It was late, and the roar of the motorway – no, freeway, was never ending. Where were all these Americans going at this God-forsaken hour? It was bad enough being stuck with a lumpy motel bed, and lack of sleep, at two in the morning, but the noise from the interstate – I-something or other – meant that Tanya couldn’t have the window open. Why place a motel so close to such a source of noise anyway? Is it some extra way of keeping the patrons awake all night so they’ll spend some more money on some service or other, that they wouldn’t use if they’d had a good night’s sleep?
Tanya looked again through the fourteenth floor window, just in case something had changed. But no, the two endless streams of headlights and taillights just kept on coming and going, and probably would until the end of time. It wasn’t that England was quiet – she’d tried to sleep at a friend’s just off the M4, by junction 2, going into London. It had been a bit noisy, but was nothing compared to the volume of traffic here at this hour. That’ll teach you to be a country girl at heart, having come from a small town where motorways – and freeways – were miles away, and the only noise at two in the morning was the occasional taxi taking a bunch of drunks home from a party or nightclub, or even the occasional drunk staggering his way home from a party or nightclub. That was another thing; everyone was so mobile here. It must be something to do with the size of the country. England was compact, not too far from anywhere, and overcrowded – well, by British standards anyway.
And that was how she’d got here. They had – the girls, one night – taken numbers for the Lottery, all at random, and somehow Tanya had ended up with a nice few thousand pounds to her name. The catch, if you could call it a catch, was that she had to take two weeks worth of holiday in a country she’d never been to before, and as she didn’t know any foreign languages – failed spectacularly at French, German and Spanish at school – she decided that it was either America, Canada, Australia or New Zealand. Some flipping of a 10p coin later and she was off to the States. Great! She’d always wanted to visit Disneyland and Vegas.
It didn’t seem so glamorous, now, though. For reasons of economy – even a few thousand can run out – she decided to travel across the vast country by Greyhound – a great way to really see the country in all its moods, she was told. Fine, except somehow she’d cocked it all up and was now here, in a motel, waiting for the next day to come and the next connection. She had never been the most organised of travellers, and although it all added to the fun of the holiday – when told back home – at the time it was a boring nuisance. Ho hum.
She turned on the telly, and started channel-hopping. Then something caught her eye, and she put down the remote. Where was that magazine, the National Enquirer-like thing she’d bought on a whim? Fishing it out of her bag, she thumbed through the pages – aha, here it is. The odd-looking scratch card, which she would have automatically thrown away, if there had been a waste bin around at the time, had the same logo as the TV screen – and presumably the show. She turned the sound up.
“…So come on, check your card, and if you have a code number ending in tonight’s numbers – in order – shown at the top right of your screen, then call in on the toll-free number bottom left. You can win a fantastic prize if you get right a simple question, or answer a few more questions and go for the jackpot! It’s easy. Make that call. We’ll be back after these messages.”
Tanya checked the number on the card, which seemed to slip in and out of focus – she was still running on London time, and there it was past seven in the morning. Then the number cleared and yes she’d got a match. Hoping desperately that the toll-free call also applied to hotel room phones – or she might have a large bill waiting for her when she checked out – she took the chance and called.
“Hello caller?”
“Yes, I’ve got…”
“… Have you got 95832 as your last five numbers?”
“Yes.”
“Wait one moment.” The show was suddenly back. “Hello caller?” It was the same as she was hearing through the earpiece – she was on air! “Yes caller, it’s you! You’re on. What’s the capital of France?”
“Paris,” Tanya said automatically.
“Yes caller, you’ve won! Scratch off the top left square on your card to see what you’ve won! And now a word from our sponsor…”
Tanya filtered out the word from their sponsor as she scratched the square with a hastily-found quarter. It was a single letter – L. Oh, a strange perfume came from the card – one of those scratch and sniff cards, obviously.
“Caller?” She was back on air, and now nerves were cutting in.
“Y-yes?”
“What have you got?”
“A single letter – L”
“That’s right! The lucky letter tonight is L! What do you smell?”
“Lilac,” she said automatically. One of her favourite flowers.
“Yes! Now caller, do you want to go for the jackpot?”
Why not? “Yes please.”
“Good for you! Answer these five questions correctly and you will WIN! WIN! WIN! The more questions you answer correctly the better the prize! It’s as simple as that! Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Your first question, on the way to your big prize, is who wrote The Adventures Of Huckleberry Finn?”
“Erm… Mark… Twain?”
“CORRECT! Your second question, caller, on your way to your big prize, is in which hand does the Statue Of Liberty hold a book?”
Fifty-fifty, thought Tanya, desperately trying to remember pictures of the statue. “You’re running out of time caller!”
“Left.”
“CORRECT! Your third question, caller, is who wrote Beethoven’s Fifth?”
A trick question! With the pace of the show and the nerves, she could easily fall for this. Luckily, she’d had something similar asked of her in a pub quiz a few weeks ago, and when she’d got it wrong the simpleness of the question stuck in her brain.
“Beethoven.”
“CORRECT! Two to go! Spell endeavour for me.”
Tanya thought. This is America. They drop ‘u’s from things. “I’ll try E-N-D-E-A-V-O-R”
“CORRECT! We’ll be back for your last question after some messages.”
The pace of these questions was relentless – it was a good job she was wide awake. Having a wide range of knowledge about all sorts of stuff, though not in detail, had helped win her a few pub quizzes, and this was just like that.
“And we’re back! What’s your name caller?”
“Tanya Davies.”
“Well, Tanya. One to go. Are you nervous?”
“A bit.”
“I notice you’re from across the Atlantic. Which part?”
“Near Oxford.”
“A famous place of learning. No wonder you’re doing so well. Are you ready Professor Tanya for your last question?”
There was a quick brain operating behind the spiel, that was now obvious. This was no idiot reading phonetic questions off an idiot board. “Yes, I’m ready.”
“It’s a special clever question for our English cousin…”
“…uh-uh…”
“And it’s a math question. Now think carefully. I can only take your first answer. You have ten seconds. In mathematics, what is two plus three times four?”
“Erm… Hang on…”
Tanya’s brain whirled. There was a catch, surely. They wouldn’t make the last question an easy one, but might make it superficially easy. Something about precedence, or something like that, in maths, went through her mind quickly.
“Four… Five…”
“Err,” Times and divide before add and subtract? Yes, that sounds right. Nothing to lose.
“Seven…”
“Three times four is twelve. Add two is fourteen.”
The phone and TV nearly exploded with sound and cheesy music. “YESS! Correct! Well done Professor Tanya. You’ve won tonight’s star prize! Now while you’ve been on the line we’ve traced where you are calling from and should be knocking on your door at this very moment.”
What the…? How could they get here so quickly? Nothing. No knocking.
A look of fake panic on the presenter’s face. This was planned.
“But as they’re not here’s a word from our sponsor.”
As soon as the TV cut to a word from the sponsor there was a knock at the door. She opened it. It was a messenger boy, dressed up in the traditional outfit. He gave her an envelope on a silver plate, then turned and walked off without a word.
“And we’re back. Tanya, have you got the envelope?”
“Yes.”
“Open it please.”
She did. It was another scratch card. “You have a scratch card just like this one, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Scratch off a number, anything from one through twelve.” There was a numbered grid on the screen as well, and as she scratched at eight, her lucky number, the eight on the screen vanished bit by bit.
“Enjoy your prize Tanya! That’s all for tonight, so goodnight!” The TV went to static. No closing titles, no high-speed credits, nothing. Strange.
“Hello? Hello?” Nothing on the phone, silence. She put it down. There was another smell, this time of lavender. Of course! The letter L. Then she passed out on the bed.
It was later. The digital clock above the bed said 4:17. Tanya looked owlishly at it, as if it was from Mars. Then she realised that she was thirsty, and went into the small bathroom for a drink of water. It was then that she noticed the extra bulges in her T-shirt – two, to be exact. She had a nice square pattern of four bulges, and they were identical. She put her hand up to remove the comedy false breasts that someone – the show, perhaps? – had placed there while she was temporarily out, and felt real skin. She felt around some more, not liking what she found. Panic was now setting in, and she whipped off the shirt to reveal the awful truth. She really had four breasts – there was no Velcro holding them in place; no sign of them being glued on; no sticky tape discreetly holding the lower two to her chest. So… Either someone had slipped in a couple of silicone breasts under her skin while she was out – and there was no sign of an operation of any kind – or… She touched the nipple on the lower left, and she felt it via her fingers and via the nipple – it was part of her, wired up to her nervous system.
She fainted.
Tonya woke up. Something wasn’t quite right. There was a strange weight against her chest, which felt as if it would move. She moved and there was a bump bump and the weight was gone. She looked over the edge of the bed and there were two independent breasts, as round and as big as soccer balls, each with a nipple. She felt her chest, and there were her two breasts there – her lower two! She was flat-chested down to her lower ribs, and then her breasts. Putting two and two together – or not, as the case may be – she deduced that her top two breasts had fallen off in the night. No pain, no marks, nothing. She got up and looked in the dresser mirror, which confirmed all she’d thought. Something else wasn’t right either. Tonya thought carefully. What was known to a human being from almost day one of it’s existence? It’s name! Yesterday she had a different name; not much different, but not what she had now. She couldn’t remember what it was. Anything to give her a clue to what was going on.
Time for toilet. She raced and sat and felt the urge to strain; pop bump, pop bump. Before she could react her last two breasts were now on the floor beside her feet, and she automatically put her hands to where they had been, in time to feel her skin settling down after disgorging the breasts. She was as flat as a man, and as smooth as a baby’s bottom. Putting her hands to her face, Tonya cried her eyes out. Unnoticed to her, the breasts each quietly vanished with a gentle pop.
Toni awoke, dried tears on her cheeks. It was later, but having no clock in the bathroom she didn’t know how much later. She’d slept on the toilet with her face in her hands, which had slumped to her sides as time had gone on. Somehow she’d kept her balance, and… Her breasts! They were there, but green? I nice row of one, two, three… ten little green breasts from armpit to armpit. Green? So were her arms… and her legs. To the mirror – she was all green. She’d wanted to be a Star Trek Orion slave girl ever since she was little, but now she was one it was odd. That, and the row of breasts that looked cute in the mirror but… Arrgghhh! She convulsed and arched her back, then suddenly there was another row of neat little green breasts. Oooohhh! Another arch, another row. All in ordered formation, like three rows of soldiers. Ready for any more sudden pains and contortions, Toni walked gingerly back to her bed – it was just past eleven.
The television clicked on. A voice from the past – yesterday – was talking to her. “… So Toni, you’ve come through the first stages of your transformations. You’ve realised that the quiz was rigged and set up just for you, drawing on your own imagination and preconceptions…”
“Hold it, HOLD IT!” She bellowed at the screen. “What is going on here? Am I allowed to know?”
“No.”
“What?”
“No,” the voice repeated, coming from the TV speaker, with static on the screen. “That would spoil it.”
“WHAT?”
“Don’t shout, my dear. You’ll enjoy this.”
“I bloody haven’t done so this far. Look at me. I’ve got thirty breasts and I’m green.”
“I know. Exciting isn’t it?”
“No it soddin’ well isn’t! I’ve been very upset, confused, distraught, and slept on the bog as well.”
“Ah, but could you have done that a few days ago? You’d have fallen off.” Toni stopped in her tracks. That was true. She didn’t have the best balance in the world, but now… The voice continued. “You see. You’re being changed, and in little stages. If this was done in one big change you’d never handle it and you’d explode with confusion. I’ve seen it.”
“How can someone explode with confusion?”
“Very messily, I assure you. Don’t worry Toni, you are being monitored and nothing will harm you. Just sit back and enjoy the show. Oh, have you pleasured yourself yet? That’s one of the bonuses we install early on. You’ll find it… interesting.” The TV clicked off before Toni could reply.
The minutes passed. Toni lay on the bed. More minutes passed. Then she couldn’t leave it alone any longer, and let her fingers creep down between her legs and ZAP!
Terri awoke, and felt the sweat-drenched bed she was laying in. Then memories surfaced. That had been amazing! Times ten at least! She hadn’t been able to stop, on and on and on, muscle fatigue no problem. She gingerly touched down there again and there was no soreness, no tenderness, just a feeling of “Let’s go girl!” So she did.
She awoke again, and thought that “Any more of that and I’ll be dead!” That had been even better! Times twenty at least. She sat up and thought. Twenty times better than normal – why hadn’t her brain exploded? She thought of the statement “explode with confusion” and started to understand how it might happen. She touched her little breasts, this time from left to right, top row to bottom. It was like playing an orgasmic tune on her front, and she set about doing some composing.
Waking, Treena got up – mainly because the bed was yuck – and went to have a shower. Leave well alone, she thought, at least until you’ve got some food inside you. She stopped as if she was on a rope – how could she go outside the bedroom looking as she did? It was then she noticed her image in the mirror change. She became her normal colour, her breasts merged sideways and upwards into two perfectly normal, if a bit large, breasts, and she was totally normal. She’d desired it, and it had happened.
Click! The TV came on, and called to her. She went to it and was told “You are a clever girl. With a bit of practice you’ll have full control. Now you go down for dinner and then come back for some real fun!” Click off.
After her shower there were some new clothes on the dresser, and without checking Treena knew that they were made just for her. They hugged her body like a second skin, and in the mirror she looked fantastic. Time for some food!
After dinner – she’d eaten like a whole heard of horses, not surprising really – she’d dutifully returned to her room to find it all tidy, with fresh sheets on the bed, and a collection of little boxes on the dresser, numbered from one to ten. She sat on the end of the bed and waited for the click of the TV.
“No need,” said a husky voice (no, it wasn’t a husky) from the bathroom, and out stepped a six-foot stunning picture of female elegance. The shoulder-length blonde hair framed a face of striking intelligence, and the perfect shapely torso looked simply stunning, even with the four breasts and arms and the tail which reached down to the floor and ended in a lion tuft and the antennae and…
“You like them?” Said the woman, noticing Katty’s glance upwards above her head. “They’re cosmetic, and could as easily have been horns, or knives, or tentacles with eyes in the end. It’s up to me. Oh, sorry. My name’s Rachel. I know that name is one of your favourites, and that is why I chose it.”
“What are you here for?” Katty managed to blurt out.
“You. I’m here to help you.”
Katty felt it, and then looked down. She had a massive erection! Go with the flow, said the hormones coursing through her brain. Rachel smiled. “Obviously you want something now. Well, what’s stopping you? I’m not.” Katty ripped off her clothes, mindlessly, while Rachel elegantly undressed and climbed gracefully into bed – which immediately had the top sheet ripped off it by a hormone-swamped Katty as she dived in to try out her new add-on.
It was nearly an hour later, and the two lovers were lying side-by-side staring at the ceiling and talking. “Well, Katharine, can we get on now?”
Katharine turned her head to look at Rachel, who despite the wear and tear of the romp still managed to look chic, and smiled. “Yes, whatever you have planned for me I’m ready to take it like a man – so to speak.”
They laughed together, and looked down. As if on cue Katharine’s latest fitting fell off, lay on the sheet for a few seconds and then vanished with a gentle pop. She rubbed where it had been attached, and this sent her off into space again. When she returned to Earth she made a mental note not to touch it again unless she had nothing to do for the next fifteen minutes or so.
Rachel had been up and about while Katharine had been otherwise indisposed. She’d showered and was now wearing a simple – but smart – trouser suit. She still had her four breasts, but her antennae were now curling goat horns, erotically rolling around past her ears. Her tail was gently sweeping from side to side, suggesting patience while at the same time hinting at power. As Katharine sat up the TV clicked on and this time with a picture.
“Ready girls? OK, the roulette wheel of fate spins, and where it stops no-one knows.”
The TV image showed a simple wheel with numbers one to ten printed around it in triplicate, making it look almost like a normal roulette wheel. It was rotating very slowly, and Katharine could see that there were a few extra holes, marked with things like a Monopoly board. This made up the full number of possible numbers on the roulette wheel. It increased in speed and a silver ball was sent around it the other way.
The ball settled on seven. Rachel let out a squeal of delight. “My favourite first time!” she exclaimed. She went over to the dresser and picked up the box with 7 on it and handed it to Katharine.
“Open it,” she was told from the TV. She did, and there were two circles of clear thin plastic inside, each about two inches across. Expecting something more, she looked at Rachel.
Rachel took one of the objects out of the box and slapped it on her forehead. Katharine did the same, and immediately there was Rachel’s voice in her head.
“The first part of this one is telepathy,” thought Rachel. “We need to be linked for this to work.”
“What do I do?”
“Go and completely open the window.”
Katharine wasn’t sure about this, her vertigo emerging from her memory. And being viciously suppressed! She opened the window, put her head out and looked down. Nothing! No dizziness, no strange urge to jump, no fear, nothing.
“Are you ready?” Thought Rachel to her. “Now, on the count of three, jump.”
“One.”
Katharine felt an itch on her back, spread over an area between her shoulder blades.
“Two.”
This burst out of her back with a silent urgency, and she flexed her legs to jump. Logic seemed to have jumped first, and she wasn’t in a questioning mood.
“Three.”
She jumped out the window and felt the air beneath her wings – large beating eagle wings that bore her effortlessly.
“What do you think of that?” Thought Rachel to her. “Now move over, I’m coming out.” Rachel came to the window and jumped out, her wings spreading and flapping to take her out, then around and back to Katharine.
“Don’t think, just do,” Rachel thought at Katharine. “It’s like walking. You don’t consciously think of moving your legs and feet, you just think about where you’re going. It’s automatic. Same with us flying. Up we go.” Rachel flapped and vanished quickly upwards, and Katharine followed, exhilarated with it all. She’d seen on some science documentary that if the human body really had wings it would need to bulge at the front to accommodate the muscles – like a bird does. Well, she felt and looked at her front and there was no bulge, so this was something that couldn’t be happening. Either that or the scientist had got it wrong. When she reached Rachel she inspected her and there was a normal human frame, no sign of any extra muscles.
“How does it work?” She thought at Rachel.
The emotion, curiosity and impression of the documentary were all sent to Rachel through the telepathic link, so she immediately knew all of what Katharine was referring to. “I don’t know,” she thought back. “It just does. Good eh?”
“Yes.” They reached the top of the hotel – another twenty or so floors up – and settled on the roof. They were panting a bit, but elated at the novelty of it all. Even Rachel, who had flown many times before, still thrilled at flight. This came over the link to Katharine, who was pleased that Rachel wasn’t acting it – she was genuinely enjoying it.
Then came a strange thought from Rachel. “Ever fucked in mid-air?”
It was such an unexpected question that all Katharine could do was reply. “No.”
“Do you fancy a fuck in mid-air?” There were overtones of intense emotional and sexual pleasure through the link, and Katharine knew she had assented to this request – extremely gladly and hungrily – by hurtling upwards again after Rachel, well above the radio mast on top of the hotel. Rachel stopped at a point exactly above the mast, then burst through the material of her trouser suit and flew with her erect phallus towards Katharine who responded suitably and they mated with wings on autopilot, screaming their orgasms to the freeway nearby.
After some flying around, the women returned to the room, where the voice on the TV reprimanded them in mock tones for flying off so quickly. Rachel looked at Katharine, then shrank her wings into her back at will and removed the patch.
“It’s easy,” came the voice in Katharine’s head. “Once you’ve learned a skill you don’t need the accessories. Think your wings into your back and they’ll remain there until you want them again. Same with telepathy – but only between people you’ve seen apply the patch. This is a safety feature to stop you, or me, unexpectedly bursting into people’s brains and giving them a fatal shock.” Katharine removed her patch, and after a couple of false starts, her wings shrank away.
“Good girl,” came the voice from the TV. “You’ve learned much. Time for another number.”
The wheel span again, and settled in a hole without a number, but with a green X on it. Rachel looked at Katharine, smiled, then picked her up and threw her effortlessly out the open window. “What the fuck…?” As Katharine fell, then instinctively grew out her wings and flapped herself to a standstill, six fours up. She ascended back to the window and in.
“Don’t tell me,” she said staring at Rachel. “That was some sort of test.”
“Got it in one. If you failed you wouldn’t be suitable for the rest of the… time you have with us.” Kathy’s heart broke. She actually felt the name change this time, brought on by the shock of learning that she would be losing Rachel sometime in the future. Rachel picked up the emotions, and put her arms around Kathy’s waist. Kathy put her head on Rachel’s shoulder and they stood there while Rachel consoled Kathy both mentally and verbally. She didn’t say that she wouldn’t leave, and that was what Kathy wanted most to hear.
The on-screen roulette wheel had spun again, and this time the ball had stopped in 3. Time patiently passed for Kathy to compose herself so that the evening could continue. A quick hug from Rachel, and a healing sub-vocal thought, and Kathy was ready. She picked up the box with 3 on it and opened it. A grey/green fog emerged and engulfed Kathy, and she coughed herself to tears. When she was able to see again she looked at Rachel, who said nothing but just looked back at Kathy, her gaze scanning Kathy upwards from foot to head.
Kathy looked at her body, and she was a handbag! That was her first impression, but she was not covered in human skin any more, but crocodile skin. Her feet, or claws, or whatever, up to her arms with more claw-things, and then she looked in the mirror. She had a snout, a few inches in length, and when she opened her mouth her tongue was forked. Her hair was parted down the middle, falling over her ears which were now on the top of her skull – like wolf ears but harder. She was a crocodile woman. She turned to Rachel, who had also mutated into something, but it wasn’t just one thing.
Rachel had four legs – beautiful mahogany legs. They were off some sort of antique table, and were deep brown in their varnish covering. She had a flat area between these legs, and it was about three feet in length and about eighteen inches thick – a trunk of a tree laid on top of her legs. At the back end a horse tail flicked, and that was deep blue. At the front end, her torso grew vertically for about three feet, human in shape and form, but made of flexible marble. She had her four breasts and arms still, but the arms were more like tentacles without the suckers, leading to hands made of the same stuff, and surely designed for one thing only – to caress.
Then Kathy looked at Rachel’s face. It was set on a neck of pure muscle – the muscle of wood that enables an oak to stand up to a hurricane. The face itself was a bit like an stretched-upwards frog face with lots of sharp needle teeth, and her ears were miniature dish receivers. There was an impression of power in those jaws, and those teeth could do real damage. The hair ran down her back to her waist, and was thin wire strands. Rachel smiled, and the smile was wide and powerful.
“Well,” she thought. “What does Kathy the crocodile woman think?”
Kathy ran her claw hands over her own body again, then stepped forward and touched Rachel gently all over. “This body,” said Rachel. “Is what I’m currently working on. I like the power of the tree, with the marble representing stone, and the amphibian representing where we come from in evolutionary terms. Climb on my back, and don’t worry, you can’t scratch me!”
Kathy went to climb on, then thought and her wings sprouted briefly to convey her up and onto Rachel’s back. “Clever girl,” thought Rachel to Kathy as she moved around the room, her legs flexing as if they were strong rubber springs, not wood.
“This is strange,” thought back Kathy. “I want to…”
“Kiss me,” came the strong thought from Rachel, and she turned her head around, opened her mouth wider than Kathy thought it would go, and took Kathy’s snout in her sharp teeth and gently held her there, while she ran her powerful tongue along Kathy’s lips, then pushed it into her mouth, where Kathy responded accordingly. The powerful sexual emotions from Rachel were burning into her brain, and she was soon aroused. Then, as Rachel released Kathy’s snout she penetrated the crocodile girl with a phallus in the middle of her back and Kathy was past the point of no return.
Claire awoke on the bed, back to normal. Beside her was Rachel, back to her ‘normal’ state, although Claire wondered what was Rachel’s normal state.
“This is my normal state,” came Rachel’s thought, and her eyes opened and she smiled – a human smile. “I bet you’ve never fucked a centaur-tree-frog with the power to bite your head off at a moment’s notice before?”
“All the time!” Rachel smiled, and put her hand in between Claire’s legs and started to stimulate her. Claire responded in kind and found a throbbing penis. She sprouted wings and took on the role of the harpy, dominating Rachel as they rolled and humped. Eventually they sprang apart, exhausted.
Claire was in the shower when Rachel hopped in; no legs, just a gigantic spring. She settled in front of Claire and informed her that it was time for the next number. What would she come up with next, thought Claire. You’ll have to wait and see, thought back Rachel with a wicked grin in the thought. Claire emerged from the shower, towelled herself down and watched as Rachel hopped and sprung into the bedroom, where once again the wheel was spinning on the TV.
Another green X, and Rachel immediately changed her head into a crocodile head, turned her head sideways and made to bite Claire’s head off. Claire was slow in thinking, and Rachel’s teeth stopped gently touching each side of Claire’s head, then withdrew. Claire had been amazed at Rachel’s speed. The speed those jaws had closed on her head, surely Rachel couldn’t have stopped them in time. But she had.
“Strike one,” came from the television in a loud umpire voice.
Claire was baffled. “What should I have done?”
“That was a warning,” thought Rachel, her head back to human. “You haven’t learned quickly enough. Next time it’ll hurt.”
“What should I have done?” Insisted Claire.
“Whatever would have saved you from me,” thought Rachel back. “Nothing is instinctive with you yet. You have two more chances.”
And then Claire understood some of what Rachel was about. The concept ‘apprentice’ and ‘master’ had come over the telepathy link. She was being trained. “Trained,” she thought back. “What for?”
“The next number is due, little English woman,” came the reply. “Pay attention.” Claire thought, what would have saved her if Rachel hadn’t stopped the bite? A helmet or shield? Aha. She imagined a helmet of iron and she was wearing it.
“Good girl, but a bit late,” came Rachel’s thought. “Your instincts are developing, though, and in time I think you’ll get the hang of it.”
“It’s a Zuphong,” said the voice from the TV. Claire looked at the screen, and the ball had fallen in a hole with a strange squiggle, much like a cross between a treble clef and an ampersand. Her helmet melting away, she looked at Rachel, who was frowning.
“Oh shit,” she said.
“What do you mean, ‘Oh shit’?” Asked Claire.
Rachel looked at Claire, and said “What do you think of me?”
“Pardon?”
“What do you know, or think you know, about me?”
Claire thought. “Very little, actually.”
“How very English.”
“I can’t help that. I am English.”
“I know.”
“OK. Before we go any further. What should I know about you?”
Rachel sat down. “I’m sorry. If you survive this then I’ll tell you all you want to know.” Claire tensed. Something was going to happen.
Rachel stood up. She extended her left hand at Claire with fingers pointing, and there was a “Ching!” noise and she suddenly had metal – and razor-sharp – fingernails. Claire looked at the woman’s face and saw it change – slowly but inexorably – into something she’d rather Rachel’s face didn’t change into. This was obviously another test.
Rachel’s eyes turned black, and her facial skin melted into metal. Her partly open mouth showed sharp teeth, probably designed for chewing through human flesh. Her hair fell off, revealing a bald scalp that had a line up the middle, from forehead to the back of her/its neck, and out of that line rose a blade a full two inches high. Claire looked at the rest of Rachel, and shouldn’t have. The cyborg that had been Rachel attacked in that split-second, and Claire’s immediate instinct was to get out of the way, not defend. Then her new instincts cut in and she enveloped herself in a shield of metal – just in time, as the skull blade crashed into it and shattered. Rachel/it screamed, and another emerged from the remnants of the broken blade, thicker and nastier than before. The bladed hands were now solid lumps of iron, pure weight and power. The hands crashed into Claire’s shield, breaking off the finger-blades but the inertia of the iron hands crashed on, denting the shield badly. By now the Rachel’s clothing had fallen off, revealing a powerhouse of metal muscle and vicious edges. Claire could feel the air being sucked into the cyborg to create the extra mass, and thought of doing the same to strengthen her shield, now badly dented. This took time, and the cyborg pushed Claire back against the wall before pummelling her with attacks from all directions. Feeling the pain – somehow – of her shield taking the attack, Claire strained harder and her shield thickened and repaired. This was no good, she’d have to stop this and attack herself. Her wings grew out, and she rose to the ceiling, but the cyborg rose as well and there was no escape.
Claire was now thinking at high speed – how to stop metal? She noticed that the cyborg was either pure iron or steel, and no other type of metal. What affected ferrous metals? Rust? Claire immediately thought some water at the cyborg, but it just splashed off. Not long enough! She thought some more and then willed time around the cyborg to speed up immensely, so the oxygen could do its work. Nothing. The quality of the steel and iron was too good, and the cyborg just kept on coming.
Damage! That was needed. A way for the rust to start and get under the skin. She thought up a morning star and willed it into the cyborg face with all her might – plenty of room for damage there. More water immediately afterwards and then speed up time, and YES, the cyborg rusted before her, spreading out from the face, down throughout the body. It collapsed in a pile of rust and Claire dispensed with her shield and settled back on the floor, exhausted.
Then the rust formed into a shape, and within a few seconds Rachel was standing there, her face wild with pleasure and her hands applauding as if they would fall off! “Well done! Well done! That was quite brilliant!”
“It is you? Will you do that again?”
Rachel laughed. “No, I won’t. I’m so impressed!”
Claire felt a change coming on and…
..Now, Clare sat there, new capabilities permanently evolved and burned into her body system. She was considerably more than the human who had walked into the hotel room – two days ago, was it? Why hadn’t anyone come to find out what was going on with this tourist Englishwoman?
“No need,” said Rachel, reading her thoughts. “It’s all taken care of.”
“Rest time,” came from the TV, which promptly turned itself off.
Rachel sat down beside Clare, and kissed her. “Clare,” she said. “Let me tell you all about myself.”
“I am a female human, before you ask. I come originally from Texas, from a little house that was to isolated to be considered part of any town, and was right on the border of two counties. My mid-Atlantic accent I attribute to my parents – mother English, father Mexican – who are now dead. They were crushed on the freeway that collapsed in the last west coast earthquake, and apparently they died instantly. Somehow I know that to be true, don’t ask me how. I was away at university at the time.
“After a decent period of mourning I was contacted, by much the same method as yourself, and initiated into the Society. I didn’t have a Master (although female, I’m still called a Master. It’s a title of rank, not of gender.) as you have. I was just trained by memory implantation and rote. Apparently there are other Masters like myself, although I’ve never met one. Something about interference with individual techniques, or so I can work out.
“Oh, I chose you to work with. I fancied you from the first time I learned of you, first mentally and then physically. I know there’s a rule, more a guideline really, that says you shouldn’t get involved – just like the medical profession, I suppose – but I think I’ve been left to do things my own way, so here we are.”
There was a lot more coming over from Rachel as she spoke, via the mental link, and Clare felt Rachel’s emotions as she spoke. The anguish of losing her parents; the joy of getting a First at university; the desire she felt for her Apprentice, and the freedom of choice to conduct her training as she chose. The was also something more; the violent attacks were conducted with a similar attitude of mind as Clare would feel if she had to put to sleep a much-loved-but-suffering pet – the feeling of this hurts me badly, but is the right thing to do.
“One more thing Clare,” said Rachel, as she snuggled up closer, “I fall in love with the person, not the gender. I love you for who you are – if you were a man I’d still want you and fuck you and love you and care for you and so on. I consider gender to be irrelevant when loving – strange to the average American I know, but I’m looking after myself, and don’t care what others think.”
“You haven’t said,” thought Clare, “but how old are you.”
“I really don’t know. I’ve been through time thingies and so have aged out of step with the rest of the universe. I recon I’m about late 20s/early 30s, but in experience sometimes I’m in my late 40s!”
Clare exhaled and thought an emotion at Rachel. Rachel understood immediately, so she exhaled, turned to her Apprentice and kissed her. Clare kissed back. Then Rachel separated from the cuddle. “I’ve had an idea. You’ll love it. Go into the bathroom, close the door and wait until I call.” The thrilled emotion hit Clare, and she readily went out of the bedroom. Rachel prepared…
“OK. You can come in now.” Clare emerged from the bathroom and looked around. There was no sign of Rachel. The bed had been made, but that was all. A thought hit Clare and she obeyed it, climbing into the bed. There was a sense of Rachel all around her, but she still couldn’t see her. It was then she noticed that the bed fitted her snugly – very snugly. She was being caressed all over, from pillow down to the end of her toes. “Have you guessed yet?” thought Rachel.
After a few seconds more caressing and fondling Clare caught on – “You’re the bed!”
“Yes. Ever been fucked by a bed?”
Playing along with the unanswerable questions, Clare answered “No.”
“You have no choice now. Feel my sheets. Feel my mattress. Feel my pillows. Feel me!” A bulge started feeling her between her legs, and mental stimulation caressed her deliciously. “Where are you?” Asked Clare, with what self-control she had left.
“I take it you mean where is my brain – I don’t really know. I suppose it’s at the top, under my mattress and near my headboard. Out of the way for sex, so no worries there.”
The bed/Rachel folded Clare in, and she became immersed in Rachel’s sheets and pillows and love. The bulge between her legs was now penetrating her, and stimulations flowed into her from all directions. Clare even felt – just – a link form all along her spine, because once it was established there was a massive surge of pleasure, and they were linked. The pillows became large breasts as they rolled in and over Clare’s face, the nipples entering her mouth and down into her lungs. One took air in, the other took it out, and the feeling of power and love/lust coming from the bed/Rachel was incredible. They were almost one being, desire and pleasure flowing back and forth between the two beings. Then something clicked in Clare’s mind, and she merged completely with Rachel, like two fluids mixing.
How long this composite being, Raclare, existed they didn’t know, but it was with regret and an indefinable loss they became separate beings again and Rachel softly withdrew all her connections to Clare. It hadn’t been normal sex, of course, but sex raised to a number set by Rachel’s powerful mind and Clare’s inexperienced enthusiasm – say five or six. Clare knew there was more to come, but that would have to wait until she was more experienced.
Then Clare felt/heard a disconnection, and somehow knew that Rachel has disconnected herself from the hotel’s power supply. Clare leaned over to see a cable snaking to nearby a power socket, where moments ago it had been inserted. Rachel had drawn power and energy from the electricity supply, and used it to feed their sex. Make that number revised; nearly ten or twelve or even higher. That was where Rachel was getting her power from.
“No.”
“Pardon?” asked Clare.
“I said ‘No.’ The power was me – I used the electricity for you. You needed it to survive me. I don’t play gently.” Clare remembered. She’d tingled and felt vibrant, but didn’t think it was coming from outside her.
“Right,” said Rachel in her mind. “It’s your turn. Look on this as a test. What can you come up with? You go in the bathroom again while I return this room back to normal – can’t have you learning how I do things yet – and then we’ll swap places and you create something. Run along, I want to change!” Clare got up and went into the bathroom. There was a temptation to watch through a crack in the door, but a thought from Rachel playfully – but with steel behind it – telling her not to try that trick, stopped her. “OK,” came Rachel’s voice. “It’s your go.”
Clare emerged from the bathroom and there was Rachel sitting on the end of the bed. All looked normal, and the bed was back to normal. Clare realised there had been a sort of mental glow coming from the Rachel-bed that wasn’t there now, and so she knew it was now just a bed. Rachel went into the bathroom, closed the door, and Clare started to put the plan she’d devised in the bathroom into action.
“OK Rachel, I’m ready – I think.”
Rachel emerged from the bathroom with her front – from neck to hips – full of breasts. There were six rows in all, each row a different colour. She had a single pair of legs, if you could call hinged metal poles with 12 inch suckers where the feet would be, legs. She had horns that curled around from her upper forehead to her ears again, matched with horse ears. Her arms were covered in silver scales, and each arm ended in eel-y fingered hands. Her mouth was forced slightly open by her fangs, two inches or so long, and her eyes were feline – yellow with vertical slits. Her horse’s tail flicked from side to side, showing off beautiful silver hair.
“What do you think?” She called. There was no sign of Clare.
“Clare?” Rachel extended her mind outwards and found something…
…Which descended from the ceiling where it had been lurking, onto Rachel with a cry midway between ecstasy and a snarl. Rachel had time for a quick impression of a totally red lithe human body with vulture’s wings before Clare grabbed Rachel in her great talons and took her out the window and up on to the roof. The exquisite pain of Clare’s talons digging into Rachel as she wriggled in their powerful grip drove her to orgasm on the way up, and then she was dumped on the roof. Now she could examine Clare more fully.
Clare stood on her talons, sharp and tainted with Rachel’s blood, with her eagle legs – stretched out to human length – twitching occasionally with power. She knew she was being observed. She had an enormous eagle tail, which almost touched the ground. Rachel was beginning to think that Clare had simply copied an eagle, until she looked up further. Clare had a scaled torso; not the scales of fish but the hard scales of reptiles. Her breasts, four of them, were hard and just invited Rachel to kiss and suck and caress them. Clare’s arms – all four of them – had feathers along the top and were without elbows. They were snakes with hands – metal grabs – instead of hands, and again oozed power. Her neck was stretched with giraffe markings, and her face was likewise. However, the beak – again eagle – did change things. Her hair was flowing bleached white, down her back to her hips, and her ears were giraffe – again with markings. She had little giraffe horns, and this was the bit that impressed Rachel, they were tipped with fire.
In a flash Clare decided that viewing time was over, so she spread her bat-like wings – again red – and jumped on Rachel and pecked and ripped at her breasts. Rachel screamed with ecstasy and agony, before arching her back – with the weight of Clare on her – and ejaculating violently out of her vagina. Clare ripped away all Rachel’s lower breasts, leaving only her true pair, before opening her beak and thrusting her powerful bird-tongue down Rachel’s throat with her beak open on Rachel’s cheeks. Rachel could feel – for she had her eel-y fingers all over Clare’s crutch – the bird-woman come in spurts. The edge of the beak lips were blunt, so Clare could close it until she held Rachel’s head firmly but lovingly as their tongues rubbed and fought and caressed each other.
Clare came again and released Rachel’s head to let loose a ear-splitting cry of eagle orgasm, so Rachel flipped her over and – with her newly grown horse penis – penetrated her roughly. In Clare’s enhanced state this was mind-blowing and all she could do was caw and caw at the night as Rachel pumped her full, pulling out Clare’s feathers from the bottom of her spine for good measure. Finally Rachel opened her mouth – too wide to be fully human – and sank her fangs deep into the giraffe neck. This folded over and the fire at the end of Clare’s horns dabbed and burned at Rachel here and there, giving off the stink of burnt scales. This drove them both into further episodes of ecstasy.
Eventually they lay side by side, bleeding all over the rooftop. Presently Clare got up, took Rachel in her talons – gently this time – and flew them back to the hotel room before the dawn came.
The TV clicked on, and Clara and Rachel awoke. They were back in fully human form, and there was no sign of blood or damage anywhere. “OK, time for the next number.”
“Before we go on,” said Rachel. “I wish to award Clara a commendation for her work last night.”
“Noted.” The wheel started spinning…
… and stopped. “It’s another Zuphong,” said the voice from the TV.
Clara knew what to do. She jumped out the window, grew wings, and flew rapidly away. Rachel had changed into a homing missile and zoomed after her. Being slower and more manoeuvrable, Clara moved upwards as Rachel whistled by, and something twigged in Clara’s mind. Thinking back to the damage they’d done to each other on the roof last night, and the lack of damage now, Clara decided to transmute into a biological homing missile and set off after Rachel, who was arcing around for another strike. Clara took off upwards, on a jet of flame, and Rachel shot past where Clara had been a moment before, then flew around and up after the Clara-missile. Clara was faster, but had less staying power – which was as she wished it – so she climbed steadily, drawing away from the Rachel-missile, then flipping over in a 180 degree manoeuvre and heading straight back for Rachel.
The two hit and exploded.
The two women were on the bed, whole and unharmed. They awoke.
“That was fucking stupid!” Came from the television. “If you hadn’t been rescued in time you might never have made it.”
Leaving aside how they’d been rescued and returned to the hotel room, Clara said playfully “Did I pass?”
“Yes, you did,” said Rachel. “But it was the most stupid, half-brained, idiotic, inventive solution I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t avoid the collision. I was on homing instinct, and so it was inevitable…” She tailed off, deep in thought. “Control,” Rachel said at last. “Are there any more Zuphongs?”
“We never know,” came the reply from the TV. “Round and round the wheel goes, where it lands nobody knows.”
“That’s really helpful.”
“It’s time for the next number.” The wheel span, and came to rest in 9.
“Oh good, a normal one,” said Rachel.
“What’s going to happen now?” Asked Clara.
“Oh, you’ll like this one.”
Clara could feel herself shrinking, her arms and legs becoming one with her body. She soon became a foot-high missile, and felt the need to buzz. So she did. Rachel grabbed her and thrust her between her legs, pleasuring herself with the Clara-vibrator. This went on for over an hour before Rachel dropped Clara, exhausted the both of them, on to the floor, where she slowly and surely returned to normal.
“Well,” came Rachel’s voice, “Did you enjoy that? Simple and sweet.”
Clarita came to her senses. “I suppose,” she said, “that was some sort of dominance lesson. Who’s Master and who’s Apprentice, that kind of thing.”
“There is that to it, yes. But did you enjoy it?”
“It was OK, I suppose.”
“That’s all?” Rachel looked disappointed.
“Yes, I’m afraid. I’ve done better. I didn’t have much choice in the matter.”
“I thought you’d like to see and feel how a Master can handle things without interference.”
“How do I gain anything from that?”
“You now know how to become electrical.”
“Was I? Let’s see.” Clarita looked down at her belly, where a flat rectangle formed around her belly button, which became a draw and slid open, showing a CD in the tray.
“Ooooh,” said Rachel, taking the CD before Clarita could do anything. “Let’s see what it plays.”
Rachel shut her mouth tight, then opened her rectangular mouth, and her tongue/tray slid out and she put the CD on it and withdrew it. Clarita felt that oneness with Rachel that she’d felt before – Raclarita was here again. Rachel felt her breasts, and Clarita felt them too. Rachel opened her tray/mouth and took out the CD and put it back in Clarita’s belly tray, where it slid back in and Clarita was back in her own body again.
“That was surreal,” said Clarita. “I felt… digitised somehow. I thought in zeroes and ones, and nothing else. It was only when I was in you that I merged back to biology.” She paused, thinking. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how else to phrase that.”
“Don’t worry,” said Rachel, her mouth back to normal. “You’re going to encounter a lot of this. It’s a whole new language, and you’ll have to translate it into English, or emotions, until you understand.”
“Next number,” said the voice on the TV. The wheel span, and the ball landed in zero.
“I didn’t know there was a zero on the wheel,” said Clarita.
“There is now,” was Rachel’s reply. “It’s time for your first assignment.”
“Assignment? Who said anything about an assignment?”
“Clarita, look at me.” Clarita did. “Sleep time.” Clarita slept.
Clarissa woke, and the TV was on. It was 7:30am, according to the clock on the bottom left of the screen, and Clarissa had second-guessed room service again, a skill she’d picked-up years ago. Sure enough, the call came through less than a minute later. She looked around. The room looked normal; the window was closed. There was no sign that anyone else had been in the room last night – surely they would have been picked up on the security cameras?
She had a shower, got dressed, and went down for breakfast. Normal, nothing changed from yesterday. In the shower she’d tried to grow some wings but nothing had happened, the same with some horns. Just the same old Clarissa straining in the shower, feeling an idiot. Dreams; they could seem so real!
After breakfast she returned to her room to pack and get off, via a taxi, to the bus depot, there to catch the 10:30 Greyhound west. All her belongings were there, ticket, money, passport, A Limey’s Guide To America, and her clothing. All nicely fitting in a rucksack, everything as it should be.
It had been routine. The taxi had been hassle-free, and the bus had turned up on time. Now she was watching – still not used to being on the wrong side of the road! – the traffic as the endless supply of it came and went. If only this 55 speed limit could be upped, she thought. Something like the Autobahns in Germany – maybe not unlimited, but these roads were surely designed for at least a hundred! Oh well… She put her folded coat against the window, rested her head against it, and dozed the miles away.
Clarissa was woken by a loud and familiar voice whispering earnestly in her ear “We’re on!” She sat back just in time to feel the bus decelerating rapidly, and then a bump.
“It’s all right folks,” shouted the driver down the bus. “It’s just a little hit. We’ve had a crash, but no harm done.” He could tell because the bump had only been at about 5 miles an hour, thanks to his skill. Considering he’d had nowhere to go, he’d done very well.
Clarissa got off the bus with all the other passengers to stretch their legs. There was a pile-up, which they’d hit, and it didn’t look like it would be cleared for some time. A fog had turned up from somewhere, probably to see what was going on and cause hassle, which was normal for a fog. That’s strange, thought Clarissa, I don’t normally think about fog in that way. Her heckles were up – something was wrong here.
Then the shit hit the fan. Something, only dimly outlined in the thick fog, burst out and upwards out of the three piled-up cars in the middle of the carriageway. Then she felt a presence beside her, and turned to look into Rachel’s face.
“Hi,” said Rachel. “This is our show.”
“What?”
“We’re on. We have a job to do. Follow me.”
With that she ran towards the piled-up cars. Clarissa followed, wondering if a) this was madness and b) if not what would happen next. She soon found out.
A beam of bright light shone on Rachel, who’d grown powerful eagle wings and was trying to fly up and out of it. Instinctively Clarissa grew the same wings – like Master, like Apprentice – and flew to help Rachel, who was now being shot at by sound bullets. The firer of this weapon soon noticed Clarissa and started on her, but she’d created a sound shield. Rachel had tried to as well, but had been blasted before hers could form properly, and was gently spiralling down. Clarissa flew in to catch and carry her friend down to earth, while hiding her behind her own shield – just in time. A loud bullet hit and exploded, but was dissipated by the shield and Clarissa only felt a hint of the force used.
On the ground she lay Rachel down, touched her where the sound had done the most damage – ears and eyes – and found she had healing hands. She could feel the energy flowing out of her into Rachel’s head, and felt her curing treatment repair Rachel’s wounds. Rachel sat up, said “Thanks, let’s go” and was off again. Clarissa felt the genuinely felt sentiments via the mental link and followed, sound shield up and ready. This time Rachel and Clarissa got close enough to see what was firing at them, and Rachel got off an anti-sound shot which took the sound cannon out.
“We’re in!” She called, mentally, and flew down and in to the hole where the thing had come out of. Clarissa followed, and found themselves descending into a black pit of nothingness, apart from gently glowing green walls. Then the vertical tunnel became horizontal and they were in…
“Watch out,” called Rachel. “This will seem different to us. Keep a link – we’ll keep reality for both of us.” OK, so it wasn’t entirely real, but Hell was pretty much the same for everyone – the classical vision of red everywhere, flames and devils torturing people with tridents and other pointy weapons. Clarissa looked at Rachel, just at the same time as a “Match what I become” message came through the mental link.
Rachel was a naked devil, all red with bat wings, a tail with a triangle on it, horns on her head, and goaty lower legs and hooves. Clarissa followed suit, and after a quick glance from Rachel “Well done!” they were on their way.
“This is a good disguise,” thought Rachel. “No-one, not even these ‘devils’, look twice at other ‘devils’.”
“But where are we really?”
“A realm of fantasy and reality – and it’s breaking through. Thought is very powerful here, and can have a serious effect on things. We have to find and close the portal being used. Dramatic, I know, but this is what you’re being trained for.”
A powerful pulse of eroticism hit the women, then another. Rachel thought at Clarissa “Fight it! Think of the name of your locally elected representatives of government. Think in long verbose sentences, that helps as well. Anything that kills your sex drive for now – count in threes, think of The Rolling Stones naked, have a piss, anything. We’re nearly there.”
They dived in to the centre of the pulses, which were becoming harder and harder to fight. Then suddenly they were in a null, and they realised they were inside the generator of the pulses – a giant water tank-like structure, a couple of hundred yards across, with fire and strange machinery combining to produce the heat of orgasm and send it out in a circular pulse.
They flew to a fire-free floor, and stood side-by-side.
“I’m sorry,” said Rachel, “but I’ve just got to do this.” She turned to Clarissa, put her arms around her and grabbed her wings, then pulled her in for a massive kiss. Clarissa couldn’t help but react to this sudden show of passion, and in a minute they’d burned off all their accumulated desire. Separating and panting, Rachel touched Clarissa’s cheek softly, then said. “Come on, we’re nearly there.” She walked towards a door.
“How do you know that’s the way?”
“It just is. Instinct, and homing skills.”
They went through, Rachel shrinking her wings to only a couple of feet across, so Clarissa did likewise. “There won’t be any traps from here on in,” said Rachel. “It’s all too easy. The cause of this is not fully sentient, and doesn’t understand the concept, so it gets it wrong every time. It only takes some effort to get past the outer defences and it’s all done and dusted. Here we are.”
“That’s it?” said Clarissa, pointing to a simple lever in the floor.
“Yup. Go on girl, you pull it.”
Clarissa did. There was a whooshing and rushing and swirling of wind and then suddenly Clarissa was beside the bus. The fog had gone, and so had Rachel.
“Are you alright miss?” It was the driver. Clarissa was sitting with her back against one of the wheels of the bus. “You had a dizzy turn.”
Clarissa did a quick inventory of her feelings – all present and correct. “Yes, thank you. I’m fine now. Thank you very much for your concern.” She got up, a bit wobbly, and walked over to the other passengers.
“They’re clearing the last of the pile-up,” said the driver. “Shouldn’t be long now.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” It didn’t take long for the last of the damaged cars – no-one killed or seriously injured, luckily – to be removed and soon they were on their way. That evening, in a hotel hundreds of miles west from the one Clarissa had had all her adventures, she slept.
There was a click, a pause of a couple of seconds, then “Welcome back. We’ll spin the wheel after these messages.” Melissa rubbed her eyes, and stared at the TV. Had she heard right? Rachel came in the room. She hadn’t knocked, or indeed opened the door. She’d just entered, and sat on the bed beside Melissa.
“Well, what do you think of your first assignment?”
Melissa looked at Rachel. “It was real?”
“Oh yes. Very real. I’ve given in my report of your conduct and you’ve got high marks. I especially like the bit where you were a sexy devil and I kissed you.”
Melissa smiled. She’d had a strange dream of pushing through some fog, then all was clear and here she was. More changes had taken place.
“You’re very nearly there,” said Rachel. “One more spin of the wheel and it’s all over.” As if on cue the adverts finished and the programme returned.
“We spin,” said the voice over the rotating wheel, “for Melissa, who has come through a lot, and changed a lot, to be here tonight.” The ball was sent on its way. Melissa stared at the screen, and the ball stopped in its tracks, with the wheel turning beneath it.
“Where should it land?” She said, turning to Rachel. “I don’t want another Zuphong.”
“Ah,” said Rachel. “You shouldn’t have done that. Let go of the ball and have another look at the wheel.”
Melissa did so and slowed the wheel down to have a look – it was all Zuphongs! What to do?! What to do?! Melissa panicked. She didn’t fancy another duel with Rachel, something told her this one would be a lot harder than the last. In blind panic she thought…
…And the single ball became 36 balls, and each one slotted itself into a Zuphong slot. Nothing happened. Melissa looked at Rachel. Rachel shrugged her shoulders, and looked back at the screen. The balls were starting to melt, taking the wheel with them. It was as if they were watching a butter castle melt in the morning sun.
“A winner!” came from the TV.
Rachel was applauding Melissa so hard it seemed as if her hands would be shaken off the end of her arms. Then she threw her arms – hands still attached – around Melissa shoulders and upper back and kissed her, her forked tongue slipping in and out erotically. Melissa tongued back, with the same sort of tongue, and they fell on the bed.
A fanfare erupted from the TV. Rachel stood up, and suddenly was wearing a beautiful ermine gown, set with jewels and gold. She had her goat horns again, and these were gilded with gold. She extended out a beautiful pair of golden eagle wings from her back, and theatrically snapped her fingers.
They were elsewhere, in a large courtroom. Rachel went and stood to the left of the judge’s seat, while the presenter of the quiz game – so long ago – walked in and took his place to the right of the judge’s seat. There was no-one else there.
A fanfare sounded again, and in to the jury’s box walked Tanya, and then Tonya, then Toni, then Terri, then Treena, then Katty, then Katharine, then Kathy, then Claire, then Clare, then Clara, then Clarita, then Clarissa, then Melissa…
“Hey wait, that’s… not me” said Mel changing for a final time. “But a jury normally has twelve – there’s fourteen of… me.”
“Twelve is a magic… no, twelve is a special number,” Rachel told her. “fourteen is reserved for full juries. The twelve of a jury plus the Defence and Prosecution equals fourteen. There is no Defence and Prosecution here, so two more for the jury. Take your seat.” Rachel indicated the judge’s chair.
Mel shrugged her shoulders, knowing that Rachel had told her via the mental link that she had no choice, as this would happily go on until the end of Time if she didn’t.
Mel took her place.
There were no speeches. There was just a piece of paper that materialised in front of Mel. She read it, and then everyone applauded. Mel was in a simple white gown. No garnishing whatsoever. None was needed. She has passed. As simple as that.
Now she was back at the hotel room. Rachel was there. The TV was off. A roulette wheel was symbolically smashed in one corner.
“Mel,” said Rachel innocently. “I recon that test with you as an eagle-woman was your best exam result. Do you think you could do better?”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Equal to equal?” Mel felt the thrill of the challenge from Rachel, and knew she’d agreed when Rachel melted off her gown and stood there naked, fully human with no enhancements. Mel did the same. Fresh tapestries, crying out to be painted on by artists.
Rachel went first. Her head went fuzzy for a few seconds, then it was back – no, there were two heads. They spoke in unison “Good start eh? Your go.” Mel thought for a few seconds, then burst out a four foot long penis from her groin. Rachel laughed in stereo until it seemed that she would burst, then Mel withdrew her large phallus and started in earnest.
Starting at the top, she grew two large goat horns, curling around from above her eyes to beside her ears. This was her tribute to her former Master, who acknowledged the compliment mentally. Now the meat. Her hair became thorns, dark green and extremely pointy. Two butterfly antennae grew up and out from her forehead. Her eyes split up the middle, creating four. These split, then again and again, becoming smaller and starting to bulge. Compound insect eyes now dominated the top of her head, and her nose merged with her mouth to become a thrusting forward dragon muzzle, with fire hinted at by the smoke coming out of her nostrils set on top. She opened her mouth to reveal two rows of nasty sharp teeth, with a powerful erotic tongue ready to thrust down any willing throats nearby. Her skin had hardened into tree bark, but much tougher. This covered her neck down onto her upper chest. She grew enormous beautiful multi-coloured butterfly wings, but made of steel, from between her shoulder blades, and flapped them. After a pause to catch her mental breath, she doubled her shoulders – one in front of the other – and made her four arms of thick high power high voltage cable, with five flexible scalpels as the hand.
Her breasts she enlarged, then split the centre third off from each to form a third between. These split horizontally and she had six beautiful C-cup breasts, perfectly arranged on her chest. These she left human, with natural skin colouring, thinking that this couldn’t be improved on. Below these she became pure robot – metal ribs down to her hips, sinuously moving like a dancing cobra. Her genitals became oh-so-desirable, throbbing with come-hither, and Rachel buckled at her knees at this. Mel’s hips became industrial joints, and her legs snapped into girders with more industrial joints at the knee. Below the knee the girders melted seamlessly into eagle talons with razor-sharp scalpels for claws. Oh, she’d forgotten something. A powerful Raptor tail grew out from the base of her spine, eventually reaching the floor and swiping from side to side with pure power.
“Top that, she hissed with just a hint of fire from her nostrils.”
Rachel smiled from left and right. Her two necks were positioned at the top of a Y-shaped spine, with the heads vertical at the top of this. She grew feline ears on both, something Mel had missed, who immediately grew small receiver dishes. Then Rachel grew horns, but unicorn horns, one from the centre of each forehead. Her hair was bleached white and reached down the side of her head, to curl in at her jaw level. Her eyes turned feline, and her nose became merged with her mouth to form an antelope muzzle. Her mouth opened to show her shark teeth, and her forked tongue flicked in and out between the extended fangs set at the top middle of her upper jaw, but about two inches apart. These tapered to points, set to inject poison into any handily available neck.
Her own necks grew in length by about a foot, moving like cobras, her tribute to Mel’s cobra-like metal waist, which Mel mentally acknowledged back. Then arching out and above her head she grew two enormous gargoyle wings, black with menace. Her skin changed to pure white marble at this, and shone as if it had been freshly cut and polished. She shrugged her shoulders, and her arms became pythons, with vicious fangs in vicious powerful mouths. She covered her torso with scales, and her breasts became short, pyramid-shaped spikes, with tips of cattle prods – obviously set to give a lot of amps.
In tune with her cobra arms, the rest of her torso became all muscle, as flexible as an eel. Her tail burst out, shark-like with fins of razor-edge steel. This shot backwards at speed, as she became centaur with more of her torso as the new back and the extra legs – still human – grew down to catch the weight.
Mel waited, but that was it. “No more?” She asked.
“No, I like human legs.”
“I don’t like these eyes after all,” said Mel. “I can hardly make sense of what I see.” They withdrew back into her face, and then extended on stalks – like snail feelers – and became falcon eyes, flexing and folding around a few inches out from her face.
“This is better,” she said. “It’s weird! Right, I’m now ready.”
“So am I,” said Rachel in unison with herself.
“Fine. Where shall we do battle?”
“Battle? I just want to make love with you.”
Cottoning on, Mel turned her skin ultra sensitive, and Rachel immediately sensed this. She did the same. She also grew a ten-inch penis between her front legs and said, gleefully, “Let’s get it on!”
“That’s OK by me,” said Mel, eyes wheeling around to point and focus on Rachel.
They did.
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