mop, and he sometimes went after the offending strands with tweezers.  Well,
there would be more.

Josh shaved and brushed his teeth almost on auto pilot, thinking about the
coming day at the office.  It wasn't until he rinsed his mouth out that he
actually noticed his reflection looked different.  Was he losing weight?
 Despite having slept only a few hours, he looked more rested and refreshed
than he had for a long time.  

His gloomy mood improved a bit, and got better as he lathered his chest.  He
really was losing weight!  He hadn't been doing anything drastic, but maybe
switching from candy-bars to those no-fat pretzels for snacks made a bigger
difference than he thought.  Not that he'd ever been fat.  It was just that
he'd developed a slight bulge around the middle.  It was completely gone. 

By the time he finished his shower and dried off, he was actually feeling
pretty chipper.  Taking a chance, he dug into the back of his closet and
pulled out some favorite old clothes he hadn't been able to get into for a
couple of years.  And was delighted to find that they fit perfectly.

>From the comments at work, it was obvious that his weight loss was noticeable
to others as well.  Just about everybody made some sort of compliment, saying
how much better he looked.  His attitude didn't go unnoticed, either.  At
least four people asked what kind of drugs he was on, so they could get some
for themselves!

The day passed pretty quickly, even his normal boring work seeming to be more
interesting.  He was annoyed at himself for making some really stupid
mistakes a couple of times, but none of them were anything serious.  He'd
just forgotten a couple of the newer procedures.

For the first time in years, he broke his normal routine.  Instead of going
home, he stopped by one of the local bars for a drink.  The bartender scowled
at his driver's license after surprising Josh by demanding ID.  First time
he'd been carded in several years.  Guess a few pounds really made a
difference.

He stared at himself in the mirror behind the bar.  Between the lost weight,
and hair that had gotten longer than he usually wore it, the guy hefting the
beer back at him did look pretty young.  Then he frowned, leaning closer and
squinting.  What the Hell?  A reddish spot on his reflection's forehead was
tender to the touch.  Another zit?  Damn!  He hoped he wasn't going to have
another bout of acne like he'd suffered as a teenager.  It had taken special
cremes, washing four or five times a day with medicated soap, and a really
strict diet to prevent the skin blemishes from leaving permanent damage.

Despite the pimple, his mood stayed high.  And he didn't want to go home yet.
 So he drove over to the mall.  That was unusual for him.  He usually hated
the huge, crowded places, but tonight was different.  Wandering around, he
had to grin at the looks he got from some girls who were obviously still in
high school.  Jail bait.  Guess they were into older men.

Josh was a little surprised to realize he had a slight buzz.  From one lousy
beer?  That stuff must be pretty potent.  He wasn't drunk, really, just
feeling sorta silly.  On a lark, he went into one of the clothing shops,
thinking about buying some new jeans.  The salesman was a kid, probably still
in college.  Some of the stuff he showed Josh was wild, probably what the kid
wore himself when he was off duty.  And Josh was just drunk enough to buy a
complete outfit, including tennis shoes which cost more than his last suit.  

As the kid rang up his credit card, Josh almost laughed at himself in the
mirror.  God!  Between the clothes, the lost weight, and his shaggy hair, he
looked even younger than the salesman!   It seemed really strange, but if
anything, he felt even drunker than before.  So he wore the stuff out of the
store, carrying his business stuff in the shopping bag.

Still not ready to go home, he walked all over the mall, finally stopping in
a big video arcade.  Although it had been years since he played, he found a
couple of old favorites and quickly remembered the tricks that had made him
an ace player.  His skill won him an audience of kids, who introduced him to
some newer games.  Despite his buzz, he got the hang of the multiple-control
fighting stuff, and had a line of kids waiting to try beating him by the time
the mall closed.

The alarm again.  Josh woke up and stretched, fully awake immediately.
 Sitting up, he slapped the off button and rubbed his eyes.  What a weird
dream.  As he jumped out of bed, he stumbled over something unfamiliar.
 Tennis shoes.  Fancy, expensive tennis shoes.  Bewildered, he looked around
the floor and saw a brightly patterned shirt and some really small-looking
jeans crumpled in a pile.  

Maybe it hadn't been a dream.  The clothes, the video arcade.  And the girl?
 There was a hazy memory of some buxom kid who couldn't have been more than
16.  Shit!  Josh thought frantically.  Had he given anyone his name?  What
the hell had he been thinking, playing around with a minor?  He could go to
jail!  No more beer after work, that was for damn sure!

Preoccupied with his thoughts, he went through the normal routine until
several spots on his face began to sting under his lathered hands.
 Remembering the zit on his forehead, Josh wiped off the soap and frowned.
 It was still there all right.  With a lot of company.  And there were other
sores under the soap on his cheeks.  Damn!  Shaving was going to be a
problem.

Or maybe not.   He stared at himself after rinsing the rest of his face off.
 Angry red pimples dotted his cheeks and chin, but they were the least of his
concerns right now.  He didn't have any whiskers.  There was hair on his face
and upper lip, but it was a fine, almost invisible down.  And his hair had
grown out at least an inch over night, covering the top half of his ears and
his forehead in a thick mane.

He brushed aside the brown strands covering his ears.  No sideburns, either.
 Swallowing hard, Josh stepped back from the mirror and looked down.  His
body was slender, almost thin, and devoid of all body hair except for a
modest patch around his crotch.  His legs suddenly got weak, but he managed
to sit down hard on the toilet seat instead of hitting the floor.

It took a moment before he was steady enough to stand again, and even then he
gripped the sink with white-knuckled hands.   For the first time, he really
looked at his reflection.  There was a kid looking back at him from the
mirror.  A very frightened and confused boy who might be 17 on his next
birthday.  But not the face of a stranger.  Every painful zit, the soft chin,
even the shaggy, unkempt hair were as familiar as the photo on his first
driver's license.  

It was easy calling in sick.  Especially when he was forced to whisper to
disguise a voice that was half an octave higher that it had been yesterday.
 The funny thing was, he was more concerned about what was going on in his
head than the changes to his body.  Because he was thrilled.  The idea of
being a kid again was wonderful.  Problem was, it was also impossible.  Which
meant that he was going crazy.  

After a while, he snagged onto the idea that he'd been slipped some drugs
last night.  Of course!  That explained everything.  The strange feelings.
 Realistic hallucinations.  Probably one of those damned hoodlums from the
arcade slipped him something in a drink, or a hot dog.  And the drugs had
worked with his recent dreams of being a kid.

Hanging onto that explanation, he stayed in the apartment the rest of the
day, trying to focus on the TV instead of his altered body.  After
channel-hopping for an hour, he settled on some cable network with a lot of
cartoons and stuff.  Nickelodeon.  Well, he'd heard of it.  And the news
stuff on other channels was a little hard to follow.  Besides, all Josh
wanted to do was wait out this stupid hallucination.

It was dark when he woke up.  The TV was still on, showing some sort of
info-mercial on weightlifting equipment.  The dream had been really clear
this time.  Still the same memories of himself as a young kid, only this time
they had been almost real.  He could almost remember the smell of his old
softball glove, the feel of the bike seat as he pedaled around the
neighborhood he'd grown up in.

And then he remembered why he had fallen asleep on the floor.  A quick check
of his forehead detected only smooth skin.  Not a single zit.  His relief was
tempered with a bit of irrational disappointment.  He grinned to himself as
he struggled up and padded into the bathroom, relying on memory in the
darkness.  Even if it was just a drug-induced hallucination, it had been
sorta fun seeing himself as a kid again.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sprinkling of liquid on his legs.  What
the Hell?  Groping for the light switch, he had to reach a lot higher than
expected.  Even before the light came on, he knew what to expect.  Sure
enough, the side of the toilet and floor had urine on them where he had
missed the opening.  There was another pool of urine forming in front of him,
as the obviously pre-pubescent organ between his legs continued to drain his
bladder.  Oblivious to the loss of body control, Josh turned slowly to the
mirror, having to stretch up on his tiptoes to see himself.

Elementary school stared back at him.  Third grade, maybe.  Tiny nub of a
nose, almost no chin.  Huge ears and eyes.  He knew this face well.  It was
the one from his dream.  

The mirror seemed to cloud for a moment, though his image remained sharp.
 Walls and fixtures blurred slightly, and he blinked to clear what looked
like double vision.  Even the mirror itself was overlaid with a ghost image,
the faint outline of a more ornate, sliding mirror instead of the plain
swing-out one of his apartment.

The new images were as familiar as the face.  The bathroom of his parent's
old house.  The one that had seen him grow from Kindergarten through high
school.  A window was forming behind him, showing not the dark cold winter
night which should have been outside his apartment wall, but a bright, warm
summer morning.  

Josh blinked, and the two different bathrooms switched perspective.  The
older place was sharper now, with his apartment becoming the ghost image.
 And there was a ghost image in the mirror now.  An adult face overlaying the
more solid reflection of an 8 year-old boy.

He could feel the link with the ghostly images, and when he tried to focus on
them, the rooms flip-flopped again.  He was still a boy, but as he continued
to concentrate on the adult face it grew sharper, more real.

"Josh?"  He stiffened suddenly at the faint but familiar voice which came
from outside the older bathroom's door.  His mother's voice.  "Are you going
to spend your whole summer vacation in the bathroom?"

A good question.  And one for which he suddenly knew the answer.  "Be out in
a second, Mom!"  He blinked as the room seemed to flicker.  Had there been
something there a moment ago?  Then he shrugged and ran back to his room.
 Summer was here, and he hoped it would last forever.  

The End

* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to Posti@aol.com .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
------ The discussion list for the Transformation Story Archive ---------
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From mbnels@hotmail.com Wed Nov 20 12:30:02 1996
Date: Thu, 14 Nov 1996 23:26:26 +0000
From: Mike Nelson <mbnels@hotmail.com>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk <tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at>
Subject: New Story-Navajo Wolf

    [The following text is in the "iso-8859-1" character set]
    [Your display is set for the "US-ASCII" character set]
    [Some characters may be displayed incorrectly]

I know, I was supposed to post the rest of Galactic, but hey folks, all 
the copywright stuff that has been going on has scared me a little with 
this particular story so I don't think I will be posting the next 
part-unless you send me a private e-mail and ask for it.

Sorry to be a jerk, but I hope to make something of that someday.

Anyway, all that aside, I do have a new story to post, and hope you'll 
enjoy it. 

Set in my current location, I am a high school teacher and have noticed 
a few things about the kids around here.  Enjoy!

---
Navajo Wolf

Jesse ran, heart pounding, breath wheezing with a stitch in his side 
that threatened to stop him in his tracks.  He chanced a look over his 
left shoulder,whipping his long black hair over his right. The men were 
still chasing him, and gaining.  Enough of these games, it was time to 
lose them.

He scrambled up and over the sagging chain link fence he had been 
following, and dodged into the telephone pole place, weaving in and out 
between the poles erected at different angles to form the old ROTC 
obstacle course.  Near the last pole in the jungle, he stopped, molding 
his back to the pole.
He held his breath preventing the men from hearing him, and listened as 
they chugged closer.

They ran by without noticing him.  He stole around the opposite side of 
the pole, wove back through the jungle, and leaped the fence again, 
heading back in the direction he had come.  Looking over his shoulder he 
could see the men had stopped and were searching the tumbleweeds at the 
side of the track for him.

He laughed, as he turned down the short road towards the hospital 
housing development.  As he passed the first set of apartments he slowed 
down to a walk to not attract any more attention.  Just another bro' out 
for a stroll, he thought.

He swung his arms and shoulders, rolling in the ideal gangsta gait he 
had perfected in the past. Didn't want to stick out from the rest of the 
crowd.

He wiped his brow across the sleeve of the black long sleeved t-shirt he 
was wearing, and scratched the side of his half shaved head, smoothing 
the wedge of hair growing down the center.  A click and a whistle 
sounded from his right side.

He looked over and saw Blain, one of his bro's.  He walked over.

"Eyyy yo."  Jesse grunted to his friend.

Blain grinned.  "What, you been trying out for the track team? Heyyy."

"Naw, just runnin from the Man."  Jesse responded.  "Got a smoke?"

Blain pulled a pack of Marlboro's from his black pants pocket, handed 
him one, and threw him the lighter.
Jesse noticed Blain had recently trimmed his mohawk, as they both lit 
up.  The two youths were dressed exactly alike, black t-shirts, black 
jeans, and black shirts.

"What does he want you for?"  Blain asked, blowing smoke from his nose.

"They jumped me comin out of Franklin¹s window, man almost caught me, 
but I skinned."  He took another drag on the smoke.

Blain laughed again, his extremely low voice echoed between the houses.  
"Heyyy!"  He grunted softly.  Then he lowered his voice to a private 
whisper.  "What¹d you get?" He asked nodding towards Jesse's pants.

Jesse reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a wad of money.  
"Hunnerd bucks man!"  He whispered.  "I got enough to get initiated now!  
What about you?"  He asked his friend, hoping he would be able to go 
with him that night.

"Zee." He shook his head.  "I still need a Franklin."

"Well, you better get busy, almost time."  He nodded at the sun, pursing 
his lips as if kissing it in a quick motion.  The sun was descending, 
they had maybe three hours before sunset, before initiation night.

"I'll be there, man.  What the fuck do you think I was doing over here?  
Spankin my monkey?"  Blain nodded towards a nearby window.

"I¹m gone, man."  Jesse retorted, and continued down the street.


Jesse walked the rest of the way through the hospital housing complex 
and into the Navajo Housing Authority.  The acrid smell of the burning 
trash dump reached him as he rounded the corner of his street. He kicked 
a beer bottle into the weeds at the side of the road, to join the other 
trash that had been left there.  

As he came in view of his house, he noticed a cream panel truck, and 
blue undercover vehicle in front.  He quickly ducked behind a tree in 
front of an empty house.  He sat and waited for the cars to leave, which 
they did about an hour later.  He got up and walked the rest of the way 
home.

"Jesse!  Where you been!"  His older brother James demanded as soon as 
he walked in the door.

"Was over at Blain's pad, man."  He answered in a soft, low tone.

"The cops were just here lookin' for you, said you were seen comin' out 
of Mr. Franklin¹s window, and that he was missing some money."  James 
said in a frantic voice he always used when Jesse was in trouble.  James 
never could handle any heat, Jesse thought.  James pushed his round 
glasses back up his nose, glaring at Jesse. 

Blain always thought James looked like a woman when he did that, the 
short tapered haircut, thin nose, and his wiry frame made him look like 
a girl.

"Wasn't me."  He responded, and started to go towards his room.

"Mom's pissed, said she'd be home soon and that you'd better not go 
anywhere."
 James retorted, shaking his head and walking into the living room.

Jesse gave a miniscule shrug. ³Whatever.² 

 Jesse went into his bedroom he shared with his two younger brothers.  
He noticed LaVena was in the second bedroom she shared with his baby 
sister and their mother.  LaVena was 16, a year older than he, and they 
shared the same father.  James was three years older and lived in his 
own apartment in the public school housing where he worked as a 
custodian.  Jesse couldn¹t wait until he had his own pad where he could 
smoke, or drink, or fuck anytime he wanted.

"Cops were here lookin' for you."  LaVena called to him as he passed by.  
Jesse raised his arm and threw it down in response. LaVena was a pain in 
the ass, unless she was givin' it to her bellagana boyfriend.

"Where's Jeffrey?"  Davis asked, a smirk on his face.  LaVena rarely 
existed without her white shadow in tow.

She looked down at the bedspread she was laying on.  "He dumped me for 
sleeping with Emerson."  She murmured in a soft voice, tears leaking out 
of her eyes.

"Tough shit."  Jesse responded, walking down to his own room.  Jeffrey 
was a dick anyway. 

He shut the door behind him, grabbed his headphones, and started the 
Metallica CD.  As he lay down on his twin bed, his thoughts were 
consumed with anticipation for tonights' initiation.  Finally, I'm going 
to be somebody.  Even The Man won't mess with a Navajo Wolf.  Everything 
was ready, he had the money, and the tobacco (he was going to secretly 
use Marijuana).  He smiled at the thought of the coming evening, and 
spent the rest of the afternoon reading Guitar World, jamming on his 
Fender Squire electric guitar, and listening to heavy metal.

***

Officer Maurice Kewenwytewa of the Navajo Nation Police pulled the blue 
sedan into his parking place at the Navajo Police Station.  He had been 
searching for Jesse Begay all afternoon, through the dusty streets of 
Tuba City to no avail.  Jesse had given them the slip, and disappeared.  
He considered going back to the house, the youth would probably be home 
now, but discarded the idea, due to the mountains of paperwork he had to 
complete.  Begayehad been the first break in case of the day,  two more 
had been reported that afternoon in the hospital housing complex.  
Maurice suspected Jesse was not the perpetrator in the second two 
instances, since the Franklin break in had rewarded him with over a 
hundred dollars. The youths who constantly committed these crimes 
usually stopped for a while after they had made a big score. A hundred 
dollars was a king's ransom to Jesse, whose family lived on wealfare, 
and the back of the tribal government.

 Maurice entered the squad room, crossed to his desk, and began typing 
the reports for the day.

"Ya'ateh!"  A second officer broke his concentration. Jefferson Billy 
stuck out his hand.

"Hello Jefferson."  Maurice grasped the other man's hand in greeting.  
Jefferson was Navajo and liked to tease Maurice about his own Hopi 
heritage.

"ah herdt you di'n cetch Jesse Begeh overt the foo' ba field todeh!"  
JEfferson grunted in the broken accent of the Navajo patois.  " 
Outfoxehd theh gret Hopeh Plice Detetive I heah."    Jefferson spoke 
English and Navajo very well with little trace of an accent, but liked 
to razz Maurice whenever he could.

"Yes, that's correct."  Maurice replied.  He didn't want to encourage 
Jefferson by getting upset.  He eyed Jeffrson carefully.  "Could have 
used your help, though."  He went back to typing his reports.

 Jefferson sat down.  " Was over at the Bilagody place breaking up 
another 'domestic dispute.'" The two policemen looked at each other and 
laughed.

A 'domestic dispute' at the Bilogody trailer usually meant David 
Bilagody got drunk, passed out in his front yard, and Phyllis Bilagody 
called the cops for him to be hauled away.  Every time David ended up in 
the tank he swore it would be his last time.

"So is David awake yet?²  Maurice asked.

"Yeah, and he threw up in the squad car.  Spent the rest of the 
afternoon trying to hose it out." Jefferson looked at Maurice, and 
raised and eyebrow in silent accusation.

"I had the panel out looking for Begay.  You should have called me on 
the dispatch."  Maurice responded.

The panel van had a hard floor and was the usual vehicle for 
transporting inebriated individuals.  Jefferson didn't reply,  
indicating he agreed with Maurice's assessment. 
 One thing Navajo's never did was admit they were wrong, or say they 
were sorry.  As a Hopi, he had come to recognize their social patterns.  
He was lucky to be serving on the Tuba City Police Force at all, since 
they had a strict policy of Navajo preference, but the village of 
Moencopi was across the junction, and while they had their own police 
force, they often asked for help from the Tuba City office. Maurice 
could speak fluent Hopi, an asset that had come in handy many times over 
the four years he had served.

"Know why you got so many 101's  today?"  Jefferson asked, referring to 
the three break in's Maurice was reporting on.  

He considered the question.  They didn't usually have three in one day 
unless the fair was in town, or there was some type of ceremony planned.  
The fair was a month away, so it had to be a ceremony. 

 "Is there a big Sing this weekend?" He asked.
 
"No." Jefferson grinned.  The Sing was the traditional Navajo healing 
ceremony, their only true ceremonial event, other than the rite of 
passage.  Traditional Navajo ceremonies were used for healing purposes 
only, for the body, mind, or spirit. Hopi ceremonies were quite 
different, a time for relatives and friends to get together and see each 
other.  The Hopi traditions continued throughout the year, where Navajo 
were only used when someone was ill.  At least that was how he 
understood it.

³So.²  He wanted Jefferson to fill him in.

³The Wolves are having an initiation tonight.²  Jefferson stated flatly, 
now serious.

Maurice was stunned.  The Navajo Wolves?  That meant big, big trouble.
"Shit." He exclaimed in an uncharacteristic oath.

***

Blain knocked on Jesse's window in the late afternoon.
 
"You ready?"  He asked, after Jesse opened the screenless window.

"Yup." He climbed through, and they began walking towards the ceremonial 
site.

"D'jou get the Franklin?"  Jesse inquired as soon as they had passed out 
of the housing developments.

Blain pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket, smiling.

"D'jou bring tobacco?"  Blain asked as they passed tumbleweeds, trash 
bags, broken glass, dirty diapers, and other human detritus scattered 
along the trail.

"Got something better."  Jesse pulled a small baggy out of his pants, 
smiling.
"I'm gonna be the meanest motherfucking Wolf there ever was!"  He said 
handing him the bag.

"Aw, man!"  Blain chuckled.  "I don¹t know if they'll let you use weed, 
man; it might fuck up the spirits or somethin'." He handed the bag back 
to Jesse.

"You know tobacco is only a symbolic gift!  I just want those spirits to 
know I mean business."  Jesse started to strut, rolling his shoulders.

They continued heading east into the rose colored desert plains.  Sand 
sprinkled their backs as the wind from the west gently pushed them 
towards their destination.  The wind never stopped in Tuba, just as the 
trash dump burned consistently, litter overwhelmed any natural plants, 
and cows and horses roamed the streets.  The sand was everywhere; in 
everything.  The two youths lit cigarettes, the acrid smoke mingled with 
the scent of burning rubber.

"What are we going to have to do to get initiated?"  Jesse suddenly 
asked.  He hoped it wasn't anything that involved pain.  He had been 
adopted into the West Side Crips two years ago and they had branded 
their emblem  on his hand.  He hadn't cried but it had fuckin hurt.  
Even though he was no longer a part of them, the brand would always be 
there.

"Don't know, dude.  Could be anythin'.  My Uncle wouldn't tell me 
nothin' just said that after we were Wolves, we could be anything we 
wanted to be."

"I heard wolves could turn into animals an shit.  Do you really think 
we'll be able to do that?"  Jesse started to get excited, but didn't let 
it show.  Wasn't cool to be too eager beaver.

"Naw, they just wear animal skins to make them look like wolves."  Blain 
grinned at his friend.  "But you know all of the other stuff they can 
do."

"Nobody fucks with a witch, man, or they'll pay the price!"  Jesse 
exclaimed to Blain as they entered the ceremonial clearing.  They 
smacked a high five.

end part 1

-- 
". . . You want the truth?  It's down here, third door on the right."
                                        . . .Dark Skies, pilot.

Homepage: <http://warrior.tubacity.k12.az.us/~mbnels>
* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to Mike Nelson <mbnels@hotmail.com> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
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From mbnels@hotmail.com Wed Nov 20 12:30:05 1996
Date: Thu, 14 Nov 1996 23:26:31 +0000
From: Mike Nelson <mbnels@hotmail.com>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk <tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at>
Subject: Navajo Wolf-2

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"So you want to go back over to Begay"s house with me?"  Maurice asked 
Jefferson later that afternoon.

"Sure, I'll help you catch him." He answered, picking up his hat.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Maurice asked about Navajo 
Wolves.
Jefferson seemed to ponder the question for a few minutes and then 
explained as Maurice guided the vehicle through the sandswept streets of 
Tuba.

"They are going to be initiated into the dark brotherhood of Navajo 
witches, called skinwalkers. These men can cast spells on people and 
cause many types of sickness.  Physically they can cause headaches, 
rashes, stomach aches, viruses, and infections.  Mentally they can also 
cause nightmares, and mental illnesses."  Jefferson paused and looked at 
Maurice.

"The worst part is the bad luck."  He shook his head.  "They can cast 
spells on people that will cause bad luck to happen, such as a traffic 
accident, riding mishap, or any other type of unfortunate incident.  
Their magic can even cause death." He fell silent,  remembering his 
traditions.

"How can you combat them?"  Maurice asked knowing Jefferson was not a 
traditional Navajo, but did hold some of the beliefs.

³A Medicine Man can cast a Protection on you which will ward off any bad 
magic for a while, but these guys are really powerful."  He paused, and 
continued.

"My mother once started having these headaches, and they were real 
headaches, you could see it in her face.  She couldn't do much because 
of the pain, couldn't work, couldn't cook, all those things."  Maurice 
turned the car into the Navajo housing development.

"She went to a Bellagana doctor, and he ran a bunch of tests, took 
pictures of her brain, everything, but couldn't find anything wrong, so 
he called them psychosomatic, and sent her home with some pills.  She 
took the pills, and they didn't do anything, she continued to get even 
worse. Then she went to a Hand Trembler Medicine Man, and he said a 
witch was working on her, and told her to look under her bedroom window.  
Whatever she found there, her husband should destroy, and then she 
should come back and have a prayer said for her."  Jefferson squirmed a 
little as he related the story.  Maurice pulled the car into the Begaye 
driveway, turned off the engine, and waited for Jefferson to finish.

"Anyway, they went home and looked under her window.  Nothing was there, 
so my stepfather got a shovel and started to dig.  He dug three 
shovelfuls and found a coyote skull with markings on it.  He burned it, 
and took my mom back to the Hand Trembler.  They said a Navajo prayer, 
and a blessing, and the headaches went away."

Maurice had heard similar stories before.  He nodded.

"So why are they breaking into houses?"  Maurice asked as they opened 
the car doors and started for the front door. He stopped and listened to 
Jefferson¹s response.

"They have to pay the head witch to initiate them.  These guys usually 
have some kind of family member try to recruit them when they are 
fifteen or sixteen.  The ones with no real future, you know what I 
mean." Bilagody looked at him with a serious expression.

Maurice did know, only to well.  Tuba City had four areas of employment, 
the hospital, public schools, BIA, or Tribal offices.  Every one of 
those organizations faced cutbacks every year, so Tuba had an 
unemployment rate of sixty five percent.  They also had a high teen 
pregnancy rate, domestic violence rate, alcoholism, and the highest 
diabetic rating in the country.  Forty percent of all the families that 
lived in the area were broken homes or single mothers raising a large 
number of kids on welfare.  These kids had nothing, nowhere to go, and 
nobody to look up to. Many of them dropped out of high school, and of 
the lucky few who went to college, very few ever graduated.  The gangs 
had found easy prey and moved into the area, fourteen gangs were present 
in this community of eight thousand. 

He could see the attraction of the Wolves to a kid like Jesse Begay, he 
wouldn't have the commitment of a gang, with the danger of drive by's, 
drug busts, etc, but would get empowerment. Jefferson had come from such 
a situation, but had been able to overcome the limitations of his 
upbringing.

"Well, let's see if the young man is within."   Maurice quipped, and 
they went to the door.

***

As they approached the clearing, Jesse noticed a dirty white Tipi with 
smoke rising from the opening near the top. They entered and were 
greeted by Blain's uncle.

"Ya'teh Hosteen."  He said smiling and gripped Jesse's hand firmly, 
after embracing his nephew. "Davidson Saganitso, but you can call me 
Spike.  Everyone else does, especially the girls." He said, and laughed, 
clapping Jesse on the shoulder, and leading them to sit before the fire.

Light from the red and yellow sunset entered the tipi from the opening 
in the top and from the door, casting the rest of the tipi in gray 
shadows.  A small fire burned in the center, a fluffy grayish sheepskin 
lay on the ground in front.  Spike indicated they should kneel on the 
sheepskin facing the fire.  Two more boys entered the tipi and were 
greeted by another man.

"That's Frank Bitsui, and his son Alvin, and nephew David Sloane.  They 
are going to be initiated tonight as well."  Spike went over and shook 
the other boys' hands, and then brought them to the circle and 
introduced Blain and Jesse.  They all grasped hands in greeting.

"In a little while our Pack leader will come and start the ceremony.  It 
is very important that you do exactly as he says, and not interfere with 
the ceremony in any way.  Do not look directly into his eyes, as you are 
initiates and he is the pack leader.  If you are chosen to follow, and 
are confirmed, then you will be able to meet his gaze.  Should you look 
him in his eyes before you are confirmed in four days, you will forfeit 
your right to join, and your initiation money.  Do you understand?"  
Spike looked at each boy in turn.  Each of them nodded their head.  

The Pack leader entered the tipi.  Jesse remembered Spike's words and 
was careful to not look at him full in the face.  He was wearing some 
type of animal skin, the head was resting on the top of the pack 
master's hair.  A Wolf skin of course, Jesse realized as he came closer.  
He appeared to be somewhat older, with a large gut hanging over his 
belt.  Underneath the wolf skin he was wearing a checkered shirt, 
wrangler denims, and work boots.  Jesse was careful to avoid looking at 
the face, but he had the impression the man was somewhere between forty 
and fifty years old.  He came over to the fire and stood in front of the 
assembly.

He stopped, knelt in front of the fire, and unrolled a bundle he had 
been carrying. It held many different types and sizes of stones, worn 
smooth by hands, or a buffer.  He addressed them in Navajo. Jesse had 
never learned Navajo, but Blain understood it and quickly translated.

"He wants to know if we all understand the language of the Dine'.  I 
told him I did but that you didn't.  He said this ceremony will take 
place all in Navajo but that I can translate as much as I can.  You will 
have to say some things in Navajo at the end, say them as best as you 
can in  full voice, otherwise the spirits may not be pleased.  We must 
follow all directions carefully, or again the spirits will be 
displeased. Are you ready?"

Jesse looked at his friend, butterflies stirred in his gut.  "Yup."  He 
replied.  The ceremony began.

***

Maurice and Jefferson returned to the sedan after unsuccessfully 
locating Jesse Begay. Maurice pulled out and began to drive.

"I guess we ought to try to find the location of this initiation.  Do 
you have any idea where it might be?"  Maurice asked Jefferson as they 
headed out of the housing authority.

"Nope.  They could be anywhere, but my uncle says they have these things 
in tipis."

"Tipis?  I thought all Navajo ceremonies where held in hogans or out in 
the open."  Maurice responded, surprised.

"For all other ceremonies that is true, but the Wolves used to have 
their ceremonies in caves.  Now that the Native American Church is here, 
they use those tipis so they don¹t attract any unwanted attention.  You 
know how  it is, you always see those NAC tipis all over the place 
nowadays."  He retorted in a disgusted voice. He had no affection for 
the members of the NAC, and considered it another symptom of traditional 
Navajo beliefs being replaced by something else.
This was a problem of the Navajo tribe, traditionally their religion was 
quite strong, however, many factors usurped that background. 
Christianity, the NAC, Alcohol, the gangs, drugs, even the BIA itself 
combined to remove Navajos from their traditional roots.  Hopi 
traditions were much stronger in resisting these invasions.

They drove around the area surrounding Tuba City for a while, noticing 
four of the NAC tipis.  At each one Jefferson looked carefully for a 
while, before shaking his head.  Finally, around 10:00 pm, they pulled 
up to a tipi and Jefferson immediately spoke.
"That¹s the one, see, the doorway faces west.  Any self respecting 
traditional Navajo always has their hogan set with the doorway facing 
east.  All the other tipis  we saw usually faced east, with one facing 
north, but this is the only one facing west."  He pointed towards the 
flap like door.  " This group is to the traditional Navajo religion as 
Satanism is to Christianity.  Satanists hang crosses upside down, 
Skinwalkers face their tipi west."

"How should we play it now?"  Maurice asked, turning off the sedan.

Technically we could go in and arrest Begay, but it would break the 
ceremony and may cause them to cast all kinds of spells on me.  I 
haven't had an Enemy Way recently, so the spells would have some effect.  
We could call for backup, but I think you'd have a hard time getting 
those guys to bust in on this, unless somebody's life was at stake or 
something."

"I could do it alone, maybe call in Bergerson."  Richard Bergerson was 
the only Anglo police officer on the force.

"Yeah, you could probably do it, I know you have no doubts about this 
type of magic, your Hopi heritage is strong enough that it wouldn't have 
any effect.  However, I wonder about Bergerson, if he has any doubts at 
all, or even a suspicion, the spell can take hold and cause all kinds of 
problems.  Plus he has a Navajo wife, and if it doesn't affect him, it 
would definitely hit her, or his kids.  No, I think the best solution is 
just to sit and wait, we can catch Begay on his way home.  Then we can 
run him in, give him the fifth degree, and maybe prevent anyone in his 
family from dyin in the next few days.

Maurice considered this carefully.  He could see the logic behind it, 
this course would also cause less of a disruption in other lives.  He 
nodded his head, agreeing.
He started the motor, and drove off.
***

Jesse listened attentively as the Pack leader chanted in Navajo for an 
extended time.  The words seemed to drop off his tongue and the hypnotic 
rhythm soothed him.  Jesse found his eyelids drooping as he listened to 
the monotone chant. 

 The pungent smell of the burning smoke burned his eyes at first, but he 
quickly became attuned to it. He realized it wasn't all wood smoke, his 
mind become lethargic, drifting.

 Blain occasionally summarized what the man was saying.  Jesse 
distinguished that many of the sentences were repeated over and over , 
sometimes with a pinch of something thrown into the fire.  "He welcomes 
our friend coyote, snake, owl,raven and wolf to our company."  Blain 
grinned.  These animals were all taboo to Navajos, no ceremony ever 
welcomed them in the invocation.

"He says we look in the direction of the setting sun for guidance and 
wisdom in overcoming our enemies.  He asks brother coyote to guide us to 
help us to reap the rewards of the dark path.  He asks brother owl for 
wisdom in recognizing those who will cause ill to us.  He asks brother 
raven to fly over us and notify us of any trespasses so they may be 
dealt with, and punished.  He asks brother snake to seek out and destroy 
those who would interfere with our plan.  He asks brother wolf for the 
use of his body, so that we may experience the joy of the night.  We do 
not walk in beauty, we walk with blood.  We do not walk in beauty, we 
walk with blood."
Blain fell silent for a while as he listened to the leader.  His voice 
had changed from the rhythmic chant and instructed them to do something.

"We're supposed to take a pinch of corn pollen and throw it in the 
fire."  Blain translated, grinning. Corn pollen was sacred to Navajos, 
and usually was thrown in each direction of the compass.  It was then 
symbolically rubbed over your body, and finally tasted.  Jesse had been 
blessed with corn pollen a number of times in the past, but he never was 
supposed to throw it in a fire.

The Pack leader intoned again.  Blain translated. "This shows our hate 
of the corn, and the pollen.  This is a symbol of our hate to the world.  
You have to say this phrase in Navajo."  Blain repeated the phrase a 
couple of times for Jesse while the other initiates cast the pollen.  
His turn came, and Jesse repeated the phrase, and threw the pollen in 
the fire .  As it connected with the flames, he felt a strange sensation 
enter his body, a tingling all over, as if a thousand pins and needles 
were poking him in a hundred different places.  Colors began emanating 
from the flames, casting green, blue, and yellow shadows on the wall.

The Pack leader began a long series of recitations again.  This time, 
Jesse started to see colors and auras floating around the room. 

"We are not supposed to look at anything directly that is floating 
around the fire.  This is the time of testing, of pain.  The spirits 
will see what we are made of, if we are worthy.  If we cry out, flinch, 
or look at anything directly we will not be confirmed into the order.  I 
must remain silent for this next interval.  After it is over, I will be 
allowed to translate again."

Jesse tensed in anticipation of the pain.  The colors swirled around the 
room.  Jesse lowered his gaze to the floor  and focused on a bug 
crawling across the sheepskin.  Red, white, green, yellow, and purple, 
flew about the fire, gaining solidity with each word of the incantation.  
The bug stopped, turned around, and started back the way it came.  The 
colors swirled around him, coming nearer, flashing near his face.  He 
continued to gaze at the floor.  This wasn¹t hard, no harder than the 
silent treatment he often gave Bellagana teachers at Tuba City High 
School when they asked him a question.  The colors flew in his face, and 
around his body.  One brushed his arm, and he felt searing pain for a 
brief instant.  He found himself aching to take his eyes off the bug and 
stare at the flying forms, but held solid and remained as he was. 

"AAUGH!"  He heard to his left, and again wanted to look.  It sounded 
like one of the initiates had given in to the desire, but it didn't 
sound like Blain, so Jesse continued his resolve. 

A burning sensation began disturbing him from his left foot.  He stomped 
it hoping it would stop, and knowing it wouldn't.  What have I got 
myself into!  He thought as he closed his eyes. The pain quickly spread 
to his right foot and rose up his body. Can't scream!  Must not let it 
get to me!  Soon his entire body felt afire and he could feel the flames 
baking him as his skin blackened and fell off;  the bones roasting.  
Beyond pain, his body felt numb as he felt his eyeballs liquify with the 
heat.  The smell of his own burning flesh assailed him.

Screaming, beginning low, and then ascending to a woman's shriek erupted 
from his right and he knew that the second of the other initiates had 
failed.  The screaming flew about the room, and then abruptly ceased. 

The pain of immolation left him, and Jesse panted with the release, 
trembling from the pain he had endured. Before he could relax, a deep 
growling came from the direction of the fire.  Opening his eyes, Jesse 
was unable to see anything in front of him.  He raised his arm in front 
of his face, but could not make it out in the darkness.  Gasping in 
terror, Jesse remained steadfast.  The growling came closer, and was 
accompanied by snarling sounds.  A sudden slash, and he could feel his 
flesh ripped away from the bone.  Jesse inhaled , and held his breath 
against the searing pain, feeling the blood gush from his mangled arm.  
Again something slashed him with razor sharp talons shredding his scalp.  
Again and again he stood as the flaying teeth and talons tore into him.  
Tears leaked from his eyes as he waited silently for death to claim him.  

The trial abruptly ceased.  He hoped it was over, prayed it was over, he 
could not bear any more tests.  Dizzy from pain and exhaustion, his legs 
quivered and sweat dripped from his brow in rivulets.

There was a brief pause, and then something slithered up his ankle. 
Scales  rasped against his skin, tickling him as they ascended his body.  
At his crotch the feeling paused, unbarably.  He gasped, as agony 
blossomed in his right thigh as it bit him.  The snake continued its¹ 
terrible journey, rising into his shirt, and then across his shoulders.  
The venom poured liquid fire through capillaries, veins and arteries, 
numbing him with a sweet lassitude. He swayed on his feet with the 
effects as his body swelled to bursting.  His joints ached, every 
movement brought bright flashes to his blind eyes.  His breath came 
short, and a weight descended on his chest. He gulped air in ragged, 
burning, gasps as his heart fluttered and  stopped.
 
The sheepskin returned, with the bug, who had moved further towards the 
top.  Jesse immediately looked at his body, and arms, expecting to see 
blood and gore but was amazed to see he was unmarked and unscathed.  The 
Pack leader had continued chanting throughout the entire ordeal, and 
then fell silent.  Jesse looked at his feet, and could feel the leader¹s 
gaze regarding him. The man spoke again, not a chant, but a command.

"Now we are to smoke the tobacco we brought, it shall cleanse us, and 
our soul will rise through the smoke to join with our guardian spirits."  
Blain translated in a husky voice.  Jesse staggered, and almost fell to 
his knees.  A strong hand steadied him.  "No weakness now,"  a voice 
hissed.

A pipe was handed to him, long stemmed, with a small bowl.
"We are to put a small amount of tobacco in this and smoke the entire 
bowl.  The rest of the tobacco will be left here for our leader."  Blain 
translated. 

 Jesse's heart thumped in his chest. with regret for bringing Marijuana 
at this point, his mind was numb after the painful ordeal, he didn't 
want to get deep with weed on top of it.  "Can I use some of yours?"  He 
asked his friend, looking at him meaningfully.  Blain grinned and turned 
to the Pack master.  He repeated the question in Navajo with eyes 
lowered.  The leader was silent for a long time before saying, very 
clearly, "No."  He did not elaborate.

Jesse reached into the back pocket of his black denim jeans, withdrew 
the baggy of marijuana, and filled the bowl.  Spike lit the bowl with a 
twig from the fire.
***

After attending a few domestic calls, breaking up a noisy party, running 
in some taggers, and escorting some curfew breakers home, Maurice and 
Jefferson returned to the dirt road that lead to the tipi. Maurice found 
a clearing beside the road, and backed the sedan into a copse of scrub 
trees, where they could still view the road.

"How much longer do you think the ceremony will last?"  Maurice 
inquired.
"I have no idea, but I think it should be before midnight."
Maurice checked his watch, 11:30.  He sat and watched the road.

It was a clear night, with no wind.  The smell of sage, tumbleweed and 
cottonwood touched his senses, along with the slight tang of the ever 
burning trash dump, he could see the orange glow of the fire in the 
distance.

"What is it with you Navajos burning trash?"  Maurice suddenly asked.  
"I mean, that dump burns all the time.  We burn ours down at the village 
on Sundays, and that takes care of the trash for the week!"  He looked 
at his friend, outlined in the darkness.

"That's the reason, right there.²" In the dim glow of the moonlight 
Maurice could just see Jefferson nodding towards the tipi.  "Those guys 
can comb through that stuff, and if they find anything of yours intact, 
cigarette butt, nail clippings, hair, anything, they can use the magic 
against you.  That scares us, so we light anything personal on fire.  
It's when we don't smell that place burning that we start getting 
nervous."

At that moment, they could make out  the outlines of two people leaving 
the tipi.  The officers fell silent, watching as the individuals walked 
down the road. 

"There¹s our man."  Maurice whispered as two youths strolled by.

"Which one?"

"Can't tell, they're dressed exactly the same.  Guess we¹ll have to 
incarcerate both of them."

Maurice waited until they were about a hundred feet away, and then 
silently pulled the sedan out, following them.

end part two
-- 
". . . You want the truth?  It's down here, third door on the right."
                                        . . .Dark Skies, pilot.

Homepage: <http://warrior.tubacity.k12.az.us/~mbnels>
* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to Mike Nelson <mbnels@hotmail.com> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
------ The discussion list for the Transformation Story Archive ---------
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From mbnels@hotmail.com Wed Nov 20 12:30:08 1996
Date: Thu, 14 Nov 1996 23:26:38 +0000
From: Mike Nelson <mbnels@hotmail.com>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk <tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at>
Subject: Navajo Wolf-3

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"Man!  That was fucked up!  I thought I was gonna fucking die!  How 
'bout you?"  Blain asked, pumped from the evening experience.

Jesse was so high from the fire and then smoking an entire bowl of weed 
he could hardly walk, much less talk.  "Yup."  Was all he could manage.

"Your deep dude!"  He laughed.  "Bet your sorry you brought that fuckin 
weed instead of tobacco, hey."
 
"Yup."  Was all Jesse could reply.

 Abruptly, from behind them, a car sped to a stop.  Two men leaped out, 
and quickly apprehended the both of them.  They were too stunned from 
the ordeal of the evening to protest, or flee.  They were handcuffed and 
put into the back of the car.

Jesse was numb to everything around him.  Some part of him registered as 
he was taken to the police station, fingerprinted, and put into a cell.  
Blain was there, and he was pissed, but Jesse didn't care, he was 
withdrawn from the rest of the world.  At some time in the early 
morning, he fell asleep on one of the cots provided in the holding cell.
***

"May I speak with Marlene Begay please?"  Maurice asked the youth who 
answered the phone.  It was 6:30 Am the day following the incarceration 
of Jesse Begay, and Blain Tsosie.  Maurice had come in early to make 
this call, knowing if he waited until his regular shift started, Ms. 
Begay would probably be unlocatable.
"Ms. Begay, this is detective Kewenwytewa, Tuba City Precinct of Navajo 
Police.  I wanted to report that your son Jesse was being held in the 
Juvenile Detention Center here in Tuba, on the charge of Burglary, 
Breaking and Entering, and Felony Flight.  He is being held, awaiting a 
hearing from the juvenile court."

He listened as Ms. Begay unleashed a series of obscene and vial curses 
at him.
"I'm sorry you feel that way Ms. Begay, however, your son is in a lot of 
trouble.  He will not be able to come home at the moment.  He is allowed 
to have visitors, so if you would like.." She cut him off again with 
obscenities, and then hung up.

Maurice pulled up his belt, that was easy.  There had been no evidence 
to detain Blain Tsosie, so they had released him earlier in the morning.  
Jesse was en route to the Juvenile Detention Center, where he would be 
held until his hearing in a couple of days.  Maurice yawned, and left 
the police building for his home in Moencopi Village.

Jesse came to himself as someone was shaking him awake.  He looked 
around the room, not remembering where he was, some kind of jail. 

"You got visitors."  The large man repeated.  He waited as Jesse got off 
the lower bunk.  He was dressed in a light green shirt and pants, 'TCDC' 
was stenciled on the front.

"Oh, Shit."  He exclaimed as reality came flooding in.

He went out with the orderly to the small, paneled visitors' room.  
Jesse saw his mother and Frank sitting at one of the tables, along with 
a man in a suit he didn¹t recognize.  He sat down, and looked at the 
table.

His mother started crying, and reached into her purse for tissue.

"Well, you finally did it."  James began.  "What do you have to say for 
yourself?"

"Nothin."  He replied, and continued to look at the table.  He 
remembered the previous evening as he went through the trial of pain, 
how he had endured.  The Pack master had assigned their final trial, and 
it had bitten Jesse to the core.  He was to cause the death of a family 
member, related by blood, within the next three days.  He had to furnish 
proof to the Skinwalkers by bringing a lock of hair, or fingernails from 
the corpse.  He looked up at James, considering, and then shook his 
head.

"What!"  His brother responded.

"Nothin."  Jesse repeated.

"How could you do this to me!"  His mother shrieked.  "How could you do 
this to the family?"

"I don¹t think this is productive, we need to figure out how to get 
Jesse some help, and out from under this trouble that has found him."  
The man interjected.
He was tall, maybe Plains Indian Jesse thought, with long hair caught 
back with a band.  He wore a suit and a bolo tie.  His face was broad, 
but he had a thin, finely angled nose, and close set eyes.  Probably 
Sioux, Jesse theorized.

"My name is Jarvis Poorthunder, of the Seneca Nation.  I will be your 
counsel at the hearing tomorrow.  What can you tell me about the 
break-in yesterday?  Did you have any help?  Did someone tell you to do 
it?"

Jesse continued to stare at the table.

Poorthunder waited a while, and then gave up.

"Ah.  The noble silent treatment.  Well, I have had some experience with 
the silent treatment, and will tell you that if you don¹t reveal some 
things, I will end this right now and tell the judge you are guilty, and 
he will send you to the Coconino Juvenile Facility where you will 
probably receive three years of counseling and career training.  On the 
other hand, if you help me out, I will ask the judge to remember that 
this is your first conviction, and you might get away with probation.  
Now, is there anything you want to tell me?"

Jesse knew the man was right.  He had to complete the last part of his 
initiation soon,which wouldn¹t be easy.  If the hearing was tomorrow, he 
would still have two days to complete it.

"Naw, there was no one else, I was alone.  Nobody  told me to do it 
neither."  A sudden thought struck him, he saw the way out.  " I just 
needed the dough to buy out of the gang, that¹s all."  He had actually 
bought out a while ago, but knew this would help his cause.

"Buy out, you mean that if you give the gang you belong to money you can 
get out?  I¹ve never heard of this before."

"Sure.  Happens all the time.  I got the cash and bought out last night.  
Now, I'm free!"  He opened his hands wide.

Jesse's mother looked at him.  "You were in a gang?  What ever made 
you.."

"The important thing now is that he is out, right little brother?"  
James cut her off.

"Yup."  Jesse smiled. Gotta show  I done a good thing.

"I'm not happy the way you handled it, but I'm proud of you for getting 
out! You could have come to me if you needed money!"  James came around 
the table and hugged him. Jesse wished he had a knife to plunge between 
his shoulder blades.  But he hugged him back.
"Well, I think the judge will go easy on you this time. But you had 
better play it pretty straight from now on. I hope this is a new leaf 
you are turning over, brother."  Poorthunder stuck out his hand. Jesse 
grasped it firmly.

***
"D'jou hear our friend Jesse is back out on the street?"  Jefferson 
asked Maurice as he sat in the chair opposite his desk.  Maurice was 
again filing a report, this time on a DOA traffic accident he had 
recently returned from around Cameron.  He was still a little shaken 
from the condition he had found the woman in. He had vowed again to 
always wear his safety belt.

"Yes, I heard. You know what's going to happen now, don't you?" Maurice 
looked at the other officer. Jefferson nodded. The joshing was set aside 
for the moment.

"Who¹s the DOA?"  He inquired, changing the subject, and noticing the 
beige report form. 

"Florinda Tallsalt.  Single car rollover near Cameron. Drunk. You know 
her?"

Jefferson paused, his hand covering his mouth. Jefferson had grown up in 
Tuba and knew most of the residents.  He closed his eyes, nodding.

"She was married to Lyle Tallsalt, her maiden name was Altsisi."He 
responded in a thoughtful voice.

Maurice processed this.  Jefferson was leading somewhere.

"Florinda Altsisi was the sister of Joice Altsisi, who became Joice 
Tsosie. 

"And Joice Tsosie has a son named Blain."  Maurice finished for him.

"Looks like Blain killed his Aunt to get into the Wolves. One down.."

"One to go."  Maurice concluded.  "But how could he have killed 
Florinda? It was a single vehicle rollover, she was drunk, careened off 
the road, and was ejected from the vehicle. It doesn¹t seem possible 
Blain could have anything to do with it, and if he did, it would be hard 
to find enough evidence to convict him."

Jefferson shrugged.  "He could have tampered with the brake lines, 
loosened the steering wheel, hell, he could have made it possible for 
her just to get drunk and drive.  He doesn't have to actually kill her, 
just cause the death of a family member.  He did make a mistake though, 
can you see it?" Jefferson looked at Maurice, an intelligent gleam in 
his eye.  

For once, Maurice was at a loss.  He shook his head.

"He has to have physical evidence of the death, something from the body.  
He has to have hair, fingernails, something from the cadaver.  The way 
he did it, he can¹t have any evidence, so I bet he will try to break 
into the morgue somehow  in order to get it.  And when he does.."

"We can be there." Maurice finished.

"Yeh cehtch on quick, Shi'heh'."

"I'm not your grandfather."  Maurice replied.

***

Jesse lay on his bed and listened to Metallica while reading a SPAWN 
Comic, a small reading light the only illumination in the darkness.  He 
glanced over at his little brother who had finally fallen asleep next to 
him on the bed.  Harry was only four, but he had enough energy to stop a 
truck. Tyson was asleep on a mattress at the foot of his bed.  Tyson was 
in second grade at the Primary school, and had received a black eye 
earlier in the day while fighting one of his classmates.

Jesse shook his head remembering his own second grade days, fighting all 
of the guys who picked on him.  He felt sorry for his brother who had to 
go through the same ordeal.

He had been released earlier, the judge had sentenced him to six months 
of probation for his first offense. His mother had cried all the way 
home, but had quickly been out the door with her current boyfriend when 
he showed her tickets to the Garth Brooks concert in Flagstaff.  She had 
told Jesse to watch after his brothers and sisters, and had not yet 
returned.

He looked over at the digital clock on the dresser, 12:05. It was now or 
never.

 Lucy, the baby, was asleep in her crib after fussing endlessly with 
Jesse all afternoon and evening.  She had a bad diaper rash, and Jesse 
had treated it, but she was still cranky. Wouldn¹t be suffering for 
long, he thought.

He got up, carefully stepped over his sleeping brother and went past the 
living room and into the girl's room. LaVena was out somewhere, probably 
getting knocked up by her boyfriend, so the baby was the only occupant 
in the room. 

 He looked at the tiny form sleeping in the crib, only four months old, 
and hadn't learned to pick up her head yet.  He considered what he was 
about to do, feeling some remorse.  She doesn't have a chance, mother's 
a drunk slut, three older brothers who'll be in and out of jail, and an 
older sister who didn¹t give a damn about anyone but herself.  What 
chance did Lucy have at a good life?  She was fucked before she was even 
born.
Very carefully, he reached in and gently rolled her over onto her face.  
He kissed his hand, and touched the back of her head, before leaving the 
room. 

***
 It was a rare cool evening in October, the wind blew dry olive, 
cottonwood,and poplar leaves in towering swirls.  Halloween was two 
days away, the lights from the football field cast faint glimmers to 
light Jesse's path as he entered the clearing where the tipi stood.  A 
faint roar notified him Tuba City had scored another touchdown.

Fuckin jocks, they would definitely be on Jesse's hit list of bad luck, 
illnesses, and other shit he would conjure up as a witch. "Serves 'em 
right."  he muttered, lifting the dirty flap.

Jesse entered the tipi alone. Tonight was the night of confirmation, the 
night he would finally be seen as a full fledged member of the Navajo 
Wolves.  His chest swelled with pride as he thought about his successful 
completion of the trials.

Spike greeted him and shook his hand, but then fell silent.  Blain had 
been caught breaking into the morgue the day before,  trying to get a 
piece of his aunt's hair.  He was being held in the detention center, 
and Jesse figured he would probably rot there awhile.  

That fuckin Hopi cop had managed to prove the brake line had been 
sabotaged, and they might actually be able to make it stick. 

Jesse was free and clear, Lucy had died of SIDS. He had been able to 
honestly report he had checked on her around midnight and that she had 
been ok at that point.  The cops who had busted him were wise to the 
situation, but this time there was absolutely no proof.  He saw their 
frustration as they left his house earlier in the day. No proof except 
for the lock of hair he held in his hand.

The Pack leader entered the clearing.  He cleared his throat, and 
whispered slowly  in a low voice. " I see we have one initiate who 
attends tonight."  He paused, but Jesse continued to stare at the 
ground.

"Have you been able to complete the task?"  He said in a quiet voice.

Jesse was surprised by his use of English, but nodded.

The Pack leader held out a hand.  Jesse carefully placed the lock of 
hair into the rough, calloused palm.

"And the person this belonged to?"

"My sister."

"How old?"

"Three months."

"And will you ever be charged with this, by Bellagana law?" The Pack 
leader intoned in a hollow voice.

"No, she was declared dead by natural causes."

The leader fell silent for a time.  "And how do you feel about causing 
the death of your sister?"

Jesse was struck, how did he feel?  What was he supposed to say?  The 
guy sounded like all of the teachers and shrinks he had seen in the 
past, trying to get him to 'feel' the consequences of his actions. The 
truth was he didn't 'feel' anything.  He had a job to do, as task, and 
he did it because it was in his best interest.  The statement crushed 
the illusion he had held of this group, they were just like everybody 
else.

"Like shit." He replied suddenly.

"Why do you feel that way?"  The leader asked in a strong voice.

At this point Jesse didn't care if he was saying the right thing or not.  
He didn't care if he made it into the Wolves, didn't care if he was 
killed.  He didn't give a shit about himself, or his family... but he 
had loved his little sister, and now she was dead, because of him.

"Because she was ok.  She didn't hassle me, like all those teachers and 
principals did,didn't give me any shit, except her crying, and I had to 
cause her death.  She was the only one in my family that didn¹t bug me 
to do this or that, but the only one who wouldn¹t arouse any kind of 
suspicion, and the only one I could get away with.  I still feel like 
shit, but it had to be done.

The pack leader fell silent. In his peripheral vision, Jesse could see 
him nodding.

"The power you will receive can not be taken lightly. You must use it 
carefully, and not bring shame on yourself or the Wolves.  If you cause 
suspicion to fall upon us, your soul will be rendered from your body in 
a trial worse than the one you experienced.  You will need much training 
in the way of the skinwalker, Davidson will be your Pack mate for that 
instruction."  He stopped. Jesse could feel the intense gaze focused on 
the top of his head.

"I noticed you did not use tobacco in the initiation ceremony."  He 
stated and fell silent.

Jesse fidgeted.  "I figured it would create more of a spirit journey for 
me.  I wanted to prove to the spirits I'm willing to go the extra mile, 
willing to do anything to walk with them."  Jesse stopped, hoping it 
would be enough.

"That may be, however, you may find the spirits may not react as you 
think.  That is why they are spirits and not men."  The Pack leader had 
emphasized the last two words of the phrase.

Jesse wondered what he meant.

"You will find out tonight as you walk with the spirits."  Jesse felt 
his heart stumble, he had made it! 
 "It is time, come to me.²  The pack leader motioned for Jesse to step 
forward. 

 Jesse moved underneath his upraised arm. It descended and fell on his 
head.

"Our spirits know your soul and will allow you to walk with them.  You 
have not the knowledge to do this yourself, so I will channel my power 
through you. You will run with us tonight, with the Pack, with the 
spirits as our guide.  At sunrise you will again be returned to the 
world of man, and begin instruction with your pack brother, Spike.  You 
will not run with us again until you can find the way yourself."

Jesse could feel a surge building in the air, like static electricity.  
The fire grew brighter, and all of the men within the tipi began to 
glow.  A light came from the chest of the pack leader, coursing down his 
shoulder and into Jesse¹s head.  A freight train of power sizzled in his 
ears.

"Do you accept the life of a skinwalker, and the ability to walk with 
the spirits?"  The leader intoned in a  powerful voice.  Jesse could 
feel the adrenaline coursing through his body, his eyes were wide with 
excitement.  For once, he didn't care what he looked like.

"Yes!"  He replied loudly.

"Do you pledge your life and soul to the pack, and seek revenge upon our 
common enemies?"

"Yes!"  The power began to build within him, and electric current 
streaming through his body.

"Will you forever accept the will of the spirits the pack, and me as 
leader?"

"Yes!"  He shouted, although he power was so strong now it filled his 
head and ears with it's electric song.

"Welcome,  Jesse Begay, to the Pack. Join us now as a Skinwalker."

Jesse cried out now, as the power found his heart.  He fell to his 
knees, stunned, and the hand was removed.  A strange sense entered his 
awareness, and he could feel his body shifting, assuming a new shape.  
He glanced at his hands, and could see the talons bursting out of his 
fingertips.  Could feel his shirt shredding as his chest deepened.  A 
thousand charley horses saturated his legs, and he looked down to see 
them bending and shifting into new dimensions.  A howl ripped through 
his lungs, and he threw his long snouted face up, screaming his 
adulation to the spirits he could see advancing towards him; owl, snake, 
coyote, raven, and finally wolf.  He ran with the spirits and the pack.

End part 3

-- 
". . . You want the truth?  It's down here, third door on the right."
                                        . . .Dark Skies, pilot.

Homepage: <http://warrior.tubacity.k12.az.us/~mbnels>
* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to Mike Nelson <mbnels@hotmail.com> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
------ The discussion list for the Transformation Story Archive ---------
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From mbnels@hotmail.com Wed Nov 20 12:30:10 1996
Date: Thu, 14 Nov 1996 23:26:43 +0000
From: Mike Nelson <mbnels@hotmail.com>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk <tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at>
Subject: Navajo Wolf-4

Maurice and Jefferson sat in the patrol car outside of the tipi.  They 
had followed Jesse here, and were waiting to see what became of the 
ceremony.  Jefferson had warned these nights were usually filled with 
blood, as they gave birth to vengeance upon their enemies.

"And we are enemies, my friend, they could come after us."  Jefferson 
said quietly.

"I thought I was immune to this sort of thing."  Maurice asked, 
confused.

"Hey, a human is a human.  Your protected from the magical side of it, 
but if a horde of skin wearing fanatics make a run at us, we won't be 
able to do a whole lot."
 
Jefferson silently regarded the tipi. Maurice watched his outline, there 
was no moon to illuminate him. They waited in the darkness.

Around ten-o-clock, a strange sound came from within the tipi. Maurice 
was startled to see it glowing faintly red in the night, he could see 
the outline of the structure clearly.

"What in the hell.."  He heard Jefferson mutter.

The glowing continued, and a sound came with it, howling.  It was real 
howling, not men trying to sound like dogs. Maurice unclipped his 
pistol.

The glow increased, in relation to the howling. Maurice felt cold terror 
rise in his bones, sweat beaded his brow in the cool darkness.

A force came tearing out of the tipi, shredding it in front of them.  
Dogs, or something came streaming out of the tatters, large outlines 
with glowing red eyes.  They tore past the squad car, and the terrified 
inhabitants, all except for one, who stopped and regarded them with an 
ruby stare.

 Maurice could feel his sphincter loosen, but managed to control his 
bladder.  The wolf growled, low in it's throat, a deep unnatural 
rumbling.  Baring white fangs, it approached the officers.

Jefferson leaped out of the passenger door and shot at the creature.  He 
was a good shot, but the bullets seemed to pass right through.  The 
creature leaped for his throat, but the man was able to scramble back in 
the open door, and slam it before he was eviscerated.  The beast slammed 
into the door, spider works shot through the glass.  It turned, and made 
ready for another leap.

"Drive, drive, drive, drive!"  Jefferson shouted. Maurice turned the 
engine over, and threw the car into gear, backing down the dirt road.  
The wolf pursued, running easily and matching the pace of the fleeing 
vehicle.  At the end of the dirt, Maurice slew the car around onto the 
asphalt, and roared off towards town.  The wolf fell back, and 
disappeared.

'What the hell was that all about!"  Maurice yelled, after they had 
caught their breath.  "I thought you said those guys couldn't change 
shape."

Jefferson shook his head, gasping.  "Something new on me."  He replied, 
keeping his head down between his knees.

"What do we do now?"  Maurice inquired.  "Write a report that says we 
were attacked by werewolves?"

Jefferson shook his head.  "No.  We go find someone who can help.

***
Jesse surged through the night, a creature of swiftness and raw power.  
He could have caught the two detectives, but it would have been too 
easy, he wanted to make them suffer for a long time.  He ran with the 
pack, covering the ground in seconds.
 
They ran away from town, into the foothills surrounding the small town.  
They came upon a hogan, a satellite dish connected to the pentagram 
shaped roof.  Bursting through the walls, the pack ravaged the 
occupants, tearing out their throats and feasting.  Afterwards they 
turned to the small herd of sheep in the pen next to the hogan, and  ate 
their way through he herd.  Their appetite seemed unquenchable, as they 
found a second homestead where they repeated their savagery. 

Jesse feasted, savoring the taste of flesh, and when he became full he 
killed for pure pleasure.  Home after home fell to their jaws, they 
stayed in the dark, off the beaten trails, finding hogans, trailers, and 
houses of terrified people.  The power Jesse felt was enormous, he 
howled in ecstasy as they made teir way to the main city of Tuba.

They tore through the streets, terrorizing anyone unlucky enough to be 
in their path.  They visited home after home of enemies to the pack.  
Some of whom Jesse knew, and he was eager show his devotion to his 
newfound friends.  

After what seemed like a short time, Jesse looked towards the east, and 
was astounded to see a ribbon of blue light outlining the horizon.  It 
was almost morning!  They raced back to the site of the tipi, which now 
lay in ruins around the fire. Jesse sat back on his haunches and watched 
as the rest of the pack reverted to human form.  He howled in 
exaltation. Never had he felt more powerful.  Never had he felt such 
belonging.  This had fulfilled him in a way nothing else had; school, 
the gangs, friends, nothing.  He had finally found his place among the 
folds of the Wolf Pack, and would dedicate his life to its' service.  He 
had a reason to live, a definition of his existence.

He watched as the other wolves slowly transformed into men, as he felt a 
slight change in himself.  Their pelts and claws pulled back into their 
bodies, as their skin shone in the morning sun.

After a time, the other  men of the pack looked at him, expectantly  and 
then in alarm.  They started to speak rapidly in Navajo, and encircled 
him, puzzled looks on their faces.  He stared down at himself and 
trembeled when he did not change back. What was wrong!  The sun was 
well risen yet he still had not transformed. All the pack members made 
the transformation back to human form except for him, he was left in the 
form of a canine.

"I see we have a Chosen One in our midst!"  The pack leader exclaimed, 
staring intently at Jesse. 

"The spirits have chosen you to remain among them, in the form of our 
most important of ancestor, Coyote! You will always have a special place 
with us here, remember that on your journey."  He intoned solemnly. 
Jesse threw back his head and howled in anguish at what he had lost.

***

"He is caught in the spirit world, and can not return."  Norman Etsitty 
reported, as they approached the clearing.  Maurice and Jefferson had 
enlisted the aid of the medicine man to help them in their efforts 
against the Skinwalkers.  They had visited the carnage the pack had 
caused, officially reporting it them as wild dog attacks.  They had 
returned to the clearing to find a lone coyote lying near the embers of 
the ceremonial fire.

"What can we do?"  Jefferson asked approaching the form.

Etsitty shook his head.  "Nothing."  He continued.  "He sold his soul to 
those jackals, there is nothing I can do for him now."  His voice 
cracked with grief for the ones who had been lost in the night.

"He must have done something to offend the spirits for them to keep him 
like this. He will live the rest of his life as you see him now."  The 
medicine man fell silent, regarding the supine form.

"This group is very powerful.  I have never experienced anything like it 
before. It will take a number of us Ha'atali'i to conquer it."  He 
sighed, looking at the risen sun.
The coyote came abruptly awake.  It saw the two men and roared.  It 
leaped towards Maurice, aiming directly for the throat.  

Jefferson whipped out his pistol and shot the beast in mid-stride. 

It fell, sides heaving, on the sandstone.  As the life ran out of Jesse 
Begay, the medicine man intoned a number of phrases in Navajo, and 
closed the youth's eyes.

Maurice  shook his head, gazing at the youth.  He was a symbol of many 
young Navajos, caught between time, places, and tradition.  They could 
not fully function in the white man's world, and had lost much of their 
traditional heritage.  This boy was not a victim of the Wolves. or of 
Jefferson's gun, he was a victim of the society in which he lived.

After he had caught his breath, Maurice wondered about the prayer.

"Did you give him absolution or something?"  Maurice inquired as he 
loaded the boy's body into the squad car. Navajo tradition would not 
allow either of the other men to touch a corpse.

"No, that was a prayer of protection, warding us from his spirit.  His 
life was bad, and his spirit could cause sickness, become vengeful."  
The medicine man shook his head, closed his eyes, and touched corn 
pollen to his tongue.

Maurice looked at Jefferson.  "Guess this is all over now."  He 
summarized.

"Nope.  Not by a long shot." Jefferson replied as he climbed into the 
passenger's seat.
 
Maurice climbed in, and they drove towards the rising sun, and the new 
day.

Fin
-----------

Please send comments to <mbnels@hotmail.com>

May be posted to TSA only.
* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to Mike Nelson <mbnels@hotmail.com> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
------ The discussion list for the Transformation Story Archive ---------
WWW-List-Archive at:   http://www.t0.or.at/cgi-bin/thomash-lwgate/tsa-talk
for help write to:                               tsa-talk-request@t0.or.at
to get human help:                                       thomash@t0.or.at
From powellm@ihug.co.nz Wed Nov 20 12:30:15 1996
Date: Fri, 15 Nov 1996 15:56:15 +1300
From: "M.Powell" <powellm@ihug.co.nz>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: SRU     ---    The Fight For The World    (Part2)

    [The following text is in the "ISO-8859-1" character set]
    [Your display is set for the "US-ASCII" character set]
    [Some characters may be displayed incorrectly]

PART TWO.....

A young man suddenly appeared inside the throne room of the Lord Wizard
Vellor, which suddenly made everyone in the large room jump in fright.
Smiling the young wizard stepped forward and bowed to the man that sat
with great pride on his throne.

"My lord Vellor, I have important news for you." The wizard announced over
the mummers of the crowd around the throne room. He had never made an
appears like this before, and he felt really trilled to be the center of
attention for once. 

The large man raise up off his throne and addressed the crowd that were
still surprised at the blunt disregard for the rules that the young wizard
had just done.

"QUIET!" the lord and king of this land shouted out above the mummers of
the crowd, which made everyone quickly stop and listen.

Looking down at the kneeling wizard Vellor smiled, remembering the first
time he had popped into his old masters personal room; the look of
surprise on his teachers face was something he would always remember. Yet
Vellor hadn't popped in to just supply information, he had popped in to
take control of the wizards school, to kill his teacher, and father.

"You are lucky you have found me in a good mood young wizard Malor. If you
hadn't you would be dead right now." Vellor shouted down at the young
scared wizard.

Young Malor clawed forward, and begged forgiveness, while trying to
explain the importance of his information. Vellor in reply kicked the
young wizard down the small stairs to the center of the throne room.

"It does matter Malor, you have broken a rule I can not forgive you for.
So you must be punished." Vellor stated as he raised his hands and started
a spell.

"NO! Master Lord...." Malor screamed as he tried to throw up a protection
shield, but Vellor's spell was already at work, the spell prepared and
used more the once in this very room. Malor was instantly enveloped in an
green eerie glow, that froze him then quickly started to change him. At
first his body started to shrike and then started to take on the form of a
more softer, smaller form. His clothes changed from wizard robes to a
small set of white Panties, and white bra; which fitted his now female
body with perfection. In a matter of moments his physical form was
changed, and cowering on the floor in front of Vellor there was not a man
at all, but a beautiful sexy female. So attractive all the men in the room
suddenly found themselves wide eyed, and very very excited.

"So, My sweety." Vellor laughed as he helped the young female into his
arms, "What news did you have that was so important to me?"

"When I was a man, I spied on the old man who owns the Spell Are Use
shop." the woman in his arms spoke, as if being a woman meant nothing to
her.

Vellor was then suddenly very interested "What could be so important that
an old man, even if he was a wizard could make your old self break one of
my strongest rules"

"He has just had the magical wand of Conqueror send to him." The woman
answered, as she kissed Vellor on the cheek.

"WHAT!" Vellor shouted as he pushed the young woman to the floor, and
stormed back up to his throne. There was only one person who could have
got hold of his prized item, the one item he needed to take final control
of this puny world 

"GET ME ANDREWS!" he screamed which got three men running out of the
throne room, in search of the captain of the army.

"Damn you Andrews." Vellor mutter under his breath as the flames inside
his souls rushed up and grow to exploding pitch. He leaned against his
throne, and started bring one of his most powerful spells to his mind.

"Captain Andrews Sir!" The large man said as he rushed into the throne
room, only to suddenly stop in his tracks as he saw the look he had just
received from Vellor.

Andrew's quickly grabbed for his sword, but not before his body started to
freeze. Swearing inside his mind he tried to move, just an inch; but it
was totally impossible, he was now at Vellor's Mercy.

"Make it quick, you ugly evil creature." Andrews shouted out towards the
man he had been trying to bring down in secret for so many years.

"WHY ANDREW!" Vellor screamed as he felt the anger take total control of
his body and mind. "WHY DID YOU BETRAY ME!"

Andrew's felt heat rush up inside his body, and he knew it was all about
to end. With his last thought he wished the old man luck in destroying the
wand, and defending himself against Vellor. Then with a flash of light,
Andrews body became pure energy and disappeared.

Vellor, felt the pressure of his anger fade, but he knew that Andrews must
have had the help of at least one wizard to send the package to the old
man. He had traitors in his army, and he would find them; and when he did,
they wouldn't get of as light as Captain Andrews; They would all know why
he was the most powerful of the wizards, they would know his personal type
of torture. However first........ he had the visit an old shop keeping
wizard.

END OF PART TWO
-- 
=copywrite M.Powell (1996)=
* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to "M.Powell" <powellm@ihug.co.nz> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
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From powellm@ihug.co.nz Wed Nov 20 12:30:18 1996
Date: Fri, 15 Nov 1996 17:14:54 +1300
From: "M.Powell" <powellm@ihug.co.nz>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: SRU      ----      THE FIGHT FOR THE WORLD (Part 3)

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This little note to BILL..... Don't worry Bill I'll make everything better
at the end of the story  :)

PART THREE

"Thank you and do come again" the old man said as his last customer left
his lovely shop, knowing darn well that when the greedy young boy used the
potion, he would never even remember he had ever been human, yet alone his
shop.

"Well, another young lad, who should be careful what he wished for" The
old man said as he went to lock up the store for the evening.

"Hold please sir!" shouted a voice, that belonged to a young teenage male
that was running towards the shop.

Cursing under his breath he opened the door to let the kid in, then he
turned to the kid closing the door behind him. "May I help you Peter?"

The young man smiled, and nodded. "You are really good at that old man,
it's a pity it doesn't work on another wizard that is hiding his
identity." The young man laughed as he suddenly changed in front of the
old man, and became Vellor.

The Old Man, backed off and stared in wonder and surprise at the sight of
the one person he would never have thought would have come to his shop.
Then he remembered the wand, and he knew the reason for Vellor to be here
at this time. Glaring at the evil wizard, he could feel the magic energies
building up around him.

"You have something of mine old man." Vellor's words breaking the silence
that had followed him revealing himself.

"I didn't know Conqueror belonged to you Vellor, I thought it was supposed
to have been destroyed by the order of the high wizards years ago." the
old man answered, while he prepared a major protection spell.

"Old Man, even you know that Conqueror can not be destroyed, not even by
the High Wizards. It is an old item, from the beginning of time, an item
of the gods. I want it back Old Man, I won't ask again. Either you give it
to me, or I take it. Your chose."

The old man knew that a battle against Vellor would end up in himself
losing, so he had to stale for time, just a little; He had to prepare.

"Vellor, what would you want with the wand. You have your own country to
rule over, the High Wizards let you take that without interfering. What
are you now after...." He didn't bother stopping, as the penny dropped.

"Yes Old Man, I am after controlling this puny world. With my powers and
the wand, I can take it when ever I want. So if you don't get it now, your
going to know how your customers feel." Vellor laughed as he moved closer
to the Old man.

"Oh no you don't." The old man said, casting a spell on the shelving next
to Vellor, which flew up and fell on top of Vellor as he approached.

The old man dashed for the back room, and placed a lock spell on the door,
which he knew Vellor could get though, but it would give him the time he
needed. Moving over to the vault door, he cast a greater lock spell on the
vault door, that even Vellor couldn't break without years of learning the
old mans personal codes. Then he moved into an attack position, he
couldn't run, there was nowhere to run as Vellor could with eases find
him. The old man just hoped that with all heart, the other wizards would
hear the battle, and come to help.

It took a shorter time for Vellor to enter the back room then the old man
thought it would. Instead of going though the door, Vellor exploded a hole
though the wall, and walked into the back room his face red from anger.

"Old Man, you are no match for me!" He shouted, as he threw a spell of
fire at the old man.

Reaching into his cloak, the Old Man pulled out a small mirror, and he
prayed it would work. As the ball of energy flashed against the surface of
the mirror the old man flew back from the recoil. Yet at least he was
still alive.

Throwing his own spell, he hoped Vellor wasn't as good as they said he
was. Yet his hope was shattered as Vellor laughed and walked out of the
fire that had appeared around him.

"Your little tricks Old Man, shall not stop me" he laughed out, as he
walked over and grabbed the old man by the neck. "You shall give me the
wand now, your you'll give it to me in other ways."

Choking from the pressure against his neck, the Old Man screamed in his
mind for his friends, but there was no answer.

Not wanting to wait any longer Vellor started his strong transformation
spell "Then you shall know want all you customers fell Old Man!" 

As the spell ran thought the Old Man's body he felt his body changing, his
body getting smaller, and softer. 
He felt lumps growing on his chest, which quickly grew into large breasts,
this happened along with his groin suddenly getting very painful. He felt
all with his body change, his magic start to fade, until it was no longer
inside him. He knew he couldn't stop the spell, he knew he was lost. It
was when the spell started to attack his mind that he knew he had really
lost, and with his last male thought he used the only old trick he could
think of, and with all his strength he store his memories and thoughts
into his subconscious mind, leaving his conscious mind total free to be
taken over by the spell. Within seconds his conscious mind changed and
became a young bimbo female, not even remembering that she was once a
great old wizard.

Lowering the female to the floor, Vellor took the girl by the hand and
lead her over to the vault. "OK sweety, tell me how to open the vault."

The cute young woman looked up to Vellor and smiled, "What vault my
master?" she cooed.

Vellor frown and placed a hand on the girls head, as he started to read
her thoughts. Then with a scream he pushed the girl to the floor. 

"DAMN YOU OLD MAN!!!" With a flash of energy he transported the young
female out of the room, and out into the world to serve the first man she
found.

Turning back to the vault door he sent spell after spell to try and open
the door, only for all of them to fail. Scream in rage he disappeared back
to his castle, to work on the problem.

Cowering under the table the old mans dog, came out looking for it's
friend and master. Sitting down he started to howl, crying from loneliness
and the evil left in the air.

END OF PART THREE

-- 
=copywrite M.Powell (1996)=
* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to "M.Powell" <powellm@ihug.co.nz> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
------ The discussion list for the Transformation Story Archive ---------
WWW-List-Archive at:   http://www.t0.or.at/cgi-bin/thomash-lwgate/tsa-talk
for help write to:                               tsa-talk-request@t0.or.at
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From apearson@d.umn.edu Wed Nov 20 12:30:22 1996
Date: Thu, 14 Nov 1996 23:11:27 -0600 (CST)
From: arthur pearson <apearson@d.umn.edu>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: Story: Flight


The first part of Flight. Enjoy.
Do not distribute other than to put on the transformation archive, if it so 
fits.


Flight

	He was in the house again. The Milforer mansion. They were 
chasing him through the halls, trying to scare him. Trying to make him 
think that they were actual ghosts. But he knew better. He knew the real 
ghosts were behind the boys.
	He shouldnÕt have listened to them. But he wanted so much to be 
part of their club. They had a treehouse, a crude elevator, and the 
rusted out shell of a van where they whipped up their explosives.
	But he didnÕt even know the name of the club. Not that it 
mattered. The boys were oblivious to the moaning spirits behind them.
	Ajax was running only because he knew that if he let the boys get 
up to him, theyÕd grab him and hold him down long enough for the real 
ghosts to kill them all.
	This time, as he got to the 5th floor of the 5 floor mansion, he 
didnÕt run down the hall and jump out the window in stark raving fear. He 
collected himself, being reminded of Groundhog day. He had gone through 
the house so many times before. Each time, heÕd change something and the 
ending was a little different. Now he scrambled back around the banister, 
barely avoiding one of the boyÕs grasping hands. His feet punched the 
weak floorboards as he saw his goal: the pull-down attic stairs. A quick 
jump and pull, and the stairs were down.
	One of the boys had tripped, and they were  scrambling to get to 
their feet. Ajax gave a quick laugh. While they were being occupied, two 
of their number were silently claimed by the whisps of black cloth heÕd 
pegged as evil spirits.
	He was up the stairs in a flash, panting with exhaustion. The 
attic was bare, no windows. No way out. It was a dead end.

	The door opened up and Kelly Fergerson looked in on her son. The 
room was spotless for once. Only time heÕd let her into his room was when 
he was sick. Only time heÕd let her clean up.
	Ajax was moving in his bed, restless in his sleep. Occasionally, 
heÕd make a tiny grunt that had more air than sound to it.
	A hand gently rested on her shoulder and her husband looked into 
the room as she looked to him. ÒHe keeps having nightmares, John. He 
canÕt get any rest this way.Ó
	ÒDid he take the sedative the doctor perscribed?Ó
	Kelly looked back into the room with concern. ÒYes, but it isnÕt 
doing anything.Ó
	ÒWeÕll call him in the morning, dear.Ó

	Knowing the best way to handle this bad situation, he simply ran 
away from the hole in the atticÕs floor, and looked deeper into the 
corners draped in dusk. There was always a chance heÕd find some hidden 
key in a dead end. Something he might use to get out before they killed 
him again.
	The boys were laughing. TheyÕd gotten to the top of the attic 
stairs and were running after him. He felt their tennis shoes whap the 
floorboards in time with his shoes.
	Wait! There! A hole in the roof... Ajax did a quick turn and ran 
toward the hole in the sloped ceiling. The boys changed direction to 
catch up with him.
	Ajax easily crept out of the hole and was standing on the sloped 
roof. Sliding shingles, dead leaves, fallen branches, an old frisbee, and 
a birdÕs nest spread out before him at a 25 degree angle. He hurried 
toward the far end of the house. There were jeers from behind him. From 
two voices. He padded over the hump of the house and started toward the 
far corner of the roof.
	A small pile of leaves that he stepped in shot out from under his 
foot and he fell heavily to the roof.
	Sliding.
	He was so close! Maybe if the spirits killed all the boys before 
it got to him, he wouldnÕt die. If he could buy enough time...
	He latched on to some shingles, but they broke free, slowing him 
down just a little bit. He twisted his body to gain some friction. The 
friction of the belt on his jeans helped slow him down just enough for 
him to slow down. He was breathing a sigh of relief, decellerating down 
the roof, just when he felt his feet go off the edge... 
	And onto a rain gutter. The gutter stretched out with a hard 
creek under AjaxÕs weight, but it, combined with his belt and his hands, 
stopped him.
	His heart was making his chest do push-ups against the roof. A 
quick look up revealed one boy was left.
	Whoever he was, he was clad in a goblinÕs mask and costume, 
complete with a plastic spiked club and smelly ripped clothes. The night 
sky behind him glowed crisply behind him, making the surrounding gigantic 
trees black, clawing shiloettes behind him.
	There was another shiloette behind the boy. The shiloette of one 
of those evil spirits.
	ÒAjax! DonÕt move!Ó The boy shouted, finally gaining his voice. 
ÒIÕll find a rope or----Ó
	ÒLook out!Ó Cried Ajax, too late. The boy sank into the blackness 
of the spirit behind him.
	And then there was nothing. No more spirits. No more boys. Just 
him and the roof of the Milforer Mansion and the breeze. He smiled to 
himself and carefully began pulling himself back onto the roof.
	He did it. Finally, after he couldnÕt remember how many nights of 
this stupid nightmare, heÕd won. ÒNow tell him what heÕs won!Ó Ajax 
muttered, game show style. ÒA case of turtle wax, an all-expense paid 
tour of Belgium, and restful sleep for the next decade.Ó
	Ajax was up to his knees near the ege of the house when he heard 
the strange rustle of cloth he thought he was rid of. He whipped his head 
up in the direction of the noise.
	There was a white cloth billowing up over the spine of the roof. 
For a moment, Ajax wondered at why this last one was white while all the 
others were black. Then he decided that it was one last spirit. One for him.
	He turned, and jumped.
	And felt something grab his ankle, holding him to the edge of the 
roof, swinging him around, bringing him right up to----
	Whap! A liquid pain pressed from his face and into his eyes and 
the roots of his hair. ÒAaaow! Man!Ó He held his nose and craned his neck 
around. CouldnÕt see... He twisted and looked and saw that his leg was 
not grasped by the spirit.
	HeÕd hooked it on the gutter, which was even now tearing rotten 
wood out of the roof, dipping him lunge by lunge toward the ground.
	Not fast enough. If he didnÕt fall soon, that white spirit would 
drift right over the side of the roof and get him.
	Quickly doing a stomach crunch, he tried to free his legs.
	The sheet flowed over the roof and paused above him. It just 
stayed there, not moving for a moment. Allowing Ajax enough time to lose 
all hope. Then, it dipped around him and then...
	It stopped below him. Right underneath him. It was waiting.
	Ajax struggled now to get back onto the roof. The gutter wasnÕt 
cooperating. Although he managed go get a hold of the gutter, it was 
lurching, steel peg by steel peg, away from the roof. Ajax somehow 
managed to get his legs above the gutter, and he hauled himself up on top 
of it. The roof was just above him. He reached up, and grabbed onto soft 
wood. It crumbled under his hands and he lost his balance, tipping 
forward into the wall.
	He tried to hold his hands to the wall and his feet to the 
gutter, but the gutter swung too far away from the building now, and his 
hands were scraping down the wall very quickly and his body twisted into 
the wrong angle, still trying to use the gutter as purchase. His left 
hand found a woodpecker hole just as his feet lost their footing on the 
gutter. He brought his right hand around and clutched at the small hole 
in the wall.
	A twisted head look and he saw that the sheet was behind him. 
Somehow he knew it was through playing around. It shot into his back, 
causing him to cry in pain.
	Great shudders caused his body to buck against the wall. Then, he 
felt the pain in his back.
	The pain he only felt when he was awake. That was the signal for 
him that he was waking up.
	His back split open at the point of the sheetÕs entry, releasing 
the pent up molten fear of the last two weeks in a single blast. The wall 
he was clutching was changing, turning into something else, something softer.
	Turning into his bed. The dream was fading, the sensation of the 
sheet and the strange thing with his back dimming.
	He was face down on the bed, his head to one side. As he blinked 
the last of sleep away, he realized that he felt a lot better. Great, in 
fact. Completely rested. He shrugged the sheets off him and kneeled up in 
bed, slouched toward his pillow. Then, he kneeled up and stretched his 
arms, arching his back, spreading his wings far enough to brush the walls 
of his room.
	Ajax immediately shrugged his shoulders and clenched his fists in fear.
	He sat there, kneeling on his bed, his wings scrunched up in the 
same shrug of fear as his shoulders. He just waited for a while.
	Then, he let his head turn around, taking in his room as it 
slowly edged toward his back. His clean dresser, his grandfatherÕs old 
toybox now filled with his toys, the stupid wallpaper, and then, his wing.
	It was real. Covered in sky blue feathers. A second pair of limbs 
on his back he instinctively knew he could control with a thought. He 
reached his hand around and touched it. Velvet smooth, thin slats of 
wonder. Feathers. Real feathers. Releasing the wing, he spread it out 
until it brushed the wall again. He turned his head to the other wing and 
did the same. He flexed them a couple times, too shocked to think clearly.
	As soon as he started exploring his new appendages, he stopped 
and realized something.
	He didnÕt want to be a freak. Depression shuddered through him, 
curling him into a fetal position and folding his wings across his back. 
He sobbed, sending shudders through his body and wings.

	Kelly stopped at the sound coming from her sonÕs room. She 
cautiously approached because she thought she recognized them. She was 
right. Ajax was crying. The motherÕs look of worry and concern instantly 
slapped onto her face and she silently opened the door...



-- 
-The Intolerable Picklejuice  (apearson@d.umn.edu)
Visit: http://www.d.umn.edu/~apearson/
"The mob is getting ugly--" "They had a head start!"
"The fun never stops with the fun factory! Hang on, Max!"
"Cheeze whizzorama, sam-- that's neat!"
       -Sam and Max
* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to arthur pearson <apearson@d.umn.edu> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
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From powellm@ihug.co.nz Wed Nov 20 12:30:41 1996
Date: Sat, 16 Nov 1996 11:43:29 +1300
From: "M.Powell" <powellm@ihug.co.nz>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: Story : SRU   :   FIGHT FOR THE WORLD (Part 4/?)

    [The following text is in the "ISO-8859-1" character set]
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PART FOUR	-	The New Life / The Hero

The flash of energy appeared in the dark ally, as the gang of six were
just about to leave for home. As they ducked for cover they all felt the
energy build to extreme heights. One of the six got caught in the build up
of pure energy and screamed as his body exploded into energy its self.

As suddenly as it had appeared, it vanished, leaving the ally once again
quiet and dark. After a few minutes the first person to move was the
leader of the gang called the Sharkheads, to his surprise where the energy
build up had started there was a naked female with long blond hair. What
surprised and pleased him the most was, she was laying on the floor total
naked. Moving towards her he looked over her extremely feminine body and
he smiled.

"Yes." He said as he reached down and touched the beautiful creature that
had appeared from nowhere.

With that touch the woman awoke, and looked straight into the gang leaders
eyes. The leader had learnt from a young age to read the emotions in
people by using their eyes, and he was sure he had read three quick
flashes of emotion from this girl. First Wonder, then fear, then desire.

The girl reached up and took the man by the hand pulling him towards her,
kisses his lips as he reached her face. He couldn't believe this was
happening, what had he done to please the gods. Reaching down he undid his
trousers and pulled them down to release his hard member, which in an
instant was in the warm soft hands of the loveliest creature he had ever
seen.

The other gang members were also mesmerize over the show that was
revealing its self to them. All of them wanting a piece of the action, but
knowing they would have to wait. Then one of the back members fell forward
and landed on top of one of the other front men. In the confusion the
second gang member turned and went to hit the first, yet stop when he saw
who had pushed the first man into him.

Standing behind the gang, there stood a tall man dressed in a cape and
some type of  black body-suit. On the chest of the suit there was the sign
of a sword, which instantly sent fear though the gang member. Moving
forward the cape men grabbed two of the other gang members and quickly
knocked their heads together, knock them both to the floor unconscious.
The other gang members quickly counter-attacked, yet they all found
themselves losing the quick battle. One man quickly pulled out a knife yet
found himself laying on the floor faster then he had removed the knife
from his pocket. He then felt a quick punch to the head which sent him
into unconscious along with the other gang members.

The capped man walked behind the leader of the gang, as he still had sex
with the young fair maiden. Grabbing the man by the hair he lifted him of
the ground and threw him towards the large garbage bin. As the man crashed
against the bin, the capped man bent down and helped the young maiden up,
and into his arms.

"Don't worry young one, I am here to pro^Å.." but before he finished he
felt a flash of pain run though his back, with he knew was a knife.

Dropping the girl again, he turned and faced the gang leader who was now
holding a very large knife. With the close of his fist, a large sword
appeared from nowhere inside the capped mans hand.

"So you wish to fight." The capped man said as he pointed the sword
towards the gang leader, "Then let me first tell you my name.."

The gang leader backed of slightly, realizing suddenly that he was dealing
with just any man in a stupid costume. His own knife was the largest he
could find, but that sword was at least two times longer, and looked one
hell of a lot sharper.

"You are facing the hero of the night, you are fighting the lighting the
brightens the shadows, you are^Å.." The capped man repeated.

"Oh shut up!" The gang leader shouted, as he lunged forward with his
knife, only to have it turned away by the sword of the capped man.

"For I am Darkrider, and you, are about to die." 

The gang leader stopped, and stared right into the capped covered eyes of
his enemy. The fear took over, as the eyes he now read were going to kill
him. Backing away from the capped man, he let the knife drop quickly to
the floor and dropping to the floor himself he started begging for
forgiveness.

Darkrider moved up to the leader, and raised his sword for the final blow,
bringing the sword down with great speed.  Yet the sword head the man,
flat against his head, knocking him to the floor; out like a light.

"Young man, you should never trust what you read in a persons eyes"
Darkrider smiled as he checked him for a pulse, and was relieved when he
found one. He had never needed to kill yet, and that was the way he wanted
to keep it.

Walking back to the young lady, who was sitting there crying, he helped
her back up again.
He could feel her trembling under him, and felt a strong urge to kiss her,
yet deep down the magic of the amulet he wore controlled the urges. With a
sudden glow of green, he felt his amulets energy flow over the young
maiden, which started to calm her down, and remove the feelings Darkrider
was having towards her.

"Calm sweet maiden, you are safe now." Darkrider said as he raped her into
his cape.

As she calmed down he felt her strength start to return, and she started
to stand more firmly against him. He wasn't going to ask her questions as
yet, she needed warmth, and safety. With a thought he felt the power of
his amulet build up, and with a sudden flash he was no longer in the ally,
but inside his large mansion.

END OF PART FOUR
-- 
=copywrite M.Powell (1996)=
* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to "M.Powell" <powellm@ihug.co.nz> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
------ The discussion list for the Transformation Story Archive ---------
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for help write to:                               tsa-talk-request@t0.or.at
to get human help:                                       thomash@t0.or.at
From powellm@ihug.co.nz Wed Nov 20 12:30:44 1996
Date: Sat, 16 Nov 1996 11:47:50 +1300
From: "M.Powell" <powellm@ihug.co.nz>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: RE SRU : FIGHT FOR THE WORLD

    [The following text is in the "ISO-8859-1" character set]
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Here is a little note about the story that I am writing...

Well I was going to do a short story, but as writers out there know,
sometime things like this just seem to build into something bigger.....

In the first part of this story I had mentioned a ring of
transformation... If any of you guys/girls out there what to use that in a
story please feel free to, as I'm not going to be able to use it in this
story now, it's going down a totally different road to the one I first
thought of..... 

All So, I hope having a hero in SRU isn't against the rules for SRU, but I
well explain more in the story how he became a hero.. and I hope you won't
get disappointed over the role he well be playing.. :)

At present I can't but a end part on this story, and it's going to last a
little longer then I thought... So at present please enjoy the story, and
any comments on ideas for the story, please send...

Also on the note of The old mans name, at present I don't feel I need one,
but coming up to the end of the story I would like to have at least one
name to call him, so ideas on a great name would be wonderful.  :)

Ma'lisa
-- 
=copywrite M.Powell (1996)=
* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to "M.Powell" <powellm@ihug.co.nz> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
------ The discussion list for the Transformation Story Archive ---------
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for help write to:                               tsa-talk-request@t0.or.at
to get human help:                                       thomash@t0.or.at
From powellm@ihug.co.nz Wed Nov 20 12:30:51 1996
Date: Sat, 16 Nov 1996 11:53:50 +1300
From: "M.Powell" <powellm@ihug.co.nz>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: Hi Sweety My Story I'm writing at present...

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Hi Angie.... How are things... I hope to see you on IRC tonight...

Well as I said, I like to think of myself as a writer, even a little one.
So I'm sending you my story that I'm writing at present... I'll be sending
the other Spells Are Use stories later, so you understand what the Old Man
does...

Your comments would be great sweety....

Luv
Ma'lisa


				The Fight For The World
				Set in the SRU Universe
				    By Ma'lisa Powell

PART ONE		Conqueror Re-Found

Located in his back room, the old man collected his thoughts for the day,
and looked over his logs of sales and transformations for the week. He was
doing well, and the stock was still coming in; he had just received a few
new packages from other wizards, and he couldn't wait to check them out.

Moving the logs to a side he took the first package and opened the
magically sealed box, finding inside a normal transformation ring, that
would change the wearer into the first thing that the closed human most
desired. After doing a quick identification spell on it, he suddenly
realized it had a nice little twist to it, which made him smile. He would
have to get this one tried out sometime soon.

He opened another of the magical packages, and found a strange looking
wand. It wasn't something he usual would receive from the other wizards,
and his collectors out there in the universe. He picked the wand up and
looked at it in more detail, running his hands over the red ruby ball that
rested on the top of the grand golden wand. It was then he noticed the
word engraved on the wand, and he read it out aloud.

"Conqueror" 

With a strange feeling he turned his face up, in confusion. He knew that
name from somewhere, but it had been such a long long time, when he had
just been a boy, a young growing wizard.

It was then hit him like a flash of lightning. In fright he dropped the
wand to the table, and backed away from the table in hurry. Sweat poured
down his brow, as he start to calm himself down.

"My Gods above." He swore as he tried to settle his breathing make down to
normal. Pain flashing though his chest at the over working of his insides.
Total and pure adrenalin rushing to his brain, and body.

Collecting himself,  he moved back to the table, feeling his sudden fright
calm back down. As he sat, thousands of thoughts shot passed his mind,
which started to give him a very quick headache.

"Why now" he mutter again as he eyed the wand laying on the table looking
so basic, yet so dangerous.

Reaching across to get the wand again, and looked over the object that
created more memories of horror and pain then any other object he ever
known. He reached for the package, and started a spell to see if he could
find the source of this package. Nothing, whoever had sent this had hide
their sending signature.

"Damn" the old man swore as he thought back to the first time he had ever
seen this wand, the first time he had ever felt it's effect. He remembered
the legends, the stories; he could still remember the feeling of it's
power as it had swiped though him.

With a flash of anger, and dread, he placed the wand back into the
package, and quickly sealed it again, placing a powerful lock spell on the
box. Taking the box, he walked over to his large vault of items, and
opened the large door with a wave of his hand. He walked to the back of
the vault and placed the box into a small safe like box; casting another
spell on the box he walked out of the vault again, locking the vault door
behind him.

"There, you'll never be a harm to anyone again." The old wizard smiled as
he heard the door lock from the inside. 

As he walked back out into the shop, he failed to notice a small fly
polymorph from a fly into a small blue bird, which flew up into the air,
and out of the open window in the back of the shop, headed off towards the
sky.

END OF PART ONE.

PART TWO.....

A young man suddenly appeared inside the throne room of the Lord Wizard
Vellor, which suddenly made everyone in the large room jump in fright.
Smiling the young wizard stepped forward and bowed to the man that sat
with great pride on his throne.

"My lord Vellor, I have important news for you." The wizard announced over
the mummers of the crowd around the throne room. He had never made an
appears like this before, and he felt really trilled to be the center of
attention for once. 

The large man raise up off his throne and addressed the crowd that were
still surprised at the blunt disregard for the rules that the young wizard
had just done.

"QUIET!" the lord and king of this land shouted out above the mummers of
the crowd, which made everyone quickly stop and listen.

Looking down at the kneeling wizard Vellor smiled, remembering the first
time he had popped into his old masters personal room; the look of
surprise on his teachers face was something he would always remember. Yet
Vellor hadn't popped in to just supply information, he had popped in to
take control of the wizards school, to kill his teacher, and father.

"You are lucky you have found me in a good mood young wizard Malor. If you
hadn't you would be dead right now." Vellor shouted down at the young
scared wizard.

Young Malor clawed forward, and begged forgiveness, while trying to
explain the importance of his information. Vellor in reply kicked the
young wizard down the small stairs to the center of the throne room.

"It does matter Malor, you have broken a rule I can not forgive you for.
So you must be punished." Vellor stated as he raised his hands and started
a spell.

"NO! Master Lord...." Malor screamed as he tried to throw up a protection
shield, but Vellor's spell was already at work, the spell prepared and
used more the once in this very room. Malor was instantly enveloped in an
green eerie glow, that froze him then quickly started to change him. At
first his body started to shrike and then started to take on the form of a
more softer, smaller form. His clothes changed from wizard robes to a
small set of white Panties, and white bra; which fitted his now female
body with perfection. In a matter of moments his physical form was
changed, and cowering on the floor in front of Vellor there was not a man
at all, but a beautiful sexy female. So attractive all the men in the room
suddenly found themselves wide eyed, and very very excited.

"So, My sweety." Vellor laughed as he helped the young female into his
arms, "What news did you have that was so important to me?"

"When I was a man, I spied on the old man who owns the Spell Are Use
shop." the woman in his arms spoke, as if being a woman meant nothing to
her.

Vellor was then suddenly very interested "What could be so important that
an old man, even if he was a wizard could make your old self break one of
my strongest rules"

"He has just had the magical wand of Conqueror send to him." The woman
answered, as she kissed Vellor on the cheek.

"WHAT!" Vellor shouted as he pushed the young woman to the floor, and
stormed back up to his throne. There was only one person who could have
got hold of his prized item, the one item he needed to take final control
of this puny world 

"GET ME ANDREWS!" he screamed which got three men running out of the
throne room, in search of the captain of the army.

"Damn you Andrews." Vellor mutter under his breath as the flames inside
his souls rushed up and grow to exploding pitch. He leaned against his
throne, and started bring one of his most powerful spells to his mind.

"Captain Andrews Sir!" The large man said as he rushed into the throne
room, only to suddenly stop in his tracks as he saw the look he had just
received from Vellor.

Andrew's quickly grabbed for his sword, but not before his body started to
freeze. Swearing inside his mind he tried to move, just an inch; but it
was totally impossible, he was now at Vellor's Mercy.

"Make it quick, you ugly evil creature." Andrews shouted out towards the
man he had been trying to bring down in secret for so many years.

"WHY ANDREW!" Vellor screamed as he felt the anger take total control of
his body and mind. "WHY DID YOU BETRAY ME!"

Andrew's felt heat rush up inside his body, and he knew it was all about
to end. With his last thought he wished the old man luck in destroying the
wand, and defending himself against Vellor. Then with a flash of light,
Andrews body became pure energy and disappeared.

Vellor, felt the pressure of his anger fade, but he knew that Andrews must
have had the help of at least one wizard to send the package to the old
man. He had traitors in his army, and he would find them; and when he did,
they wouldn't get of as light as Captain Andrews; They would all know why
he was the most powerful of the wizards, they would know his personal type
of torture. However first........ he had the visit an old shop keeping
wizard.

END OF PART TWO

PART THREE

"Thank you and do come again" the old man said as his last customer left
his lovely shop, knowing darn well that when the greedy young boy used the
potion, he would never even remember he had ever been human, yet alone his
shop.

"Well, another young lad, who should be careful what he wished for" The
old man said as he went to lock up the store for the evening.

"Hold please sir!" shouted a voice, that belonged to a young teenage male
that was running towards the shop.

Cursing under his breath he opened the door to let the kid in, then he
turned to the kid closing the door behind him. "May I help you Peter?"

The young man smiled, and nodded. "You are really good at that old man,
it's a pity it doesn't work on another wizard that is hiding his
identity." The young man laughed as he suddenly changed in front of the
old man, and became Vellor.

The Old Man, backed off and stared in wonder and surprise at the sight of
the one person he would never have thought would have come to his shop.
Then he remembered the wand, and he knew the reason for Vellor to be here
at this time. Glaring at the evil wizard, he could feel the magic energies
building up around him.

"You have something of mine old man." Vellor's words breaking the silence
that had followed him revealing himself.

"I didn't know Conqueror belonged to you Vellor, I thought it was supposed
to have been destroyed by the order of the high wizards years ago." the
old man answered, while he prepared a major protection spell.

"Old Man, even you know that Conqueror can not be destroyed, not even by
the High Wizards. It is an old item, from the beginning of time, an item
of the gods. I want it back Old Man, I won't ask again. Either you give it
to me, or I take it. Your chose."

The old man knew that a battle against Vellor would end up in himself
losing, so he had to stale for time, just a little; He had to prepare.

"Vellor, what would you want with the wand. You have your own country to
rule over, the High Wizards let you take that without interfering. What
are you now after...." He didn't bother stopping, as the penny dropped.

"Yes Old Man, I am after controlling this puny world. With my powers and
the wand, I can take it when ever I want. So if you don't get it now, your
going to know how your customers feel." Vellor laughed as he moved closer
to the Old man.

"Oh no you don't." The old man said, casting a spell on the shelving next
to Vellor, which flew up and fell on top of Vellor as he approached.

The old man dashed for the back room, and placed a lock spell on the door,
which he knew Vellor could get though, but it would give him the time he
needed. Moving over to the vault door, he cast a greater lock spell on the
vault door, that even Vellor couldn't break without years of learning the
old mans personal codes. Then he moved into an attack position, he
couldn't run, there was nowhere to run as Vellor could with eases find
him. The old man just hoped that with all heart, the other wizards would
hear the battle, and come to help.

It took a shorter time for Vellor to enter the back room then the old man
thought it would. Instead of going though the door, Vellor exploded a hole
though the wall, and walked into the back room his face red from anger.

"Old Man, you are no match for me!" He shouted, as he threw a spell of
fire at the old man.

Reaching into his cloak, the Old Man pulled out a small mirror, and he
prayed it would work. As the ball of energy flashed against the surface of
the mirror the old man flew back from the recoil. Yet at least he was
still alive.

Throwing his own spell, he hoped Vellor wasn't as good as they said he
was. Yet his hope was shattered as Vellor laughed and walked out of the
fire that had appeared around him.

"Your little tricks Old Man, shall not stop me" he laughed out, as he
walked over and grabbed the old man by the neck. "You shall give me the
wand now, your you'll give it to me in other ways."

Choking from the pressure against his neck, the Old Man screamed in his
mind for his friends, but there was no answer.

Not wanting to wait any longer Vellor started his strong transformation
spell "Then you shall know want all you customers fell Old Man!" 

As the spell ran thought the Old Man's body he felt his body changing, his
body getting smaller, and softer. 
He felt lumps growing on his chest, which quickly grew into large breasts,
this happened along with his groin suddenly getting very painful. He felt
all with his body change, his magic start to fade, until it was no longer
inside him. He knew he couldn't stop the spell, he knew he was lost. It
was when the spell started to attack his mind that he knew he had really
lost, and with his last male thought he used the only old trick he could
think of, and with all his strength he store his memories and thoughts
into his subconscious mind, leaving his conscious mind total free to be
taken over by the spell. Within seconds his conscious mind changed and
became a young bimbo female, not even remembering that she was once a
great old wizard.

Lowering the female to the floor, Vellor took the girl by the hand and
lead her over to the vault. "OK sweety, tell me how to open the vault."

The cute young woman looked up to Vellor and smiled, "What vault my
master?" she cooed.

Vellor frown and placed a hand on the girls head, as he started to read
her thoughts. Then with a scream he pushed the girl to the floor. 

"DAMN YOU OLD MAN!!!" With a flash of energy he transported the young
female out of the room, and out into the world to serve the first man she
found.

Turning back to the vault door he sent spell after spell to try and open
the door, only for all of them to fail. Scream in rage he disappeared back
to his castle, to work on the problem.

Cowering under the table the old mans dog, came out looking for it's
friend and master. Sitting down he started to howl, crying from loneliness
and the evil left in the air.

END OF PART THREE

PART FOUR	-	The New Life / The Hero

The flash of energy appeared in the dark ally, as the gang of six were
just about to leave for home. As they ducked for cover they all felt the
energy build to extreme heights. One of the six got caught in the build up
of pure energy and screamed as his body exploded into energy its self.

As suddenly as it had appeared, it vanished, leaving the ally once again
quiet and dark. After a few minutes the first person to move was the
leader of the gang called the Sharkheads, to his surprise where the energy
build up had started there was a naked female with long blond hair. What
surprised and pleased him the most was, she was laying on the floor total
naked. Moving towards her he looked over her extremely feminine body and
he smiled.

"Yes." He said as he reached down and touched the beautiful creature that
had appeared from nowhere.

With that touch the woman awoke, and looked straight into the gang leaders
eyes. The leader had learnt from a young age to read the emotions in
people by using their eyes, and he was sure he had read three quick
flashes of emotion from this girl. First Wonder, then fear, then desire.

The girl reached up and took the man by the hand pulling him towards her,
kisses his lips as he reached her face. He couldn't believe this was
happening, what had he done to please the gods. Reaching down he undid his
trousers and pulled them down to release his hard member, which in an
instant was in the warm soft hands of the loveliest creature he had ever
seen.

The other gang members were also mesmerize over the show that was
revealing its self to them. All of them wanting a piece of the action, but
knowing they would have to wait. Then one of the back members fell forward
and landed on top of one of the other front men. In the confusion the
second gang member turned and went to hit the first, yet stop when he saw
who had pushed the first man into him.

Standing behind the gang, there stood a tall man dressed in a cape and
some type of  black body-suit. On the chest of the suit there was the sign
of a sword, which instantly sent fear though the gang member. Moving
forward the cape men grabbed two of the other gang members and quickly
knocked their heads together, knock them both to the floor unconscious.
The other gang members quickly counter-attacked, yet they all found
themselves losing the quick battle. One man quickly pulled out a knife yet
found himself laying on the floor faster then he had removed the knife
from his pocket. He then felt a quick punch to the head which sent him
into unconscious along with the other gang members.

The capped man walked behind the leader of the gang, as he still had sex
with the young fair maiden. Grabbing the man by the hair he lifted him of
the ground and threw him towards the large garbage bin. As the man crashed
against the bin, the capped man bent down and helped the young maiden up,
and into his arms.

"Don't worry young one, I am here to pro^Å.." but before he finished he
felt a flash of pain run though his back, with he knew was a knife.

Dropping the girl again, he turned and faced the gang leader who was now
holding a very large knife. With the close of his fist, a large sword
appeared from nowhere inside the capped mans hand.

"So you wish to fight." The capped man said as he pointed the sword
towards the gang leader, "Then let me first tell you my name.."

The gang leader backed of slightly, realizing suddenly that he was dealing
with just any man in a stupid costume. His own knife was the largest he
could find, but that sword was at least two times longer, and looked one
hell of a lot sharper.

"You are facing the hero of the night, you are fighting the lighting the
brightens the shadows, you are^Å.." The capped man repeated.

"Oh shut up!" The gang leader shouted, as he lunged forward with his
knife, only to have it turned away by the sword of the capped man.

"For I am Darkrider, and you, are about to die." 

The gang leader stopped, and stared right into the capped covered eyes of
his enemy. The fear took over, as the eyes he now read were going to kill
him. Backing away from the capped man, he let the knife drop quickly to
the floor and dropping to the floor himself he started begging for
forgiveness.

Darkrider moved up to the leader, and raised his sword for the final blow,
bringing the sword down with great speed.  Yet the sword head the man,
flat against his head, knocking him to the floor; out like a light.

"Young man, you should never trust what you read in a persons eyes"
Darkrider smiled as he checked him for a pulse, and was relieved when he
found one. He had never needed to kill yet, and that was the way he wanted
to keep it.

Walking back to the young lady, who was sitting there crying, he helped
her back up again.
He could feel her trembling under him, and felt a strong urge to kiss her,
yet deep down the magic of the amulet he wore controlled the urges. With a
sudden glow of green, he felt his amulets energy flow over the young
maiden, which started to calm her down, and remove the feelings Darkrider
was having towards her.

"Calm sweet maiden, you are safe now." Darkrider said as he raped her into
his cape.

As she calmed down he felt her strength start to return, and she started
to stand more firmly against him. He wasn't going to ask her questions as
yet, she needed warmth, and safety. With a thought he felt the power of
his amulet build up, and with a sudden flash he was no longer in the ally,
but inside his large mansion.

END OF PART FOUR

-- 
=copywrite M.Powell (1996)=
* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to "M.Powell" <powellm@ihug.co.nz> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
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From abilling@tfs.net Wed Nov 20 12:30:55 1996
Date: Fri, 15 Nov 1996 17:39:46 -0600
From: Allen Billings <abilling@tfs.net>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: TBP:NK:Darkest Night part7

          Night Knights: The Darkest Night, part 7

     Ailynne swore. The target was getting even more nervous, not 
calming; as a result, so was she. A sudden pain struck her in the 
midsection. Clenching her jaw, she backed away from the spy holes 
and sat on the floor. Sitting cross legged, she began to control 
her breathing.
     "Damn it, Bailey - hurry up!"

     `Al' glanced at his companion, though not directly in the 
eyes. Trying to appear drunk, he teetered a little on his stool.
     "So..." It came out sounding more like `sho'. "I'sh a 
blassed con... conspiracy, ain' it?" From the corner of his eye, 
he saw Coolie's back shaking with laughter. He nearly grinned 
himself at the thought of how they'd both pulled this act on a 
trio of cheerleaders in college; they'd done it to settle a rush 
week bet on whether the girls were wearing bras or not. It had 
only been half acting, considering the free flowing beer at the 
party. "Wimmin, huh." The guy grinned, relaxing a little.
     "Hey - I hear you. First they run hot, then cold, then they 
try to take you for all you own." Bailey shook his head.
     "Divorce?" The other just shook his head. 

     Ailynne rose as Coolie came back into the room; he glanced 
at her in concern.
     "Are you all right?" She nodded.
     "Just a little tense - how are things going out there." 
Coolie laughed.
     "Don't ever let him convince you that he's drunk unless 
you've seen him drain a six pack." Ailynne sighed.
     "It took me months to get him to cut back." Coolie gave her 
a serious look.
     "He told you about beer and pop tarts for breakfast, didn't 
he?" She stared at him in disbelief.
     "How many years has he been doing that?" The bartender 
grinned.
     "He and I - and most of the frat - used to survive on meals 
like that. The only times that we didn't were finals. Between 
cramming for them and partying because it was the end of the 
semester, we didn't have time to warm the pop tarts, so we just 
ordered pizza." Ailynne groaned.
     "So that's where he got his bad eating habits." 
     "Hey - he was third in his class. Give him a break." She 
stared at him incredulously.
     "How'd he manage that? The way he talks about college, he 
barely had time to study between parties and practical jokes." 
Coolie shook his head.
     "Oh, he studied... just not at traditional hours. He'd get 
up at two or three in the morning, specifically to hit the books. 
It used to drive me crazy." She grinned.
     Both of them jumped as Bailey burst into the room, his eyes 
flashing. She rose hurriedly, glancing quickly towards the wall; 
Bailey spoke before she could question him.
     "He got spooked by a siren - let's go." She shot out of the 
room, with him at her heels. She caught sight of their quarry; 
being the fastest, she glanced at Bailey.
     "Call it in - I'll go after him." He nodded, slowing as she 
went on; he pulled the police band portable radio out of the 
knapsack that he'd brought.
     "Angus - we've found him. Get your butt down here." He 
relayed the location and started after his partner.

     Ailynne began to wish she'd transformed; her powerful wings 
could have caught up with her quarry much faster than her feet. 
She ground her teeth as she tried for another burst of speed.

     Angus stared at Bailey.
     "She what?!"
     "She took off after him while I called you." He fixed the 
lieutenant with a patient gaze. "By now, you should have figured 
out that she wants this guy, Angus. She's not about to let him 
out of her sight - you better just hope that you can get to him 
first." Angus stared at him.
     "You don't honestly think that she'd confront him, do you?" 
Bailey just gave him another patient look. "God, Bailey - he 
might be armed, and he's certainly dangerous." The P.I. rose 
slowly.
     "'Lynne can take care of herself. If it comes to a fight, be 
worried about getting him away from her in one piece." He gave 
Angus a more serious look. "Exactly how armed are we talking?"
     "We don't know. From the stuff that we found in his room, it 
could be anything, with any kind of ammo." Bailey was half way to 
the car.

     She nearly caught up to him; he dodged at the last minute 
towards a diapidated building. She followed him in.
     "Stop!" He dodged through a doorway; she followed without 
hesitation. He spun on her, finding himself in an otherwise 
exitless room.
     "Back off." He reached into his jacket. "I'll kill you." She 
shook her head.
     "You've already got enough blood on your hands, you 
bastard." She could feel herself losing control; she couldn't 
concentrate on regaining it and watch her opponent as well. As he 
started towards her, she quit trying.
     "What do you want?" She glared at him, moving slightly to 
keep the distance between them at a constant length, yet stay in 
front of his only way out.
     "You know exactly what this is about, you son of a bitch - 
you ought to be castrated for what you've done, and then allowed 
to bleed to death, like your victim nearly did." He began 
laughing; the sound was half hysterical.
     "You got the wrong guy - I've never gotten anyone bloody, 
much less enough to die." Ailynne bared her teeth in a silent 
snarl.
     "No - you just kidnapped a seventeen year old girl, held her 
captive for over a month, raped her, and nearly starved her to 
death." She advanced a step. "You got her pregnant, asshole - she 
nearly died getting rid of it because it had a chance of turning 
out like you. Besides that, it probably would have killed her to 
carry it much further." He shook his head at her.
     "She's just a SCAB - besides that, the way she looks, and 
coming off of the street like that, no one's going to believe 
that she didn't ask for it." Ailynne shook her head.
     "You are one sick son of a bitch - but your money ain't 
worth shit this time. Seems the police have found enough evidence 
to put you and your sick friends away for the rest of the 
century, if not longer." She grinned. "Oh, by the way - 
kidnapping's a federal charge. This time, your victim has help 
that's a lot better than your pet lawyer." He leapt towards her.
     "That's if they catch me." She dodged, though she still 
blocked his exit.
     "We already have."
     "You'd go against good, decent people for that?" Ailynne 
grinned humorlessly.
     "I'd stand with good, decent people against your kind." She 
let her wings spread. "Besides, by your own bigoted standards, 
I'm not your type." He began laughing maniacally.
     "Even better." He pulled something out of his jacket; seeing 
the glint of metal, she threw herself to the floor, expecting a 
gun. Instead, she heard a loud thunk. Seeing him making a run for 
the now uncovered door, she rose. Grabbing him, she wheeled 
around.
     "No way are you skipping the country, asshole." He struck at 
her; she lost her grip on one of his arms.
     "Then this building will come down on both of us." He 
pointed towards the location of the thunk. "That'll go off any 
second now." Glancing where he'd gestured, she paled. He'd thrown 
a pipe bomb. She glared at him.
     "Okay, genius - how do you diffuse it? You ain't going 
anywhere." He struggled more violently, knocking her to the 
ground, though she kept ahold of him.
     "You can't." He began to fight desperately; a couple of 
heavy kicks to her ribs had her gasping in pain. He twisted free, 
running for the door. She scrambled to her feet.

     Bailey stared out the window as the cruiser pulled up; he'd 
ridden with Angus. He'd caught just a glimpse of her entering the 
building after her prey as they turned the corner onto this new 
street; his hands tightened into fists as he got out of the 
cruiser. He caught only a glance of quick movement and heard 
Ailynne cursing loudly; seeing their quarry come out of the 
building, he ran, tackling him to the ground. It became an 
unnecessary gesture as a loud explosion blew out what was left of 
the windows.
     The blast knocked over the mostly dead oak that had been 
struggling to survive just outside; Bailey felt as if a hurricane 
was battering him. Even so, he was on his feet before any of the 
police had come any closer. He started running towards the 
building; Angus made a running tackle that brought both of them 
rolling to the pavement. The lieutenant held him down, pinning 
his arms to his sides.
     "Stay down." Bailey was struggling mightily.
     "She's still in there, Angus!" The other man shook his head 
emphatically.
     "Let the professionals handle it." He glanced around, trying 
to find an unoccupied fellow officer. "Tom!" The other man 
finished pushing the bomber into the back of the squad car, then 
came towards them.
     "What do you need?" Angus grunted as Bailey elbowed him.
     "A little back up would be nice..." He wrestled the 
detective back to the ground. "but first, tell the rescue squad 
that there's a victim in there, a woman, possibly near the blast 
sight..." Bailey caught him square on the jaw with a lucky punch, 
scrambling free as the lieutenant's head snapped back; Tom 
grabbed him by the collar, fighting to get his arm behind his 
back. Finally, he brought him to his knees.
     "Maybe we ought to put this one in the back of a squad car, 
too." Angus massaged his jaw.
     "He'd just find a way to get out, even if it meant chewing 
through the upholstery. Just keep him from going any closer." He 
went towards the arriving firefighters himself; all of the fight 
drained out of Bailey as they grabbed a stretcher and went 
towards the now burning building. A few minutes later, Angus 
returned, a grim smile on his face.
     "Our boy's in real trouble, now - there were homeless using 
the place as a flop house. Now he's got attempted murder to face, 
too." Bailey just stared at him blankly. "Hey - they're going 
through the rubble as best they can. They'll find her." A shout 
from the building seemed almost timed to his words. 
     Bailey rose agitatedly, though Tom kept a tight grip on him; 
Angus motioned for him to loose the detective as two of the 
firefighters carried someone out on the stretcher, following him 
as he followed them to an ambulance. Seeing Ailynne lying on the 
stretcher, he helped the other man climb in next to her.

     Lieutenant Angus paced the floor; he hated waiting. He hated
hospitals even more. Especially, he hated waiting to hear news of 
life and death. Suddenly feeling guilty for letting his dislike 
shadow out everything else, he turned to Bailey, who hadn't moved 
since an emergency room nurse had maneuvered him into a chair. 
Angus wasn't even certain that he was still breathing. He sat 
next to the other man.
     "Alain, she'll be fine. They already know that nothing vital 
was hit..." Bailey still didn't move. "She was going away from 
the bomb when it went off." The detective turned to him slowly. 
     "Angus, I saw her. I heard how they were talking in the 
ambulance, and since she got here. Her spine could be damaged. 
She could end up paraplegic, or worse. She might not survive 
surgery." He looked away, in the direction that she'd been moved 
in. "Hell - she might still bleed to death because they're afraid 
to give her normal blood, or even blood from other SCABs, which 
we both know from experience wouldn't be a good idea. She could 
be dead for all I know right now, or she could be wishing that 
she were." He glared at the lieutenant. "Now leave me alone." 
Angus remained silent.
     Three hours later, a doctor still wearing surgical scrubs 
came towards them; Bailey rose to his feet.

Another Furry on the Loose!

Come join us and reach for the stars at
http://www.millennial.org
The World's First Millennial Project's Home Page


* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to Allen Billings <abilling@tfs.net> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
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From powellm@ihug.co.nz Wed Nov 20 12:30:57 1996
Date: Sat, 16 Nov 1996 13:33:00 +1300
From: "M.Powell" <powellm@ihug.co.nz>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: Martin Cripps <martyc56@jerseycape.com>, tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: Story ------  SRU : FIGHT FOR THE WORLD (part5/?)

    [The following text is in the "ISO-8859-1" character set]
    [Your display is set for the "US-ASCII" character set]
    [Some characters may be displayed incorrectly]

PART FIVE

As he appeared in his mansion's main hall, his best friend and maid rushed
over to him taking the young maiden from his arms.

"Who have we here then." Alice O'Connely  said as she took the young girl
into her own arms, holding her towards so to keep her warm.

"I have yet to ask her, Alice. If you would be so kind as to escort her
into one of the spare bedrooms, and please find her some warm clothes. I'm
going to be in the crime office, figuring out the information the amulet
received off her." Darkrider said as he headed off towards his office.

"Johnny, You bleeding!" The old maid shouted out behind him, her voice
full with worry, and concern.

In reply Darkrider grunted, waved, and walked out of the hall down another
sub hall way to his personal office.

The office area was one of his most personal of areas, it had been
designed with the greatest of oak furniture he could have found, most of
it made personally for him. One of the largest Oak tables he could have
made, oak book shelving lined the walls; all full with books covering
science throw to middle evil magic. There stood two sets of full plate
metal armor in the back corners of the room, which both held grand sword
each. Walking over to one of the armor displays, he pushed a little hidden
switch, that only he knew was hidden within the head of the armor display.
Behind him one of the bookcases moved slightly, exposing a dark passage
that led towards his underground crime domain.

Marching into the passage he heard the secret opening seal up behind him,
leaving him to walk in darkness towards his base of operations. He felt
more at peace in darkness, the place where he had been left as a child,
after both his parents had died in the caves. It had been that way since
he had found the amulet in them caves, it was the source of his greatest
darkness, it made him a ease with the dark. The amulet also caused his
solitude, it created him as this hero,  a figure that charged in were
angels feared to tread. Again tonight, he had been drawn towards that
gang, to rescue that woman from them, but yet that woman had seemed
delighted to be raped by that man. Then there was the way that the amulet
seemed to umbrella the girl with its own energy, as if it had found
someone that it knew, that he had to protect. This worried Darkrider more
then anything else, the amulet had never done that before, and that made
this situation very particular.

Walking into is crime office, he looked over the grandest feature of his
mansion. It always made him smile when he walked into the heart of his
crime fighter life. The one place he knew he could do as he pleased, and
never have to be interrupted by anyone, not even his maid. Oh she knew it
was down here, but never once had she come to see him when he was here,
she seemed to know that this was his area, a place where only he could
come.

He looked over the walls full of the most high tech computers that money
could buy, noting as he walked by all of them they were still working, and
that nothing major had happened while he had been away. Glancing at his
police monitor, he noted the small crimes but nothing major to report,
yet, he would check it better after he had removed his armor and healed
himself.

Walking over to one of the back doors, he opened it, to reveal a large
area where many black body suits seemed to hang in the air, attached to
nothing. Walking over to a empty space, Darkrider started to invoke
another of the amulets special powers, and he felt the suit around his
body start to phase out slightly. Edging forward he felt his suit pass
though his body, remaining where he had been standing, and his body passed
right though it, revealing mostly naked body on the other side.

Releasing the power once again, would be to much of a drain on his now
tired and pained body, so instead of creating clothes around his body, he
walked out of the armor room, and entered another room where there was
nothing but a large bed. Laying down, he felt a wash of energy pass though
him, filling every part of his body with raw amulet power. Then came the
quick pain, which quickly blacked him out to the rest of the world.

----

"So lass. What be your name?" Alice asked as she slowly brush back the now
dry blond hair of the young woman. The bath had done wonders for the young
girl, seeming to relax her, yet for some reason she still seemed very
quiet, very confused.

The woman looked round the large bedroom, and seemed to still be in a
great daze over her surroundings. She had stopped shivering from both cold
and fright, but now she seemed very confused as if something major was on
her mind.

"You don't talk much to you lass." Alice smiled as she brushed away the
long blond hair from the woman's eyes. "But youngen, I'll need to call you
something, so do you have a name?"

The young girl looked up to Alice, and frowned, a look that would more
suit an old man, than a young beautiful creature like this.

"I don't know. I can't remember." She answered Alice, then started again
looking around the bedroom, still looking very lost.

"Well then lass, you need a name." Thinking for a second she then came up
with a nice name, "So how about Dawn?" Alice asked her, hoping to get at
least a little response.

"That would do, I have many names madam, so that would do ok^Å." A strange
reply came from the young girl, that took Alice by surprise.

"Pardon young lady?!" Alice asked moving in front of the girl, looking her
in the face. "What did you say?!"

The young girl looked at the older woman and shock her head, "I don't
know, I didn't say anything." She cried as tears started to fill her eyes.
"I don't know anything anymore."

Alice reached forward and took the young woman into her arms holding her
close to her, feeling the pain that must be running though this sweet
innocent lass.

"Don't worry Dawn. Your safe with Darkrider, and me." Alice comforted,
"You have nothing to fear now."

Dawn calmed a little, then pulled away from Alice, a smile across her
face. "Thanks Alice, you and Darkrider are so very kind. I'm glad I was
saved by such a lovely person."

Alice smiled at that, and had quick thoughts about getting Johnny and Dawn
together, then quickly dismissed them knowing full well that Darkrider
didn't have relationships, Johnny didn't seem to think he needed one, not
after the death of his wife.

"It's ok Sweety, you'll be safe now." Alice smiled as she helped Dawn up
out of the chair, taking her over to the wardroom. "Ok, In here is a lot
of clothes, you get what you wear what you want and I'll be back shortly
to take you downstairs for something to eat"

Dawn looked in the wardroom and frown again, Alice made a note to learn
were Dawn had picked that up from, it was so unbecoming of a lady.

"Don't worry dear, they should fit you, they once belonged to a woman who
was very close to your size. So you shouldn't have any problem." Alice
smiled again and kissed Dawn on the forehead, "I'll be back in a few
minutes."

As Alice walked out Dawn stared at the clothes again, and frown once more.


"Oh wonderful." She smiled as she walked forward into the wardroom and
started trying on dress after dress.

END OF PART FIVE


-- 
=copywrite M.Powell (1996)=
* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to "M.Powell" <powellm@ihug.co.nz> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
------ The discussion list for the Transformation Story Archive ---------
WWW-List-Archive at:   http://www.t0.or.at/cgi-bin/thomash-lwgate/tsa-talk
for help write to:                               tsa-talk-request@t0.or.at
to get human help:                                       thomash@t0.or.at
From rbenson@pacificnet.net Wed Nov 20 12:31:07 1996
Date: Fri, 15 Nov 1996 17:33:48 -0800
From: rbenson@pacificnet.net
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: Story:  SRU- Three Wishes

Three Wishes

        Michael looked out the bay window at the thickening clouds.  "Do
you really think it's gonna snow tonight, Mom?"  He walked into the kitchen
where his mother was preparing both dinner and the favors for her son's
birthday party that evening.
        "Yep.  Weatherman says it's gonna be the earliest snowfall in
years.  Pity it's coming on Halloween, let's hope it holds off until after
both the trick-or-treaters and your friends can get home."
        Halloween.  For most kids, it was a day to wander the streets
dressed as cowboys or vampires or even these days Power Rangers (Michael's
mom was oh-so-glad that her son preferred the Disney stuff, especially that
Aladdin show) and get a bunch of candy.  For Michael, it was a double
holiday, which meant having the biggest party in the neighborhood every
year.  This year was trebly special, as it was Friday night, and the kids
could stay later than last year.
        "Anything I can do to help, Mom?"  Michael looked around the
kitchen, trying to find something to occupy his time.  She looked over at
him and smiled, "You can set the table and feed your dog."  She paused,
then added, "and you can open _one_ present before your father gets home,
okay?"
        Michael beamed.  "Okay!"  He quickly put three place settings out
and went to the kitchen door, walking outside in the brisk air.  Clouds
continued to build, those high wispy ones he liked so much.
        "Sasha!  Sasha, c'mon, girl, supper!" he cried out.  He looked down
and across the street into the woods, scanning for her.  "C'mon, Sasha,
come and get it!"  An explosion of brush and a streak of tan fur zipped
across the street and up the driveway, barely hugging the curving walkway
before nearly toppling the boy as it entered the house.  A wet nose
snuffled under Michael's hand as the shepherd looked expectantly at her
food dish, then back to her owner.
        "Michael, how many times have I told you to fix her dinner first
before calling her, you know how excited she gets."  His mom opened the
oven and checked the turkey.  "Try not to spill anything, I just cleaned up
while you were at school."
        "Yeah Mom, I won't."  Michael opened up the pantry and took out
Sasha's bowl and dry food.  She started leaping around in expectation.
"Easy girl, you're not a puppy anymore, and today's your birthday, too!"
Michael tried to calm her down by talking to her.  It seemed to help a
little bit.  He had wanted a dog so badly when he was ten, but his parents
decided to wait until his next birthday to get him Sasha.  This was only
after he proved to them that he was responsible enough to take care of an
animal.
        Three years later, he hadn't let them down.  He didn't know when
Sasha's real birthday was, so he celebrated her birthday on his own.  Some
of his friends got the dog presents too, his mom thought that was a nice
gesture.
        The dry food spilled into the bowl noisily, making Sasha jump more,
trying to get to her meal.  "No!" Michael said, opening the fridge to get
the gravy to pour over the kibbles.  Sasha wasn't having it, she jumped up
at Michael, hitting him just as he turned with the ladle full of her
favorite treat.
        Michael was knocked back into the counter, causing the gravy to
fall from his hand.  The ceramic pourer arced in perfect slow motion,
ending its short descent by smashing into a half dozen pieces on the floor,
a shower of gravy raining down around it.
        "Sasha!  No!  Stop!  Oh, Mom!"  She turned around, and shook her
head, then smiled.  "Pick up the pieces before she tries to eat them, Mike.
I think Sasha will clean up the mess for you."  Mike looked a bit
downtrodden as he picked up the broken pot.  "Sasha...  Oh well, here's
your food anyhow."  He set the dish down next to the dwindling puddle of
gravy, momentarily giving the dog too many choices.  She spent the next
three minutes alternating between the floor and the food bowl before
finishing up all that was before her.
        She barked in appreciation, and curled up next to the fireplace to
take a nap.  Michael's mom checked the food once more, and satisfied that
the gravy was cleaned up, walked back to the bedroom.  She brought back a
small package wrapped with the characters from Michael's favorite show.
"Here, Mike, this should brighten your spirits, it's from your Uncle Alex
down in the city."
        It did.  Michael looked at the wrapping, forgetting the mishap.
"Wow!  Aladdin paper!  Can I keep it?"  He mom didn't see why not.  He
carefully unwrapped the gift, looking at the nondescript box enclosed.  "Go
on, open it."  His mom smiled as her son lifted the lid and removed the
present inside.
        "Oh wow!  Cool!  A genie lamp!  This is great!  Just like Aladdin!"
He paused for a second, his smile managing to widen even more.  "Even
better, we can use it for Sasha's gravy!  And it's metal, so she won't
break it this time!  Sasha!  Come look!"  The dog lifted her head and
glanced at what the boy was waving around, sniffed once, then set her head
back down to drift back into sleep.
        "Yes, you can use it for her gravy, but clean it up first, okay?"
Michael looked over the lamp and lifted the lid.  "It's really dirty
inside, Mom, I'm gonna put it in the dishwasher."  She nodded as a car
pulled up in the driveway.  "Dad's home, go clean up, dinner's ready."
        The meal went smoothly enough, Mike's parents discussing the chance
that they might have the biggest sleep-over of the year if the storm moved
in early.  The dishes went into the dishwasher, which was then turned on,
humming silently in the background as the final preparations were being
made for the party.
        Soon enough, the doorbell rang, and the first few kids began to
show up for the party.  A half hour later, a half dozen children were
running around, quickly filling the house.  Michael's mom brought in a tray
of sodas when Sasha bumped up against her legs.  "Mike?  Would you let the
dog out, I think she needs to go."  Just the, the front doorbell rang.
"Hon, will you get that, it's more trick-or-treaters."  She weaved her way
around the kids and handed them each a Coke.  He husband came back into the
room.  "Who was it?" she asked her husband as Michael returned from letting
the dog out.  He took his pop.  "It was the Gallow kids, dressed up like
gangsters.  Mike, why didn't you invite them?"
        "Dad, they're the school bullies, they hate me.  They're just
trouble."  His dad nodded and went back to his post to await another
doorbell ring, kind of glad that this was his year to deal with the
costumed set.  Soon the party was in full force, and it was time for the
presents.
        Michael wasn't let down again this year.  Dozens of toys came his
way, and then the final two presents came out, both from his parents.  The
kids ooh'd and ahh'd at the size of the larger one, with Michael just
staring at it.  The smaller package was ripped open in short time.  "Oh,
cool- the Aladdin movie!  Thanks, Mom, thanks, Dad!"  It was set aside
briefly in favor of the larger present.
        Michael unwrapped it just as enthusiastically, and gasped.  "A
doghouse!  Oh cool, Sasha will love this, wow!"  He looked around for his
pet.  "She's still outside.  Ah wow, she's gonna love this.  Thanks!!"  He
looked over the new accommodations for his dog, and beamed.  Just then, the
front doorbell rang again.
        "That's funny, it's only 9:00... who could that be?"  Michael's dad
opened the front door to see Bobby's mother standing shivering on the
porch.  "I'm sorry, Mr. Sanders, but the storm's here, and I wanted to get
my son before the roads got too bad."
        "Please, come in.  Bobby!  Your mom's here!"  A groan came up from
the peanut gallery.  He glanced outside at the first flakes of winter
falling outside.  "They say how much we're supposed to get?"
        Bobby gathered up his things and thanks Michael for inviting him.
"About 6 inches, maybe more....  Really unusual for this time of year, I'm
afraid."  Michael's dad nodded as Bobby trudged out into the night with his
mom.
        It didn't take long for the party to clear out at that point.
Seemed the local TV stations had put out weather advisories, bringing all
the parents calling for their kids early.  By 9:45 the last party-goer had
been ushered out the door, leaving an exhausted Michael and two more
exhausted parents surveying the damage.
        "Bedtime, Mike!  Go get Sasha, she's probably dying of cold out
there."  Mike went to the door and called for his dog.  "Sasha, c'mon,
girl!  Sasha!"  She didn't come to his call.  "C'mon, Sasha, it's getting
cold!  Mom, she's not coming."
        "That's okay, Mike, she's built for this kind of weather, she's
probably taken shelter from the storm.  She can take care of herself,
y'know.  She'll be back in the morning."  Mike nodded, and looked around.
"Anything I can do to help out?"
        "You can unload the dishwasher, kid."  Mike nodded, and popped into
the kitchen, putting the dishes away.  "Hey, Mom?  Can I put the turkey
gravy in the fridge?"
        "Sure, just don't make a mess, okay?"  Mike and his mom both burst
out into laughter, leaving his Dad out of the joke.  Soon enough,
everything was put away, and Mike's mom was tucking her son in.
        "Thanks for everything, Mom, it was great."  She kissed him
goodnight and turned off the light.  "Mom?"  "Yes, dear?"  "You sure
Sasha's gonna be okay in the storm?"  "Of course, Mike.  Dogs have been
around a lot longer than us, they take care of themselves.  See you in the
morning."
        Mike was asleep seconds after the light went out as the snow
continued to pile up outside.
        Bright sunshine woke Michael early, and he looked outside at the
brilliant white landscape that greeted him.  "Oh man!  We got a ton of
snow!"  He hopped out of bed and put on some clothes.  His parents were
drinking morning coffee when he looked around.  "Where's Sasha?" he asked.
        "We just got up ourselves, Mike.  Why don't you go get her?"
        Michael opened the door and called for his dog.  "Sasha, c'mere!
C'mon pup!"  He looked out at the woods, and thought he saw some movement,
and smiled.  "C'mon, girl!  Get inside, you have to see what we got for
you!"  The dog trudged out of the snow slowly...  too slowly.  Mike looked
a bit concerned as the shepherd collapsed into a snowdrift, then got back
up.  Concern turned to fear and worry as he saw a bright crimson stain left
behind where the dog had fallen.
        "MOM!!!!  DAD!!!  Sasha's hurt!"  Mike ran to the closet to get his
boots and coat, and was out the door before his parents could see what was
the matter.  Michael was across the street, tramping through a foot of snow
to get to his dog, who was barely able to make across the street to their
front yard.  "Sasha!  No.  No!"  Michael could see a huge gash mark across
her shoulder, and worse yet, a pair of large cuts on her rear flank.  The
cuts were far too regular to have been made by anything but a knife.  Her
fur was matted down by a mass of drying blood and dirt.
        Sasha had lost a lot of blood, and was very weak, but tried her
best to lick Michael's face as he dropped to his knees in front of her.
Michael's father appeared next to him, his face ashen.  His son turned to
look at him, "Do something, Dad, she's hurt."  Michael's father kneeled
next to his son and rubbed his shoulder, nodding.  "Stay here with her, try
to keep her calm, okay?"  He turned, and ran back to the house, looking
with worry to his wife.
        "What happened?" she asked, incredulously.  "I don't know," he
said.  "All I know is that dog needs a vet, and fast."  He flipped open the
phone book and called, fingers stabbing at the phone.  It rang...  and
rang...
        "Thank you for calling the Green Valley Veterinary Clinic.  Due to
the snow emergency, our offices are closed.  If you need immediate medical
attention for your pet, please call the County Animal Emergency Clinic
at...."
        He wrote down the number quickly, and called County.  "Hello, this
is County Animal Emer-"  The voice at the other end of the line was cut
off.
        "Hello, this is Albert Sanders, I've got a wounded dog here, she
needs help.  What?"  He explained Sasha's situation to the person on the
other end of the line, then nodded, jotting down some information, and
stopped.
        "You're located where?  That's over an hour from here on a good
day, and that road's closed 'cause of the snow!  Can't you do anything?"
He paused for a bit, then looked over at his wife, then back down at the
phone.  "Thank you.  Good-bye.  Yes, I'm sorry, too."
        Mr. Sanders sighed deeply, then looked at his wife.  He started to
say something, then stopped, and sat down.  Michael appeared at the door.
"C'mon, Dad, we've got to get her to the vet.  C'mon, let's go!  She's
really bleeding out there."
        "Michael.  The vet is closed because of the snow.  We can't get
Sasha to the hospital."  Michael started yelling, "No!  No!  Dad, no!"
Michael's mom gave her son a hug.  "The county vet said that there's
nothing we can do, except to make her comfortable until..."  He sighed
deeply.
        "C'mon, Mike."  His mom walked over to the fridge, and took out the
gravy.  "Take this out to her, at least she'll have something she likes.
I'm sorry.  I should've never told you to put her out."  She looked like
she was about to cry.  Michael took the treat out to his dog as his parents
hugged.
        Sasha's tail thumped weakly as she lay in a pile of crimson snow,
trying to get up to go to Michael.  "No, Sasha, stay.  I've got something
for you, silly."  He tried to smile, but failed, tears welling up in his
eyes.  He poured a bit of the gravy over Sasha's lips, spilling some onto
the snow, the lamp, and himself.  He set the lamp down next to his pet as
he wiped the excess gravy off on his pants.  He started to cry, shuddering
to himself.  Sasha licked the gravy off her muzzle, and then off the side
of the lamp weakly, her tail thumping against the wet snow.
        Michael wasn't ready for what happened next.  A yellow-green cloud
of smoke billowed forth, causing the boy to momentarily forget about Sasha
as he fell back, trying to avoid the cloud.  The dog looked up and blinked
at the forming Genie before her.
        "Oh, this is rich.  Absolutely rich.  Wait until the Academy hears
about this one.  Kings, yes.  Thieves, yes, but a dog?  Oh, what else could
go wrong today.  It was bad enough that I'm covered in this goo, but a
dog?"  He sighed, and looked at Sasha, then noticed how hurt she was.  He
looked back at Michael.  "Yours?  Sorry, kid.  You know the rules, right?"
        Michael blinked, then looked back at the house, then up and down
the street.  There wasn't anyone else around, this had to be for real.
"Rules?  Uh, you mean the three wishes thing?"
        "Yes," the Genie said sarcastically, "'the three wishes thing,' but
more importantly, _who_ gets the three wishes."
        "The one who rubs the lamp, everyone knows that."  He looked at the
Genie, then back to Sasha, then back to the Genie.  "You mean?"
        "Yes.  The dog gets the wishes.  Oh man.  I should've paid more
attention in Animal Communication in school.  Okay.  I hope I get this
right. There'll be lawsuits, lawyers...."  He turned to Michael.  "You know
the only thing more powerful than a Genie is a Genie with a law degree?
Okay.  What's her name?"
        "It's Sasha."  Mike blinked back a tear as Sasha struggled to stand
up.  "No, girl, stay down."
        The Genie waved a hand.  "It's okay.  She's not going to die, at
least not for a bit."  The boy blanched.  "Kid, look at her.  Oh...  right,
sensitivity training.  Okay.  She's really badly hurt, and things don't
look good.  All right.  Sasha?  Sasha.  You get three wishes, do you know
what wishes are?  Of course you don't.  You're a dog.  Okay."
        The Genie shook his head a bit, and concentrated, then reformed
himself, looking like a yellow-green retriever.  He began to whine and
posture a bit to Sasha, who struggled a bit, but seemed to respond.
Michael watched, trying to figure out why he could understand what Sasha
was trying to say.  The Genie-dog looked over his shoulder at Michael.
"She said, 'I wish he could have seen what happened.'"  The Genie-doglooked
back to Sasha, and said one word.  "Done!"
        The world spun a bit, and things slowly got dark, and warmer.  The
snow melted away leaving Michael sitting... no, floating above his front
yard.  It took him a second to figure out where he was, until he heard a
trio of kids coming towards him across the front yard.  He tried to say
something, but they didn't hear him.  The kids continued to walk towards
where Michael was, and then passed right through him!
        It clicked suddenly.  The Gallow kids, from the night before,
coming to trick or treat.  Michael heard the side door open, and then heard
himself let Sasha out.  He managed float to the side of the house in time
to see her lick his hand at the door, then turn to go into the backyard,
sniffing around.  It was the night before.  His own dad opened the door.
"Trick-or-Treat!" they said, and his dad dropped some candy into each of
their bags, saying 'Good night,' before closing the door after them.
        The Gallow kids left the porch, "Man, I can't believe Michael."
Mike hated it when the kids called him that, everyone called him Mike.  "He
thinks he's so much better than us, and he's got all his friends here."
Sasha padded down the driveway, warily looking over at the trio of kids on
the front steps.  "Hey, I got an idea."  They walked over to Sasha, who
danced gracefully away from them.  "C'mon dog.  C'mon, I got a treat for
you.  C'mere."
        Michael watched as Sasha continued to trot down the driveway, a bit
slower now, still looking at the kids.  They followed her down the street
and into the woods, the oldest brother opening his candy bag.  "C'mon, dog,
I got something for ya."  He laughed a bit, reaching into his pocket to
take out his jackknife.  "I got something really nice."
        Sasha stopped, and sniffed the air, scenting the candy suddenly.
She took a preliminary step towards the woods where the kids were, then
walked a bit faster to them, tongue lolling out of her mouth.  She let down
her guard as the Gallow kids surrounded her, smacking her lips to take the
candy from the eldest boy.  It took just that long for him to hook the
knife across her shoulder, leaving a deep bleeding cut.  Another two slices
across her flank left deep gouges in her leg.  She yelped, the candy
dropping from her muzzle as her own body gave out from under her, and she
collapsed.  Michael screamed at the top of his lungs as the Gallow boys ran
laughing up the street.
        It got cold suddenly, and bright.  Michael sat yelling and throwing
punches in the air before realizing that the scene was over.  He started
screaming at the Genie.  "I hate them!  I hate them!"  Over and over he
yelled it, sobbing.  "They killed her!"  The Genie stopped him.  "No, they
only hurt her badly.  She's still alive."
        Michael stopped, and looked at Sasha, who looked back at him, and
tried to stretch out a bit.  The Genie looked back at Sasha, and did more
of the dog-speak act.  Sasha replied, the Genie nodded.  The discussion
continued for a bit, and then the Genie looked back at Michael, smiling.
"What did she say?" asked the boy.  "She says she wished you could've
stopped them.  Done!"
        The world spun again, but this time familiarly.  Michael was back
floating in his front yard.  The Gallow Boys were there, coming towards
him.  He started yelling at them this time, trying to get their attention,
but once again, they passed right through him.  "What?  Genie!  How can I
stop them?  I'm _not here_!"  Michael panicked, seeing himself let Sasha
out.  He went over to her and tried to grab her collar, tried to distract
her to keep her from going down the driveway, but the dog didn't
acknowledge his existence.
        "Genie!!  Genie!!  What's going on!"  Michael moved down his
driveway, following his dog as she went to the Gallow boys in the woods.
"How am I supposed to stop this if I'm not here!"  He didn't want to watch
his dog be sliced again, and fled deeper into the trees.  He heard the
eldest boy calling for Sasha, and anger welled up deeply inside of him, a
dark coldness that chilled him to the bone.
        Or not!  Michael suddenly turned around.  It _was_ cold, he was
cold, he was there!  The realization barely took hold when an odd tingling
sensation wrapped around his body, and suddenly it was not quite as cold.
Looking down at himself, he realized that his pink skin was melting softly
into a much darker color, and fur was splitting out of his pores, covering
him.  He hadn't realized he wasn't wearing any clothes before, but then
again, he hadn't exactly really been there, either.  The fur continued to
wash over him as he fell to the forest floor, his hand shrinking, his
fingernails curling outwards, becoming darker than his skin, hooking into a
dog's paw!
        Michael watched the rest of his body slowly work itself into a new
form.  He recognized in the brightening light that he was becoming a
Shepherd like Sasha, then became aware that it wasn't brightening at all-
he could see really well at night.  His bodily inspection continued as a
long flowing brush of a tail slipped from over his rear.  He tentatively
wagged it, and then sniffed the air, marveling at the scents around him.
One scent in particular stood out from the others.  "Sasha!!"
        He didn't know how far he'd wandered into the wood, but began to
sprint up towards the street.  He saw Sasha walking to the boys, almost to
them...  He panicked, he was too late!  He started yelling, "Sasha!  Stop!
Run!  Get away!" but all that came out was a series of short punctuated
barks.  To his amazement, Sasha stopped, and barked in return, startled.
The Gallow kids turned to face him, wide eyed in fear at the large barking
German Shepherd bounding up towards them with teeth flashing.
        "Let's get out of here!"  The eldest kid dropped his knife and
fled, running from the snarling beast.  Michael stopped, then looked.
Candy.  Knife.  Sasha.  Sasha unhurt!  She was okay.  He went over to her
happily, but she moved back from him, sniffing at the air.  She sniffed
again, then looked at him quizzically.  "Mike?"
        Michael stood still, looking over Sasha.  He had understood her,
somehow, and more importantly, she had understood him.  He tried to say,
"Yes, it's me, Sasha," but ended up lowering his head and wagging his tail.
She replied, moving towards him and licking his chin.  The boy's mind
heard, "Thank you, Mike."  The boy smiled in an oddly doggish way, and
barked happily.
        The world started to lighten once again, and Michael blinked at the
amazingly white world before him.  He stepped back, then sat back on his
haunches.  "Wow, it's bright today..."  He pawed at the ground, realizing
he was still a dog.
        "Yes, it's wonderful, it snowed so much last night, Mike.  It's
beautiful."
        Mike blinked.  "Sasha?"  The Shepherd looked at him, and nodded.
"Yes.  It's me, Mike."  The Genie looked down at the pair of animals before
him, and grinned.  Mike looked up at him.  "I'm still a dog, Genie.  What
happened."
        "Three wishes, Mike, or should I say, 'Mick?'"  The Genie fingered
a tag hanging from a collar around Michael's neck, and then promptly
disappeared, leaving no trace of him, or the lamp.  Michael looked around
at the pristine snow as Sasha happily licked at his face and ears.  "Hey,
quiddit, Sasha!  Let's go inside."  He stopped suddenly.  "Inside!  Oh no!
What about Mom and Dad?"
        "Don't worry about it, we'd better get inside."  Sasha padded up
the driveway to the side door, and scratched to be let in.  Michael
hesitantly followed her, trying to stay out of sight.  His mom opened the
slider and looked down at Sasha.
        "There you are, Sasha!  Staying out all night again?  Where's Mick
at?"  She looked towards the wood, and was about to call when she noticed
the other shepherd hiding behind the trash cans.  'There you are, c'mon
boy.  You're letting the heat out."  Michael was having trouble making out
all the words, but did smell food, which motivated him inside to where the
Sanders' were making breakfast on this cold, cold November first.  The
woman scratched his ears pleasantly, and tossed both him and Sasha a bacon
strip as she closed the door behind her.
        "Radio says the storm's got all the roads closed, guess it's just
the two of us today, dear," said the man who was munching on some eggs.
"Glad Alex sent us those two dog houses last week, eh?  Would you look at
all this snow!"  He smiled, and kissed his wife as Michael and Sasha lay
down by the fireplace.

        Later the next week a man sat down at the local mall to his Philly
Cheesesteak sandwich.  An older man stopped next to him, with a rice bowl
from the Chinese place at the food court.  "How did those dog houses work
out for you, Alex?"
        The businessman was still surprised that the old man knew his name,
or remembered him out of all the other customers he must have seen in the
busy week before Halloween.  Why he'd decided to pick up his brother's
anniversary gift at a mall occult store he had no idea, but he was out of
time and needed something.  "They liked them a lot, especially with the
snow they got up there over the weekend.  My brother's happy, too.  I still
think I should've picked up that lamp you showed me, though."
        The old man nodded, and said, "Things have a way of working out in
the end, Alex.  Enjoy your lunch."  He moved on to another seat nearby,
thinking to himself that things don't always work out the way you plan
them.


* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to rbenson@pacificnet.net .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
------ The discussion list for the Transformation Story Archive ---------
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From powellm@ihug.co.nz Wed Nov 20 12:31:11 1996
Date: Sat, 16 Nov 1996 14:55:45 +1300
From: "M.Powell" <powellm@ihug.co.nz>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at, j.filpus@genie.com
Subject: Re: SRU   :   FIGHT FOR THE WORLD (Errors)

    [The following text is in the "ISO-8859-1" character set]
    [Your display is set for the "US-ASCII" character set]
    [Some characters may be displayed incorrectly]

YES, that was a big typo error... Thankyou for pointing out both
problems....	

It looks like there is a problem with the posting, as the email program I
am using seems to be viewing the file ok.... as there is no (a) with a
accent... :(

I'll check into it...

>   >Darkrider said as he _raped_ her into his cape.
> 
> I hope you meant "wrapped".

THIS IS CORRECT  :)

> BTW, your message to your friend, with all four parts of the story so
far,
> got copied to TSA-Talk.

Thanks for pointing this out, as it shouldn't have happened  :(

* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to "M.Powell" <powellm@ihug.co.nz> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
------ The discussion list for the Transformation Story Archive ---------
WWW-List-Archive at:   http://www.t0.or.at/cgi-bin/thomash-lwgate/tsa-talk
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to get human help:                                       thomash@t0.or.at
From abilling@tfs.net Wed Nov 20 12:31:14 1996
Date: Fri, 15 Nov 1996 21:06:43 -0600
From: Allen Billings <abilling@tfs.net>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at

                    Night Knights, part 9

     Bailey stared down in awe; the view afforded by the new 
harness was amazing to him. High as they were, the streets below 
reminded him of the toy car sets that he'd had as a child; the 
people, when he could make them out of the darkness, were so tiny 
that he couldn't tell one from another. He watched the scene 
below him until Ailynne pulled up to land on the roof of an 
apartment building. Wrapping an arm around his waist, she 
unlatched the link between their separate belts, setting him down 
first. As soon as she'd landed as well, he glanced at her.
     "What's wrong?" She shook her head, smiling.
     "Nothing. I just wondered which way we wanted to go."
     "Huh?" She grinned at his confusion.
     "Your place or mine?" Seeing his expression, she laughed. 
"for coffee. I did say that we'd discuss things over coffee." 
     "Oh. Sorry. My mind was elsewhere." He glanced at her. "Can 
you hold your wings like you do during the day?" She glanced at 
him quizzically.
     "Yeah. Why?" He eyed her spandex tights.
     "In the dark, they'll look like a cloak - and they'll hide 
your... ahh..." Turning red, he gestured to her well displayed 
legs. She raised an eyebrow, grinning slyly.
     "Where are you planning on taking me? A bank?" His look of 
utter confusion prompted another burst of laughter.
     "What?"
     "Well, if you aren't worried about running into bankers, why 
do you want me to hide my assets?" Her back to him, she spread 
her wings and allowed the tip of her tail to twist around her 
ankle. 
     "What?! I... ahh..." Allowing him a few more moments of beet 
faced embarrassment, she turned to face him.
     "'S okay. Just pointing out that I don't really care if 
they look, as long as they don't try to touch. Of course, if 
you're that uncomfortable about it..." She folded her wings 
around her shoulders, effectively hiding her lower half in 
shadow. "Now. Where do you want to go, that requires such 
modesty?" Her sarcasm quickly chased away his embarrassment. 
     "It may be a bar, but it ain't full of exotic dancers so 
you'd be overdressed!" She doubled over with laughter.
     "Bailey," She paused to catch her breath. "I'm not exactly 
running around topless!" He glanced at her tank top.
     "Next thing to it." 
     "Shards, Bailey! You sound like my mother - and she's why I 
moved out on my own!" He sighed.
     "As tiny as your clothes are, it obviously wasn't over 
closet space." 
     "You mean that place that you keep your dirty magazines in?"
     "You want coffee or not?" She smiled, holding out her hand.
     "Come on, then." He glanced doubtfully at the harness; she 
giggled. "If you can stand my clothing for a few minutes, we 
don't have to use the harness - in fact, we should probably take 
it off and hide it, so it doesn't raise questions." She 
hesitated. "Bailey, this bar - is it a place where the patrons 
are likely to call the police if they do recognize me?" He 
grinned.
     "Hell - half of the regulars would probably shoot out the 
lights if Donnie would let them. At least on Friday nights." She 
raised an eyebrow.
     "Are you sure that it's safe?" He laughed.
     "No, but ain't that the point? Safe would be sitting in some 
swanky restaurant, drinking cappuccino from fine china with a 
snotty maitre d' staring disapprovingly down his nose at us; 
either that, or going to some all night truck stop trying to be a 
family place - is that what you want?" Her expression was one of 
distaste.
     "Okay. Where's this bar?"

     The Blind Pig was three quarters full; Bailey held the door, 
then her chair for her. She sat gratefully, having landed a bit 
too hard on one ankle in an alley half a block away. The waitress 
was there before she relaxed; Bailey grinned, doing the talking.
     "Evening, Colleen. Just a couple of coffees for now, 
please." Ailynne glanced at her as she left, then back at Bailey, 
a slow grin coming to her face. 
     "Cute. She has nice eyes." He sighed, hiding his eyes in his 
hands.
     "Just because I'm nice to someone I see every so often 
doesn't automatically mean that I'm interested in them." He 
gestured to her. "I'm nice to you, after all." She gave him a 
teasing grin. He sighed, knowing that she'd end up having the 
last word, even if she didn't actually speak all night.
     A shadow crossed the table; looking up, she saw what 
appeared to be a werewolf wearing a long black cape. His smile 
carefully hid his teeth, long practice making it near effortless 
for him; finding his obvious good cheer infectious, she returned 
the friendly expression. His voice held laughter as he spoke.
     "Milady, I must admit to some puzzlement; while I am certain 
that I have never seen you grace this humble establishment 
before, I am equally as certain that I have seen you somewhere." 
She shook her head.
     "Not likely - I usually go out of my way not to be 
recognized in public." The wolf morph tilted his head 
inquisitively.
     "Why hide, dear lady?"
     "My appearance tends to worsen - or cause - riots."
     "Ah, fame." He sighed. "So much worse for those of us who 
cannot hide our appearances." His gaze turned quizzical. 
"Perhaps... that's it. You were on television." His grin slowly 
returned. "On the news, to be precise." He lifted her hand to his 
lips, lightly brushing the latter over the former. "Madame, this 
is indeed a delight - might I have the honor of knowing the name 
of the first among us to actively deter violence directed in our 
direction?" She grinned.
     "I'm nobody. Who are you?" He grinned.
     "I am nobody too - but shh, don't tell..." Bailey stared 
from one to the other, not getting the joke.
     "What the hell?" he inadvertently rhymed; Ailynne giggled.
     "It's a poem, Bailey. Emily Dickinson, I think." She looked 
back to the other man. "Interesting pick up line." He made a 
sweeping bow.
     "Hardly, dear lady. If I were trying to lure you from your 
companion, I'd use Shakespeare... or Shelley, perhaps." He 
glanced at Bailey, giving the fuming detective a good natured 
grin. "Not that I'd try - I'm far too much of a gentleman." This 
brought a snort from the pianist, who was passing by on his way 
to a break.
     "Get real, Wanderer." The wolf morph feigned being hurt.
     "Come now, Jack, I may flirt with the ladies, but that 
hardly makes me a Don Juan." Ailynne hid a fit of silent giggles 
behind her hand. Bailey helped Colleen move the two coffees from 
her tray to the table, leaving in its place a bill that left more 
for a tip than the cost of the drinks. By the time that he 
returned his attention to the events centered on his partner, 
Jack had gone on to his break, and the Wanderer had pulled up an 
empty chair. Ailynne was grinning.
     "A theater group made up of SCABs victims?" The wolfen 
nodded emphatically.
     "What better way to prove that we're more civilized than the 
animals that we resemble? Aside from the opposable thumb, culture 
is the most obvious. So..." He smiled at her. "Can I count on 
your support?" One of Ailynne's wings moved slightly.
     "I'm only in this form at night, and I'd prefer that that 
didn't become public knowledge. Besides, I'm not exactly a crowd 
pleaser." She took a sip of her coffee, nodding her thanks to 
Bailey. "On the other hand, during the day, I could probably do 
passably well." He grinned.
     "Isn't someone knowing about the company even though I know 
that I haven't spoken to them a bit of a give away?" She grinned.
     "As long as no one can prove anything in court, everything's 
fine. And I doubt that most of my fellow SCABs victims would 
spill my secret if they knew it, even if they do find out 
somehow." 
     "After what you did during that riot, your secret should be 
safe with them..."
     "On the other hand, the knowledge could be dangerous to 
them, which is why I'm going to keep my confidants to a minimum." 
Wanderer sighed.
     "You won't even tell me, will you?" Grinning, she shook her 
head.
     "Bailey and his partner know how to get in touch with me. 
That's the most that I can tell you."
     "Fair enough." Wanderer rose. "Once we're able to do more 
than spread the word, I'll get word to you." He gave her a slight 
bow, then left. Bailey shook his head.
     "Well, at least he's not singing." Ailynne stared at him.
     "You're jealous!" He turned red.
     "I am not! I just... I... oh hell." He looked away from her, 
taking a long drink of coffee. "Just what we need - our agency 
being associated with an acting troupe." Ailynne grinned.
     "I don't know - I think that you'd look good in tights." He 
nearly choked.
     "Tights?!" He glared at her. "Huh unh. No way, no how! You 
got me into new underwear, and that's bad enough." She laughed.
     "You noticed? It looked like you hadn't even payed attention 
to them in years, Bailey!"
     "That's just it! They'd just gotten comfortable." She was 
laughing too hard to respond.
     The door opened behind her; Bailey's expression got serious 
fast. Once Ailynne was able to calm herself, she gazed at him in  
concern.
     "What is it?" Bailey sighed.
     "Trouble. I think I saw it headed this way."
     "What kind of trouble?"
     "The kind that's had too much booze." Ailynne rose.
     "Sounds like the kind that I can take care of - think anyone 
else noticed?" Bailey shook his head, grinning patiently. "Oh. I 
take it that you've met these guys before." He nodded. "Think I 
can fix the problem?"
     "Probably... Most likely, they're just looking to start a 
fight... Wreck the bar..." She slipped towards the door. A couple 
of loud thumps and a bit of muted cursing later, she returned, 
grinning smugly. Bailey raised an eyebrow. "What happened?" She 
glanced around, noticing that a few lupine ears were turned in 
their direction.
     "Just a few guys who'd had too much to drink. They're 
sleeping it off in the alley." He grinned.
     "Well, thank goodness for that." As soon as their discussion 
had lost the interest of their nearest listeners, he grinned. 
"Now - what really happened?" She grinned, leaning towards him to 
whisper.
     "You ever seen a drunk run into something?" He nodded. 
"Let's just say that I winged them - as in, they saw my tail and 
decided to chase me."
     "And?"
     "And I spread my wings to their full span and let them run 
into them. I imagine that it's something like running into a 
wall. Then I dragged them into the alley." Bailey laughed.
     "Damn. You ain't having any problem with being different, 
are you?" She sighed.
     "I could do without transforming every time the sun passes 
the horizon." She flipped one of her wings slightly. "And of 
course, I'd prefer to be able to hide my original change during 
the day, but..." She paused, taking a sip of her rapidly cooling 
coffee. "I can't. So I'm grateful that at least one of my forms 
is useful for something. The guy that I talked to earlier said as 
much - the creature that I've turned into is considered a 
protector in Scotland. There are more of them... us... there, 
because they're better known. I just got lucky that my great aunt 
told me the right stories when I was a kid." He raised an 
eyebrow.
     "You sound disgustingly like one of those people that 
therapists use as an example of `well adjusted'." She grinned.
     "What am I supposed to do? Start whining that I got a raw 
deal, playing for sympathy and government money? Sorry - my great 
aunt raised me better than that. She made sure that I grew up a 
conservative; she let me listen to her tapes of Rush Limbaugh." 
He groaned.
     "She's the one who got you started on that?" Ailynne grinned 
wickedly.
     "She's the reason that I turned out so well, yes." He shook 
his head.
     "Why's a nice girl like you interested in a filthy thing 
like politics?" She grinned unrepentantly.
     "Because my family's been here since 1639 - in other words, 
we helped to kick out the last government that acted this... 
this... how would you put it?" He grinned, his pointed teeth 
showing.
     "I know what you mean, but those words aren't repeatable in 
polite company." He suddenly did a double take. "Your family's 
been here since when?!"
     "You heard right. The only reason that we haven't ever tried 
to go to Washington and straighten them out is the family 
shortcoming. We're just too damn honest." Bailey cracked up. "I'm 
serious - my great great grandfather Sonny thought about running,
and that's what one of his friends told him. And that was just a 
local election." Bailey was still chuckling.
     "You're right. I've never heard of an honest politician."
     "That's because it's an oxymoron. Besides, we knew that we'd 
never win - we're also far too law abiding. I mean, look at our 
past few presidents... hell, look at our congress. Suspected 
murderers, druggies, sexual deviants... You know, I heard once in 
history class that the founding fathers wanted people in those 
offices to be role models for America's youth." Bailey's grin 
slipped.
     "Look around - they are. Ever since an admitted drug user 
became president, kids have laughed at anyone who says that drugs 
take away their chances in life. And you can't watch television 
without hearing about some sort of juvenile violence. Besides 
that, most of them couldn't even spell patriotism, much less 
define it. The government managed to make that a joke when it 
started kowtowing to the United Nations." He shook his head. 
"Let's change the subject - I didn't come here to get depressed."
     "Neither did I." She took another drink. "But that old 
Scotsman got my mind on it. Even if he wasn't suicidal, he was 
depressed." Bailey glanced up.
     "So what did you say to him? He seemed almost happy when he 
came to tell us that he was okay." She gave him a puzzled look.
     "I don't know - I think I just showed up. He perked up 
almost as soon as I showed up in the window. I nearly fell out of 
the air when he opened the window and let me in." Bailey smiled 
grimly.
     "I know what you mean. Most people would just as soon shoot 
at us as talk to us."
     "Bailey..."
     "Sorry."
     "Even the Scotland group has trouble - come on. Every new 
group has to try to earn respect in this country." He sighed. 
     "Wasn't this country formed to get away from intolerance?"
     "Unfortunately, that was religious intolerance. On the other 
hand, that doesn't seem to have worked either, what with the 
nonsense the religious right has been trying to pull since last 
century..." She stopped. "That's not what we were going to talk 
about either." Bailey's eyebrows shot up.
     "Aha. Have I found your raw nerve?" She bared her teeth.
     "You might say that." He decided to let it rest upon hearing 
her icy tone. 
     "Fine. Back to the story?"
     "The guy was just homesick. He misses the way things were 
back where he came from, where there's one church and no local 
political party. He misses his small town, where he could still 
leave his doors unlocked and trust his neighbors to watch his 
belongings." Bailey's grin was decidedly wicked.
     "He misses seeing girls going out with boys." She glanced at 
him sharply.
     "I wondered just how much Angus shared with you." She 
sighed. "Though I do admit that he's having trouble with his 
daughter's lifestyle." 
     "What did you do about it?"
     "What could I do? I just pointed out that she was happy, and 
that her not wanting to marry a guy doesn't exactly preclude her 
having children." Bailey stared at her.
     "Say what?" Ailynne grinned.
     "What - don't tell me that you never heard of Melissa 
Etheridge."
     "Oh."
     "What did you think I meant? On second thought, never mind." 
She finished her coffee. "Bailey, have you ever thought about 
advertising?"
     "What?!" He set his coffee down. "Why?"
     "It'd help business pick up if more people knew that we 
existed..."
     "I'm in the yellow pages..."
     "So are the guys that advertise."
     "Where?"
     "On the talk shows, on the news specials, on the morning 
radio shows..."
     "Hell, Ailynne, I don't want to come off like some sort of 
cheap rent a cop." She shook her head.
     "You don't have to, though even that would be better than 
coming off as a guy who's barely making it by taking dirty 
pictures of philandering spouses." He sighed.
     "Can we go back to discussing that Limbaugh guy?"
     "No." She grinned wickedly. "Though I'll remember that you 
said that when I come across a tape of him." Bailey groaned. 
"Come on - he's a great speaker. But back to advertising... Right 
now would be the perfect time -  the media's not quite sure which 
way to go on SCABs yet. On one hand, it seems to be the in thing 
to protest against, on the other hand, the victims didn't have a 
choice when it came to catching the disease... This could be good 
for public relations as well as for business..." 
     "I'll think about it." he growled.

Another Furry on the Loose!

Come join us and reach for the stars at
http://www.millennial.org
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From jsleeper@cts.com Wed Nov 20 12:31:17 1996
Date: Fri, 15 Nov 1996 19:25:40 -0800
From: Jon Sleeper <jsleeper@cts.com>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: Story: Titanic: Part 5

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All,

Here is part five.  It's starting to come to a close within the next couple
of parts, but for some reason these things have a way of just going on and
on and on inside this head of mine.  I've often found it *very* hard to
find a way to end things.  Oh well...

------------CUT------------------CUT--------------

Titanic

By Jon Sleeper

Part 5:  Nearer My God to Thee

****************

"My friend Clinch Smith made the proposition that we 
should leave and go towards the stern.  But there arose 
before us from the decks below a mass of humanity 
several lines deep and completely blocking our passage 
to the stern.  There were women in the mass as well as 
men, and they seemed to be steerage passengers who had 
just come up from the decks below.  Even among these 
people was there no evidence of panic.  But oh, the 
agony of it!"

--Col. Archibald Gracie, first class passenger. 

****************
[Apr. 15, 1912  1:30 a.m.]

I eventually found Marcus below decks, dragging around 
an indignant steward by the collar.  The slope of the 
deck was quite noticeable, and I could almost feel the 
bow getting lower, and lower, and lower.  "What are you 
doing?" I asked him.

"Me stuck up crewmate here's a bloomin' idiot!  No 
matter what I've shown him 'e just doesn't understand.  
I just don't know what to do now."

I thought a moment, and grinned.  "Isn't there a 
gangway door about a hundred feet forward?"

"Yes."

I'm no saint, and the idea I had was decidedly evil.  
Well, not evil.  I still had a bottlenose pendant in my 
pocket I'd not had opportunity to give away yet.  It 
almost felt like a waste for what I was about to do, 
but if it worked the idiot might actually do something 
*good* for a change, his new nature would demand it.  
"Good, let's go down there, shall we?"  Marcus grinned, 
apparently understanding.

"Heave-ho?" He said with a wide grin.

"Heave-ho." I replied as we reached the gangway door 
and he opened it.

The steward looked at us fearfully.  "You're not 
serious!  I'll freeze to death in that water!"

"Oh, we *are* serious," I said, my face becoming grim.  
"Too serious for our species, I think.  Which is sort 
of why I guess my Master chooses me for so much of his 
work."  Marcus held him by the shoulders while I put 
the pendant around his neck.  He must of had a weak 
Whaleside, because it flashed blue for a moment, 
attuning itself to him.  "I am going to give you a 
chance to redeem yourself though, like my Master taught 
me.  But in a rather peculiar way.  Marcus?"

At my nod, we both shifted dolphin.  The man screamed, 
and backed against the edge of the opened door.  "What! 
what *are* you?!" he screamed.

"You're abou' to find out firsthand, matey," said 
Marcus.  <"Heave-ho?"> he continued in Delphin, 
grabbing him with webbed hands on the man's left side, 
face in that now-fixed smile.

<"Heave-ho,"> I clicked in return.  In the future I 
would have to make myself some clothes that have a slot 
for my dorsal fin in this form, I've ruined too many 
shirts this way^Å  I grabbed him on the other side.

Marcus and I were both glowing bright blue, and as soon 
as the both of us grabbed him, his pendant activated.  
We held him as his body reshaped like ours:  Dorsal 
fin, webbed hands and feet, dolphin-like head, and 
smooth and hairless bluish skin.  The pitch of his 
scream went higher and higher into the Delphin range of 
hearing.  When he was finished, we picked him up and 
unceremoniously threw him over the side.  <"Have fun!"> 
Marcus yelled in Delphin.  Then he looked at me, <"I 
know I will.">

The man transformed completely as he fell, and as soon 
as he hit the water disappeared in a flash of blue 
light.  <"Lucky sod,"> I said.  <"He's probably in the 
Bahamas by now.  Oh, well.">

<"Bottle, I hate to tell you this, but I think me job 
is finished here.  Orca says I can go now if I please.  
An' I please.">

I extended my hand, and we bumped rostrums for a moment 
in a dolphin "handshake", we also did so in the human 
manner.  <"Then I guess I'll see you soon.  I have a 
strong feeling that you should hang around where you 
appear, Orca will have chosen that spot for entries.">

<"Will do, see ya later, pod-brother.">  Then he dove 
overboard himself, repeating the steward's performance.

I looked aft from the open door, I could just barely 
see the screws rising up out of the water.  The bow was 
surely completely submerged *by now*.  So I resolved to 
go find out where Orca and Emily were.

Staying in part-dolphin form would enable me to locate 
them quicker, so I padded down the corridor, probing 
with my mind this way and that.  This part of the ship 
was very deserted.  I'd invoked my pendant to keep 
others from noticing what I looked like, it worked very 
well.

Looking for Emily's mind for some reason turned out to 
be fruitless.  It almost seemed like she was all around 
me!  Very odd.  Then I slapped the back of my hand 
against my small melon.  Orca's mind should be easy to 
locate.  I changed frequencies, located him, and 
followed the maze of corridors towards where I'd felt 
his mind.

I found them both just before two a.m.  I was starting 
to have difficulty walking on the steepening deck.  
Every now and again I would hear a crash-and-bang as 
things on rollers or loose in cabins started to slide 
forward.  I could just *feel* the fatigue coming off of 
him^Å  "Are you okay?" I said worriedly in a high-
pitched English.

"I'm^Å fine.  Nothing that a night's sleep and a couple 
dozen herring won't cure.  We won't be able to keep 
this up much longer, Bottle.  Emily's on her last legs, 
and frankly so am I.  Marcus has gone to the bottlenose 
entry point, I trust?"

"Yea, he seemed *born* to be a dolphin!  Why he was 
born human I'll never know^Å"  Orca almost seemed to 
blush, an amazing feat on his orca-like face.  "You 
mean?"

"I'm afraid so.  Marcus is another one whose memory I 
loused up.  Damn if I'll *ever* get that quite right.  
But then I'm really the one who 'invented' this whole 
disciple business a few thousand years ago, the moment 
humans first paddled a log out on the ocean.  Nobody's 
perfect."  He took a tired, deep breath.  "Damn I'm 
tired.  Go check on Emily."  He seemed to be losing 
that veneer of a "proper Victorian manner."  This was 
the real Orca speaking.  No frilly language.  Frankly, 
I liked him better.

Emily looked very strange compared to the way we 
toothed whales partially transform.  She'd kept her 
hair, her face was still human, and she had not changed 
in size at all.  But her skin was a deep blackish color 
while her hands were an off white.  Her neck was also 
faintly grooved.  Then I looked harder.

"Oh^Å oh no."  I said quietly.  She had put a lot of 
herself into the ship.  Too much, in fact.  It was not 
a *physical* thing, but what can only be termed as her 
"soul" was tied to the ship in such a way that it was 
impossible to immediately separate herself from it.  I 
could feel her doing so, but it was so slow as to just 
creep along just within my range of perception.  "It's 
going to take her years to separate herself!"  And we 
only had an hour at best, probably much, much less.  I 
made as if to remove her from the bulkhead.

<<NO!!>>  Yelled Orca in a voice the brooked no 
opposition.  "If you move her she will die a soul-
ripping death!  You must not touch her."

"But Master!  She'll die anyway when this ship sinks^Å"  
For a moment he shook his head.  "Won't^Å she?"

"My understanding of this type of soul bonding to 
inanimate objects is that she will *not*.  Even the 
ship snapping in half^Å I'm sure you can hear it 
creaking now^Å won't hurt her I don't *think*.  That's 
the only part I don't know about.  Now please, Child, 
go and find Darius.  You and he should be not remain 
separated.  Time is short."

I shook my big head in resignation.  <"Okay, Orca.  
I'll believe you this *once*.  But if you're wrong 
nothing you can tell me will *ever* convince me to do 
another Task for you again!">  Over the past few months 
I'd grown quite fond of my stodgy humpback "cousin".   
She was very dear to me and I meant every word I said.

He looked a bit apologetic.  "I know^Å I'll won't Call 
you again if that is your wish.  Now *go*.  I need to 
concentrate."

I turned my mind in the direction of Darius, pinpointed 
him, then went human again and left those two in their 
tired task.

As I was walking aft towards one of the staircases, I 
saw a large cabinet on rollers.  In the back of my mind 
I realized that it might hit Orca right in the back, 
but for some reason I overlooked that.  Instead I 
walked onward and upwards in the direction of Darius's 
mind-sound.

**************

After a few more minutes of being one with the ship I 
realized two things:  One; this ship knew it was doomed 
the moment it's first keel plates were riveted 
together, and two; I had sunk myself too deeply into 
the ship's "soul" to remove myself with any speed.

All the lifeboats except the collapsibles were gone 
now, and several men were quickly trying to ready them.  
They would not succeed very well.

I saw Bottle pushing through the crowd of those below 
decks in steerage.  At the top of the stairs he got a 
serious expression^Å then punched a crewmember in the 
nose.  That released the throng from below.  <<Thank 
you!>>  I said to him.  He had another long rip in the 
back of his shirt, and his pendant was glowing in order 
to protect him from the cold.  <<Don't mention it.>> He 
returned.  <<How are you Em?  Orca said you'd^Å um.>>

<<Slowly pulling myself out^Å  I'm *so* tired!  The 
water in the bow is reaching a literal breaking point^Å 
I can feel the metal just bending under the strain!  I 
lost a section just a moment ago.  Part of a bulkhead 
in a boileroom just caved in!  But I'm having 
difficulty pulling myself free.  I've sunk in too 
deeply.>>  I did not tell him I knew I was going to go 
down with the ship. 

<<Orca told me.  Why'd you do this, Emily?  Why?  
You're going to die, I just *know* it!>>

<<If I die, then it's because I've sacrificed myself 
for the seven hundred-odd souls aboard those lifeboats, 
those whose lives will remain unaltered.  Without my 
support, the ship would of sunk too fast for even 
*half* the lifeboats to be launched!  You realize that 
Orca and I have been defying his Mother outright?  
She's been lax so far, but when She finds out what 
we're doing^Å  There will be punishment.  Probably not 
severe, but it's inevitable.>>

<<You know I just don't understand this "self 
sacrifice" thing?  We bottlenoses^Å>>

<<Oh, shut up Bottle!>> I retorted.  <<If you were the 
'stereotypical bottlenose' Orca would never have Called 
you in the first place!  You, Marcus, and others are 
Disciples *because* you are supposed to understand what 
self sacrifice is while your pod-brothers are mystified 
by the whole concept!  

<<Take my species.  Humor is an alien concept to us.  
Centuries of hunting by humans have bred it out.  We 
feel no real hatred for them, but my mother volunteered 
to lead the whalers away from the rest of the group so 
the others could live!  Yes, we're stuffy realists, but 
only because we *have* to be.  But I was always the 
'black sheep' in my family, as it were.  They tried to 
train the sense of humor out of me, but nothin' doin'!  
If you think a moment you'll realize that you know 
something of self sacrifice.  Think of your first 
Task.>>

There was a pause, then a moment of pure epiphany.  <<I 
think I remember all too clearly.  I had to basically 
kill those men on those whaling ship.  Protecting some 
of *your* species, I might add.  Kill^Å  among my 
species it's almost considered sacrilegious to even 
*hurt* a human.  No wonder I was bullied when I came 
back^Å  I had to join a whole other pod!  Not an easy 
thing.  But it was a strange feeling^Å  now that I think 
about it I felt *good* about myself.  Even though I've 
felt a bit of guilt ever since.  Whoa^Å>>  The ship 
seemed to be tilting rather quickly.  <<I think I see 
Darius now.  God Emily, I^Å>>

<<Don't worry about me.  I'll be okay no matter what 
happens.  Goodbye, Bottle.>>

<<Good^Å bye.>>

The moment he said that, I heard an amazingly beautiful 
and apologetic voice say, <<I'M SORRY, CETUS.>>  Then 
give a little push to^Å something.  I heard a rolling 
noise.  Then a heavy cabinet on rollers shot past me 
going *very* fast^Å Orca could not see it coming behind 
him, nor could he hear it because of his intense 
concentration.

It hit him a glancing blow, just missing (on purpose, I 
thought) his relatively tall dorsal fin.  But it must 
of weighed a couple hundred pounds at least.  He was 
knocked senseless, sprawled on his stomach.  In his 
unconsciousness he transformed completely, then 
disappeared in a flash of light.

I could not do anything about it.  With Orca no longer 
holding back the water, the bow started to plunge.

******************

The last thing I saw before I decided to head for the 
stern was J. Bruce Ismay getting into collapsible D.  I 
did not really feel any real hatred for him, not now 
anyway, especially when Ape had gone up to him and 
said: "*You* will bear the brunt of the blame for this 
disaster!  You are the partial cause of it, but not 
all.  You will not remember me, but for the rest of 
your life will you bear the mark of your incompetence!  
And I will suffer with you, Child of mine.  Because it 
is as much *your* fault as it is *mine.*"

The other men started to unlash collapsible B, but I 
wandered aft instead, wondering where Emily and Bottle 
were.

Just as the bow started to submerge faster, Bottle 
appeared out of nowhere.  "Think it's time to jump?" he 
asked me quickly.

"No, not yet.  Where's Emily?"

"Well^Å I^Å uh^Å"

"Come on, spit it out."

"She asked me not to tell you.  And hell if I'm going 
to go against her wishes."  The slope of the deck was 
such that we had to lean in towards the stern to remain 
level.  "Orca will explain all later, or so I'm told.  
I'm sorry, Darius."

I did not like the sound of that.  I knew what she was 
doing, and how dangerous it was.  I looked around for 
Ape, but he seemed to have disappeared^Å  "It's okay, 
Bottle.  I'm not worried, I've had a lot of experience 
over my three hundred-odd years.  I've soul-bonded like 
this myself, she should not have any problems.  The 
thing is, she's inexperienced.  The water is over two 
miles deep here, and if she withdraws completely^Å"  
Then she would be crushed by the pressure!  My only 
hope was that Orca would be ready to transport her 
once.  Not much comfort.  But I had a job to do.  I 
would not make her sacrifice in vain.

Then the moment came.  The ship shuddered for a moment, 
then with a gurgle a wave of water washed aft from the 
bow, which had started to plunge much faster than 
before.

I saw the wave carry away Col. Gracie and his friend 
Clinch Smith.  I'd given Smith a coin with a bottlenose 
on it, and when he was swept under I felt a pulse that 
meant he'd disappeared.  The lights flickered and 
dimmed a little.

The noise from the ship itself was tremendous!  
Everything from dishes and pans to tons of baggage and 
even motor cars must of been rushing forward.  Bottle 
and I held on to the railing, the only thing keeping us 
from falling down.

The band stopped playing.

I saw Captain Smith take a header off the bridge.  Then 
the wave caught Bottle and washed him overboard.  I was 
not worried about him, or myself.  Because a moment 
later after a few blue flashes under water I saw an 
orca surface not a hundred feet away.  I waved to him, 
but he did not respond, apparently getting used to this 
other cetacean form.

The stern rose higher and higher.  People began to jump 
off the ship.  So, with a sigh, I did so too.

Jumping into the cold water was like a thousand tiny 
knives driven into me.  But my ring clicked into action 
not a moment later, and I ripped out of my clothes into 
my part orca form.  Bottle came up next to me and did 
the same, and we treaded water on the Surface.  "You 
*really* don't want to go down there just yet," he 
said.  "The noise that ship is making nearly deafened 
me!"

We swam out further among some floating debris, keeping 
out of sight.  Our bright white undersides would of 
shown us off immediately.  To the uninitiated, Bottle 
and I might seem like identical twins.  But the white 
patches above his eyes were a little more circular than 
mine.  But we could be brothers otherwise.  "How do you 
feel?" I asked.

"Big.  Big, big, big.  How *do* you deal with it?"

"You'll find out.  You won't have to deal with it much 
longer anyway."  We both watched as the stern tilted 
higher, and higher.  We heard splashes as people began 
to jump off the stern.  Though no others seemed to be 
disappearing^Å not yet anyway.  I wondered what Orca was 
waiting for.

Then with a great tearing of metal, the forward funnel 
fell forward, killing many outright I was sure.  We had 
to grit our teeth as the noise from Below echoed up 
into our ears, "blinding" our Sight.

Then the lights failed.  I wondered what would become 
of those still trapped inside the ship, especially the 
stokers and firemen who'd heroically kept her lights 
burning throughout the whole thing.  The ship could 
only be seen as an outline against the starry sky.

With a great cracking and booming, the ship began to 
split in two.  It was a sound I will always remember.  
It was almost like the ship was screaming.  Then I 
realized I Heard Emily's voice over the scream^Å

I was too shocked to do anything about it, nor could I 
in any case.  I did not know if she would be in the bow 
or the stern section.  I dove below the Surface for a 
moment, and Saw the bow plunging at an incredible 
speed, two miles down.  The stern settled to an even 
keel for a moment, people jumping off of it.  Then it, 
too began to sink, broken end going under first until 
it was almost perpendicular to the water.

There was silence on the water, all were speechless.  
The stern sank lower and lower, picking up speed as it 
went.  It sank so calmly that I could see people just 
swim away without getting their hair wet.

Emily was once more large in my mind as I saw the 
greatest technological achievement yet by mankind slip 
silently beneath the waves.


-----
Jon Sleeper
jsleeper@cts.com

Web Page: http://www.users.cts.com/sd/j/jsleeper/index.html

"He was so narrow minded he could see through a keyhole with both eyes..."
* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to Jon Sleeper <jsleeper@cts.com> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
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From ahasell@es.co.nz Wed Nov 20 12:31:21 1996
Date: Sat, 16 Nov 1996 17:21:27 +1300
From: Alan Hasell <ahasell@es.co.nz>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: TG Story - The Power of Love

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This story contain sexually explicit material.  If you are under 18 or that
is not your thing DON'T read any further.

Also if Mind Power wasn't your scene don't bother with this.  It's concept
was developed at the same time as Mind Power and they have many themes in
common (hence similar titles).

Anyone who enjoys this story has the right to post it where they wish
although I would like them to contact me first so I can ensure any posting
has any late corrections in it.  Please leave the sig as is.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE POWER OF LOVE, by Alan

Chapter 1 - Lust's Lesson

I have been seeing Stacy for nearly a year. My long time girl friend thinks
I have a security job from 8 till 8 every Friday night. Stacy is 21 and is
5'4" of gorgeous blonde. Her naturally curly hair falls halfway down her
back and she frequently has to push her fringe back away from her clear blue
eyes. Her lips are deep red, full, and so soft. She has sexy legs, full
hips, beautiful rounded arse, a slim waist and a DD cup bust. Her breasts
are impossibly full and firm for their size and are tipped by the most
perfect nipples.

My favorite thing about Stacy though is her taste in clothes. She always
wears figure hugging skirts and dresses. All in bright colors and slinky
fabrics, mainly satin, silk and leather. Her shoes and boots all have 4 or 5
inch stiletto heels. Even after a year I still get a hard on just looking at
her.

You may have gathered that I am deep in lust, not love, with Stacy and the
only complication is that she is deeply in love with me. This particular
Friday we met at a pub in town. She was wearing a sleeveless yellow satin
mini dress that hugged her figure and had a ruffle at the waist that hung
lightly on the top of her hips. Matching patent stilettos and purse
completed the simple but sexy outfit.

Walking back to her place around 10 O'clock, we took our usual back route
away from prying eyes. Unknown to us someone waited for us tonight and
rounding a dark corner, he confronted us with a gun demanding money. I guess
I was to scared to think, but for what ever reason I just kept walking.

Bad idea, he cocked the gun and as he fired Stacy moved in front of me. She
was thrown against me by the blast and I fell holding her.  Our "would be"
mugger said "Shit" and turned and run off into the dark.

Frightened and confused by the suddeness of it all, I found myself holding a
obviously dying Stacy and professing a love her that even at that moment
wasn^Òt totally real. Her response is etched in my memory "Your love is all I
ever wanted, I only wish I believed you.  All that does matter now, my only
wish is that you have what ever it was you wanted.". As she spoke I was
aware of an eerie silence (Later I would swear everything around us was
listening). As her body went limp a eerie blue light seemed to join us.

A part of what had happened seeped into my shocked brain. Placing her gently
on the ground my brain started to whir with wild thoughts of what someone
might think if they found me here. As panic set in, I started to run blindly
away, unconsciously continuing on towards Stacy's flat.

My run became a stumble as strange pains started to shoot through my body,
increasing until my body seemed to be on fire . Steadying myself on a
rubbish bin, I looked down and noticed that my hands and arms seemed different. 
Obviously I was starting to really crack up now, they seemed to be finer and
smoother. A fresh wave of pain hit me and I stumbled on. I had to see a
doctor but what I would say about where I had been.

Seeing phone box I entered but, as I reached for the phone, a sudden
excruciating pain caused me to collapse. As it receded I tried to rise and
saw my reflection in the glass. I was stunned, my face also seemed to have
changed, it was distinctly softer looking and fine boned, my eyes larger and
rounder, and my short straight brown hair was now curly, lighter, and hung
below shoulder level. An impossible suspicion dawned on me, my hands, arms
and face seemed almost feminine, but I dismissed it as an illusion caused by
my panic. Enough suspicion remained though to get me moving on to Stacy's
again. I desparately wanted to look in a mirror.

As I turned into Stacy's street, I noticed the pain had receded from my
head, arms and legs and was now concentrated in my body. My chest burning, I
doubled over sobbing with pain and hugging my chest. It felt wrong. My hands
should have felt hard muscle but instead cupped soft flesh. I pulled my
T-shirts neck forward and looked down inside it. Real horror dawned as the
street lights revealed two soft mounds of flesh on my chest.  They were
tipped by nipples which had expanded as the skin under them had filled out.
I had the budding breasts of a teenage girl and the continued pain told me I
was still changing.

My hair was now quite long and, flicking it back away from my eyes, I forced
myself on to Stacy's. Getting out my copy of her key, I reached to unlock
the door and stopped, my fingers were now very feminine, and tipped by long
well shaped nails. Slamming the door behind me, I stumbled to the bathroom
with its mirrored wall. Holding myself up on the bathroom cabinet, I turned
and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was now long curly and blonde.
As I pushed it back from my face with my delicate hands, I discovered
Stacy's face looking back. Glancing down I saw that my T-shirt now clung to
two full and firm breasts, No longer could they be described as budding and,
even if they stopped growing now, I could never hide their feminine
contours. Stacy's dying wish had been that I had whatever it was I had
wanted from our relationship and that had always been her body. It was now
obvious that that was exactly what I was getting!

At that moment a fresh wave of pain struck and I doubled up on the floor.
The pain in my chest was a little less now but my crotch was aflame. I
rolled on the floor with my hands between my legs. The pain in my chest died
away and as it lessened in my crotch, I realized how complete my
transformation was. There was no longer a bulge of cock and balls in my
crotch. Instead I felt a soft round mound of flesh between my legs. The pain
gone I also realized that my lower abdomen felt strange. In fact my whole
body felt softer and there was a heat building under my hand as it explored
the new emptiness in my crotch. I could feel the soft outline and gentle
curves of a woman's pussy. The gentle pressure on my new feminine softness
caused a strange warmth to develop between my legs and spread deep into my
belly.

With the pain gone, I felt the shifting weight of my breasts as I climbed to
my feet. Scared of what I would see I looked in the mirror. Stacy looked
back. My breasts were now so large they stretched my T-shirt, my large
nipples clearly visible, and my jeans were skin tight, showing off my
feminine hips and thighs. They also clearly revealed the empty gap between
my legs which warmed even more as I looked at the vision in the mirror. I
was becoming conscious of a sensation of dampness between my legs.

Noticing how much bigger the room seemed, I realized I must have shrunk
nearly 8 inches to Stacy's 5'4" and I started to wonder how my clothes still
fitted. As if in answer my image in the mirror shimmered and blurred. As it
refocused, I gasped in a high pitched, feminine voice and stared at the
yellow satin dress and stilettos I now wore. The outfit was identical to the
one Stacy had worn tonight, right down to her makeup and dangling ear rings.
Even her purse had appeared in my hand. Laying it on the bathroom cabinet, I
unconsciously smoothed the dress down and felt arousal flow through me at
the feel of my satin clad, woman's body and how it looked in the figure
hugging dress and high heels. I was now an exact copy of Stacy and all
traces of my masculinity were gone.

If I was Stacy then was she ^Å..! The full implications hit me, I had to go
and check it out. Grabbing Stacy's black satin, quilted coat, I ran out the
door, slipping the coat on as I ran. The silk lining felt beautiful on my
bare arms and caused an increase in my already strong arousal.

I was forced to stop running. My high heeled stilettos made running both
noisy and difficult (although easier that I would have thought).  Anyway, my
chest hurt, Stacy did not wear bras and my large breasts were bouncing
painfully as I ran. Walking was only slightly better, my heels still clicked
noisily on the pavement and I was very conscious of the weight of my breasts
and the way they moved gently with each step, rubbing my nipples teasingly
on the inside of my dress. It occurred to me that any man I met would find a
beautiful woman, such as I now was, very tempting and I tried to pull my
mini dress lower to reduce the raw sexuality of my appearance. Failing
miserably, I zipped up my coat and tied the belt in a bow around my waist.
My reflection in a shop window showed the result was little better. Although
my coat hid more of my sexy legs, it highlighted my slim waist, which in
turn accentuated my bust and hips. I was also disturbed by the effect the
noise of the coats sleeves rubbing against my hips, which now seemed so
wide, and the slinky feeling of satin rubbing on satin, was having me.  My
crotch and nipples were starting to tingle.

Arriving at the alley where the attack occurred, I saw a crowd and pushed
through. The close physical contact with others made me uncomfortably
conscious of my sexy clothing and the soft mounds of my breasts underneath. 

Reaching the front, I caught sight of my male form being placed on a
stretcher and covered up. I might have collapsed with shock, but the feel of
a hand running over my bum, accompanied by a man^Òs voice saying "Hello
beautiful", caused self preservation to strengthen me. I turned to find a
rough looking man smiling lecherously and looking me up and down in an
appraising way. His obvious size and strength made me conscious that I was
small, weak and vulnerable. Realizing the folly of being a beautiful woman
alone on the street at night, I dodged quickly away from him and went
quickly home to Stacy's.

Once inside, I locked the doors and windows and went to Stacy's bedroom. I
discovered I couldn't see the coat's belt over my large bust and had to undo
it by touch. Unzipping it, I dropped it on the bed and tried to think. I had
to find a way to change back. I couldn't go through life as a woman. I had
always been very sexually active and my brief time as a woman had proven
that hadn't changed, but this body was designed to attract and have sex with
men.  I didn't want that but I was also incapable of long term abstinence.
Given enough time in a female body and the wrong circumstances, I might give
in to my libido and do something I hated to even think about.

Revolted at that line of thought, I concentrated on more immediate matters.
Until I could figure out a way to reverse these changes, I needed to make
myself less attractive to men. I removed all makeup, although I knew Stacy
was beautiful even without it, and then took off my jewelry.  I replaced the
large dangling ear rings with studs because a part of me felt wrong about
wearing no earings. Slipping out of my stilettos, I started to look for
modest clothing.

The best I could find was a black stain blouse, calf length blue satin skirt
(it was straight to the knees and pleated to the shins) and a pair of knee
length leather boots, with three inch stiletto heels. Removing my dress
presented new difficulties, the zip down my back proving more difficult than
I had expected. Slipping the dress off my shoulders, I let it fall to the
floor and stopped short.

My naked body in the mirror was gorgeous and my libido kicked in. Curious I
bent and slid my panties off, very aware of the way my large breasts hung
heavily from my chest as I did it. Standing up they settled enticingly and
my full feminine beauty was revealed. Distinctly horny, I ran my hands over
my body. First I flicked my hair, which tumbled down my chest almost to my
nipples, over my shoulders, feeling its softness my strangely sensitive
skin. Running my hands down and over my magnificent breasts, I played with
my nipples as they grew and hardened. They were now almost as sensitive as
the tip of my cock had been. The twinges they sent through my body were
wonderful and I found myself thinking that being Stacy might have it's
interesting points.

Sitting on the edge of the bed I spread my legs and, holding my thighs apart
with my hands, I looked down between my breasts. My smooth flat stomach, led
to a triangle blonde pubic hair, through which I could just see my clitoris.
This could be very interesting, I thought, as one hand moved to massage my
breasts and the other slipped over to explore my mound. My pubes were now
softer and shorter than they had been and gentle contact with my clitoris
sent shivers right through my body.  I slid an experimental finger up and
down my pussy's opening and I sighed with pleasure at the wonder full
sensations it caused. Slipping a finger into my virgina's entrance, I felt
the familiar, moist silken folds and contours.  As my finger sank deeper
into me, the ball of my hand pressed into my clitoris and I felt a powerful
sexual surge. I started to realize why woman enjoyed foreplay so much, it
caused a deep and gentle arousal that my male experiences could not match.

My mind was doing the slightly confusing trick of remembering how these acts
felt from a mans point of view, while my body felt it from an entirely
different perspective.  As the new and highly erotic sensation flooded my
mind, I pushed another finger into my pussy. That was it! I arched my back
as my mind did a very strange thing. I could almost feel my woman^Òs breasts
pushing against my man's chest. All pretense gone, I imagined a man's cock
pumping into my pussy and his crotch grinding into my clitoris. As I came, I
felt my virgina's muscles contract rhythmically on my fingers, as an orgasm
better than any male one, swept through me.

As the spasms subsided, I was torn between revulsion at my unbidden fantasy
and a feeling of privilege at being able to experience such sensuality.
After 30 years as a man, it was like a new door had opened and revealed the
ultimate treasure. Feeling sleep catch up on me, I climbed into bed. My
thoughts of a return to masculinity were now tinged with regret and even
reluctance. 


Chapter 2 - Love and Hate

As I woke up I wondered at my strange and erotic dream. It had seemed so
real. Rolling over and putting my hands under my cheek, I felt one forearm
nestle between my warm breasts. Sitting bolt upright, I realized it hadn't
been a dream, I really was in Stacy's body! In a strangely modest gesture I
pulling the sheets up to cover my breasts and tried to think of how I would
(not could) reverse my changes.  The only glimmer of hope, considering the
circumstances of my change, seemed to be an occultist and luckily I knew of
a medium who would be open for business in a couple of hours.

What to do till then was the question. I needed to get dressed, even now the
knowledge of my woman's body was causing sensations in my pussy that I
preferred to avoid. Showering quickly, I tried, with some success, to avoid
touching my breasts and pussy or looking in mirrors. Those things could have
distracted me from my purpose.

Putting on a pair of black satin bikini briefs, I cursed Stacy's dislike of
bras. Picking up the blouse I slipped it on, it felt beautiful on my
hairless skin. Stepping into the satin skirt, I tucked in my blouse, and
zipped it up. I had intended to leave by blouse untucked in order to help
hide my figure, but it was to cold for that. As I had seen other woman do, I
slipped the skirt up and pulled the bottom of the blouse down.  The satin
sliding back down my legs was truly erotic.

Wearing a skirt was a novel sensation, knowing it zipped at the back and the
restriction of my leg movement.  Finally I pulled on the boots and zipped
them snug around my calves.

Standing I looked in the mirror. The clothes may have been the least sexy of
Stacy owned, but the effect was far sexier than I had wanted. Obviously I
was going to have to buy clothes in order to dress down. Luckily I knew
Stacy kept her pin number in her purse "the ditzy blonde" I thought.
Picking up a black leather hand bag, I threw a purse in, shouldered the
strap and walked to the door.

As I passed the mirror I noticed how my breasts moved gently, but visibly,
under my blouse. My skirt sheen revealed the shape of my legs and hips as I
walked and my calves kicked the skirts pleats. Crowning all that, the
stiletto heels and tight skirt forced a sexy hip swaying walk. Unconsciously
smoothing my skirt with my hands, the slinky, sexy look combined with the
feel of my satin clad body to cause an explosion of warmth between my legs.

Locking the door I started to walk to the shops. I was very conscious of my
breasts gently swaying, the feel of satin brushing on satin and the click of
my heels on the pavement. Worse though than it's effect on me, was the looks
men gave me as I passed, one even wolf whistled at me. The feeling that they
thought of me as some kind of sex toy was degrading and I hurried on to town.

My first purchase was a black stain bra to match my panties. It's foreign
constriction was better than the distracting movement of my unfettered
breasts. This was followed by the purchase of a pair of baggy jeans, a large
sweatshirt and sneakers. I got a perverse satisfaction from dumping my satin
outfit in a bin.

Arriving at the Medium's rooms, I introduced myself as Helen and explained I
needed to speak with Stacy's spirit. She lead me to a darkened room and we
settled on cushions piled on the floor. At the mediums request for an item
of Stacy's I removed my studs from my ears and gave them to her. After
sometime in a supposed trance, I was about to give up when she suddenly
collapsed on the cushions. At the same moment I felt a chill run through me
and a presence in the room which felt strangely familiar.

Suddenly my old male voice spoke inside my head. "I thought you might try to
contact me. Before you ask, nothing can reverse the changes in you although
I can add to them. Now I know the truth it seems you got your just reward
for all your lies but considering how you are dressed now, you are getting
off too lightly! I am going to make some adjustments. You will find out what
they are soon enough, enjoy your life Stacy!". As the presence faded I
called out "Stacy, please, I can't live life as a woman. I^Òll lose
everything, even my mates will hit on me!". There was no response and I
started to wonder what she had meant by 'adjustments'. Seeing the Medium was
still unconscious but breathing normally, I left her fee beside her and left.


Chapter 3 - Revenge is Sweat

Looking down at my clothing I realized Stacy was right, I had over done it.
They were distinctly uncomplimentary and another round of buying was needed.
Lost in thought about what to buy and where to get it I wandered out and was
surprised to find myself in the Adult Sex shop above the Medium's rooms.
Turning to leave, a rack of latex dresses caught my eye. I had always been
aroused by models in latex and quick look couldn't hurt, so I stopped and
ran my hands over the shiny fabric. A shiver of excitement ran through me
and, noticing a particularly nice pink dress, I took it off the rack and
held it up for a better look. It had long sleeves, a high neck and a hole in
the front which would reveal a substantial amount of cleavage. Holding it
against my body I noted it would barely cover my crotch and was so small it
would fit like a glove.

I was about to put it back when the shop assistant approached and suggested
I try it on. 'Why not' I thought 'I am in the privacy of the shop. It might
be fun and it would be a unique experience'.

The shop assistant led me to a large mirrored changing room. He stayed with
me, which I was surprised to note, instead of worrying me, actually added to
the arousal I was feeling. Removing my clothes, I reached for the dress but
he stopped me, suggesting I remove my bra and panties so their lines didn't
show under the dress. Doing so I noted him shift uneasily as he watched. He
helped me talc my body and noticing the distinct bulge of his erection in
his jeans, I realized I was distinctly horny myself. The contact of his
hands as he dusted my back caused ripples of warm contractions in my pussy
and, as he dusted my bum, I couldn't help giggling and wiggling my bum
provocatively. Part of me wondered what Stacy had done to me.

Taking the dress, I pulled the arms on and squeezed my head through the
tight neck. Pulling it down proved difficult, he stepped forward and,
standing in front of me, tried to help. I suggested he do the back but
instead of moving around me, he just moved closer and reached around me, my
bare nipples brushed tantalizingly on his chest. As the dress slid down my
body, I smelt his musky masculine odor and was surprised at the now wet
feeling between my legs. As the dress reached my hips, he knelt down to get
a better grip on the dress. As he did his warm breath hit my naked pussy.
It's touch on my now swollen clitoris, as it poked through my mound, made me
dizzy with desire and I let go of the dress and steadied myself with both
hands on his shoulders. Taking this as an invitation he leaned forward and
nuzzled my pussy, flicking his tongue over my exposed clitoris.

Losing all control, I parted my legs, tilted my pelvis to give him better
access and started running my fingers through his hair. Using his hands to
pull my pussy's lips apart, he started to run his tongue all around my hot
hole. The effect was electric, my breathing became short and I started to
moan and pant uncontrollably. Inserting two fingers into my slick virgina,
he stood up and pushed me slowly backwards. I found myself waddling slightly
in order to allow his fingers to remain inside my pussy, the feeling of his
hand rubbing on my clitoris as I moved was delicious. My juices were all
over his hand by now and it's slick feel as it rubbed on the sensitive
inside of my thighs was exquisite.

As my bum came to rest on a table I felt his fingers probe deep in my
virgina and suddenly they found what must have been my G-Spot. That was it,
panting loudly, I frantically undid his jeans and reaching in pulled his
stiff cock free. It's head was slick and wet and as I curled my fingers
around it, his breathing quickened. Gently moving my hand up and down his
shaft, I used my free hand to push his pants and boxer shorts over his hips
and they slid to the floor. Releasing his cock, I lifted my legs to his
waist and, hooking them around him, pulled him towards me.

Removing his fingers from my pussy, he lifted my legs till my rubber clad
breasts were between them , my knees almost under my arms, and my feet over
his shoulders.  My unprotected sex was totally exposed sex to him. I was
helpless, pinned on the narrow table between him and the wall. Looking down,
I marveled at the way my flexible woman's hips allowed my virgina to be
presented to him. He started to rub the engorged head of his dick around my
glistening gash and, in my helpless desperation to feel it inside me, I
looked at him and whimpered "Please fuck me. I want to feel your cock inside
me!". In that moment, I realized I was behaving and talking like a slut. As
I felt his hot cock pushing into my virgina I found I didn't care. Yelling
"Oh Yes! Fuck me!" I looked down and watched him bury his cock in my pussy.
The feeling of my virgina being forced wide was beautiful and more quietly
said "Oh, it feels soo good!". He started to pump in and out of me, the
feeling of his cock inside my virgina was as incredible as it was new.
Closing my eye's I slipped one hand around my bum and started to rub my
swollen clitoris.

I felt my orgasm build and start to roll through me. His cock felt enormous
as my virgina's muscles contracted around it. I screamed "Harder, fuck me
harder" and the violence of his contact with me just drove me higher. My
orgasm was amazing and seemed to roll on forever. Suddenly his cocks
movement slowed inside me, and then I felt it jerk again and again deep in
my virgina, depositing his seed at very the entrance to my womb. The
helpless but satisfied femininity of my situation filled me and I whispered
"I love having this body, I never knew being a woman could feel so good!".

He lowered my feet to the floor and I relaxed, savoring the warm after glow
of my orgasm. As his limp cock slipped slowly out of my virgina I discovered
I could still fell his warm come inside me. He left the room and I stood up,
his quick departure made me feel cheap and used.

The whole episode showed that my female body was in control now and my
inability to resist it's sexual urges had frightening implications. Changing
my back was now even more important. These thoughts were interrupted as I
felt his come running down the inside of my thighs as it leaked from my
pussy. Grabbing my sweatshirt, I wiped it off and was stunned to feel my
body respond to the caress, either a woman^Òs recovery was fast than I had
thought or Stacy's 'adjustments' had included making me a nympho. I needed
to dress down and get home before my needs led to more sex as a female.

That was when I realized I had just ruined my sweatshirt and now would have
to wear the rubber dress, at least until I could buy something else. So much
for less sexy clothing. Pulling the tight pink sheath down over my hips, I
noticed that it was so short bending over would reveal my pussy. Testing, I
crouched down and looked behind me in the mirror. Even that act revealed the
moist pussy between my legs. It's swollen lips were clearly visible poking
through my mound.

Standing up I was surprised to see the shop assistant return.  He offered me
a pair of matching pink latex thigh boots as a gift for 'services rendered'.
It felt wrong to have a man offering me a gift in exchange for sex and I
nearly refused but I needed shoes and I would look ridiculous wearing my
sneakers with this dress. Dusting my legs with talc, I perched on the table
and pulled the boots on. They had impossible five inch stiletto heels and
fitted my legs like a glove, finishing just short of my dresses hem and
revealing just a couple of inches of smooth, white thigh.

Standing up I looked at him and realized I had given him a excellent view of
my pussy as I had put them on. It took a real effort to tear my eyes away
from the bulge in his pants. Checking myself in the mirror, I felt a thrill
run through me, the rubber clung like a second skin and I might as well have
been naked. Every curve of my body was revealed. I adjusted my breasts to
show the maximum cleavage and smoothed the dress against my body. I was
stunningly beautiful and very sexy. I was starting to enjoy looking this way.

Back in the shop I selected a pink patent clutch bag and paid using Stacy's
cash card. On impulse I selected some long dangling ear rings and put them
on. They were three inches long, with a pink velvet bow and a large gold
heart. They felt heavy on my ears and swung as I turned my head, brushing
tantalizingly on my neck. Putting on makeup from my bag I prepared to leave.
The assistant stopped me, "Watching you would give the Pope a hard on. Stay
and we can enjoy ourselves some more". Walking sexily over to him, I ran a
finger down his chest, "Tempting but I have to go". Feeling his muscle under
my finger my feminine arousal increased and I quickly turned and left before
I lost control again.

Out on the street, my arousal persisted and I was conscious my prominent
nipples were clearly visible through my dress. I found the extra height of
the heels caused my hips to sway in a way that exaggerated my already
extreme sexuality. The knowledge of the effect I was having on men around me
was making me very horny and I was finding it impossible to stop thinking of
my desire to have a hot prick inside me again. I was rapidly loosing control
again. Had I been able to think properly I would have realized the Stacy's
'adjustments' had been an insatiable sex drive, a switch sexual orientation
and a compulsion to display my sexuality.

Wondering why I had wanted to change out of these beautiful clothes, I
entered one of the seedier bars and walked slowly and sensually to the back.
Every man there watched my every move. Pretending to drop my bag I bent to
pick it up, giving them all a good, long look at my naked, glistening pussy.
Standing and turning I said "Anyone want to screw me?". Several stood and
moved towards me.  Selecting the biggest one I asked him to collect $20 per
punter in exchange for a share of the money and a private session.

Turning away I lay over a table and presented my now throbbing sex to the
bar. Hearing a fly unzip behind me, I shivered with delighted anticipation
and feeling a cock sliding into my slick virgina, purred with pleasure. 
Immediately he finished another took his place and I started towards my
first orgasm. Opening my eye's I found a cock in front of me and, unable to
help myself I reached out, gently wrapped my fingers around it and started
to stoke it slowly up and down. As it's owner moved closer I licked it's tip
and then slipped it's swollen head into my mouth. Using my other hand I
cupped and fondled his balls and moved my head down on it, burying it deep
in my throat. The sensation of hot cocks in my virgina and mouth at the same
time brought me to immediately orgasm. Pumping up and down on the cock in my
mouth, it came quickly, filling my mouth with thick creamy come, which I
swallowed greedily.

This "two up" sex continued until closing time brought it to an end. Taking
my share from my 'pimp' I sat down to count it and discovered I had come all
over my bare arse and even my back. Worse I found I couldn't count past the
fingers on my hands. Confused at my failure at simple maths I put the money
in my purse and mutely stood so my ^Ñpimp^Ò could wipe me clean with a towel.
His attentions were making me horny again and when he finished I sat down
again and found the bulge in his pants was right in front of me, it was the
biggest I had ever seen. As sore as my pussy was I wanted to feel this
monster inside me.

Just as I reached for his fly, everything seemed to freeze, I found I could
think of other things and a familiar voice spoke inside my head. "Before I
leave you to your new fate, I wanted to make sure you know what has been
done to you. You already know your sex drive is now insatiable but you will
also find that all forms of sex appeal to you no matter how perverted.
Whatever your partner wants you will want and you will be totally
submissive. Unfortunately your mind will fight this so I have dropped your
IQ to 60. Basic maths is beyond you and you will only be able to grasp the
simplest concepts. You are also now illiterate. This means you will be
totally dependent on others to survive. In order to ensure you learn your
lesson your memories of your past will remain. You could try to become a
hermit to avoid the influence of others. To prevent that you will be utterly
devoted to the next man who fucks you. ENJOY YOUR LIFE BITCH!".

Feeling the presence leave, I desperately tried to find a way out of the
horrendous situation Stacy had described, but it was hard to think and, as I
watched the man in front of me strip naked, I stopped trying and started to
grind my pussy into the seat. I was incredibly turned on and satisfying my
sexual need was all I could think of. Reaching for me he lifted me easily to
his chest and I wrapped my rubber clad arms and legs around him. His hands
holding me under my bare arse he lowered me slowly on to his massive erection.

Somewhere in me a voice cried "No!" but feeling his enormous cock push into
my virgina the voice died quietly and feeling intense desire I hugged him
even harder. I felt my virgina stretching to accommodate his hot cock and,
just as I thought it would burst, he stopped allowing my insides a chance to
adjust to its size. Looking at my lover through glazed eyes, I whispered
"Kitten want more". Pushing his cock fully into my pussy, I felt my clitoris
settle deliciously on his groin and I cried out at the pleasure that rolled
through me. The feel of his cock penetrating so deep into my belly seemed
the most important thing in my life and I whispered "Be nice to kitten.
Kitten loves you and will never leave".

As he laid me on the floor my legs curled round behind him and I used them
to pull him hard in to my crotch. I looked down at his cock, glistening with
my pussy's juices as it disappeared rhythmically into my hot snatch. That
combined with the feeling of his hot length inside me to make my femininity
complete. As yet another orgasm bloomed within me I cried out, "Oh yes!
Don't stop! Fuck me faster! I want to feel you come inside me!". We came
together and, as I felt his cock deposit his sperm deep inside me, I smiled
happily as I realized I actually wanted him to get me pregnant. Being his
wife and mother of his child would make my life complete and a piece of me
screamed in mental torment.
Alan

----------------------------------------------------------------------
Reality is just the Devils way of destroying a perfectly good fantasy.
----------------------------------------------------------------------

* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to Alan Hasell <ahasell@es.co.nz> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
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From apearson@d.umn.edu Wed Nov 20 12:31:24 1996
Date: Sat, 16 Nov 1996 04:32:45 -0600 (CST)
From: arthur pearson <apearson@d.umn.edu>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: Flight 7


Please mail comment directly to me. Thanks.
For list enjoyment or archiving, if applicable.
do not distribute.

Flight 7

	She lived in a nearby town, alone. Her husband died before Ajax 
was born, so he never knew his grandfather. On his mother's side, both 
her parents died in a car accident.
	First, they went to the local Kerr McGee Gas Station and 
Restaurant ("Eat Here and Get Gas" was their slogan) to pick up some 
chocolates to soften grandma's heart.
	Yanze picked up an issue of the local paper. On page 3, there was 
an article on the Winged Boy. Yanze motioned to Ajax to look at it. Greg 
came over and looked at the article. Ajax looked up from it dazedly and 
Greg snatched the paper out of Yanze's hands.
	The jist of the article said this: The rumors that have been so 
abound about a Flying Boy in this area, it brought a photographer from 
the Sun, who happened to get photographic evidence of the Winged Boy in 
action. Evidence that such a boy exists, as the boy, whose name is not 
given to protect him, was later identified by the photographer Rex Topper 
who had originally brought the Winged Boy photos in. The boy supposedly 
has ran away, and the police are making a thorough investigation into the 
matter.
	"Well!" said Yanze, putting his hands in his pockets after Greg 
had snatched it out of them. "It seems that we must not lose a minute in 
this matter. I suggest we depart immediately for Mrs. Krugan's house."
	Greg dumbly nodded, a bit subdued. Ajax took his friend's 
suggestion and walked out of the little shop. Greg gave the guy behind 
the counter a couple bucks and they left.

	Emily Krugan had an incredible house. The paint was deep blue, 
the railing incredibly white, all the flowers were forever healthy and 
bright, and her lawn was trimmed and was a perfect shade of grass green.
	Greg motioned to the kids, "Let me do the talking."
	He ushered them to the door, and used the knocker. Maybe two 
minutes passed until a "Who's there!" erupted from behind the door.
	"It's me! Greg!" shouted Greg back.
	"WHO??" came the reply.
	Greg put the chocolates to the peephole.
	"OH! Greg! Come in, come in!" there was a hurried clashing of 
bolts and locks and the door burst inward with a huge rush of air. The 
house smelled super clean on the inside, with a bit of chocolate. Emily 
smiled a smile that nearly split her head in two. "Greg!" she said, 
grabbing the chocolates. "You have guests! Tell me who they are, the 
darlings."
	"This is my son, Ajax, and this tall one is his friend Yanze." 
Greg said as he motioned to the two teens in their turn.
	"My, my. How big you are! Tell me, what grade are you in?"
	"Ah, Ajax is in 6th grade, and Yanze is in 8th, mother." Greg replied.
	"Splendid, splendid. Come in, my dears." Emily ushered them inside.
	The second the door was closed, Emily had rushed to the kitchen 
and was eating the chocolates.
	"Now, let's go into the basement and get those vials before she 
gets done with those." pushed Greg.
	They hurried toward the basement. All through the house, 
everything was immaculate. Everything was dusted, cleaned, and the air 
smelled like a hospital, with, of course, the faint hint of chocolate. 
Ajax unconsciously took his shoes off at the door.
	Before opening the door to the basement, Greg turned around and 
looked at the boys. "Now, you have to understand. She hasn't been down 
into the basement ever since dad died. That was well over 17 years ago." 
He opened it.
	Stale air of years of confinement wafted up from the basement and 
assailed their nostrils. They cautiously stepped down the creaking 
stairs. Greg found the chain for a light at the bottom of the stairs and 
pulled it.
	From the trembling light of the single light bulb, the boys could 
make out faint shapes in the gloom. A thick coat of dust had settled over 
everything, and the footsteps of somebody who had been here a few years 
ago could be seen.
	"Must have been a plumber or something." muttered Greg.
	Yanze took out a flashlight from his knapsack and flicked it on. 
Its powerful beam shot through the gloom and rising clouds of dust. Greg 
motioned to Yanze. "It's over here somewhere."
	The boys cautiously walked through the still place. Their 
footsteps were softened by the layers of dust, and the chill of being 
underground was beginning to get to Ajax, even though it was a hot fall 
day outside. Greg was shuffling around behind a huge pile of boxes. A 
faint "Ah, yes. Here it is," floated to the boys, as they came around to 
see Greg holding up a wooden box. He reached into it and pulled out a 
wire tray that was designed to hold 20 or more vials, but there was only 
10. One of them was half-full, and its seal was broken.
	"This is the stuff. Who'd have thought that these innocent things 
could have caused so much trouble."
	Yanze directed the flashlight at the vials.
	Ajax took them and gave them a once-over. The glass was old, but 
wasn't so old so that you couldn't see what was inside. The liquid in 
there was grayish, or it could have been a shade purple. "That's it?"
	"That's all there is. And I only got a drop on myself. I washed 
quickly and cleanly right afterward."
	"Well. I need to talk to Grandma." said Yanze.
	They went upstairs, and Yanze asked Emily where she found the vials.
	"Those old things? Why, they were here when we came into the 
house, along with most of the furniture. Probably belonged to that thief 
that lived here."
	"Thief?" asked Greg, genuinely perplexed.
	"Why, yes. I once heard that whoever owned this house was hauled 
off to jail in a big scene a few months before we came to live here."
	Greg looked puzzled. "Mom. You never said anything about that before."
	She looked at her son, matter-of-factly. "You never asked."
	Yanze said, "Mrs. Krugan, do you know anything about this thief. 
Where he was sent. What sentence he got. Anything."
	"No, I'm sorry, it was such a long time ago. He probably was sent 
off to the River Hills State Penetentary." An aged and slightly 
disgusting tongue licked the last remnants of chocolate off her 
lipsticked and shriveled lips.
	Yanze repressed a shudder. "You have been very helpful, Mrs. 
Krugan," he said to Emily. "Give her another chocolate," he whispered to 
Greg. Greg pulled out a Crunch bar and set it on the table.
	Emily gave another of her head-splitting smiles. It made you 
think that she was going to go for your neck.
	They waved good-bye and left the pristine house in haste.



-- 
-The Intolerable Picklejuice  (apearson@d.umn.edu)
http://www.d.umn.edu/~apearson
"The mob is getting ugly--" "They had a head start!"
"The fun never stops with the fun factory! Hang on, Max!"
"Cheeze whizzorama, Sam-- that's neat!"
       -Sam and Max
* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to arthur pearson <apearson@d.umn.edu> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
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From packrat@cybercomm.net Wed Nov 20 12:31:28 1996
Date: Sat, 16 Nov 1996 17:51:41 -0500 (EST)
From: Packrat <packrat@cybercomm.net>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: "tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at"
     <tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at>
Subject: ST: Chapter two.


Okay, there's only a hint of transformation going on right now, but now we
get closer to the more meatier sections of the story. Have patience, have
faith, and enjoy.

---------

Kindred Souls
by Packrat

Part the Second -- Clues
"The game is afoot" -- Sherlock Holmes

The skunk looked at Jim, hir tail swishing nervously.

"Listen," sie said, "I know I've done some things to upset you. I wish you
would tell me sooner rather than just clam up and hide your feelings from me.
I hate not knowing the truth about how you feel. And I hate to see you
hurting, especially when I'm involved. Whether you know it or not, or even
care about it, I still care for you."

Sie sighed. "For all that it's worth, I still love you."

The skunk stood there and waited, tail still swishing behind hir as sie
anxiously waited for a reply. Moments passed inside the firelit cave, the
silence only making hir even more agitated, and sie whimpered a little.

"Jim, are you there?"

Jim blinked out of his stupor and regarded the skunk, sighing. "Sorry, I'm
just one the other line as well."

The skunk's face went from a look of worry to one of confusion. "The other
line? What for?"

"I almost got hit today," Jim replied matter-of-factly.

With an audible meep, the skunk scurried over to Jim, holding him tight. A
look of worry registered in hir eyes, and hir tail returned to that nervous
swish. "You're okay though, right? Who nearly hit you?"

Jim nodded, giving Myr a brief recap of the events of the drive home from
Trenton today, starting with rejection at the newspaper there, to the rest
stop along the way, then to the near miss by a hummer as he prepared to make
the rest of the trip home, and finally to the A&P in Barnegat to pick up
things for dinner and a king sized Kit Kat to help calm down the nerves. It
was the same story that he told to Randi and Orel on seperate mucks, which
also earned him a few more hugs there. Typing the story was slow, but not as
slow as it seemed to register a complaint at Fort Dix. He had to call a few
times and spend several minutes on hold until he was given the proper
extension to dial in.

Once Jim did get through to the proper authorities, it was another minute's
wait while the secretary set the line up to record the complaint, at Jim's
request. From there Jim calmly explained what had happened and recommended
that some kind of right of way signaling be used the next time. No sense in
screaming at them, Jim thought. Stuff like that only served to make matters
worse. After finishing his business with the Army and hanging up the one
line, Jim turned his attention back to the monitor and the skunk being
played by the man with whom he'd just broken up.

"Look," Jim typed in, "I can't say that I agree with what you're doing on
the weekends. Playing someone else's pet is scary. I don't like the idea of
you being hurt by someone else, and... well, I feel like I'll be missing out
on some special moments."

That earned him a smile and a hug.

"But," Jim added, "I can't make you stop, either. Which is why I didn't
bother much with the protests."

Myr nodded and looked at Jim, still a bit worried. "Can we still be friends?
And maybe... work our way back to where we were?"

There was a moment of silence on the muck before Jim finally keyed in one
simple answer. "Okay."

After about a few minutes worth of online hugging, Jim told Myr that he was
going to head out for a while. He had planned on making a trip back to the
rest area and poke around the woods a bit, which Myr protested. Still, the
skunk had to admit this was one thing sie couldn't stop Jim from doing, so
sie gave him a hug and kiss goodbye, told him to be careful, and that sie'll
be back later that night. Passing the message on to other mucks, he got
similar replies from the others, although Orel was going to be busy with
schoolwork and most likely wouldn't be around. Ah well, Jim thought... two
out of three ain't bad...

* * *

"Lieutenant," Major Ekelman said in an almost too calm a tone. "I just got
off the phone with the boys at the motor pool. It seems the medical team
that was dispatched almost struck a civilian vehicle."

The Lieutenant blinked, though she continued to stand at attention. "Sir,
with all due respect, we had an injured soldier. It couldn't be helped."

The major swiveled in his chair, tapping his fingertips together. "Maybe it
couldn't, maybe it could. You all had weapons on you, and I know you're
trained to use them. I suppose you know about defending yourself?"

Delaney nearly looked at him in shock, but just kept her stance and
swallowed. Hard. "Yes, sir."

"Then I needn't remind you on what you can do to keep from being attacked by
any wild animals out in the woods?"

"No, sir."

"Good. Now about this request... You want to go back into the woods and
track down some unidentified animal to keep it from being a potential threat
to the citizens, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

The major gave her a withering glance. "And how do we know that the animal
isn't long gone by now? I had to pull strings to get eight men on this
mission, and I can't spare anyone else to go traipsing around the woods on
some hunting expedition. Your request is denied, Lieutenant. Now I suggest
you go get some rest so you can pick up on your assigned mission tomorrow.
Am I understood?"

Delaney growled with letting it be heard. "Yes, sir."

"Good. You're dismissed."

Delaney virtually fumed as she stepped out of the major's office on the way
to the infirmary. The bastard was more interested in finding out what kind of
energy source was out in the Pine Barrens than the safety of his own men and
local population. She saw how bad the wounds were, and if that... whatever it
was was still out there on the prowl, it presented a definite hazard.
Something needed to be done, but she had to make her own plans first. The
first step being to try and indentify what animal to a swipe at Grant. Which
meant seeing if Grant remembered what it was.

Delaney was surprised to find that Grant was still being kept under
surveillance. At first she thought the wounds had been so deep that he had
just been brought out major surgery, only to find out he needed just a few
stitches. Not only that, the wounds seemed to be healing even quicker than
anyone imagined. That seemed to be a pleasant surprise to Delaney, who had
asked to see Grant, and with a little coaxing was able to get some time. As
she approached the room where they kept Grant, she was a little shocked to
hear him moaning after she received the good news. It was then that the
doctor told her Grant seemed to be suffering from mild headaches and nausea.

"Some kind of disease?"

"I don't know," the doctor replied. "We ran a few tests on him but he came
out clean. Now you know why I didn't want anyone else showing up. We may have
missed something, and it could be contagious."

Delaney nodded. "Okay. I promise this won't take long. Besides, I'm looking
for information on what attacked him. Maybe we can stop the spread at the
source."

"Good, but at the first sign of anything wrong with you, I want you to come
back here immediately. Got it?"

Delaney nodded and stepped inside, keeping a distance between her and the
bed. "How are you doing, Grant?"

Grant looked up at Delaney. "Not too good, Lieutenant. I'm hurting all over."

"Grant," Delaney said, "listen to me. I need to know about what hit you back
there. Can you recall anything when you were attacked?"

"Hurts to think," he replied wearily. "It was big... Looked as... big as a
bear... it had... claws as sharp as knives... it was carrying... some kind
of... stone..."

Delaney nodded, making mental notes. "What did the stone look like?"

"It was bright... don't know much else... but the thing... had wings... We
clipped one..."

"Wings?" said Delaney quizzically. "You sure?"

Grant simply nodded and winced again, bringing a hand to his head. Delaney
could tell something was wrong, just by the way the fingers looked swollen,
and the fingernails were discolored. Another slight moan was all Delaney
needed to get herself out of the room and out of the infirmary. As she
wandered over to an outside payphone, she tried to fit all the pieces
together. The strange tracks, the sketchy description... it just didn't make
sense. It almost sounded like some kind of monster was out in the Pine
Barrens, and that couldn't be possible. Still, since she couldn't find out
anything concrete from Grant, it was time to find out something plaster from
the woods. And that required pulling a couple of strings.

"Hello, Kris?" Delaney said into the receiver. "It's Lynn. I need you to take
me for a drive..."

* * *

Jim was nervous as he pulled into the same rest area he had been to earlier
that day. The fact that it was late afternoon made him a little more on edge.
He wouldn't have much daylight with him, which meant the search would have
to be quick since he didn't have the foresight to grab a flashlight. After
locking the car up tight, he ran through his head the scenario of the hummer
blazing by. From where it was coming, it was entering the woods somewhere...
about...

Bingo. Jim spotted tire tracks in the dirt, still easy to see. He pushed
back his glasses, and looked around for the usual signs to be posted. Nothing
about private property, which was good. No signs about being army property,
which was better. Just a sign that read, "No Hunting". Jim knew right then
he'd have to be careful, because from his experience at the jobs he had held
he knew one thing for sure.

Nobody ever reads signs.

Jim followed along the trail left by the tires, moving rather quickly as he
kept in mind the amount of daylight that he had. It was hard to judge exactly
how far in the woods he'd would end up traveling, since the Pine Barrens were
anything but that. This area of the woods had some decent size trees, unlike
the scrub pines he knew that ran along either side of Route 72. And this had
to have been some kind of trail the hunters had created, considering that
there was a wide enough space for something like a hummer to squeeze through.

After what seemed like an hour's walk into the woods, Jim spotted some
knocked down branches, verifying the path the hummer took. It was a smaller
offshoot, and from the looks of the branches, the hummer must have plowed
through. I didn't get too far as he noticed where the treads sank further in,
indicating where the vehicle had braked.

***

"Uh oh," Kris said as she pulled in alongside a tan Oldsmobile at the rest
stop. "Looks like we have some company."

"I can handle it," Delaney said, quickly getting out of the car as her friend
popped open the hood. Delaney grabbed a bag, a few filled canteens, and a
rifle. Kris questioned the idea of bringing a rifle, but Delaney had assured
her that it was for their protection. Kris grabbed a flashlight, just in
case, and the two set off into the woods following the trail of the hummer.

"You think whoever else is here may be looking for what you're looking for?" Kris said, a bit worried.

Delaney adjusted her hold on the rifle. "For his or her sake, let's hope
not."

Kris' eyes went wide. "You're not going to shoot the guy, are you?"

"If it's a guy, and if he makes a pass at me, I might," Delaney said with a
slight smile. "Mainly, I'm bringing this in case something else decides to
attack."

"I don't know how you talked me into this," muttered Kris.

"Simple. You still owed me fifty bucks."

* * *

Jim sized up the scene, with a little apprehension. Something definitely was
not right here. There were some dark splotches around, and Jim noticed some
pieces of camoflage scattered about, some of them darkened with the same
color splotches. Blood. Somebody had been bleeding here, and bleeding pretty
badly. Which meant that the hummer must have been some kind of paramedics.
Jim liked things even worse as he moved about. There was an empty casing
nearby. Shots were fired. Looking around further, he spotted some tracks,
and nearly wet himself when he saw the size of those pawprints. Whatever was
here was huge, and most likely what did the attacking. And considering that
the attack couldn't have been too long ago, whatever did it could still be
nearby. He felt his throat tighten and his heart pounding as he realized the
possible fatal error he just made.

He had just turned around to make a mad dash back to the car when has saw two
women a few yards away, one of them leveling a rifle at him.

"Don't move," the riflewoman said.

"D-does fainting count?" Jim stammered.

"What the hell are you doing here?" the woman said.

"I was... looking for something," Jim replied hastily, still looking at the
barrel of the gun. "I wanted to see if... er, what happened here..."

Delaney seemed satisfied and lowered the rifle. "Fine. Now move it. There's
nothing to see."

Jim heaved a sigh of relief, lowering his hands, and shakily moving back down
the path. "Jeez... second time today I was almost killed."

Kris looked over. "What's that mean?"

Delaney brought the rifle up. "Yeah, I'd like to know too."

Jim paled as the rifle rose back up into lethal position. "Some Army truck
nearly plowed into me this afternoon."

Delaney blinked. "You...? Hold it. Don't you move. I want to have a word with
you. Lieutenant Lynn Delaney from Fort Dix. You are?"

"Jim," he said nervously. "Jim McCoy."

"Well, Mister McCoy..." she said sweetly. "What's going on here is unofficial
United States Army business that you wandered into. Now I'm no Hatfield, but
I'd be obligied to something else other than shoot you. Unless, perhaps you
do two things."

Jim nodded quickly. "Sure. Anything."

Delaney nodded with a smile. "Good. First thing is, you never saw the two of
us here. Or what the three of us are going to do."

Kris looked over at Delaney. "THREE of us?"

"Of course. Mister McCoy is going to help us with the plaster casts of those
tracks over there."

* * *

By the time the plaster had settled, so had Jim's nerves for the most part.
Not that his earlier reactions seemed wimpy or such, but one unarmed man
versus a solider with a rifle, woman or not-- well, acting sensible was the
obvious choice. Besides, after a little chatting, the lieutenant turned out
to be an okay person. She seemed a little impressed with Jim's knowledge
about plaster casts, to which Jim gave silent thanks for the time he spent
in the Boy Scouts.

When the casts were pulled up, Delaney whistled at the depth. "Whatever it
was, it was massive. And I still think those hoof prints are part of the
same set of tracks."

Kris noticed Jim's eyes widen a bit as well. "What's up?"

"I think I know what made these tracks," Jim said, still astonished.

"What?" Delaney said, setting her full attention on Jim.

"Tell me..." Jim said, working on regaining his composure. "How much do you
two know about the Jersey Devil?"


* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to Packrat <packrat@cybercomm.net> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
------ The discussion list for the Transformation Story Archive ---------
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From eglover@nemonet.com Wed Nov 20 12:31:31 1996
Date: Mon, 18 Nov 1996 15:55:31 -0000
From: Eddie Glover <eglover@nemonet.com>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Cc: eglover@nemonet.com
Subject: Blood Sword 2

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             Blood Sword 2

     Brenlan watched from the shadows as the men he'd been tracking
approached a lone woman. He'd long suspected that these men were
mercenaries, just the kind of scum he'd been looking for.
     The sword began to vibrate in his hand, letting him know that it
would soon be needing the blood he so often gave it. Should he fail to
appease the blade he would become a buxom woman of whorish looks. 
     "I have no quarrel with you.", the woman said as the mercs closed
about her.
     "Lady, with a body like that we don't want to quarrel, now be nice!",
one laughed.
     She drew a blade and held it lightly, daring the men to attack.
     "Oh my! The little lady has a sword!", another chuckled.
     Brenlan frowned, the idiots couldn't see that the woman knew exactly
what she was doing with the blade. Although she looked soft and curvaceous
he could see that the woman was a skilled swordswoman. In fact he'd seen
this style of fighting before, from the all-woman tribe that he'd claimed
his blade from.
     One man advanced upon the woman only to see her easily cut his hand
off! He screamed in pain and fell backwards as his friends attacked in
rage.
     "Thief!", a woman yelled from behind Brenlan.
     He spun to see ten women standing there, all wearing the animal skins
of the amazons.
     "You dare to use our holy blade....you! A man may not wield such a
treasure!", she snapped.
     "What about your sister, she's getting attacked by three armed men!",
he growled while bringing the blade up to defend himself....only to have
it burn his hand.
     "You sought to use the blade against a woman!?", the amazon laughed.
     She lashed out at him...only to see the blade leap up and deflect the
blow. Now it allowed him to use it against this woman.
     "How is this possible!? The blade can't fight a woman!", she
screamed.
     Brenlan smirked, "Apparently it can if attacked.".
     "Die!", she screamed. He sword hissed towards his head only to see
him roll aside and slash through her leg.
     The moment the woman's blood touched the sword he began to feel
strange, as if he were changing!
     He could feel breasts forming on his chest, his nipples swelling and
becoming far more sensitive. His ass plumped as hips flared wide. His arms
dwindled in strength even as his sex changed to female....but unlike the
normal change it didn't stop there.
     His breasts continued their growth, now straining his tunic to the
breaking point! His pants had ripped down the sides as his hips and ass
followed suit with his breasts. 
     "You fool! The Blood Sword may not spill female blood, it is cursed
to make whoever does so into a mindless sex slave!", she snapped.
     Brenlan shook her head in confusion as she felt her mind fog. She was
now very stupid yet remained male mentally....for a moment. 
     The wounded amazon grabbed the blade from her and grinned, "Now you
will be a fitting sacrifice, prepar her!", she snapped to her warriors.
     Brenlan meekly allowed the women to chain her to a stone slab after
stripping her clothes from her.
     "I sacrifice this woman, the former master of the blade! I ask that I
gain the power of the blade upon her death!", she called into the air. 
     The woman bent over Brenlan and picked a small dagger from her belt,
"Now I will kill you, a thrust between those huge breasts will do!", she
chortled.
     "But sister...", another woman said, "She is a woman now! We cannot
kill females!".
     "This!", she yelled while indicating the struggling Brenlan, "Is no
woman, merely a man rendered into his own fantasy!".
     "I forbid this!", the other amazon growled.
     When the leader turned from Brenlan she forgot that the sword was
still in the room. Brenlan had fought his new mindset and reached for the
blade with her mind.
     "The sword!", one of the amazons screamed, "It's flying to her!".
     Brenlan smirked as the blade landed in her hand. She felt herself
changing back to male form, and the shackles buckled then shattered. He
looked up to see the leader of the women screaming in rage and lashing
down with her dagger.
     "I killed dozens of your sisters when I found this sword
woman.....there is something about this curse that you haven't told me!",
he growled.
     "Kill him!", she screamed in hysteria.
     "No!", the other amazon snorted. "We have no quarrel with this man,
you merely wanted to steal the sword that our enemies created!".
     Brenlan could feel the sword in his hands....it's hunger still
unquenched. "It's the sword itself that determines if I can wound a woman!
If it's sated it doesn't matter, but if it seeks male blood and I draw
female blood it will turn me into a whore, mentally and physically!", he
realized.
     "That knowledge will not help you now! I am a woman and you dare not
attack me again!", she chortled while pulling her own blade.
     "I'm restored from the first change, perhaps because I only wounded
you lightly. But the sword drew your blood...so it has power over you
now!", he growled.
     The lead amazon began to change, her breasts dwindling back into her
chest even as her arms and legs swelled into massive muscles. Her face
grew a heavy beard even as hair grew on her chest. A man stood in her
shredded skin, a man armed with a blade.
     Brenlan slashed out, catching the man across the chest, not deep
enough to kill but enough to send the altered woman crashing to the ground
bleeding.
     The sword was sated, the male blood having been enough to keep it
quiet for a time. He put the blade in it's scabbard and looked back to see
the former woman sobbing at her male body.
     "Is this over, or should I use the sword on you?", Brenlan asked.
     "It is over.", the new leader said firmly.
     "No!!!", the new man screamed while attacking her former comrade. The
amazon drew her blade and killed her transformed former sister. She
dropped the sword as the man fell dead then began to cry.
     "I have had enough of killing.", she said with a sigh.
     "As have I.", Brenlan agreed, "I never meant to start this war, do I
trust that we will not fight again?", he asked.
     "Yes.", the woman said while shaking his hand firmly. 
     She led her women away, leaving Brenlan to clean his blade and look
at the dead man before him. After burying the former man he looked back
towards the city of his would-be lover. He had some time before the blade
would require blood again, time enough for him to see her once again.

   End--
  Eddie G.
           

* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to "Eddie Glover" <eglover@nemonet.com> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
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From eglover@nemonet.com Wed Nov 20 12:31:35 1996
Date: Mon, 18 Nov 1996 23:30:58 -0000
From: Eddie Glover <eglover@nemonet.com>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Cc: eglover@nemonet.com
Subject: Mythical 8 (chapters 13,14)

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Here's the newest chapter of Mythical--

 Mythical 8

     Chapter 14--The Other Victims

     Back in the world that Hadleyand the others called home, in his house
their bodies were standing about wondering what to do next. They had found
themselves trapped in these forms, in a world not their own.
     Mar groaned as the weak lad's body he inhabited. "What happened to
us!? I remember being with my lover then I woke up in this body!", he said
in confused tones.
     Nurth frowned, "Somehow our souls were exchanged with those who used
to be in these forms. I have only limited power since only my soul made
the swap. All of you who had magic will find you still have much weaker
powers. The soul contains a tiny portion of a body's magic you see.", he
icily said.
     Braxil shape-shifted Jimmy's body into an older man but seemed to be
in agony. 
     Turner's body housed Erlanee, the supple healer. She grumped in a
corner, "At least the rest of you are still your original sex! I am a boy
however....oh this is terrible!", she moaned.
     Rico's frame housed the archer Ferlain who was as close to his old
form as any of the others.
     Tom's body housed a barbarian named Glorn. He was currently lifting
weights in an attempt to make this new body stronger.
     Mar groaned, "At least the lad owned his own room. We can remain
together until we figure out a reversal!".
     Erlanee pleaded to Nurth, "You still possess enough power to alter me
into a woman Nurth!", she begged.
     The sorcerer frowned, "And when we return the lad who normally is
housed within that form will be a woman forever.", he pointed out.
     Erlanee snarled, "What do I care about him.....oh Gods!", she
suddenly realized something.
     Nurth retained some mental powers and he nodded at her revelation.
"Yes my dear the Earth lads are in our bodies. One of them is in your very
female form.", he sighed.
     The small bell-like device rang out again and Braxil picked it up. A
voice yelled from it, "Hadley! This is your boss! If you and those other
deadbeats Tom and Turner don't show up tonight you're fired!".
     Broxil put down the device as Nurth read his mind. "Some sort of
labor obviously.", the sorcerer said.
     Mar picked up a red uniform, "This tunic says something, somehow I
can read it..Damin's Pizza Palace.", he read to the others.
     Erlanee looked through the book of names they had found...something
called the Yellow Pages. "Here it is!", she cried, "It is on a place
called Main Street.", she giddily remarked.
     Nurth mused, "You three take that carriage we drove yesterday and
find this place. Our bodies must work there to make some sort of
currency.", he instructed.
     Braxil and Ferlain sat in their seats looking at him. "If you can
think of anything to say just speak up.", he grumped.
     Mar sped into town, enjoying the "car" and the great speeds at which
it traveled. They found a guide to this strange village and were soon
pulling into the workplace. They even remembered to wear their uniforms as
they entered.
     A chubby older man growled, "So nice of you to show after four days!
Go clock in and get to work, with you three gone I haven't had any
cooks!", he snarled.
     After a few hours they were able to make the pizzas without help and
wash dishes as well.
     Erlanee was just coming out of the freezer with some pepperoni when
girl plastered herself to Erlanee's male body. To her dismay the lad's
body reacted strongly, and his penis grew rigid.
     The girl grabbed the stiff member and smiled, "I knew you'd be ready
for tonight! I talked to your boss and convinced him to let you off
early!".
     Erlanee realized that she wanted this girl, rather the boy she was
did. so strongly that it hurt.
     "I'll go tell Ma.....Hadley and Tom.", she gulped.
     "Quit teasing!", the girl laughed, "Kim and Christy are in the car
waiting for them!". 
     She kissed Erlanee who hugged the woman tighter. "Whoa! You must be
really ready!", she breathed.
     The girl ran out as Erlanee changed clothes. Mar and Glorn were
smirking at the door.
     "First week here and already tasting female companions!", Glorn
laughed.
     "Oh Erlanee, yours is named Beverly. I found pictures of them in
Hadley's wallet!", Mar laughed.
     The healer sighed, "I used to be a woman! I don't want to.....but
this body is more than ready.", she grimaced.
     The three boys called Nurth and explained when they might return. Mar
and Glorn started pawing their girls on the road to the lake. Erlanee let
Beverly guide her to the lake where the girls doffed their clothes.
     Mar and his very buxom blonde lover went into the water while Glorn
and Kim just flopped into the sand.
     Erlanee pulled down her pants to reveal a fully erect penis. Beverly
pushed her down and straddled the male body the former healer wore. They
made love for hours, each forcing the other on. The former woman kissed
Beverly's pink nipples and grinned, some good had come out of this
situation.

     Chapter 14---Tultern's Night

     Tultern sat in the hotel room indicated by Verdoc watching
television. He was fascinated by this "football" he'd run across on the
magical viewer. Large men in protective gear trying to score points by
running with or throwing a small object called a football.
     Suddenly the door opened and Verdoc and Lintur pulled their chubby
victim in.
     "Hey! Who the fuck are you!?", the man yelled.
     Tultern waved and the fat man was suddenly a HUGE-breasted woman with
hair like a cape, but slim and curvy without any loss of height. The man
screamed as he touched his breasts then in panic he raced for the door but
Verdoc knocked her out with a blow to the head.
     "Should I strip her?", Lintur asked with a leer, obviously wanting
this woman to himself....herself.
     "Nay. A simple spell will alter his clothing to resemble a...what is
the word....a prostitute!", he laughed.
     The unconscious woman's male clothing shimmered and became a tight
leather dress with her underwear turning into a G-string. She now wore
make-up, knee-high boots, and fishnet stockings.
     "Put her in the closet, we'll take her somewhere tomorrow, oh don't
worry...she can't speak while under my spell.", he waved and the new
woman's voice was gone.
     "What ARE you watching?", Verdoc giggled while flopping down beside
him on the bed.
     "A television, some sort of information projector. It even gives the
events of this world and the weather for tomorrow!", he gasped.
     Verdoc smiled, "I KNOW what a television is master! I meant what were
you watching on it?".
     Tultern felt very foolish then realized that she knew this world far
better than he. 
     "This world has a different magic, yet such wonders cannot transform
others as I can.", he grinned.
     "Then transform us back to men!", Lintur smiled, apparently assuming
her master would do so.
     Tultern frowned, "No. We will need to make currency and as women you
both earn enough.", he scolded.
     Lintur pouted, "But I hate this body! My breasts always jiggle when I
move about and men always watch me with lust!", she cried.
     "There is power in such a body, men will react to you without reason.
You should not complain my dear, there is little men will not do for
you.", he smiled. "What of you Verdoc?", he asked.
     Verdoc grinned wickedly, "I have no wish to be transformed, this
female body intrigues me!", she giggled.
     Lintur seemed aghast at her companion's attitude and stormed to the
bathroom.
     Verdoc undressed slowly, making sure to allow Tultern a full view of
her luscious body. She got into bed beside him nude and grinned.
     The wizard was affected by her large breasts and beautiful form more
than he cared to admit.
     "Perhaps I should find other lodging.", he coughed.
     Verdoc cupper her breasts, "Or you can stay and get better
acquainted. I would not mind if you wish me to be your lover while I wear
this form!", she cooed. "And I can see that you want to.".
     Tultern started to move towards her, his erection straining his
pants. Then he turned and used his magic to phase out of a wall. He took a
moment to compose himself and began his exploration of the area.
     He soon found himself in a dark area unlit by the devices found
around this city. A man then clubbed him on the head with something and he
fell hard to the ground. The pain washed over him as two others kicked him
in the ribs.
     The gang members rolled him over and spied the horn he kept on his
belt. The man who'd ambushed him pulled it from his weak grasp.
     "What the hell is this!?", the youth snorted.
     "Unicorn.....horn.....give it back.", Tultern groaned.
     "Shut up!", the man howled then booted him in the face.
     "He was so easy I thought he'd be an old man!', the leader laughed.
     "Give me the horn.", Tultern groaned again.
     "Unicorn horn! So I put it on my head...", the man never finished his
sentence as when he pressed the horn to his head he'd become a real
unicorn.
     The stallion retained it's human mind and whinied pitifully at the
new form.
     "Holy shit!", a black youth who'd been involved in the attack yelled.
     Tultern rose painfully and realized the attack had damaged him
greatly. His left eye was swollen shut and his front teeth were gone. At
least six ribs were broken and internal bleeding caused him to spit up
blood.
     The gang youths were so amazed at their leader's change in species
that they didn't note their victim's recovery. Tultern had used his power
to heal himself and moved towards them.
     He froze them all in place and studied the unicorn. He plucked the
horn from it's head but the equine body remained. He smirked at the horse
and turned to the still frozen other gangers.
     "You are mere children and yet.....punishment must be severe.", he
frowned. 
     A wave and the two eighteen and one seventeen year olds began to
shrink. Their height diminished even as their muscles shrank and their
genitals went back to before puberty. They stood in their oversized
clothes, now reduced to five year old boys.
     "Perhaps growing up again will heal your spirits!", he laughed.
     The three little kids raced off in fear with their teenage minds
trapped in children's bodies.
     The sorcerer picked up the knife dropped by the man-turned-horse. His
wounds continued to heal further, now almost all gone.
     "Know this fool!", he told the horse, "I cannot reverse your change,
a horse you now are and will remain till death. I regret what happened but
it was you who provoked this conflict.
     Tultern sighed as he walked on, despite his plotting and use of the
Earth boys as bait he was not truly evil. He wanted Terold deposed back
home not to gain power but to stop that bastard's reign of terror.
     Terold was his equal in magic but was a paranoid and vicious ruler.
While Tultern himself was no saint he had long waited to topple the king.
     Prince Trax was a glory hound but would make a better ruler than his
older brother Benton.
     He now realized that his dream of taking power in this dimension was
not feasible. While his transforming powers were capable of great mischief
in this non-magical world they could not lead to total power. He
remembered speaking to his sometimes-enemy Nurth about the need to
control.
     Nurth was an excellent wizard but was far too concerned with others.
They had battled many times, especially once Nurth had joined Terold.
Tultern had warned the man about the king and his ravings but Nurth
believed him jealous. 
     He'd heard of the wizard's capture for some imagined treason and the
torture that followed but he knew better than to challenge.......Terold. 
     A thought blurred through Tultern's mind, with weaponry from this
world he could topple Terold if the Earth souls failed. Until such time as
then he would wander this world.

    End of 8--
   Eddie G.     


* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to "Eddie Glover" <eglover@nemonet.com> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
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From apearson@d.umn.edu Wed Nov 20 12:31:44 1996
Date: Tue, 19 Nov 1996 23:15:39 -0600 (CST)
From: arthur pearson <apearson@d.umn.edu>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: Flight 2


Flight 2
"Truth and Enigma"

	Ajax heard the slightest creek as his door opened. Fear becoming 
his body, he snapped around, crying "No! Get out!"
	It was his mom. Her face was a mask of shock. He knew then. He 
felt a piece of himself slip away. Nothing would ever be the same.
	Her mask cracked and molded back into motherly concern and love. 
"Ajax, what's the matter?" She began walking toward him, her comforting 
arms reaching for him.
	He looked. The wings were gone. His quick glance saw two slits in 
his back, running from his shoulder blades to his pajama bottoms.
	Then, as realization crept up and sat in his head, he was in his 
mother's arms. For a while he just stayed there, feeling like a stunned carp.
	"Everything's ok, honey. I've called the doctor. He's going to 
come and bring you some stronger sedatives so you can sleep. No more 
nightmares, I promise." When Ajax moved his arms and hugged her as tight 
as his 8 year old body could, she muttered silently to herself, "God, you 
must have gotten no sleep. What were you saying, Ajax? What were you 
afraid of, honey?"
	Just then his dad came into the room, holding his little brother, 
Ralph, who was just 3 months old. "What is it? I heard Ajax shout."
	"I'm fine." Ajax said suddenly.
	Kelly held herself away from her boy and searched his eyes. They 
didn't have any redness or bags of sleep, like they had the last week, 
every morning. They shone with vitality. . . yet with some sort of dark 
cloud she couldn't put a finger on. "Honey, are you sure? You still look 
a little tired." Or something, she thought to herself.
	"I'm ok, mom. Yeah, I am tired. I'd like to go back to bed." He 
pulled himself away from her and back under his covers.
	Handel shrugged and smiled at his son. "Good idea. You get some 
rest. Honey, I gotta go to work in about 5 minutes. Could you take the baby?"
	Kelly got up and walked over to Handel. By the time she picked up 
the baby and Handel had left, Ajax was in bed and his eyes were shut.
	"I love you Ajax," she said softly, and closed the door.
	He heard her steps quietly recede away, then waited a minute. He 
got up and pulled his grandfather's oak chair over to the door and wedged 
it under the handle.
	Although he felt like he was about to jump off a cliff, Ajax 
turned around defiantly and concentrated. Like a cock sliding out of its 
sheath, his wings grew out of his back and into the wall. He brought his 
wings into a more relaxed position.
	He felt the wings that were attached to his back. Every muscle, 
every shaft of feather, every shiver of adrenalin that shook up air 
currents in the room. He moved his left wing around in front of his body. 
When he gripped it, his wing felt it. He was touching his own wing, just 
like touching any other part of his own body. The feathers were short and 
downy along the base of the wing and grew to two other layers of shape 
and length. They were the color of a cloud on a clear day - a bluer shade 
of white.
	Then, he folded his wings against his back and concentrated. This 
time, he looked for the feeling, and felt them suck back into his back. 
He felt his naked back for any bulge - those wings were big enough to 
carry him in flight! However, there magically seemed to be no hump or 
anything back there to store his wings. Just the two slits.
	Curious, he wiggled a finger into one of the slits and pressed 
inward. He felt feathers, and felt his wing, and his wing felt his 
finger. Exploring further around the opening, he felt more wing, its 
muscles bunched up under the feathers.
	Finally, he left his back alone and sat down.
	Needless to say, for the first time in a month his back didn't 
ache in pain. He felt...
	He felt alive. He wanted to go out, to feel the breeze, to find a 
high place to look out from and spread his wings, to fly into the...
	Ajax forced himself to take his hand away from the chair. He was 
about to do just what he felt like. He was going to go right out and just 
fly at the first opportunity. His heart was still beating, he could still 
feel the rush of air around him. As a matter of fact, he really did feel 
air moving around him.
	Frowning, he forced his wings to retreat again into his back.
	All he did know was that he _wanted_ to fly, and that he didn't 
want anyone else to know about it. He walked to his window and thought 
long and hard.
	There was bright, warm sun streaming in. However, it was cold 
out. Ajax put his hand to the window and kept it there, chilling his palm 
as if he were touching ice and fogging up the window around his hand.
	His mouth pouting, he turned around and stalked around the room, 
angrily putting clothes on. "Gonna show that stupid weather. I'll fly no 
matter what." He went downstairs and was going toward the garage when he 
heard his mom in the next room. The kitchen. With the only door leading 
to the garage, where his bike was. He stopped moving and thought for a 
bit. Finally, he went to the front door. Very quietly, he opened it, 
stepped through, and closed it. From there, he went around to the back, 
where there was another door to the garage. He repeated the procedure on 
this door, and entered the garage. There, he located his bike, rolled it 
out the back, then around to the front, got on, and took off.
	The fall winds seeped into his coat and into his skin. Around him 
passed the world, the suburbs. Houses and naked trees and cars and piles 
of leaves. He pressed his small body into his bike and shoved the pedals 
down harder.
	Air rushed by him. The ground moved swift. The wind whipped into 
his eyes and past his little red cap. He squinted his eyes to stop them 
from watering, and three things happened.
	First, some sort of third clear lid slid up and covered his eyes. 
Second, he felt a tightness in his clothes as his wings pressed their way 
out. Thirdly, he realized where he was going.
	Pain distracted him, and he pulled his wings back into his body. 
He then looked forward into the wind, eyes squinting, instinctively 
keeping his third eyelids over his eyes like a pair of goggles.
	He knew he was going to the Milforer Mansion.

	Seven years later.

	The familiar sound of the Sega Saturn floated across the living 
room. Ajax was hunched over a controller, his eyes glued to the TV. The 
picture on the television was of a knight in armor, battling a dragon. A 
few swift pushes of the controller's buttons, and the hero sent forth a 
bolt of lightning from his sword. The dragon reared backward, its roar 
slightly distorted by the speakers. Unfazed, it spun around and hurled a 
mighty blast of fire. Furiously, Ajax wrenched the controller upwards as 
he pushed a button. The knight flies into the air with a mighty jump, but 
falls into a covered pit of spikes. The distinct sound of a despairing 
death cry blasted from the TV.
	"Jeez!" Ajax says as he threw down the controller in disgust. He 
stood, and then contemplated his shoes.
	His mother came in with flower caking her face and most of her 
cooking clothes. "Ajax. What would you suggest for Mrs. Bickinsworth's 
party? Chocolate chip? Oatmeal? Or maybe some chocolate peanuts."
	"Mrs. Bickinsworth likes peanut butter cookies. Her old friends 
like chocolate chip and oatmeal. They feed the chocolate peanuts to her 
dog. You know that, mom."
	"I suppose so." She shook her brown curly hair and a few dandruff 
flakes of flour floated lazily down. "You know me and my memory." Kelly 
patted her son on the shoulder and returned to the kitchen.
	Ajax's back felt achy. He seemed to pause for a bit, and then he 
went into the garage. His brother Ralf was coming in from bike riding. 
"Hi." said Ajax.
	"Hi." said Ralf.
	Ajax got out his year old, bright blue bike and pedaled out into 
the rich, end of summer air.

	The old Milforer house was just two miles away from his house. 
Ajax stuck his bike in his normal hiding place in the forest. He walked 
up to the house and regarded it. Its structure was five stories high, 
complete with an attic. It sat in the middle of a clearing whose smooth 
plane of grass was broken by two things: a long dead, evil looking tree 
and Ajax's worn path. The framework of the house was interesting. The 
logs were cut in such a way that when you laid them down, at the corners 
the whole framework would be reinforced. It was kind of a triangle-shape, 
but it was slanted differently toward the center. It's hard to explain.
	Well, however the wood is put, it didn't stop the state, thought 
Ajax. If you searched, you could find a "Condemned" sign on the front 
door, dated around 1953. Most of the windows were completely gone, but 
there were a few which still had razor-sharp teeth framing the gaping holes.
	He smiled to bolster his courage, then walked down his path.
	*click*
	Ajax whirled around, and looked accusingly into the windowless 
holes. A piece of ceiling fell to the floor with a clack.
	He slowly turned and continued up the trail. His back was killing him.

	Rex Topper, investigator and photographer for the monthly Sun, 
had been searching for ghouls in a haunted house out of some suburb of 
Minneapolis. He could almost feel the psychic twinges of the entities 
around him.
	"Or maybe it's those six tequilas I had the other night," Rex 
grumbled. He heard the steady crunch-crunch of gravel outside. After 
hefting his camera box onto his shoulders, he went to investigate. A boy 
was walking past. He had sandy tan hair and large, deep brown eyes. His 
clothing consisted of a white, billowy shirt rolled up at the sleeves and 
unbuttoned two buttons in the front, a brown leather vest, and blue 
jeans. Rex raised his camera to take a snapshot. The boy smiled.
	*click!*
	The boy immediately looked into the house. Rex retreated, and 
waited. Eventually, the kid moved cautiously on.
	The boy entered the forest behind the house, and Rex followed 
him. Rex soon came to a clearing, where the boy stood, his shirt and vest 
clutched in one hand. There, he paused. Rex waited, curious.
	Rex gasped, and instantly raised his camera to his eye, rapidly 
shooting pictures, angling the camera upwards. He tore the camera from 
his face frozen in amazement, and looked determinedly into the clearing. 
He entered, and found what he was looking for.
	Slowly spiraling down from the sky was a single, huge, beautiful 
sky blue feather which landed right in Rex Topper's harsh hand.



-- 
-The Intolerable Picklejuice  (apearson@d.umn.edu)
http://www.d.umn.edu/~apearson
"The mob is getting ugly--" "They had a head start!"
"The fun never stops with the fun factory! Hang on, Max!"
"Cheeze whizzorama, Sam-- that's neat!"
       -Sam and Max
* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to arthur pearson <apearson@d.umn.edu> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
------ The discussion list for the Transformation Story Archive ---------
WWW-List-Archive at:   http://www.t0.or.at/cgi-bin/thomash-lwgate/tsa-talk
for help write to:                               tsa-talk-request@t0.or.at
to get human help:                                       thomash@t0.or.at
From apearson@d.umn.edu Wed Nov 20 12:31:47 1996
Date: Tue, 19 Nov 1996 23:16:50 -0600 (CST)
From: arthur pearson <apearson@d.umn.edu>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: Flight 3

Flight 3
"Introducing the chase"

	Ajax was in the local supermarket. His mother was talking with 
the manager, trying to get him to let her buy directly from their 
supplier. He was looking at the magazines. Mad, Cracked, Rip, and other 
punk rock-like magazines, and finally the books and kid's stuff.
	He went to the counter to check out what they had in the tabloid newspapers.
	Two words stopped his heart. In bold letters on the Sun was the 
headline: "Winged Boy!" Underquote: amazing photos inside! Ajax grabbed 
the paper, and the more he read, the lower his stomach dropped.
	"Hey, Ajax."
	"What!" yipped Ajax.
	"You gonna pay for that trash?" It was his old baby sitter, Ruth Wicquit.
	"Yeah. Here."
	He paid for the paper and candy bar and walked to the car.

	Surprisingly, only two people joked to Ajax about the article. He 
did his best to laugh with them.
	It was three days after he himself saw the article when, after 
biking to his house from school, he noticed the odd Lincoln in his 
driveway. It had spots and big patches of rust stuck on its dark green 
exterior. As he was pushing his bike to the garage, he passed one of the 
open windows on the car and smelled old cigarettes. He looked into the 
car and saw a bunch of blank mini tape recorder tapes, a pair of 
binoculars, a heck of a lot of empty 35mm camera film canisters, and...
	A copy of the Sun.
	His mind shut down. ThatÕs all he could explain it as afterward. 
He kept pushing his bike as he walked to the front door. He let it drop 
and went to open the door. The door hit his hand as it opened up and out 
came a man that smelled of old cigarettes.
	He was oily-looking, slicked jet black hair, white complexion, 
and his eyes seemed to have more white than regular people. He had on a 
brown jacket and slacks, and a white shirt. A camera box hung around his 
shoulders, and he had a grin that reminded you of Gomez Addams after he 
complimented his wife Mortitia on her beautiful flower-clipped black roses.
	Ajax stood dumbfounded, pain in his hand barely registering.
	"Well, hey, here he is!" Rex smiled and looked back into the 
house, where his parents quickly came forward, looks of annoyance on 
their faces.
	"Mr. Topper, if you donÕt mind, weÕd like you to leave our house. 
Ajax has never been to the Milforer Mansion," stated his mother.
	Rex widened his eyes and grinned. His teeth were off-white, Ajax 
noted. "Oh, but he has! I _know_ he has." He turned to look down at Ajax. 
"IÕd recognize him anywhere." If it was possible, RexÕs smile widened, eager.
	Ajax decided not to take any more. He spun around and jumped down 
the steps up to his door. He was swinging a leg over his bike when he 
heard Rex's voice behind him yell, "Hey, kid! I just want to talk with 
you!" With a lunge up in the air and hard down on his pedals, he sped off 
down the street.
	Rex Topper leapt down the steps now, and toward his car. Kelly 
urged, "Handel, letÕs get to the car."
	Handel just sighed and said, "HeÕll be back tonight," and went 
back into the house.
	Kelly just looked with concern out of the house at her son as he 
disappeared around the corner.
	AjaxÕs mind was drowning in a sea of terror. How could this 
happen? Did this guy research him? Well, he WAS a reporter...
	The roar of an engine attacked him, and he knew Rex was moving 
his rusted Lincoln out of the driveway. Ajax flew onto a dirt road in 
between some houses to the left. He crashed through a neighbor's yard and 
back onto pavement. 3rd street loomed ahead, and he pedaled hard. 3rd 
lead into what passed for the country around here. A red truck trundled 
by him on his left, and he caught it. It stopped at 3rd, and hung a 
right. Ajax tried hanging on with one hand and steering with the other. 
The bike wobbled dangerously, and was almost caught under a tire, but he 
just managed to right it.
	3rd slowly turned into a road out of suburbia. Gusts of spring 
wind made Ajax's hair dance around his face.  He clutched the rusty 
corner of the shuddering truck as he took a quick look behind. Two quick 
looks later, he saw Rex speed into sight. Behind the wheel of the old 
car, RexÕs eyes seemed red-rimmed and they cut through his windshield 
into Ajax. Cursing silently, Ajax worked his way up the right side of the 
truck, and eventually came to the window. To his frustration, his back 
felt achy.
	He looked in and the old guy at the wheel took no notice. Ajax 
finally spoke up when Rex was getting really close to the back of the 
truck. "You're going to slow, pops," Ajax commented.
	Just as the guy turned to look at him, Ajax smiled and ducked. 
The red mausoleum screeched to a stop, Rex's car rear-ending it. Ajax 
shot off down the road toward a bridge. He chanced a look behind him, and 
saw that the formerly long green car was puttering out of the wreck.
	Turning his head back, Ajax saw he was headed straight for the 
edge of the road. He tried to ease the whipping wheel away from the edge. 
He was going at least 40 miles an hour. His heart was break dancing as he 
hit dirt and his bike slowed down fast. The front wheel hit smack dab 
into a big rock, and the bike bucked hard. Ajax was thrown high into the 
air. For a moment, there were no stresses on his body save for the 
rushing wind. It took quite a bit of concentration to resist temptation. 
He briefly regarded his stability, suspended midair, versus the 
frantically flying and spinning world around him.
	Ajax next hit icy water, and plunged straight to the bottom. 
After getting his bearings, he kicked to the surface and gasped air. He 
looked around, and was just in time to see his beautiful bike tumble and 
sink into the river. He frowned, and dived deeper to avoid Rex's gaze. He 
came up, and saw Rex was climbing down the side of the road to the grove 
beside the river. Ajax kicked his way to the other side, and climbed up. 
He quickly made himself scarce in the underbrush and trees, and made his 
way to a trail he knew. He found it, and followed it.
	Ajax, gasping for breath, headed for the spacious estate of the Willcoxes.

	Yanze Willcox is a unique individual. In school, he usually wears 
all black and his tan brown hair is perfectly combed. When speaking in 
front of the class, you'd believe he was reading off of a script. His 
school work is neat, efficient, and mostly perfect.
	There were rumors about Yanze. Ajax heard once that when he was 
little, he lived somewhere in Chicago. There, he was part of a gang and 
learned how to fight. Some people said that Yanze robbed and killed 
people. Yanze never talked much, and was always extremely serious about 
his homework. The teachers all had their opinions about him; some hated 
him, some were intrigued by him, and few wanted to pry.
	One day, Chad, Moe, and Eekie decided theyÕd go see just how 
tough Yanze was. Chad gave Yanze a nice bruise on his chest and a lump on 
his head, and Moe managed to land a black eye. Yanze came out the victor, 
and apologized to their groaning forms.
	Ajax and Yanze became friends a couple years back, after they 
both won a prize at the local 4-H fair in the photography contest.

	Ajax was making his way to Yanze's house. He went to the door, 
found it locked, and searched in the bushes. He found a rock there with a 
key under it. When he unlocked it, he put the key back.
	Inside, he locked the door. The house was spacious. Ajax examined 
a few art objects that sat on display here and there as he climbed the 
sloping staircase up. Yanze told Ajax that yes, indeed, he had lived in 
Chicago in one of the rougher neighborhoods. His father knew karate and 
taught him, off and on. His father and mother came from a wealthy family, 
but when his father was 18, they cut him off. He had to make it in the 
world by himself, and hated his father for his indifference. The 
Willcoxes were scraping by barely, until Yanze's father managed to get 
his act together and set up the local Subway subs & sandwiches shop.
	Yanze's room was at the top of the stairs to the right, and 
housed many of Yanze's most prized possessions. His computers, a few 
trophies, a bunch of books, some games, a model of his old metal boat 
(which, unfortunately, was poorly designed and sank to the very bottom of 
a nearby lake), and a picture of his model railroad landscape down in the 
basement.
	Ajax glanced at these things, and was beginning to enter the room 
when Yanze thrust his head from inside the closet, a sweater half on, his 
hair in disarray.
	"Hmm," Yanze said.
	Surprised, Ajax asked, "Why aren't you at softball practice?"
	Yanze looked meaningfully at Ajax.
	"Ah. I, uh."
	"Hmm," he said again. His head disappeared, and his muffled voice 
drifted back from inside the closet. "Got into a wee bit of a scuffle 
with some guy riding a horse. Missed my ride. You?"
	"Well," Ajax scratched the back of his neck. "I, ah..."
	"You said that before." Yanze strode out, his hair combed back, 
his blue jeans and black t-shirt on, and a pair of Reeboks in his hands. 
As he was putting them on, he said, "Some jerk pick a fight? Hmm? Ruffle 
your feathers, eh?" Yanze thought a bit. "Hmm,"
	"You said that before."
	"And I'll say it again."
	"OK. All right. I'll tell you, OK? Well, this reporter guy came 
to my house, you see. He's... well, He... Ah."
	"He's Rex Topper." said Yanze tonelessly.
	"What?"
	Yanze raised his eyebrow at Ajax. "Winged boy story?"
	Ajax paled.
	The older boy waved a hand confidently at Ajax and smiled. "Don't 
worry. I've got it all planned out. You're coming with me. We'll be 
taking the two bikes in the garage. We'll go to your uncle's house. You 
always said he was more understanding than your father."
	"How. Did. When. You?"
	"Remember that picture of a spider web that won that award in 
4-H? The one that went all the way to state and on to New York? Took it 
in the old Milforer mansion."
	Ajax sat down. "I see."
	Yanze stood in front of Ajax. "They're beautiful," said Yanze. He 
sat down next to Ajax.
	"All this time. Ever since I was a kid, I had 'em."
	Yanze waited, then said, "Tell me on the way."



-- 
-The Intolerable Picklejuice  (apearson@d.umn.edu)
http://www.d.umn.edu/~apearson
"The mob is getting ugly--" "They had a head start!"
"The fun never stops with the fun factory! Hang on, Max!"
"Cheeze whizzorama, Sam-- that's neat!"
       -Sam and Max
* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to arthur pearson <apearson@d.umn.edu> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
------ The discussion list for the Transformation Story Archive ---------
WWW-List-Archive at:   http://www.t0.or.at/cgi-bin/thomash-lwgate/tsa-talk
for help write to:                               tsa-talk-request@t0.or.at
to get human help:                                       thomash@t0.or.at
From apearson@d.umn.edu Wed Nov 20 12:31:49 1996
Date: Tue, 19 Nov 1996 23:18:01 -0600 (CST)
From: arthur pearson <apearson@d.umn.edu>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: Flight 4


Flight 4
"To know him..."

	When Rex Topper was a kid, he liked to tease other kids. He made 
it a habit of collecting bugs. He liked running. Rex Topper was an 
average boy, and he was mostly happy.
	He went to college, minored in reporting and canoeing, majored in 
Ecological Science, and found a girlfriend.
	Rex bummed around a couple jobs, his girlfriend Maggie Talor 
supplying most of the money from her photographing career, and he 
eventually went into reporting. He found that a real job in journalism 
was what he liked to do the most. Rex and Maggie would sometimes go out 
on stories, Maggie taking pictures, Rex asking questions.
	Eventually they stumbled into that warehouse where two groups of 
shady-looking individuals parked their expensive cars and went inside. 
Rex and Maggie had found a back way in, and started taking photographs 
from a hidden place. A thug saw them, and opened fire. Maggie was shot 
and killed, Rex shot in the left upper chest and put into a coma. When he 
came out, he found that his only reason for living was gone.
	He was devastated. After the funeral and paying his respects to 
Maggie's parents, he wound up spending all his time in his apartment, 
staring blankly into the TV. It would be months before he'd run out of 
money, but the way he felt, he wasn't sure his heart could last that long.
	Watching TV, he had slipped off into sleep after having one too 
many. A shadowy figure with piercing eyes, and black trench coat, 
complete with face-hiding hat suddenly was in front of him.
	Slowly, Rex's eyes opened.
	He leapt backwards, trying to go right through his chair. He 
ended up upside-down behind it. He cried an obscenity and popped his head 
up. The guy was still there, arms crossed and looking piercingly at him.
	"The Key." was shouted at him. His head pulsed from a growing headache.
	"What key?" cried Rex. The guy advanced on him, and Rex tried to 
scramble backward, but the guy's vice-like hand had him by the shirt.
	"Get it." the guy said, and lifted all 220 pounds of him into the 
air, leaving a look of terror on Rex's face and his feet flailing. "St. 
Demenes's Church. 49th st. The Priest's desk."
	It let him go.
	He got up, and the guy was gone.
	Well, he didn't do it. The next night, the guy was back, and he 
came to him.
	"The Key."
	"Go away!" Rex pulled out a gun.
	It neatly sidestepped Rex and grabbed the gun out of his hand. He 
took it and aimed it at Rex.
	"Hey! Wait!"
	It was too late. The guy shot him in the chest. Pain overwhelmed 
Rex, but he didn't die. Trench coat fluttering, the tall figure placed a 
kick that landed Rex, then planted the boot in his crotch. The man fired 
its last rounds into Rex's chest. A gloved hand lifted Rex's amazingly 
lively body. "Now, you're mine," came the grating, Dirty Harry voice.

	When Rex woke, he wasn't himself. His eyes opened, and he managed 
to get up onto all fours, but his back seemed to be stiffened, so he 
could not stand up. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision. For 
some reason, he only saw black & white. He walked over to the telephone, 
and reached up to pull it off.
	His hand was a paw. He opened his mouth, and tried to scream, but 
all that came out was an inhuman wine.
	The guy was back.
	"I said that you were mine. Now you do what I do, because you are 
mine. Get the Key. St. Demenes's Church. 49th st. The Priest's desk. Give 
it to me."
	What was left of Rex whimpered and crouched. The booted guy in 
the trench coat glided over, and the cowering thing howled strangely at 
him, as if trying to say something. The coat enveloped the thing for a 
second, and then Rex was alone, in his house, back to normal.
	A smile cracked his face as his eyes scanned his pink palm. Rex 
started to get up, and turned his hand over. The backs of his hands were 
covered in light fur.
	He had to get some police on the scene now. They didn't believe 
him on the phone.

	Down at the police station, they still didn't believe him. He 
waved his furry fingers in an officer's face. "What the heck is this, then?!"
	"A hand!" said the boy in blue. He swapped away Rex's hand.
	A great strength came over Rex, and his voice dropped a couple 
octaves. He barely noticed that he had just lifted the officer in front 
of him off the floor with his left arm. "A guy came to my place, demanded 
some damned key, turned me into a thing, and left me with furry hands. 
Tell me you're going to do---"
	He paused, because somebody destroyed a chair using his back. 
"Tell me you're going to do something about it."
	The strength ebbed suddenly from his left arm, and it wasn't 
because the guy in his now weak grasp got in a good kick.
	The bang finally reached his ears. He realized that someone shot 
a gun. People were clearing away from him in the office.
	Another shot rang out and grazed Rex's face. He barely flinched. 
He just stared, and snarled.
	Something snapped. Rex crouched, then sprang to the gunman. He 
struggled with the man a bit, then loped away through a window.
	"Eep." He forgot he was on the fifth floor. The fire escape of 
the next building shot up toward him, and he snagged that with a thickly 
furred hand. Clamoring up, Rex felt another ebbing of strength, and a 
small bit of dizziness. He shook his head, and climbed his way upon the 
escape and into the window. Shots from the window twipped into the window 
and clunked into the brick wall. He dodged them easily enough, and found 
the room empty, save for a neat boom box. He grabbed this, and proceeded 
to open the locks on the door with his hairy hand.
	In passing, he noticed that his clothes seemed loose. He put it 
out of his mind and proceeded into the hallway, heart beating and brow 
sweating. He heard noise from below as he neared the stairs, and decided 
up was the best choice.
	The roof was a hard climb, as the floor marker said 30 by the 
time he got there. The door wasn't open, but he put a few well- placed 
kicks, and it decided to give. There was a policeman coming up the fire 
escape. Rex rushed the other way, were there was a taller building. He 
ran for it. Again, it didn't click in Rex until he was dodging bullets 
and flying through the air that he had made a mistake.
	A couple seconds passed before he hit something, and during that 
time a bunch of things happened.
	Rex got shot again, this time in the chest. It should have 
collapsed a lung and cause excruciating pain.
	It didn't.
	He realized that his shot left arm hadn't registered any pain.
	He realized it didn't register pain even when he used it to snag 
that escape that was speeding by him at over 40 mph, and then when it 
supported his entire weight.
	He realized that, back in the station, he had RIPPED THE THROAT 
OUT OF THAT OFFICER WITH HIS TEETH.
	He realized he was going to hit a window.
	The boom box fell, forgotten, into the street below, as Rex went 
through. He landed on all fours at a run. He didn't stop running until he 
was outside in the street, a motorcycle-sized, fierce looking wolf. The 
sights and smells of the city teased him, and he didn't like being 
teased. He ran as far away as he could. Later, he came to his senses 
under a garbage can lid in some back alley.

	Rex Topper pulled his tan news reporter's trench coat over his 
shoulders nervously in front of the church. Quickly, he made a plan. A 
stupid plan, but he didn't want to take the time to think up another.
	He entered the place, and asked to be shown into the priest's 
office. They quietly complied, and he was shown inside. The priest was 
there. "I'm here to speak to you about whether or not your church is the 
kind of church my organization is looking to promote." said Rex.
	"What organization is that?" asked the priest.
	"It is a cookie-baking center. We believe that a strong religious 
background would help us. Now. We must look at your financial records."
	"Of course," said the priest. He exited the room. Rex leapt up 
and zoomed around to the desk and hauled on every drawer. Only one was 
locked. He growled, and nearly tore it open. Instead, he calmly forced 
himself to use the steel letter opener to force it. Inside was a box and 
a few papers. He took the box, and looked under the papers. The key must 
be in the box. He took the box and quickly left the room.
	He walked home. The sky was darkening. He looked up and regarded 
the full moon. He looked at his hands, then the moon. "I thought I was a 
werewolf. Hmpf. Maybe it's gibbous."
	In his house, the opened the box. Inside was an ornate key.
	Finally, he breathed a sigh of relief. When he opened his eyes, 
the guy was there.
	Rex cried out in horror, fell to the ground, and threw the key at 
the dark man. The man deftly caught it, and said, "Here is your reward."
	His back on the ground, Rex propped himself up on his elbows and 
looked at the man. The guy seemed amused. He reached up to his hat, and 
took it off.
	Rex saw for the first time the man who owned his soul. His elbows 
gave way beneath him as his face crunched up in horror and he began to 
scream.

	Much later, when he came to, his hands were the same. "NO! I 
don't want this!" He clenched his fists and got up. The window was open, 
and he stuck his head into the night. "What's the gift?"
	Rex felt something in his hands. He saw gloves. He sat down, 
laughed, then cried.



-- 
-The Intolerable Picklejuice  (apearson@d.umn.edu)
http://www.d.umn.edu/~apearson
"The mob is getting ugly--" "They had a head start!"
"The fun never stops with the fun factory! Hang on, Max!"
"Cheeze whizzorama, Sam-- that's neat!"
       -Sam and Max
* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to arthur pearson <apearson@d.umn.edu> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
------ The discussion list for the Transformation Story Archive ---------
WWW-List-Archive at:   http://www.t0.or.at/cgi-bin/thomash-lwgate/tsa-talk
for help write to:                               tsa-talk-request@t0.or.at
to get human help:                                       thomash@t0.or.at
From apearson@d.umn.edu Wed Nov 20 12:31:51 1996
Date: Tue, 19 Nov 1996 23:19:03 -0600 (CST)
From: arthur pearson <apearson@d.umn.edu>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: Flight 5

Flight 5
"Second wind"

	The initiation was that, if Ajax could stay in the Milforer 
Mansion for an entire night, he would be let into the club. He accepted, 
as he knew ghosts did not exist. His dad told him so.
	A board had fallen off the row of boards barring the door shut. 
Ajax squeezed through the hole, bringing his backpack and flashlight in. 
He was reminded of every ghost story that started out just like this. The 
guys who wanted in on the group had to stay in the spooky old mansion 
that turned out to have real ghosts in it. Ghosts that killed.
	The house was empty and dark. He just kept going until he found a 
place that he didn't feel too scared in. That turned out to be the fifth 
floor. He rolled out his sleeping bag and ate an apple from his backpack. 
Then, he went to sleep.
	It was around two in the morning when he heard a noise. He got 
up, and reached for his flashlight. In its place was a stick. He dropped 
it, and began to shake. He now had nothing to fight the dark. He could 
barely see, the light of the stars coming in from the window at the end 
of the hallway.
	Those guys are in here someplace, he thought, and they're gonna 
try and scare me. They came in here and took my flashlight because they 
know I'll be scared without it.
	Suddenly a ghost was floating down the corridor at him.
	Ajax threw a crusty book at the sheet, and the guy fell down and 
into hismelf as Ajax spun around. He rushed up to the window and looked 
beyond its glass shards. Outside, there were a couple boys from the club.
	He noticed that they were not going into the house. In fact, as 
he watched them disappear into the grove, they seemed to be a bit nervous.
	Hmm. They... They... seemed to be screaming. Running in fright of 
something that was in the house. Screaming something about frickin' real 
ghosts.
	Ajax slowly turned around. Nobody there.
	He felt like a cat trying to find a way out of a dog pound. As he 
ran for the stairs going down, his lips curled away from his clenched teeth.
	When he got to the top of the stair, he saw that there was a 
spirit below him at the foot of the stairs. It did not move closer, but 
the white cloth that moved around it seemed to be under water: hazy, 
indistinct, and moving in that uncaring way.
	His body shook. Out of his mouth puked a sound of primal fear. 
Shaking like he just got off the Rock-O-Plane after eating one too many 
imitation corn dogs, Ajax's mind did a lap around his skull in confusion 
and gasped instructions to run down the hallway. At the end of the 
hallway was a window. All he felt was fear and all he saw was a way out. 
It was only when he was completely suspended in air that he saw what he 
was doing.
	There, for a moment, time stopped. Ajax hung suspended in midair, 
a couple shards of glass framing his out flung body. The boys in the 
forest were out of sight by then, the old Milforer house looming silently 
and darkly behind them. Then, when time resumed, it happened.
	Ajax became a whirl of clothes, books, and feathers. When things 
righted themselves, Ajax was hanging in midair, a pair of incredibly 
beautiful sky blue wings relentlessly beating at the air, gracefully 
arcing back and forth, back and forth.
	Still in shock, he didn't notice that the ground was sneaking up 
on him. It mercilessly decided to spring forth. Ajax once more was 
earthbound. It seemed as if earth's gravity had been notched up a few 
tons. Ajax's arms were limp, his shirt in shreds, and he could hardly 
move. The book that he threw at the ghost fell next to him in the cool 
night grass. Ajax regarded it, the side of his face smushed into the 
ground. It reminded him of the house.
	With that, Ajax decided that his body wasn't tired. He leapt up 
and ran.
	I should be dead. I jumped out of the attic of a three-story 
house, and landed on the ground. I am not dead. I have wings... !
	To emphasize this, a feather brushed Ajax's arm.
	He felt like the adrenalin that coursed through his body had 
already visited someone else before getting to him. Someone who'd run a 
marathon or something. His arms and legs obeyed him, but didn't like it. 
Ajax entered the woods, not directly following the boys.
	In many ways, the forest was as inviting as the house. He could 
hardly see, the hungry claws of the trees around him tried to kill him, 
and the wild wind shook his soul like a snow-globe.
	Finally, he found a clearing and slowed down. Cool grass met his 
bottom as he sat down.
	"Whatamigonnado? Hoo. Ah. Hah. Hmm." Ajax gulped. He slowly 
turned his head around to the right, and thrust out his left hand, 
grabbing the right wing, and stroked it. "Haa. It's there."
	I'd make the best angel in the ground come winter. Stop that!
	Well, maybe if I concentrated.
	Ajax's jumbled thoughts were tough to push aside. He managed it 
only after resting for over 30 minutes. The wings... The wings...
	Slowly, resentfully, the large wonders shrank and bent their way 
magically into the boy's shoulders.
	When he opened his eyes, he felt his back. They were gone. He 
gathered up his things, and examined his shirt. Tattered terribly. Only 
the front remained, the rest shreds. He went home.
	His parents were shocked, angry, and happy he didn't get hurt.

	"So, after that, every few weeks or so my shoulders would feel 
achy. If I didn't fly around a bit, I'd feel tired and bad."
	Ajax and Yanze were sitting at the table, eating PBJs and milk. 
"I tried staying earthbound once right after, 'cause I was scared. I got 
sicker and sicker and had to stay in bed. My back was killing me. My 
wings just suddenly opened up while I was in bed. That's when I decided 
to fly from the Milforer Mansion. It seemed right."
	Yanze munched thoughtfully on a bite and washed it down before he 
said, "From your story, it seems that magic is involved."
	He paused. "Magic but I won't rule out genetics."
	Ajax looked questioningly at Yanze. "What are you thinking about?"
	"I just wonder." dreamily said Yanze.

	Kelly Krugan went to the front door and opened it. "Rex Topper."
	"Yes, ma'm." He started, and looked up at her. "Ah, can I come in?"
	"Ajax hasn't come home yet." There was something in her tone that 
made Rex feel unwelcome.
	Ralf scampered up. "Hey, is it Tommy? Oh." He looked up at the reporter.
	The oily man leaned down. "Hi there, little guy. I'm Rex Topper. 
Ever hear of me?"
	"No." Ralf said it as if Rex had asked him weather he'd ever seen 
a dog poop. He walked away.
	He frowned and stood up. Deciding something, Kelly turned away 
from him and motioned him into the kitchen. She put her oven mittens back 
on and went to take a rack of cookies out of the oven. "All right, Mr. 
Topper, what do you want to know?"
	The kitchen was just covered in baking paraphernalia and product. 
Cookies, cookie tins, muffins, pans, racks, cookie cutters, everything. 
Rex Pulled out what seemed to be the only free chair, looked at the 
newspapers on it, and decided not to sit down. 
	"Do you know where he is?"
	She shrugged. "No. Handel doesn't pay all that much attention to 
him or Ralf. He's missed baseball games, spelling b's, plays, solos, you 
name it. Ajax doesn't stand for it and just... takes off for a couple days."
	"Hmm."
	Kelly continued with her work, placing sticky dabs of cookie 
dough on another greased rack. "Have you told the police?"
	"No. No reason to. They know he's done this before and besides," 
Kelly said, sliding cookies off a cookie sheet and into a container. 
"He'll be back."
	"Have you checked with his friends or relatives?"
	"None of his friends have seen him. Only," She stopped her work.
	Rex cocked his head to one side. "Yes?"
	"Yanze Wilcox. Mary said that he took off about the same time as 
Ajax. They were both supposed to go to softball practice."
	Rex scribbled down some notes. Kelly shrugged and went back to 
work. "Maybe that Yanze will be able to pound some sense into him. Ajax 
really looks up to him."
	Rex shot his head up from his notes. The thought a bit, leaned 
against a cupboard, and said, "So you'd say that Ajax would trust Yanze?"
	"Sure. They're friends."
	"Could you give me a list of relatives in the area, say, within 
100 miles?"
	"Well, there's his uncle Greg Krugan in Brainerd, and Emily, his 
grandmother, is there, too. All my relatives are in Arizona. Ah, I think 
Greg's son William is in Egan. That's it."
	Rex finished writing. "Thank you, ma'm. You've helped a lot. Oh. 
Here's my number should you think of anything else." He gave her a card. 
"Anything at all concerning him."
	He left the house and said to himself, "Whew!" They didn't seem 
too concerned at all about Ajax. Rex seemed to be more concerned than 
they did. Either they're harboring him in the basement someplace or Ajax 
wouldn't confide in them if his life depended on it.
	Rex went around the house, found a cellar door. He looked at the 
windows, whose curtains were drawn. They were hiding him, they'd  be 
watching me close. He opened the cellar door and went in.
	The heavy basement cool hit him and sat on his clothes. The old 
door to the basement proper was a joke. He gave it a good shove, and it 
swung open, splintering wood and scraping loudly against the cement 
floor. He paused for a second, listening above. He hoped that he was 
right about small town people. He looked around, found nothing, shrugged, 
and left, closing the doors.
	Hmm... Better try that cousin first. Closer to his age, only 20 
miles away.



-- 
-The Intolerable Picklejuice  (apearson@d.umn.edu)
http://www.d.umn.edu/~apearson
"The mob is getting ugly--" "They had a head start!"
"The fun never stops with the fun factory! Hang on, Max!"
"Cheeze whizzorama, Sam-- that's neat!"
       -Sam and Max
* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to arthur pearson <apearson@d.umn.edu> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
------ The discussion list for the Transformation Story Archive ---------
WWW-List-Archive at:   http://www.t0.or.at/cgi-bin/thomash-lwgate/tsa-talk
for help write to:                               tsa-talk-request@t0.or.at
to get human help:                                       thomash@t0.or.at
From apearson@d.umn.edu Wed Nov 20 12:31:53 1996
Date: Tue, 19 Nov 1996 23:20:00 -0600 (CST)
From: arthur pearson <apearson@d.umn.edu>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: Flight 6


Flight 6
"Getting wind of his roots"

	The strangely comfortable September air brought cascades of 
leaves in swirls around the boys as their bikes swished through the 
streets of Brainerd. Ajax pointed, and they the two boys turned into the 
driveway. They dismounted their trusty steeds and hobbled them before 
approaching the door.
	"Rex Topper may have contacted him somehow and persuaded him to 
be ready for us. I think I should go in first, and explain our situation 
to him. Then, you'd come in with your wings unfurled. That'd probably 
prevent him from abducting us."
	Ajax thought, and said, "Go for it."
	Before they could execute their brilliant plan, the door opened, 
and there was Greg Krugan.
	"Hi, Ajax, Yanze." He was smiling and hauling some garbage. He 
moved past them, saying, "What brings you two here?"
	Yanze shrugged. "We have something very pressing to talk with you about."
	Greg put the garbage into the trash can and said, "Let's go into 
my office. We'll have privacy there."

	Greg Krugan was a jolly man, and an outgoing person. He was 
loving, kind, affectionate, and most of all, he liked kids. He and his 
wife, Betty, raised 4 children. The eldest is a jock who is going into 
the Navy, and his sister is the brain. She is graduating this school 
year, and planning to go to college to get her P.H.D.. The next youngest 
is 13, and she is the wild one. She loves heavy metal rock groups, and 
thinks Sting is easy listening. The guys she hangs out dress like the 
Grateful Dead, but look worse than they act. The youngest is around 11 
years old, and may be called the shy one. He gets pretty good grades, and 
his wire-rimed glasses make him look like a young Bruce Banner. Overall, 
Greg and his wife are doing just fine with their kids. There is a little 
shakiness about the marriage, for they have fought once or twice recently.
	He wasn't expecting the fantastic.

	As Greg was walking to his desk in his office, Ajax put his 
backpack on the ground and began to take off his shirt. Yanze looked at 
him and said, "What are you doing?"
	Not breaking stride, Ajax simply said, "You think he's going to 
believe unless I show him?"
	"Well..." Yanze raised his eyebrows. "Why didn't I think of 
that?" he muttered under his breath. He looked to Ajax as he was throwing 
his shirt on his backpack. "You really trust him, then?"
	Greg looked up after just sitting down. "What's going on?"
	Yanze stepped back from Ajax and said, "Greg Krugan, your nephew 
can grow wings."
	"What?"
	And just then, with the sound of rustling and the expression of 
an angel, Ajax grew a pair of huge sky blue, majestic wings. "Haaa," Ajax 
sighed. He then looked at Greg. He walked forward and shoved a wing out 
to Greg. "Touch it."
	Greg slowly reached out his hand toward the feathered wonder. He 
looked to Ajax, then back to the wing. Impatient, Ajax shoved the wing 
into his hand. "There! It's there. It's real."
	"I'm dreaming. I'm halucinating. This isn't real." Greg mumbled.
	Ajax pulled his wings back, causing a wind to scatter papers on 
the desk and dust on the bookshelves. Yanze walked forward to Greg and 
said, "Come on, Uncle Greg. You're the guy who always told stories about 
knights and dragons. You know that no one knows all the truths. That for 
some people, strawberry tastes like chocolate. That even with our 
incredible technology, we still don't really understand everything in 
life. Things occur that are beyond our reasoning. Well, here he is." He 
turned Ajax to the side and said, "Shrink Ôem." Ajax demonstrated the 
reverse, and then the forward of his ability. "See that? No bulge. That 
defies the laws of physics as we know them."
	A very shocked Greg simply said, "How did this happen?"

	"And so I went over to Yanze's house, and he had everything 
planned out. I've told him many times before how much more understanding 
you are than my father, and, well, we're here." finished Ajax. Greg had a 
troubled look on his face.
	Yanze said, "Mr. Krugan, we came here to find out how this 
happened. Any unusual occurrence in you and your brother's past would help."
	"Yes... Yes." Greg sat down. "It's not that I don't... well, it's 
just that this brings back memories. I never thought Handel was 
connected. I suppose I'm confusing you. Something strange happened a 
while back. Ajax, you remember that Betty had a miscarriage, don't you?"
	"I was told that she had one, and you were afraid you couldn't 
have babies together, that they'd all miscarriage." He was sitting down 
on a chair turned backwards, looking like Gabriel.
	"Yes. We were worried." Greg had a far away look on his face. A 
jittery nervousness swept into his voice. "Very worried. Well, it wasn't 
a miscarriage.
	"It all started when she started having contractions 5 months 
early. We rushed to the doctor, and tried everything to stop the 
miscarriage, but no drug worked. One of the drugs put Betty asleep, and 
so she was so when the doctor tried to extract the baby." He looked down, 
then straight at the two boys.
	"It was an egg. A bird egg. 4 inches in diameter, grayish in 
color. The doctor and I decided to keep this quiet. I kept the egg, and 
told Betty that it was a miscarriage. I took the egg to the Humane 
society, and it was purchased by a bird collector in Morton. I haven't 
heard of it since, and haven't thought of it much until now."
	"Mr. Kru- Greg. Is there anything in the past that you can think 
of that would explain what happened? Did you work at a nuclear power 
plant? Did your father transport chemical wastes?" Yanze pressed.
	Greg laughed. "Nothing like that." He gave a snort. "That's too 
much like some bad comic book." He shrugged. "I don't know. There was 
nothing. No chemicals, no nothing ever. We didn't even live close to a 
power plant. We got our electricity from a dam."
	Yanze sat back. "We definitely have a problem here. Either both 
you and your brother were exposed to some form of space radiation, which 
is unlikely, or your father was somehow affected by some gene-altering 
substance that stayed dormant until it came to you two, which is also 
hard to reason. If the radiation didn't affect his children, why would it 
affect only his children's children?"
	Ajax spoke up. "Or it could just be something with me," said 
Ajax. "After all, that business with the Milforer mansion, the spirits 
and whatnot could be the source of everything."
	Yanze continued blithely on. "If the genetic alteration hit your 
father, and it didn't alter him, and it didn't alter his children, it is 
possible that the alteration didn't kick in until the third generation, 
yet extremely unlikely. So, in stead, two kids of two brothers are 
genetically altered. The theory that the fathers were hit by the genetic 
alteration best suits our current situation. So, therefore, something 
must have happened to the two before having babies, they must have been 
together at the time, for it should be difficult to replicate whatever 
force it was that ---"
	"That's it!" exclaimed Gene.
	"What?" asked Yanze.
	"I think I know what it is." He was getting up and putting some 
things together like a note pad and pencil.
	"What is it?" said Ajax.
	Greg said, "Well, I'll leave a note for my family that I've gone, 
and... We're going to Grandma's."

	He explained on the way there. "When I was a kid, I once did a 
science project on the identification of an unknown substance."
	"So?" said Yanze from the back seat.
	"I told my mom about it, and she said that there were 10 vials of 
something in her basement. I took them and tried to find out what the 
substance was. I tested with acid, with bases, with indicators, I put it 
on rocks to see if there was a chemical reaction, but it did nothing, 
absolutely nothing! It didn't boil, it didn't freeze, although it did 
snuff out a fire in a snap. I was told to be very careful not to get any 
on me, but I think that is nearly impossible for a kid like me to do. I 
got a bit on me, I guess. I tested it on drinking water, and I'm pretty 
sure Handel drank it by accident. I kept it a secret, and since he never 
got sick, I never told anybody."
	Yanze smiled. "I told you we'd figure it out sooner or later!"
	"This stuff made your first... And it made me with wings. If this 
got into the wrong hands, who knows what they could do with it!" 
exclaimed Ajax.
	"Precisely. That's why we have to find it, find out what it does, 
and either get rid of it, or put it where it belongs." concluded Yanze.
	"The last time I saw the vials was when they were in my mother's 
basement." said Greg.



-- 
-The Intolerable Picklejuice  (apearson@d.umn.edu)
http://www.d.umn.edu/~apearson
"The mob is getting ugly--" "They had a head start!"
"The fun never stops with the fun factory! Hang on, Max!"
"Cheeze whizzorama, Sam-- that's neat!"
       -Sam and Max
* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to arthur pearson <apearson@d.umn.edu> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
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From apearson@d.umn.edu Wed Nov 20 12:31:56 1996
Date: Wed, 20 Nov 1996 09:06:45 -0500
From: Picklejuice <apearson@d.umn.edu>
Reply-To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
To: tsa-talk@netbase.t0.or.at
Subject: Flight 1 spellchecked

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Ok. I pulled some strings and whipped my story into shape. I've added
some things, and in some places, just changed a few words for clarity.
Testing to see if it comes out right on the mailing list.

Flight 1
Prologe: "Flight"

	Ajax woke up sick. His entire mouth and nose network of tubes felt
prickly. On the bus, he sneezed a little bit, but mostly felt drained.
Tired. He also felt a horrible ache in his back.
	He was always a quiet boy. He never spoke up in class and had few
friends. Whenever someone talked to him, he^Òd mumble and put them off. A
few people, he^Òd open up to, if given the chance. Yanze, and Chad.
	He and Yanze found each other in their own time, but Ajax had to summon
every courage he had to talk to Chad. That was a month ago, near
Halloween. He^Òd watched their treehouse/clubhouse, longing to be part of
the raucus things they got themselves into. Night after night, he^Òd try
to get himself to ask Chad if he could be in their gang. Finally, he did
go up to the base of the tree. His seldom - used, often - quiet voice
shouted up to him that night with a desire to do it, and get away with
it.
	Ajax walked to his class. The pain in his back flared at each step.
	"Hey. There goes the dummy." It was Chad.
	After pursing his lips for a moment, he kept walking.
	"Dummy! Hey, I^Òm talkin^Ò ta _you_!" 
	His full name was Chad Drogemueller. Him and Moe were on the wrestling
team, Chad had won second place at a district competition, and Moe was
nicknamed The Block. Eekie, however, was a guy who just likes watching.
They were into disruption, disregard for the law, and demolitions. The
old eyesore of a shack that exploded, then burnt to the ground last
summer was their doing, according to everyone at school.
	The three of them, with Eekie giggling, walked over to Ajax. Chad put a
hand on his shoulder. In one swift move, he turned Ajax around and
shoved him against a row of lockers. Ajax shut his eyes in pain at the
sudden pressure to his sore spine.
	"I saw you last night, dummy. I saw you lookin^Ò at our clubhouse." He
pushed his face right up to Ajax, although the quiet boy knew the look
in his eyes held a buried fear. "You had your chance, dummy. You had
your chance to get into our club, but you blew it!" The next words, he
poked his hand into Ajax^Òs chest with each word. "Don^Òt. Hang. Around.
Our. Club. AGAIN!" With his last word, he pushed Ajax to the ground.
	Eekie was laughing crazily. Ajax felt nausea bubble in his stomach. Moe
leaned forward and grinned. Chad kicked him, and Ajax^Òs bubble popped.
He violently left his stomach-acid melted breakfast all over Chad^Òs
shoes and the floor.
	Eekie tripled over in laugter, pointing at Chad. Moe couldn^Òt repress
his laughter, either. Chad just gave them both looks and shoved Eekie on
his way to the bathroom.
	Ajax went home from school that day.
	His condition did not improve at home. Over two weeks, he kept getting
sicker and sicker.

	He was in the house again. The Milforer mansion. They were chasing him
through the halls, trying to scare him. Trying to make him think that
they were actual ghosts. But he knew better. He knew the real ghosts
were behind the boys.
	He shouldn^Òt have listened to them. But he wanted so much to be part of
their club. I mean, they had a tree house, a crude elevator, and the
rusted out shell of a van where they whipped up their explosives.
	But he didn^Òt even know the name of the club. Not that it mattered. The
boys were oblivious to the black flapping cloth spirits behind them.
	Ajax was running only because he knew that if he let the boys get up to
him, they^Òd grab him and hold him down long enough for the real ghosts
to kill them all.
	This time, as he got to the 5th floor of the 5 floor mansion, he didn^Òt
run down the hall and jump out the window in stark raving fear. Last
time he did that, he fell to the ground and died. As he collected
himself, he was reminded of Groundhog day. He had gone through the house
so many times before. Each time, he^Òd change something and the ending
was a little different. Now he scrambled back around the banister,
barely avoiding one of the boy^Òs grasping hands. His feet punched the
weak floorboards as he saw his goal: the pull-down attic stairs. A quick
jump and pull, and the stairs were down.
	One of the boys had tripped, and they were  scrambling to get to their
feet. Ajax gave a quick laugh. While they were being occupied, two of
their number were silently claimed by the wisps of black cloth he^Òd
pegged as evil spirits.
	He was up the stairs in a flash, panting with exhaustion. The attic was
bare, no windows. No way out. It was a dead end.

	The door opened up and Kelly Krugan looked in on her son. The room was
spotless for once. Only time he^Òd let her into his room was when he was
sick. Only time he^Òd let her clean up.
	Ajax was moving in his bed, restless in his sleep. Occasionally, he^Òd
make a tiny grunt that had more air than sound to it.
	A hand gently rested on her shoulder and her husband looked into the
room as she looked to him. "He keeps having nightmares, Handel. He can^Òt
get any rest this way."
	"Did he take the sedative the doctor prescribed?"
	Kelly looked back into the room with concern. "Yes, but it isn^Òt doing
anything."
	"We^Òll call the doctor in the morning, dear."

	Knowing the best way to handle this bad situation, he didn^Òt give up
and ran away from the hole in the attic^Òs floor, looking deeper into the
corners draped in dusk. There was always a chance he^Òd find some hidden
key in a dead end. Something he might use to get out before they killed
him again.
	The boys were laughing. They^Òd gotten to the top of the attic stairs
and were running after him. He felt their tennis shoes whap the sagging
floorboards in time with his shoes.
	Wait! There! A hole in the roof! Ajax did a quick turn and ran toward
the hole in the sloped ceiling. The boys changed direction to catch up
with him.
	Ajax easily crept out of the hole and was soon standing on the sloped
roof. Sliding shingles, dead leaves, fallen branches, an old frisbee,
and a bird^Òs nest spread out before him at a 25 degree angle. He hurried
toward the far end of the house. There were jeers from behind him. From
only two voices. He padded over the hump of the house and started toward
the far corner of the roof.
	A small pile of leaves that he stepped in shot out from under his foot
and he fell heavily to the roof.
	Sliding.
	He was so close! He fought every night because maybe, just maybe if the
spirits killed all the boys before they got to him, he wouldn^Òt die. It
was all a matter of weather or not he could buy enough time...
	Ajax latched on to some shingles, but they broke free, slowing him down
just a little bit. He twisted his body to gain some friction. The
friction of the belt on his jeans helped slow him down just enough for
him to begin grinding to a stop. He was breathing a sigh of relief, just
when he felt his feet go off the edge... 
	And onto a rain gutter. The gutter stretched out with a hard creek
under Ajax^Òs weight, but it, combined with his belt and his hands,
stopped him.
	His heart was making his chest do push-ups against the roof. A quick
look up revealed one boy was left.
	Whoever he was, he was clad in a goblin^Òs mask and costume, complete
with a plastic spiked club and smelly ripped clothes. The night sky
glowed crisply behind him, making the surrounding gigantic trees black,
clawing silhouettes.
	There was another silhouette behind the boy. The figure of one of those
evil spirits.
	"Ajax! Don^Òt move!" The boy shouted, finally gaining his voice. "I^Òll
find a rope or----"
	"Look out!" Cried Ajax, too late. The boy sank into the blackness of
the spirit behind him.
	And then there was nothing. No more spirits. No more boys. Just him and
the roof of the Milforer Mansion and the breeze. He smiled to himself
and carefully began pulling himself back onto the roof.
	He did it. Finally, after he couldn^Òt remember how many nights of this
stupid nightmare, he^Òd won. "Now tell him what he^Òs won!" Ajax muttered,
game show style. "A case of turtle wax, an all-expense paid tour of
Belgium, and restful sleep for the next decade."
	Ajax was up to his knees near the edge of the house when he heard the
strange rustle of cloth he thought he was rid of. He whipped his head up
in the direction of the noise.
	There was a white cloth billowing up over the spine of the roof.
	No. He^Òd won. It wasn^Òt fair! NO! In despair, he realized that it was
one last spirit. One for him. When faced with this choice before, he
always knew what to do: kill himself before the spirit killed him. In
his weak state in the real world, he was sure that one more spirit could
kill him out of shock. For real. Permenantly.
	He turned, and jumped.
	And felt something grab his ankle, holding him to the edge of the roof,
swinging him around, bringing him right up to----
	Whap! A liquid pain pressed from his face and into his eyes and the
roots of his hair. "Aaaow! Man!" He held his nose and craned his neck
around. Couldn^Òt see... He twisted and looked and saw that his leg was
not grasped by the spirit.
	He^Òd hooked it on the gutter, which was even now tearing rotten wood
out of the roof, dipping him lunge by lunge toward the ground.
	Not fast enough. If he didn^Òt fall soon, that white spirit would drift
right over the side of the roof and get him.
	Quickly doing a stomach crunch, he tried to free his legs.
	The sheet flowed over the roof and paused above him. It just stayed
there, not moving for a moment. Allowing the stunned Ajax enough time to
lose all hope. Then, it dipped around him and then...
	It stopped below him. Right underneath him. It was waiting.
	Ajax struggled now to get back onto the roof. The gutter wasn^Òt
cooperating. Although he managed go get a hold of the gutter, it was
lurching, steel peg by steel peg, away from the roof. Right to the
sheet.
	Ajax somehow managed to get his legs above the gutter, and he hauled
himself up on top of it. The roof was just above him. He reached up, and
grabbed onto soft wood. It crumbled under his hands and he lost his
balance, tipping forward into the wall.
	He tried to hold his hands to the wall and his feet to the gutter, but
the gutter swung too far away from the building now, and his hands were
scraping down the wall very quickly and his body twisted into the wrong
angle, still trying to use the gutter as purchase. His left hand found a
woodpecker hole just as his feet lost their footing on the gutter. He
brought his right hand around and clutched at the small hole in the wall
as his body flopped against the wall.
	A twisted head look and he saw that the sheet was behind him. Somehow
he knew it was through playing around. As he was letting go, it shot
into his back, causing him to cry in pain.
	Great hot shudders caused his body to buck in the nebulous air between
dream and death. Then, he felt the pain in his back.
	The pain he only felt when he was awake. That was the signal for him
that he was waking up.
	His back split open at the point of the sheet^Òs entry, releasing the
pent up molten fear, depresison, sickness, and dispair of the last two
weeks in a single blast. The air he was enveloped in was changing around
him, soflty wrapping around him as he moved in quicksand slowness.
	And then he was in his bed. The dream was fading, the sensation of the
sheet and the strange thing with his back dimming.
	He was face down on the bed, his head to one side. As he blinked the
last of sleep away, he realized that he felt a lot better. Great, in
fact. Completely rested. He shrugged the sheets off him and kneeled up
in bed, slouched toward his pillow. Then, he kneeled up and stretched
his arms, arching his back, spreading his wings far enough to brush the
walls of his room.
	His eyes suddenly dinner plates, Ajax immediately shrugged his
shoulders and clenched his fists in fear.
	He sat there, kneeling on his bed, his wings scrunched up in the same
shrug of fear as his shoulders. He just waited for a while.
	Then, he let his head turn around, taking in his room as it slowly
edged toward his back. His clean dresser, his grandfather^Òs old toy box
now filled with his toys, the stupid clothy wallpaper, and then, his
wing.
	It was real. Covered in sky blue feathers. A second pair of limbs on
his back that he instinctively knew that he could control with a
thought. He reached his hand around and touched it. Velvet smooth, thin
slats of wonder. Feathers. Real feathers. Releasing the wing, he spread
it out until it brushed the wall again. He turned his head to the other
wing and did the same. He flexed them a couple times, too shocked to
think clearly.
	As soon as he started exploring his new appendages, he stopped and
realized something.
	He didn^Òt want to be a freak. Depression shuddered through him once
again, curling him into a fetal position and folding his wings across
his back. He sobbed, sending shake after shake through his body and
wings.

	Kelly stopped at the sound coming from her son^Òs room. She cautiously
approached because she thought she recognized them. She was right. Ajax
was crying. The mother^Òs look of worry and concern instantly slapped
onto her face and she silently opened the door...
* * *
If this is a story, it's copyrighted to Picklejuice <apearson@d.umn.edu> .
If you want to post this anywhere else,  please talk to the author and get
permission first.                                                Thank you
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