Personal Demons by Nomdreserv (SW, plus others)

[TheoW]

Personal Demons

By Nomdreserv

Part 9

It was again late in the evening when Yuri and Kei, both back to normal size and having escorted Callista safely to her own home, returned to their apartment. Kei, feeling edgy and unsettled since she hadn’t had a chance for her regular workout, prepared to go running again, and started changing into her jogging clothes. Yuri headed immediately for her room, pulling her shirt off along the way.

“Bob must have screwed up my clothes. My bra is killing me,” she explained over her shoulder, dropping the tight shirt on the floor. She was reaching around to the clasp as she disappeared from sight. “Ahhh! That’s better. Whoa. I think they may have gotten a little swollen from being squeezed. Yeah… and a little … ooh! Mmmm.”

Kei listened to this monologue with growing interest but also frustration. Was Yuri trying to tease her? Could she really not know what she sounded like – or the effect her suggestive words and tones produced?

Yuri’s voice was moving in her room. “That feels soooo much better.”

“Um, Yuri?” Kei’s voice sounded unexpectedly squeaky. She cleared her throat and started again. “Yuri, are you ok?”

There was a hurried rustle inside Yuri’s room, and a second later, she reappeared, wearing just an oversized nightshirt. Kei couldn’t help staring at the obvious impressions poking out the front, and felt a strange, answering tingle which called her own nipples to attention before spreading through the rest of her body.

“Damn!” she whispered.

“What?”

“Um, nothing. I asked if you were OK?”

“Oh, sure. I'm, like, fine. Whatever.” Yuri shifted her feet nervously. “So, like, what are you going to do? Go to bed?” There seemed to be a hopeful note in her voice.

Kei recognized a growing sexual frustration adding to her edginess from lack of exercise. She started her pre-running stretches.

“Nah. I need to work some of this stuff off.” She glanced at the clock. It was two hours before Yuri’s usual lights out. “You’re not ready for bed already, are you?”

“Ready for…?” Yuri glanced longingly back into her room. “Me? Bed? No, of course not. I'm not ready for … um, no, I'm not tired. Nooo.”

To prove her point (and self control), she switched the TV on, grabbed a peach iced tea from the fridge, and settled onto the couch to watch. The fact that she had switched on the cartoon network didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest.

Kei paused in mid stretch, to regard Yuri – and the TV - with some surprise.

“No philosophy again?”

“I'm too tired to read.”

“No meditation?”

“Too boring. I just need something to relax.”

“You want to come with me?”

Yuri perked up but seemed nervous at the same time. “C…come with you?”

“Running.”

“Oh.” A disappointed grimace. “Oh. No, thanks. I’ll just stay here and, um … well, I’ll just stay here.”

“All right.”

Kei was still stretching. That weird tingle was moving around inside her again, and it just made her feel … off. She carefully tightened her running shoes a little more since they seemed loose after her first stretches.

Yuri also seemed a little nervous as Kei prolonged her warm-ups – almost as though she was eager to see Kei leave. She was squirming a little on the couch.

“You should get going though,” she prompted. You should take a nice, long run.”

Kei delayed a few seconds longer. There was something else bothering her, something they had forgotten. Suddenly, it came to her.

“Shit! Yuri, we never reported in.”

“What?” Yuri asked, still clearly distracted.

“The anomaly last night. Our node setup today. Assignment for tomorrow.”

“Oh, God,” Yuri moaned, seeming very agitated and frustrated at the prospect of going out on business. She was still squirming impatiently. “Now? Can’t we, like, just wait until morning?”

Kei hesitated. They could wait. They weren’t even on duty at the moment. It was very unlike Yuri to not insist on doing everything precisely and ahead of time, but the very fact that she sounded so desperate probably meant they should indulge her.

“Sure.” She squinted a little. Yuri’s hair looked even lighter this evening, and that seemed odd given the indoor lighting. “That shampoo must take a while to work, huh?”

“Huh?” Yuri barely looked up, and Kei could have sworn she was surreptitiously rubbing herself again. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Taking her cue to be alone, Kei headed out. It had been a long, strange 24 hours, and Yuri was entitled to be a little tired or distracted.

That being said, it was still hard not to think back pleasantly on the mental images of Yuri naked and doll-sized, or nearly naked and lounging around the apartment the way she was. It was almost as though…

She shook her head, reprimanding herself for even considering it. It was just an indication of how comfortable Yuri was with her – she needed to stop reading more into it. True, if Kei didn’t value her so highly as a partner and friend, she would be tempted to do something about it. Alas, those feelings were best kept to fantasies that couldn’t hurt or offend anyone.

And in that spirit, to entertain herself while she ran, she proceeded to conjure a veritable fantasy harem populated by naked Yuris at all kinds of sizes, and performing acts which the normal Yuri would never have imagined or possibly even recognized.

The current Yuri, of course, was an entirely different matter.

In any case, she had barely gone a few hundred meters and just hit her stride (both in running and fantasies) before she abruptly tripped over her cuffs. She cursed, assuming they had slipped or pulled on something, and stopped to tug them back up, only to find that even with the waistband sitting above her hips (and loosely at that), the cuffs were sagging over the tops of both shoes. She stood up, and saw how baggy and long her pants were, then held out her arms and felt her sleeves slide down over the hands.

“Shit!”

It was obvious what had happened, and she sent several long, physically improbable profanities onto the night air in Bob’s direction. She made one more half-hearted attempt to keep running, but her loose shoes and ridiculously oversized pants just made a normal run impractical. Tying the drawstring of her pants as tightly as she could, and rolling the cuffs up, she started back home.

She had to stop a couple of times along the way to tighten the laces on her shoes again, and the run back took noticeably longer than the run out, but she still made it back in excellent time. She jumped up the stairs (only managing one at a time instead of her usual two) and burst angrily into the room.

“Goddamn it! You would not believe what…”

She stopped as she heard a surprised cry. A second later, Yuri scrambled off the couch and onto her feet, smoothing her shirt down over her body frantically.

“Kei!” Her voice was high and stressed, and her cheeks were flushed. “You’re back!”

She realized her appearance looked strange, and she tried to bring her voice back to normal. She brushed at her shirt as though making sure it covered everything. “I mean, of course you’re back. Why wouldn’t you be back?” A pause, and slightly plaintive note. “But why are you back so soon?”

“Are you kidding?” Kei asked. “Look!”

She again adopted her spread-eagle pose to emphasize how long and baggy her clothes were. Yuri looked puzzled.

“You’re shrinking again?”

“Not again,” Kei growled. “Isn't it obvious? Rhodes didn’t change me back all the way.”

“But…but you looked all right before.”

“Sure. That’s because he shrank our clothes too. You said it yourself. Yours were tight, but mine felt fine. I didn’t fucking notice until I put on my running clothes. Look at me!”

She let her sleeves slide over her hands, and her baggy pants were accordioned over her legs, giving her the appearance of a little girl in her father’s workout gear.

Yuri still looked doubtful. “Are you sure?”

Kei stalked over to her and stopped, chin to breast, tilting her head up to emphasize the discrepancy in their heights.

“Pretty sure.”

Yuri shook her head. “It’s just funny we didn’t notice it before.”

Kei grumbled. “Fuck! I was so small before, anything close to my normal height must have seemed OK. Now, everything else looks so … so …”

She was going to say “big” but became distracted by the slight jiggling underneath Yuri’s shirt. Big wasn’t a strong enough word. Her current perspective placed her nearly at chest level, and combined with her loss of size, Yuri’s breasts looked truly enormous. She felt another tingle.

And her pants slipped to the floor.

“Damn!” She pulled them back up, finding the drawstring inexplicably loose. “I thought I tied these things tighter.”

“Never mind,” Yuri sighed. “You want to go back now, or wait until morning?”

Kei looked back up from her struggle with her pants. Damn! Had Yuri’s breasts gotten even bigger in the last few seconds? Gorgeous, full globes, suspended at eye level for perfect viewing. She could just make out the thimble-sized nipples and the faint outline of silver-dollar sized areolas around them. So enticing, so close…

She swallowed hard and pulled her eyes away, looking down, around – anywhere but there. No, she couldn’t do that. Yuri was too important to her. At the same time, she felt a warmth in her lower body that could no longer be denied. She needed to get some private time of her own, even if it meant postponing her size restoration, or her lust would overwhelm her principles.

“You know,” she suggested slowly, finally letting her eyes wander back up to Yuri’s face. “I'm thinking tomorrow morning would be fine. That will give us … them a chance to sleep.”

“Righttttt. Sleep,” Yuri nodded eagerly. “Great idea. Right, well, I'm going to get right to getting to sleep right away.” She all but bolted for her room.

Kei bent down to retrieve something she’d noticed on the floor while averting her eyes. “Yuri?”

Yuri stopped and turned. Kei held her panties out to her with a knowing smile.

“You, um, must have dropped these.”

Yuri accepted them with a blush.

“You know,” Kei smirked. “If you keep handing me your panties, I'm going to get the wrong idea.”

Yuri had already turned and stalked off to her room, but mumbled something in reply.

The odd thing was, Kei was almost sure it had been, “Promises, promises.”

Kei was all but trembling by the time she’d ripped her loose clothes off and opened her drawer to pick one of her many toys. It was very disconcerting to be nose-level to the drawer – it seemed she even smaller than she’d thought at first – but she stepped up on her tiptoes and peeked inside. One positive side effect adding to her excitement was the apparent increased size of her dildos and vibrators. She hefted a couple of the larger ones in awe. These had gone from large to super-size - some seemed almost two feet long! She picked up a favorite gel one that came with an extra wide tip and caressed it in amazement. It combined the best qualities of firmness and pliability, and both vibrated and rotated. It was a favorite under ordinary circumstances, but now seemed to be about 16 inches long and as wide around as her hand.

This was going to be amazing! Maybe Rhodes had known what he was doing after all.

She should have been more concerned about the fact that her bed seemed even taller than when she had first entered the room, but was too excited about her anticipated session with her jumbo sex toy. She was already quite wet, but given the size of her dildo, she decided a little extra lubrication wouldn’t hurt. She ran her hand along it lovingly as she applied the super-silicone gel, enjoying the rubber cock’s feel and wondering just for a second what touching a real one would be like. Though, perhaps not surprisingly, her fantasies there automatically “attached” the appendage to an otherwise unmistakably female body; in this case, imagining Yuri wearing just that nightshirt with her giant breasts poking out the top and a giant cock poking out the bottom.

That mental image was all she needed, and she carefully inserted the vibrator, eliciting both a slight wince and a high pitched moan. It was almost too big to take in at this size, especially the bulbous head, and she had to gently work it partway in and then out again before she was able to accommodate it. Even when the tip had made it inside, it was very, very tight, but gloriously so. She worked the shaft in and out a little more, enjoying the feeling of fullness and transmitted pressure, then turned on the vibration.

Her feet shot out and her toes pointed at the sensation, and it was all she could do not to scream. The vibrations were also doubly powerful, and seemed to rock her whole pelvis from the inside out. The extra tight fit also meant even more transmission than usual to her sensitive clit, and she had barely moved the shaft around a few times in delight (while also closing her eyes in fantasy, imagining an illogically well hung Yuri lying on top of her) before her body arched into its first orgasm.

This also seemed magnified, as though compensating for her reduced size, and she rolled helplessly onto her side as the climax wracked her body. She released her hold on the dildo, but there was no chance of it slipping out given how tightly it was lodged inside her now. Indeed, if anything, it seemed to be getting even tighter inside her, no doubt because of her physical contractions, increasing the pleasure yet again, this time almost beyond endurance. Before she knew it, the first climax had cascaded into a second and then a third orgasm as the vibrator continued its relentless massaging of her over-tight pussy. She couldn’t keep silent any more, and began moaning, then screaming as she came and came again, too lost to notice the rising pitch in her voice or the way her head was slipping off the pillows.

She was rolling around the bed helplessly now (and not noticing how far she could roll without reaching the end), still squeaking in passion, as she slid right into a fourth and then a fifth orgasm, but by then, as she lay panting and exhausted, she felt the first intimations of pain from the overlarge dildo. She reached down to switch it off.

And found out she couldn’t reach the switch.

She straightened out her body and opened her eyes, looking down between her legs, then let out a scream of a different kind.

The vibrator seemed to have doubled in size, and was nearly as long (and thick) as her leg! A second later, of course, she realized it meant she was still shrinking, an impression confirmed when she noticed the bed seemed 20 feet long underneath her. She tried to roll and twist to reach the end of the vibrator, but the control switch was well out of reach. Although it was only near toe level, the shaft was too rigid to bend or pivot on – at least while it was stuck inside her. It was like trying to touch the wheel of a unicycle while riding it. The exertion did seem to drive it in a little deeper, and she yelped as the first spasm of real pain hit her. The bulbous tip was probably about double fist-size now.

And it was still getting bigger.

She felt another spasm, and watched in amazement as the dildo seemed to grow before her eyes, spreading her legs – and her increasingly uncomfortable sex – as it swelled. It was positively obscene now – longer and wider than her leg and distending her pussy to its limit, while stretching her labia to pencil thinness in a perfect circle, as though her nether lips were making their own version of a wide-mouthed “O” of astonishment. She reached her hands around the part of the shaft she could reach, noticing with dismay that her hands couldn’t quite reach around it, grunted and tried to ease it out.

Another jolt of pain, and she was panting again. The damned tip was too big! She pulled again gently, then more urgently, bulging her labia out around the bulbous tip of the toy, then screamed and tried to force it, drawing only a shooting pain that made her immediately let it go.

It was no good. With this angle, and not being able to get a good grip on the shaft, she couldn’t manage it. She tried to use her feet to switch it off, then changed her mind and grabbed the end between them, wrapping her legs around it and pulling again, looking almost as though she climbing a tree.

Except this tree was splitting her open! Another spasm, and she cursed as her feet slipped. The damn thing was too slick from all that gel she used to get a good grip. She panicked a little as the girth seemed to swell just a bit more. Even at rest it was becoming unbearable. Worse, it was still vibrating. By this time, she could feel the shaking all through her body, even through to her back, and thought the end of the shaft might be literally shaking her spine. Indeed, her breasts jiggled ominously as the vibrations continued on into her chest and began to rattle her teeth.

Death by dildo. As many dangers as she had faced, both real and imagined, Kei had to admit: she’d never seen that one coming.

The morbid joke and growing pain finally overcame her embarrassment and even more her anticipation of the episode becoming a lifelong source of ridicule. Trying to keep her voice steady – not easy through the sex toy’s vibrations and her own pain - she began to call out.

“Yuri. Yuri!” Her voice was ridiculously high pitched, but also noticeably weaker, and she suddenly realized with real fear that she might not be able to make herself heard. “Yuri! Godfuckingdamn … YURRRRRIIIII!” she screamed.

In a panic, she tried to sit up, feeling the weight of a now 4 foot dildo hold her back. Ignoring the pain, she managed to roll and drag it to the edge of the bed, a bizarre appearance indeed: a tiny woman the size of a toddler, with a sex toy as large as her whole body protruding obscenely between her legs and, for good measure, merrily vibrating her whole body into a blur as she crawled. Even when she reached the bed’s edge, she faced an 8 foot drop to the floor. She hesitated, fearing what would happen if she landed on her “extra leg.”

And then to her immense relief, Yuri threw the door open. Dressed only in a rumpled shirt, she looked decidedly flushed, sweaty, and not a little annoyed.

“What?” she demanded angrily, looking around without seeing Kei. “What the fuck is so important that …?” As her eyes made their second sweep of the bed, they finally latched onto the undersized figure and her bizarre predicament. Her expression immediately shifted to horror. “Kei? Oh my God, Kei!”

“Little help?” Kei asked weakly, her voice helium high and weak, wincing again as another spasm swept her.

Yuri rushed to her side, reached for the vibrator, then seemed to hesitate. Whether it was simply the understandable awkwardness of removing another woman’s masturbation toy, or that she instinctively realized the pain it might cause, she twisted her hands nervously.

“Umm, are you sure you want me…?”

Kei’s eyes flew wide. Her voice was deadly serious despite the comical effect of her squeaky pitch. “Are you kidding? Get it the fuck out of me!”

“Um, right. Let’s see…”

Yuri first switched it off, which at least gave Kei some relief. She tried pulling it gently but firmly, but only succeeded in dragging Kei along the bed after it, as though the tiny agent came equipped with a built-in handle.

“Owwww!” Kei complained, her sex bulging obscenely with the pressure.

“OK, just hang on,” Yuri soothed her. She reached down and carefully massaged the area above the pubic bone, easing the head of the dildo down and in, past the ridge of bone, and then angling it for easier removal. She then braced her palm against Kei’s tiny pelvis and began to pull more firmly.

Kei’s legs started kicking, slowly at first, then more and more wildly.

“Oh…oh…oh…OH…OHHHHHHHH – YIAHHHHHHH!” she screamed as it finally came loose with an audible and frightening “pop.” Kei’s final scream of release subsided into thankful whimpers. She threw herself back on the bed, her legs still splayed wide. “Oh, God, thank you!” she moaned.

Her sex still gaped wide after its stretching, looking twice its normal size. In fact, it looked as though it might never entirely recover, and under the circumstances, it was just as well she was a lesbian – she would probably have found any normal sized man considerably wanting after that experience.

Yuri stared in shock at her partner. She was between 2 and 3 feet tall, the size of a small child, which somehow made her proportionally large breasts and unmistakably womanly body look almost discordant. She was completely dwarfed by her bed, and obviously much smaller than before, proving she was still shrinking. That was cause enough for panic, without even adding in the fact that she had almost literally ended up impaled by one of her own sex toys.

“Are you all right?” Yuri demanded, trying to establish the basics.

Kei panted a few seconds before answering. She had closed her eyes in relief, her pelvis and aching sex still throbbing. “Yeah.”

“You’re sure?”

“Sure.”

“In that case…” Yuri snuck a peek at the deadly dildo in her hand and couldn’t resist a giggle.

Kei’s eyes flew open and shot daggers. “You think this is fucking funny?”

Yuri shook her head dutifully but continued smiling. “No. Absolutely not.” She broke up again.

“Fuck, Yuri, this isn’t…” Kei broke off over how high and whiny her voice sounded. She saw Yuri standing there still holding the extracted vibrator in her hand like an obscene trophy and suddenly cracked a reluctant smile herself. “Shit! It is funny. Damn it.”

Yuri held the gel dildo up higher. “Designed for her pleasure and comfort,” she said, as though making a sale.

Kei felt a sympathetic pain shoot through her sex, but laughed a little more. “Ow! Stop it.”

“Mmm,” Yuri pretended to lick the slick shaft. “Girl on a stick. The only problem is, what do you do with the stick afterwards?”

“Ow, ow, ow!” Kei rolled on the bed, feeling a twinge with each laugh. “I’ll tell you what you should do with the stick.”

“All right, all right. So what the hell happened?”

“Don’t know. I …I was just, ummm…” She brought her hands down as though to touch herself, and only then realized she was lying with her legs spread and her snatch gaping directly at Yuri while she spoke. Her eyes flew open, she sat up and brought her hands across her lap. “Oh, fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s OK,” Yuri reassured her. “I know.”

Based on her behavior all day, and the fact that she was clearly naked under her shirt, Kei guessed Yuri knew all too well.

“Yeah, well. I was doing it, and then this happened. Rhodes must have screwed me up big time.” She gestured at her immense bed and the now threatening size of her vibrator. It was only then she realized just how gigantic Yuri seemed as well. Her friend loomed above her like a giantess, seeming at least 15 feet tall. Not only that, her breasts stood out like a couple of hot air balloons under her shirt. Even accounting for her shrinking, she knew they were much larger than they had been. “Fuck! Yuri – you’re huge!”

“No, you’re just small.”

“Not that!” Kei stood up, but even standing on the bed, she was only chest level to her partner. Which in this case worked perfectly. She walked up and grabbed Yuri’s breasts in her hands. “These!”

They were immense – more than twice the width of her palms and very heavy, like lifting a couple of full, ripe melons. She could feel the stiff nipples underneath beneath the thin shirt fabric, also jumbo sized – thicker than her thumbs and almost as long.

Yuri yelped, though it was hard to tell if the reaction was primarily surprise, pain, or pleasure. She instinctively brought her own hands up to protect her breasts, and maybe for the first time realized herself how big they were. She hefted them uncertainly.

Meanwhile, Kei was studying Yuri’s face and hair. She could swear her hair was still getting lighter and longer. It showed definite blond streaks, and even the darker background had lightened to brunette.

“Is your shampoo supposed to still be working?”

“What?” Yuri was still massaging her breasts and seemed increasingly distracted.

“That shampoo you used to change your hair.”

Yuri stopped feeling herself up and tried to grab a lock of her own hair.

“Why do people keep talking about my hair? It’s …” Failing at the examination that way, she walked to see herself in the mirror. Her mouth dropped open. “Hey! What the hell? It changed color?”

Kei was amazed. “You haven’t noticed?”

Yuri was gawking at her new color and highlighting and shook her head. “I guess I noticed something different after my shower, but I, um, got distracted.”

Kei nodded. “Rhodes’ magic must have really gone crazy. It’s not supposed to do that at all.”

Yuri was looking thoughtful. Even through her increasing confusion she could tell something was wrong.

“Kei, I don’t think these changes are from Bob.”

“Fucking hell! Look at me!” Kei sputtered.

Yuri was still thinking. “Yeah, shrinking, I know, but… last night. Remember your top slipping down? And I thought you looked different. I just wasn’t sure how.”

Kei thought of her strange dream, and one look at Yuri seemed to confirm the suspicion.

Bob’s magic didn’t have anything to do with it.

“Fuck – we’re spelled.”

Yuri nodded.

“Damn, Yuri. Who and when?”

Yuri shook her head. “I don’t know. It might just be a joke.”

With so many mages around, including those serving time in the CSA preparatory to magical studies, prank spells and curses were common.

“No way. They’d have been here to enjoy the reaction.”

“Then the an…anomaly last night. Has to be. As far as who?” She paused, closing her eyes in concentration, then snapped them open in angry frustration. “Damn!” She had almost had it, she was sure of it. She even thought she could hear the echo of a woman’s laughter in her mind, but perhaps that was just her own errant thoughts mocking her. She shook her head harder, as though trying to punish them. “It’s almost there, but I just can’t remember.”

She sat down on the bed without thinking, nearly causing Kei to roll into her given their very uneven weights. The tiny redhead felt unusually exposed and vulnerable sitting next to Yuri at this size, especially naked. She cleared her throat.

“Hey, hand me my panties, would you?”

Yuri jumped guiltily. “Oh, sure. Sorry.” Subconsciously, she realized she was actually enjoying having Kei naked and close.

Kei accepted the panties, went to slip them on, and only belatedly realized they were three times the width of her hips. She put them on anyway, holding them up comically, looking like she was trying to model bed sheet underwear.

“Oh, yeah. This’ll work,” she grumbled.

She took them back off, then put both legs through one of the leg holes, providing at least a closer fit, wrapped the rest of the panty around like a sarong, then sat down dejectedly.

“We have to report this,” Yuri said.

Kei felt a surge of panic. Being cursed with hostile magic was a definite embarrassment for an agent, both personally and professionally.

Showing up two feet tall and dressed only in an oversized panty was bringing it to a whole other level.

“No, wait. If we can figure out who and why, we can force them to …”

Yuri simply looked at her. It was enough. Even with her changes, Kei knew that look.

“Oh, fuck, all right. Damn.” An uncomfortable pause. “Can we at least wait a while?”

“Why?” Yuri was genuinely puzzled.

“My size keeps changing. I'm hoping maybe I can actually wear clothes when I go in.”

“You’re not usually so modest,” Yuri smiled.

“I’m not usually 2 feet tall.”

“I … guess,” Yuri relented, hoping perhaps her own transformation might be cyclic as well. She kept hoping the buzzing feeling in her head would clear, and had no particular desire to try to squeeze her new assets into her increasingly undersized clothes. She felt a pang for Kei’s compromised modesty. “Here. This may work better.” She handed Kei a shirt.

Kei slipped it on, and the shirt immediately dropped right over her body, since even the neck hole was wider than she was. She struggled and fussed with it a bit and managed to arrange it more securely, though even then it was like wearing a tent. She reappeared through the top to find Yuri lightly massaging her own breasts again, her eyes unfocused and content.

“Ahem.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Yuri dropped her hands guiltily. “It’s hard not to notice them now. They just feel so … so …”

“Yeah.” Kei was happily remembering her own brief opportunity to examine them. To be honest, it was all she could do to keep from grabbing them again. The feel of the pert nipples half the size of her hand had been unexpectedly erotic.

“And, my God,” Yuri continued in amazement. “They’re so heavy. I think I'm as big as you now.”

Kei eyed her with amusement. “Everything’s as big as me now.”

“You know what I mean.” Yuri pushed her good naturedly and succeeded in knocking her over. Kei became briefly lost inside her shirt again, and Yuri giggled in an unusually high, empty way before catching herself. “OK, let’s do this scienfitically.”

“Scientifically,” the muffled correction came.

“That’s what I said. Scienfitically.”

“Um, right.” Kei’s head reappeared looking worried. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“Oh, sure. Like, I'm not even sure I'm affected all that much. If it wasn’t for these big, wonderful boobs, I’d be like totally normal and stuff.”

“Normal? Your … boobs?” Kei asked, wondering at the normally refined and prim Yuri’s choice of words.

“You know, my tits,” Yuri giggled. “And to be honest, I'm beginning to kind of like them, you know?” She bounced up and down on the bed a little and watched them jiggle. “Aren’t they, like, totally awesome?”

Kei watched the hypnotic bouncing, her mouth going dry.

“Like, guys will totally notice me now,” Yuri added.

“Girls too,” Kei muttered.

This suggestion just brought another giggle. “You think so? Like, that might be cool too.”

“Yuri, don’t you think the spell might be affecting your mind?” Kei asked gently.

“Um, I don’t think so. I'm just sort of, you know, confused a little, but that’s like totally normal under these cicumstantials, you know?”

“So…you think this is normal?” Kei asked, indicating Yuri’s hair and ballooning breasts.

“Not normal normal,” Yuri giggled again. “But you know – sort of almost normal.”

“Right.” Kei made a silent note to herself. Mental effects with euphoria. That would make the full extent of the changes much trickier to monitor.

As they sat in silence for a few seconds, Kei noticed Yuri’s hands straying towards her breasts and crotch again. She needed something to keep her partner’s mind occupied and alert.

“So, how do we figure this out?” she asked briskly.

“Hmmm? What?’ Yuri’s eyes were unfocusing again.

“How much we’ve changed. How we’re changing,” Kei suggested. “We need to document things. Measure stuff. You know.” She tried to appeal to the usually brisk and unfailingly scientific part of Yuri’s mind. She just hoped it was still in there.

“Measure stuff?” Yuri frowned studying Kei’s tiny form, almost lost in the oversized shirt, then suddenly clapped her hands and smiled brightly. “I know! Let’s see how tall you are. That’s totally measuring something.” She searched the apartment and found a tape measure, than came to stand next to Kei expectantly. “Ahem.”

“What?”

“Like, I can’t measure you in that shirt.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t. Come on.” Yuri seemed almost eager to get Kei out of her clothes again.

“All right.”

Kei let the shirt slip around her and stood naked if somewhat nervously. Yuri made a small sigh of appreciation, then brought the tape measure next to her body. She carefully put the tape end next to Kei’s foot, then slowly, sensually snugged the rest of the tape flush against her body, taking particular care as she moved it against her bottom and chest. She hesitated for long seconds as she brought the tape next to Kei’s breasts, and the tiny woman was sure she was feeling for something more than the proper placement. Kei’s breasts were plum sized under Yuri’s fingers, and she seemed to be lightly touching them and pressing them with her palm under pretense of placing the tape exactly right. Her breath quickened, her eyes seemed lost, and she was clearly losing any residual interest in the tape measure itself.

“Um, Yuri?” Yuri?”

The eyes briefly swam back into focus, and Yuri blushed.

“Oh, sorry. They’re just so … I mean, you’re so … so cute.”

Yuri was leaning forward, all but thrusting her gigantic breasts into Kei’s face. Kei nearly gave in but steeled herself, remembering not only their friendship, but the fact that Yuri was under a spell.

“So, what’s the bad news?”

“Bad news?” Yuri was confused.

“My height. How am I holding up, partner?”

The use of the familiar professional sobriquet seemed to snap Yuri back. She cleared her throat and brought the tape into less intimate and more practical alignment.

“28 inches.”

“28 fucking inches? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Here, let me show you.” She put the tape next to her triumphantly. “No, wait.” Yuri wrinkled her brow. She had thought the tape was exactly on, but now it seemed short. “28 and a half.” She waited a few seconds. “Hey, 28 and three quarters. You’re getting bigger again.”

“Really?”

Kei felt a surge of relief, though it was tempered by the fact that everything looked just as big as before. Another few seconds, and Yuri nodded.

“29.”

“It’s so slow.” Essentially imperceptible, though continued measurements over a few minutes confirmed slow progress, maybe half an inch every few minutes. “I shrank a lot faster than this.”

“I wonder why? And why grow back at all? It’s almost like they want you shrinking for some specifical reason or something.”

“Torture,” Kei surmised grimly. “That way they can laugh at me as it happens over and over again.”

“But why? And I wonder what causes it? Like, what was the same last night and tonight?”

“And this afternoon. Maybe that one wasn’t Rhodes after all.”

“Right, just like he said. OK, what were you doing all those times?”

Kei thought back to the afternoon, and her teasing the naked, doll-sized Yuri, and then the interrupted shrinking last night, with her hoped for “encounter” with Callista, and finally, her near disastrous encounter with her vibrator.

“Sex. I shrink when I get excited or think about sex.”

“Oh my.” Yuri seemed worried. “Do … do you think mine might be the same way?”

“Your changes seem continuous.” A laugh. “So unless you’ve been thinking about sex all day and night…”

Silence.

“Yuri?”

“Well, maybe not all day…”

“Damn.”

“I thought I was just really horny after our talk last night. And then you were all walking around half naked, and then totally naked – like, my God! And then, Callista looked so good, I sort of thought, you know, and Bob – well, he’s so good looking, I was like totally squishy. And Karen has those great curves, and Lisa with those eyes, and …” She trailed off, as her own eyes went wide in realization. The movement suddenly made Kei aware that they had changed color as well, becoming more hazel instead of brown, yet another aspect of a total body makeover. “Kei, I'm attracted to women.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No, I mean I'm really attracted to women.” Her eyes fixed on Kei’s still naked body but more particularly her prominent breasts. Her breath started becoming irregular again, and she seemed to be fighting for control. “Maybe…maybe you’d better cover up again. You’re making me feel all tingly.”

Kei almost thought she could see more blond streaks magically appearing through Yuri’s hair, and worried any arousal would potentiate the curse magic. She quickly threw her blanket-sized shirt back over her body.

“That… that’s better,” Yuri sighed. The blond streaks seem to stabilize. She surprisingly covered her eyes and bowed her head. “Oh God! Kei, you don’t know what I was thinking. With you so small and helpless, I could have … have …”

Kei stood up and touched her friend’s arm. It was a surprising and almost comical picture to have the tiny woman trying to comfort a giantess.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing too. Hey, if I didn’t think you were under the influence, I’d be all over you.”

Yuri looked up wide-eyed, but almost in relief. “You would? Really?”

“In a second.”

“Oh, thank you!” Yuri swept the toddler-sized woman into her arms, completely engulfing her, and hugged her tightly.

Kei found herself buried and squeezed between Yuri’s abundant cleavage, as large as sofa cushions on either side of her head. It was also very disconcerting to find that her arms wouldn’t even reach past Yuri’s sides in the embrace when she tried to return the embrace. Kei wasn’t sure if Yuri’s relief was more for the confirmation of friendship or sexual attractiveness, but in either case, her partner’s size and enthusiasm were beginning to overcome her.

“Um, OK. Breathing is good,” she prompted.

“Oh, sorry.” Yuri released her and leaned back.

“No problem.” She eyed the giant, quivering breasts nicely presented at eye level. “There are worse ways to go. So, you were saying?”

“Oh, yeah. I've been so horny and confused all day, I only just now realized I'm lusting after the women as much as the men.” She seemed near tears. “Oh God, the spell turned me gay!”

Kei was a little put off. She automatically went back to her joke line, but a little more stiffly this time. “You say that like it’s … oh, never mind.” She knew what Yuri meant, and there was no point in taking offense. “And as far as changing you, I'm not sure about that.”

Yuri was still panicked. She seemed desperate to keep from looking at Kei, and any potential peeks her oversized clothes might provide.

“It has, it has! I'm gay. I'm totally gay!”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Kei snapped. As much as she loved Yuri, it was hard to take this kind of desperation and horror over a person’s sexual orientation. Especially when it was Kei’s own. “Didn’t you just say how much you were lusting after Rhodes?”

Yuri paused, remembering her unexpected attraction to Bob vividly. Even now, she thought of him with obvious appreciation.

“Yeah.”

“And when you were masturbating just now, what were you thinking about?”

Yuri blushed, recalling a particularly graphic scene she’d conjured involving the large and unmistakably masculine figure of Agent Darcy.

“See? I think it’s just sending your normal sexual urges into overdrive.”

“But, but…”

“Come on. You mean to say you’ve never noticed another woman?”

Yuri looked at her, then dropped her eyes in embarrassment.

“Yes?” Kei prompted.

“Well, maybe.” She paused a few seconds before adding softly. “You.”

Kei felt a wonderful surge of elation pass through her tiny body. Unfortunately, the same emotion gave her a tingle which seemed to instantly reverse her growth. She deliberately put the thoughts aside, trying to keep everything as clinical and non-erotic as possible.

“Glad to see my efforts were completely in vain,” she smiled, before becoming serious again. “Anyway, I thought so. Of course you have – everyone does. Hell, I've even thought about men once or twice. Well, once anyway. It’s completely normal – and one of the reasons I like to tease you so much. So, you see? The spell hasn’t changed you – it’s just released your inhibitions a little.”

Even Yuri had to smile through her fears. “A little?”

“OK, a lot.” Kei didn’t add her own fear about how much more she might continue to change before the spell ran its course. “Even so, it’s still you. Just … enhanced.”

A giggle. Yuri squeezed her huge breasts together. “I guess you could call them that.”

“So, where were we? My curse shrinks me when I get excited or think about sex. Figures. They must have assumed I’d shrink out of existence. And yours seems to be changing you into … into a …” She wasn’t sure how to phrase it delicately.

“A bimbo?” Yuri asked without any trace of being bothered.

“Um, yeah, I guess that’s one way of saying it.”

“Hmm,” Yuri seemed to struggling with her memories. “There’s something about that, but I can’t remember... Is it, like, bad to be a bimbo?” She got up and looked in the mirror, openly admiring her new body’s drop-dead curves. She looked more closely, and saw that her complexion seemed perfect, and her face even prettier than before. Her lips were fuller, and seemed to have more color, almost as though applied from within. She flipped her lightening hair quizzically, and decided it looked much better, fuller and longer in addition to the color. And her eyes – well, they were changing color and shape too, and looked like something off a magazine cover. Some people might have complained that the old brilliance and intelligence weren’t there, but on the other hand they did sparkle beautifully. She giggled a little more at the effect.

“I mean, like, so far, it seems totally awesome.”

“Right.” Kei was alarmed at the increasing vacancy in her expression. She forgot about her own modesty and decided the shirt would serve perfectly well as a makeshift dress for going out. “Maybe we’d better head in and report this tonight after all.”

“No, that’s OK,” Yuri answered, her eyes had fallen on the discarded vibrator, and her expression drifted even more. “Tomorrow would be …”

“Hey!” Kei was suddenly inspired through her alarm. “Chira. We could see her. Right now.”

The healer did indeed share the apartment building. Although she wasn’t one of the official Institute “Dispellers,” she had enough knowledge that she might be able to help them.

Yuri was still distracted. “Umm…”

“Come on, Yuri, for me.”

Yuri tore her eyes away from the dildo. “OK.”

About 15 minutes later, they were outside Chira’s door. Kei had gained another few inches of height, but still looked like an unusually proportioned toddler standing next to Yuri. She had secured her shirt by wearing a headband around her waist like a belt. Yuri had borrowed one of Kei’s shirts, since it came closer to fitting, but it did little to disguise her remarkable profile.

Yuri knocked on the door. There had been no answer with their first attempt, but Kei frowned and insisted they try again. Sure enough, after a longer series of louder knocks, there was a grumbling response inside. A minute later, the door opened, and a disheveled, bleary-eyed Chira appeared.

“What?” she demanded angrily.

“Hi, Chira,” Yuri chirped. “How are you?”

“Are you crazy?” she growled. “Do you have any idea what…” Her tirade stopped just as it had started to build as she noticed who she was talking to. Her eyes went wide. “Yuri?” A nervous giggle was her answer, and Chira turned to look down at the child she had assumed was standing next to her. If possible, her eyes went even wider. “Kei?”

“We need your help,” Kei said.

Chira slumped wearily against her doorframe as the shock subsided.

“That’s an understatement.” Her eyes closed as though testing if she could sleep standing up. “Why don’t you just go down to the Citadel and let the Dispellers handle this for you?”

“We, um, were sort of hoping you could do it. You know – quietly.”

“God, Kei, I am so tired. Of all the nights to …”

“Come on. Suppose someone like Conner sees me like this?”

Chira seemed ambivalent, but her calling as a Healer and her friendship with the agents tipped the balance. She waved them in while tightening her robe.

“How did it happen?” she asked as she pointed to the couch and gestured to magically light a large number of nearby candles. They were strategically arranged around a crystal sphere on the table before them, and their light seemed to bring out a rainbow of colors within it which reflected on their faces.

“We don’t know.”

Chira looked up in surprise. She’d never heard of anyone catching Kei unawares like that. “Effects?”

“You mean beyond the obvious?” Kei asked sarcastically. “Mine seems to be size only so far. Yuri’s changing physically and mentally.”

“I'm going to be a bimbo,” Yuri agreed brightly.

Chira’s alarm grew at the answer, but that was nothing compared to her reaction as she began studying the patterns of the lights. She passed her hand over the sphere and seemed to be listening, then brought her hand over it twice more. All at once, the lights reflected through the crystal became brighter and irregular, flashing rapidly and almost painfully before their eyes. Kei shielded her vision from the strobe effect, though Yuri made a sort of “Ooh” sound as though watching fireworks. With an exclamation, Chira passed both hands in front of the sphere, then gestured to extinguish all but two of the candles. She sat back on the floor, her face in obvious distress.

“What is it?” Kei asked anxiously.

A moment of silence, the Chira shook her head. “The magic’s chaotic.”

Two gasps of exclamation.

“Chaotic?” Could they really have been spelled by a demon and not known it? Worse, Kei anticipated Chira’s next comment.

“I'm sorry. There’s nothing I can do.”

Kei and Yuri recovered enough to stop staring at the Healer and exchanged worried looks instead. Chaotic magic was especially dangerous, but the only potential source that came to mind – especially a source that could have caught them by surprise - was an even worse thought.

“You’ve got to report this and get help. Right away,” Chira prompted. She seemed to scoot back a few inches as though worried, then rubbed her eyes in exhaustion. “Of all the nights…” she mumbled again.

Kei noticed the mixture of fatigue and stress distorting her voice, and also remembered the line from at the door.

“Why? What about tonight?” Kei asked sharply.

Chira opened her eyes in surprise. “Haven't you heard? The desolation?”

The smile that seemed more and more a permanent part of Yuri’s expression disappeared, replaced by one of horror. Kei’s blood ran cold.

“Who? When?”

“Last night,” Chira’s weariness was taking hold again as she recalled the last 24 hours of nonstop attempts to bring the victim back. “A young mage named Geist. We don’t know who did it yet. She’s in hospital, but … but there’s nothing I … I haven’t been able to…” She broke off and sagged into herself.

“Oh, Kei,” Yuri had turned back to her partner in alarm. Strangely enough, Kei could swear that several shocks of blond hair were slowly darkening again.

“Natalie and Richard,” Kei said, clenching her hands so tightly they blotched white and red.

“We don’t know that.”

“Who else? I told Zhukov it was only a matter of time.”

Chira didn’t seem convinced. “Lina says she felt …”

“Fuck, what does Lina know? She’s a rookie – hasn’t even worked in the field yet. I know it’s them.” She tried to gauge how much height she’d gained back in the last half hour. She might be back to five feet in a few more hours. Would it be enough? “Come on, Yuri. If I know Zhukov, they’ll be organizing squads for the dungeons. We need to go.”

“To the Dispellers, right?” Chira asked, sensing something in Kei’s tone.

“There’ll be time for that later,” Kei answered grimly. “I … we let this go too long. It’s time we finished this.”

Copyright 2004 by Nomdreserv

[TheoW]

PERSONAL DEMONS

By Nomdreserv

Chapter 10

The “dungeons” were a physical manifestation of the darker side to magic. They weren’t really dungeons, of course, merely subterranean foundations of the oldest Institute buildings. In many cases, they predated the buildings themselves, which were built and rebuilt on the same sites as the original excavations, all following the first law of real estate – location, location, location. In this case, the locations were dictated by the known physical nodes for interdimensional energies – in other words, the literal fountains of magic.

These intersections of the physical and metaphysical worlds were critical for supporting and replenishing magical energy, and allowed spells to be performed that were impossible elsewhere, facts recognized even before written records had been maintained. Occasionally, sites had to be abandoned, either from shifting of the parallel worlds or from cataclysmic eruptions of magic that ruined them (such as the infamous “sundering” that had devastated Stonehenge), but most persisted from one century to the next, with new buildings or organizations quite literally built upon the old. And just as it seemed that the official studies and behavior of the magical institutes above ground had turned towards benignity and enlightenment, so it seemed that the crumbling underground became darker and more twisted, suffused with the negative energies spurned above.

Originally constructed when magic had to literally be practiced underground to escape notice, and long since supplanted by cloaking and other protective spells, the dungeons beneath the Institute had fallen into neglect and disuse. In many cases, the extent and age of the oldest chambers were unknown. Indeed, there was no detailed map or inventory of the underground labyrinth, and new areas were still sometimes turned up with construction – some had been lost from ignorance, others (fewer in number thankfully) had been deliberately sealed or buried. The areas that were still used or patrolled occasionally were underneath the most powerful or popular sites, such as the Council chambers or the research facilities, sites of particular power and elemental conflux. Most of these were at least several centuries old, built mostly of roughly hewn stone, and had the dank, cold feel of the ancient earth. They seemed dark, no matter how many lights were present, and in fact, the darkness only seemed to resent the intrusion, making the shadows loom even more sinisterly, and the blackness beyond them more complete. The deeper tunnels and chambers weren’t lit at all, as though the newer arrivals had simply given up a hopeless task.

But magic, especially certain kinds of magic, and the creatures that wield it don’t require light. The magic that drew the respectable and comfortable buildings above was just as strong beneath the surface, and that’s why even the dungeons needed to be patrolled. You didn’t need to just be on the lookout for renegade sorcerers or the practice of “black” magic, but alert to creatures who used the dimensional intersections to enter our world unbidden and unseen. Imps, demons, monsters – all were drawn to the magic-saturated and reclusive darkness, and all were systematically, thoroughly routed out.

Or so the CSA claimed. The fact was, the dungeons were too extensive, old and little used to be fully patrolled. Why certain areas were consistently off limits was a question rarely addressed, and rumors persisted that “the Wilds” housed a whole range of unspeakable and unnatural denizens.

Whether this was true or not, the necessity of patrol remained constant. Agents checked the mapped and used portions of the dungeons regularly, and while the upper rooms were reasonably “civilized,” even these were patrolled in pairs, to avoid unpleasant surprises. How much worse would it be to search the Wilds?

Xena was about to find out.

She and Gabrielle were now unlocking a door that opened into a small reliquary in the lower Council dungeon, often referred to as “the Dungeon,”the largest of them all. Its upper levels were no more intimidating than a musty basement, and were used every day for storage and retrieval. The lower level they were now exploring was less often visited, though still regularly patrolled, so she expected no real surprises. Even so, there was a chill dampness and stillness in the air that inevitably induced some sense of anxiety or foreboding. The room they had just opened seemed harmless and looked to be some kind of records room or abandoned library, containing innumerable moldy books and even more ancient manuscripts, many old enough to be parchment or vellum, arrayed on untidy shelves.

“Now I know we’ve hit the bottom,” Gabrielle complained. “We’re down to searching the broom closets.”

Xena only grimaced. It was nothing akin to a broom closet except in size – indeed, there might be treasures of forgotten lore or unknown spells recorded on any number of the scrolls – but it wasn’t the room’s contents Xena was interested in anyway. She was looking for secrets of a different sort.

“Where better to hide a secret passage?” she demanded.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Gabrielle shot back sarcastically. “Maybe a place people actually went?”

“Then it might not be a secret,” Xena replied reasonably. She was holding a small instrument in her hand and sweeping it back and forth around the room.

“What makes you so sure there’s anything here anyway? They searched here already. We’re wasting our time.”

“I don’t think so. And Lina doesn’t think so.”

“Yeah? If she’s so sure, and Zhukov thinks she’s such hot stuff, why isn't everyone searching here?”

“You said it yourself – they already looked, so they can’t afford to not look other places.”

“Nicer places, I’ll bet,” Gabrielle grumbled while breathing in the dank, stale air.

Xena continued her sweep stubbornly. Their illumination globe that hovered above them seemed as depressed and wan as Gabrielle about their search venue, leaving the room only half lit, but she wasn’t relying on it anyway, instead studying the readouts from her divination rod. That device was supposed to discover doors or spaces hidden from view, and was also attuned to register the magic that might hide them. While it could detect an open portal at a mile’s distance, magically hidden doors could only be discovered at close range and with careful examination, especially if they’d been cloaked by an upper level mage.

“You think Lina really knows what she’s doing? I'm mean, come on – she’s a novice.”

Xena resisted the impulse to point out that they had both been novices last year as well.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “The Dungeon is a natural site for portals, so it makes sense, and all the competing magic makes finding cloaking spells almost impossible. I think Zhukov suspects it’s here too. That’s why he was going to organize squads for the Wilds.” A grin. “We’re just getting a head start.”

“Great.”

In truth, Lina had reinforced Xena’s own suspicion. Only in the swirling, potent magics of the Council building itself, with innumerable high-level mages coming and going, practicing and researching all manner of spells, could one effectively hope to hide a portal. Acting on the hunch and Lina’s own suspicion, she’d convinced Gabrielle to accompany her on an unofficial search despite the chambers having been declared clean by the officially assigned team.

“Oh come on,” Gabrielle whined. “Look at this place! There’s barely room for one of us, and there are shelves everywhere! Where would they hide the access point? Behind one of the books?”

Xena seemed ready to concede the point.

“Come on,” Gabrielle continued wearily. In effect, they were working a second straight shift, and while she had no complaints about that for a real mission under the circumstances, she was far less patient about wasting time. “Let’s go before we get terminal dust inhalation.”

Xena, nodded reluctantly, started to pocket her seeker, and then paused, looking around the room again. Something Gabrielle had said…

A novice mistake! She had been so intent on her instruments, she had ignored other, more basic evidence. She looked around the room with obvious excitement, then started another sweep, directed specifically towards the south wall.

“What?” Gabrielle demanded, thinking she’d already won the point. “Why are you starting again?”

“Because there isn’t any dust,” Xena replied quietly.

Gabrielle looked around and only now realized it was true. Though most of the unused or unfrequented basement rooms had a thick coating of dust, the shelves here seemed almost clear. She wrinkled her brow.

“Huh? Why…?” she started to asked, wondering why anyone would have been cleaning in here.

“So no one would notice comings and goings,” Xena answered without waiting for a question. She moved the device slowly from side to side, completing an arc, then began again, frustrated at the lack of response. She widened her movements.

And the seeker trembled slightly in her hand.

Instantly, she swung it back, confirming the slight movement, then began a finer series of sweeps towards the far wall. She was again frustrated, until she let the seeker drift up. Suddenly, it jerked in her hand.

“Damn!” she said appreciatively.

“What?” Gabrielle asked, trying to track her gaze along the seeker’s course.

Xena was reaching for her trigger spell. Many secret doors required a key or password, but the CSA had special wide-ranging trigger spells that could be activated from a wand, much like a skeleton key. Xena pointed hers, and began running through its cycled spells.

“Come on,” she urged, as it neared the end of its series without any response.

There was a soft click. What had seemed a moment before to be a smooth ceiling revealed a small frame, no more than the edges around the discovered door. It was situated flush with the ceiling, and even as Gabrielle started to ask how they were supposed to get close enough to use it, there was a low rumbling, and the far wall of shelves transformed – the lower shelves extending out and the upper pushing into the wall, until they’d formed a staircase leading directly to the portal.

“Satisfied?” Xena asked smugly, pocketing her key-wand.

“Yeah, well,” Gabrielle grumbled, then startled as Xena put her foot on the first stair rung. “Hey, wait a minute! Where are you going?”

“To see what’s up there, obviously.”

Gabrielle held out her hand. “No way, Xena. We should report this to Zhukov. He’ll want a full team down here.”

“Oh come on!” Xena protested, already starting up the steps. She paused and ticked off points on her fingers. “First off, we are a full team. Second, we have no idea where this goes. It may be that broom closet you were talking about.”

“In the ceiling?” Gabrielle asked sarcastically.

“Yeah, well, wizards used to have weird ideas of fun,” Xena suggested lamely. “Besides, no way I’m reporting this until we know more about it. This is our score, partner.”

She had almost reached the door itself, and showed no signs of coming back down. With a sigh, Gabrielle moved automatically to keep her close. Xena pushed on the door, gasping as her hand moved right through it, seeming to disappear into the solid ceiling. She quickly snatched her hand back and examined it, as though worried she might have left a finger or two behind. Reassured, she gingerly moved it through the portal again.

“Hologram?” Gabrielle asked.

Xena shook her head, pushing her hand back and forth through the panel, testing it and fascinated at how thoroughly and abruptly her hand vanished as it crossed the threshold. “Don’t think so. It feels funny when you push through it. Has to have some magic stasis. Maybe a teleportal.”

“Unregistered teleportals are illegal,” Gabrielle pointed out.

“And that makes it exactly what we’re looking for,” Xena shot back. Before her partner could say anything else, she’d taken a deep breath, moved another step up the shelf-ladder, and pushed her head through the ceiling.

“Xena!” Gabrielle called, alarmed at the unsettling sight of her friend’s head disappearing into thin air, as well as what might be on the other side. “Xena!” she called again, more loudly, as her friend took another step and her body started to follow.

It happened in a second. As Xena’s torso passed the threshold, she seemed to rocket upwards. Indeed, her feet left the stairs entirely, as though she were being silently and forcibly sucked into the ceiling. Gabrielle grabbed futilely at her disappearing feet, just missing them, and a second later, she was alone in the silent room.

“Xena!” she screamed again.

There was no answer. Gabrielle didn’t know if this was because Xena couldn’t hear her through the portal – or worse, couldn’t answer. Should she follow, in which case they might both be trapped, or should she seek reinforcements? She knew she couldn’t afford to wait long for either, but especially the first if Xena was in trouble. Tortured by mental images of her friend lost or injured, she took a breath and raced up the steps.

However, just as she’d neared the ceiling, she gasped and fell back a step, just avoiding collision with Xena’s disembodied head which had reappeared suddenly in the void. The head was smiling, looking none the worse for the trial. Indeed, she looked positively exhilarated.

“This is it!” she called. “It has to be.”

“Oh my God!” Gabrielle panted, goggling at the head which seemed to float in mid air. “Don’t ever do that!” She hyperventilated for several seconds while Xena enjoyed her discomposure, but finally recovered sufficiently to examine the scene more curiously. “So, um, where are you?”

“I don’t know,” Xena admitted, her head disappearing briefly, then returning. “But it’s perfectly safe. See?” Her head popped in and out of view several times.

Gabrielle closed her eyes as though sick or dizzy. “Will you please stop doing that?”

Xena smiled. “Sure.” Then she looked quizzical. “Couldn’t you hear me when I called you?”

“No.”

The floating head disappeared. Suddenly, Xena’s voice sounded over Gabrielle’s communicator.

“How about now?”

“Roger.”

The head reappeared and nodded, bobbing disconcertingly in mid air. “So, no problem with electronics, just physical sound transmission.”

“I guess. It must be an impulse teleportal. Bi-stability with a physical threshold. Sound and light wouldn’t travel.”

“Shit, you sound just like Yuri.”

“Yuri’s not the only smart one in the corps, you know,” Gabrielle said, looking hurt.

“Yeah, yeah,” Xena grinned, the disembodied smile reminding Gabrielle of Lewis Carroll’s Cheshire cat. “I knew there was some reason I kept you around.”

“So where exactly are you?” Gabrielle demanded.

Xena looked more serious. “It’s a hallway. Real strong magic signature, Gab.” A pause, and she dropped her voice triumphantly. “Chaotic.”

Gabrielle felt a chill. “Great. We found it. Now, get the hell out of there and we’ll call it in.”

“No way!” Xena called back stubbornly. “This is all ours. We’re going to have the full report when we present this. It’s gonna be huge.” She smiled saucily. “Coming up?”

“So we’ll both be caught?” Gabrielle asked cautiously.

“Look,” Xena said impatiently. She disappeared completely, and then bits and pieces of her kept reappearing – first a hand, then a leg, then her head again. “See? It’s stable. Whoever set this up did it right. We can leave whenever we want.”

“Then why did you get sucked in like that?” It was hard to tell if Gabrielle was really curious or just stalling.

“You come out sideways through the wall,” Xena explained. “Vertical to horizontal. Just watch it, or you’ll fall.”

Gabrielle was uncomfortable enough without arguing points with a disembodied head. “Come on, Xena. I don’t like this.”

“Fine. Then I’ll explore on my own.” Her head vanished slowly, again in the Cheshire cat style, just after her voice taunted. “Come up and see me sometime.”

Gabrielle shook her head. Xena was definitely the more daring of the team, even though Gabrielle had more magic potential. The CSA often paired agents to compliment physical and magical abilities. They made a good team, but sometimes, it was hard – and frightening - keeping up with her.

But they were still a team. She took a deep breath, and then, like Alice before her, Gabrielle elected to step through the looking glass.

\

Bob had resolved not to go into work after the previous day’s episodes, but duty and circumstances forced his hand. There was a project that had to be finalized that afternoon, and required his personal supervision. The best he could do, despite pleading all manner of viral misery, was to finagle a half day.

He walked in late and was surprised to find a whole group of women milling enthusiastically around the water cooler, swigging cup after cup of the chilled, bottled water while laughing and talking. He recognized most of the assistants and secretaries from his own area, as well as others vaguely familiar from elsewhere in the building. Even a few of the female executives seemed unusually thirsty.

He saw the woman who serviced the water coolers hefting an empty bottle onto her cart, then struggling to lift the full one off to replace it. He immediately jumped forward to help.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling at him. “These things are damn heavy. You’d think I’d be stronger from lifting them all the time. I sure wish I was.”

He looked at her slight frame and nodded sympathetically. He knew it wasn’t right to discriminate for jobs on the basis of gender, but she seemed ill-suited to this one. The full, multi-gallon jugs had to weight at least 40 pounds. Ordinarily, they lasted two days or more, but this appeared to be the second of the day already. He indicated the eager imbibers who seemed determined to drain the new bottle almost as soon as it had been replaced.

“What’s going on?”

She sighed but also laughed a little. “Isn’t it ridiculous? It’s Gina’s fault.”

Bob felt a pang of guilt, remembering how he’d unconsciously transformed his now super-buxom secretary.

“Gina?”

“Yeah. You saw what she looked like yesterday, right? I mean, I'm assuming it’s a boob job, but whatever, you know? I gotta admit, she looks really amazing. Anyway, some of the girls were giving her a hard time about the sudden changes, and she kept insisting that she hadn’t done anything, and then she made some crack about ‘maybe it’s the new water’.”

Bob looked suitably skeptical.

“Exactly. And I think no one else believes it either. But…” She nodded towards the giggling women as they downed yet another round. “Guess it doesn’t hurt anyone, you know? I suspect I’ll be back in an hour or so at this rate. Anyway, thanks.”

She set the empty bottle next to the many full ones on her cart and started towards the elevator. She dreaded trying to maneuver the heavy, loaded cart in close quarters like this, and actually considered asking Bob for help again, but was pleasantly surprised to find the cart lighter than she expected. Must have been the empty replacing one of the full bottles.

Bob watched her go, surprised to see that from behind she looked a little bigger and wider in the shoulders than he had assumed from first glance. Maybe her daily lifting had more of an effect than she realized. He glanced once more at the thirsty women drinking so hopefully and shook his head. Something in the water. Mind you, as ridiculous as that was, he was just glad they didn’t realize what had really happened.

Thankfully, he was able to lose himself in his project, determined to finish the work in just a few hours. Once or twice, he found himself leaning forward in the chair to reach the keyboard or his feet lifting off the floor, but he was almost getting used to the continued size fluctuations, and corrected the changes automatically. Besides, it hardly mattered if he was a few inches shorter or taller while he worked alone.

Unfortunately, the noise and activity outside the office continued to grow. It sounded as if all the women in the building must be congregating there now. In frustration, he took a break and stepped outside.

And stopped in astonishment. There were indeed more women than ever talking and laughing around the water tank. What was far more alarming was their appearance. It looked as though the secretaries convention had been replaced by a strippers reunion. Everywhere he looked, he saw tight or overstretched shirts, the buttons pulling and gaps appearing between them as they struggled to contain the burgeoning breasts within them. Not a woman there was smaller than a C-cup, and some were verging on E or F. They had grown larger too, standing several inches taller than he remembered. Those wearing skirts revealed remarkably toned calves and thighs, like dancers or athletes, and he could swear the skirts themselves were tighter and shorter.

Even more remarkably, they still talked and laughed as though nothing was wrong. There did seem to be an overall euphoria, as though subconsciously they approved of the changes, but no one remarked on their newly prodigious endowments or apparently shrinking clothes.

And they were still drinking the water!

Bob saw several men staring lustfully and wistfully, albeit with some confusion, at the newly configured amazon corps of the office. A few men actually tried to push their way in, whether to hit on the women (an increasingly daunting proposition) or perhaps simply to slake their thirst, but in any case, the women seemed to form a defensive perimeter to their exclusion. Again, it didn’t seem to be a conscious decision, but a deliberate reaction nonetheless. This was their magic fountain, and they intended to keep it.

“Pretty amazing, huh?” he heard a familiar voice behind him

He spun to find the water girl from earlier in the morning smiling down at him. It took a second for him to realize that fact.

She was smiling down at him.

He gasped, and only then took in her other changes. She was not only taller – at least six foot four now – but incredibly muscular. Her uniform shirt looked about 4 sizes too small, skintight across her chest and shoulders, and the bottom long since pulled out from her waistband, leaving a broad band of hard, defined abs exposed. The buttons barely held together under the combined pressure of her expanded chest, which had ballooned from a combination of expanded muscle and enlarging breasts, and her linebacker-wide, thick shoulders. The sleeves of her shirt had split around softball-sized biceps that looked hard and round even at rest. Her pants were even tighter but had somehow held together, although they looked painted on, revealing every detail of the cords of muscle that had exploded beneath the skin of her thighs and calves. They had also crept up to mid calf level, and the cuffs looked like they were ready to split apart as they struggled to contain the hard diamonds of muscle beneath them. Actual rips and seams had appeared across her shoes, and he suspected she would lose them entirely if she flexed her feet.

“That’s the fourth jug this morning, and these things hold 5 gallons,” she said. “I’d hate to see the restroom line by noon.” She laughed at her own joke, then easily lifted a full jug for replacement with one hand, holding it as effortlessly as a single serve bottle. “Still, I have to admit, I've felt really good this morning since I've been drinking it too. A girl could get addicted to this stuff.”

With that, she nodded at him, then pushed her way into the inner circle with the new jug, receiving a chorus of hurrahs from the assembled drinkers. Even among the developing women, she stood out, though not as much as she should have – the Amazon Queen providing for her subjects. Even more amazing, Bob saw her biceps actually swell and grow larger as she lifted the jug into place.

“I wish I got stronger from carrying this stuff.” It wasn’t an exact quote, but the half-remembered sentiment was what mattered, and Bob realized exactly what had happened. Sure enough, she seemed even bigger and more intimidating as she came back. She smiled down from yet another inch of newly added height.

“Thanks again for helping me out earlier.” The smile faded somewhat, as she tried to reconcile her new size and strength (which seemed completely natural now) and her need for help before. She also looked Bob up and down, dwelling on his now comparatively slight stature, as though she was surprised.

Or disappointed. Though that was nothing personal against Bob – she would find just about all men seemed puny now.

“You, um, might want to get a drink sometime too,” she suggested, before unsuccessfully stifling a giggle.

And with that, she was off, happily steering her two-hundred pound cart as though it weighed nothing at all.

Bob stared after her, near panic and with his project forgotten. He was unsure whether to follow her immediately or try to reverse the more general but less dramatic changes among the rest of the women. With a sinking sensation, he saw one secretary, now close to six feet tall, oversized breasts barely contained within a stretching dress blouse, and with her short, tight skirt showing off the hard leg muscles of a trained athlete, wave goodbye as she started back to her desk. How many other women might have already finished their drinks or breaks and returned anonymously to work with “enhancements” established? Could he be sure to track them all down? Perhaps even need to cover the entire building?

He concentrated on the water itself, trying the visualization techniques Gregor had instructed him in, hoping to turn the water into its own antidote. Then he took off after the delivery woman, determined to catch up to her before she ripped out of her clothes entirely.

Or before she could deliver any more of that water.

Yuri and Kei had snuck into the end of the briefing session, clearly hoping not to be noticed. Unfortunately, their current conditions made that hope laughable. Kei was still under 5 feet tall, but they knew they couldn’t wait for her to grow all the way back to normal height and still make the briefing. And Kei was grimly determined to find out what had happened and get out into the field. As for Yuri, there was still no sign of her own changes reversing at all, so waiting made even less sense.

There were a growing number of whispers causing turns and looks of surprise from their fellow agents as the hid in the back of the room, but even so, the briefing was nearly over before their situation was publicly exposed. Zhukov had finished his earnest tactical updates, reinforcing the enormity of the situation and how critical time was, then ordered the agents into formation to receive their assignments. He had made the first three when it happened.

Zhukov stopped in front of Kei and looked her up and down in disbelief. She stood ramrod straight, trying everything she could to gain an extra inch or so of height, and still only came to his lower chest. Her oversized uniform hung in folds, the sleeves covering her hands and her pants sagging accordion-like onto her boots, making her look like a little girl playing dress up.

“Are you trying to be funny, agent?” he asked gruffly.

“Sir, no, sir,” Kei answered briskly, staring straight ahead.

“Then explain this,” he gestured at her impatiently.

“Sir, I, uh, can’t,” Kei admitted.

Zhukov turned towards Yuri, as though expecting enlightenment from her, and promptly did a double take. Whereas Kei’s uniform looked comical from being oversized, Yuri’s was beginning to look absurdly too small, at least as far as her chest was concerned. Not only were her breasts clearly outlined by the taut fabric, all but screaming for comment, but their increased volume had pulled her shirt out from her waistband, leaving a thin line of bare midriff. Together with her increasingly blond hair and an almost palpable aura of sexuality, Yuri was starting to look like an oversexed, oversold pop star.

“Yuri?”” he asked, clearly stunned. He might have expected shenanigans from Kei, but Yuri had always been a model agent.

“Sir, yes, sir,” Yuri snapped a salute, causing her overlarge breasts to quiver provocatively.

“Are you feeling all right?” he asked solicitously.

“Yes, sir,” Yuri replied immediately. “Ready for action, sir.” There was a moment’s silence, as Yuri seemed to suddenly realize a double meaning and struggle inwardly, before she abruptly giggled. “Action. Hee!”

Zhukov made a sour face and stepped back. The other agents had already moved away, as though whatever had transformed the two women might be catching. Zhukov gestured for an assistant.

“Scan them,” he ordered brusquely.

Yuri and Kei stood straight and expressionless, trying to maintain their dignity as the assistant examined them, using several devices, most notably a crystal which made ominous flashes and a small lens that hovered magically in front of his right eye. They all knew the answer before he finished. Indeed, their attempted air of unconcern faltered even before the assistant grimaced and stepped back.

“Both cursed. Deeply imbedded. Strong chaotic signature,” he confirmed.

There was a murmur from the other agents, and Kei blushed deeply as she tried to feign composure while disbelieving or disapproving glances shot through them. Zhukov, however, maintained equanimity.

“My office, both of you. Now,” he barked. He coldly watched them leave, then turned to Velasquez, his lieutenant, already reformulating his plans. He would need a new lead team. “Have Xena and Gabrielle checked in yet?”

“No, sir.”

That was unusual. He hoped it meant they had found something. Of course, officially, they were both off duty for their required rest cycle after 24 hour duty, but he knew them too well to assume that.

“Have them see me as soon as they come in. You may continue the briefings and assignments while I deal with these two.”

“Sir,” she acknowledged.

And while the other agents pretended to give their full attention to the briefing, and officially there was only regret and concern over the misfortune for fellow agents, there were a few poorly hidden grins, either of malice or at least amusement. Not only had the two stars of the department been embarrassingly bespelled, but Kei, who had made a few enemies with her brusque manner and rapid rise to the top, had been quite literally taken down.

Zhukov stopped to pick up their reports from the last assignment. He walked into his office reading it, both Yuri and Kei awaiting him nervously and standing at full attention, though with somewhat comical effects since Kei’s uniform seemed to be dripping off her and she barely came up to her counterpart’s shoulders, and Yuri’s top had pulled out even further and tighter. Zhukov looked at them expectantly.

“Any agent suspected of being under a spell or curse must seek immediate thaumatalurgic diagnosis and healing. That’s an inviolable principle, isn’t it?” he asked rhetorically, quoting one of the prime directives. He slowly scanned their activity log. “I see nothing in your report about being spelled, let alone being treated.”

“No, sir,” Kei returned briskly. “We took no hits, sir.”

“Indeed?” he asked in feigned admiration. “Remarkable, in fact.” He stopped directly in front of her, emphasizing his new foot-plus of height advantage. “Perhaps you would care to explain this then?”

“I…can’t. Sir,” she hastened to add the honorific.

“I see. Most unfortunate.”

“Sir, I …” Yuri started to intervene to draw the heat from Kei, but Zhukov held up a hand cutting her off.

“Agent Yuri, I will speak with you next.” He turned back solicitously to Kei. “And exactly when, pray tell, were you planning to report yourself for curse leave?”

“Sir, I … wasn’t sure I was under a curse,” Kei suggested lamely.

Zhukov slammed his hand on the desk with a remarkable bang, making them both jump.

“Oh yes? By all means, let’s wait a while longer to be sure. Perhaps you were going to wait until you were an inch tall, and had to hitch a ride on someone’s boot rather than walk to the decon center yourself?” His voice doubled in volume and he no longer bothered to hide his disappointment and anger. “Unbelievable. Apparently, your opinion of me is low enough that you thought you could get by.”

Kei was surprised and stricken by the unintended inference. “Sir, I …”

“Save it, agent. And, Yuri, I have to say I’m disappointed. I thought you had more sense.”

Yuri simply stood in silence. Even if she had been able to explain their position, it would probably have been wiser to let it go. She knew better than to try to make excuses when Zhukov was angry. Besides, the buzzing in her head had progressed to the point that she was having a hard time thinking anything through anyway.

“When did this start?” he asked Yuri.

She hesitated. “Sir, I’m not sure.”

He seemed surprised. “You must have noticed something. I mean, look at yourselves.”

Yuri blushed. “Sir, I … I … everything is sort of … confusing, you know? I think, like, maybe, it started yesterday or something.”

“Yesterday?” he seemed even more surprised by her pattern of speech than the timeline. “And you remained on duty?”

“Well, I, uh …” she stammered. “Well, it was, like, just my hair color at first, you know? And, like, we thought maybe…”

“It’s my fault, sir,” Kei interjected, hoping to draw his ire. “Yuri wanted to be checked out, but I convinced her it was just a prank. I … didn’t notice my own changes, sir.”

“You didn’t notice this?” he asked incredulously, looking down at her.

“It’s temporary, sir,” she explained. “My shrinking seems to be intermittent and triggered. I regain normal size after a while.” Or so she hoped. Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure she was actually getting back to her original height after all. She realized she might be caught in a deteriorating spiral of slow size loss.

“And what’s the trigger?” he asked.

Kei colored even more deeply. “I’d rather not say, sir.”

He scowled. “What does Gregor say about it?”

Kei hesitated again. “Um, we haven’t told him yet, sir.”

His eyes caught fire. “You haven’t…?” Even if they hadn’t taken official steps, he had at least assumed they’d sought counsel from their mutual friend. Unlike many in the Institute establishment, Zhukov was not only able to see past Gregor’s flippant facade, but genuinely liked him. This was the end to his patience. “Fine. Since you seem to prefer investigating these curses on your own, you can continue to do so. Being off active duty is automatic, but consider yourselves on suspension as well. You can turn in your equipment to Alberich. I expect a full report on your condition from Canis or another Council level mage before tomorrow morning. Now, get out of here.”

Kei hesitated, willing to risk even greater wrath in her resolve.

“Sir, I …” He looked up, eyes still hot. “Sir, the desolation. We …we only wanted to help.” A pause. “Is there any evidence that they’re responsible?”

Her intonation left no doubt as to whom she referred. Zhukov scowled again.

“No. But it wouldn’t matter if there was. Frankly, I’d hesitate sending you in against them anyway after your last encounter. Under the current circumstances, the idea is idiotic. Wouldn’t you say, agent?”

Stung at the words, Kei could only nod, while Yuri dragged her out of the office.

As soon as the door closed after them, Kei snarled.

“Idiotic? Fuck him! How many times have we saved his shit, and now he pulls this? We’re still better than half the fucking agents out there.”

“Come on, Kei,” Yuri urged. “The sooner we get the spells diagnosed, the sooner we can help.”

Embarrassed and rebuked, Yuri and Kei hurried away. If they’d hoped to get away without further insult, however, they were mistaken. In the next hallway, they were immediately assailed by waiting figures.

“Well, well, look who got herself cursed.” It was Conner, his voice triumphant and mocking. “And by a demon, no less. Fucking brilliant. Sloppy work, agent. Not that I would have expected anything more.”

Kei’s hands balled into fists, though the fact was partially obscured by her overhanging sleeves. “Shut up, Conner.”

“I think I like her this way,” he observed to Butler, one of his cohorts. He then leered at Yuri’s swollen chest and too tight shirt. “And I definitely like the new look here. Hey, Yuri, those things real? How about letting us take a look?”

And the worst part was, Yuri had to actually fend off an immediate impulse to lift her shirt and do just that. She liked their obvious ogling. Instead of shooting a sarcastic comment back, she just smiled.

This took them both by surprise, and the male agents exchanged looks, then grinned. They’d seen this kind of spell before.

“Hey, Yuri, how do you put a twinkle in a blonde’s eye?” Conner asked.

Yuri looked puzzled.

“Shine a flashlight in her ear,” he finished, making Butler crack up.

Yuri actually found herself giggling. It was sort of funny, really, and it wasn’t like she was really stupid.

Was it?

Kei, however, jumped to her defense. She walked right up to Conner, staring up at through the foot and a half of height that separated them.

“Shut the fuck up, dickwad,” she said angrily.

But whereas Conner would ordinarily have taken extreme caution when Kei became angry, he now seemed unconcerned.

“Or what?” he asked coolly.

“Forget it,” Kei grumbled, not wanting to get into anything in public like this. She turned to leave.

But Conner would have none of it. He reached out, grabbed her shoulder hard, and spun her around.

“Hey, dyke, I think we have some unfinished business from the other night about you and your demon-shit friend.”

“Fuck off!”

“Not so tough now, are you, short stuff? I told you,” he said confidingly to Butler. “Hey, Kei, I’d have you give me a blow job to make up for it, but your mouth is probably so shitty from that black-cunt’s j…OOF!”

His invective had been interrupted as Kei had reared back and directed a kick to his abdomen. He staggered backwards, losing his grip on her shoulder. Kei would ordinarily have followed immediately with a crush move to immobilize him, but unfortunately, hadn’t compensated for her reduced size when she’d lashed out. While he was driven back a couple of steps, she was literally catapulted backwards, as though she’d kicked off a wall, thanks to their significantly variant masses. She was also embarrassed to find that she’d lost her boot with the kick.

Still, even barefooted she was quick to recover, and as angry as ever. This was just the sort of physical release she needed, and having Conner as a target made it seem even better. She launched herself ferociously at him the second she recovered.

But that extra second was all Conner needed to recover himself. He intercepted her, and deftly turned her attack harmlessly to the side. Worse, a moment later, he’d used her own momentum against her and pinned both her arms behind her back. Kei struggled uselessly, gasping at the unexpected disparity in their strength.

“Ha!” he laughed. “You’re not even as strong as my kid sister.”

It was true. Kei realized with dismay that at under 5 feet and 100 pounds, she had only a fraction of her normal strength. Still, it didn’t mean she was helpless. She stomped hard on his foot with her remaining boot. He grunted, but only reacted by slamming her body against the wall. Kei grunted at the explosion of pain and twisted to no avail in an attempt to escape.

Or so it seemed. An instant later, she was free, and it was Conner tumbling to the ground. For a second, she thought her countermove had actually worked. She turned to follow it up, but as soon as she did, she saw the real reason for the reversal - a very angry Yuri standing over him, with her foot planted on his chest.

“You know what?” she demanded. “I don’t have to be a genius to tell you that if you lay a hand on her again, I’ll break it off.”

Butler, automatically looking to help his friend, had moved into attack position behind Yuri, and Kei readied herself for a full free-for-all when they suddenly realized Zhukov was standing in the hallway. He glared at them all coldly.

“Problems, agents?”

Yuri had stepped off Conner, and he had immediately scrambled ignominiously to his feet, trying to look composed.

“No, sir,” they all chorused.

“Good. I would hate to think any of my agents could be so petty or undisciplined as to brawl in the corridors.” He kept his voice and eyes level. “And if you’re looking to practice hand-to-hand, that’s what the combat rooms are for.” He picked up Kei’s loose boot. “Yours, I think?” he said, handing it to her.

“Thank you, sir.”

He turned towards Conner, obviously trying to control his anger. “You’re supposed to be on assignment I believe?”

“Just leaving, sir.” He was brushing his uniform off and glaring at the two female agents. “Just needed to give Kei here a message.”

“So I saw. It would seem that even with her present disadvantage, you found her a formidable conversationalist.”

Conner’s eyes blazed, but he bit back the comments. Instead, after one last baleful look, he and Butler left. Zhukov turned to Yuri and Kei.

“That report by tomorrow,” he reminded them, turning to go back to his office.

“You OK?” Yuri asked after they were alone.

“Yeah,” Kei said grudgingly. “Just wish I’d had another minute with that asshole.”

Yuri was sensitive enough to forgo the suggestion that another minute with Conner might have landed Kei in the infirmary. The idea that Yuri was now responsible for her physical safety left Kei very uncomfortable and even more desperate as a whole new effect of her shrinking became obvious. Her whole identity lay in her physical prowess and dominance – if she didn’t have those, who was she?

And did she want to find out?

Xena and Gabrielle had walked some distance along their discovered corridor without incident, but it was obvious the passageway was leading them down into the deeper dungeon recesses.

“I wonder if we’re officially in the Wilds yet?” Gabrielle asked.

“Probably not. This passageway is too recent.”

“Recent” was an odd description for a pathway was obviously centuries old and built of rough-hewn, irregularly shaped stones, but it suggested how truly ancient the original foundations were. The passage was also deathly quiet and utterly dark, but their illumination globe floated along to provide irregular light for a few yards in each direction.

They turned a corner, and Xena froze, slamming her hand across Gabrielle’s chest to stop her in mid stride. She continued the motion to pull them both back around the corner.

“Someone’s there,” she whispered.

She peeked briefly around the corner, then repeated the motion for a longer look.

“He’s not moving,” she said.

“What? He has to see our light,” Gabrielle returned quietly.

“I know.” Another peek. “But maybe… Gab, see what you think.”

Gabrielle barely poked her head out, her heart racing. In the flicker of the reflected light, she could just barely make out the silhouette of a huge, wide-shouldered figure, at least 7 feet tall, completely immobile against the far wall. When there was no reaction to her peek, she brought her whole head around to get a better look.

It was a male figure, gigantic in proportion, with impossibly muscled legs and shoulders as wide and high as the arch of a doorway. The head was curiously smooth, with its chief feature a thick ridge across the forehead just above the dark, sunken eyes. Those eyes neither moved nor flickered as their light played across them, and his body stood as still as if carved from stone.

Stone…

Gabrielle pulled her head back around.

“Shit! It’s a golem!”

“No way!”

Golems were infamous and awesome at the same time, considered almost impossible to animate, and requiring magic of the highest levels. And the difficulty in their creation and remarkable rarity were just as well, since they were also notoriously difficult to destroy if they turned against their masters, being almost immune to magic and impervious to most physical assaults.

They took turns sneaking glances to confirm Gabrielle’s impression.

“Why isn't it reacting to us?” Xena asked.

“Must not be programmed to. They’re pretty literal with their instructions.”

“You mean, we could just step out and let it see us, and it wouldn’t do anything?”

“Well, I'm not sure if … Xena!”

Her objection was too late. Xena had stepped around the corner and now openly inspected the motionless automaton across the passage. Gabrielle reluctantly joined her after a minute without apparent danger.

“I wonder if it can sense us?” Gabrielle asked curiously. She would love the opportunity to study the creature.

As if in response, the monster’s head turned slightly towards them, making Gabrielle’s heart jump in reaction. She was already turning on her heel and reaching to drag Xena with her when the golem spoke, his voice rumbling like an earthquake in the reverberating stone passage.

“Do you desire entry?” it asked.

“Pardon me?” Xena replied, wondering what it meant and digging in her heels against Gabrielle’s desperate pulling.

There was no response, and after a second, Gabrielle had an idea why. When the golem made no further motions or any overt sign of menace, she stopped trying to drag Xena away and turned back to face it.

“Repeat,” she ordered.

“Do you desire entry?”

Otherwise, there was no motion or response from the creature. No sign, in fact, that it even cared whether or not it received an answer.

“See, they’re kind of like robots,” Gabrielle started. “You just have to understand…”

“Yes,” Xena cut her off, addressing the golem. “We desire entry.”

“Xena!”

Too late, the golem creaked into motion, small rivulets of dust and sand marking where its joints ground against each other. It turned and dug its fingers into the stone of the wall, pushing it until a new doorway appeared. At first glance, they assumed the golem was forcing the door open, perhaps even pushing the stones of the wall apart, but further inspection revealed the doorway was virtually seamless and perfectly fitted into the wall, almost certainly magically created and operated, the creature’s fingers apparently acting as a literal key. When the door was swung fully open, the golem returned to its rest position, motionless, and apparently ignoring them.

“OK, I think we’ve seen enough,” Gabrielle decided. “Wait! Noooo!”

Not surprisingly, Xena had already darted through the door and was exploring the new area. After waiting a few minutes and confirming that the golem appeared to be safely in standby mode again, she reluctantly followed.

And as soon as they had passed beyond the first turn in the new passage. The golem slowly turned and swung the door silently and immovably closed.

“I don’t get it,” Gabrielle said suspiciously, following Xena down the corridor. “That was way too easy. I mean, why even guard the door if you’re going to make it that easy to pass through?”

“Don’t know,” Xena admitted, more concerned with investigating the mystery further.

She was already away from the door, walking down a dark, dank hallway. However, this was far less dark than the previous corridor. Irregularly placed glow-lamps flickered into life as they neared them, showing that the passage had been used by mages recently enough to leave enough magic to still light the way, but even with that light added to their own illumination sphere, there wasn’t enough for comfort’s sake.

This was especially true as Gabrielle passed over a grating in the floor. Far beneath them there was a scurrying and strange hissing sound, half reptilian and half … well, something else. There were plenty of rumors about the strange and unpleasant creatures that inhabited the deepest and abandoned tunnels of the dungeons. Far worse than simple rats, snakes or normal creatures of the night, these represented terrestrial animals mutated and twisted by generations of exposure to chaotic magic, as well as the less desirable denizens of other realms who sought refuge in the deepest recesses of our world. It was a horrible, Darwinian world where only the nastiest or most dangerous survived.

And Gabrielle only hoped that wasn’t where the path that sloped ahead into the darkness was leading them. There was no longer any question that they had reached the Wilds.

A small terrified squeak, abruptly cut off, came from beneath their feet as they reached another grate. Even Xena paused, clearly reconsidering the journey into the darkness. She pulled her standard torch out and switched it on, shining it into the spaces of the grate as though to see what had made the noise. The darkness swallowed the light utterly and without strain, apparently without effect except for a faint, angry slithering sound. Xena looked up, doubt showing for the first time in her eyes.

“So,” she said thoughtfully. “Maybe it is time to call this in.”

“Thank God,” Gabrielle muttered, already touching the communication pin on her shirt. “Command? Gabrielle here. We’ve got something.” There was an unexpected silence. Gabrielle touched it again. “Command?” She hit it once more. It made a chirping sound, but otherwise seemed to have no effect. Worried, she looked at Xena.

Already expecting the result, Xena activated her own communicator, receiving the same complete silence. “Shielded,” she grimaced, looking around with fresh concern at the walls. Areas shielded against magic implied very powerful or very dangerous forces at work. She looked once more into the dim, sloping tunnel in front of them. “We should probably head back.” A pause, and then an almost defiant attempt at rationalization, “You know, just to call it in and make it official and everything.”

“Of course,” Gabrielle agreed, tacitly accepting the lie. She led the way back up the tunnel, only to stop with a horrified gasp.

There was no sign of the door they’d come in by. A blank, impenetrable face of stone stared at them instead.

“Oh shit!” she hissed, a definite accusing tone creeping into her comment. She turned to her partner angrily. “Xena?”

Xena was already scanning the wall, her enchanted lens activated and floating in perfect unison next to her eye. There was no trace of cloaking magic. “The door’s not hidden,” she said, almost not believing it herself. “It’s gone.”

Gabrielle was screaming at the wall, hoping the golem would react on the other side.

“Open! Entry! Whatever! We desire entry, goddamn it!”

“Forget it,” Xena said. “Even if it could hear you through the stone, I doubt it reacts from this side.”

“Oh wonderful,” Gabrielle groaned. “No wonder they don’t guard the door. They want people to come through. It’s a fucking trap!”

Xena gritted her teeth and pulled her sidearm out, activating it with a thought. “Yeah? Well, if it’s a trap, they’re going to find they’ve caught some pretty dangerous mice.”

Her weapon was a base-level blaster, with the ability to fire stored magical energy in the form of coherent packets (or “magic missiles” as they were more colloquially referenced), lightning, fire or ice bolts. It might not be strong enough to blast through the solid rock walls of their corridor, but it was designed to handle even mid-level demons, and would be more than enough to stop any human enemies they might encounter.

Assuming, of course, they were able to wield them.

As they stood there, weapons ready and considering what to do, they both started as a movement in the shadows caught their eye. Instantly, both blasters were drawn and trained on the area, but it was Xena who more quickly recognized the cause, immediately bringing her other hand up in a halting motion.

“Forget it. It’s just a cat.”

Indeed it was. A black cat slowly detached itself from the surrounding shadows and stalked slowly into the corridor before them, taking care to avoid the treacherous grates they had seen before. It then sat and stared at them, as though waiting.

“Hiya, puss,” Gabrielle said soothingly, walking over and reaching down to touch its head, relieved to see such an ordinary companion in the tunnels. If a cat could walk them safely, there couldn’t be anything too dangerous nearby.

The cat tolerated her touch, but its ears flattened. It sat and watched her balefully, still seeming to be waiting for something.

“Nice cat,” Gabrielle said ironically, standing up and feeling a chill from its yellow eyes. They seemed entirely too intelligent and cold for comfort. “So, now what?”

“We move on. There must be an exit somewhere.”

“Yeah, but to what?” Gabrielle couldn’t get the nasty sounds they’d heard earlier from beneath the grates out of her mind.

But she had no way of knowing that what lay ahead would be even worse.

[TheoW]

Bob had left work after doing the best he could to reverse the water-borne changes he’d unwittingly wrought. He’d also signed off on the project without checking it again. If he’d made a mistake, he’d face the consequences later. That was better than transforming a whole office building with his daydreams. He’d also called Lisa and Karen to tell them what was happening. Lisa had promised to come home as soon as she could make sure Lynette was covering.

He tried to take his mind off the nearly disastrous day at work. He got a beer from the fridge and reached for a glass in the cupboard. He had to reach again, then actually look, since his hand missed the first time. He actually reached up and stretched a little to grab one. He looked again. The second shelf – that was the usual one, wasn’t it? But it couldn’t be. Was he shorter again? He looked down. His shirt felt loose, but that was natural since he’d removed his tie. Were his pants too long? He couldn’t tell for sure. He felt normal, but found it harder and harder to tell for sure. Too much magic and size changing, that was the problem. It would confuse anyone.

He grabbed some chips too, and settled onto the coach to see if there were any sports on. Unfortunately, except for the talking and highlight shows, the only actual competition of any kind was women’s tennis. Then again, given the skimpy outfits and toned bodies on display, why was that bad? He settled in for some guilt-free voyeurism, insisting to himself that he was only interested in the athletic aspects of the match.

The game featured two of the best players on the circuit: Diana Williams and Greta Han Dejobbe. Diana was an American, dark complexioned, with long, black hair and a propensity for wearing her own clothes designs on the court. These were usually tight, brief and deliberately sexy, often designed to emphasize her broad shoulders, bulging thighs and noticeably developed upper arms. If she wasn’t the strongest woman on the court, she certainly looked to be, and there were even rumors about illegal drug enhancements that had helped her game soar to the top ranks. Greta, in contrast, was a centerfold Nordic type – beautiful (she had a more lucrative endorsement income than actual winnings), blond, and with gorgeous legs that seemed to go on forever. She also had a superficial size advantage since she was just over six feet in height, but her upper body wasn’t as developed, and she was obviously less muscular than her opponent. This left her at a significant disadvantage in the power game, but she compensated with her superior height and stride to excel in range, using control and patience to win points.

Bob watched several points with moderate interest, though to be honest, he was spending more time looking at Greta’s long legs, showcased by a barely there tennis skirt, and comparing them to Diana’s, which bulged with obvious muscle and threatened to rip her skin-tight shorts. Both wore tight tops, though this emphasized that Diana had more upper body development in more ways than one. Average in size, her breasts still eclipsed Greta’s, whose one flaw in most men’s ever-lascivious eye was her almost flat chest.

Greta seemed overmatched in a more important way today, however, as Diana blistered an ace by her to close out her service game. The gallery applauded while the announcer rather portentously revealed that it was already her sixth ace in the first set, and that she’d only lost two points on serve so far. It was already 3-0, Diana having broken Greta’s first service, and things didn’t figure to improve for the lanky blond. Everyone knew that when those powerful arms were moving in rhythm that Diana was virtually unbeatable. It was too bad that Greta didn’t have some of that strength to make the match more even, Bob thought.

His attention wandered slightly as he picked up a magazine to read between games. It wasn’t until he heard the announcer whistle and the gallery erupt that he looked up. Greta was looking quietly pleased, and Diana noticeably worried. The replay showed a very fast, hard first serve from Greta rocket past a slowly-reacting Diana.

“That’s about as hard as I’ve ever seen her hit a serve,” the color commentator said, obviously impressed.

“Certainly harder than anything earlier today,” the other agreed. “Do you think she’s found her rhythm.”

“Let’s hope so. A few more like that might put her right back in this match.”

Greta reared back and unleashed another scorcher. Diana barely waved at it as it went by. She fiddled with her strings as though something wrong with her racket had prevented her from returning the serve, but clearly looked worried.

“Wow, another ace!” the play by play announcer reported excitedly. “I’ve never seen her get consecutive serves past Diana like that. Has she changed something in her technique?”

“I’m not sure,” the second voice admitted. “It may be that conditioning program she’s been talking about. She certainly looks … more fit than I've ever seen.”

It was true. Now that Bob looked more closely, Greta had far more upper body musculature than he had thought. Her arms showed definite biceps bulges as she flexed her racket (which felt amazingly light to her now), and her sleeveless top looked almost stretched by the width of her shoulders. Her legs seemed bulkier as well, with noticeable bulges at the calves that made them look rounder than before.

Diana, meanwhile, in addition to looking a little worried, almost seemed to have deflated a little in response. Her legs still looked strong, but her thigh muscles weren’t distorting her shorts anymore. She was walking around, trying to shake the odd feeling in her body that had made her lose the last two points. She really hadn’t even had a chance to react to those last two serves. In wasn’t just that they were harder and faster than she was used to from Greta, her own movements and first step hadn’t been as quick, and her racket seemed oddly heavy in her hand. She grimaced when Greta’s next first serve also rocketed past her, but relaxed when it went long. She could always pounce on her second serve to get back into the game.

She waited carefully, then launches herself at the softer placement serve. She felt a satisfyingly solid contact as she hit the ball square and in the racket’s sweet spot, directing an unreturnable shot cross court.

Or it should have been unreturnable. For some reason, she hadn’t hit it quite as hard as she’d thought at first, and Greta seemed to almost explode out of the backcourt, her long, strong legs eating up the distance to the seemingly sure winner in less than a heartbeat. Before either of the women could quite believe it, Greta had swung her racket, zipping the ball right past an astonished Diana.

The gallery erupted again. Diana was being shown up in a power game! It was unheard of. The announcers could barely restrain their partisanship as they recognized the shift in the match. It seemed a turning point in Greta’s long but generally unsuccessful rivalry with her stronger colleague. Indeed, Diana seemed to realize it more than anyone else, looking increasingly demoralized, almost physically smaller, as she took up her ready position. Greta served another rocket. Determined not to be aced yet again, Diana managed to swing her racket out barely in time.

And literally had it knocked from her hand.

The crowd cheered again as the winning serve ricocheted off. Not only had the match become far more interesting, but they were seeing what was considered impossible – Diana being literally outmuscled on court.

And it really was literal. Now that Bob had become interested again, he could see how wrong he’d been about Greta. Apparently, her conditioning program had been very successful. She had real arm bulges – muscles that would make most men want to wear long sleeves to avoid direct comparison if standing next to her. Her arms made Diana’s look almost normal by comparison.

In fact, he wasn’t sure exactly why Diana was considered such a physical freak now that he studied her. She looked almost indistinguishable in her build from most of the other women playing. Perhaps she’d eased off on weight training (or supplements) after achieving her Grand Slam the previous year. Just as unusual for her, he noticed her clothes were a little loose today, especially her shorts and sleeves, which were almost always stretched around her muscles.

If anything, it was Greta who seemed almost freakish, or at least compared to her usual willowy self. The extra muscles and wider shoulder gave her upper body a distinctly masculine look. Bob couldn’t help thinking that she’d look better with larger breasts to compensate. Her powerful legs would be better complimented with a full, round, unmistakably female ass too. Of course, her height contributed to the effect. She was too intimidating with this new look. Maybe if she were a little shorter…

Bob looked up as the door opened. Lisa, looking extremely worried, came through into the kitchen, then spotted him in the family room.

“Bob!” she called. “What happened? Are you all right?”

Bob stood up as Lisa approached. To both their surprises, they found him looking slightly up into her face. As if on cue, they both looked down. They were both wearing shoes, but while Lisa’s practical pumps were clearly visible, Bob’s were almost hidden by his pants’ cuffs sagging onto them. Lisa looked up puzzled.

“You made yourself shorter again?”

“Not intentionally.” Bob felt a pang of worry at what was beginning to happen more and more frequently. He concentrated, but for some reason, he couldn’t quite picture his true height, and the magic misfired. Finally, after several seconds, he simply willed himself taller and waited until he’d passed Lisa again. He gasped as he finished. There had been a sharp, internal pain when he’d forced the magic that he’d never felt before. Lisa noticed and immediately became even more worried.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “It just felt weird that time.” A pause as he made sure his clothes seemed reasonably fitting. “I’m not sure what…”

But Lisa’s eyes had left his face and were staring at the screen in confusion. “Is that Greta Han Dejobbe?” she asked as though not quite believing what she saw.

“Yeah,” Bob admitted, feeling a little guilty at being caught. He immediately pretended his viewing had been entirely in the interest of athletics. “Her first serve has really improved. Even Diana Williams is …”

“What’d she do, get implants?” Lisa asked, eyes still locked on in disbelief. “Why the hell would she do that?”

Bob turned, and his own heart jumped. Greta was bouncing on her feet, waiting for Diana’s next serve, but that wasn’t all that was bouncing. Her shirt had drawn tightly across her chest, and the front had pulled up a short way above her skirt, in an attempt to match what now had be close to D-cup breasts that threatened to overwhelm her sports bra. Indeed, the two increasingly swollen mounds were overflowing the cups on all sides, and her cleavage was now obvious even through the rather modest V-neck of her shirt. As the camera switched to a from-behind view to track the serve, it became obvious that her bottom had been expanding to keep pace. Her skirt had lifted up thanks to a very large, very round behind that also jiggled a little with her movements. The ballooning cheeks had already begun to devour her panties like an undersized appetizer.

Poor Diana, meanwhile, was beginning to look like she belonged on the junior circuit. Her arms showed only traces of her previous body-builder’s physique, and now it seemed as though the rest of her body was following suit. Her top hung loosely across her chest, the gaps at her neck and armpits large enough to show a loose bra underneath, and her legs and ass looked thin and small in her now sagging shorts. She almost looked like a young girl, and very out of place playing in the women’s championship.

And it wasn’t just her appearance that seemed unsuited to center court. She was frankly outmatched in every aspect of the game now too, even her first serves having barely any zing left to them. To say that she hit the ball as weakly as a little girl would have been an insult to little girls, especially given her own early prowess on the court. Greta couldn’t have been more dominant on the court now.

Or could have if she hadn’t suddenly developed a control problem. Even as they watched, she set up and unleashed a forehand that made the considerable muscles on her overdeveloped forearm jump. The ball was a blur, and impossible to return.

Especially since it went straight into the net.

The announcers were beginning to sound confused themselves, talking about apparent water retention in a pathetic attempt to explain Greta’s new look. What they had no chance of explaining, however, were the increasingly obvious changes as she now lost height. First, her shirt and skirt settled down slightly to cover her impossibly voluptuous body, then the skirt began to move down her legs slightly. Her shots became increasingly erratic as her perspective kept changing. Returns that should have zipped to the baseline sailed high and wide or slapped into the net tape. The only saving aspect was that the lack of direct comparison made her loss of height hard to judge, and the viewers were already noticeably distracted by the new ways her body bounced.

But Lisa recognized it. For a couple of more seconds, she stared at the screen, then she turned, very pale and almost shaking to look at Bob.

“Are you doing that?” she asked fearfully. The size and shape changes certainly seemed in line with what Bob had been experimenting with recently. “You can’t do that!”

Bob looked past her, both alarmed and guilty. How had he let his daydreaming get out of control like that? Both players were looking increasingly distraught as their games and body sense deteriorated, and even as he watched, the five-foot-tall Greta netted yet another ball, slapping the net with her racket in frustration, then freezing as she realized just how high the net looked. She looked at the racket in her hand, only now noticing how much bigger it felt, and then, as though to confirm her fears, the ball girl ran by to pick up the errant ball, and Greta looked in shock as she realized the 14 year old was taller than she was!

Lisa looked at Bob wildly, still pale and swaying slightly as though ready to faint.

“You can’t do that,” she whispered again.

“Right, right. Sorry,” he said humbly, chagrined in the extreme at the way his thoughts had betrayed him yet again. And what would the media do with the bizarre, public shape-changing during the match? He looked at the screen and concentrated, slowly reversing the changes as best he could.

The strange thing was that once more, he couldn’t quite find the mental reset button that had once been second nature to him. He had to actively will the women to change, and the magic seemed balky when he accessed it, almost as though resisting him. Greta seemed to be inching ever so slowly back towards normal height, though she was still obviously bulkier and bustier. Diana was beginning to look at least recognizable as her old self, though she still lacked those amazonian arms and bulging thigh muscles that defined her. Despite feeling early flashes of the same pain as when he’d forced himself back to normal height, he tried to hurry the changes.

And just in time since the match was suddenly suspended as trainers for both women finally demanded a time-out to attend to their clients. There was a loud and building murmur of confusion from the stands as they were hurried off to the dressing rooms, and Bob desperately tried to change them back as much as he could before they disappeared.

“See?” he said proudly. “All done.” It wasn’t true, but he thought he’d gotten close enough that they’d be able to find some excuses to explain the residual changes in the players’ bodies.

Lisa had sunk down onto the couch and was still looking at him forlornly, obviously afraid.

“You don’t understand,” she said. “You CAN’T do that. Magic…normal magic can’t work over TV like that. The distance, the time lag, the lack of … of …” She buried her face in her hands, letting her dark hair hang over it as though to shut the world out. She started whispering again. “You can’t. You can’t.”

Bob sat down next to her and rubbed her back. “Hey, stop worrying. I think I fixed things.” (He was blissfully unaware that Greta would finish the match wearing a borrowed bra and shirt, and would puzzle her trainers and doctors alike when they discovered that her new curves and strength had seemed to come at the cost of four inches of height. Diana, meanwhile, discovered she’d somehow lost a full cup size, an inch of height, and almost half her strength during the first set - changes that neither she nor her entourage would ever admit, since they were afraid the changes were somehow a accelerated boomerang effect from her covert abuse of “supplements.” Too frightened to ever use them again, the sporting world would be amazed when she abruptly switched to a baseline rally game over her trademark power one.)

Bob couldn’t understand why Lisa seemed so disconsolate. “Hey, I’m sorry I let things happen like that. It was an accident. My mind was just wandering, but I’ll be careful from now on. It’s all right,” he insisted.

She looked up, her eyes still afraid and obviously wet.

“No, it’s not!” she blurted. “Don’t you understand? It’s not all right!” Her voice, shaking, dropped slightly. “And it may never be all right again.”

Yuri and Kei walked in silence to the armory. On duty inside was a remarkable figure –not quite human (an identification which he would have found insulting), no more than 4 feet in height, stout and thick-limbed, with a craggy face half-hidden by a thick, long beard. He stopped organizing an array of ankh-based neural neutralizers, pulled a pipe from his mouth and growled a greeting.

“Yurrri, Kei,” he said, his voice deep and with a thick Scots-like burr. “Achh, I hearrrd the rumorrr, but didna wanna believe it.”

“News travels fast,” Kei complained.

“Aye, lass, and a turrrible trrragedy it is to be surrre.” (Author’s note: to sparrre the hairrr of those readers currently tearing it out over my overbroad attempt to convey those wonderfully rolled “r”s, I’ll go back to conventional transcription, unless my mind’s ear hears a particularly dramatic example.) “Never thought I’d see a day when you were asked to turn in your weapons.”

Kei paled. “Aw, shit. Look, Alberich, you…you don’t really need to take them do you?” Kei looked as though she’d feel less naked out of her clothes than without her weapons.

The dwarf scowled.

“What are ya’ sayin’, lass? You know only agents on duty can use weapons.”

“Look,” Kei persisted. “Someone’s cursed us. They’re probably still after us. We don’t stand a fucking chance if we’re defenseless. Can’t you just ‘forget’ to sign us out?”

Alberich looked offended. “Lass, you canna be serious.”

“Damn it!” Kei exploded. “I am fucking serious. We don’t know who’s out there. You want to send me out there naked? Without so much as a hand-to-hand weapon?”

Alberich actually looked doubtful. He had a love of weapons that surpassed even Kei’s.

“You’ve still got your wards,” he argued, meaning the personal protection charms every agent was issued. “The anti-magic in them should…”

“Do absolutely fucking nothing,” Kei swore angrily. “I think the first thing anyone targeting an agent does is figure out a way around the anti-magics.”

“Aye,” he admitted grudgingly. It was a poorly kept secret that even the best general purpose anti-magic spells, such as those in the agency uniforms, were only passable defenses. Not only could they be bypassed by anyone with high-level abilities, but they lost effectiveness with both time and use, meaning that even when they worked, they were temporary. Like medieval armor, they were designed to reduce combat damage, not prevent it. Still, even knowing this, Alberich was reluctant to shirk his duties. He turned to Yuri.

“Miss Yuri, you explain it to her,” he pleaded.

Yuri looked a little panicked. “Um, explain what?” she asked, nervously twisting a lock of hair between her fingers, amazed at how much longer, softer and lighter it had become since yesterday. Nice hair was really cool. Why hadn’t she ever realized that before?

“About the anti-magic,” he specified, then added hopefully. “I’ll bet you ken a way to boost those spells anyway, doon’t you, lass?” He puffed on his pipe expectantly.

Yuri looked at them helplessly, still twisting her hair. “Um, I’m not sure I can think of any right now,” she admitted. “Anti-magic stuff is, like, really, really hard.”

Alberich stared at her open-mouthed, his pipe dropping to the table. Yuri turned to Kei.

“Do you think my hair looks good like this?” she asked, shaking it slightly. “I was thinking, maybe, you know, as long as I was sort of blond anyway, I should, like, get it lightened all the way or something. Maybe get some highlights and curls or something? It could be sort of fun to be blond for a while. Do I look like a blond?”

She asked the last almost hopefully. Kei looked at her frosted hair, too-tight uniform with its burgeoning breasts and exposed tummy, and most importantly, the vain, almost vacuous look that had replaced Yuri’s usual confidence and self-awareness. She shook her head.

“More and more,” she admitted.

“Cool,” Yuri giggled.

Alberich still looked at her aghast. “Miss Yuri!” he protested.

Kei immediately seized on his obvious alarm. “See?” she demanded. “Are you going to let her loose out there without protection?”

“I … I dinna …” he was weakening.

Kei whispered to Yuri while Alberich muttered to himself. “Nice act.”

Yuri looked confused again. “What act?” she whispered back.

“You can keep your uniforms,” he decided gruffly. “But if you let Zhukov catch you, I’ll say you stole them.”

“Do you know how many things have happened to me even while in uniform?” Kei argued, though she knew the anti-magic in them was vastly superior to personal wards. “Fucking useless. Not to mention I’m about ready to lose mine. Do you want to see me running around naked?”

Alberich looked unsure of how to answer, a decidedly hopeful light in his eyes. “Errr, well…”

“They’re demons, too,” Kei suddenly added. “The magic’s chaotic, Alberich.”

He looked grim. Dwarves had very little love for magic, chaotic or otherwise, preferring their axes and remarkable physical strength, and had a famous antipathy to the Daemon realm in particular. In both the serial wizard wars, and the last major invasion from the demon plane before the great sundering, they had proved the staunchest of human allies. He retrieved his pipe and used the built-in spell to relight it, puffing speculatively.

“No blasters,” he announced. “You can keep your lightning staffs and DISCO balls. You’ll be needing them if you find your demon friend.”

“And our teleporters,” Kei added. “We’ll need them to get around.”

“Nay,” he shook his head firmly. “Anti-magic and staves are basic equipment. I can defend them easily enough. Letting you walk out with teleporters…well, lass, why doon’t you just be asking for Excalibur while you’re at it?”

“Excalibur?” Yuri asked with wide eyes. “Really? Do we have Excalibur now? That is so cool. Is it in a stone again? Can I see it?” She turned excitedly to Kei. “Maybe we can pull it out.”

Kei ignored the jest and stared the dwarf down. Of course, it was rather unnerving to be doing the staring while standing eye-to-eye with him, but she ignored their new height equivalence. Instead, Kei decided to play her final card.

“OK, Albie, buddy. Tell you what. You let us keep our teleporters, and I forget about who’s been using the dimension door to smuggle in the pipeweed and Shire ale.”

His eyes went wide. “What? I dinna ken what …”

“Forget it,” she cut him off. “As far as I’m concerned, what you do outside the agency is your own business. But Zhukov and the Council might not feel the same way. Do we understand each other?”

His eyes narrowed, and he regarded her for several seconds in silence. It was very disconcerting to find herself the same height as the dwarf, whose square, sturdy body now loomed much larger and more imposing than usual. Even with their height disadvantage, dwarves were stronger than most humans, and Kei knew that proportionally, he completely outclassed her now. He seemed to realize it too, and came over as though to intimidate her, but Kei’s steady gaze never wavered. His eyes burned into hers, and his beard bristled.

And suddenly, it was over. His eyes sparkled, and he laughed.

“Kei, you’re a lass after me own heart. Get the hell out of here before I change my mind.”

Kei smiled, as much in relief as good nature. She and Yuri handed over their other equipment without another argument.

“You’ll be getting us both thrown out, I’m thinking,” he said gruffly.

“No fucking way,” Kei replied. “There’s no way they could replace a weapon-smith like you. That phase cannon you just invented is fucking awesome. I saw the test last week.”

He beamed, knowing Kei’s love for weapons and warfare approached his own. “Did you now? Aye, it has a bit of a bite, doesn’t it? If oonly we had a real target to try it out on, eh?” He chuckled and then paused, eyeing her speculatively, as though for the first time, his eyes lingering on the dramatic curves only partially hidden by the drooping uniform, and more importantly, a height so close to his own. “Chaotic magic, you say?” She nodded. “You know, lass, if you end up this height permanently, it wouldn’t be the worst fate, would it?” He delivered the line with just enough of a leer to leave no doubt as to the implied upside.

Kei gave a half-smile in return. “You know, Albie, I bet you really know how to handle a sword too, but you know I just don’t swing that way. Sorry.”

“A pity, lass,” he sighed. “I think perhaps you’re more dwarf than you know.”

Kei smile faded. She kept silent, but the words sounded disturbingly prophetic.

In another part of the building, the communications center for the CSA was uncharacteristically tense and busy as field reports were coordinated and agents rerouted. The urgency and sense of desperation were barely controlled as everyone worked to heir limits. Zhukov was examining a new set of transmitted readings when his communicator sounded.

“Yes?” he barked.

“Zhukov?” he recognized the voice of Patel, one of the Council members. “Turn on the sports channel. You need to see the tennis match they’re showing.”

Zhukov swore under his breath but kept his voice clipped. “With all due respect, Councilor, I'm a little busy at the moment to watch tennis.”

“Not this match. Turn it on.”

Wondering what he meant, Zhukov turned to one of the screens used to monitor civilian news broadcasts and changed the channel. His eyes widened as he saw the two transforming women trying to keep up their match.

“Damn!” He signaled to a lieutenant, who immediately started talking to three people at once.

“You see what I mean?” Patel asked. “And during a nationally televised match. There’s going to be hell to pay for this one. You’d better dispatch …”

“Already done,” Zhukov acknowledged. He was using the instruments he could to try to get a fix on the magic in play, but field agents would have a much better chance of determining the who and how for the players’ transformations. And more importantly, for capturing whoever was responsible.

“Renegade or demon?” Patel asked. It went without saying that the magic was inimical.

“I don’t know,” Zhukov admitted. He was examining the TV with a very complicated lens which had automatically appeared before his eye. The magic signature was unreadable. He swore again. Just what they needed – another distraction. On the other hand, it might give him a target to vent some of the accumulated anger and frustration he’d been building.

Whoever or whatever was responsible would soon regret it.

Lisa was shaking as she talked on the phone.

“I know he’s not available. But I have to get him this message. There has to be a way. Yes. Yes. I don’t care.” She listened for a few seconds, watching Bob with fear-filled eyes. “Yes,” she continued wearily. “It’s an emergency.”

“It’s all ours. We’ll have the full report. It’s gonna be huge,” Gabrielle muttered sarcastically, stopping to rest against the stone wall of the corridor.

“All right, all right,” Xena sighed. “Maybe we shouldn’t have investigated alone.”

“You think?” Gabrielle feigned astonishment.

“You look tired. Want to take a rest?”

“Yes…no.” She rubbed her eyes wearily and seemed to sink into her clothes. “I just want to get the hell out of here.”

They had been walking for some time, though at a very slow pace, determined to discover traps and carefully screening the corridor fore and aft. Their communicators were still useless, and they were continually distracted by seemingly random warnings from their uniform antimagics, though if they had been exposed to hostile magic, it hadn’t seemed to have any effects.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t just go back and try blasting that wall?”

“These bolt-casters would never get through that rock. And I’d rather save their energy for more appropriate targets.” She adjusted her utility belt, which had slipped lower during the walk. Oddly enough, it slipped right back down, and she had to tighten it to keep it in place.

“I'm going to shoot that fucking cat if it keeps following us like that. It’s creeping me out.”

Gabrielle referred to the same black cat which had greeted them when they discovered the secret passage. It never showed any signs of friendliness, but kept pace with them anyway, always regarding them warily and with far too much consideration for Gabrielle’s comfort. Even now it flattened its ears as she looked back at it, as though it had understood her.

“Save it. Even if it’s a familiar, we’re better off holding back until we find its master.”

“If we find its master.”

Xena looked around. “Someone went to a hell of a lot of trouble to hide this place. If we don’t find them now, we’ll figure it out when we bring the full squads back.”

“If we get out,” Gabrielle continued pessimistically.

Xena sighed. “Look, either we find the person using the place, or eventually we find an unshielded area and call it in. Either way, we win.” She tugged and then scuffled her boot a little, as though testing it. “Damn, I must have stepped on something, stretched this thing out. It feels loose.”

Gabrielle looked up in surprise. “Your boots feel loose?”

“Yeah. Weird, huh?”

Now, the surprise changed to alarm. “Even weirder. Mine feel loose. I just assumed it was from all the walking.”

Xena looked at her with concern. “Stand up straight,” she ordered, looking her over carefully. “Stop slouching. I want to check something.”

“I am standing up straight.”

The concern turned to a chill realization. “Oh, damn.”

She looked down to check her own appearance, finally noticing the slight laxness and bagginess to her uniform. The CSA outfits were deliberately skintight, since that was the only way to effectively bind the suits’ antimagic protection to their wearers. A baggy uniform was almost as useless as none at all.

Which, the way things were going, might soon be the case here.

Gabrielle was picking at her own shirt and waistband with obvious alarm.

“Shit! Xena, do I look smaller?”

Xena briefly glanced up from examining her own loose clothes. In one sense, she did: Xena had noticed that Gabrielle looked shorter relative to the wall and irregularly spaces glow-globes, and had also noticed the increasing bagginess of her clothes. In another, she appeared just about the same height as always.

Which meant Xena was shrinking too.

Gabrielle hadn’t even waited for an answer. Her loose boots and clothes, combined with the slightly awkward feel to the weapon she held, confirmed her fears for her.

“Damn it! Who’s doing this?”

Xena looked around the apparently deserted corridor. “May not be anyone actively. It could be an automatic defense.”

“Wonderful.” She tugged at her loose shirt, trying to guess how many sizes too large it was. “How short do you think we are?” Her face went pale. “Oh shit! Do you think it’s chaotic?” Gabrielle knew chaotic magic could permanently warp its victim.

Xena was still trying to get a reading on the shrinking spell affecting them. The confused readout from her spell-sensor seemed to confirm just that, but she wouldn’t let on.

“I don’t know.”

“Xena, we have to get out of here.”

“Agreed.” Xena holstered her sensor and just managed to catch her utility belt as the extra weight sent it sliding over her hips. Her once skin-tight pants also started to slip lower, loose over her waist and thighs, and dragging over her boots. She guessed they were both approaching the downside of five feet in height. She lifted her weapon free again. “Guess we test that wall after all.”

[TheoW]

“If we don’t disappear before we get there.” Gabrielle was sounding panicked, her voice rising higher and higher in a combination of fear and her lost size. She seemed genuinely terrified at the prospect of seeing herself literally dwindle away, and kept obsessively pulling at her increasingly oversized clothes in an attempt to make them fit. Her own belt lost its hold and dropped to her ankles, nearly pulling her loose pants with it. She made a small shriek and pulled them back up.

“Calm down, Gab,” Xena tried to sound cool and reassuring. “We only started shrinking a while ago. The spell probably has limited range – maybe a final defense. It just proves we’re getting close.”

“Oh, wonderful.” Gabrielle was already hurrying back up the corridor, hoping to get away from the shrinking effect. She was already making mental calculations about how small she was - or could be, while hoping to look normal. “How the hell did the magic get through our suits anyway?”

An amused voice called out from the shadows behind them. “Because it was designed too, obviously. Why else do you think I seduced that idiot who helped create them? You’re not as bright as the last two who made it down here.”

In an instant, both Xena and Gabrielle had whirled, fixating on the source of the voice, with their weapons trained on the dark, half-hidden figure who had spoken. The voice was vaguely familiar, but not enough to allow identification, like someone she’d heard in the background somehwere. It was a woman, tall, robed, with her arms held casually and apparently without any weapon, but her features were obscured by a combination of a cloak and the darkness. Xena was surprised she’d been able to sneak up on them, but realized they had been distracted by the shrinking magic. Perhaps even more surprising, the cat who had been following them and had lain down to rest while they discussed the magic which had beset them, now stood and trotted over to her. The woman leaned down to rub its ears, bringing her face out of the shadow.

“You!” Xena gasped.

It was an exact if still anonymous identification, for the woman was now instantly recognizable even without recalling her name. The face and figure– a tall, strong body, dark, wavy hair with the faintest hint of red at the tips as though burning, and the pointed ears – were distinctive enough, but more than marking her as a demon, she recognized the woman who was so often recently in Yuri and Kei’s company. She was unmistakable.

The only discordant feature were her eyes, which were quite striking, actually glittering in the darkness with multihued irises, almost like rainbows. Xena was surprised she’d never noticed them before.

But then, she’d never faced her with her life in jeopardy before. The way the demon had revealed herself and took no pains to hide her identity made that threat perfectly clear.

“Ah,” the woman sighed, sounding quite pleased rather than alarmed at being recognized. “I see I’ve been discovered. The price of infamy.” She pulled back her hood and shook out her hair. “How unfortunate.” Again, her tone implied no fear or concern whatever.

Gabrielle glanced inquisitively at Xena, without dropping her weapon trained on the woman. She could tell Xena had recognized the woman.

“Yuri and Kei’s friend,” Xena muttered in an aside, feeling for her betrayed comrades. Their friendship with a demon had spawned any number of muttered complaints and innuendo, and those who had spoken most darkly now appeared vindicated. There might be an innocent explanation for the woman’s presence, but she doubted it.

The woman’s face showed no sign of emotion or reaction at the two names. Indeed, she looked slightly puzzled for a second before smiling. “Now,” she pondered. “What to do with you two?”

“What are you doing down here?” Xena demanded, keeping her weapon ready.

The woman’s eyes flicked to her gun, but her smile never faded. “At the moment, I’m dealing with a couple of intruders,” she replied.

“You know what I mean,” Xena shot back, wishing her voice didn’t sound so high. She knew it was from her loss of size, but it made her sound more nervous and less forceful. “The Wilds are off limits. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, this and that,” the woman drawled, her eyes showing she couldn’t even bother to lie. “This area shields a planar nexus. It’s very convenient for conjuring, you know.”

Xena felt her blood go cold. “Daemon?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

The woman laughed, showing pointed teeth. “Would I want any other kind?”

Xena gritted her teeth and gripped her weapon more tightly. She wished it didn’t feel so awkward in her small hands, and she had to change her grip to keep her finger centered on its trigger. She could hear the slight movement as Gabrielle also tightened her stance.

“All right, Ms …” Xena started.

Again there was a slight pause, almost as though she had to think of the answer. “Albeon,” the woman finally finished. “Callista Albeon.”

“Right. Ms Albeon, I have no choice but to insist that you accompany us back to headquarters. Pending an investigation, I also must insist that you refrain from any use of magic, or attempt any …”

Her laugh interrupted Xena’s standard warnings. “Oh no! Really? You think you’re going to arrest me? It’s too ridiculous!” She looked at them contemptuously, especially their reduced size and increasingly baggy uniforms. “But then, you’re ridiculous. I’m being threatened by 8 year olds.”

Gabrielle growled, her voice dangerous. “We are not 8 year olds.”

“I can change that.” The multihued eyes danced gleefully at the suggestion.

“Don’t underestimate us because of our size,” Xena continued. “There seems to be some kind of shrinking spell in here.” She noted uncomfortably that their opponent’s stature seemed unaffected even as her own continued to diminish. The demon was tall to start with, but she was beginning to look Amazonian next to them. She found her neck slowly drifting up to keep her gaze steady on the woman’s face, and felt an unconscious echo of inadequacy from childhood, as though she was a little girl trying to threaten an adult. “We’re still big enough to take you down.”

She pursed her lips scornfully. “Big words from such little ladies.”

Gabrielle adjusted her weapon which suddenly seemed to have jumped in weight. She could feel her baggy pants beginning to slide again but ignored them this time. “Yeah? You think? Just give me an excuse, demon.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” their opponent shot back. “Without me, you never get out of here. How long do you think you’d last at microscopic size?”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Xena could feel her clothes slowly sagging and settling around her shrinking body. Gabrielle’s pants had slipped to the floor, dragging her oversized panties with them. She could feel the cool, dank air of the dungeon caress her privates, making her shiver and calling tiny goose-pimples to dot her skin. Both agents felt their weapons slowly swelling in their hands, making them more and more difficult to hold. Xena realized that their opponent might be right – she might be the only one who could find or open the exit, and she also knew that if they didn’t act soon, they might not only lose their advantage, but the capacity to act at all. She gestured back down the corridor.

“You will come with us and open the portal,” she said quietly, her voice as thin and high as a small girl’s but with unmistakable resolve in it. “Or we will stun you and take our own chances. I’m betting that we can find another exit that way.” She pointed deeper into the dungeon. “Or at least get away from the shrinking effect.”

“I’m not sure mine’s set on stun,” Gabrielle warned darkly, brandishing her own gun dramatically.

There was another moment of silence. The woman’s face slowly transformed into a more open and angry contempt.

“You agents make me sick,” she replied, sounding quite sincere. At the same time, her voice and manner seemed to shift slightly, almost like another person had spoken. The low lights of the globes seem to dance on her face, making her features less defined. For a second, there actually seemed to be another woman’s face morphing in and out with the flickering light. “So pathetic in your blind support of those cowards and their precious ‘Institute.’ It’s nothing but a prison to keep us from seeking and using the power that is rightfully ours. A perversion – the strong made subservient to the weak and frightened. And you CSA idiots personify it perfectly. You’re nothing but simple-minded military rejects, and yet you hound…” She paused, closing her eyes for a moment as if to calm herself or for concentration. Her voice returned to its previous timbre, and the slight flickering around her face disappeared. She forced a smile again. “So brave with your guns and gear and special anti-magic protective spells, aren’t you? You wouldn’t dare face me without them.”

“That’s not relevant,” Xena said firmly. She had to use both hands to even keep the weapon steady now, and readied herself, both mentally and physically. She figured she’d have to use it within the next few minutes if she wanted to be accurate with it, and had almost decided she’d have to do it no matter what. She was glad Gabrielle was there as backup. “Move. Now.”

The smile persisted. “Very well.”

The woman made to move, but as her weight shifted, she brought her hands forward in a gesturing motion.

“Look ou…!” Gabrielle started to shout, already pressing her trigger, but before she could squeeze it hard enough, her weapon flew out of her hand, pulled as violently and irresistibly as though caught in the reins of a galloping horse. It sailed across the room and directly into the woman’s outstretched palm.

Her brief hope that Xena would manage a shot ended as her partner’s gun also flew through the air in a blur. The woman held both guns up tauntingly.

“Now then, aren’t you glad I took those heavy, heavy guns from you? I think we’ll be able to talk so much more easily now.”

“How…?” Xena demanded in amazement, still looking dumbfounded at her empty hand. The protective magic included in their gear was supposed to protect them from disarming spells like that.

“Silly girl,” their opponent chided as though reading her mind. “The spells that protect you are part of your uniforms, remember? That’s why they have to be so tight – to keep the aura right around you. Or maybe you little sluts just liked wearing skin-tight clothes. Wouldn’t surprise me. No uniforms, no magic, no protection.” She leered. “You’re just two, tiny girls against a demon sorceress now. Look at you – you’re pathetic!”

Superficially, it did seem a mismatch. By now, both agents were under 4 feet in height, child-sized, their clothes drooping comically and threatening to swallow them. Or at least the clothes they had left. Gabrielle was only wearing her oversized shirt and comically large boots, and could feel the cool air around her otherwise naked lower body. Xena’s pants still clung by some miracle, but she had to grab at them now as they threatened to drop. And admittedly, neither woman seemed nearly as confident or threatening without her weapon.

“Now then,” their opponent mused menacingly. “Which of you should I take first?”

“Go!” Xena called out in her high, thin voice.

Instantly, both agents darted in opposite directions, confusing their attacker. It was a practiced and usually elegant move, but Xena had never tried it while wearing a pair of giant, floppy boots which came up to her knees. Her feet slipped, and the boots tripped her, half slipping off at the same time. Xena cursed as she lost her grip on her pants and belt, stumbling and half-falling, the pants tangling with her loose boots. She tugged desperately at the whole mess while making a somersault, freeing herself, and came up unencumbered, albeit almost naked.

And also found herself a perfect target. The few seconds of struggling with her clothes had been all the time the other needed to ready her spell, and she now raised her hand to cast it. Xena stood with cold stone chilling her bare feet, desperately trying to decide which way to dodge, and already realizing it didn’t matter.

But before she could incant, she cried out in surprise as a metallic sphere slammed into her side. The cry turned to one of fear as the DISCO ball transformed to pure energy, and attempted to do the same to her, as a prelude to imprisoning her in an incorporeal state. For a few seconds, the light seemed to consume her, hands thrown up in dismay and panic, but alas, the light subsided, unable to overcome a full-strength target, and the spent ball rematerialized, then dropped to the floor with a dull clank. She whirled towards Gabrielle, furious at the near escape.

“Why you…”

Another ball streaked from Xena’s direction, but this time she was prepared. Her hand flew up just in time and magically deflected the ball before it could deploy. Both agents were already reaching into their discarded belts on the floor again when she reconsidered her attack.

“All right. It’s time I took the rest of your toys.” She made an elaborate gesture, and all of the outgrown clothing and equipment jumped into the air. Moreover, both shrinking women gasped as the rest of their uniforms flew off them, carrying all that was left of their weapons and any hope of residual magical protection.

And much of their dignity as well. Gabrielle was now completely naked except for her boots, which were many sizes too large and came past her knees, and a ridiculously oversized bra which hung loosely across her chest, doing almost nothing to hide her exposed breasts. Xena had already lost her own boots, and now desperately clutched at a similarly useless bra, hanging like a hammock under her chest, and a pair of panties that felt as big and loose as a pillowcase around her privates.

Their towering tormentor laughed at the sight. “My God! No wonder they like these spells. What a delightful way to render you both helpless and hapless at the same time.” She noticed the way both women clutched desperately at their clothes to keep their modesty. “Oh, don’t bother. It’s not like you have anything I want to see.” She watched their stolen equipment and clothing sort itself into a tidy pile at her feet, and crossed her arms. “Now then, if you’ll both crawl to me in a suitably pathetic and helpless manner, we can see to the particulars of your surrender.”

To the woman’s surprise and Gabrielle’s astonishment, Xena did exactly that, starting forward with her head bowed and her arms held out as though in supplication.

“You win,” she admitted. “Please. I’ll do anything if you’ll just stop this shrinking.”

“Xena!” Gabrielle gasped. Then she saw the quick look in her friend’s eye and realized her mistake. She tensed to take advantage of whatever she was planning.

The woman seemed pleased but not satisfied. Her smile hardened. “I said crawl!”

Xena seemed to stumble as she heard the command, but instead of slowing down, the trip made her sprint forward. Indeed, it wasn’t until a split second before she hit her that the taller woman realized it was completely deliberate. Even as she belatedly tried to dodge, Xena had slammed into her knee with as much force as her half-sized body could muster.

It wasn’t much, at least by her usual standards, but delivered with her expertise and at a sensitive point, the blow was sufficient to buckle the woman’s knees, and they tumbled to the floor together. Instantly, Xena was calling to Gabrielle.

“Go! Find the exit! Get help!” She tried to wrestle with her foe, but even with her superior fighting skill, the discrepancy in size and strength was simply too extreme, and she found herself almost immediately overwhelmed. “I can’t hold her!”

Gabrielle had hesitated a second, desperately wanting to go to Xena’s aid. But her partner’s order had been made with such a sense of urgency as to admit no argument. Furthermore, the second she hesitated was enough to make her realize that escape or reinforcements were their only hope. She started sprinting down the corridor, away from the golem’s entrance, and towards what was hopefully the exit.

“Get back here!” their captor roared, reaching out towards Gabrielle with a spell, her alarm seeming to reinforce their supposition about the way out. Xena leapt upon her outstretched arm, deflecting it and giving Gabrielle an extra few seconds. By the time she had roughly thrown Xena off again, Gabrielle was nowhere to be found.

“Shit!” she hissed, turning in anger upon Xena. She grabbed the 3-foot tall, naked agent roughly by the arms, squeezing them painfully as she lifted her clear of the floor and up to eye level, Xena kicking helplessly like a wayward toddler. The woman’s rage-distorted features completely dwarfed Xena’s face, making her seem even stranger and more terrifying. “All right, you little bitch! You like playing rough? I can do that just fine. And as soon as we find you’re little friend, you’ll both wish we’d just killed you here and now.”

But the likelihood of capturing them both seemed to be diminishing. Gabrielle was already pounding down the corridor, looking desperately right and left for a exit or another portal. Her bra had already fluttered forgotten to the floor, and after a few seconds, she had to pause to kick her boots off as well. They were floppy and loose, and more hindrance than help at this stage, like trying to run in golf bags. Naked, she ran as quickly as her still shrinking legs could carry her, cursing as the corridors and cavern seemed to be slowly expanding around her, like some kind of nightmare. She realized she was covering less and less distance with her strides, making it all too likely that their opponent could catch up.

She was down to about 2 feet in height now, and a casual observer in the inconstant light might have assumed she was an infant, albeit one unusually steady on her feet. A second glance, however, would have revealed the longer, lither form and unmistakable curves of an adult woman, her plum-sized breasts bobbling with her frantic pace.

She began to feel safer running closer to the wall, presumably for orientation, but also unconsciously mimicking a small animal’s instinctive desire for cover. She skidded around a corner, and was sure she could see a lighter area up ahead. She redoubled her pace, determined to find the way out.

Something huge and frightening leapt from the shadows of the far wall, nearly knocking her down. She yelped and cowered automatically before recovering herself, dropping into a defensive posture. A moment of more relaxed observation revealed that the ominous shape was nothing more than the cat they had seen before. She started to relax.

Then froze. The cat might be the same as before, but she certainly wasn’t. She only now realized that at her current size, the formerly innocuous pet now loomed as large as a panther, half her height even when standing on all fours, and probably longer if they lay side by side.

Something she had no intention of doing.

“N…nice kitty,” she suggested, her voice high and squeaky (and unnervingly close to a mouse’s, she thought). She started to edge forward, her body pressed against the wall to allow her the most room to pass. “There’s a good puss.”

But the cat didn’t seem to take her hint. Indeed, it looked at her even more balefully than before, hissing softly, its ears flattened close to its head, eyes seeming to rotate in perfect step to stay fixed on her. Its teeth appeared to be several inches long and were wickedly sharp, and its claws reflexively sheathed and unsheathed, briefly revealing nails as long and cruel as a dagger. Gabrielle watched them closely. The claws and eyes and a slight flicking of the tail were the cat’s only movements as she sidled forward. She held her breath and took another step. If she could just get another foot or so away…

The motion was almost too fast to see, but she managed to dodge it thanks to her alertness and long training. The claws raked empty air, where her next step would have taken her, and Gabrielle rolled through a somersault beneath the cat’s attack. She was up and running by the time the cat had hissed and launched itself after her.

Unfortunately, at Gabrielle’s current size, the cat was much faster, and she felt as slow and vulnerable as a lame gazelle being chased by a lion. In no time, it had closed the distance, pausing just for second to launch itself in a powerful spring. That second was all she needed, however. She expertly dodged the attack again, leaping into the air and twisting her body, and much to the cat’s surprise, continued the twist to come back down on top of it. She brought both hands down onto its head, and her body’s weight caused the cat to crumple to the floor with a yowl.

Both were up in an instant, though the cat was faster because of its superior reflexes. It growled angrily, and Gabrielle rolled just fast enough to miss another swipe from the claws. Her recovery was too slow this time, and the cat pounced while she was still coming out of her roll. She screamed as the claws sliced into her arm, but an instant later, she’d used the cat’s momentum and her own legs to send it crashing into the wall.

Now, both were hurt. There were several seconds of quiet, each dazed and breathless. The cat, temporarily stymied by Gabrielle’s unexpected fighting expertise, didn’t attack again, but simply stared at her malevolently, its tail lashing. They watched each other warily for a minute, as Gabrielle backed away slowly, wondering why it didn’t press its assault.

The answer came to her a moment later as she realized the cat seemed even bigger than before. Of course – she was still shrinking. The beast was now more than half her height, slowly growing from panther to tiger size. Could it somehow understand what was happening, and actually be waiting for a greater advantage in the hunt?

The thought seemed absurd. And yet… it still watched her patiently, its eyes fixed and strangely intelligent. It knew! She was sure of it. Briefly accepting the stalemate of her superior fighting skills versus its own advantage in size and speed, the cat was simply going to wait for the magic to make its victory inevitable.

She was afraid to turn her back on it, but was faced with the unpleasant prospect of either dropping her guard or inching away while constantly losing what was left of her size advantage. She moved slowly, not wanting to stimulate another attack, but also desperately pitted against time, each minute taking another inch. Even now the cat seemed to be slowly looming larger, moving up the evolutionary scale to seem as menacing as the greatest lion. Gabrielle felt a sickening sensation as she imagined what would happen when she shrank more – almost literally turning her into a mouse for it to play with. Time and inches ticked away with agonizing slowness as she moved away from the predator.

She was just nearing a turn in the corridor and hoped for relief, when the cat suddenly padded after her, immediately closing the distance back to a few feet – the length of one leap. Any doubt that the cat was simply biding its time seemed dispelled as it slowly, languidly moved now to keep up with her. It stretched and arched its back, giving it the illusion of even more size, though it already seemed larger than any naturally occurring feline – nearly eye-level to her now: a monstrous tiger just waiting to finish its prey. She could almost feel herself dwindle under its stare.

And that’s when she realized that it was part of the spell, maybe even its source. They’d started to shrink after meeting the cat, and her own shrinking seemed to accelerate when it caught up to her. Now it was literally taking her down, postponing the attack and toying with her just as though she was already the mouse she dreaded becoming. The realization made her stomach turn to ice and seemed to freeze her lungs.

They stared at each other for another second, and again, Gabrielle was sure there was more than animal intelligence looking back at her. A familiar. Not only did that make the creature supremely dangerous, it also erased any thoughts of mercy or reestablishing a natural human dominance over a simple pet. This thing knew exactly what it was doing. Enjoying it even. And it was only a matter of time before it finished her off.

The cat seemed to be waiting for her to show some sign of panic, as though fleeing or screaming would be the signal for it to finish her off. Fighting off just that feeling, Gabrielle took another careful step backward, flinching slightly as her naked foot hit the cold metal of one of the grates in the floor. Of course, to her the iron meshwork now felt as thick and wide as a plank, but more disconcertingly, the spaces between the grid now felt over a foot wide. She’d have to be careful moving over it, or she might even fall through.

She started to move around the grate, but the cat seemed to take the change in direction as a signal to move into the final offensive. Its ears flattened against its head, and it opened its mouth to show gigantic teeth as long as knives, growling slightly. Gabrielle had the automatic image of a prehistoric saber-tooth, since it was far larger than any modern tiger. It moved closer to the ground, its tail still twitching, and Gabrielle recognized that it was preparing to spring.

She knew she didn’t stand a chance any more in hand-to-claw combat, but readied herself anyway, determined to put up as good a fight as her size allowed. Her foot slipped on the metal bar, nearly falling into the hole and making her stumble, and in that instant, an alternative out of pure desperation was born. She raised her arms as though to attack and screamed unexpectedly, a war-cry as loud and long as her tiny stature allowed, surprising the cat and making it pause, unsure of the unexpected defiance in what seemed easy prey.

And then the next instant, instead of waiting to see what the cat would do next, Gabrielle had stepped back with her arms still raised to make her as thin as possible, directly over the gap in the metal grid. She immediately dropped out of sight, plunging like a diver feet first into the blackness beneath the grating, the last image her defiant eyes mocking her hunter.

The cat hissed angrily and shot forward, its claws extended and just missing her arms as they disappeared through the hole. It scrabbled furiously at the grating, but the metal grid was far to large and heavy to move, and the cat itself was too large and wide to get through the holes that had served to swallow its shrinking prey. It hissed and yowled frantically, scratching uselessly at the grate and trying furiously to see into the darkness below. It only looked up when footsteps rounded the corner.

Its mistress arrived, easily recognizable despite her disguise spell, and carrying an unconscious, naked, and heavily bruised doll-sized woman in her hand. The woman’s rainbow-iris eyes glared reproachfully at her familiar.

“What’s the matter, Hecate?” Kelly asked. “You didn’t lose her, did you?”

The cat yowled miserably. Kelly reached down to massage it neck.

“Don’t worry.” She peered into the utter blackness that cloaked the sub-dungeon. Distantly, they could hear a rustle of movement, a frantic scurry, and then a squeal of abject terror. Kelly shuddered despite the safety of the grating and their own protective magics. “Whatever finds her down there will be ten times worse than anything we could have done to her.”

“Don’t be too sure of that.”

Kelly whirled to find a man and woman in the corridor with her. Or at least that was what they appeared to be. She knew better and scowled. Despite her alliance with Richard and Natalie, she clearly seemed displeased to find them checking up on her.

“I told you I could handle them,” she complained.

Natalie walked up and looked accusingly down the grate.

“Yes? You consider her ‘handled’ do you?”

Richard was frowning. “I can’t sense her. Too many other presences. Too much wild magic. Perhaps one of us should go after her to make sure.”

None of them seemed eager to volunteer, and the palpable fear or reluctance that even full demons felt at the prospect of the Wilds was enough to indicate how dangerous the depths were.

“Look, we only needed one,” Kelly reasoned. “What happens to the other one doesn’t matter. I was going to let Hecate have her anyway.”

The demons glanced indulgently at the cat, who regarded them warily in return.

“True enough,” Natalie admitted, then examined the naked form in Kelly’s hands. The tiny woman bore unmistakable signs of physical abuse, especially her face which was marred by several large, purple bruises and swellings that were still growing. “You didn’t kill her, did you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kelly snorted. “His instructions were specific. I just needed to … discipline her.”

Richard laughed. “A woman after my own heart.” A wink at Natalie. “If I had one.” He reached out to touch the tiny form with appreciation. “So clever of Zauberersohn to discover shrinking spells that could bypass those annoying antimagics. And even more clever of Scarabus to discover them. I do so enjoy turning an enemy’s strength against him.” He licked his lips. “She looks good enough to eat.”

Natalie quelled his appetite with a look. “Very well. I dislike loose ends, but you’re right – her specific fate is unimportant. Let’s go back.” Natalie paused, looking with a mysterious distaste at their purported ally, as though Kelly’s assumed appearance bothered her. “And get rid of that ridiculous disguise. It doesn’t suit you at all.”

Kelly shrugged. She didn’t much like it either, but didn’t know why it should bother Natalie so much. Her form shimmered slightly, losing a few inches in height and transforming back to her beautiful self. “Not my idea. They needed to see Callista.”

“So do we all,” Natalie muttered, leading the way back into the heart of the cavern and leaving the corridor empty except for a final, faint, high-pitched shriek which shrilled from beneath the grate, and the ghostly echoes that dripped from the walls.

End part 10

Copyright 2004 by Nomdreserv

[TheoW]

PERSONAL DEMONS

Part 11

By Nomdreserv

Karen arrived home in a rush, trying not to think about the consequences of running out on her job. She had gotten herself in enough trouble after her last major meeting (during which she had changed into a confused, teenaged version of herself, ruining her presentation), and the accumulating “personal days” at a moment’s notice. But Lisa’s tone and refusal to discuss what was happening had left her no choice.

She entered the kitchen to find Lisa and Bob sitting at the table, untouched coffee before them, and looking worried.

“What is it?” she asked immediately.

“Something … happened,” Lisa answered cautiously.

“What?” Karen repeated in exasperation.

Lisa seemed unsure how to start. She finally stood and walked into the TV room, turning on the set, and immediately switching to something she had recorded, as though fearful of letting any live program appear onscreen. Karen watched a few moments of the tennis match Lisa had saved using their automatic recorder, but did little to hide her increasing frustration at the apparent distraction.

“So? They’re playing tennis.”

“Notice anything weird about what they’re wearing?”

Only then did Karen notice how poorly the players’ clothes fit: too large and baggy on one, and much too tight (especially across the chest – Karen didn’t think she’d ever seen such a well-endowed athlete) on the other. They also seemed to be having more and more problems with their games. Finally, one of the players froze as a ballgirl retrieved an errant shot, and she realized just how short the woman was. Her eyes went wide.

“Oh my God! She’s shrinking!”

Lisa nodded.

“How?”

“Bob.”

Karen’s eyes went even wider. She looked from one to the other in disbelief. “But … but I thought you said you couldn’t do magic over TV?”

“You can’t,” Lisa nodded. “Or you and I couldn’t. Even for a live program, there’s too much of a disconnect.”

“But Bob?”

Lisa nodded again. “I've never seen anything like it. His magic is operating on a whole other level.”

Karen looked again at the screen, and despite her alarm over Lisa’s news, couldn’t help noticing something else. She turned to Bob with a cool expression.

“Why were you shrinking that tennis player?” The nature of the magic that had so alarmed Lisa seemed to concern Karen far less than its target. Her suspicious tone left no doubt that she considered his action as something close to infidelity. If Bob was going to shrink women, he should damn well limit his attention to herself and Lisa.

Bob was caught off guard by the question. Lisa’s concern over the magic itself hadn’t even allowed them to address the spell’s targets. As was usual when men were caught looking, his response was inarticulate and eloquent at the same time.

“I, um, well, uh…”

Lisa realized the implication at the same time. Somehow, despite having recently insinuated herself in the most intimate manner possible into a committed relationship, the idea that Bob could be looking beyond them was even more alarming than the magic’s increasingly bizarre behavior. In particular, given her own “limitations,” one aspect of his fantasy transformation bothered her most of all.

“And why did you give them such big breasts?” she asked.

“Ah, I, um …” Bob faltered, desperately needing a verb and an excuse at the same time. He was just glad they hadn’t seen the way he had transformed Jen at work. “Shouldn’t we be talking about what’s wrong with the magic?”

Lisa waved the objection aside. “We can talk about that later.” Lisa was always sensitive about her small breasts, and a recent near disastrous experience with an attempt to magically enlarge them hadn’t helped her insecurity. Did it bother Bob that hers were so small? Wouldn’t that explain why he kept enlarging others, subconsciously wishing he could change her? “Are you that into big breasts?”

Karen unexpectedly came to his aid. “No more than any man, I’d guess. I don’t think Bob has a fetish about them or anything.”

Lisa wasn’t so sure given recent developments. Besides, Karen, speaking as a natural D-cup, wasn’t in a position to worry. “Easy for you to say. I bet you’d be worried if yours were as small as mine.”

“Really, Lisa, I …” Karen froze in mid sentence. With increasing surprise, she looked down at her chest.

And with good reason, for it seemed her shirt was deflating before their eyes. Her generous breasts were quickly dwindling, literally shrinking back into her chest. She was already down a full cup size and with no signs of the process slowing down. She pulled her shirt front open to peer inside, just in time to watch her bra cups crumple slowly and sadly, like twin falling soufflés. She pulled at the bra itself, and confirmed two small swellings hiding inside, as though too embarrassed to be seen. They were no larger than Lisa’s, and as a result were completely lost in the oversized bra. She looked up angrily.

“Lisa!”

“Oh, sorry,” Lisa turned pink, truly surprised and embarrassed. She had never considered Bob’s unpredictable magic literally realizing the comment. Then, unfortunately but perhaps understandably given Karen’s comical appearance and expression, she made the mistake of laughing.

Karen’s eyes blazed. “You think this is funny?”

“Sort of,” she admitted before catching herself. “Look, I forgot how Bob’s power could…”

“Well, if mine are small, yours must be nonexistent.”

“What? Karen, wait, I …” Lisa gasped and forgot the rest of her explanation. Instead, it was her turn to pull her shirt top open enough to peer inside and watch her bra deflate (though it didn’t have far to go), quickly confirming that she now had two pert nipples on a perfectly flat chest.

Now, it was her emerald green eyes that sparked dangerously. She had been feeling self conscious and inadequate as it was. “Damn it! Why did you do that?”

Karen smirked and tossed her hair. “It was an accident.”

“My ass!” Lisa shot back, annoyed by the hair gesture and silently wishing Karen couldn’t toss it around like that. “There is no way you …” she froze again, suddenly feeling an increasing tightness across her pants. She reached tentatively around and to her horror, discovered that her bottom had at least doubled in size.

Karen gasped too, but it wasn’t at the sight of the suddenly bottom-heavy Lisa. The hair she had just felt brushing against her cheeks had abruptly disappeared. She reached up, knowing automatically where her fingers should have reached her hair, then farther and farther in increasing panic, finally finding a thin layer of closely-cropped fuzz that represented what was left of her once magnificent auburn locks.

“Lisa!”

“Karen!”

The accusations were virtually simultaneous. And only after seeing the shock in each other’s eyes did they turn with quickly growing hostility to Bob.

He, in turn, was as surprised as they were. He had certainly not willed or even envisioned either of the last changes.

“Bob,” Lisa began, trying to keep her temper and anxiety in check. “Don’t you know how dangerous it is to play around like this when we don’t know what’s happening with your powers? You can’t keep changing us like …”

“Forget that,” Karen snapped, still feeling her most radical of buzz cuts with dismay. Her nearly naked skull felt as foreign as if it belonged to someone else. “Give me my hair back!”

“No, wait…” Lisa started.

But it was too late - it was back. Or rather, it was back and with interest. Karen’s hair seemed to explode out of her skull, thicker and more luxurious than before. It reached its normal length but showed no signs of stopping, quickly extending all the way down her back, and as they watched, impossibly longer until it reached the floor. It thickened and extended, piling high on her head and almost covering her face.

“Enough!” she called, her voice somewhat muffled by a mouthful of hair. She parted the hair across her face, feeling its unnatural length and thickness. “What the hell is going on?”

“That’s the problem,” Lisa answered. “The magic isn’t working the way it should. We should hold off on having Bob change anything else until…”

“No, I can fix this,” Bob offered, hoping desperately that it was true.

Karen’s hair receded slightly, as Bob did his best to reverse the magical outburst, but this was much different from anything he’d tried before, and he had trouble controlling the magic under the best of circumstances. Using his utmost concentration, he managed to bring Karen’s hair length back to something approximating normal. Seeing the strain, she should have left well enough alone, but Karen was desperate to get back to normal.

“And my breasts. At least make them a little bigger,” she insisted. Her eyes narrowed as she remembered the recent episodes with their waitress and the tennis player, and she added sharply. “You seem to be good at that.”

Lisa was patting her expanded bottom, hoping her pants wouldn’t split and wondering if she dared ask him to reverse it as well. Her behind felt absolutely huge underneath her hands, and that hardly the part of her anatomy that needed enlarging. With her huge ass and nonexistent breasts, she was feeling especially unattractive, and under the circumstances, she had little patience with Karen’s self-absorption.

“Oh, stop worrying about your breasts. If anyone needs to have bigger breasts around here, it’s me. Just be glad …. oh….my…”

Not surprisingly, the first swelling of her shirt front became visible. Her breasts had already regained their previous petite size, but if anything, their expansion only seemed to accelerate at that point. Her bra quickly tightened painfully as the burgeoning breast flesh stretched it and then overflowed the cups, like overfilled muffin pans. She turned around and raised her shirt, scrabbling behind her back for her super-tight bra hook, but couldn’t get a hold on it as it dug into her skin.

“So…tight…help,” she gasped, finding it harder and harder to draw a breath. She doubled over, her arms cradling her chest.

Bob darted over and pulled hard on the bra strap, making Lisa gasp but gaining enough slack to unhook it. It snapped like an overstretched rubber band, hitting Lisa with a whip-like crack, but she seemed to ignore it and instead let out a huge sigh. At almost the same moment, there was a strange plopping noise. She slowly straightened up, then turned around, and suddenly, it was their turn to gasp.

Lisa’s breasts were huge. More than huge – they were towering and transcendent: the veritable mammary monuments. They would have been awe-inspiring on anyone, but looked particularly staggering on her since she was ordinarily so small. They were larger than basketballs and hung heavily, wobbling with each movement and nearly topping her forward as her body tried to readjust to the altered center of gravity. Her shirt was much too small to contain her new girth, and was not only stretched as tight as a rubber band around her, but had ridden up to expose the lower half of each breast, just barely keeping in place at all since it had snagged on her inch-long nipples that stood out, peg-like, through the taut fabric. She reached around to help support the immense new weights on her chest, and gasped when her hands barely reached around them, compressing her extra-sensitive, oversized nipples.

“Um, wow,” she said quietly.

A sentiment happily echoed by Bob, though he was wise enough to keep silent. Karen glared jealously.

“Very funny, Lisa … or Bob … or whoever is doing this.” She tugged her own deflated shirt forward accusingly. “Now, what about me?”

Lisa was still trying to come to grips with her massive endowments. She examined them gingerly, but was nearly overwhelmed with how good they felt, almost making her forget what had changed her and how dangerous this all was.

“We should … ahhh … stop. We don’t know … oooh … what effect …”

“Stop feeling yourself up,” Karen snapped. She looked at her own distressingly small breasts unhappily. She hadn’t been this modestly endowed since junior high, and wasn’t used to being the “small one” in the relationship, at least in that sense. It didn’t help to see Lisa caressing her newly goddess-like globes with such obvious pleasure, or notice the way Bob was staring. She suddenly understood why Lisa had been feeling so self conscious earlier and crossed her arms across her chest in embarrassment. “You don’t have to make me that big, but these are ridiculous. At least make me proportional.”

She felt a tingle and braced herself for her own breast expansion. As she watched, they did seem to start getting bigger, but something was wrong – her bra was as loose as ever. Come to think of it, the rest of her clothes started to feel loose too. It was easier and easier to tent her shirt out, almost like it was getting larger. Or…

She realized what was happening just as Lisa blurted it out.

“Karen! You're shrinking!”

It was true. Karen was about five feet tall and shrinking fast. Her skirt slipped to the floor and she stood in a dress-like shirt and wobbly heels as her vision approached table level.

“Bob!”

He tried to stop, he really did, but Karen disappeared into a pile of expanding clothes. As she worked to extricate herself, Bob and Lisa ran to help. Karen emerged spluttering from the collapsed tent her shirt had become.

“What the f…”

She stopped, looking up in awe. She was toddler sized, coming to waist level on Lisa, and as she looked up now, she saw Lisa’s breasts completely filling her vision, hanging above her head like twin hot air balloons with nipples.

“I … I …” Her mouth was dry. Lisa’s breasts were bigger than she was.

It was then that she became aware that she had a more familiar weight on her own chest. She looked down, expecting her breasts to be normal, but received another surprise. They were certainly bigger than before, but looked odd against her chest, covering much more space than before. They didn’t hang normally either, showing the same shallow swells that Bob had unconsciously reduced them too – they were just much bigger overall. The sides extended around to her arms, and the bottom of each breast reached her navel. They completely hid her chest underneath, as though she was nothing but breasts above the waist. The nipples were also much wider and looked to be three times the width of her thumb.

Lisa was the first to figure it out.

“Oh.” A pause as they looked at her expectantly. “It must have been the comment about proportions or something. You shrank, but your breasts didn’t. They’re bigger, because you're smaller.”

Karen looked up at Bob accusingly. It didn’t help that her new perspective at crotch level showed a distinct bulge that seemed to indicate he was getting off on this.

“Bob? What are you doing?”

He was about to explain that he didn’t know, when they were all interrupted by a strange noise from the other room – a soft whoosh like a rush of air. They all turned their heads just in time to see that two strangers in skintight uniforms had appeared as if from nowhere.

Karen let out a small cry, which was particularly shrill in her high, squeaky voice. Bob actually took a protective step forward to interpose himself between the mysterious man and woman. But Lisa recognized the uniforms as CSA agents and held out her hand.

“It’s OK. They’re from the Institute.” She felt a surge of relief that help had arrived at last.

But that relief quickly changed to alarm. The moment Bob had taken a step forward, the male agent had pulled out a weapon. Almost simultaneously, the female agent was examining a sensor.

“Chaotic signature confirmed,” she announced quickly, then shouted. “Active, repeat – active. Hostile intent.” Several flickers of light appeared around their uniforms, as though they had been sprinkled with fairy dust, indicating interception of magic directed at the agents. “Take him out!”

And even as Karen and Lisa screamed, the male agent leveled his weapon at Bob and did precisely that.

Yuri and Kei walked into the Council building. As always, the rotunda was crowded, and even though most people seemed to be hurrying on business, they drew many stares for their unusual size and appearance – Kei under 5 feet in height and dressed in a sagging, oversized uniform with the sleeves over her hands and the pants dragging the ground, while Yuri seemed to be wearing a baby-doll version of her uniform top.

Of course, being at a center for magical research and studies, the stares they drew were less pronounced or puzzled than they would have been elsewhere. Strange sights were de rigueur on campus. Nevertheless, women growing or shrinking out of their clothes were worth an extra look no matter the time or the place, especially among the male contingent. Kei stared challengingly back at one of the curious.

“That’s right,” she said, glaring at him. “And still more woman than you could ever handle. Want to try me?”

He averted his gaze and hurried away in embarrassment. Kei grunted, but Yuri looked after him longingly.

“Kei, don’t scare them away,” she complained.

Her partner looked up in surprise. “Yuri, you can’t seriously be interested?”

Yuri shifted uncomfortably. “No, of course not.” Her eyes swung to follow the retreating man with obvious desire. “Not, um, you know, seriously.”

“Geez, partner, get thee to a nunnery,” Kei mumbled.

“Summery?” Yuri asked. She tossed her nearly blond, bouncy hair proudly. “You think, I'm like, a summer now?”

“Let’s just see if we can find some answers here,” Kei sighed. With Yuri’s reduced intellect, they badly needed someone who could match her magical genius, and Kei could only think of one person.

As they walked towards the office areas and Council chambers, a guard on duty held up a hand and motioned them to the mirror hanging in the entrance hall. It was about three feet in height, with an ornate gold and silver rim, and a brightly polished surface, but seemed otherwise unremarkable on first sight. Until you presented yourself in front of it, that was. Immediately thereafter, a strange swirling disturbed the reflected image.

“My, my,” a sardonic, disembodied voice emanated from the glass. “About time someone cut you down to size, agent. Are they matching height to intelligence now?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kei snarled. “If they did, you’d be hanging in a canary cage.”

“Small but fierce,” the voice returned. Just for an instant, there was a hint of a misty, half-formed, smirking face in the mirror. “And still getting smaller. I expect I’ll be reflecting a foul-mouthed Barbie doll before long.” Kei’s image shimmered in the mirror, and was suddenly replaced by a doll-sized figure lost in a pile of clothes.

“You won’t be reflecting anything after I finish with you,” Kei warned him, somehow resisting the urge to look at herself and disprove the illusion. “Just do your fucking job.”

“I suppose I’ll have to,” the mirror admitted. “Before you’re too small to reach me.” Kei’s image shimmered back to her true reflection. “You are recognized, Agent Kei. And agent Yuri.” A pause. “You’re looking positively pneumatic.”

Yuri was busily studying her reflection, primping and playing with her hair. She paused in mid twirl. “New what?” she asked innocently.

Suddenly, her profile in the mirror swelled to unbelievable proportions, her breasts enlarging to the size of watermelons. Despite their size, they stood out impossibly high, stretching her shirt to paper thinness and lifting it so that their lower halves were exposed scandalously.

Yuri’s eyes widened, and she instinctively grabbed at her chest, relieved but puzzled to find her breasts the same size. Abruptly, her image shimmered back to reality, except that now it looked as though she were feeling herself up. The image froze.

“Nice,” the voice intoned. “I think I have a new pay-per-view picture for the week.”

There was an ominous click as Kei’s lightning staff snapped to full size. Though even before she could raise it, the guard behind them had grabbed her hand.

“Easy, Kei,” he warned.

“Just once,” Kei pleaded. “It would be worth the seven years bad luck.”

“Don’t be so short with me,” the voice teased. “I’m just having some fun. An it’s not like you could just go out and replace me from Home Depot, you know.”

“We could get better service from a fucking Magic 8 Ball,” Kei shot back.

All their images faded from the mirror, to be replaced with a gray, plastic sign that floated into focus. It read “Try again later.”

“Oh,” Yuri pouted, as her reflection disappeared. She was actually becoming quite taken with the look of her lightening and lengthening hair, and she didn’t seem as shocked or bothered by her increasingly striking profile either. “We’re sorry. Come back.”

Their reflections returned, as did the misty, partial face hidden within.

“You always were the better half of the team, Yuri,” it informed her. “How may I serve you?”

Kei rolled her eyes at the pretended magnanimity. The mirror demon was bound to serve, and didn’t really have any choice in the matter. Though, admittedly, he could be difficult about it if he chose.

“We want to see Sorcerer Zauberersohn,” Yuri informed him.

“That’s a mouthful,” the mirror laughed. Kei’s reflection disappeared, to be replaced with a stock picture of Gregor. “There you are.”

“Just let us the fuck in,” Kei demanded. “Recognize us and let us in. Now.”

Gregor’s image faded, and Kei’s reappeared, except now her face was a cartoon version in the anime style, with a deep, comical scowl.

“No mistaking that sweet disposition,” it admitted. “And despite your ludicrous appearance, I recognize you both. You may enter if you wish.”

The mist disappeared, and the guard relaxed. Although he’d clearly recognized both of them, identities had to be magically confirmed, not least because of cloaking and disguise spells.

“About fucking time,” Kei grumbled. “Come on, Yuri.”

Suddenly, the mist was back. “Though it won’t do you any good. Zauberersohn isn’t here.”

Kei stopped angrily. “Why the fuck didn’t you say so?”

“Because you didn’t the fuck ask,” the mirror pointed out. “But thanks for playing. And be sure to watch for our new home game, to be appearing in your bathroom mirror some time this week.”

Yuri was also disappointed. “Aww,” she said. “That was mean.”

“And your point is?”

“Can you tell us where he is?” Kei asked.

“Can I? Certainly,” the mirror admitted. It then went quite silent.

“Will you?” Yuri added. “Please?”

“Hard to resist when you put it that way,” the mists swirled triumphantly. “Sorcerer Zauberersohn is currently away from the Institute, but has been summoned to return. There is currently no reflecting surface capable of my use in his presence. If you’d like, I’ll pass along a message the next time he passes a mirror.”

“What a fucking waste of time,” Kei growled, much to the mirror’s delight.

Yuri, however, seemed grateful. “That would be great,” she smiled.

“I think a specific message will be unnecessary,” the mirror suggested. “At least when I display an image of your current appearance.” It chuckled. “Definitely a picture to put into my personal album in any case.”

Kei ignored the gibe. Instead, she turned her back on the mirror and briefly led Yuri down the Council office corridor and wrote out a message to Gregor, not trusting the literally two-faced looking glass. She then led the way back outside, noticing the guards looked distinctly uncomfortable until they’d left, as though fearful they would catch the curse. It was almost a relief to get back outside where people stared just because of their appearance rather than knowing the specifics of their curse.

“So, where to?” she asked.

“Uh huh, sure,” Yuri responded.

Kei turned to find her friend apparently distracted, twirling her hair while watching a couple of well-favored men walking together. She didn’t bother to disguise her attention to their trim backsides.

“Um, Yuri?” Kei prompted.

“Oh, sorry,” Yuri blushed at being caught. “Um, what were you saying?”

Kei looked at her in concern. “Are you feeling OK?”

“Oh sure,” Yuri nodded easily. “Just wonderful, in fact.” Her head pivoted to follow another man, and she giggled nervously when he smiled at her. Only Kei’s obvious hostility kept him from immediately moving in. Yuri sighed as she watched him walk away. “Have you ever noticed how many cute guys there are around here?”

Kei felt more alarm than anything else at Yuri’s growing preoccupation, but answered lightly.

“Um, hello? I don’t swing that way, remember?” she chided her. “Now, if you ask me about the women…”

To her astonishment, Yuri nodded, and her eyes now openly appraised a 20-something brunette entering the building. She watched the woman’s buttocks sway enticingly and sighed again.

“Yeah. There are some really cute girls here too. Funny, I never really noticed that ‘til now.”

“Yuri, you’re scaring me here,” Kei said, half-seriously. “I think we’d better get you out of harm’s way.”

“We could go to Rick’s,” Yuri suggested brightly, suddenly remembering how many singles could be found there.

“Um, yeah,” Kei admitted, imagining Yuri’s new personality being further loosened with alcohol. “Maybe later. I need to get away from people for a while. At least until I stop feeling like such a munchkin.”

“I think you’re cute this way,” Yuri offered, then giggled slightly. “Though your clothes are looking sort of funny.”

Kei refrained from commenting about Yuri’s undersized shirt and just grimaced. “Why the hell can’t they make our uniforms out of unstable molecules or something, so this wouldn’t happen?”

Yuri started to answer out of reflex, but lost her way halfway into the explanation. “They can’t use unstable molecules with antimagic because … um…” She frowned, trying to remember. “Because, um, it’s really hard to work with unstable molecules… ‘cuz they’re like, um, unstable.”

Kei looked at her, both worried and alarmed again. Yuri’s knowledge of the technical aspects of their defensive magic was usually encyclopedic and automatic. How deeply was this magic changing her?

“Well, on the plus side, I can understand what you’re saying now,” she admitted.

Yuri blushed, suddenly feeling more embarrassed and conspicuous than anything her bulging breasts had induced. Kei’s idea to lie low suddenly sounded pretty good. “So, where should we go? The barracks?”

Kei imagined the attention and torments they could expect from their fellow agents. Even those without personal grievances like Conner wouldn’t be able to resist teasing them. And while she felt she could still handle herself, she didn’t want to leave Yuri open to their barbs.

“No way. Too many people around.”

“My personal apartment is just off campus,” Yuri suggested.

Anyplace they could be alone sounded good, and Kei imagined it as a peaceful retreat from their unraveling world. Even better, Yuri had a node for teleportation, a perk from her established rank in the CSA. They could literally be there in a blink of an eye, and Gregor could join them just as easily. “Perfect,” she agreed. She lifted her teleport control, the magical crystals inlaid on the surface blinking in their holding pattern. “What are the coordinates?”

Yuri looked at her blankly. “The what?”

“You know. The induction sequence.” Teleportation required a precise induction. Just as spatial coordinates were critical in any terrestrial navigation, the magical vectors that allowed precise teleportation required the most extreme care and precision. Generally, only high-level sorcerers were capable of such a feat, and then after carefully examining their magical flux charts and records. Thus, most agents could only have their teleporters preprogrammed and set for two points: one for the mission destination, and the other for their return. Nodal points, on the other hand, established fixed coordinates, like a telephone number, and could be accessed more freely. One of the bonuses Kei had working with Yuri was that her friend could program virtually any existing nodal sequence from memory. It was a feat beyond the abilities of even most full mages, and a huge advantage for their coming and going.

Yuri just stared, a look of growing panic on her face. “I…I don’t remember.”

“What?”

Yuri cradled her head. “Everything’s so fuzzy. It’s like the harder I try to think the more my thoughts get blown around.”

“Aw, shit,” Kei sighed. “We can’t have anyone program them for us. We’re not even supposed to have them anymore.”

“I know, I know,” Yuri said helplessly. Their movements would be severely hampered if they couldn’t the teleporters.

“Come on, Yuri, you can do it.”

Yuri frowned. Kei’s exhortation seemed to dispel the clouds in her thoughts, at least a little, as though her partner’s faith was a cure in itself. Numbers and formulas floated tantalizingly close to mind. “I … I, um …”

Kei watched her mental struggle. Oddly, Yuri’s hair didn’t seem quite as light as it had mere moments before, though Kei assumed that was a trick of the light. Suddenly, Yuri looked up.

“OK, I think I remember.”

“You think?” Kei asked accusingly. Random teleportations could be extremely dangerous, even fatal.

Yuri looked at her, afraid to lose concentration for even a second, and angry at herself for her limitation. “Yeah. I think. Do you trust me?”

Kei let out a deep breath and smiled. “Put it that way, partner, and it’s real easy. Always have and always will.” She put both hands on Yuri’s waist to make sure they were connected for the trip. “Let’s go.”

Yuri felt a surge of pride, more at Kei’s obvious and complete trust than at her own intellectual recovery. She touched her own teleporter, her fingers moving quickly and almost automatically. (Indeed, fortunately her unconscious recalled the sequence more easily than her conscious mind.) A second later, there was a popping noise as imploding air rushed into a suddenly empty space, and both women had disappeared.

Xena panted erratically, trying to force air into her burning lungs while not making too much noise. She hadn’t been able to rest for hours now, and exhaustion was taking its toll, making her situation even more dangerous. She stood now with her back flattened against the wall, listening intently for any sound from the adjacent corridors, her naked body glistening with sweat and the smooth surface of the polished wood wall slick against her skin. The path in front of her was narrow, with sharply angled turns and halls, made many times worse since they’d added the new barrier walls, a literal maze almost impossible to navigate accurately.

And she was being hunted.

The safest course would be to remain still, of course: to pick a defensible spot with decent sight lines and simply wait. That prospect certainly appealed to her tired, aching body, but she also needed food and water, and both were also hidden somewhere in the labyrinth, and frequently moved to keep her from staying near them. If she wanted to eat or drink, she would have to find them.

Before she was found. And that was becoming all but impossible. She hadn’t had a good drink in over 4 hours, not since the new maze walls had been erected. Since then, it had found her every time she got near the water, and the last time, it had pursued her halfway through the maze before she’d lost it.

She edged closer to the corner, hardly daring to peek around it, and again listened, waiting to hear the telltale sounds of scales and claws against the ground. Nothing. Her glistening breasts jumped as she drew in another quick series of short gasps and then held her breath for absolute quiet. She risked a look around the wall’s edge and saw an empty corridor. Taking one more deep breath, she darted around the corner and ran desperately down the hall, her bare feet virtually silent on the floor, her eyes darting alertly back and forth to examine any intersections.

The other openings proved empty, and she still seemed to be alone and safe. Perhaps the creature had decided to rest after all. She knew she certainly needed some. This session had been the longest yet, and made that much worse because of the new maze configuration. The changing layout of the halls kept her confused, and removed her one advantage against her pursuer, making every session worse than the last. They seemed determined to find ways to keep the torment fresh.

She was nearing the end of the hallway, the walls diverging at equal and sharp angles that prevented her from seeing down either of them. She slowed to reconnoiter, drawing closer to the left-hand branch first.

As though waiting for exactly that, something large but impossibly fast, and straight from a nightmare, exploded out from the right-side corridor as she peered down the left. A long, massive body, greenish gray with red spots and flecks, sporting claws, teeth and armor, all but filled the hallway, blocking the intersection. The head was reptilian, twice hers in size, and had gigantic golden eyes made even more alien by vertical slits. Its mouth was also huge, bisecting the head and giving it a snake-like appearance. Even now it opened wide in an attack, and the monster lunged, shooting forward at superhuman speed, its 3-inch teeth bared and looking to dig into her flesh.

She screamed and rolled, her drop bringing her both below and behind the head as the teeth snapped empty air. Instantly, even as the dinosaur-like creature recoiled for another attack, she surprised it by rolling across its back, briefly feeling the network of scales scraping her bare skin. A whip-like tail shot towards her, and the neck pivoted to bring the gaping mouth around, but she had already taken off back the way she had come, making the monster whirl about yet again for the pursuit. Again, it almost seemed to explode through the air, its remarkable reflexes and taut muscles perfectly suited for quick movements and confined spaces. If she had looked behind her, she would have seen it scramble after her while scuttling along the wall, the horizontal pathway reinforcing its alien and horrific appearance.

Strangely, however, the creature paused after missing on its last strike, and clung for several seconds on the wall, watching her disappear back around the corridor. It was designed for lightning strikes, not dogged pursuit, and seemed to understand instinctively that surprise and speed were needed to bring its quarry down. It dropped its massive body back down onto the floor and reversed course, seeking to find another ambush within the maze.

Xena didn’t pause until she’d put 8 turns and about 30 meters between herself and the monster. She did this despite her burning lungs and muscles, because this was the only time she could run freely and be sure she was running away from it and not towards it. The maze was diabolically designed so that the only time she could know where the creature was when she was virtually upon it, and then, if she was lucky enough to escape death, she could run away to stay safe for a few minutes. The creature always seemed to rest a while after an attack, recharging its muscles for the next attempt. At least now she knew she had a short rest before it would seek her again.

Accordingly, she collapsed to the ground, sweating and panting heavily, shaking as the near death finally came home. She even lost control for a second, slamming the hard, smooth floor with her fists and letting several wracking sobs escape her before she regained her composure. She was an agent, damn it! She was better than this. She took several deep breaths, reciting her mantra to regain her calm and focus, and forcing the fear and despair that welled up with her tears back inside her. The sobs subsided.

And that’s when the laughter began.

She cringed when she heard it, although she’d grown used to it now. It wasn’t simply the cruelty in the laugh, it was the volume, for the laughter rumbled like thunder, pounding her ears and literally shaking the walls around her. She huddled, hands over her ears protectively, and waited for what she knew would come next.

She jumped when it happened even so, feeling the intense pain and pressure as her body was smashed and compressed, driving the air from her burning lungs, before being lifted into the air. One simply couldn’t get used to fingers the width of tree trunks closing around one’s body with all the force of car in motion. Even worse, these fingers didn’t seem overly concerned about hurting her, pressing and bruising her body mercilessly as they closed.

After a vertiginous ride through the air, she was unceremoniously dropped, and found herself sitting on the six-foot wide palm of her captor.

Or one of her captors. There were several as it turned out. The traitorous demon who had captured her actually seemed to be the least interested in checking on her or torturing her now. Indeed, she had barely seen Callista’s face since their fateful meeting in the dungeon. Instead, a man and woman usually took turns. She’d initially hoped that they would be sympathetic to her plight, perhaps even aid her against their unnatural foe, but had soon learned that although superficially more “human,” they’d proved even more cold-hearted and cruel than she had.

Just as they were now. She glanced up just long enough to see the huge, looming faces of the pair (they always seemed to stay together) smirking above her now, then deliberately dropped her gaze, refusing to give them the satisfaction of eye contact. She was sitting in the woman’s palm, and idly noted the way her palm lines and fingerprints stood out like crevasses at this scale.

“Almost had her that time,” the man noted, sounding pleased, almost giddy.

“Yes. That flash of panic and fear was delicious, wasn’t it?” the woman agreed. She inhaled deeply as though still savoring Xena’s aura. “And the despair afterwards. Such a nice aperitif.” She lifted Xena to her cavernous mouth, parting the lips to reveal platter-sized, sharp teeth, then extended her mattress-sized tongue and actually licked her, as though to steal more of the flavor.

Even as Xena struggled against the massive, wet and irresistible tongue, slimy and warm, it disappeared back into the woman’s mouth and she made a face.

“Pah! It stinks again!”

Interestingly enough, this was a comment not so much about Xena’s physical hygiene (although sweat and a lack of soap had certainly had their effect there as well) as the fact that her spirit and resolve had recovered, making her much less “palatable.” Nonetheless, the woman screwed her face up in disgust, and a second later, dropped her.

No matter how often it happened, it was hard to not panic in the first few seconds of freefall. Xena flailed for a second, actually looking to grab the woman’s hand, but when she saw that it had already moved too far away, she recovered almost instantly, looking down and around for options. There were none. The floor raced towards her – a limitless plane that would break her body as much as the fall.

And then, an inch from the floor, she stopped, hovering awkwardly in mid air while an invisible force cushioned and supported her. She’d had almost suspected it would happen – if they hadn’t killed her yet, she saw no reason to assume they would now. They wanted her for something. Not that they’d bothered admitting it, but it was clear they wanted something beyond their short term torments.

Not that these weren’t bad enough. She found herself floating into the air, and then over the six-foot, table-top maze they’d just pulled her from. It was the size of a building to her: a single-story warehouse inlaid with innumerable walls, dividers and gates to create a labyrinth, even more difficult to navigate or master since new walls and turns could constantly be added simply by sliding them into place. As she floated above it, she could see that there were literally dozens of blind passages and hidden passageways now, perfect ambush points for the creature that hunted her within the labyrinth.

And there it was – her own, personal minotaur. As they floated her magically through the air towards one corner of the maze, she could see the creature below her, a stalking, ravenous dinosaur right out of a Hollywood horror film. It wasn’t actually a dinosaur, of course, but might as well have been at her size. It was a lizard, with a long, cylindrical, slightly flattened gray body, long tail, and disproportionately large head and eyes. It was probably about 12 inches long in real life, but that was twice her body’s length now, and the lizard’s strength was many times greater, making it a deadly opponent.

And a hungry one. The movement above it caught one of the rotating eyes, the vertically slit pupil fixing on her as though she were an approaching insect. It shifted position. Xena held her breath as she now floated slowly down towards it. Another few inches and…

The lizard sprang around and up, its tongue darting forward. Xena jerked convulsively, sure she could feel the rough tongue around her foot, but an instant later, she had zoomed a foot into the air, leaving the lizard frustrated and hissing, and her captors laughing.

“Aggressive, isn’t it?” Richard asked.

“Very,” Natalie agreed.

“Is it some kind of dragon?”

“No, no – purely mundane. You know how dangerous it is to bring dragons over. You have to learn to use the creatures of this world.” She looked at the angry lizard lovingly. “It’s called a tokay gecko. Excellent and relentless hunters, fast, aggressive and with a nasty temperament.”

“Just like us!” Richard crowed.

They both laughed.

“More than you know,” Natalie admitted. “Do you know that once they bite, they won’t let go? Even against creatures many times their size. People have actually lost the tips of their fingers from bites.”

She reached down to brush her hand along the lizard. Far from flinching or biting, however, the creature seemed to recognize a kindred spirit, and simply flashed a blotchy red at her touch.

“There’s my little hunter,” Natalie crooned. “Did that nasty little human get away again? But you almost got her that time didn’t you? Maybe if we add another few panels to our maze…”

It was true, Xena realized with growing despair. At first, with just a few walls and straight corridors, avoiding the lizard had been easy, an inconvenience and nothing more. But as the maze grew larger and more complex, the lizard’s stealth and short-distance quickness gave it more and more of an advantage. It was only a matter of time.

Natalie had finished petting her familiar, and casually gestured towards a nearby cage. A tiny, pink baby mouse flew squeaking through the air, then floated to the floor inside the maze, just around the corner from the lizard. Instantly, the reptile abandoned its repose and tensed, inching slowly forwards as the mouse scurried in a panic looking for shelter. Unfortunately, it scurried right towards the lizard in its flight. It turned the corner, there was a flash of red and gray, a tiny squeak of fright and then…

Well, Xena turned her head so she didn’t have to watch. She also shuddered involuntarily, imagining all too easily what her future held.

“Of course, she’s a warrior,” Richard pointed out, as though reading her thoughts. “She might last longer.”

“Ha!” Natalie threw her head back and laughed. “She’s no more a warrior now than that mouse. Here, let’s see.”

Instantly, Xena dropped through the air, landing ignominiously but unharmed on the table top. She stood up shakily, only to be immediately confronted by Natalie’s gigantic finger in front of her.

“Are you a warrior? Huh?” Natalie demanded. She waved her finger menacingly. “Come on – show me what you’ve got.”

When Xena simply ignored her, she flicked her finger out, catching Xena hard in the stomach, and both doubling her over and knocking her down. She rolled on the floor in pain, trying to catch the breath driven from her body.

“Bah!” Natalie spat. “So much for the ‘warrior.’ The merest touch of a finger and she’s down. I should grind her useless body to paste now.” She brought her thumb over Xena’s prostate body as though to do it, but stopped just short of squashing her. “Then again, why bother? She’s more abject this way - as helpless as any human without her weapons and technology. Soon, we’ll be able to reduce whole cities like this – perhaps the entire race. Can you imagine the chaos, the horror? Owners stalked by their pets. Whole armies decimated by a few starlings or sparrows. Cities ruled by rats. Oh, it will be delicious! Can’t you just hear the wailing, the screams, the cries of despair? They’ll fill the air. The world will sing!”

“I guess size does matter,” Richard admitted humorously.

“A typically male obsession,” Natalie smiled. “But apt enough. What matters is power. We’re lucky we finally found a few others willing to use it.” Abruptly, her expression changed, as though she’d heard a far-off noise or someone calling her name. She turned and seemed to look through the walls. “It’s them.”

“What?” Richard didn’t have the refined senses or power of his colleague.

If possible, Natalie’s smile had become even more cruel and triumphant. If Xena hadn’t already been numb and exhausted, she would have shaken at the sight.

“Them,” she repeated, as if there could be no others. “They’re off Institute grounds.” Her eyes glittered. “And that means they’re vulnerable.”

“By all means.” Richard nodded in understanding. He saw that Xena had struggled back to her feet. “What should we do with her?”

Natalie looked at the shrunken woman standing wearily but defiantly on the table.

“My pet won’t be hungry again for at least a day. That would give her entirely too much rest and free time I think. We don’t want to bore our little doll.”

She reached down and once more nearly crushed Xena in her hand, bringing her close to examine her expression, and smiling grimly at what she saw. It also gave her another idea.

“I said before that she stank. I think it’s bath time.”

She turned around to another table, abruptly dropping Xena once more in mid air, and this time with no intention to brake her fall. The shrunken agent had just enough time to look down and see herself free-falling towards a giant container of water, as large as a small swimming pool. She hit hard, plunging about six feet under the cold water, before spluttering back to the surface. A quick look around the pool revealed the pool to be a deep sphere, filled to within about 3 feet of the top with water and at least 10 feet deep. The sides were clear, smooth glass all round, and curved inward, completely unclimbable as a few awkward splashy attempts confirmed, and allowing no chance to escape or even rest. Her captors were already disappearing from view, their bodies looking as distorted through the warped glass as their spirits themselves.

Xena swam slowly, knowing there was no hope of rescue or the slightest chance for respite for many hours at least. Despite her exhausted, aching body which was already slowing involuntarily, she would have to tread water indefinitely. Or drown.

In a goldfish bowl.

Belisarius nodded approvingly, enjoying Xena’s despair even from a distance. Richard and Natalie were minor demons, to be sure, but still good at what they did. He was glad for the respite, but now returned to his own dark thoughts.

Belisarius quietly debated betraying Scarabus as he used his magic to slow the decay in Rogers’ body. He appeared to be meditating with his eyes closed, while Scarabus examined reports covering Institute activity (which had suddenly become very active), but in fact, he was covertly studying the sorcerer for weaknesses. Betrayal, of course, was simply a matter of when, not if. Once he had his full power, he had no intention of following Scarabus’ will except insofar as it aligned with his own.

Most of Rogers’ erstwhile fellow agents wouldn’t have recognized his body by this time anyway. To a casual observer, it appeared to be a wasted, elderly male’s, the frame almost skeletally thin as though consumed from within, the face haggard and tight, the skin cracked and lined, and the wispy hair a weak, ghostly white. But a trained observer would have seen the banked power hidden deep within the sunken eyes, and a sense of invisible fire suffusing the body, as though it would burn if you came too close.

Demon possession literally consumed the host body, and Belisarius knew this one wouldn’t last much longer. The energy he had drained from the sorceress, Carol Anne Geist, had proved almost impossible to integrate, thanks to a combination of her own willfulness and this body’s limited capacity. To absorb it fully, he would need to either take a new body or return to Daemon, and he had no faith in his nominal ally about opening the portal to insure his return.

That left the options of a new possession or full incarnation. Incarnation required binding, and Belisarius already had his plan for that later. Callista’s half-human, half-ifrit nature was the ideal ground for binding a demon, allowing him free access to Daemon and our physical world at the same time. Until their plans had fully fallen into place, he would have to hold off.

That left taking a new temporary body. Scarabus himself would prove an admirable host, his natural magical ability allowing Belisarius access to more of his own power as well as slowing the decay rate of the physical shell. Unfortunately, Belisarius wasn’t sure he could best the sorcerer given his current limitations, and even maintaining control would be difficult given the sorcerer’s experience. Going out to desolate another random, lesser sorcerer would be acceptable, except that Scarabus insisted on no further open attacks until their plans had progressed.

Belisarius had just about decided that his best course was to risk the open attack before he lost any further strength when there was a slight disturbance in the air around him. He recognized it as a magical signal or warning of some kind and opened his eyes to find Scarabus looking up with a tight smile.

“He has arrived.”

Belisarius nodded. “At last.”

“Are you … stable?”

A grunt. “This body will last a few days more, less if I need to channel higher level magic.”

“If my plan succeeds, you’ll barely need more than a few card tricks.”

“Card tricks?”

“Never mind. In a day or two, you’ll have your real body. And all your power.”

Another grunt. “And what will you gain, sorcerer?”

“Besides you as a faithful servant, you mean?” Scarabus’ eyes seemed to glint with dry humor.

“The portal. Why is it so important to you?”

Scarabus shrugged. “Having control over the first stable and potentially permanent portal connecting Daemon and this world in over a millennium could be literally world-changing. Of course, when that portal opens, the Council will attempt to shut it down. Best case scenario, the dissension and early strikes we plan weaken them sufficiently that they are unable to do so. More likely, they shut it down, but it takes a day or more to locate and destroy. By then, I – that is we, will have our chance to use it.”

“Worst case?”

“They discover it and shut it down before we use it. That would be … unfortunate. For both of us.”

A smile. “Not for me. Not if I bind her first. The connection is already strong.”

“Not strong enough, apparently.” Scarabus smiled back as he saw Belisarius’s expression betray the truth of his statement. “She has surprised you, hasn’t she? The sorceress, too. I know you have been unable to subsume her.”

A noncommittal grunt.

“As you wish. Perhaps you should take the lessons to heart before it’s too late. Women, especially mages, are no longer the easy victims you remember. And as for me, you overestimate my own risks. Whether the portal remains open or not, the Council will know whom to blame, and that serves both our purposes.”

Belisarius nodded. Scarabus’ plan seemed well thought out.

Scarabus studied him another few seconds. “It would not have succeeded,” he added prophetically.

The demon stared back. The same lightly mocking glint in the sorcerer’s eyes, and a knowing expression, as though he had been reading the demon’s mind while he considered attacking him.

Belisarius grunted one last time. He admired the sorcerer’s confidence, but the truth was, he suspected the contest was simply delayed.

End part 11

By Nomdreserv

[TheoW]

PERSONAL DEMONS

Part 12

By Nomdreserv

“Come on in,” Yuri said, closing the door behind Kei. “We can crash here a while and make our plans.” She tried to sound relaxed and calm, but in truth, she was immensely relieved that they had arrived safely. She didn’t think she would be able to program a teleporter again until the curse had worn off. She would have to fall back on preset coordinates.

“Fucking fantastic,” Kei agreed, also hiding her relief.

Kei briefly glanced around her friend’s apartment. It looked much the same as before, efficient but comfortable. The CSA provided personal apartments for senior agents which were significantly larger than the dormitory-style rooms used by agents on active duty. Yuri used hers extensively, and kept most of her things here, whereas Kei had never bothered applying for one, since the redhead preferred staying in the barracks around the other agents - and action - even when she wasn’t on active duty.

The door opened into a small hallway, sparsely decorated with a few personal pictures and mementos, including a picture of Yuri with another black-haired girl that Kei knew to be her sister. Of course, thanks to her ongoing transformation and blond hair, there wasn’t much family resemblance remaining, and Kei wondered if her sister would even recognize Yuri by this point.

Most agents didn’t talk much about their personal lives, preferring a professional anonymity reflected in their choosing an agency name to keep their own private, and Kei sometimes wondered how much Yuri’s family knew about her life. In the picture, both girls were smiling happily and looked as though demon curses and evil magic were the furthest things from their minds.

Whereas, those were all Yuri and Kei could think of at the moment.

The hall had a bedroom door off to one side, and a side entrance to the kitchen, but led straight to the main living area, which included bookshelves, a computer and an entertainment center, a couch and a couple of chairs. The dominating feature, however, was a collection of swords that took up the far wall, one of Yuri’s few acknowledgements towards her quasi-military interests and profession.

Since this was also one of the few passions they truly shared, Kei knew those swords very well, and walked immediately over to inspect them, as though they could bring some sense of normalcy back to their lives. Those hopes for normalcy were immediately tempered, however, by the realization that all the swords looked bigger and seemed to be hanging in the wrong places, as though somebody had moved them higher. Kei realized she couldn’t even reach the highest one anymore.

Yuri had gone into the kitchen. “Beer? Soda?” she asked.

“Don’t you have anything stronger? We’re not on fucking duty any more, are we?” Kei asked sarcastically. She wished she had that pack of smokes she’d briefly confiscated from Danae, feeling her old addiction resurface from the stress.

She went back to examining the swords. It was an impressive collection indeed, though there were reproductions as well as original pieces. There was an ornate broadsword that looked to be centuries old, its handle and hilt extremely worn and ominously notched; a beautifully-honed samurai sword (a gift after they had dispatched a particularly nasty oni while on foreign assignment); a gigantic claymore, so heavy that most people even had trouble lifting it; and several smaller but no less interesting weapons. Most important and treasured among these was an unusual silver Scottish dagger – a skian dhu. This one’s handle was inscribed with special but indecipherable runes that testified to an other-worldly origin, and had been imbued with extremely potent antimagical disruption spells, making it much more dangerous than its size suggested, at least against magical opponents. A truly enchanted blade, Gregor had given it to them after their first adventure together, a wild escapade that had nearly gotten them all killed (and very nearly exposed the real and terrifying secret of Loch Ness – a story for which the world is not yet prepared). It was Kei’s favorite, at once dangerous and mysterious, and she reached out to touch the blade gingerly, shivering slightly from the unearthly cold of the metal that seemed to suck the heat right out of her hand.

“You can have it if you want,” Yuri said, coming in behind her and surprising her. She set a tray down on the table and held out a bottle. “You’re the expert after all.”

Kei pulled her hand back a little guiltily but shook her head. “Nah. You’re the one into swords. That’s fantasy stuff. I like real weapons.”

It was a cover, but Kei knew how much the gift meant to Yuri, and had no intention of taking it. On the other hand, she accepted the drink with obvious relief. Kei was a little shocked to find that she had to reach up to take the bottle, and how much taller Yuri seemed, indicating that she had still been shrinking. Indeed, she was now chest-level to her, and unless she lifted her eyes, she found her view almost completely blocked by her friend’s burgeoning breasts, a view not without its compensations, but still unnerving as far as perspective. She could see the outlines of Yuri’s overfilled bra clearly pressed up against the too-tight shirt, and thought her partner must be getting pretty uncomfortable.

It didn’t stop her from looking, however. She took the proffered beer, swallowed hard, and tried to think of other things, particularly since her warmer thoughts had just produced a warning tingle and slight sense of shrinking. Even momentary thoughts about sex seemed enough to start the shrinking, and she was desperate to keep her mind elsewhere. She was glad to see Yuri had brought the single-malt whiskey and tequila bottles as well as some pretzels, pita chips and cheese. Food and drink – that’s what she needed. Simple reminders of everyday life going on as normal. She threw herself onto the couch next to Yuri.

“I’m gonna need chocolate too,” she announced.

“Double-fudge brownie ice cream. It’s already out to get nice and soft,” Yuri answered, brushing her longer hair out of her face. “I prefer it half-melted.”

Kei nodded, drank about a third of her beer, and put her feet out to rest them on the table. To her chagrin, they didn’t reach. She threw her head back.

“Shit, Yuri! What are we going to do?”

Yuri had been idly twisting her hair between her fingers, a habit she’d never had, but which somehow felt natural now. She looked at Kei blankly.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, feeling a strange sense of frustration. Her mind felt slow, her thoughts wrapped in cotton wool and harder to hold. Those thoughts she could grasp seemed more and more physical in nature. She was acutely conscious of her body in general, but especially her breasts, so much larger and heavier than normal, yet also more sensitive, making her doubly aware of them. The increased sensations flooded her body, eventually centering in her pelvis, which seemed almost aching, tense and demanding attention. Several times that day, she’d caught herself rubbing her thighs together a little as though that could relieve the pressure. She also felt constantly warm and wet.

In short, Yuri was horny.

What surprised her even more was the fact that her erotic interests seemed to be expanded as well as heightened. She had almost gotten used to the way she was staring lustily after most of the men she saw, her eyes automatically and inexcusably moving down to check out what kind of bulge could be made out through their pants, but what was more alarming was the fact that she’d started looking at women the same way. She’d caught herself several times watching women in a whole new light and with all new deatils – seeing the way their hips moved or breasts bounced as though for the very first time – and it was a very pleasant discovery indeed. And right now, she was only too aware of the fact that Kei’s loose uniform top was allowing more and more of her cleavage to show through.

Her own shirt and bra felt increasingly tight thanks to her expanding breasts, and that made her stiff nipples almost painfully obvious now. She felt a new flush and warmth move through her, and unconsciously trailed her fingers across her chest.

Kei had just helped herself to some chips, not so much out of hunger as to do something, and turned back to find Yuri eyeing her strangely. At least, strangely for Yuri. She’d seen the look any number of times from other women (and men, but they didn‘t count), but had never expected it from her partner. She also noticed that the light streaks had now become dominant in Yuri’s hair, almost completely replacing her once lustrous black locks, and she now looked like a natural, if slightly dirty blond. Suddenly nervous, she cleared her throat and stood up.

“This is so fucked up,” she muttered, pacing the floor restlessly. “I am going to absolutely incinerate whoever did this.”

“Uh huh,” Yuri agreed without listening. She was watching the way Kei’s breasts bounced when she walked.

“But Gregor will be able to fix it, right?” Kei asked, afraid she knew the answer but suddenly wanting reassurance.

“What? Oh, yeah,” Yuri admitted. “Like, totally. Uh huh.”

Kei stopped her pacing. “Like what?” she asked in disbelief.

“What?” Yuri simply parroted back in confusion, not understanding why her words should prove surprising.

Kei simply let it drop. Under normal circumstances, she would have hooted and tortured Yuri for using such an expression, but these were anything but ordinary circumstances. A fact immediately reinforced when she tripped over her increasingly long pants. The cuffs had passed from covering her boots to dragging the floor, and caught during an awkward step. Unfortunately, they were also so loose that when they caught, her foot simply pulled them right down, enmeshing her feet in a web of loose boots and fabric.

“Shit!” Kei cursed, spilling her drink and ending up completely tangled in her half-inside-out uniform as she sprawled to the floor. In anger and disgust, she simply tore her pants the rest of the way off and hurled them to the corner of the room, taking her boots and belt with them. It was an indication of her agitation that she didn’t even bother to retrieve the weapons that had gone with them – being unarmed made Kei feel a lot more naked than lack of clothing. She stood back up with her usually tight shirt hanging loosely to mid thigh. “God damn it!” she growled. “Why the hell can’t they make these things out of unstable molecules or something?”

She found Yuri staring quite obviously at her naked lower body, and suddenly realized she might be stretching the limits of decorum. Again, under normal circumstances, they were completely comfortable with each other in any state of dress or undress, but these were hardly normal.

“Sorry, Yuri. Guess I should ask first. Is this OK?” She hiked her shirt a little to emphasize the idea of wearing it like a dress. Only when Yuri’s eyes went very wide did Kei realize that her slipping pants had taken her oversized and sagging panties with them. She immediately dropped her shirt again while blushing fiercely at the accident, which could only be interpreted as an invitation. “Oh, fuck - sorry. I didn’t mean to …”

Yuri had also flushed very strangely, and her breath was quicker. Kei was shorter, but her legs were still exquisitely shaped and toned, her hips flawless, and her abs sexily defined. And they were all very, very naked. She was still frankly staring where she’d seen a very nearly perfect pussy briefly exposed, inducing near hyperventilation.

“Oh, no. That’s fine. I mean, that’s OK,” she hurried to reassure her. “Really, really,” she swallowed hard. “Fine.”

There was a brief silence. Kei felt slightly uncomfortable at Yuri’s continued gaze. But that was nothing to the warm feeling that followed. She felt the floor move slightly under her feet.

She was shrinking again.

“Shit!” she hissed, trying desperately to think of something else. What could you use to get your mind off sex, especially when you were alone with an increasingly buxom and beautiful nymphomaniac? “The ice cream,” she mentioned suddenly. “Why don’t we get that ice cream now?”

Yuri seemed reluctant to change the subject, finally tearing her gaze away and standing up. “Um, yeah … the ice cream.” Visions of the way Kei’s nipples would perk up at the touch of the cold confection had replaced any desire for chocolate. Suddenly, her eyes twinkled. If Kei could show off like that, so could she. She stretched theatrically, thrusting her chest right into Kei’s face and threatening to burst her bra.

“As long as we’re getting comfortable,” she murmured. “Would you mind?” She unexpectedly pulled her shirt up and off, having some difficulty because of the tightness and getting it past her breasts. Her blossoming boobs had stretched her bra to the point of distorting it, as well as overflowing the overstuffed and inadequate cups. After briefly thrusting her huge, bulging breasts directly into her friend’s astonished face, Yuri turned her back to Kei, offering the fastener in the strap. “This thing is killing me, and I’m not sure how well I can reach around now to unhook it.”

Kei reached up with almost trembling fingers. She had to tug firmly before finally unhooking it. Instantly, the over-taut bra-strap snapped around, and an instant later, Yuri pulled it off entirely with a huge, relieved sigh. She turned back.

“That’s a relief. It was getting, like, really, really tight, you know?”

Kei simply stared, her silence produced by continuing surprises. The first was Yuri’s obviously degenerating conversation and vocabulary, and the second and more physical was suddenly being confronted with a pair of the largest, most spectacular breasts she’d ever seen. They were doubly large since they had not only expanded past D-cup range, but Kei’s own size loss magnified them in a relative sense. They seemed as big as melons to her, and rose every bit as round and firmly on Yuri’s chest. They shook ever so slightly with her movement, confirming that they were fully natural, soft and pliant despite their new size, and Kei found herself eye-to-nipple with two of the largest in her memory.

“Mmm. That feels so much better,” Yuri continued, rubbing her breasts slightly as though to erase the red marks from where her too-tight bra had been digging in. As to whether her satisfied moan was referring to the release or the rubbing was uncertain. “You don’t mind, do you?” she asked after a second.

Kei’s mouth was very dry despite the recent swigs of beer. “No,” she croaked, trying not to stare.

“Goody,” Yuri answered with a giggle, making Kei start yet again. She also shook her hair teasingly. It was much longer, well past her shoulders, and seemed to have grown several inches in just the last few minutes. It had also lightened to a summer blond color, with just a few darker streaks to remind them of her past. She let it fall lightly over her naked shoulders, seeming to revel in the sensation as it brushed against her naked skin. “After all, it’s just us girls as you always like to say.”

“Um, yeah. Just us girls,” Kei admitted. The fact was, as much as she loved teasing and flirting with Yuri, and would ordinarily have grabbed any excuse to get her out of her clothes, suddenly being confronted with her so clearly transformed in both body and mind was making her decidedly uneasy. And the tingle she felt as her body reacted didn’t help the situation. She felt her shirt slip down slightly, beginning to bare her shoulders.

Yuri noticed too. “Ooh, Kei. I think, like, you may be shrinking again or something.”

“No way,” Kei pretended, trying desperately to control her thoughts.

“Like, yeah,” Yuri insisted. Suddenly, she pressed her breasts up against Kei’s face. “See? You’re, like, only chest high to me now.”

Too true. And while Kei would usually love having large breasts thrust in close, she was beginning to freak out about her friend’s behavior now. The tingling intensified, and she saw Yuri’s oversized nipples start to move higher in front of her gaze.

“Yuri!” she complained, trying to push her away.

Yuri seemed distracted as she stared at her breasts next to Kei’s head. “Ooh, it looks like you’re getting even smaller. Or maybe, like, my breasts are getting bigger. Look how big they are now. How big do you think I am, Kei?”

“Big enough to know better,” Kei grumbled, turning away and desperately trying to clear her mind to keep what size she had left. “Come on. I need something cold. Like a shower.” She added the last in a quite voice just for herself.

She all but ran into the kitchen, ignoring the slipping feeling of her shirt and self-consciously tugging it back up to keep it on her shoulders. She suspected she was approaching 4 feet in height now, and was mortified to find the counters chest-high, realizing she wouldn’t be able to reach into the cupboards at all. Determined to show her mastery over something, she grabbed the half-gallon carton of softening ice cream and a spoon from a drawer.

“Mine!” she announced, setting the ice cream on the table and herself into a chair. She was once again unnerved to find her feet dangling above the floor when she settled into the seat, but dug fiercely into the ice cream as though to compensate.

Yuri was giggling again, a sound that was beginning to really alarm Kei.

“What?” the redhead demanded.

“Nothing,” Yuri said. She walked slowly to join Kei, her upper body still naked and her prodigious breasts jiggling dramatically with every step.

“Yuri, what the hell? Put your shirt on!”

Yuri pouted. “It doesn’t fit right.”

“Then find something that does.”

Another flirtatious pout. “I thought you liked my breasts.”

“I do… I mean, they’re wonderful.” A quick, answering cry of happiness from Yuri. “But … but not like this.” The strategic pout returned. “I mean, they’re … they’re …”

Yuri had started lightly caressing their sides again, and seemed ready to drift into open masturbation. She sighed and let one hand drop to her tight pants, beginning to openly masturbate. Kei felt another warning tingle that made her shudder.

“Yuri!”

Yuri looked up and her eyes seemed to clear slightly. She looked at the obvious concern in Kei’s eyes and felt a slight sense of modesty return, at least enough to stop her dropping her pants. Unexpectedly, she giggled again.

“What now?”

“You just look so cute sitting there with your ice cream and your big shirt. You’re so small and everything, you just look like a little kid, that’s all.”

“Another fucking bonus,” Kei growled.

“Except you don’t really look like a little kid,” Yuri continued thoughtfully, sitting down with her own spoon. Her eyes were clearly fixed on Kei’s baggy shirt and half-exposed chest, and Kei realized with some embarrassment that her right bra strap had slipped down, leaving that side of her chest exposed. “You look … mmm….”

Yuri’s words trailed off as she ate a spoonful of ice cream, and Kei was left to wonder if the happy sigh was for the taste of the chocolate or the contemplation of her chest. She felt another tingle and the sliding sensation as her increasingly oversized clothes sagged around her, and really began to worry. Since they both knew her shrinking was driven by her sexual arousal, how long could either of them pretend it wasn’t happening and why? She pushed the ice cream container away.

“Look, Yuri, maybe I’d better go back to my own place,” she suggested. She winced at the sound of her noticeably higher voice, but tried to sound nonchalant.

“Why?” Yuri asked with wide eyes. She touched the spoon to the ice cream, but instead of bringing it back to her mouth, let it linger at chest level, lightly touching her nipples. She moaned at the feeling, and her nipples crinkled fetchingly from the cold.

“THAT’S WHY!” Kei complained, pointing at Yuri’s now chocolate-smeared breasts. “Yuri, what the fuck are you trying to do? Do you want me to shrink away entirely?”

Yuri looked down, almost surprised herself. “What? Oh. Gosh, I don’t know. I was feeling all warm and stuff, and I guess I just wasn’t thinking.” She touched a nipple experimentally again and shivered. “It feels so nice though. Kei, do you want to…?” She actually cupped her chocolate-tipped breasts as though offering a taste to her partner.

“Yuri, no!” Kei shouted, even as she secretly considered the offer. “Get control of yourself. Don’t you see what’s happening?”

Yuri’s face betrayed an inner struggle, and then, her eyes almost visibly cleared, as though the magic abated. At the same time, her mouth opened in embarrassed shock.

“Oh, Kei, geez,” she gasped, using her hands to attempt (inadequately) to cover her large breasts. Instantly thereafter, she ran from the room, returning a few seconds later trying to squeeze back into her undersized uniform top. It was a struggle, and even when she managed, the top was so tight (and small - basically a belly shirt thanks to the way her breasts pulled and lifted it), and her jiggling breasts so clearly outlined, that it did little to hide them. “Kei, I’m so sorry,” Yuri continued. “I…I don’t know what came over me. It was like I was just watching myself, like I wasn’t even in control.” She sat back down, her eyes fearful and full of concern, not only for offending her best friend, but for what was happening – and might still happen - to her.

“It’s all right,” Kei assured her, feeling her own relief. She noticed that Yuri’s increasingly light hair had even darkened slightly again as she regained control, an interesting barometer of her condition. After a few seconds of silence, when she saw how miserable and worried Yuri still looked, she tried to lighten the mood, forcing one of her usual, confident grins. “And to think, I’m actually asking you to behave. Is this fucked up or what?”

Yuri smiled back, glad Kei could still see some humor in their plight. “Yeah, and that’s, like, totally not fair, you know. I think I should be feeling rejected here or something.”

Kei went back to sampling the ice cream. “Partner, when we’re back to normal, we’re trying this again. Topless, bottomless, ice cream, the whole thing.” She gestured meaningfully with her spoon. “You, me, and sweaty, gooey sex on the kitchen table.”

Yuri laughed at the joke and the image. Or tried to. Unfortunately, an aching feeling in her groin suggested that right now, that was exactly what she wanted. In fact, the image of the petite Kei licking chocolate ice cream off her breasts was almost enough to bring her to climax immediately. She shivered slightly, hoping Kei wouldn’t guess why. She also couldn’t resist suggesting it again, hoping the teasing could turn into something more.

“I don’t know. This may be a limited time offer.” She was running a finger seductively across her clearly outlined nipples.

Yuri nodded seriously. “I know.” A mournful, frustrated sigh. “And it’s killing me to do this. But, you know what they say: ‘there are rules about these things.’ When I know you’re back to normal…hell, I’ll jump you no matter what fucking size I still am.”

“Yeah, normal,” Yuri said with a matching sigh. To be honest, as much as the loss of her intelligence terrified her, she was beginning to enjoy some of her changes: her new voluptuous body, her heightened sexual feelings, and especially her lowered inhibitions. Her increasingly powerful attraction to her partner was one example. She would normally never admit to any feelings of lust towards Kei, despite any amount of mutual teasing or playful flirting. She was only now beginning to realize that admitting to them and actually having them was not the same thing. Had the feelings been there all along and simply suppressed? Had the magic actually changed who she was or simply liberated her? What had she been denying herself all this time? And what if she never got a chance to experience it later? Did she even want to be “normal” at that cost?

She held out her bra forlornly, knowing she had no chance to fit in it again. It was a plain, practical style and currently useless to her - a perfect symbol of her old self. “No point in trying to squeeze back into this thing,” she admitted, before adding mysteriously. “And maybe that’s a good thing.”

Kei, however, only interpreted its literal intent. She suddenly had an idea.

“Here,” she offered, withdrawing her arms easily into her oversized shirt. There were a series of mystifying movements beneath the fabric. A few seconds later, her arms reappeared with her bra in hand. “It’s way too big for me now anyway.”

“How’d you do that?” Yuri asked, as apparently mystified as any man is at seeing the trick.

“Come on,” Kei said, slightly embarrassed but exasperated. “Everyone knows how to do that.”

“Maybe you practice more than I do,” Yuri said dubiously. She held the bra up experimentally, and saw that it might indeed just fit. However, even it looked small for her now, and since Kei was notoriously well-endowed, it was with some shock that she realized she was now probably even larger up top. She still accepted the gift with some relief. “Thanks.”

“Hey,” Kei smirked. “Anytime you want into my underwear, you’re welcome to it.”

Usually, Yuri would have sighed, rolled her eyes and looked put upon from such a comment. Instead, she caught Kei by surprise when she looked at her steadily. “Deal.”

“Um, right,” Kei agreed uncertainly. She wasn’t used to having her teasing propositions agreed to so sincerely. She was also now close to toddler size, small enough that she had to kneel on the chair to reach the top of the table, but at least the tingling and shrinking seemed to have subsided now that Yuri had reclaimed her senses.

The daunting size of the chair and table, and Yuri’s increasingly Amazonian appearance made her begin to realize just how vulnerable she was as she shrank. Despite her impressively toned body, fighting skills and long training, the fact was that she was now much smaller and weaker than Yuri, and just about anyone over the age of 10 for that matter. They could pretty much have their way with her.

Have their way with her…

Kei shivered. Kei – always in control, always dominant – shivered at the thought. Just as Yuri was finding her own epiphany about the loss of control, Kei found that idea strangely exciting. She felt another warning tingle, and immediately put the thought aside. There would be time to explore those possibilities when contemplating them didn’t mean shrinking to Barbie size.

Meanwhile, Yuri excused herself to try on her new bra. Kei started back into the ice cream, then had another idea. Her shirt would probably fit better than anything in Yuri’s closet too. She hopped off her chair and followed Yuri to her bedroom.

“Hey, partner,” she called, knocking on the door. She pulled off her shirt, leaving herself completely naked. “Just open the door a crack so I can hand this in. It will probably fit you better. Then you can give me one of yours.”

Yuri, who couldn’t hear Kei’s smaller voice clearly through the door, opened it wide. “What?” she asked.

She had been so concerned about Kei needing something (or perhaps the effects of the spell had clouded her judgment once more), that she hadn’t covered up at all after removing her shirt again. This left the partners facing each other virtually nude.

Kei stood in shock at being caught naked, and even more to find that she was only as tall as Yuri’s flat stomach. She ended up looking up and past two of the largest breasts she’d ever seen, standing out like barrage balloons guarding her friend’s chest. Yuri, meanwhile, had to look down, to see a child-sized woman, completely naked, her curvaceous and perfectly toned body seeming to stand out in sharpened, even unrealistic detail at this size, as though unnaturally concentrated. Kei, combining the best elements of a centerfold model and an athlete, was incredibly hot, no matter what size she was.

They simply stared in shock for several seconds, each secretly and guiltily drinking in the wonder of the other’s body.

And neither felt they would be able to resist it this time.

“What?” Kei asked absently, staring at her gigantic breasts hungrily and parroting back Yuri’s question.

“What?” Yuri agreed unthinkingly, memorizing every tiny detail in Kei’s perfect physique.

“Yeah,” Kei said, as though that explained everything.

They stared several more seconds, sighing heavily as though the thickening sexual tension even affected the air around them, before the figurative spell was broken. To her credit, it was Kei who both recovered her wits and her compunctions at the same time. She averted her eyes and held out her shirt.

“Here. I thought this would fit you better.”

“Oh,” Yuri said, taking the shirt but sounding disappointed that was all that was offered. “Then you aren’t…?”

“What?” Kei prompted, steeling herself but sounding hopeful.

“What?” Yuri answered, proving that both her mental acuity and the other’s dialogue were suffering heavily.

Kei was weakening. She looked up again, trying to read her friend. Yuri’s face was openly conflicted – filled with equal parts of hope, fear and lust.

But it was the fear that Kei picked up on. She tried once more to will herself to forbearance, even as she felt her own lust – and the dangerous tingling that resulted from it – resume in full force. Could she resist. Should she resist? She seemed uncertain about that herself. At last, she took a deep breath.

“Yuri, you know I love you more than anyone. And that’s why we can’t.” Another deep sigh. Damn, she hated being noble. “I just want you to know that I … I …”

“I know, Kei,” Yuri answered gently, recognizing her friend’s turmoil and her own part in stoking it, and being spurred in turn to find a new reserve of control for her own affliction. She knelt down and hugged Kei, somehow managing a chaste embrace despite squeezing their naked breasts together. Each marveled at the combination of firmness and softness as their breasts moved against each other, each breathed deeply, drinking in the other’s scent and senses, the warmth of their bodies and their unspoken feelings, and then Yuri broke the hug and stood up again. “Thanks.”

She found her own undersized shirt and exchanged it for Kei’s.

“And thanks for the shirt too.”

She closed the door, leaving Kei breathless and almost shaking.

“You’re welcome,” she finally informed the paneling.

She walked back to the kitchen with an unsteady gait, hammering the wall as she walked.

“Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.”

She had reached the table again, and found herself chest high to the seat of the chair. For good measure, she punched it too, while muttering one last expletive. The table was higher than her line of vision now, the furniture looking like something out of Jack and the beanstalk, but she didn’t care. Indeed, everything loomed gigantically around her, but the possible lost opportunity loomed largest of all. She had almost decided to turn around and throw that door open again (figuratively, and literally - assuming she could reach the handle), when she was interrupted by a cruel laugh and a woman’s voice emanating from the other room.

“Apparently our little slut has lost her nerve along with her size.”

Kei spun around, already recognizing that voice. As if in confirmation, the answering voice of the intruder’s partner sounded from behind her in the kitchen.

“And her tactical sense. I think we’ve taken her completely by surprise.”

Kei started to turn again, but realized she was already outflanked. She made a snap decision and dove for her abandoned clothes and associated weapons in the adjoining room.

“I don’t think so,” the woman announced.

Kei found herself literally suspended in mid air, floating and paralyzed. She floated backwards, over to the table, as Richard and Natalie fully revealed themselves, dropping their cloaking spells.

“I've put the other one to sleep,” Richard said.

“Excellent.” Natalie replied. “It’s so easy when they leave themselves open like this, isn’t it. Almost unfair.”

A laugh. “As if we were ever fair!”

“True.” She turned towards Kei, still frozen in mid jump. “Hello, poppet.”

Kei felt a surge of fury at finding her nemesis right in front of her, and utter frustration at not being able to do anything about it. And something threatening to displace both of those emotions: she tried to fight the sickening fear that rose within her, as she remembered what had happened the last time Natalie had held her helpless.

“Ooh, there it is,” Richard sniffed appreciatively, sensing the fear despite Kei’s efforts. “She remembers you, dear.”

“As well she should,” Natalie snapped. Kei was floating at eye level, and Natalie stepped up to bring her face right next to her, her eyes burning. “I told you we’d meet again, loveling.”

Through great effort, Kei managed to make her mouth and tongue move slightly. “Fuck off.”

Natalie laughed. “Still feisty. I like that in my toys.”

“She almost is a toy,” Richard said. “Certainly if she gets a little smaller.”

“Excellent idea,” Natalie said, gesturing and letting Kei drop to the table.

Kei was already scrambling to her feet when a strong tingling overtook her body. The table seemed to move under her feet, making it hard to keep her balance. It took a second of seeing the world expand around her like an inflating balloon before she realized that it wasn’t the table moving, it was her feet – they were shrinking and sliding along its surface. Soon, it was the size of a playing field around her, and Richard and Natalie loomed like giants.

She ignored the setback, glad only to find that the paralysis was gone. Despite the new obstacles, she immediately ran towards the table edge closest to her clothes and weapons in the other room.

“I think our toy is still thinking of escaping,” Richard laughed.

“Maybe she’s still a little too lifelike,” Natalie mused.

Kei tripped in mid stride, finding her left leg had suddenly gone stiff. She sprawled onto the table, tried to come back to a ready position, and found her other leg beginning to lock in place as well. She reached down to her knees to try to bend them.

And recoiled in shock. Her skin felt cold and smooth and strangely numb, completely foreign beneath her fingers as though it belonged to someone else. She examined it to find it was shiny and pink, and becoming harder with each second. In fact, it wasn’t skin at all.

It was plastic.

She watched in terror as the transformation spread through her legs. The creeping horror moved down to her feet, and her toes began to fuse while her feet arched, the better to eventually fit tiny, plastic high heels. Her thighs became hard and rigid, the glistening of her natural sweat replaced by the artificial shininess of the plastic, the skin deadening under her fingers even while she reached down to massage them, as though rubbing them could somehow reverse the transformation. It couldn’t, and soon she found her hands pushing against unyielding, hard plastic.

She was effectively immobilized again, her upper body and torso still completely normal, but her lower body replaced by cold plastic: paralyzed and senseless, feeling nothing and incapable of independent movement.

But still it didn’t stop. The coldness and numbness touched her pelvis now, and suddenly, she couldn’t feel the table underneath her bottom anymore. She lifted slightly off the table as the natural flexibility of skin, fat and muscle in her shapely behind was replaced by the hardness of featureless plastic buttocks.

“Oh, God, no!” she moaned, tipping slightly as she lost the ability to balance or sit, and was reduced to propping herself up with her arms. She watched in literally numbing horror as the magic swallowed the rest of her pelvis. Her sex disappeared, the hair shrinking back into her skin, replaced by the same unnatural shininess, and the vaginal lips briefly fusing before disappearing entirely into a seamless pink, plastic curve. It was too much, and Kei dropped all pretense of defiance or fortitude.

“Yuri! YURI!” she began to scream, her voice wild and forlorn. The last call was broken by sobs.

Even if her tiny voice could have carried, she knew it wouldn’t have mattered. In fact, if Yuri had been able to respond, Kei would have only screamed for her to get away.

Kei found herself having to lie down inch by inch as the plastic moved into her abdomen, making it impossible to bend. Her toned, muscular abs smoothed into a faint line etching on the plastic skin of the doll. Her breasts rose into an unnatural roundness, then hardened, the nipples first sinking into the breast, then fading away entirely, leaving only the unbroken curve of pink plastic to each dome. Her chest stopped moving, and she felt a new wave of panic when she found she couldn’t breathe, making small gasping noises as she tried to move air just by swallowing it.

But, of course, the magic obviated the need for breathing. As the rest of her body changed over to lifeless plastic, she found she even lost the urge to breathe. Now her arms became stiff and numb. She felt her fingers fuse together, and tried one last time to raise them, only to have them drop with a clunk beside her.

The cold spread to her neck. She couldn’t even turn her head anymore to look at her tormentors. Seeming to realize this, Natalie moved into position over her body, her giant face completely filling Kei’s field of view, and a cruel smile dominating that face.

“Are we having fun, lover?”

A strange numbness swept over and through Kei’s head, representing the final stages of the transformation. She felt her lips shift into a fixed smile before fusing together, a ghastly rictus belying the absolute horror and desperation surging within her. She felt the plastic move to engulf her eyes, she assumed it was the last sight she would see.

But she was wrong. The transformation was complete, but somehow, she was still aware and fully conscious. Despite being trapped inside a lifeless, plastic body with painted eyes, she could still think and see. In fact, she had to see – she couldn’t close her doll’s eyes or even blink. She saw Natalie reach down and pick up her new doll. She could somehow feel the pressure as Natalie squeezed her body, moving her joints into the desire position. She felt a slight tugging as her coarse, spun hair was pulled and smoothed. She was literally a plaything in her direst enemy’s hand.

“I always thought she had a sort of Barbie quality to her,” Natalie said, posing the Kei doll into a salacious posture with one hand groping her sexless crotch and the other squeezing a hard, plastic boob.

“Absolutely,” Richard agreed. “And not one of the better models, I might add.”

Cheap, scratchy clothes materialized around Kei: a tawdry miniskirt, torn fishnet hose, boots, and a gaping, low-cut shirt that barely contained her plastic breasts. Somehow, she was still aware of them despite the numbness of her plastic body, and still she could only stare straight ahead with her fixed, painted-on smile.

Another gesture from Natalie, and Kei found a cardboard box had materialized around her, her view of the kitchen suddenly distorted by its cheap, plastic window. Her hands and feet were bound to the box by thick, plastic ties, locking her in place. Natalie peered once more inside the window.

“Goodbye, poppet.”

And then, the face vanished. For a moment, Kei assumed Natalie had teleported away, but the changed scenery visible through the plastic window of her newly constructed prison proved that it was Kei who had moved. There was no sign of Yuri’s friendly kitchen, only garish florescent lighting and a facing wall filled with row upon row of dolls in colorful boxes designed to catch a child’s eye, their smiling, plastic faces eerily matching her own.

She was in a toy store.

Aching, frozen minutes passed. Shoppers walked by, oblivious to the agent trapped in a living, plastic hell before their eyes. At last, a young girl, no more than 4 or 5 years old but still a giantess to the doll-sized Kei, came into view. She was eagerly examining all the familiar Barbie models for something new, and stopped in front of Kei with a wide-eyed exclamation of excitement. Kei felt the earthquake as her world shifted, the girl’s face filling her view as she brought the package close.

“Mommy, mommy! Here’s one I don’t have!”

The young mother, still distracted by another item she was examining finally looked up.

“Oh, Ashley, not another Barbie. You have so …”

As she looked at the package in the excited girl’s hands, her speech stopped and her own eyes widened. Expressions of incredulous anger and outrage swept her face in waves, and she snatched the doll’s box away from her surprised daughter.

“Total Slut Barbie™!” she gasped, reading the packaging in disbelief. “See how Barbie affords all those outrageous toys. Watch as she humiliates Ken ™, who everyone knows can’t get it up. Buy the whole line and start your own Barbie brothel.” She paused, unwilling to read on as the package descriptions became more graphic about the doll’s “special features.”

“Can I get …?” the daughter started to ask before comprehending the expression of unbelievable anger on her mother’s face. She quickly picked a Malibu Barbie off another shelf. “I can get this one instead,” she suggested quietly.

The mother’s mouth was still working in silent fury, but she finally managed to find her voice again.

“This … is … an … abomination!” she declared.

And she had no idea just how right she was.

Bob woke up, disoriented and dazed, and simply stared for long seconds at the white ceiling above him, letting fixtures slowly drift into focus. He was lying on a cot, but couldn’t remember how or why he should be lying there. His thoughts were chaotic, and he felt a distinct fuzziness as he tried to remember what he had been doing that he had ended up here, but at least he felt no physical pain and was otherwise apparently unharmed. Just about the time he decided it would be as well to go back to sleep and worry about the strange surroundings later, his jumbled thoughts snapped back into place and he bolted upright, looking around the room wildly.

A man sat near the bed and looked up at his movement. It took Bob only a second to recognize the familiar face framed by unruly hair and a hawk-like nose.

“Gregor!”

The sorcerer smiled happily.

“Good to see you again too. Fit and fiddling? None the worse for wear, eh? Stout fellow. Resilient and reliant.”

There was a grunt from the other side of the room.

“Of course he’s all right. They only used a neutralizer on him.”

It took Bob several more seconds to recognize the other face as belonging to Zhukov, the commander of the CSA. He referred to the device which had the agents had used to “take him out” – a neural neutralizer, a CSA weapon designed to instantly render a victim unconscious without producing any physical or long-term consequences. However, he had detected the unspoken censure from Gregor about their using a weapon at all.

“Overreaction,” Gregor mumbled.

‘Given the circumstances, I think the agents acted appropriately,” Zhukov shot back testily.

Yes, yes, let’s not banter about it. Much more important to get down to brass tacks.” He paused, looking at Bob thoughtfully. “Have you ever actually used brass tacks? I don’t think I have. I wonder why people would want to get down on them? The proverbial bed of nails, eh? Perhaps …”

Bob cut him off.

“What happened? Where are Karen and Lisa?”

“Perfectly fine. Being checked by one of the healers to exclude residuals. Should join us momentarily.”

“Fine?” Bob asked doubtfully. “They’re all right? Then … then the last changes…?”

“What? Oh no, the magic you used on them is still in effect. Too dangerous to reverse it blindly. Interesting spells there, especially Lisa, eh?” He winked. “You rogue, you. In any case, I meant they were in no danger.”

“I don’t understand what’s been happening,” Bob said sadly.

“Not to worry. Figure it out together. Come up with something. Curiosity is the mother of invention, after all.”

“Necessity is the mother of invention,” Zhukov corrected automatically.

Gregor’s eyes went wide. “Really? Well, curiosity must be the aunt then. First cousin, at least.”

Bob was gingerly examining his body, especially where the blast from the agents’ weapon had hit him, as though expecting to find scorch marks or even a hole. “What happened when they …?” He paused and looked at Zhukov. “When the agents…?”

“Shot you?” Zhukov grunted dismissively. “My directive was to take no chances. Your magic appears to have reached dangerous and uncontrolled levels. When Lisa called in to report you as the source for that …” His mouth twisted. “That episode at the tennis match, we had to act immediately to restrain it. The agents were dispatched to bring you here, but you tried to use your magic against them.”

“I did not!”

“They say you did.” Zhukov’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t appreciate anyone calling his agents liars.

“Now, now,” Gregor intervened, waving a hand. “Probably both right. Bob’s magic is most likely working on an unconscious or subconscious level, based on what I've heard.”

“Making it even more dangerous.”

“Not at all. Harder to control, but easier to suppress without active direction.” He wiggled a finger suggestively, and Bob looked at the protective ward-ring Gregor had given him when Kelly had returned as a threat. “Adjusted the magic in your ring. Less useful against external threats, but should damp down the involuntary internal magic. Though you’ll still have to control those stray thoughts. Loose lips widen hips, eh? And speaking of wider hips.”

Gregor looked past him, and a moment later Karen and Lisa rushed into the room.

“Bob!”

Both women locked him in fierce embrace. They looked a very odd pair indeed as they flanked him. Although someone had changed their clothes to fit, the other changes were stable: Karen still three feet tall and Lisa all but eclipsing her, not only by height but because of her cartoonishly large breasts and bottom. They babbled simultaneously, checking to make sure everyone was safe, and seemingly content just to be together again. Gregor smiled briefly at the reunion, then looked past them to the healer who had followed them in. She nodded, as though confirming something he had predicted.

“Chaotic signature. Probably wild.”

Lisa looked up from their embrace.

“Chaotic?”

Gregor tried to smile at her reassuringly. “Yes, yes. Quite so. From order shall come chaos, eh? Have to work it out. Mysterious, very. But first, we need to change you back. Bob, if you would.”

Bob looked at him uncertainly. “Me? Change them back?” It was clear he didn’t trust his power much at this point.

“Certainly. Chaotic magic. Fewer complications. Sauce for the goose. Cutting the threads, you know.”

This referred to the common analogy of ordered magic tugging and reweaving the “threads” of existence, allowing spells to be changed or reversed, versus the tendency of chaotic magic to simply cut through them, often irreversibly. If chaotic magic was employed, it was usually best to use the same agent to reverse it, for that provided the best chance for a real return to normalcy. When Bob still looked uncertain, Gregor added.

“Every confidence, old man. No better hands.”

The obvious belief seemed to bolster Bob. He looked at Karen and concentrated.

She was wearing a shirt like a baggy dress, and the changes were barely perceptible at first – the end of the shirt slowly rising up her legs until it had passed knee level, the shirt slowly looking less like a sack and more like an actual dress. Abruptly, the growth Bob was directing accelerated, and she seemed to shoot up, the rest of her legs quickly exposed as the shirt changed from normal dress to miniskirt length, and then much less. Karen gasped as the “dress” continued to shrink and tighten alarmingly, and at the last moment, she grabbed the bottom to preserve her modesty, just barely keeping it below hip level. Even so, anyone looking on from behind would have immediately realized that she wasn’t wearing any panties beneath it.

She was caught desperately holding onto the bottom of the shirt, her legs squeezed together, her hands over her crotch and her body hunched to keep her privates covered, having literally become too big for her britches..

“A little help,” she squeaked.

Gregor was already gesturing. Her shirt expanded and reformed, slowly enlarging to serve as an adequate makeshift dress again. Karen heaved a sigh of relief and straightened up.

“Thanks.”

“Not at all. Should have anticipated it.”

“I think you did,” Lisa suggested dryly.

His only response was an extra twinkle in his eye.

Bob continued to imagine Karen the way she was supposed to be, and she gasped again a moment later as she felt her breasts begin to swell. The front of her shirt began to rise off her chest, slowly regaining an approximation of her normal profile.

“Excellent!” Gregor congratulated him. “Not so bad, eh? Now Lisa.”

Lisa held up a hand. “Wait.” After a few seconds of bemused looks, she added quietly. “Maybe … maybe you don’t have to change me back … all the way?”

The healer who had come in with them frowned.

“Ms. Notokrisse, you know the danger of personal vanity spells.”

“Yes,” she admitted, quickly adding. “But I'm not the one doing it.” It was a pointless rationalization, and she knew it. The truth was, as ridiculous as she looked with her oversized, wobbling breasts and bottom, the extra weight and amazed glances they produced were quickly becoming intoxicating.

“Even so,” the healer said sternly.

“Too true,” Gregor added breezily, then winking at Bob. “And can’t say I blame you. Striking, eh? Indulged that sort of change a few times myself. But too dangerous in this case. Chaotic and wild. Best to stay as close to normal as possible. Relative statement, of course, for the three of you, eh?” He chuckled at his own joke.

“Lisa?” Bob asked uncertainly.

Lisa nodded in resignation, then almost cried out as she felt her breasts begin to shrink. They quickly dropped from gigantic to large, and she felt the heavy, jiggling weight move off her stomach as they lifted slightly. It was all she could do to keep from reaching up and stroking them goodbye as they continued to shrink. The oversized shirt they had given her to wear quickly deflated, swallowing even her briefly average-sized breasts within it, and then it began to look like a collapsed tent as they shrank down to her normal, small size. It felt like she had no breasts at all compared to the heavy globes she had sported mere seconds before, and she couldn’t help looking down her shirt to make sure Bob hadn’t gone too far and removed them entirely. They looked absolutely miniscule compared to before, and she felt like a little girl again, especially in her now ridiculously baggy shirt.

“Damn,” she muttered.

Gregor smiled indulgently, her complaint seeming to confirm the success of the spell reversal. Lisa was less concerned as she felt her enlarged behind shrink back to normal as well, though even that left her feeling somehow less womanly.

“Very good,” Gregor said. “Ready to move on. Full speed ahead.”

“Wait a minute,” Zhukov interrupted. “This is just beginning. We need to assess the danger level here.” He paused to look at Bob ominously. “And suppress it.”

“Bah! Always thinking the worst. Already suppressed.” He indicated Bob’s ring.

“Perhaps. But even that is open to examination. This is not some situation where you can walk in, wave your hands, and make it better. The fact remains that we’re dealing with a chaotic magic no one understands. I have to insist Rhodes remains in strict isolation until…”

“What? Solitary confinement? Nonsense! I’ll take personal responsibility. Stand together, eh?”

To help illustrate his point, he pulled Bob somewhat unwillingly onto his feet. Almost as soon as he did so, another problem became apparent. Bob found himself barely the same height as Karen and Lisa. Gregor frowned, gauging their heights.

“That can’t be right,” he mumbled, running his hands over their heads as though comparing. He raised his hand a few inches above Bob’s head, then up to his own. “Six inches, eh? Maybe more.”

Bob nodded. “I keep shrinking without thinking about it.”

Gregor looked worried. “What’s that?”

“It’s annoying, but no big deal. I’ll just change myself…”

“NO!” Gregor shouted, aghast. While they all stared in alarm, he seemed to be doing some rapid calculations in his head, again gauging relative sizes. “How small?” he demanded abruptly.

Bob hesitated. “I'm not sure. I usually catch it before I get too short.”

“Good heavens! Why didn’t anyone tell me about this?” He looked at Lisa accusingly.

“You weren’t here,” she shot back.

“No excuse. Can’t operate in a vacuum,” he complained. “At least not for long. Explosive decompression and all that. Very untidy. Bad business.” He continued with some quieter remonstratives to himself while they waited breathlessly.

“What’s wrong?” Lisa demanded.

“Can’t be sure,” he admitted. “First thoughts. Probably right. Usually am.” Gregor’s ego was something they had all gotten used to. He looked at Bob earnestly. “I must ask you not to change yourself back to normal height.”

“What?” Karen and Bob gasped together.

“Do not change your height,” he repeated gravely.

“Why?” There was obvious alarm in the follow-up question.

“Considerations. Have to work it out.” When he saw the growing fear in their faces, he tried to smile reassuringly. “Hard to think on an empty stomach. Best laid plans and all that. Perhaps a quick refreshment to restore ourselves? A spot of tea would be most welcome.”

“Tea?” several voices asked in exasperation, chief among them Zhukov.

“Tea,” Gregor confirmed. “Darjeeling, or perhaps even Keemun. Yes, a Winey Keemun would be perfect. This is definitely a black tea problem.”

There was an answering explosion of babbling protests and arguments. Just as it seemed the frustration and confusion couldn’t get any worse, Bob noticed something that left him even more puzzled. He was looking past Gregor to a mirror on the far wall, halfheartedly comparing his reduced height to the people around him, when he could have sworn the mirror started to ripple. Even more astonishing, for just a second, there seemed to be an extra face reflected in it.

And it was looking directly at him.

Gregor noticed his expression and turned to follow his gaze. His own eyes widened, and then his mouth set.

“Zhukov, I need a teleportation control,” he announced. “Immediately.”

The arguments and complaints subsided around him, replaced by murmurs of puzzlement.

“What?” Zhukov asked, not sure he’d heard properly.

“A teleportation …” Gregor started to answer, but then recognized one at Zhukov’s side. He reached out and grabbed it.

“Hey,” Zhukov complained, reaching to take it back.

He didn’t have to struggle. Gregor had already tossed it back in disgust.

“Bah. No offsite nodes. I’ll have to try it without guidance.”

Zhukov’s surprise grew to astonishment.

“Offsite? Teleportation? You can’t be serious.” Zhukov knew raw power teleportations were not only exceedingly complex, but notoriously difficult to control, and frankly dangerous. Even the most powerful sorcerers only attempted them in emergencies. “What’s so important that …?”

“No time. Seems I need to be everywhere at once. Hopefully not literally,” Gregor mumbled, already drawing his hands together to focus the power. “Send a team to Yuri’s apartment, in case I don’t make it. Hope for the best prepare for the worst.” A pause, the air around him crackling with energy. He had closed his eyes in concentration, but now opened one to unexpectedly wink at Bob. Bob didn’t know if it was a gesture of confidence or desperation. “Wish me luck.”

“Good lu…” he started to say.

But there was an interrupting pop of imploding air, and Gregor was already gone.

Copyright 2005 by Nomdreserv

[TheoW]

PERSONAL DEMONS

Part 13

By Nomdreserv

“Well, well, look who’s back.”

Kei was sprawling onto the ground, disoriented and flailing, as though she’d just fallen from a great height. What amazed her, however, was that her arms and legs moved automatically and normally to catch her fall. Indeed, although she received a nasty blow to her knees and hips as she hit the hard surface, the shots of pain only made her rejoice. She was alive and human again! She clutched her herself in desperate confirmation, feeling the delight of skin-on-skin contact, and never thought she could take such joy in something as simple as bending a finger or turning her head.

Of course, turning her head confirmed something else. She was back in Yuri’s kitchen, on the table, and still doll-size, with Richard and Natalie laughing at her. Natalie was contentedly eating the ice cream which Yuri and Kei had started, which seemed impossible - Kei was sure she’d been gone for many hours! The last half hour had been angry wrangling between the store manager and a representative from the toy line about whether or not the indecent Barbie doll she had become should be destroyed.

Of course, time could be relative with magic like this, and her time sense while a doll was open to question. But in any case, the fact remained she was back and human again. Not that this was entirely good news - mercy from Natalie just didn’t seem to make sense. She glared at her suspiciously while the demoness licked her spoon.

“Welcome back, poppet. I trust you're none the worse for your little adventure.”

Kei slowly picked herself up. Her body seemed entirely back to normal, except of course for her size – she was still under a foot tall. Still, she was so relieved and overjoyed to be back in a normal, living body that, for once, the old adage was true: size didn’t matter.

She also knew her tormentor well enough, however, not to assume any benevolence in her return. As if reading her mind, Natalie set her spoon down and smiled hungrily.

“Oh, don’t think we’re done yet. On the contrary. I suppose leaving you as a doll permanently would have been properly horrific, but it’s hardly enough, not for someone as close as we’ve been. One of the first things you learn growing up in Daemon is that there are an unlimited number of hells, and you can only hope to experience them all. We’re just getting started, poppet. I thought the horror of your plastic prison was wearing off already.”

“Oh!” Richard complained. “I wanted to watch them take her apart.” The store manager had been suitably outraged over the unlicensed product, and while assuming a prank, had also puzzled as to the doll’s origin, leading to an impromptu disassembling. A pause, and he licked his lips. “And then we could have changed her back.”

“Messy,” Natalie reprimanded him, before adding more quietly. “And we can’t kill her yet.” The reminder was spoken in too low a voice for an ordinary person to hear, but a shrunken woman’s hearing was more sensitive. Seeing Kei’s expression of interest on overhearing this, Natalie turned her cold, predatory eyes back on her. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun before that time arrives.”

“Fuck you,” Kei sneered, although her voice was a squeaky parody of its normal tone.

Perhaps it was this very squeaky quality which prompted Natalie’s next idea. She pointed a finger at Kei and smiled again.

“You seem very brave for one so small. Perhaps we can change that.”

Kei felt a strange tingle as that finger aligned with her, and knew she’d been hit with another spell. Moments later, there was an alien feeling of pressure in her behind, just where her back met her buttocks. It almost felt like she was straining to go to the bathroom, except that the sensation was entirely involuntary. The pressure built until it was actually painful, and then there was an abrupt sense of relief, as though whatever had been holding it back was released. It was immediately replaced by an even odder feeling, like something extending from her body, at once foreign and familiar, again reminding her of releasing her bowels.

She didn’t want to take her eyes off Natalie, so she reached behind her to find out what was happening, perhaps expecting she was soiling herself. To her astonishment, she felt her fingers contact a part of her body well before they should have – something thin and round and warm which jumped in her hand when she touched it, almost like an extended, super-long finger except that it was softer and more pliable. But it was sensitive – very sensitive: the answering jolt of sensation was unlike anything she’d ever felt.

As well it should be, because she’d never had a tail before.

She forgot about watching Natalie and turned in astonishment. Her fingers clutched convulsively, and she found they held the tip of a long tail in their grasp. It was warm, soft and covered in downy, reddish grey fur. The tail jerked in surprise as she touched it, a reflex movement which she recognized as already integrated into her body’s involuntary system.

“Eek!” she screamed.

The sound was even higher pitched than her shrunken voice had been before, and it came out almost despite her best efforts to control it. She realized in shock that the sound was also more reflex than voluntary – an animal instinct - and shuddered as she recognized what was happening. She turned back to Natalie.

“You b … b … biftch!” she breathed, her words harder to form as her tongue fumbled against suddenly overlong incisors. Her front teeth had already elongated enough to give her a buck-toothed appearance, and still they crept forward, curving slightly to overlap and cover her lower pair.

“Say ‘cheese’,” Natalie teased happily, pretending to hold a camera. “Oh, wait. You probably can’t anything any more. Such a shame. On the other hand, I bet it’ll be your favorite food now.”

Kei could see her nose sticking farther in front of her face and twitched it a little experimentally. It was probably the wrong thing to do, since she found the twitching continued automatically, and a whole new range of odors became obvious through the more familiar ones of the kitchen. Most importantly, she became aware of every kind of food – wonderful, glorious food – from every corner, most of which had smells too faint or subtle for humans to detect.

But, of course, her nose wasn’t human anymore. The twitching continued, particularly as small whiskers appeared at the end, tickling her. The tip of her nose thinned and stretched until it looked like an inverted cone and dominated her face.

She became aware of a similar tickling along her arms and legs, but saw that this was due to a fine coating of the same reddish brown fur she had seen covering her tail now spreading to invest the rest of her skin. She didn’t look hairy yet – the fur was too short and fine, more like velvet than hair - but it changed the color and texture of her skin as it slowly crept along her shoulders and thighs, before moving on to encompass her abdomen and chest.

She reached up as she felt another twitching above her head and found two oversized ears which had replaced her own. They weren’t just five times their previous size, but had also moved higher on her head, and she found they moved almost independently, automatically fixing on every small noise in the room.

The fur had claimed most of her body now. She watched sadly as it swallowed her breasts, the last remnant of unblemished skin she could see. The fur seemed to literally devour them, and they quickly shrank in size as though being absorbed. Kei’s large breasts (which she was quite proud of despite occasional pretensions of annoyance over their weight and constant ogling from others) rapidly shrank down to normal size, then smaller and smaller, moving from melons to apples to walnuts, until she was virtually flat-chested. The still womanly nipples and small swellings around them hung on a few seconds longer, leaving her looking almost adolescent, before they disappeared as well, leaving tiny pink nipples poking through her gray fur as their only residual traces.

Kei was about to let loose another epithet against her tormentors – indeed, considered a last-gasp effort to attack them – when suddenly something else in her changed. Her indomitable spirit wavered. Her rock-solid bravery deserted her, and strange feelings of fear surged through her body, making her actually tremble. Natalie was so big! Everything was so big! And she was so small. What had she been thinking? Her eyes darted nervously around the room, and she shrank down voluntarily this time, crouching as if to hide herself.

Natalie was laughing, then suddenly clapped her hands. The sound reverberated to Kei’s sensitive ears like a gunshot, making her jump. The fear changed to terror. It was overwhelming. All thoughts of defiance, even symbolic, disappeared. She … she needed to hide. Run and hide! Yes! That was all that mattered. Safety, dark, corner, hole – her thoughts became more primitive and animalistic. She stopped thinking in sentences or logically. Run-hide-dark: it was all one, overwhelming thought which had devoured all others. All that mattered was finding a place to hide from the giant things.

Natalie leaned down. She made a low, soft noise that a normal person would have recognized as.

“Boo.”

But Kei was hardly normal any longer. The sound terrified her. She squeaked again, automatically and without shame, then began running away from the giant thing that laughed at her. She ran towards the center of the table, where sugar and fruit bowls and a vase promised blessed shelter. She hadn’t run three steps before she felt a pain in her back, arching as though in spasm. She stumbled and caught herself with her hands when she started to fall. Scrambling along with her hands to help actually made her back feel better and she continued the awkward shuffle for another few steps, her back curving and changing shape to lock the posture in. Within a few seconds, running with both her hands and feet felt more natural than trying to stand back up, and she didn’t even notice as her fingers changed shape to mimic her toes, and short, sharp claws replaced the nails on both.

And with one last squeak and flick of her tail, Kei the mouse disappeared into the clutter at the center of the tail.

Richard and Natalie were laughing uproariously. Richard applauded.

“Did you see her expression when her nose started to grow?”

“No, no – it was when she found the tail.”

“And all that bravery – gone in moments. Did you see the way she ran when you made a noise?”

“Delicious,” Natalie agreed, sniffing the air and savoring the residuals.

“Oh!” Richard exclaimed eagerly. “Let’s change the other one into a cat.”

“Tempting,” Natalie admitted. “Very tempting. I think you may have hit on our finale. But I'm still not ready to be done with her.”

She gestured towards the vase of flowers. At first, nothing seemed to happen, as her magic was actually directed at what lay behind them, but then she made a second, briefer gesture, like wafting away a bit of smoke, and the vase vanished, revealing a tiny, naked woman huddling behind it. She was on her stomach, her hands and feet planted beneath her, ready for a quick escape, and the posture raised her perfect, round ass into the air as though being presented for inspection. Her large breasts wobbled a little as she squeezed her body down as though trying to make them disappear.

Kei’s heart was racing, but her thoughts hadn’t yet cleared to catch up to her body’s restoration. She was still trying to balance the immobilizing fear and overwhelming urges to hide and run, hoping against hope that they couldn’t see her. Her burgeoning breasts were an annoyance, and she squeaked nervously as they expanded to their normal size. She wondered why her front feet felt so strange, and noticed her claws weren’t catching the floor properly, making her worry about her ability to escape. Her senses changed and dulled. The myriad of sounds and smells which had been flooding her brain, helping her keep tabs on the vast, frightening space around her ebbed away to human levels, leaving her feeling almost deaf and anosmic. She pulled angrily at her nose as it shrank back into a useless stub.

And then, abruptly, her mind started to clear. The abject fear which had commandeered all of her consciousness receded. She recognized the human nature of her body and limbs, as well as the undignified posture she had adopted. She stood slowly, her back initially rejecting the upright posture before readapting.

“You fuc…” She began, but Natalie cut her off, waggling a finger.

“Uh uh. If you use the ‘b’ word again, I think I’ll change your friend into one. Literally, you understand.”

“I like that idea anyway,” Richard said. “I think she might even be smarter as a dog by this point.”

“Leave her alone,” Kei shouted.

Richard laughed. “Such nobility. I really think some corruption is in order.”

“Undoubtedly. Perhaps if we started playing them against each other?” Natalie asked.

“At the very least we should indulge her new preoccupations. Maybe transport her to a bar someplace? A fraternity party?”

“Hmm. How about changing her,” he pointed at Kei. “Into a vibrator for her bimbo friend?” He smirked. “That would bring them closer together than ever.”

“Possible,” Natalie allowed. Natalie saw that Kei was slowly moving towards the table edge, perhaps still hoping to reach her weapons across the room or simply escape their notice. “Or perhaps the best revenge would be to do nothing at all.”

“Nothing?” Richard gasped. “That can’t be right.”

“Consider. What happens as she shrinks smaller and smaller?”

Correctly anticipating another attack, Kei broke into a run, hoping to throw herself off the edge of the table and hide in the confusion. She gasped as the tabletop expanded again, the edge seeming to race away from her despite her answering burst of desperate speed, until it was lost to view in the far off horizon. A nearby salt shaker mushroomed from waist high to eye level, then continued to expand until it was a veritable pillar of salt, as wide as a redwood. Other nearby objects became unrecognizable as they reached mammoth scales beyond experience – a sugar bowl larger than a stadium, a candle as tall as the Empire State Building. The apparently smooth acrylic table surface was transformed to a moonscape, cracked and pitted, as microscopic scratches and flaws enlarged to the size of ditches.

Kei stopped running. Even if she could have reached the table edge, it was now as high as a mountain to her, with no way to climb down, and the next room – and her weapons -might as well be across the continent.

Natalie’s face appeared, tilted sideways and lying on the table, to give her a chance to view the ant-sized Kei. At their relative sizes, Kei couldn’t even comprehend her features properly – they were simply too vast and distorted, like trying to view Mt. Rushmore from Lincoln’s nose. Natalie made a small puffing from her lips, but it was hurricane force to Kei, and she went skidding out of control across the table, bumping and scraping against the innumerable small pits and ridges as hard as though being dragged by a car. Grains of spilled salt stood out like rocks and hit her body just as hard.

And still she shrank. The salt rocks became boulders. Natalie’s face became an entire sky. The air seemed to be getting thicker, making it harder and harder to breathe. The small scratch in the table beneath her expanded into a rut, then a culvert, and finally into a valley, the walls shooting up around her as she actually fell within it. The air became as thick as molasses, virtually impossible to move in or out of her lungs. She thought she might even feel small grains of sand within it, and wondered if these were the larger molecules declaring themselves. She tried to force in one last gasp as the world expanded into infinity around her collapsing body.

And then, there she was again on the table – doll-sized, spread-eagled as though trying to catch her fall, and gasping for air. Her lungs filled with normal air – sweet, light, wonderful air – and the world returned to normal.

“She’s back,” Richard pointed out, with some disappointment.

“Only briefly,” Natalie smiled sweetly. “I just wanted her to see what was in store for her down the line, even without our intervention. All we have to do is wait.”

“I hate waiting.”

“I know, darling. But there’s nothing that says we can’t play with them while we do. What do you say to …”

She froze, her face transforming and the smile fading. Her eyes flashed and her mouth set. The expression was clearly one of anger, but flavored by something else, something Kei hadn’t seen there before. Could it be fear?

“He is coming.”

“Who?”

“The sorcerer,” she all but spat. Somehow, the way she said it spoke volumes, and Kei knew instinctively she meant Gregor.

“What? Here?” Richard asked. “We’re shielded. How could he know?”

Natalie slowly turned towards the glass of the microwave, which acted much like a mirror and reflected a distorted view of the kitchen. She seemed to stare straight into – or through - her own eyes reflected in that glass.

“You!” she said with murderous, dripping tones. “Pulagh!” [traitor]

The microwave remained unmoved and silent at the accusation, and Natalie, seeming to look through the door, finally nodded to Richard before turning back to Kei. They were still supposed to keep a low profile until the last stages of the plan, and couldn’t risk an alarm and the resulting pursuit.

“Your fate is sealed. You know that, and I have no intention of pretending otherwise,” she informed her with quiet but murderous certainty. “But your friend – I have no personal stake with her. And she is far less … interesting to play with. However, if you say one word – one – about us or what we did.” She paused and turned towards the bedroom. “She is dead. And not quickly. The little games we just played would be nothing to what I’d do to her. Understand?”

Kei nodded. Natalie gestured in disgust, and Kei was suddenly back to the size she’d been when they’d arrived – child-sized and not even close to normal, though it left her feeling like a giantess on the table top compared to everything she’d been through the last hour.

Her nakedness seemed much more obtrusive at this size, but she didn’t pause or even think about covering herself before she had rolled off the table and made a dash to the adjoining room. The gun felt large and awkward in her undersized hand, but the pleasure and relief she felt as managed to reach it and pick it up were almost orgasmic. She didn’t even stop to aim as she grabbed the weapon and raised it.

To find there was nothing left to aim it at. The kitchen was empty, with no sign of her tormentors. Fighting the sense of frustration that threatened to overwhelm her, she heard Yuri’s door open.

“Kei?”

She all but flew back across the kitchen to check on her partner.

“Are you all right?” she demanded, panting.

“Sorry,” Yuri giggled. She was still dressed just in panties. “It’s the strangest thing, but I think I might have actually fallen asleep while getting dressed. Isn’t that funny?”

“Hilarious.”

Yuri noticed the weapon in Kei’s hand, and her brow wrinkled in confusion. “Is everything OK?”

Kei paused, unsure what if anything to reveal, but before she could make a decision, she was thankfully interrupted by the doorbell’s ring. “That’ll be Gregor.”

As if in answer, the familiar voice called through the door, though the usually jovial tones were distorted by a sense of urgency.

“Yuri? Kei?”

Yuri smile exploded. “Gregor!” she called. Then, she paused and looked at Kei in confusion. “How did you know that?”

“Lucky guess.”

The voice through the door continued, now sounding more relieved. “It’s no good – I hear you. Know you’re home. Have to let me in now.”

Kei had taken a step to do just that when Yuri stopped her.

“Kei!”

“What?”

A giggle. “You’re naked.”

“Oh, yeah.” Frankly, when Kei had a weapon in hand, she tended to think of herself as dressed. She looked around for some clothes.

“A bit more alacrity, if you please,” Gregor’s muffled voice came through the door. He was still clearly worried.

“Just a second,” Yuri called back. “Kei’s naked.”

There was a momentary pause. “In that case,” Gregor said. “I must insist you open the door immediately.”

Yuri giggled again, then handed Kei one of her outgrown shirts, while she went back into her room to finish getting dressed. Kei slipped the garment on, finding that even Yuri’s shirt came to her knees, and walked to the door. She had to reach up to turn the doorknob.

When she saw the welcome and familiar figure, a flood of relief and hope washed away the residual rage and frustration from her encounter with Natalie. Even so, she made her greeting as blunt as usual.

“About fucking time.”

Gregor’s eyes widened when he saw the child-sized Kei standing in the hallway, Yuri’s shirt threatening to swallow her, and her weapon dwarfing her hand. She grimaced at his expression, and the way he then shook his head disapprovingly.

“Kei, I am very disappointed.”

“Go ahead – say it,” she insisted, waiting for the reprimands about her height and being careless enough to get caught with chaotic magic.

Gregor cleared his throat. “You’re not naked,” he complained.

“Fuck off!” But she smiled a bit as she said it.

A wide grin split his face. “But as succinct and well armed as ever. I have missed you,” he said sincerely. “I was never meant for a diplomat. Etiquette. Protocol. Bah. Good to be back.” He swept into the apartment, walking in past her and appearing immensely relieved and uncharacteristically tired at the same time. He steadied himself and took a cleansing breath. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Kei hesitated. He seemed to know something, possibly even something about the last two hours of hell she’d been through. But she remembered Natalie’s warning, and decided to keep quiet about that. Luckily, she was able to deflect the question in an obvious direction.

“Do I look all right?” she asked acidly.

Gregor actually seemed relieved that finding her half size was the only problem.

“Ahh, yes. Res ipsa loquitor, eh? Bit of a situation, so I’ve heard.”

“A bit of a …?” Kei spluttered. “Look at me!”

Gregor winked. “Have been. Hard not to. Only human, eh? Oversized shirt. Undersized lady. Quite fetching.”

Kei looked like she was ready to aim her weapon again. “Gregor …”

He waved her anger aside. “Quite so, quite so. Long and the short of it, eh? At least the short.” He paused and looked around, almost as though his bluster had been deliberate to belay suspicion. “Sure you’re all right? Arisad,” [here he used the actual name of the mirror demon, something almost no one else used or even knew] “Was quite insistent. No delay, as it were. Very mysterious. No explanations.”

Kei felt a pang of surprise. Could the mirror demon really have intervened on their behalf? A second’s thought made her decide that more likely, it was just relaying their original message. Even so, she glanced with an unexpected warmness at the microwave.

In almost the same moment, however, the clear potential for magical eavesdropping chilled her. Kei remembered Natalie’s warning even more urgently. Could the demon monitor her even now? She wasn’t willing to risk it.

“No, I'm … we’re fine.” Her face changed as she realized what she was saying, and her mouth hardened. “Fine except for being cursed. You have got to find…”

Gregor had moved on into the kitchen and began rummaging through the cupboards.

“Yes, yes, all in good time. Surprised but not alarmed, eh? Or should I say alarmed but not surprised? ‘I’ before ‘e’ and all that. Always trouble it seems. False alarms better than none.” He paused, and for a second, an obvious weariness appeared through his normally serene mien. “But, resuscitation is in order. Tea. Hot.” He paused, as if hoping the statement of his desires would magically produce the beverage. “Hmm, black, I think. Darjeeling. Ahh, this is marvelous with biscuits. Tea and biscuits. Classic. Always puts me in mind of formal teas out of literary classics. Jane Austen. Thackeray. Great novels. You don’t happen to have any about, do you?”

“Novels?” Kei asked with obvious perplexion.

“Tea, my dear lady. Tea. You can hardly expect me to concentrate on your little problem without tea.” He turned back to checking the shelves.

Kei looked ready to explode. “LITTLE problem?! Do you call this a little problem?” She gestured angrily at her shrunken body, clothed inadequately in a baggy, oversized shirt.

Gregor looked at her evenly, then laughed. “Ha! Yes, little. I see. Exactly so. Very good. An easy pun, but never one to be ignored.” He went back to searching for tea, and was rewarded at last with a stash containing both Murchies’ and Twining’s as well as a local merchant’s custom blends. “Ahh, ‘Dragon Webs.’ Excellent. No finer green tea available. At least legally. Always knew Yuri had good taste. Now, where’s the kettle?”

Kei was watching him coldly as he calmly discussed the merits of green tea, seeming to ignore her situation completely. “Don’t make me hurt you,” she warned.

He looked up, smiling his usual disarming smile. “Not necessary. And certainly not desirable. For me, at least. ‘Small but fierce’ as it were. Quite so.” He tapped the kettle, and Kei was surprised to see it immediately start to whistle as the water boiled. Gregor didn’t usually invoke power so casually, and the act betrayed that he might be more upset than he let on. “Still, boiling pots never need to be watched, eh? A bit of tea to help us think. Settle the nerves and all.” He set the pot up and was getting cups before abruptly switching course. “When did it start?”

“Yesterday,” Kei answered, after a moment’s hesitation. “Or at least we noticed it then. I think we both found excuses until today.”

He nodded. “And the source.”

Kei grimaced. “We don’t know.”

“Unfortunate. Chaotic magic is so much easier to deal with if the source is localized. Localize, specify, neutralize. LSN principle. Very important. But not insurmountable. Hello.”

The last was occasioned as Yuri walked slowly into the room, feeling acutely conspicuous and embarrassed. She was still improbably proportioned, but Kei’s better fitting bra and shirt lent a less provocative appearance to her new figure. Her pants were still too tight in the hips, but at least her new endowments were no longer threatening to explode through her shirt.

Much more embarrassing to her were the mental changes, especially given their usual rarefied intellectual discussions. She was intensely afraid of how Gregor would react to the new her. There was no one before whom she felt her loss of intelligence more deeply. She hardly dared look at him, and let her new, long blond hair hang over her face.

“Hi,” she mumbled.

“Yuri, at last. Always a pleasure,” Gregor answered airily. “Business with pleasure, as it were.” He looked her up and down, seeming to dwell an extra few seconds on her immense and undisguisable breasts. “My word, Yuri. Remarkable. Amazing, really. And frankly, I’m surprised given that it’s you. Do you mind if I make a personal comment? I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, and you’re probably understandably sensitive about it, but now that I’ve seen them … well, it’s just so obvious, so flagrant, so in-your-face, it has to be said. Otherwise, we’ll never clear the air.”

Yuri, sure he was going to say something about her prodigious breasts, or a reprimand about being caught in a curse unawares, or worst of all, that somehow he’d divined her recent uninhibited behavior, simply nodded.

“Good. Between friends and all that.” He sighed heavily and held up two bags of loose tea. “Earl Grey stored next to the Lapsang Souchong? Yuri! Really. I despair of you if this continues.” He sniffed the steeping teapot, decided it was ready, and poured out three cups. “Now then. Let’s discuss this other matter, shall we?”

As always, Gregor seemed to make even the most dire curses and magic seem no more than annoyances. He sounded them out about when they had first noticed the changes, how they manifested and progressed, who else had been around, and so on, and yet always with the same apparently random and distracting style that kept them from dwelling too long or depressively on it. He also sufficiently diverted them that Kei seemed to have recovered a full three inches of height, and Yuri a less striking shade of blond by the end of an hour.

“And Callista?” he asked earnestly.

“As far as we can tell, she’s unaffected,” Kei answered. “She’s being checked by the healers now. We were going to meet her at Rick’s afterwards.”

“Just so, just so,” he murmured at last, closing his eyes. They watched him in silence for several minutes, hoping his quietness meant intense concentration. At last, the eyes snapped back open. “Do you know what I think?” he asked.

“What?” they chorused breathlessly.

“I think it’s time we had something to eat.”

It was she could do not to hurl her teacup at him. “Eat?” Kei echoed in disbelief. “How the fuck can you even think of eating at a time like this?”

“I think of eating at a great many times,” he replied, looking hurt. “Absolute requirement. Bread alone and all that.”

“Gregor,” Yuri said cautiously. “I think we were hoping you’d have something more con…cons…” She shook her head in frustration as words eluded her. “You know, something more to say about our problem.”

“Ah,” he agreed. “Understandable. But regrettable. Not enough to go on as yet. Consider it while we eat. Rumination in every sense of the word, as it were.” He chuckled but abruptly stopped and slapped his head. “No, wait. Previous commitments. Or at least one. Bob – left him a bit short. I must go back. Zhukov may already be dissecting him as we speak. Confusticate and bebother it. I really need to have another me around.” He paused. “No, no. Tried that once. Didn’t work. Found myself very annoying, if you can imagine that.”

“Oh, I can believe it,” Kei assured him.

“I'm not sure I want to be seen like this,” Yuri said quietly, anticipating the trip to Rick’s.

“What? Nonsense! You look wonderful. Pretend you’re on assignment. For, in a sense, you are. First and foremost, I want you to find Callista and make sure she’s all right.”

“We could have her meet us here.”

“No, no. I don’t understand the curse yet, but I feel quite strongly that the best way to fight it is to maintain your routine as much as possible. And you’ll be safer on Institute grounds.” Kei, thinking about her recent torture, nodded earnestly. “Go to Rick’s. Try not to think about this. Make sure Callista’s all right.”

Kei noticed his repetition about Callista and started to say something but paused when Gregor began searching through her abandoned equipment. He held up the belt.

“Ah, perfect. May I borrow your teleporter?”

“My…?” Kei asked. “Why do you need it?”

“To teleport, of course. Really, Kei, sometimes I wonder about you.”

She ignored the good-natured jibe. “Why do you need mine? How did you get here?”

“Teleported myself.”

“Without a guide? Are you crazy?”

He smiled. “Quite possibly. In any event, not something I wish to repeat. Very disconcerting. And don’t wish to press my luck as it were. I think the more conventional method is indicated, if you’ll allow me.”

“Sure, you can have it.”

“Excellent. Now, I charge you both to go back, find Callista and keep her safe.”

“Keep her…?” Kei wondered about Gregor’s frequent insistence about Callista’s safety. “But she’s the only one of us who wasn’t cursed.”

“Precisely.”

And on that mysterious note, Gregor disappeared.

Richard and Natalie appeared inside their room. Natalie was fuming and immediately began pacing, as frustrated as though she’d just been denied an orgasm after hours of foreplay.

“I am tired of these delays,” she snapped. “We were better off acting independently.”

“Ah, but when Belisarius …”

She waved him silent, ignoring the argument.

“Belisarius only wants to help himself. Scarabus too. They’re all in it for themselves.”

“As are we,” Richard said quietly. “None of us expects otherwise.”

She calmed slightly. The rapacity and selfishness of demons were notorious.

“True.” She took a deep, cleansing breath. “But I want her, Ric’hrdh.” She used her counterpart’s real name in a show of intimacy. “I want her.”

“I know, my dear,” he assured her. “And you shall have her. But in due time, when we can enjoy her openly and without fear of reprisal.”

“But she tasted so good!” Natalie licked her lips, clearly unsatisfied.

“She is delectable.”

“I want more.” She slammed her hand against the wall. “I … want … MORE!”

A small noise from the nearby table drew their attention. Natalie heard a small cry and scampering noise as 4-inch tall Xena barely avoided an attack from the gecko which tormented her. Richard and Natalie exchanged glances.

“We have other toys,” Richard suggested.

Xena suddenly found herself snatched from her hiding place and lifted into the air. After a brief, disorienting tumble, she dropped onto a giant outstretched palm. She looked up past the dizzyingly colossal body of her captor and found Natalie smiling down at her.

And Xena, as exhausted and frightened as she was, would have gladly faced twenty hungry lizards rather than that smile.

A few minutes later, the hardened, courageous agent was screaming helplessly and pitifully as Natalie worked her will upon her, using both physical and mental torments as they came to mind. Richard smiled beatifically as the tiny agent fainted and was forcefully revived torment after torment. Natalie was in rare form, and he could only observe in amazement, especially when the screams finally subsided into uncontrolled, devastated sobbing, the once-disciplined agent finally reduced to utter helplessness and despair, crying as sadly and deeply as a two-year old child who has lost her parents.

He shook his head in admiration. It was so wonderful to watch a real artist at work.

Yuri and Kei waited outside Rick’s, with Kei shooting venomous glances at the curious stares they drew.

“Yuri, if one more person tells me I'm looking a little down, I am going to find a stepstool and strangle them. Fuck, even Scarlet’s making jokes, and that little witch has spent half the year under three feet tall.”

Kei was referring to one of the Institute’s acolytes who had become infamous for her size-magic mishaps.

“Oh, Kei, they’re just having a little fun.”

Kei stopped, looking up towards Yuri’s face and trying not to stare at the huge breasts jiggling right in front of her eyes.

“A ‘little’ fun? Is that supposed to be a joke?”

Yuri blinked uncomprehendingly. “A joke?” Her expression cleared. “Ohhhh. Little.” A sudden giggle. “That’s funny.”

“Yeah, right.” Kei hiked her sagging, dragging uniform up again to keep her pants from slipping off, the motion having become almost automatic. Every time she thought she had gained some height back, she would notice an attractive woman, or suddenly have Yuri’s enhanced cleavage literally thrust into her face (she was breast height to her friend, and Yuri wasn’t used to having such a prodigious profile, leading to several awkward collisions), and she was beginning to think she’d never see the far side of five feet again. As soon as she could get away, Kei was considering some study time alone in the library, less for the prospect of researching a cure than for the hope that some heavy reading and solitude could regain her lost inches.

Yuri, on the other hand, who usually spent most of her free time studying, found that for once reading was the furthest thing from her. Indeed, at the moment, the only use she considered for the library was as a potential spot where she might “accidentally” run into Agent Darcy. Though her specific infatuation with that fellow agent was becoming less important than the general desire for sex. Her fantasies had progressed from idyllic romance to hot, bed-breaking sex, and her imagined partner had transformed from Darcy in formal wear to anyone who could make the horizontal. The identity of that other person was becoming immaterial. Even more surprising, so was their gender. Perhaps it was just seeing her partner struggle with a losing battle to keep her clothes on, but Yuri realized there were just as many things to do with another woman as with a man. Indeed, her mind was increasingly filled with all manner of thoughts and fantasies which not only would have shocked her friend, but the sharing of which would probably have quickly reduced Kei to Barbie size.

But since those fantasies were as yet unshared, they managed to avoid this complication. The suspended agents waited to meet Callista, currently being checked by the Dispellers on the assumption she was similarly cursed despite her lack of symptoms. They had just decided to wait inside and get something to drink when a shrill laugh overtook them.

“Well, well, well. So someone finally cut you down to size.”

Kei stiffened, but didn’t need to turn to know who had spoken.

“Jessie.”

“And James,” her brother put in. He was looking from Yuri to Kei eagerly. “Oh my word, Jessie. The spells seem to be working wond…”

Jessie cut him off with a look, but Kei was already switching from simple disgust to suspicious anger. She whirled around.

“What do you mean ‘the spells are working’?” she demanded, taking a step towards him.

Despite Kei’s small size, James quailed immediately and jumped back, but Jessie interposed herself.

“We heard you’d been cursed, and couldn’t wait to see the results for ourselves. Can’t say we’re disappointed.” She adopted a fawning, glib tone, as though making conversation at a party while she gestured at Kei’s small stature. “Don’t you look just darling? I think you’ve lost weight.”

James snickered from his shelter behind her. “Lost weight. Tee-hee.”

“And the baggy look is so you. Tell me, have you considered having those basketballs you call breasts selectively shrunk so you can shop in the kiddies’ department and find some clothes that actually fit?”

Yuri stepped forward, unconsciously adopting Kei’s usual role as the protector. “Leave her alone!”

Jessie just smiled, glancing at Yuri’s prodigious breasts and overstretched shirt. “And speaking of boobs...and breasts too.” An answering snort from James. “Yuri, I just love what you’ve done with your …” Another cutting glance at her eye-popping chest. “Hair.”

Yuri couldn’t resist smiling back hopefully as she reached to fluff her hair, completely missing or deliberately ignoring the sarcastic intent. She had become quite enamored of her new hair color and length as well. “Really?”

“Oh absolutely. James, wouldn’t you say she made a good blond?”

James snickered again. “A very good blond. And getting blonder all the time.”

Yuri let out a pleased sigh and twirled her hair between her fingers lovingly. She didn’t know why she’d never bothered styling and coloring it before. Right now, she could imagine literally spending hours fussing over it. Kei, however, recognized the insult for what it was. And a comment about lack of smarts from James simply couldn’t be tolerated.

“Look who’s talking, you purple-haired idiot,” Kei shot back.

“Blue-haired!” James corrected indignantly.

“Whatever,” she growled, before deciding they weren’t worth the trouble and waving her hand dismissively. “What the fuck are you two even doing here? You don’t belong here any more.”

Jessie smiled, the proof of the amnesia spell confirmed. She had been worried enough about recognition even before James’s faux pas.

“On the contrary. You may have gotten us kicked out of the CSA, but that just means James gets to start his training as a sorcerer earlier than expected.”

“A sorcerer? He’s going to study magic?” Kei gasped.

“Indeed he is.” Jessie knew James’ success would gall them particularly. “You didn’t know he had high level magic talent, did you?”

“Level 8,” Yuri unexpectedly blurted, then looked as surprised as anyone that she’d said it.

[TheoW]

“How did you know that?” Kei asked.

Yuri shook her head. “I … I don’t know. It just …”

“Well, that’s right,” Jessie cut her off quickly, looking more alarmed than surprised. Perhaps the amnesia wasn’t as deep as they’d assumed. “And it doesn’t matter how you know. Just so long as you know that we’re in and you’re not.”

“So … James is learning magic?” Kei asked slowly, as though testing a theory.

“That’s right, short stuff.”

Kei ignored the jibe, took the last couple of steps forward, and gathered a handful of Jessie’s shirt tightly into her fist, dragging her even closer and intending to intimidate her. She knew violence probably wasn’t the best approach in the situation, but she felt such overwhelming residual anger and frustration from her helplessness against Natalie that she seemed eager to take it out on someone else.

“Now it’s starting to make sense,” she announced, glaring into Jessie’s eyes. She was taken aback now that she was close up to find that Jessie was over a foot taller than she was, making her aggressive action seem less menacing than ludicrous. Nonetheless, she persevered.

“What the hell did you do to us?”

Jessie calmly reached down and grabbed her hand. Kei was dismayed to find that Jessie was much stronger because of their relative sizes, and she finally had to let go with a grunt of pain.

“Losing your grip, pipsqueak?” Jessie teased, now holding Kei’s hands trapped in her own.

“Not as much as you’re going to lose.”

“Ooh, big words from such a little girl.”

Kei lashed out, intending to trip Jessie up, but once again, her new size betrayed her. She misjudged her reach and strength, and a split second later, it was Jessie who had the upper hand. Literally. She twisted Kei’s arm around her back.

“Not so tough when you’re not the biggest, baddest bitch on the block, are you?” she sneered.

“Jessie, let her go!” Yuri protested, moving to her friend’s aid.

Kei glared daggers at her partner. “Let me handle this!” she shouted.

“Oh, by all means, let the little … HEY!” Jessie had started to sneer before Kei had twisted back out of her grip. The next second, she was on her back staring up in shock as the smaller woman bestrode her.

“As a bitch, you always had me beat,” Kei admitted. “It was just everything else I won at.”

Her ascendancy was brief however. Her smaller size and mass simply weren’t enough to pin the much larger, stronger Jessie. Another second, and Jessie had successfully rolled her over, sending both spinning across the path. They righted themselves simultaneously, without even once letting go of each other, and continued locked in full combat.

It was a spectacular fight, especially when you considered the size discrepancy. Kei had never relied solely on size or strength for her combat skills: she had the fastest reflexes and best hand-to-hand instincts in the entire agency. They served her just as well here – in fact, if anything she might be just a touch quicker at her smaller size, and it almost compensated for her reduced strength and reach.

Almost.

As in their previous protracted struggle, the moves, punches and kicks flew almost too fast to follow. Kei was the best, but Jessie wasn’t far behind, and her superior strength and reach gave her advantages that only seemed to increase with time. In this battle, the extra hit, the slightly more solid blow always seemed to come from Jessie, and Kei’s timing and moves were a little off because of her decreased range. Indeed, despite her best efforts, she found herself more and more on the defensive as the battle continued.

Jessie sensed it too and was exultant.

“You don’t know how much I've looked forward to this!” she crowed, her eyes alight but still intense and concentrated. Another hard blow hit home, and Kei grunted in pain. “Always the best, and never let anyone forget it. So…” Another hit. “What are you now?”

“She’s my friend,” Yuri warned Jessie, having seen enough and moving forward.

Kei managed to whirl and face her, just missing a cross to her jaw that might have laid her out.

“I’ll handle this!” she hissed furiously, her pride wounded far more than her body.

Yuri blinked at the ferocity of the rebuke, and watched in disbelief as they closed yet again into intense combat.

James came up nervously next to Yuri. “I think they need to get this out of their systems,” he suggested.

Yuri turned, and James immediately cringed, putting his hands over his face defensively. Yuri sighed in exasperation.

“It’s just so stupid,” she complained. “Really, really stupid.”

“Yes,” he agreed, sensing an uneasy truce between them. “But she’s my sister.”

By now, quite a few additional spectators on their way in or out of Rick’s had stopped to gawk, including a few off-duty CSA agents. They showed no inclination to intervene, however. Not only was there an unwritten law to let agents work out their own problems when they were off duty, but hey – it was a catfight between two hot babes: no one in their right mind wants to stop that. Indeed, several called out encouragement.

“Come on, Jessie!” “Go, Kei.” “Beat that bitch!” “Oh yeah, nice one!”

Jessie’s confidence and advantage continued to grow with each minute. Finally, there was a particularly unpleasant slamming sound and an anguished cry. Kei was flat on her back on the ground, panting, hurting and helpless, with Jessie triumphant on top of her, her arm pressed immovably across her throat. Once more, her eyes positively danced in triumph, and she raised a fist as though to deliver a finishing blow.

“Bye-bye, bitch.”

“That’s enough!” Yuri warned, once more stepping forward menacingly. There were murmurs of assent from the spectators. It had been a good fight, but enough was enough.

Jessie looked up, sneered, and seemed ready to take Yuri on as well, but then, surprisingly, the fire faded from her eyes. She stood up, dusting herself off, not even deigning to look down on her fallen opponent, while Kei gasped for breath, still helpless.

“You’re right. It is.”

The crowd broke up, satisfied. Several of the male agents were smiling, not in sympathy for Jessie, but just glad to see Kei finally beaten and humiliated (they had always had trouble accepting a woman as the CSA’s hand-to-hand combat champion). A few people even cheered, much to Jessie’s pleasure. She made no attempt to renew the battle, but also offered no apologies or a hand to help her opponent up. She motioned to her brother. “Come on, James.”

James jumped and hurried to her side, but before they could leave, Yuri closed on them.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she warned them. Oddly enough, her hair seemed to have darkened again slightly over the last few minutes.

James quailed at the order and implied threat, but Jessie all but laughed. Yuri had never been the physical threat Kei was. “What are you going to do?”

“What I have to.”

They locked eyes for several seconds, as Kei slowly and painfully climbed to her feet. She took an unsteady step towards them, but this time, it was Yuri who warned her off.

“Kei, let me handle this.” She turned back to Jessie while one of the remaining agents more friendly to their cause ran to give Kei support (and keep her from injuring herself worse by getting back into a fight). “You’re not leaving until you tell us what spells you used and how to reverse them.”

Jessie threw her head back and laughed in open derision. “You think we spelled you? Ha! Guess what they said about your bimbo brain was right. Where do you think we’d get spells like that?”

Yuri glanced at James, who went pale and opened his mouth as if to argue, but Jessie immediately intervened before he could unwittingly incriminate them again.

“James? You think James could work magic like that? Don’t be ridiculous! James is an idiot!”

“That’s right, I am,” James added in relieved confirmation, before his face registered what he was saying. “Hey!”

“You know what I mean, “ Jessie waved his complaint off. She fixed Yuri with a look. “Besides, the word is already out that it’s chaotic magic. Chaotic, Blondie. You know - demon stuff.” A vengeful smile. “Gee, I can’t imagine who could have done that. Do we even know any demons?” she asked James rhetorically.

“Well…” James began, beginning to count on his fingers.

“Never mind!” she snapped, glaring at him before returning her attention to Yuri. “The fact is, darling, that you’d better look a little closer to home, if you catch my drift. Unless you were incredibly sloppy in the field, I can only think of one demon who could have spelled you without your knowing.”

There were actually a couple of murmured agreements from the remaining spectators. Jessie all but crowed.

“You figured out who yet, Barbie doll? Or do you need her initials too?”

“Oh, oh!” James waved. “I know!”

“Shut up,” Jessie ordered. Her gaze came back once more to Yuri and Kei, looking equally pitying and triumphant. “Well, this has been fun. I suggest the munchkin there remembers her size before picking a fight next time, or accusing innocent bystanders. Come on, James.”

James fell obediently into line behind her. “But, Jess, we’re not inn…”

“Shut up!” she ordered one last time. “You’ll ruin our exit.” She hurried him off and away.

Kei had waved the person supporting her off, and instead sat back down on the ground in obvious pain. The last of the spectators mumbled a few token words of support or regret, then disappeared into Rick’s so they could eagerly compare ringside notes and embellish the fight before plugging it into the hot gossip circuit. By tomorrow, every agent would know about it.

Yuri walked over to offer Kei a hand, but her partner shook it away angrily. Her lips and right eye were discolored and still swelling.

“You OK?” Yuri asked.

Yuri swung on her, staring furiously up into her face. “No, I am fucking not OK! Get it? I'm a joke. A fucking useless failure.”

“Kei,” Yuri remonstrated. “You can’t say that! Just because Jessie could … well, just because you couldn’t… I mean, Jessie is pretty tough, and …”

“You think that’s why I'm upset?” Kei laughed bitterly. “Shit! As if I cared! It’s not about that fight, or that fucking shit hole Jessie. Can’t you see the big picture? Oh wait, you probably can’t see anything big because I'm so fucking short!” She spat out some blood. “I can’t beat Jessie today, and I can’t beat Connors tomorrow. Shit, eventually I'm running scared from twits like James! What the fuck good will I be in the field? Hell, two-year-olds will terrorize me! Don’t you see? I'm fucking useless like this.”

“You are not useless,” Yuri consoled her.

Kei looked up at her, deliberately craning her neck to emphasize their height differential. “Yeah? Look at me. I said look at me, damn it!” She held her arms out to emphasize the overlong sleeves which covered her hands. “Fucking pathetic.”

“Yes, you are,” Yuri agreed.

Kei’s eyes widened in unexpected hurt. “What?”

“You’re right, you’re pathetic,” Yuri repeated.

Kei was stunned. She stared at Yuri in disbelief, her mouth working soundlessly.

“Your self-pity is just pathetic,” Yuri continued, clarifying her thought. “First of all, what are you, a man? Size doesn’t matter. Does this mean you’ve … you’ve …” Her brow wrinkled as she tried to remember the word she wanted. It was tantalizingly close, but she couldn’t pull it down. “Um, contemnified?” she guessed, then shook her head angrily. “So anyway, like, that means you’ve thought I was useless all these missions because I couldn’t kick butt like you could? That is so good to know. Thanks so much.”

Kei’s shock changed direction. “I never…”

“Yeah, so like maybe you kept me around for my brains or something. So that means now that I'm … I’m de… de… Shit! I hate this! Now that I’m getting stupid, you’ll dump me, right?”

“Yuri, I …”

“Yeah, whatever,” Yuri waved her off. “This is so …” She started to say pathetic again, but realized she would just be repeating herself. Instead, she flailed for another word. “This is, like, lemonadeable.” She froze, again realizing her mind was playing with her memories. “Shit! Listen to me! I sound like some … some …” She closed her eyes and tried to regain her control. “I don’t know what I sound like. That’s the point. Damn it, Kei, I would give anything to just be getting smaller. You think being short would bother me compared to having my mind fucked up? You’re still you. Who the hell am I?”

Kei finally glimpsed the horror Yuri must be facing: to feel her intelligence, her basic sense of identity being stripped away. And she felt suddenly, completely ashamed over her own obsession. Even the pain from Jessie’s beating receded.

“Oh, Yuri, I'm sorry,” Kei apologized, standing up and coming over, intending to physically comfort her, only to find that she couldn’t reach to put her arms around her friend’s shoulders. She thought she must have shrunk again during the fight, but didn’t even care about that any more. She hugged her briefly instead, her head settling in just below Yuri’s breasts.

Yuri returned the hug. “I'm scared, Kei.”

“It’s OK,” Kei returned, unable to avoid noticing that Yuri’s breasts were larger than her head as it lay beneath them.

“No, it’s not,” Yuri shot back. “In fact, I'm not scared enough. It’s like the magic makes me not care. And …” She hung her head. “And part of me even likes it.”

“It’s OK,” Kei repeated, and somehow believing it. “We’ll beat this,” she promised, feeling that fear as an almost palpable thing through the embrace and wishing with all her heart she could take it away. “Hey, we’re unbeatable as a team, aren’t we?”

Yuri looked unconvinced. “But I feel so … so stupid.”

“You could never be stupid,” Kei assured her, and surprisingly, in view of Yuri’s particular curse, meaning it. “Stupid doesn’t mean not being able to solve equations or remember words. Hell, with the equations you used to play with, it would mean everyone was stupid. It means not trying or not caring. You could never do either of those.”

Kei thought she could feel that lump of fear soften. Yuri smiled just a little, looking down on her diminutive partner. “Guess that’s the same reason you’ll never be small.”

Kei matched the smile, then grew self conscious. She broke the embrace, shook her head and smoothed her hair, trying to make herself more presentable.

“Fuck! Enough of this mutual admiration society. We’re going to find the asswipe that did this and mess him up.” A more quirky smile. “We’re still a great team. You can hit him high, and I can hit him low.”

“Assuming it is a him,” Yuri cautioned.

“I’m shrinking out of my clothes, and you’re turning into a blond bimbo,” Kei shot back. “That sounds pretty damn much like a man’s idea of magic to me.”

“But Jessie was right - they’re chaotic spells,” Yuri persisted, almost wishing she wasn’t smart enough to still make the inferences. “They’re probably demonic in origin.”

Kei bristled. “She wouldn’t do it,” she said quietly.

“No, no, of course not,” Yuri agreed, though without quite as much confidence. “But the fact remains – it means there’s a demon close by. Close enough to spell us or strong enough to punch through the Institute defenses. How do we deal with that?”

And there, alas, Kei was equally as lost as her increasingly confused partner.

Gregor leaned back in his chair, serenely sipping a steaming cup of strong, black tea, suffused in the aromatic vapors. Bob, Karen and Lisa sat with him, their own drinks barely touched. Zhukov and the healer had retired to give them privacy, knowing if anyone could discover the cause of Bob’s errant magic, it was the eccentric sorcerer.

“Now then, let’s see if we can work this out,” Gregor said, finally setting the cup down. “How did this all start? Not another medallion, surely? No? Thank goodness. Could hardly stand for another of those, eh?”

“Gregor, this is serious,” Lisa said angrily.

“Quite so, quite so,” Gregor agreed, standing up to stretch and then coming around to look at Bob more closely. He searched one of his voluminous pockets and produced something that looked like a large magnifying glass. He held it up lovingly. “Real Winderemerean,” he announced. “Can’t abide those new automatic ones.” Strange colors began to play across the lens surface as he moved it closer to Bob. “Hmm. Fascinating. That shouldn’t…no, no, certainly not. No doubt a flaw in the ointment. Quite …” He froze, as a veritable kaleidoscope transformed the glass, and suddenly, he looked much more serious. “When did this start?” he demanded.

“It’s been at least a week,” Lisa answered for him. “We noticed it last …”

But Gregor was ignoring her. His mouth had set into a grim line as he continued the scry procedure. Finally, he set the glass down while muttering.

“My fault. Never thought to check. No symptoms. Sloppy.”

“What is it?” Lisa asked urgently.

“It’s just something wrong about the medallion magic, right?” Karen asked. Bob had originally gained his powers from a size-changing medallion.

He looked at all of them before answering. “Difficult to say. The medallion magic is definitely wrong as you say. Mutated.”

“Mutated?” Lisa gasped. “How…?”

Gregor shook his head. “Not sure. Residue of the virus certainly. Should have made a deeper examination before, but, of course, Bob seemed immune to the virus. Null resistance. Didn’t think to look for altered forms.”

Gregor was referring to the insidious regression virus that had threatened all of them mere weeks before. As a “null,” an inherently non-magical person, Bob had been the only one naturally resistant.

“But you discovered how to cure that, right?” Karen asked hopefully. “So you can…?”

Gregor shook his head. “More than meets the eye. Much more. Shouldn’t be possible. Unless….” He paused uneasily, then his eyes suddenly widened with an idea. “I think Bob and I should speak alone. Man to man. Cloistered halls and all that.”

Now, Karen and Lisa held their breath uneasily. They looked at Bob in silent appeal, not wanting to miss anything out of what they were sure was a misguided attempt to spare them potentially devastating news. Bob shook his head.

“I think they should hear whatever you have to say,” he replied.

Gregor was drumming his fingers nervously. “Not so much to say, as to ask, as it were. Awkward. Very.”

“Go ahead.” Bob couldn’t understand what Gregor was leading to.

“Ahem. Yes, well. Not to put too fine a point upon it, but, ahem, yes, ahh.” A long breath. “Well, who is she?”

There were simultaneous draws of surprised breath. Bob, however, was genuinely puzzled. “Who’s who? What she?” he asked a bit clumsily.

“Most obvious explanation,” Gregor sighed. “Spell transformation. Chaotic matrix. Completely suffused. Would require a lot of power and … intimacy. Emotional intimacy at least. More likely physical. Cogito ergo cum. Sex-cetera, sex-cetera. Assuming female.” Another awkward pause. “Could be wrong. Male it in, to twist a phrase. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

Now, Karen and Lisa turned to look at him with entirely different expressions. Bob seemed to shrink under their gazes in more ways than one.

“I … I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said quite truthfully, though his obvious nervousness did little to reassure anyone.

“Ahh. Very good. Must be mistaken then. Apologies all round. Great relief.” A pause and meaningful look, as though unwilling to abandon the line. “Still, would have explained a lot.”

“Explained what?” Lisa asked cautiously, her eyes still half on Bob. “We’re dealing with problems from the virus, right?”

Gregor shook his head. “Only partly. Definitely chaotic. Completely transformed. Exceedingly dangerous.”

“Transformed? Chaotic?” Lisa breathed heavily.

Karen, far less schooled in the mystic arts, fought off her growing panic overt he unfamiliar terms and Lisa’s obvious alarm. She didn’t want to interrupt his concentration, so simply sat in silence, feeling more and more worried. Gregor seemed to be considering other possibilities and was still muttering quietly.

“You mean a demon did this?” Lisa asked, almost trembling.

“Possible. Not likely on first consideration, but never close a door without opening the windows. May not have been malicious. Unintended consequences and all that. But certainly ifrit in origin if not outright demonic. Very strange.” He looked up again. “Any recent contacts here at the Institute? Anyone?”

Bob shook his head. “Haven’t even been back since that first time.”

“Hmm. Might have happened then. Still.” Another idea. “Ahh, yes. Any presents or unusual gifts? Offers? Three wishes, rings of power. That sort of thing. Might have been very tempting. Beware of demons bearing gifts, eh?”

Bob shook his head. “I’ve never gotten anything from any one like that. I don’t even know any demons.”

“Ifrit,” Lisa corrected him. “And he’s right. We’ve never met any. Except for Callista, of course.”

Bob nodded. As someone entirely new to magic and the supernatural, he tended to forget Callista’s inhuman origins.

Gregor snorted. “Think we can discount her as a source. Haven’t been borrowing her personal things, eh?” A laugh. “She didn’t give you any mysterious objects, I hope. Monkey’s paw, jade figurine. ‘Keep it secret, keep it safe,’ eh?”

Bob laughed. “Nothing. She never gave me anything. Just a Christmas present.”

“A kiss,” Karen pointed out somewhat archly. She had remembered Bob’s expression when he opened it.

Gregor’s eyes shot open. “What, what?” he burst. He looked at Bob curiously and with just a hint of accusation.

“A chocolate kiss,” Bob hurried to point out.

“It was a big chocolate kiss,” Karen added, still with a bit of edge.

Gregor chuckled. “Even so. Cursed confectionery. Most unlikely. Twinkies excepted, of course. Nevertheless, not the kind of intimacy I meant. Now, if it had been a real kiss…” He waved a hand in relieved dismissal.

Bob looked decidedly uncomfortable, and Karen picked up on it immediately.

“Bob?” she prompted.

All eyes swung back, and Bob squirmed a little under their expectant gazes. Gregor fixed him with a look that allowed no evasion.

“Bob, you haven’t been … kissing Callista, have you?”

Another awful, awkward second’s pause. Bob swallowed hard.

“Just the once,” he admitted.

There was a universal gasp. “What?!” they all demanded.

“It … woke her up,” he explained desperately. “It was when she … her spirit had gotten lost in Daemon. Her body was going cold. We thought she was dying. We didn’t know what to do. And then…” Another pause. He had been afraid to admit this part to anyone. “I heard a voice telling me to kiss her.”

This referred to Bob’s successful attempt to give Callista’s astral form a chance to reclaim her body after she had risked it for them. Her sojourn in Daemon had proved a success as far as gaining the information they had needed to overcome the devastating regression virus which threatened the entire Institute, but had come with significant cost, the most obvious being the connection to Belisarius. Even after her apparent escape from him, however, the voracious spirits which occupied the other dimensions had been unwilling to let Callista return, and she had seemed lost until Bob had intervened. His kiss had provided her a physical anchor for her return, and as a null himself, he had seemed the perfect lightning rod to resist the last, desperate surge of chaotic souls which had tried to escape with her.

But apparently, he wasn’t as resistant as they had thought.

Although they had filled the others in about Callista’s harrowing journey and the adventures around it, for some reason, neither he nor she had seemed eager to share the details of the intimacy which had brought her back.

And, as Bob faced a trio of accusing and shocked expressions around the table now, he knew exactly why.

“You kissed her?” Gregor asked, looking hurt but somehow also maintaining a thoughtful objectivity.

“You … kissed her?” Karen asked, in an entirely different manner that revealed no objectivity whatsoever.

And Lisa simply stared at him quietly, trying not to show her own pain.

“Look,” Bob said. “It was an emergency. She might have been lost…dying… We didn’t know what else to do. And it did save her. I mean, come on! Under the circumstances, it seemed the right thing to do.”

“Of course. Understandable. No choice. Naturally.” The murmured approbations from around the table sounded sincere enough when they finally, reluctantly spilled forth.

So why did Bob still feel such pangs when he looked in their eyes?

Gregor seemed the first to recover more genuinely, understanding as he did that Bob really had saved Callista, and through her, all of them. He had wondered how she had managed to reorient herself and escape after her near disastrous encounter with Belisarius. He put the mysterious detail of the voice telling Bob what to do aside, and instead, reached out to shake his hand.

“Thank you.”

Bob was surprised. “Why?”

“For saving Callista. For being you. Hidden depths. Remarkable, as I've said before. Forgive my reaction. Understandable. Taken by surprise, as Custer explained before the Alamo.”

“Wait, Custer didn’t…”

“Never mind, never mind. Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and now Callista. Magic beyond sorcery, eh? A forgotten kiss is forever remembered, and all that. ‘An Affair To Remember,’ as it were. Dreadful movie, but Callista likes it. Now then, we’re ready to move on, eh?”

“Are we?” Karen and Lisa’s expressions coldly suggested that not everyone was ready to move on.

“Well of course we are! We have our critical factor, our jumping off point, our Big Bang … er, no, forget that - poor choice of words. We have our x-factor.”

“The kiss?” Karen asked, not following at all.

“The kiss. Kisses. Osculatory miracles. In some ways, the ultimate intimacy. Implies so much with such a little gesture. A kiss is just a kiss, eh? Except when it’s not. Rarely is. In this case, I would say it also completely transformed the magic imprinted on Bob.”

“A kiss did all of … of this?” Lisa asked, gesturing to imply hers and Karen’s recent transformations and the spiraling mishaps.

Gregor nodded enthusiastically, his mind already jumping several steps ahead.

“Everything that’s been happening? From … just … one … kiss?” Lisa deliberately drew the question out, keeping her eyes on Bob as though daring him to come clean with the rest of the story. After all, if he hadn’t mentioned the kiss, what else might he be keeping secret?

Gregor made a tut-tutting noise.

“Ah, you see, it’s not the number of kisses or length of intimacy, but the intensity.”

Her expression suggested this explanation wasn’t helping Bob’s case at all.

“Yes, yes, you can work all that out later.” He seemed increasingly impatient with their continued frostiness. “The point is, Bob had to put a lot of himself into the kiss. The kiss of life, as it were. He needed to somehow represent our physical world and everything she loved in it to get Callista back. They connected – apparently on a deeper level than either of them suspected.”

“And…?” Lisa wasn’t sure where this was going.

“And it’s difficult to break that kind of connection. I suspect it hasn’t broken, or that at least part of Callista is still inside him.”

There were murmurs and even more looks of discomfort.

“Yes, very awkward,” Gregor agreed. “Still, it explains our current predicament.”

“You really think that just one kiss…” Lisa started to argue.

“What? Well of course ‘just one kiss’ could do all that,” he said in exasperation, annoyed at her obsession with it. He started ticking off points on his hand. “Bob is already under the influence of an imprinted size magic. He becomes infected with a mutagenic, mystical virus. Is that enough for you? No? He kisses a powerful demoness with enough passion to return her from the dead, and is briefly flooded with the whole essence of the demon realm. Bah!” He threw his hands up. “I'm only surprised there wasn’t a total eclipse of the sun at the same time to finish things off!”

Lisa was only beginning to get past her personal jealousy and realize the dire implications of what he was saying. Karen understood almost nothing of magic, but could read her friend’s face all too well.

“And you think part of it - or her - is still inside?”

Gregor nodded. “Exactly. And the problem is, how do we get it out?”

The mood in Rick’s seemed tenser than the last time Callista had been there. The conversations were quieter, and there was far less laughter. Many more people seemed to mark her arrival too, and the eyes of one or two solitary patrons at the bar in particular bored into her as she stopped to survey the room, then followed her as she crossed the booth to join her friends.

She tried to hide her surprise when she saw them. She had heard what happened, but actually seeing her friends’ transformed was another matter. Yuri’s hair was almost entirely blond now, and had grown out significantly. Her clothes were tighter, especially around the chest despite borrowing Kei’s things, and her eyes seemed restless and a little unfocused as she looked around the room. She was smiling happily and sipping a Royal Fizbin, one of the establishment’s “fluffier” drinks.

It was difficult to judge Kei’s height because she was sitting in a slouched position on her chair, but she looked to be about the size of a seven year old. Her clothes were loose, and her feet swung unhappily at least 6 inches off the floor. She was drinking straight Scotch with a scowl when her face changed upon seeing Callista, immediately transforming to concern and curiosity.

“Well?” she asked, waiting to hear what Callista’s curse was.

Callista shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?!”

Kei stared in disbelief, but Yuri smiled cheerfully.

“Wow,” she said. “That’s so cool. You must be, like, totally lucky. Or maybe it’s like a natural resistance or something, you know?”

Kei didn’t seem to share her relief. She was not only incredulous about Callista being spared, but couldn’t help looking at Callista’s new clothes and attitude with suspicion. The revealing clothes and nonchalance just weren’t the Callista she knew.

“Cal, are they sure? I mean, could your own magic be hiding a spell or something?”

Callista shrugged again. “They used three different scry stones, and a sympathetic magic adept. Either there’s nothing there, or we’re dealing with something too sophisticated to be caught by the Institute’s best people. Only a high level mage could manage something like that, and, I mean, why bother? They’re not even trying to disguise your spells.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Kei grumbled, noting how large and clumsy the whiskey tumbler felt in her hand. She would also have to watch her drinking – she could already feel the effects from only two shots, and realized her smaller body couldn’t handle the alcohol.

They talked a while about Gregor’s warning, including the emergencies which had kept him from joining them, and possible leads on the case, but in the end, they were left with Kei’s assessment.

“Maybe it is just a prank,” Callista suggested hopefully.

“Yeah right. A prank using chaotic magic.”

Yuri’s eyes widened. “Oooh, that’s right. It’s like there has to be someone else or something.” She smiled adoringly at her partner. “You are so totally smart, Kei.”

Kei was clearly uncomfortable, and seemed to shrink under Yuri’s gaze. Which, under the circumstances was probably literally the case. Callista had sat down next to her, and she tried not to gape at how much taller her friend had become in comparison – her eyes were below Callista’s chest! She thought she’d had her thoughts well controlled for the last hour. How much longer was it going to take to grow back this time? It seemed slower each time it happened.

An attendant appeared to take the new arrival’s order, but stopped short upon recognizing Callista, suddenly reversing course and walking back to the bar. There was a heated discussion, and then Tia, their waitress from the other night, appeared instead.

“Hi,” she said without any enthusiasm.

“Hi there.” Callista smiled widely, and rather uncharacteristically, since it highlighted her teeth and elongated canines. Indeed, this time, she seemed to enjoy the woman’s obvious discomfort when she noticed them. “Remember me?”

“Yeah, Chardonnay and spritzer.” It was an indication of the woman’s professionalism, that even when confronted by a potentially hostile demon, she could reduce anyone to their drink order. She made as though to leave.

“Not today,” Callista recalled her. “Gondorian ale. A pint. And a shot of the Carrochness on the side.”

The server took the order in stride, but Kei’s face openly registered her own surprise.

“That’s, um, different.”

Callista settled smugly into the seat. “I'm feeling different.”

“I guess so.” She looked again at Callista’s revealing clothes and bare midriff, uncomfortably close to eye level. And they’re sure there’s no spell?”

Callista’s expression hardened. “They’re sure. What? I can’t try something new without you getting on my case?”

Kei was taken aback at her abrupt change in manner. “Not that. It’s just…well, that’s kind of a potent combo.”

“Good. I hope I get drunk. I never get drunk. The last time I got drunk…” A pause and guilty smile. “Well, it might have been the other night with you.”

“And look how well that worked out,” Kei muttered.

“What?”

“Never mind. We’re still meeting for combat training, right?”

Callista was surprised. “Are you sure?” She looked at Kei’s obvious injuries from the fight with Jessie, not to mention her reduced size. “I mean, you’re so sm …so… I mean, you have to be distracted.”

Kei tried to ignore the obvious condescension. “Just the opposite. I need something like that to keep from thinking about this.”

“Gregor did think we should try to keep doing normal things,” Yuri added brightly. “Like, I'm going to go hang out at the library and stuff.” She twirled her blond hair thoughtfully. “There are some totally cute guys who study there.”

Kei looked at her with alarm. “Um, Yuri, maybe you’d better stick around with me?”

Yuri shook her head. “Uh-uh. No way. He said we should do our normal stuff. There is so much I totally need to do there. Like, um … like … reading and stuff. You go do your training or whatever.”

Kei never got a chance to argue the point further. Arriving simultaneously were Callista’s drinks – and another visitor.

He was a slim man, carefully dressed and groomed, with tight lips and a pencil-thin, almost-an-afterthought mustache. There was an odd gleam in his eyes and twist in his superficially cool smile – a superior, knowing look as though he was familiar with all your sins by category and line, and was simply waiting for you to acknowledge them. He looked at each of the in turn, the smile fixed.

“Good day. I do hope I'm not disturbing you, but if I might have a few minutes.”

It was not a question.

Callista didn’t recognize him, but if she needed any further reinforcement to her instinctive dislike, it came a second later from Kei’s reaction.

“Get the fuck out of here, Javert.”

His smile was as cold and confident as ever.

“Ah, Agent Kei, always the greatest of pleasures.” He ignored her objection and sat down pointedly across the table. “But I'm afraid I must insist. This is official business after all, and you’re hardly in the best position to challenge the authorities under these circumstances. Cursed, and with demonic magic. Most unfortunate. One wonders how you could have been caught so … off guard.” Here his eyes swung openly to Callista. “And almost at the very moment we suffered such a grievous demon attack on the Institute grounds themselves. Absolutely tragic, yet almost unbelievably … coincidental, wouldn’t you say?” His eyes fixed hers for a long, accusing second before he continued, holding out his hand. “Jacques J. Jabert, Council Special Investigator. You, of course, are Callista Albeon. Or do you use the surname? Not typical for your kind, is it? Something of a … human affectation. I am familiar with you by reputation and record, though I haven’t had the … pleasure of meeting you in person.”

The pauses in his speech were punctuated by a dry sound between a cough and a chuckle. His handshake was as cold and firm as his gaze. Callista was sure he was attempting some kind of reading or low-level truth spell with the contact as well, but shook off the slight buzz of the enchantment easily.

“A pleasure.”

He laughed. “How kind. So nice to maintain the pleasantries no matter what we truly feel, isn’t it? Agent Kei could learn something from you.”

“Fuck you, and fuck the CSI,” Kei shot back. “Fucking inquisitors.”

Javert’s smile never wavered. “There have been unfortunate abuses of power inherent in the office of Special Investigations in years past, but those are historic anomalies. We only exist to serve the Council and, indeed, all mages.”

“Yeah? Tell that to Bonval.”

For the first time, the smile faded, and some color crept into his cheeks.

“The accusations brought against Sorcerer Bonval were entirely justified.”

“Bullshit! If Gregor and Yuri hadn’t unraveled that gibberish you presented as evidence, you would have had him banished for no reason.”

The slight color in his cheeks peaked, then receded. The aloof smile returned.

“We were indeed fortunate that Agent Yuri was able to explicate that case before a great injustice could befall him. I was exceedingly … grateful for her help.” He turned his sharp eyes towards Yuri. “But that brings us back to the matter at hand. I doubt Agent Yuri is capable of such perspicacious cogency under the current circumstances, isn’t that right?”

Yuri’s brow wrinkled. “Purpose ca-what?”

His smile twitched upward slightly.

“Exactly. How distressing. And you Agent Kei. Very embarrassing. Are we to assume this is a result of willful dereliction or simple incompetence?”

Kei rose out of her seat. “That’s it, Javert. You can use the door or window to leave. I’ll help with the second.”

“Tsk, tsk, agent. Mind your temper or we’ll continue this discussion under less congenial circumstances. Zhukov can’t help you under suspension, you know. I have Council imprimatur.”

“You mean Scarabus is your boss.”

“I do happen to enjoy the particular confidence of that stalwart, yes.”

Yuri seemed to be having some difficulty following the discussion, not least because of Javert’s vocabulary, but she interrupted here.

“I don’t see why the CSI is involved anyway. I mean, it’s not like we were, you know, heresesizing.”

Yuri paused and wrinkled her brow in confusion, recognizing her word confabulation again as her vocabulary deteriorated. Javert’s smile quivered with barely suppressed enjoyment. Kei jumped in to her defense.

“She’s right. This isn’t a heresy issue.”

Since many venerable church terms and organizations were just as ancient and hierarchical, the Institute had come to adopt many of the same words for convenience. In this case, heresy referred to a renegade mage, someone using magic against the organization or practicing “black magic,” a loose term most often referring to dangerous or actively inimical spells.

“We disagree. In fact, I think the attack on Geist and the magic inflicted on yourselves are almost certainly related.”

“Bullshit!”

“Is it?” He began ticking off points on his fingers. “The chaotic magic you’ve been cursed with indicates a demon origin, yet you claim no attacks from recent encounters. Then who spelled you? We’ve been tracking activity within the grounds indicating an active Daemon portal – this could only be opened by a high level mage, or a demon herself. The attacks required knowledge and access to the Institute grounds, a very dangerous and unusual element for a rogue demon attack, almost necessitating an insider or at least an internal ally. And the attacks occurred in close proximity by both special and temporal references. And you suggest these could be coincidence? A remarkable coincidence, wouldn’t you say?” His cold eyes swung back to fix Callista. “And you weren’t affected at all, were you Ms. Albeon?”

Callista met the gaze evenly. “No.”

“Not that we know of,” Yuri corrected.

A dry laugh. “Of course. Still, it is very … remarkable.”

Kei stood up. It was a bit of a shock to have to drop the last few inches to the floor, and disconcerting to barely be above table level when standing up. Her clothes were loose, and she looked a little like an underaged girl who had disguised herself in an adult’s clothes to sneak into the bar. Nonetheless, she faced Javert without qualm.

“That’s it, Javert. I'm less than 5 feet tall, and I’ll bet I can still kick your skinny ass through your mouth. What the hell? I'm already suspended. It’d be worth it. And at least then this shit would be coming out the right end.”

A sour look. He made as though to ignore her threat, and tried to keep his gaze Callista.

“I hardly think…”

“I know. That’s why we fucking hate you. Now, either get the hell out of here or get a new face.”

Javert’s eyes finally lost their cold composure. He glared venomously at Kei.

“Are you challenging me, agent?”

“I don’t think you’d be much of a challenge, but yeah, if you want to call it that, call it whatever the fuck you want.”

Javert’s mouth twisted.

“I've been waiting for this chance.”

A new voice cut them both off. “And you’ll have to wait a while longer.”

They suddenly became aware that Rick himself had reappeared, as silently and mysteriously as though out of thin air. His lined face was grave, but clearly in control.

“Is there some trouble here?”

Javert looked up icily.

“Not at all. Agent Kei has been blathering as usual, but nothing I can’t handle. You would be wise not to interfere, Rick. This is official Council business.”

Rick held the gaze.

“If so, I suggest you conduct it at the Council building. My customers prefer to keep things friendly and casual.”

The color leapt back into Javert’s cheeks.

“How dare you interfere? The Council has supreme authority to investigate and take actions against any threat to the Institute or its mages.”

“The Council may. You don’t. Especially not here.”

“What?”

“You heard me. This is my place, and I have no intention of turning it into an interrogation room, especially not for you. If you can’t understand that, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

They stared at each other for several seconds, then Javert stood up.

“You haven’t heard the last of this.”

Rick actually smiled. “I bet I have.”

That smile almost drove Javert over the edge, but he collected himself, turning one last time to the table.

“We will continue this discussion after I've spoken with your superiors. And, Ms. Albeon, I would ask that you not leave Institute grounds without notifying my office. You may consider that a request or an order. We need to have a long talk together when we have fewer … distractions. Good day.”

Kei watched him leave then turned to Rick.

“If I were straight, I’d marry you.”

Rick rolled his hand, and a lit cigarette appeared in it from nowhere. He took a long, thoughtful puff.

“Agent Kei, a request of my own. I heard about the altercation out front. Your personal animosities and feuds are your own, but what happens here is my business. It seems you’re always at the center of trouble these days. Perhaps as a favor to me you could tone it down a little. I dislike having to intervene with my guests.” He cast one last, disapproving look after the departing CSI agent. “Though in Javert’s case, I'm willing to make an exception.” He turned to Yuri. “Agent Yuri, I was sorry to hear you’ve been cursed. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do. And Ms. Albeon, I’d be careful. Not all spells are obvious, and even the adepts miss things.”

Kei was instantly alert. “Do you know something?”

Another puff. He rolled the cigarette in his fingers, and it disappeared, leaving only a residual trail of smoke. He then nodded without answering the question, leaving the gesture open to interpretation as an assent or a goodbye. “If you’ll excuse me.”

They watched him go, and even Kei wasn’t willing to accost him or try to force further information from him. Nobody could intimidate Rick, or force him to reveal what he didn’t choose to reveal. Instead, she went to sit down, and swore when she had to climb even higher to get into her seat.

“Stupid high chairs. How are you supposed to sit in them?”

“With your bottom, silly,” Yuri giggled.

“Nice guy,” Callista joked, looking off where Javert had disappeared.

“The fucking CSI. Idiots. Just what we need to make a bad situation a fucking disaster. I can’t believe they would think you had anything to do with this, Cal. I mean, how fucking stupid is that?”

Callista shifted nervously, and both Yuri and Kei widened their eyes. Finally, Yuri couldn’t resist asking the question the gesture begged.

“You, um, didn’t, right? Have anything to do with it?”

Callista looked at them with some fear in her eyes. “No. At least, not that … I, um,…I don’t think so.”

“Cal, come on,” Kei was amazed there could even be a question on the subject.

Callista squirmed a second again, then blurted out.

“I saw her face.”

“Whose face?”

“The mage who was attacked – Carol Anne Geist.”

“So? What’s that got to do with it? You mean you saw her in a picture or something?”

A worried shake of her head, and she dropped her gaze to the table. “No. I mean, yes – I did see a picture afterwards, but I saw it before, when we woke up that night, after the attack or blackout or whatever. I was having some kind of nightmare, or now I guess it might have been a vision or something. I could see her face, and …” Her breath was a little ragged now. “And she was screaming.” Her eyes flew back up to lock on Kei’s. “And her face was so awful, so frightened and lost, and the scream…oh, God.” She covered her eyes as though to block the remembered image. “I wasn’t there. I was not there.” She repeated this a couple of times, as though trying to make sure she believed it herself, then opened her eyes. “So, why could I see her screaming? How did I know?”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

For it was a very good question indeed.

Copyright 2005 by Nomdreserv

[TheoW]

PERSONAL DEMONS

Part 14

By Nomdreserv

Gregor frowned as he listened, apparently to a silent voice from the air around him. Bob had seen both visual and audio communications through magic before, but this spell seemed to have a privacy function that made the other speaker audible only to Gregor.

“You’re sure?” Gregor asked. His frown deepened as he heard an apparent reassurance from the other speaker. “No, no. Sure you were very thorough. Excellent. Thank you.”

He gestured, and the magical ethernet connection was broken.

“Good news?” Lisa asked.

“Seemingly.” He became silent, obviously distracted.

“So…” Lisa prompted after several seconds. “Callista’s all right then?”

“What? Oh, yes. No sign of the magic in her.”

“That’s good.” When he remained silent, she continued. “Isn't it?”

“Of course. Yes. Wonderful.” A pause. “But rather unusual. Unexpected, as it were. Don’t like the unexpected. Too surprising.”

Lisa still thought this sounded like good news. “I like surprises.”

“Hmmph. Yes, all well and good until you find a tiger in your closet.”

She looked at him doubtfully. “Have you ever been surprised by a tiger in your closet?”

“What? Well, of course I’d be surprised! One doesn’t open one’s closet and expect to find tigers, you know!”

“No, I meant…”

“And it couldn’t very well lounge about in plain sight, now could it? I mean, you walk into your room and find an 800 pound tiger lying on the bed – you’re going to notice that!”

“Well, of course.”

“Yes, well then. I don’t know what kind of goings on complicate your bedroom, but that’s not the sort of detail that’s going to pass unnoticed in mine.”

“I only meant…”

“No need to flaunt your own peccadilloes. Quirks. Enthusiasms, even.”

“I'm not …!”

“Some of us are more conventional, thank you.”

“Conventional? You?”

“We can’t all share your peculiar, tiger-loving fantasies, you know. King of beasts, to be sure. Or you might prefer the queen. I'm not one to judge.”

Lisa flushed at the implications.

“I am not…”

“Tut, tut. Let’s not get huffy. As long as Bob and Karen are all right with it, that’s all that matters.”

Lisa took a deep breath to calm herself. “But who would put a tiger in your closet?” she persisted in exasperation, seeking to avoid further discussions of her personal lifestyle.

“A what? Where?” Gregor asked, wide-eyed.

“The tiger!” Lisa all but yelled. “The one in your closet.”

“Lisa, my dear young woman, I can assure you that my closets are completely tiger-free. A condition I most strongly recommend.”

Lisa began spluttering helplessly. “But … the tiger ... you said … surprised …”

“Surprised? Yes, I’ll admit I'm surprised at you babbling on about tigers – in or out of the closet - when we’re confronted by a serious problem like this.” He looked at Bob in sympathy. “I do apologize for her. Lisa has a tendency to become easily distracted.”

Bob smiled at Lisa to indicate complete understanding.

“Just one more thing to love about her,” Bob said warmly.

Immediately, Lisa’s bubbling indignation and frustration evaporated. She hadn’t received many public acknowledgments of her new situation like that, and her emerald green eyes sparkled as she gazed back.

“Yes, yes, all well and good. Domestic bliss and harmony.” He paused. “You know, I once knew a pair of twins, very lively young ladies, named Bliss and Har…”

Karen interrupted angrily, her mood perhaps not as elevated as it should have been by Bob and Lisa’s loving exchange.

“Can we get back to Bob’s problem?” she demanded.

He looked at her, wounded. “My dear Karen, never left it.” He tapped his head. “Still here.” He glanced accusingly at Lisa. “Despite some people’s efforts to drive it out with tigers.”

Lisa made as though to attack him, but was again disarmed by Bob’s smile.

“And?” she contented herself by asking pointedly.

“Ah,” was all he managed in return.

“Ah?” Lisa repeated incredulously. “Ah? AH?”

“Now, Lisa, there’s no need to start practicing your operatic scales. I have the problem well in … hmm, operatic scales. You know, there was a soprano singing Brunnhilde at Bayreuth last season who was so…” He spread his arms apart to indicate her girth.

“Gregor!”

“Can I at least ask why I shouldn’t use the magic to change myself back to normal height?” Bob asked, trying to redirect the spiraling conversation.

“Certainly,” Gregor said. “By the way, what is your normal height?”

“It’s, ummm, it’s…” Bob couldn’t believe he was having any difficulty remembering anything so simple. He noticed Karen and Lisa looking down at him in concern, both several inches taller than he was. “Well, it’s taller than this.”

“Is it?”

“Of course it is!” The question was absurd. He was normally … well, he was certainly taller than his wife. At least a little taller. Maybe. He tried to remember the way Karen had to look up at him when they hugged. At least when she wasn’t in heels.

That thought chilled him. She had to look up at him even when she was in heels, didn’t she? Strange, mixed memories clouded his mind. He seemed to remember Karen asking if she could wear heels to their wedding without embarrassing him. Of her looking down at him while they led the dance at their reception. People staring and chuckling as his face rested against her breasts.

But that was all wrong! He shook his head in desperation and the memories cleared. The remembered dance continued, but with Karen’s eyes drawing level to his and then dropping as he regained height. But how much height? Karen grew and shrank in his arms as the memory fluctuated and the dance continued. Which was right? With obvious alarm, he finally looked at Karen and Lisa for reassurance.

“I am taller than you, right?”

The question froze them, and before they could recover to answer, Gregor interrupted.

“And that’s why you can’t use your power to make yourself normal height.”

Karen and Lisa exchanged looks of ill-disguised alarm.

“Gregor, what do we do?” Lisa asked quietly.

“We go to see Councilor Canis,” the sorcerer announced.

“Canis? Why does he want to meet us there?” Callista asked.

“I don’t know,” Kei said. “That’s the message.”

“I like Professor Canis,” Yuri chirped. “He’s nice.”

“And everyone’s going?” Callista pursued.

“Guess so. Why?”

“I was hoping Gregor and I could have some time alone. That’s all.”

Callista’s attitude suggested there was more to it than that, but she wasn’t forthcoming about any other reservations.

Kei didn’t pursue it either. She’d been much quieter than usual, the twin humiliations at Jessie and Natalie’s hands still gnawing at her, reinforcing how vulnerable she was at her smaller size. Every once in a while she sort of swiped at the air behind her, as if half expecting to find something sticking out of her pants. And she was still damned short. Even after an hour of sitting and talking, doing her best to ward against even stray thoughts about sex, she had barely regained enough height to reach 5 feet. At this rate, it would take a week to get back to normal.

If she ever did.

A woman wearing a daring, silky off-shoulder dress walked by, her smooth shoulders and back almost completely exposed. The dress was also short enough to show off very shapely legs in tanned stockings. As if on cue, Kei felt a tingle and sank below the five foot mark yet again.

“Shit!”

“What’s wrong?” Yuri asked.

“Nothing,” Kei grumbled in reply. “Fucking nothing.”

She cast another look towards the woman’s swaying backside, enjoying her lissome body and exposed skin. Spectacular. She felt another tingle and lost another inch and still kept staring.

It was worth it.

When the woman disappeared, Kei tossed off the rest of her drink and wiped her loose sleeve across her mouth.

“Let’s hope Canis figures out some way to reverse this spell, or I'm going to end up riding around in Yuri’s cleavage.

“Oooh!” Yuri giggled in excitement, inadvertently creating waves that made her enhanced breasts jiggle. “That would be fun.”

And her partner’s eager comment and an extra second of watching those remarkable breasts dance cost Kei yet another inch.

She could only hope Gregor or Canis could find some answers before she got permanently reassigned to the Barbie squad.

“I think your suspicions were well founded, sir,” Javert said. The overbearing and superior manner he had used in addressing the women at Rick’s had been replaced with one decidedly more deferent.

And small wonder. Very few people failed to treat Scarabus with the utmost respect and care.

At least more than once.

“Just as I had feared.” The barest smile moved Scarabus’ mouth. “Are you ready to make a formal accusation?”

Javert hesitated. “Sir…no. The circumstantial evidence is strong. I don’t see how anyone can doubt Albeon’s responsibility given the targets, her proximity and opportunity, but … well, she has some supporters on the Council.”

“Zauberersohn.” The hint of a smile disappeared, replaced by a pained, tight line.

“I don’t even count him. Sorcerer Zauberersohn has obviously been tainted by his association with her. Once we’ve proved our case against her, we should be able to move against him.”

The slight smile returned. “I only hope we’ll be able to intervene in time. He could be in grave danger now that she’s turned.”

“Indeed. But as I was saying, there are some on the Council who require more than circumstantial evidence. And there are …” He thought about Rick’s interference. “Others with influence who have agendas of their own. We need more support or more evidence.”

“You’re working on collecting both, of course?”

“Naturally. I even managed to have one of my own agents in on her examination by the healers in the event that they found incriminating residuals.”

“And?”

“Nothing,” he admitted. “At least nothing objective. One of my adepts thought she caught a glimpse of a memory, but that’s not admissible.” He grimaced. “She’s immune to most low-level telepathic and truth spells.”

“How convenient for someone wishing to hide their true nature.”

“Exactly. If only we had a witness.”

“We may have one.”

“What?” Javert’s eyes shone in excitement and his thin mustache twitched slightly.

“Only speculation, I'm afraid. Those missing agents…what were their names?”

“Xena and Gabrielle.”

“Oh, yes.” His mouth moved in distaste. Why did agents pick such whimsical and childish initiation names? “Although we all fear the worst, there is reason to believe at least one of them might still be alive. After all, demons prefer to toy with their victims as long as possible.”

“Monsters.”

“Indeed. But in this case, a reason to hope. Should Xena escape or reappear, we may have our witness.”

Javert looked a little puzzled. “Xena, sir? You mean Xena or Gabrielle?”

“What? Oh, yes, of course. It might be either of them. Or both. We can only hope they’re both safe out there somewhere.”

“Indeed, sir.”

“Now then, as far as support for our cause. Time is critical, and we should concentrate on the one person who would tip the scales – the one Councilor who could proclaim her corruption on his own authority.”

Javert was already nodding as Scarabus finished his thought.

“Canis.”

“Oh God, I've missed you!”

The truth of Callista’s words to Gregor was obvious, as she spoke them after briefly breaking a long, passionate kiss to allow them both a chance to breathe. She almost immediately helped herself to a second course, pressing her body insistently against him in their embrace, while the others stood by awkwardly, trying not to stare.

They stood together outside a small town house on the Institute grounds, part of a mixed residential and academic complex. The house served as residence for Marcus Canis, a councilor mage and the Institute’s resident demonology expert. Yuri and Kei had been planning to see him anyway, in the hope that he could provide further information or a counterspell to the magic afflicting them, but Gregor had quickly superseded that after his meeting with Bob, Karen and Lisa, arranging for all of them to meet together.

To Lisa, this was an admission of just how grave the threat was from the magic afflicting Bob. Gregor almost never sought or needed advice, and his decision for an immediate consultation indicated a severity and concern that he tried to disguise with his usual random babbling.

Callista recognized the danger of the magic and implication of Gregor’s decision as well, in addition to her own reluctance to visit Canis, but didn’t care. All she knew was that she finally had Gregor back in her arms.

As their kissing and embraces grew more heated, the others became increasingly uncomfortable, even worrying the reunion might not be limited to that. Kei finally made an impatient cough, and Callista reluctantly released her hold, leaving Gregor blissfully flushed and breathless.

To be honest, his obvious delight to be with Callista again was tempered by slight confusion. A condition that had started when she had shown up in her tummy-baring shirt, remarkably short skirt and expensive, high-heeled boots. As Lisa had noted, she looked very good – the revealing clothes emphasizing her youth, naturally long legs, and toned body. Indeed, most men would have agreed instantly that she looked very, very hot.

She just didn’t look like Callista.

Nonetheless, their reunion and her obvious enthusiasm did wonders to alleviate his confusion about her appearance and lowered inhibitions.

“My word,” he said, feigning faintness. “I should go away more often.”

“Not without me next time,” she growled suggestively.

However, a more disquieting indication of those lowered inhibitions came the next second. Just before stepping back and releasing him from her embrace, Callista’s hand moved down Gregor’s body in a decidedly intimate and totally uncharacteristic gesture. She gave him a slight squeeze (where it counted), and he jumped with surprise.

“And just wait until we’re alone,” she whispered into his ear, flicking her tongue along it to emphasize the point.

The invitation and implication were obvious, and with most lovers, would have been wonderfully received. But Gregor and Callista weren’t most lovers. Indeed, although the point in general could be argued, they hadn’t physically been lovers at all. More importantly, the gesture and innuendo were so uncharacteristic, they caused Gregor’s eyes to widen with alarm rather than desire. He looked deeply into Callista’s smoldering eyes, noting the obvious arousal and a complete absence of her usual self-consciousness. She stared back with undisguised desire. Indeed, her whole manner had become open and aggressive, almost predatory. He glanced with some concern towards Yuri and Kei, as though seeking confirmation about the unusual behavior, and then cleared his throat.

“Ah. Excellent. Hrrmph. Yes. Still, business before pleasure. Are we all set? Bob? Yes? Very good.” He leaned over to stage whisper to Bob. “Now, don’t be concerned. Canis can seem a trifle eccentric.”

Bob watched Gregor turn and walk up to ring the bell with his mouth open. He finally turned and spoke quietly to Lisa.

“He’s calling someone eccentric?”

Lisa smiled. “Canis is nice. You’ll see.”

Gregor evidently heard an answer or invitation from within. Or perhaps he’d simply tired of waiting. He opened the door and motioned them all inside.

Bob hadn’t known what to expect inside the house of a demonologist - perhaps a room filled with moldy tomes, bubbling flasks, instruments of torture, skeletons, and fright masks. Instead, he was confronted by a clean and comfortable room out of the last century. There were overstuffed chairs and a couch, a fireplace complete with knickknack-loaded mantel, full bookshelves, and two side tables loaded with a staggering variety of sweet and savory snacks. A large desk in front of a huge picture window surveyed it all, and rising from behind it was an even more remarkable figure who now stood to greet them. He was remarkable partly by sheer size – at least 300 pounds despite being average height, making him look almost as wide as he was tall. Just as remarkable were his clothes, which seemed to be some kind of 19th century or Victorian throwback, including a coat, ruffed shirt and ascot. His voice matched his size, and he boomed out a greeting.

“Ah, Gregor, my dear chap, how excellent to see you. And looking so well. An extra twenty years given back will do that, won’t it? Well met, my friend, well met.” He turned at once towards Bob. “And this must be Rhodes. My word, how interesting. How do you do? Marcus Canis, at your service.”

He held out his meaty hand in apparently casual greeting, but his eyes were already boring in with entirely too much intensity as far as Bob was concerned. He felt as though he was some kind of experiment that had just been released for study.

And, frankly, Bob wasn’t too sure he wanted to serve as a test subject for any man affected enough to wear ascots.

His hesitation in returning the greeting was also occasioned by increasing discomfort. The magical mysteries surrounding them had been disturbing enough, but now he was feeling more and more physically overwhelmed as well. Gregor always seemed tall, at several inches over six feet, but he’d at least felt comfortable with an old friend. Meeting the others had reinforced just how much things had changed. Callista now loomed over him like a basketball star, and even Yuri was half a foot taller, making Bob realize he was well under average height even for women. Now he felt absolutely dwarfed next to the enormous bulk of the demonologist. He was beginning to feel like a child amongst adult company and also realized for the first time just how important size was to social ease and personal confidence. Indeed, he now found himself unconsciously trying to stand next to Kei as much as possible, the only person in the room shorter than he was.

He looked up cautiously towards their corpulent host and finally held out his hand.

“Robert Rhodes.”

Canis seized the slowly proffered hand earnestly and vigorously, his face breaking into a more reassuring smile.

“Good to meet you, sir. I’ve heard a great deal about you, of course, thanks to Gregor, but there’s nothing like meeting face to face, is there?” He pulled out a lens of some kind and held it up briefly for Bob to see. “May I?”

Before Bob could reply, he had started moving it around him, starting at his face and then moving down. From Bob’s perspective, all he could see was Canis’ studious expression, distorted through the glass, but reflected from the demonologist’s eyes were glints of color and light that showed the view was considerably different on his side. Canis grunted.

“That’s interesting.”

“Isn’t it?” Gregor agreed.

“I’m not sure I can place this secondary pattern.”

“The secondary isn’t too difficult. The third – ahh! Now that’s where things get interesting. The third pattern and resulting quantum shift are what make it really unusual.”

“Quantum shift? Surely not. The resulting instability would…”

“Exactly my point.”

“Hello?!” Kei cut in impatiently. “We’re waiting here too, you know.”

“What?” Canis asked, perturbed, then abruptly laughed at himself. “Of course. Forgive me, my dear. I couldn’t resist jumping straight into such an intriguing problem. Unforgivably impetuous of me. It’s my only weakness.” He began shaking hands all round. “Well said, agent Kei. And good to see you again.” He looked down into the still undersized agent’s eyes. “Hmm. Une petite guerrier. You did finish that little make-up assignment I gave you when you cut the Demonology Defense final, didn’t you?” As Kei flushed and hesitated, he moved on. “Never mind. I'm sure you did. No doubt you’ll be turning it in before the month’s out. I wouldn’t want Zhukov to have to bother himself about it. And Yuri – wonderful to see you again. You’re looking … um…”

He hesitated, wondering how to phrase his comments. Yuri’s hair was now almost entirely blond, but the color was still changing, looking less natural and more bleached. It had grown past shoulder length, and was becoming increasingly teased and curled. Her breasts were easily DD size and strained her shirt, lifting it out of her pants’ waist. Her lower uniform looked painted on, as her wider hips and bodacious bottom stretched it out.

“Positively pneumatic,” he finally finished. “By the way, that analysis you submitted on K-space void dynamics was masterful.”

Yuri giggled at the compliment, then twirled her hair teasingly.

“New-mat … what?” she asked, ignoring his comment about her forgotten analysis and trying to understand his apparent compliment. She liked it when people said she looked good.

“Ah. I see the problem.” He looked uneasily at Gregor. “Unrelated you say? Interesting. And Lisa, good to see you once more. Always a pleasure. And that leaves…?”

“Karen Rhodes,” Karen introduced herself.

“Delighted to make your acquaintance. I am at your service, madam.” Canis looked around with obvious anticipation. “Ah, Callista. Very glad to hear you were unaffected.” He paused as he took in her clothing. His eyes flicked once in a silent comment or question towards Gregor. “Yes. Very glad indeed. I wonder, would you mind if …?” He matched the question with the reappearance of his scry glass, apparently intending to examine her himself.

Callista surprisingly flushed with anger or embarrassment and stepped back.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” she said tensely.

Canis stopped in surprise. Several eyes widened.

“I mean…” she continued, trying to shrug it off. “They already cleared me. Let’s not waste any more time on me when it’s everyone else who needs our help.”

But she was very careful to keep her distance from Canis’ examination glass.

He noticed her skittishness, but smiled benignly.

“Very well. You’re quite right, I'm sure.” He seemed to try once more to sneak a look through it, but she was too far away to get any reading, and he set the glass back down. “But I'm neglecting my duties as host. Come in, come in. Sit down and make yourselves at home.” He gestured vaguely at the array of chairs and then more directly at the tables spilling over with an incredible array of food and beverages. “Now then, I suggest we discuss our problems over a light refreshment. I have coffee, juices, pastries, some cheese – I’m partial to the Wensleydale myself. Some freshly baked breads. The ham is Westphalian, quite remarkable. Oh – and some excellent caponata brought in directly from Sicily. I simply must have it brought over at least once a week. It’s my only weakness.”

He looked on genially while most of the others goggled at the spread of food. Even Bob and Kei, who were the most upset and agitated, had to admit it looked wonderfully appetizing, and Yuri, who seemed less and less troubled by her own transformation, set right in, piling several sweet pastries on a plate and holding another in her teeth while pouring herself coffee. The others moved in more circumspectly, determined to at least try the tantalizing delicacies despite their uneasiness.

Gregor, however, seemed unmoved.

“No tea?” he asked stiffly.

Canis smiled. “I would hardly presume to impose my own simple tastes on such a connoisseur.” A pause and twinkle in his eye. “However, the silver pot on the far right contains some freshly brewed first-flush Darjeeling from a reputable Puttabong estate.”

Gregor relaxed immediately, approached the pot and carefully lifted the lid, allowing some of the aromatic vapors to escape. The wafted upwards and seemed to draw his mouth into a smile with them.

“Spot on, as always,” he admitted. “Excellent.”

Canis beamed at the approbation. “I thought it might make a nice match for the Beaufort d'Alpage – that’s the gruyere-type next to the gorgonzola. It’s from the French Alps. Very exclusive. The cows there can only graze during the summer, you understand, severely limiting production.” He seemed to swell proudly.

Gregor looked mildly interested. “What do they do with the cows during the winter?”

Canis was nonplussed and slightly deflated. “What? Um, well, I don’t know. No one ever asked…. I would suppose…”

“Never mind, never mind,” Gregor suggested airily, popping a wedge of the cheese into his mouth and then pouring a large cup of tea. “No doubt they winter on the Mediterranean.”

“Winter on the Mediterranean?” Canis spluttered. “How the deuce would the cows get to the Mediterranean?”

“Easy enough walk. It would all be downhill off the mountains, eh?”

Canis stared coldly. “I very much doubt…”

“Not to worry,” Gregor continued, almost picking up another wedge but deciding against it. “It’s not half bad.”

“Not half bad?” Canis demanded in disbelief. “Not half bad!?”

“Ah, you agree then? Never mind, old fellow. I'm sure some of the others will like it.”

Canis shook his head. “Never mind. Just eat. You look hungry, and I can’t abide anyone going hungry in my house. It’s my only weakness.”

“Just so. Bite to eat and then to work, eh? Very good.”

Canis oversaw their selections personally, determined to see that everyone had something to eat, as though an empty plate was abhorrent. He was also eager to show his menu to its best advantage, suggesting and piling more items on plates when people seemed uncertain. Then he arranged them and fussed over them, until he was certain everyone was settled and had at least tasted some of their food. Satisfied at last, he helped himself to an enormous serving of ham and cheese on one plate, set it on his desk, then brought over another plate with several slices of crusty bread, brown mustard, and the caponata, which was a sort of relish or tapenade featuring eggplant, onions, tomatoes, and anchovies in olive oil, and finally a third plate loaded with a gigantic slice of a raspberry Danish kringle, some coffee cake, and several Florentines. He sat behind his desk and contemplated the feast contentedly for several seconds. Nodding happily when he saw everyone else take at least a polite bite to start, he sighed audibly as he started eating, making remarkable progress through the imposing stack of ham.

“Now then,” he continued, between large bites of bread and cheese. “I think it would be best if I heard the entire story from the victims themselves. Bob, perhaps you could start? Would you mind telling me everything that has happened the last few days? How the problem started, and what manifestations there have been? Omit no detail, no matter how trivial.”

A story-telling philosophy to which the author personally subscribes with obvious enthusiasm. However, in the interest of long-suffering readers, I’ll resist the temptation to recap the story and simply proceed.

Canis listened to Bob’s recounting, then to additional details provided by Karen and Lisa. After they finished, he sat in silence for several seconds, his fingers tented thoughtfully. Gregor unexpectedly broke the silence as he helped himself to a second cup of tea.

“A metaphasic hybrid between the crystalline-organic matrix imprint, the mutagenic capability of the spell virus, supercharged by the influx of chaos energy, wouldn’t you say?” he suggested, pausing as he took a bite of cake. “Or would you?”

Canis, visibly irritated, sighed heavily.

“Presumption. Pure presumption.”

“Doesn’t make it wrong,” Gregor insisted.

Another sigh. “Gregor, my friend, as much respect as I have for your well-known brilliance in matrix analysis, and sometimes inexplicable insight into magical quantum theory.” He said the last with some obvious traces of resentment and jealousy. “You and I will always differ as to method. You CAN’T draw conclusions before establishing all the facts.”

“Certainly you can,” Gregor replied airily. “Do it all the time.”

“Then you’ll be wrong. At least sometimes.”

“Haven’t yet.”

A disgusted noise. “I know. And it’s very irritating.” He made another face and pushed his plate away, as though losing his appetite (which may have been the most remarkable transformation recounted so far). “But for all your accomplishments, you can’t explain the method. You get the right answer, but since you can’t show the intermediate steps, no one else can reproduce your experiments. That is not how we do things.”

“Not how you do them,” Gregor corrected, then glanced at the still impressive array on the table. “One man’s meat, eh?”

“Method is everything,” Canis insisted, doggedly. “That is how we advance.”

“Sounds more like science than magic,” Bob suggested, hoping to forestall further bickering.

“Exactly my point,” Canis said, looking pleased. “I have always insisted that any magic, sufficiently explicated, becomes indistinguishable from science. That is what we must strive for.”

“Bah,” Gregor objected, setting his empty cup down. “Waste of time. Words not action. Or versa vice.” He took a knife and stabbed the ham dramatically. “Cut to the chase. Gordian knot. Or in this case, establish a conduit for removing the chaotic flux. More your line than mine. Think you can help? Yes or no? In or out?”

Canis drew himself up majestically. “Of course I can help. But I insist on a thorough examination first, plus an opportunity to test my hypotheses before acting.”

“Time is money. Or inches in this case,” Gregor shot back. “Bob may not want to wait.”

Canis looked at Bob sternly. “I understand that, but safety first. To act before confirmation is more dangerous than not to act at all. I put it to you, Mr. Rhodes. We can begin the examination immediately if you wish to put yourself in my hands.”

Bob hesitated. The idea of waiting until he shrank even further was almost intolerable. He was already shorter than Karen and Lisa, but only by an inch or two. Waiting longer would mean he’d be a lot shorter, even ridiculously shorter, by the time they found an answer. On the other hand, Gregor had already warned him that the shrinking could be permanent unless the magic was removed in exactly the right way. Waiting might also be his best shot at returning to normal height. He looked at both Karen and Lisa, and thought he saw the same decision in their eyes.

“I guess I'm in your hands,” he said to Canis.

“Excellent,” he nodded.

“Hopefully not literally,” Gregor mumbled.

Kei set down her own plate with a loud crash. “Excuse me. There are others here waiting for answers too.”

“Too true, too true,” Canis admitted. “You’ve caught me indulging in philosophy again. Irresistible, I'm afraid. It’s my only weakness.”

Bob was beginning to lose track of how many weaknesses Canis was admitting to.

“But your problem is easier to address,” the demonologist continued smoothly. “Both you and Yuri are obviously hexed.”

Yuri’s head shot up hopefully from her plate of sweets, thinking she’d heard “sex,” but when Canis continued talking about magic, she went back to eating, slightly disappointed.

“Ya think?” Kei asked sarcastically, standing to her full 5 feet of height and showing off her loose clothing.

“The problem, of course, lies in the chaotic matrix of your spells. That makes removing the curses more difficult. Of course, if we knew the nature of the magic…”

He looked questioningly to Gregor, who was apparently oblivious and studiously examining a marmalade jar. Just as he seemed fully exasperated and ready to proceed without an answer, Gregor spoke, never taking his eyes off the jar.

“Unregistered matrix. Probably natural.”

“Natural?” Canis looked alarmed. “Bio-generated?”

“Almost certainly.”

Canis settled back with a much graver expression. That meant a demon had personally crafted the spells. “Who did it, Kei?”

“I don’t know.” It was true, but a slight pause as she said it made Canis frown.

“Kei, you know any successful demonic attacks have to be reported.” He used a computer screen at his desk and called up some records. “I see you’ve had several encounters recently. Were you afraid of marring your otherwise excellent record?”

Kei glared. “We weren’t hit.”

“Your size says otherwise.”

“It wasn’t from a battle.”

“No? You were attacked off duty then? That seems even more serious.” An idea lit his face. “Those two you’ve been after – what are their names? Natalie and Richard. You were pulled off the case after they ambushed you. Continuing the pursuit on your own?”

Canis hoped he’d found the secret. Being cursed while disobeying orders would certainly explain her reluctance to discussing it.

Kei first paled, then flushed at the name. Her last encounter with Natalie still haunted her, making her doubt for the first time her own abilities and position. She had always assumed she could eventually defeat her.

And now, as her smaller size left her feeling more and more vulnerable, and less and less confident anyway, Natalie had shown just how dangerous she could be when given the opportunity. Kei knew that the right thing to do – the cautious, prudent thing to do – was to admit everything that had happened and throw herself under the protection of the Institute. But she couldn’t. It wasn’t just her pride this time, though that played a role as well, it was the implied protection for Yuri if she kept quiet. As bizarre as it seemed, she thought the promise was genuine. If it meant sacrificing herself, well…

[TheoW]

Besides, although Natalie certainly seemed fully aware of Kei’s situation, she took no credit for it. Kei was sure she would have taken great pains to make sure Kei knew she was responsible for their curse if she was. That meant there was still someone else.

When she realized people were watching her expectantly, she grimaced and shook her head. “No. I don’t think it was them.”

“Come, come,” he chided. “Who then? It’s obviously demonic in origin. Hard to believe they took you by surprise. And you don’t exactly consort with a lot of dem…”

He froze in mid word, his eyes darting guiltily towards Callista. Kei flushed slightly, and there was an uncomfortable silence for several seconds. Gregor cleared his throat.

“An unknown agent,” he suggested.

“Of course,” Canis agreed, sounding doubtful. “Well then, the problem comes down to this: discover the agent or treat empirically.”

Bob asked the obvious question. “Can’t you just reverse the spells?” He looked around. “All of them?”

“We could,” Canis agreed. “But there are so many inherent problems and dangers with chaotic magic. Ideally, the specific agent, whether the mage or some artifact, responsible for the spell should reverse it. Like a key fitting a lock. You can pick it or force it, but you may irreparably damage the lock by doing so.”

“No locksmiths, huh?” he asked ruefully.

“My dear sir, you’re looking at two of the best. If anyone can unlock these spells by pure reason.” He paused and glanced at Gregor. “Or by pure luck, we could do it. The problem is one of time. Wait too long, and the spell effects are permanent.”

Bob was puzzled. “I thought all magic was permanent.”

“Not at all. For example, the size changing magic you’ve experimented with - you’ve always ended up back at your original size, no?”

“Because we made ourselves that way,” he argued.

“No, no, not at all. Did you always specify your exact height, down to a fraction of a cm? Or at all? Most likely not. You simply thought of yourself as ‘normal’ size and the magic took you there.”

“And now?”

“Haven’t you wondered why normal reversal spells aren’t working? This is your normal size now.”

Bob paled, afraid to meet Karen’s or Lisa’s eyes.

“So, what do we do?” Karen interjected earnestly.

“We study, we learn, we experiment,” Canis answered.

Lisa interrupted angrily. “We can’t wait! We need to do something now! I thought that’s why we came here.”

“Immediate action could be catastrophic,” Canis cautioned sadly. “For any of you. But particularly for Mr. Rhodes. The energy around him is particularly unstable.” An examining lens once more materialized in front of him. “Amazing. Absolutely unique. Chaotic and ephemeral.” He looked around the room uneasily. “I’m surprised we’re not seeing manifestations of the power as we speak.”

Bob held up the finger displaying the ring Gregor had given him. In Canis’ scope, it showed up as a completely dark safety zone amid the ever-changing colors that played through Bob’s aura. Canis zoomed in on it.

“Whaaaa…?”

“A little trinket,” Gregor explained. “General dampening effect. Keep them handy.”

Canis looked at him angrily. “You had no idea it would work in this case.”

“It did.”

“But you didn’t…I mean, you couldn’t….oh, never mind!” he said in exasperation. For the first time, he seemed genuinely irate. “Why don’t you just make up some spell from thin air and completely cure him while you’re at it?”

“Can’t,” Gregor admitted, looking at Bob ruefully. Then he brightened. “Soon, perhaps. As I said to Councilor Thomasson after he inadvertently turned himself into a grandfather’s clock, it’s only a matter of time.”

Canis made a wry, skeptical face. “Thomasson turned himself into a clock? An actual, working clock?”

“Absolutely,” Gregor insisted blithely, then added conspiratorially by way of explanation, “Well, to be honest, he didn’t keep very good time. He was always a bit slow, don’t you know.”

Canis growled sourly. “Yes, well then. I suggest we start at once. Yuri, have you made any plans as to discovering the perpetrator for your own ensorcellment?”

Yuri seemed puzzled, and looked for candy on the table. “What kind of mints?” she asked.

Canis was stunned. “We may need to intervene empirically after all,” he suggested to Gregor.

Gregor shook his head. “Not yet. Too risky. Cures, not Band-Aids.”

“I hardly know where to start,” Canis admitted doubtfully.

“Then it doesn’t matter. Jump in. Eggs in a basket. Build the straws one house at a time, as it were. I suggest we start with Bob. More pressing case.”

“Oh, thank you very much,” Kei said angrily.

“Can’t be helped. Orders of magnitude.”

“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” Canis told them. “This may take a while, but a thorough examination is paramount in case like this. The very basis of a scientific analysis.”

Gregor rolled his eyes at the term, but seemed very glad to have someone else working on the problem now.

And, in a sense, this made Lisa worry even more than before.

“Sir, your updates. I included the known activity for Zauberersohn first, but also the CSA logs for the day.”

“Thank you.” Scarabus began reading the delivered reports even while continuing the conversation. “Perfect. They have involved Canis, just as I assumed. We can proceed.”

Belisarius opened his eyes, the skin cracking around them. His skin was now parchment-thin and dry, lined with glowing red lines as though a fire burning within him had almost broken through. His sparse white hair moved as though in an invisible breeze.

“At last. I cannot hold this shell together for more than another day.”

“With luck, that’s all we’ll need. We may be able to move tonight. Prepare yourself.”

Belisarius glared poisonously at the implied order and authority, but decided the time was too close for distractions. He disappeared with a half muttered threat.

Scarabus seemed unperturbed. He looked up from his reports, his gaze sweeping across them all and holding on Kelly. “Now that the plan is in motion, we need to keep sight of our secondary goals. We need distractions for the CSA as a whole and for our targeted individuals in particular. Donas, do you think you can handle Rhodes and Notokrisse?”

Kelly smiled rapaciously. “I’m eager to try, Master.”

A slight frown. “Let’s make sure our goals are clear. And, of course, by our goals I mean mine. You are not going for revenge here, is that understood?”

She grimaced, clearly not happy with the plan. “Yes, Master.”

“The time for that may arrive soon,” he admitted. “But direct attacks would draw unwanted and specific attention. We’re looking to keep them off balance, not give them a target. Besides, I have certain … sources that clearly suggest that the Rhodes woman could be sympathetic to our cause, and is at the very least educable. He may even be considering a play for her himself. Given her potential power, I would not be averse to adding hers to my own. Your own history and feelings are obviously subordinate to that.”

Kelly winced at the suggestion that Karen was not only valuable as a potential ally, but at the clear implication in his tone that she could be more valuable than Kelly herself. She couldn’t resist arguing a little. “But Notokrisse…”

“Harming her friend and lover would hardly be persuasive in having her join us,” he interrupted. “Not to mention the synergy they’ve already shown. I want the group intact for now. They may develop into a true harmony” (he used the term in its specific magical sense) “which would be rare indeed. Having them join us willingly is preferable, though not essential. To that end, I suggest a show of kindness and conviviality to start. It might work, no matter how contrived. And alternative forms of persuasion for later. In any case, your assignment now is to distract and remove them from Albeon’s support. We need to keep her as isolated as possible.”

“Remove? That I can do,” Kelly mumbled.

He fixed her with a stare. “No lethal force. Is that understood? Even when we make our final move that kind of magic is undesirable.”

“Draws far too much attention,” Natalie put in genially.

“Not to mention being tacky,” Richard suggested.

Scarabus simply glanced at them tolerantly before continuing. “Take this,” he ordered Kelly, handing her a ring with a carved silver face.

She recognized an advanced matrix in the design. “What kind of magic?” she asked.

“Size control,” he answered.

She seemed surprised. “You mean shrinking? But that’s the sort of ridiculous magic they’re always playing with.”

“Exactly.”

She fingered her mind-control medallion lovingly. “With all due respect, I think with this, I’ll hardly need…”

Once again his glare cut her off and she went pale at the realization that her arguing could seem insubordinate.

“Your questioning my recommendations already indicates a lack of ‘due respect,’ Donas,” he glowered. After several seconds of apparent indecision, he finally relented. “You’re still a novice, and I can understand your infatuation with your new power, so I’ll excuse it this time.” A cold smile. “And I understand your preference for mind-control. It is, after all, my own specialty. However, consider the possibilities. They could be resistant. A select few are. They may have protection. It may fail.” He glanced at Richard. “Consider its source.”

Richard looked wrathful. “Sorcerer,” he growled warningly.

Scarabus snorted dismissively. “I merely allude to the unpredictability of chaotic magic,” he explained, looking decidedly insincere but also unconcerned. “Size magic offers several distinct advantages as a backup. First, it represents a purely physical spell, complementary to your mental power. Second, as you correctly noted, it’s the same sort of magic they’ve been using.”

“Susceptibility,” Natalie put in, unable to resist demonstrating her own knowledge and determined to show that they wouldn’t take offense at his other comment.

“Exactly,” he admitted, making a slight nod of acknowledgment to her. “It means they are particularly vulnerable to that energy. Further, it anything untoward happens, the first suspicion will be that one of their own spells has gone wrong. They have before, they will again. A perfect cover. If, for example, it becomes necessary to literally crush one of them beneath our heels…” A tight smile. “Not that I am suggesting this as a preferred method of dealing with intransigence. Yet. My point is that finding a one-inch corpse amongst a group that has been freely experimenting with shrinking would immediately be interpreted as an unfortunate accident, not a deliberate murder. A critical distinction if it comes to that.”

Kelly nodded her understanding, and contented herself with mental images of Lisa cowering beneath her descending heel.

“And lastly, and tying into this, always use your opponents’ strength against them. If Zauberersohn has made himself the self-proclaimed master of size and age magic,” he said this last rather distastefully, “then it behooves me to match him and even use his own spells against him. Consider how superbly his discovery of a shrinking spell which could bypass agents’ antimagic played into our hands with the woman you captured.” (Referring to Xena.) “Not only did it make her capture possible, but suspicion is automatically cast towards him or one of his confidantes.”

He finished speaking, expecting no further discussion, and again glanced at the reports in front of him. A second later, his expression became intent, followed by thoughtful, and finally sublime.

“How interesting,” he finally said conversationally. “And unexpected. It would seem fortune has given us an opportunity.” When Richard and Natalie showed no particular interest, he turned to Kelly. “You may find this amusing, my dear. It would seem that the man Rhodes has a new problem. The chaotic magic bound to him appears to be expanding beyond his control.” He handed Kelly a page, which she scanned.

“Interesting,” she admitted. She skipped right past the part detailing the unfortunate episode with the tennis match, which was what drew Scarabus’ attention, instead enjoying the mental image of Bob losing both his size and control. She briefly imagined tormenting a tiny Bob along with Lisa and smiled at the thought. “Bad news for them.”

“And good for us,” Scarabus noted.

“Huh?”

He ignored her and turned to Richard and Natalie. “I think we’ve gotten the opening we needed to release you. It’s time to divert the CSA’s attention.”

Both of them immediately shot up straight, alert and eager. Natalie snapped her fingers and the paper disappeared from Kelly’s hand, reappearing in her own.

“This last episode was public and untraceable,” he continued. “If there were others…” he trailed off, almost purring.

Natalie seemed to anticipate him perfectly, and simply smiled, showing her sharp teeth hungrily, but Richard seemed confused.

“Others? Other whats?” he demanded testily.

Natalie patted his hand. “I’ll explain later. Let’s just say we have a few small tasks to perform.”

The wait seemed interminable in Canis’ home, but at least the tantalizing array of foods and drinks offered a diversion. Karen was already helping herself to a third plate. Callista, whose inhibitions in regard to food seemed as loosened as those regarding her clothes and deportment, joined her with muted enthusiasm appropriate to the situation. Yuri was pouring herself another mimosa and nibbling on the pastries, while Kei and Lisa seemed to be sleeping.

“I can’t believe how hungry I am,” she offered to Callista as an excuse, taking another large piece of the Danish in addition to some fresh fruit (which allowed her the silent justification that she was eating something healthy).

“And it is very good,” Callista replied. Of course, everything had tasted better to her the last day or so, perhaps in response to her new, “relaxed” outlook on life.

“I like this juice,” Yuri said cheerfully, tilting her glass back. “It makes me feel all tingly.” She shook her breasts slightly as if to prove the point.

Kei opened an eye. “Everything makes you tingly now.” She didn’t say it as though it was necessarily a bad thing.

Yuri simply giggled and poured another glass.

“I'm not surprised you’re hungry,” Lisa reassured Karen, apparently awake despite her closed eyes and relaxed posture. “We missed dinner entirely last night.”

Karen’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God! I completely lost track of time. What day is it?” She looked at her watch. “Damn! It’s tomorrow already. I have to present that report!”

Yuri’s glass stopped halfway to her lips, and her face screwed up in confusion.

“It’s tomorrow?”

“Yes. We’ve been here all night.”

“How can it be tomorrow if it’s today?”

“We came here yesterday, and now it’s today,” Karen said sharply, worried about something else.

“Right,” Yuri said slowly. “So it’s today, not tomorrow.” She seemed fairly happy to be back on sure ground.

“Today is yesterday’s tomorrow,” Kei said helpfully, by way of clarification.

Yuri’s eyes almost crossed in confusion, and then filled with tears. “Now you’re just being mean,” she complained, her lip trembling.

Kei sighed and heaved herself out of her chair to take Yuri aside and explain the sequence of days. Lisa sat up and turned to Karen.

“Can’t you cancel? I'm sure Gregor can pull a few strings.”

Karen shook her head uncertainly. “This was already rescheduled twice, and I'm on thin ice after that last disaster.” She referred to a meeting she’d ruined after turning into a teenager. “It’s in the morning. I could probably get away again afterwards.”

“I suggest you keep your meeting,” Canis announced, reappearing in the room and leading Gregor and Bob in his prodigious wake. “One of the agents can bring you home and return you as needed. It’s the least we can do.”

An electric shock of excitement accompanied their return. Karen and Lisa immediately jumped up to embrace Bob and make sure he was all right, and were slightly disappointed to find him still a couple of inches shorter than they were. Lisa looked to Gregor, hope still lighting her face, only to have it fade when she saw his.

“You…haven’t figured out how to reverse it, have you?” she asked.

Canis looked nonplussed.

“We have made considerable progress in the elucidation of …”

“No,” Gregor cut him off.

“Are you any closer?” Karen asked in turn.

Canis nodded vigorously. “The complexity and interactions of this magic make it particularly difficult to…”

“No,” Bob said quietly, anticipating Gregor’s action.

Karen and Lisa looked stricken. Canis flushed.

“That’s not true. Gregor’s assumptions…” He spoke the term condescendingly. “Have so far proved accurate. The next steps are confirmation and explication, and then experimentation at counteraction. Eventually…”

“Bah!” Gregor interposed. “Admit it. Limitations of the vaunted scientific method. Time for action. Intuitive leaps.” Although he spoke solemnly, there seemed to be an underlying twinkle of satisfaction.

Canis glared. “That does not invalidate the process. We simply need more time to …”

“To the chase, man. To the chase,” Gregor urged.

Lisa tried to calm the waters, and effectively did just as Gregor had suggested at the same time. “Professor Canis, can you reverse the spell on Bob?”

“Ah,” Canis sighed deeply. “Yes, well. Hmm. Quite frankly, I don’t see any way as yet to counteract the magic.”

“What?” Karen and Lisa demanded in concert.

“Please, please, everyone, just sit down and relax. Have something to eat, and let me explain.” He eyed the tables hungrily himself, but seemed resigned to postponing his own satisfaction until after his speech. When the initial panic had subsided and they had composed themselves, he continued. “It is true that the magic as yet seems impossible to reverse. It’s the mutagenic effects. The magic and its matrices are literally changing every second. It’s the interaction of the virus and chaotic magic – their combination is random and instantaneously variable, literally irreversible.”

“Nonsense,” Gregor retorted, as though rising to the occasion. “The word’s not even in my vocabulary.”

“Which word?” Canis asked, puzzled. He had used quite a few in his last declaration.

“Can’t say,” Gregor touched his nose conspiratorially. “Then it would be in my vocabulary.” He leaned back. “Your fault is assuming that we need to reverse all intermediate steps. Impractical. Go to the source. We still have the underlying matrix of the medallion. That’s the constant.”

“Agreed. But not suitable for standard neutralization because of its chaotic transformation.” A pause. “I suggest that the only way to truly cleanse Bob of the magic is through full absorption.”

Callista tensed at the word. It was as though a secret fear had been realized and publicly disclosed. Bob, Karen and Lisa sat forward hopefully, but their hopes sank as Gregor shook his head vigorously.

“No.”

“I didn’t recommend it,” Canis added hurriedly. “I simply state it for the record. It is the only absolutely assured method of removing the chaotic flux.”

“Not acceptable.”

“I agree. That doesn’t make it incorrect,” he insisted, as stubborn to defend his own points as Gregor and to restore some honor to his scientific method.

Callista looked at Bob’s expression and the tormented faces of Karen and Lisa. She took a deep breath and seemed to resign herself to an unhappy decision.

“Look, I think we should consider…” she started to say.

“Absolutely not,” Gregor cut her off curtly.

She flushed. “I think the decision is mine,” she shot back.

“Only if fully informed,” he insisted. “Which we are not. Philosophically impossible, in any case. Uncertainty, you know. Heisenberg. Schroedinger. Can’t let the cat out of the box and all that.”

“But…”

“The impossible takes a bit longer,” Gregor soothed her. “Patience is all we need, as the doctor announced when opening his practice. Rabbit out of the hat eventually. Keep your cards dry, eh?”

“Just what is ‘absorption’?” Karen asked cautiously, still determined to find out what Canis meant.

Canis was pleased to get back to more familiar ground after Gregor’s ramblings.

“We are fortunate that Bob is a true null. Essentially no magic potential. That means that even the magics which have been grafted onto him, no matter how closely, can still be removed.”

“How?” she demanded tensely.

He paused. “Ah. That’s the problem. With simple magic, any high-level mage could do it. Of course, you’d need a ground – something to absorb the magic – but the procedure itself is theoretically sound.”

“But this isn’t simple magic,” Lisa pointed out cautiously.

“No,” he agreed heavily. “No, and that poses two significant problems. The magic here is biogenetetically active. It would require another person to absorb it.”

“I’ll do it!” Lisa offered, about half a second before Karen said the same thing. Bob felt a momentary flush of exultation in their love before readying himself to refuse to allow them the danger.

Canis shook his head before Bob could speak, preempting his noble intent.

“First of all, I doubt either of you could work the spell. And even if you could, you wouldn’t be able to withstand it. Remember, the magic is chaotic. The only person who could hope to handle it…” His eye moved involuntarily to Callista, who immediately flushed.

“Of course I’ll do it,” she offered quietly but firmly, repeating her earlier intent.

“Impossible,” Gregor insisted again.

“Why?” Karen asked, politely insistent despite Gregor’s dark look at the question.

“Exponential instability,” was his only comment.

“We can’t be sure of that,” Canis interjected tentatively.

Gregor tapped his head silently, as if that offered sufficient rebuttal.

“Well, I can’t be sure of it,” Canis grumbled.

“What does that mean – exponential instability?” Karen persisted.

Canis sighed. “The other huge advantage of Bob being a null is his inherent resistance to chaotic flux. Quite frankly, if this magic had infected anyone else.” A pause. “If it were to infect anyone else, the results would be catastrophic. The size contraction would probably accelerate at a pace commensurate with their potential: the more magic they had naturally, the faster the spell would run its course. Probably any one of us would have shrunk to microscopic size within days.”

There were long seconds of silence.

“But,” Callista suggested cautiously. “If we found a way to reverse it. I could still…”

Gregor shook his head peremptorily. “Too dangerous. As Marcus has said – it may not be reversible.”

She took another deep breath. “Still. It’s my decision. And this is my fault.” She looked at Bob hopefully. “I’ll still do it.”

Gregor had already started up to refuse, but this time Canis preceded him.

“It really would be very dangerous, Callista,” he cautioned. “Although I suspect an ifrit nature is in fact the only way to absorb the magic, there is every reason to believe that the spell would progress even more dramatically within a chaotic essence, perhaps even by an order of magnitude.”

“Meaning?”

“The magic is working very slowly in Bob because of his inherent lack of magical potential. He is shrinking a few inches a day at most.”

“You say that like it’s nothing!” Karen blurted angrily.

“Sorry. I realize any size loss seems intolerable, but you have to understand that he really is very lucky he’s a null. If you had been affected, Ms. Rhodes, you’d probably be losing several inches every hour.”

“Look,” Callista objected. “That really doesn’t change anything. I understand the danger, and I want to help him.”

“Of course you do, but the result could be catastrophic. As Gregor has suggested, you are not yet fully informed. If it would take a matter of days for us to shrink beyond sight, it might run its course in you within hours. Possibly even faster depending on your full potential. I'm not sure we’ve even established that reliably.”

She looked suitably worried, but flashed a smile towards Gregor. “Not much time for you to work your magic. I'm counting on another miracle,” she joked. She turned back to Canis, apparently still resolved to take the risk. “How would I do it?”

Canis hesitated, weathering Gregor’s warning look. It was clear the sorcerer didn’t want him giving Callista any instructions regarding the ritual, for fear she might use them.

“Simply siphoning the power off would be difficult and exceedingly complex. Only a high-level and very developed mage could manage that. However, there is an alternative” he paused in some embarrassment. “Theoretically, since you introduced the chaotic flux through your previous intimacy…”

Karen and Lisa shifted uncomfortably.

“A similar or greater level of intimacy should be able…”

“Now wait a minute!” Not unexpectedly, several voices exploded at once. There was a jabber of objections and comments, with Canis trying to restore reason, when suddenly it was Bob who restored calm.

“Excuse me,” he demanded loudly, waiting for the arguing voices to dissipate. “EXCUSE ME!” When he had their attention, he continued more quietly. “Callista is only half right about this being her decision. It’s also mine.” He looked resignedly around the expectant eyes. “Since I’m the only one who can contain this magic safely, I’m keeping it.”

“But you’re not containing it safely,” Karen pointed out, fighting to keep her composure. “Look at yourself!”

Her tremulous manner when referring to Bob’s dwindling size betrayed just how deeply they all felt it, no matter how much they tried to ignore it. He was already close to losing any chance to maintain a “normal” public profile, even ignoring what the ultimate consequences might be with further delays.

And no one knew that better than Bob, as he found himself surrounded on all sides by dauntingly tall men and women. He’d already felt acute pangs of embarrassment and inadequacy at finding himself shorter than both Karen and Lisa by this point, and now even Kei was drawing close to even in height.

But to Bob’s credit, he put his own fears aside. At least for some things, size didn’t matter.

“But I'm still doing a better job than anyone else,” he pointed out. He looked at Gregor hopefully. “And like Callista, I’m willing to trust Gregor.”

Gregor came over and clapped Bob on the shoulder, his six-foot-plus frame dwarfing him.

“Stout fellow! Knew it. Salis mundi and all that. Won’t regret it. Have you back to normal in two winks and a nod.” He paused. “Or is it two nods and a wink? Never mind. Sally forth.” Another pause and his eyes went wide. He snapped his fingers. “And Sally is just the person I should see next. Absolutely brilliant – nearly my level – and she specializes in alternative size magics. Quite so, quite so. Fires in the iron, cooks in the pot.” He strode towards the door and plopped his worn traveling hat onto his head, slightly askew. “I’m off!”

And as he disappeared, Canis mumbled, “Sometimes, I’m afraid you are.”

Copyright 2005 by Nomdreserv