Chapter 3: Chapter 3 – Changes

I try again.

“What the fuck?”

Same voice, just not the one I’m used to. I clear my throat and try again.

“What—“ Nope, still not my normal voice.

“—the—“ It’s higher than my accustomed voice, but not like high high. Low alto?

“—fuck?” Honestly, it’s kind of sexy, like a femme fatale in a black and white movie.

Also, ow. I fumble with my belt buckle. Yep, it’s really digging into my tummy, which is definitely still there, but feels different? I can’t really see what I’m doing because my t-shirt is stretched across what are undeniably breasts. Large breasts that are in the way.

I get my belt unbuckled and the button on my jeans pops open. My jeans still feel very tight all around, but I can breathe, so that’s an improvement. There’s still significant discomfort at the base of my spine and some sensations that my brain just isn’t able to interpret.

I take Sam’s hand again and she hoists me off the floor. She’s surprisingly strong. I get dizzy again, but soon steady myself.

Rob is trying valiantly to look me in the eye, but his gaze keeps wandering lower. “Honestly wasn’t expecting that dramatic of a transformation. I guess I should have had you strip before we did that,” he says.

“Perv!” Sam says and slaps him lightly on the arm.

“Lets get you to the bathroom so you can have some privacy and I’ll see what I can do about some clothes for you.” Sam points at a little hallway on the side of the room and I wobble over. There are two all-gender restrooms, so I push open the first door and go inside. I fumble for the light switch, and am grateful when the light that comes on is not fluorescent. The bathroom is finished aside from an incomplete paint job on one wall. I go to the sink and look in the mirror.

It’s sure a different look than what I usually see in the mirror. I guess I’m not one hundred percent human.

Also, it’s definitely not a man looking back at me.

My skin is still pale, but it now has a faint lavender tone. I guess that’s why my arm looked weird. My hair is very dark, with a purple sheen where the light catches it. I think my hair is about the same length as before. It’s hard to tell for sure, since it seems somewhat straighter and finer, but it’s still a complete mess. Also, the horns are new.

I reach up to touch one and then wrap my hand around it and give a gentle tug. Yep, it’s very much attached. The horns start right about where I previously had the beginning of male pattern baldness and sweep gently up and back. When I wrap my hand around one, the point just sticks out of my fist.

I lean closer to look at my face. It hasn’t been completely transformed, I look more like the sister I don’t have than a stranger. My face is rounder. Cuter. My skin looks so good, even if it is purple. In keeping with the theme, my eyes are now a deep amethyst, but with oval pupils like a cat.

“Great,” I mutter. “I’m now my very own violet-eyed Mary Sue.”

Leaning forward caused a very unfamiliar sensation on my chest, and I now understand why bras are a thing. I straighten back up. Honestly, now that I’ve had a minute to get used to things and have a chance to see myself in the mirror, my boobs aren’t quite as big as I first thought. They’re very much there, but not really in the way of anything. I guess I was just surprised by their presence before.

I’ve never been a small person, at least not post-puberty, and I’m not a small person now. In fact, I don’t think I’ve lost any height and the way my tee and button down shirt are fitting, my shoulders seem about the same, I just have a bust to match. I tend to buy my shirts on the loose side. I’ve been told I could wear a size smaller, but I just like the looser fit. My t-shirt no longer fits loosely, at least across my chest. Just for fun, I try to button my shirt across my boobs and it just doesn’t work. I giggle.

Huh. I didn’t know I was a giggler.

I’ve lost maybe a little bit in the waist, but it’s hard to tell. Still have the tummy, but it’s soft and kind of cute? And I have hips now! It’s hard to see the lower half of my body in the mirror, so I just start trying to wriggle out of my jeans, which are way too tight.

“Ow!” My jeans and belt are hung up on my butt somehow. I reach back around to try to ease my jeans down a little bit at a time. It’s a lot farther back around than it used to be. Baby got back. And a tail.

That’s the problem. My belt and waistband were scraping down my tail, which is sticking out where my jeans are completely split open thanks to my now-generous ass. I twist around and try to figure out how I completely missed the tail situation up till now. It’s a good four feet long at least and could easily touch the floor, although it seems to have a bit of a mind of its own, so it’s held up, slowly twitching. It’s the same soft lavender as the rest of my skin. It flares out like an arrowhead at the tip.

“I guess that’s consistent with everything else,” I say to no one in particular.

I pull my belt out of my jeans completely. After fishing my Swiss Army knife out of the pocket, I open it and gingerly reach around and saw through the rest of the waistband, which parts with a snap. That makes it a lot easier to slide my jeans off, and they start tugging my boxers down too, which had more give than the jeans, but are still the worse for wear.

Of course, then I realize that I should have taken my shoes off first. With no other options, I sit on the toilet and realize there’s a skill to sitting down when you’ve got a tail. After shifting around, I awkwardly get my sneakers off. I don’t know if I’m disappointed or relieved that there’s no hooves. Just feet. Although they are purple, so there’s that.

I finally get the jeans and boxers off and sitting down really emphasizes that there’s a lot more thigh than there used to be. Like, a lot more.

I’m not sure if I’m quite ready to think about what is or is not between those thighs. I feel like I should be freaking out a lot more about the whole situation, but aside from the initial confusion, I feel strangely calm with just a tinge of excitement.

Wait. Holy shit. No, a tinge of excitement doesn’t really describe it. There’s a very intense and confusing feeling in pit of my stomach. I think part of it is excitement. An hour ago, I was a boring normal dude worrying about money. Now I know that magic is real and I’m a hot demon babe! Talk about a major upgrade. But it’s not just excitement. Part of it is nerves because I have no idea what all this means for my life, but also I’m definitely going to need to think really hard about why I’m excited in the first place. Fuck.

I slip a hand down to the dark triangle at my between my thighs and then explore with my fingers. I’m met with the anatomy that I’ve been anticipating or dreading and also the unfamiliar sensation of experiencing my fingers in a whole new way and ohhhh, that’s good.

There’s a knock on the door. I guiltily pull my hand out of my crotch.

“Hey, it’s me,” says Sam. “Still working on the clothes, but I’ve got a towel here for you for now. Kinda got an eyeful earlier and it looks like your jeans are a lost cause.”

“Yeah, they’re done for,” I say in that voice. The door opens a crack and Sam’s hand passes me a beach towel with yellow ducks on it.

“Thanks. I’ll be out in a second,” I say. I figure the tee works for now, even if it’s not exactly modest. The whole world will know if I get chilly. I wrap the towel around my waist and tuck it into itself as securely as I can and head back out of the bathroom.

*****

Sam and Rob are waiting at the bar.

“That’s a couple different shocks to your system, I’d imagine,” says Sam, holding out another beer. I take it gratefully and sit down very carefully on a stool. There’s a learning curve, but maybe the tail isn’t that much to get used to.

“So is this permanent?” I ask Rob.

“Insofar as you now have access to your…hmm, I think it’s safe to say demonic power, yes. However, I assume you’re talking about your current form and the answer is a bit more complicated. Most individuals in your situation find it relatively easy to switch between their human and demonic or angelic form, however, at least in my experience, your, ah, personal dimorphism is on the more extreme end of the bell curve.”

I translate this in my head. “You’re saying most people like me don’t go from average dude to hot demon babe?” Rob nods. “Does it make a difference?”

“The thing about Rob is that the less sure he is about anything, the fancier the words get,” says Sam.

Rob grimaces. “That’s…not inaccurate. Honestly, I don’t know. However, particularly with those of a demonic nature, various levels of shapeshifting ability is common. In any event, glamours are in common use in the supernatural community and I can either teach you to perform one yourself or provide you with an enchanted item.”

“I guess in the short term, I’d like to try going back to my human form,” I say. “How do I do that?”

Rob has the grace to look embarrassed. “I have no idea.”

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“You turned me into this and now you’re just gonna tell me to figure it out?”

“Ah, correction: I didn’t turn you into anything. This is you. I just gave you a little nudge.”

“Okay, but I guess if you knew the spell to make this happen, I figured you’d have a bit more of a clue for what comes next.”

“It’s a very general spell. I still don’t know what kind of demon you are!”

“Hey,” interrupts Sam. “Don’t worry, kid. I made another call while you were in the bathroom and help is on the way. One of my employees might be able to give you some pointers. She’s on her way and is bringing some clothes. Drink your beer and relax. We’re getting into territory that’s outside of Rob’s experience—he’s only human.”

I take a deep breath. “Okay,” I say and take a sip of my beer.

My phone buzzes. I grab it off the bar where I left it and see that it’s a text from my roommate.

Hey dude. Just got home and thought you’d be here by now
Gonna order pizza u want some? Lemme know when you’ll be back

How am I going to handle this? I text him back.

Something came up and I’m not sure when I’ll get back

U ok?

Yeah, I’m fine just might not be back till late tonight or sometime tomorrow
Can you feed the cat plz?

Sure thing
Is this a good situation? Like a lady situation?

Kinda? I’ll tell you later k?

Is it a dude situation? U know I don’t care right?

It’s complicated and I’m kinda in the middle of it

Hey man love is love
There’s a they them at work and I don’t care if it makes me a lil gay to say their hot

You’re a true ally gotta go

“Problem?” Sam asks.

“Nah, just my roommate wondering where I am. I think he may now be working with the impression that I’m going home with a nonbinary person for romantic reasons. Not exactly what I was trying to communicate, but whatever.”

“I’m pretty sure I could set that up for you with one phone call,” says Sam.

“Maybe not tonight. Also, is there like a prohibition against texting in the supernatural community?”

“No, I just think texting is impersonal and it’s easy to lose nuance.”

“You’re what, Gen X?”

“I’m a hundred and three. I feel like I’ve adapted quite well. I can send texts, I just choose not to if I can avoid it.”

“It’s true,” interjects Rob. “I’m a Gen X’er and I give her a hard time about it. But when you’re older than the telephone, some allowances must be made.”

“Ignore him, please,” Sam says. “I’m not quite that old.”

“You’re really one hundred and three?” I ask. “How long do werewolves live?”

“Oh, now you believe I’m a werewolf? Even without me growing my hair at you?”

“I feel like a number my beliefs are due for a reevaluation.”

“Kid, you’re handling this remarkably well. And to answer your question, I don’t know that anyone’s really sure. We have a tendency to meet violent rather than natural ends.”

“Oh. Sorry if that was an insensitive question.”

“It’s fine. There’s a lot you don’t know yet and you’ll be spending a while catching up. But seriously, how are you so calm?”

I hold up my beer can. “The power of alcohol? I dunno. Like, it’s not an emergency and it is pretty cool. It’s a lot to take in, but freaking out isn’t going to help me get a handle on the situation.”

“So you’re okay with being a demon?”

“I mean, so far? I’d like to find out what that actually entails, but the tail is fun.” I try to point it at her and get close. It seems that fine control may still take a while.

“And the, er,”—Sam gestures vaguely at me—“other changes?”

“Surprisingly less disconcerting than I would have thought, but I don’t know that I’d want it to be permanent. I mean, who wouldn’t want to at least try it out?”

Sam shrugs. “I’m glad you don’t seem particularly scarred by the experience. I hope you won’t hold it against me; I admit I did get a little carried away. By the way, the job is yours if you want it.”

“I guess I’d rather know?” It’s my turn to shrug. “Also, I don’t think you ever said what the job was, although I assume it involves working here.”

Sam fills me in. She opened a bar for the supernatural crowd almost three decades ago. Since then, a lot of her clientele left the neighborhood (“Too many hipsters,” according to Sam) and moved closer to the downtown. So she leased the basement we’re in several months ago and hopes to be open for business in the new location in a few weeks. There’s still a lot of work to do and Sam is a little short-handed. Although she hasn’t lost any employees in the move, with a larger bar and expanding hours a bit, she needs more help.

“Besides,” Sam adds, “I’m hoping to lease the floor above us and open a coffeeshop. Not everyone wants the bar scene for various reasons. If things go well, maybe some day I can buy the whole building.”

“Is it okay if I give you an answer about the job in a day or two?” I ask.

“Of course! You’ve got a lot to think about.”

I nod and sip my beer. There are a lot of thoughts competing for attention in my head, including some that have been there for a long time and I am resolutely not thinking about right now. So I settle on something relatively innocuous.

“Does this mean the rest of my family are demons too?”

“Not necessarily,” Rob says. “It’s not like genetics and we just don’t have the data to make more than educated guesses about how and when it gets passed on. There are theories, of course. A colleague has a very intriguing idea that exposure to magical energy, such as might be found near ley line convergences, either in utero or as a child, influences whether angelic and demonic potential develops. The data at this point is more suggestive than definitive but it would explain so much, like—“

We’re saved from Rob’s explanation when the door bursts open and two laughing women stumble in.

“Ohmygod, you are such a dumbass!” shrieks the smaller newcomer as she punches her companion in the arm. “I’d’ve made you eat it!”

“That’s Mistress Dumbass to you and I’d like to see you try it!” The victim of the punch hip checks her assailant and they both join us at the bar.

“Ah, more informed help has arrived,” Sam declares.

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