Curse Of The Mummy free porn video

********************************************************** Here we go again! Popular culture has given me yet another inspiration for a story with a TG twist. Enjoy. I must thank Bashful and Paul1954 for helping me - I got stuck in the middle, and their suggestions were good. Please, please, please take a moment to add a comment. The feedback helps me choose story lines and improve my writing. ********************************************************* Curse of the Mummy -- 1924, Somewhere in Egypt -- The flickering light barely penetrated the inky darkness, the dancing flames on the torch struggling to cast some illumination into the seemingly endless stone corridors. Outside, it was night. But that didn't matter in here. The brightest sunshine could never have penetrated so far underground. Only the torches lit the way - three torches shared among the seven explorers. Onward they trekked, pausing occasionally when one man, older, scholarly looking, would pause to look at the walls of the corridor. And only when the torches brought their feeble circles of light close to the walls could one see the intricate carvings, the pictographs etched into the very blocks which made the walls. The professor, for that was the only thing he could be, suddenly gasped, then laughed aloud. "This is it!" he cried. The others quickly caught up to him. Three dark-skinned men of obvious Arabic ancestry stood back, watching warily. But the others crowded around, eager to peer over the professor's shoulders. "It's just like I said it would be," the professor chortled gleefully, wiping sweat from his brow. The professor's accent betrayed England as his home country. His portly constitution spoke less of an explorer than of a sedentary man, but here he was, and clearly in his own element. Balding, with a thin gray mustache, the professor looked less like an explorer than a charming and harmless grandfather. The only woman in the group peered closer, looking intently at the pictographs. Like the others, she was dressed in a khaki shirt and shorts, although hers fit much more loosely. Had she wanted to hide her figure, she couldn't have chosen a better outfit, even though her figure was relatively plain. That she was dressed as a man, on a man's expedition, was a measure of how much she seemed to reject her own femininity. But these clothes were chosen less for their camouflage than for being practical. Even this far underground, the searing desert heat was stifling, and the loose clothing breathed, doing wonders to cool her. Add a pair of boots to protect the feet from the hot sand and sharp rocks, and she was ideally dressed. The only thing missing was a hat - at least missing now. Her dark hair had started the day pulled back into a bun, but it showed the ravages of heat, sweat, and a hat. Wispy strands of hair hung down, circling her head in a mussed but surprisingly sexy manner. The woman frowned at the carvings. "What does it mean, Professor Archibald?" she asked, betraying her ignorance. In fact, it was obvious her place was as companion to one of the other men - a tall, muscular brown-haired man on whose shoulder she practically clung. From her lack of accent, one would guess, and correctly so, that she was an American. Which meant, through logical deduction, that the man she clung to was also probably an American. Professor Archibald turned, smiling, as if he only now was seeing her. "It's very simple, my dear Nicole," he said with a grin. "We are nearing the main burial chamber." "How can you be so sure, professor?" the third man asked, also in perfect King's English. A smaller man than the American, this man also seemed out of place - as if he should instead be in a library, not exploring these musty ruins. "These corridors wind around like a maze." In contrast to the professor's sloppy appearance, he was impeccably attired, in spite of the heat and dust. To all appearances, he could have as well stepped off a bus in London as been in this dark musty tomb. The professor looked surprised, then wrinkled his nose in disdain. "Ned, Ned, Ned. Have you learned nothing from me? Have I wasted all these years trying to bestow the wisdom of my experience on you?" He shook his head sadly, and Ned recoiled as if stung, but the reaction was more that of a person who is used to being criticized. "How about you, Grant? Can you make out what this says?" The American man, taller and huskier than Ned and the professor, leaned forward into the circle of torchlight, studying the pictographs. Where Ned was easily a nervous man, obsessed with appearances and being correct, this American was as obviously easy-going and self-assured. So well did he fit the stereotype of British class and propriety that Ned Cox could have been one of the Royal Air Force's `Brylcream Boys.' Not so Grant Evans. He would have been as out of place in British society as Ned would be in a saddle. Rugged. That was the proper word. A man's man. His finger reached out and delicately traced one of the dusty carvings. "This is the symbol for Pharaoh Rama Kafal, if I'm not mistaken," he said cautiously. The professor smiled. "Correct." The American traced more figures. "This warns of a great curse, an unspeakable indignity to anyone." Ned interrupted. "Any man. That's the symbol for a man." His chest swelled with pride at recognizing the error. Grant turned to Ned, then smiled. "Unspeakable indignity to any man who defiles the tomb." Nicole furrowed her brow. "I wonder why he saved his curse for men?" The professor leaned back a bit, smiling. "Miss Baker, in Kafal's time, women were barely recognized as people. Women were simply not worthy of a curse." Nicole Baker wrinkled her nose. "Hmphhh!" she exclaimed, giving voice to her feelings. Nicole, like so many of her fellow women, had only a few years ago won the vote, and given the ease with which she fit into this expedition, it was not hard to imagine that Nicole had been a part of the suffrage movement. She was a pioneer, a hardy woman, boldly trying new things, advancing the cause of women everywhere. So it was only natural that she was incensed by the curse's slap at womankind. One of the guides stepped forward into the circle of light. "Excuse me," he said in halting English. "What are you saying? Have you found the tomb?" His eyes were wide, like his fellow guides. The trembling in his voice betrayed that he was afraid. Or terrified. The professor heaved himself to his feet again. "We are nearer the tomb, Achmed." "But the curse!" Achmed cried. "What of a curse?" The professor rolled his eyes, clearly scornful of the so-called curse. "The writing says a curse will befall any man who violates the tomb. If you believe in voodoo and witchcraft and ancient curses!" His voice barely contained the contempt he held for the 'curse'. Another of the guides huddled near Achmed, and the two argued in heated Arabic. Achmed was obviously not convinced. With a swirl of his tunic, he turned and stomped back from whence they had come. The second guide threw up his hands. "You are a fool, Achmed!" he said in very stilted accent. "We will be rich! Rich, do you hear!" But his words echoed in the corridors, with no affect on Achmed. * * * * * * * * * * Onward the corridors went. Deeper and deeper into the rock, further from the outside heat. Unlike the later pharaohs, Kafal had his tomb literally carved into rock, hidden in the caves in what would someday be known as the "Valley of the Kings". The air grew more heavy, more stale, more musty. As if they were breathing ancient air, laden with its ancient dust. Only the fact that it was also cooler made the journey even possible. A shriek from the lead guide refocused everyone's attention. Grant was the first one to his torch, and he gasped. On the floor, reaching toward the entrance, a skeleton stretched its hands out, as if the owner had died trying to pull himself with his last breath. "Curious," Professor Archibald said with the same lack of emotion that he would have had discussing the afternoon cricket match. "The curse?" Nicole asked fearfully. "Is that what killed this poor man?" Ned was already stooped over, examining the skeleton. He looked up at Nicole suddenly. "Woman, you mean." He grabbed a torch and held it nearer the skeleton. "Look - this is a woman's skeleton. It's too small for a man. And look at the pelvis. This was clearly a woman." "Are you sure?" Grant asked, very skeptical. Ned nodded. "Oh, yes. I did study medicine, you know." The professor leaned over, peering at the white bones. "Well, at least she was immune to the curse, whatever it may be." He abruptly straightened and turned his way back to exploring the tomb, already dismissing the female skeleton. * * * * * * * * * * With a mighty heave, the stone door slid, a crack at first, then as the crack gave better handholds, the crack widened, until the huge stone suddenly slid to the side, exposing a rough-hewn stone arch. Ned glanced at the professor, then at Grant, then he thrust his lighted torch into the room. The room seemed to swallow the flickering light, giving no hint to its size or contents. Like a black hole. Ned glanced again at the professor, then stepped into the arch. "Oh, my God!" he exclaimed suddenly, sharply. Grant gave a worried glance at the professor, then he practically leaped through the arch. And stopped abruptly, standing beside Ned. The professor, Nicole, and the two nervous Egyptian guides walked into the room, and stood transfixed. The main burial chamber was both simpler than they expected, and more magnificent. Grant estimated it to be thirty feet by twenty feet, and the ceiling vaulted so high that the feeble torchlight made a guess impossible. The stone was rather plain, but polished smooth and with no hieroglyphics scarring its surface. Around the periphery of the room, stones fixed in the walls held dry torches, ready to light the way to eternity for the dead king. Stone ledges jutted from the walls, holding jars and pottery containers - food for the afterlife. Gold jewelry, treasures of the ancient kingdom, sat at the ready, waiting for the owner to wear them again. But it was the center of the room that held Grant's attention. On a simple raised stone dais the massive stone sarcophagus sat. Three meters long, half that in width, and nearly a meter in height, it was elegant in its simplicity. Only the name of the king appeared, carved forever into the massive stone coffin. "Let's get this open," the professor said impatiently, heaving his bulk up onto the dais. A few words of insistent Arabic, and he persuaded his guides to join him. With Ned and Grant, they set to the task of prying the lid off the sarcophagus. A mighty shove, and they heard and felt the stone lid sliding on the base, and this spurred them onward. Finally, the lid was half open, twisted on its perch. The professor took a torch and peered into the coffin. If the wealth of kings were measured in how they were treated in death, Kafal was a rich king. His coffin was overlaid with gold, worked into intricate designs depicting the gods of ancient Egypt. Color emblazoned the gold work, turning a beautiful work of craftsmanship into a magnificent work of art. "They weren't supposed to have developed enameling skills by Kafal's reign," Ned said softly, reverently. The professor merely gazed at the gorgeous coffin. "No, they weren't. But they did." He let his mind wander, imagining the day when Kafal was laid to rest in this tomb. Finally, he brought himself out of his reverie. "Ned, get the camera and start taking pictures. Nicole, if you would get your notebook and sketch and inventory the tomb." He was back to business. "Start with the burial masks - I want to get those out and safely stored." His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned near Grant and Ned. "No telling when the locals will pay a visit, eh?" Nicole stood looking at the jars on one shelf. "What are these?" she asked curiously. Grant turned from his study of the jewelry. "Those jars? Probably his internal organs." Nicole practically jumped back. "His internal organs? Like his heart and stuff?" Ned had overheard their exchange. "Oh, yes," he said casually. "A mummy's organs are always removed and preserved separately." Archibald called to them, interrupting the gruesome little dialog. "Let's get the coffin open. I want to see what condition the mummy is in." * * * * * * * * * * Delicately, the inner coffin opened, carefully so as not to accidentally damage the mummy within. And then the group was seeing, for the first time in thousands of years, Pharaoh Rama Kafal. Another elaborate burial mask covered his head and face, more intricate and beautiful than anything else in the room. His features were captured perfectly into the gold - Nicole shivered, feeling as if Kafal himself were staring at them. But it was an illusion. And at the same time, an icy breeze swept through the burial chamber while the earth rumbled, shaking some of the ancient dust from the stones. The Egyptian guides glanced about, terrified, looking for evil spirits. Below the mask, the body was very well preserved within the wrappings, decorated here and there with rings of enameled gold. The group stood, transfixed by the beauty of the dead king. Nicole's gasp, followed by a tiny giggle, snapped the reverie. Grant looked at her, wondering what she found funny, then he followed her gaze. To the mummy's crotch. "What the.?" He couldn't finish the thought, so bizarre it was. Ned, too, was looking at the mummy. "That's odd." His comment was typically understated English. "It appears that his penis has been severed." Archibald was also looking at the mummy. He moved around the great stone sarcophagus, still peering intently at the mummy. "And embalmed separately?" The others joined him, then Nicole chortled. Indeed, it appeared that the king's organ had been cut off, then separately mummified and set carefully between the king's legs. "Maybe they don't have any fun in the afterlife," she observed, fighting back a giggle. ********************** Grant hoisted his glass of brandy, lightly tapping the professor's glass, then Ned's, and finally Nicole's. "We did it," he said with his usual air of self-confidence. "We found the old bastard." The professor took a sip. "Yes, by George, we did, didn't we!" He took another sip, grinning. "I can't wait to see the look on the directors' faces when we get back! That should be a treat." Ned's head bobbled unsteadily. "What I don't understand," he began, "is why the curse isn't warning of a painful death? Why it singles out the men?" He took a big sip. "I mean, the other tombs have rather lengthy, and if I do say so, quite vivid descriptions of the deaths supposed to occur to interlopers." Grant looked at him, half smiling. Leave it to Ned to come up with something obscure like this. "Now that you mention it, the curse does seem a bit odd." The professor set down his empty glass, indicating with a wave that Nicole should refill it. It wasn't that he was sexist - she just happened to be closest to the bottle. "What you have to understand is the culture of Kafal. Women weren't deemed equal. In fact," he said softly, "women were treated as little more than property. Breeding stock. Servants. Slaves." He took the glass from Nicole. "Oh, thank you my dear." A quick sip, then he continued. "This was a very early dynasty." Nicole couldn't resist. "Things haven't changed that much," she said defiantly. "Not until very recently." The professor smiled. "Oh, that's where you are wrong, my dear. Being a woman in Kafal's time was, um, a fate worse than death. If a man wanted you, he'd buy you. Or slay your owner and take you. If he wanted children, you had them. If not, he could kill you. Adultery among men wasn't deemed wrong - in fact, it was a badge of honor. Among women, it was punishable by death." Nicole shuddered. "Sounds terrible." A woman's scream pierced the darkness, interrupting the conversation. Grant leaped to his feet, knocking over the bottle of brandy as he did so, and ran from the tent, followed closely by Ned, Nicole, and distantly by the professor. Another scream, from the tents of the guides. Outside one of the tents, Achmed was jabbering in frantic Arabic with the other guide and a couple of the locals recruited for their muscles. The professor tried again and again to interrupt Achmed, to find out what was wrong. But the men were not listening. Ned sidled up beside Grant and Nicole. "What's going on?" Grant asked softly. "Apparently, bin Saddim is missing," Ned replied. "The men saw him go into his tent, but now he's missing." Grant's brow furrowed. "Then what was that scream?" "And why did it sound like a woman's voice?" Nicole added. Ned held up a finger, silencing their questions as he tried to listen on more of the jabbering. "Not only is bin Saddim missing, but there is a woman in his tent." Ned's eyebrows raised. "Of course," he said, realization dawning on him. "The men are worried that Allah will curse them because bin Saddim is with a woman who is not his wife." Achmed finally went into the tent, and emerged dragging a woman by the arm. Her beauty caused an immediate silence, her figure a call for immediate attention. Very generous bosom. Small waist - maybe as much as twenty-two inches. Wide feminine hips and a very round toush. Long, sexy hair, even as unkempt as it was. Full sensuous lips. Big soft brown eyes. A package of feminine dynamite from head to toe. But she was anything but alluring. Panicked was a better descriptor. Achmed was trying to talk with her, but she kept screaming hysterically. But it was painfully clear that he was getting nowhere. In disgust, he turned to the professor. "Bin Saddim has tried to fool us," he spat. "He sneaks from camp and gets this woman into his tent. He tries to frighten us about curse, maybe so he can get all gold for himself?" He looked ready to slap the girl to silence her. "Or maybe he brings girl for pleasure? Allah will punish him for such deeds." Ned looked unconvinced but Achmed's speech. So did Grant and Nicole. Grant tilted his head near Ned's ear. "Why does she keep screaming bin Saddim's name? And why is she so distraught?" ************************ Like a mother hen, the professor stood on the docks next to the truck. The stevedores were simply not up to his expectations. No matter how much he prodded, cajoled, yelled, and begged, they were treating his cargo like, well, so much cargo! "How's it going, professor?" Grant asked pleasantly. As usual, Nicole was close by his side. The professor gave one more withering glance at the crane operator, then turned to the Americans. "These monkeys! They have no idea how valuable this cargo is!" He turned back to the crane. "Careful with that!" he screamed. He turned back to Grant. "By the way, have you seen Ned?" Grant shook his head. "Not since we got into town," he reported. The professor shook his head. "Undependable lout! It's just like him to be late, when we sail in just a few hours!" He glanced at the cargo crane again. "I'll not hold the boat for him," the professor announced. "If he misses the boat, it's his own blasted fault!" Grant offered his arm to Nicole. "Let's make sure our things are on board." He lifted his hat and wiped his brow. "I'll be glad to get back to London." Nicole smiled. "So will I. It may be foggy, it may be cool, but after this heat, that's fine with me!" She started walking with Grant, then her brow furrowed. "Are you worried about Ned?" she asked cautiously. Grant thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No. Why?" Nicole shook her head a bit. "I don't know. I just have a funny feeling. Like something has happened to him. You know, like bin Saddim and Abdullah. They just disappeared. And now Ned is missing." Grant stiffened at the thought, breaking his loping gait just enough for Nicole to notice. "I hadn't thought of that," he said slowly. "You aren't suggesting." "No, of course not," Nicole replied quickly. Then she bit her lip as she realized that she was indeed suggesting what Grant was accusing her of. "Well, it is kind of strange." Grant nodded as they turned up the gangplank. As they stepped onto the ship's deck, a steward greeted them. Grant fumbled in his pocket, then produced their tickets. Smiling, the steward wished them a pleasant voyage and allowed them onto the ship. Instead of going to their cabins, Grant strolled along the deck until he was near the cargo hoist. He leaned on the railing, watching as the final crates of relics from the mummy's tomb were stacked into a cargo net. The professor stood by the truck, sweating in the mid-afternoon heat, still screaming at the stevedores. For their part, the men ignored the professor, loading the crates into the cargo net almost carelessly. Finally, the truck was empty, and the crane began to lift the now-full net, swinging it over the water and then lowering it into the gaping maw of the forward hold. Nicole wrapped her arm around Grant's arm, leaning on the railing like him. "You seem lost in thought," she commented, following his gaze as he watched the cargo being loaded. Grant nodded slightly, his lips pursed tightly together, his jaw clenched. "Uh huh." He turned his gaze to Nicole. "Something about this doesn't feel right." He watched Nicole, saw her register surprise at his words. He nodded. "bin Saddim? He was a joker, a prankster. His disappearance could have just been a gag. But Abdullah?" Grant shook his head. "He seemed like a much more serious guy. Devoted family man. Very religious." Grant bit his lip. "That one doesn't sit right with me." He shook his head again, a puzzled look on his face. "And something Archibald said about the curse. I can't quite put my finger on it" Nicole gazed up at Grant, and realized that something was indeed odd if Grant were saying something about it. He was usually very stoic, very reserved about expressing his concerns. She felt a tremble of unease. "Hey!" Grant suddenly sang out. "It's Ned." He pointed down on the dock, by the professor. Nicole looked where he was pointing, and saw Ned running to catch up with Archibald, who was waddling toward the gangplank. Grant turned back to Nicole. "See what you did? You got me all worried over nothing!" He grinned, eliciting a smile from her in return. ********************* "You sure you won't join us?" Grant asked, standing in the door of Ned's cabin. Ned paused to look up from his book, then shook his head. "Sorry, old chap. I've had more than enough of that social hob- nobbing. I'd much rather catch up on my reading." Grant smiled. "Your loss." He closed Ned's door behind him, then offered his arm to Nicole. "Shall we go?" Nicole suddenly yawned widely. "I think Ned may have the right idea," she said apologetically. "I'm feeling kind of tired. Why don't you and the professor go enjoy being celebrities? I think I'd rather turn in for the night." Grant walked her to her cabin - just a couple of doors down from Ned's cabin. "You sure I can't change your mind?" Nicole smiled. "Enjoy yourself. I'm going to get some sleep." Grant gave her a quick kiss. "See you for breakfast then?" Nicole smiled and nodded, then closed her cabin door behind herself. The ship's smoking lounge was definitely not up to the standards of the Queen Mary, but then, this ship was no luxury liner. Old, tired, she was one of the many small liners which served the routes from England to the Mediterranean, carrying both cargo and passengers. At present, there were only a couple of hundred passengers aboard, mostly Britain's upper society returning from a holiday in Egypt. Grant spied the professor almost immediately; he was in the center of a group of gentlemen, all impeccably attired, all holding brandy snifters and cigars. Britain's wealthy upper class. Britain's male upper class. There were no women present. Grant started to stride across the lounge, and was intercepted immediately by a steward who offered him drinks. Grant accepted a brandy, then continued his course. One of the men recognized him. "Ah, Mr. Evans. How good you could join us. Professor Archibald was just regaling us with tales of your adventure." Grant smiled to himself. Who knew what embellishments the professor had made to the story? After all, it was mostly boring. Hot, dry, dusty, and boring. Not exactly tales of adventure. "Far be it from me to try to upstage such a noted and distinguished professor of antiquities," he said lightly, graciously deferring to the professor. The professor smiled at him, acknowledging the favor. "I hear that the king's tomb is cursed," one of the men said, a tone of amusement in his voice. Grant smiled, knowing that the professor had an opening for some type of hair-raising tale. ********************* On the way back to their cabins, Grant turned to the professor. "The steward said we'll pass Gibraltar this evening. That should put us in London in a couple of days." He took another step or two. "The tomb was cursed? Earthquakes, fire from the depths, signs in the skies?" He laughed. "Come on, Professor. I thought you didn't believe all that rubbish!" The professor smiled. "You really must understand that these chaps expect tales like this. I was only giving them what they wanted." A scream pierced the evening, startling Grant and the professor. With a quick glance at the professor, Grant broke into a run, down the corridor toward the source of the scream. It was Nicole's cabin. Grant knocked loudly, calling her name. She screamed again, and Grant backed up a step, then smashed into the door. Nicole stood on her bed, a terrified look on her face, her clothing and hair totally mussed. It took a second for her to recognize Grant, then she nearly leaped into his arms, sobbing hysterically as she did. "It tried to attack me," she wept. "What?" Grant asked, concerned for her safety. He was already glancing around the room, looking for anything that seemed out of place. "Something!" she cried again. "It smelled like the mummy's tomb!" She began wailing. "Grant, there is a curse! I know it! And it's after us!" Grant glanced over his shoulder at the professor, who gave him a knowing nod. The professor slipped from the room while Grant eased Nicole into a chair. "Okay, I'll check the room," he said reassuringly. Slowly, deliberately, he checked through the entire room, finding nothing, as he expected. "There's nothing here," he announced, trying to sound patient. Nicole was in no mood. "It was here!" she insisted. "I know it was here!" She was starting to get hysterical again. The professor came back into the cabin, followed by a ship's officer. "This is Doctor Edwards," he said calmly. "He's got something to help you calm down." Nicole looked fearfully at the doctor, who was holding a tablet in one hand, then at Grant. Grant nodded. Nicole slowly reached out and took the tablet, then took a glass from her bedstand and swallowed the pill. "You won't let anything happen to me?" she asked Grant, still sounding a bit nervous. Grant smiled. "Of course not." The doctor and the professor left, and Grant helped Nicole back into her bed. Whatever the doctor had given her was very fast-acting; Nicole was already looking very drowsy. Grant tucked her in, then gave her a kiss. "It'll be all right." ********************* Balancing a tray with one hand, Grant knocked on Nicole's cabin. There was no answer. He knocked again, but she still didn't answer. Frowning, Grant fumbled with the door, then let himself in. As he expected, the cabin was dark. He pulled open the curtains, letting a flood of sunlight in, then turned back to the bed. Nicole lay on her side, her back to him, still sleeping soundly. Grant smiled to himself. The tranquilizer had worked very well. He leaned over the bed and tapped her shoulder. "Nicole?" he called. "I've got some breakfast for you." She tossed, starting to waken. Then she rolled slowly toward his voice. Grant gasped. As she rolled, he saw large bulges moving under the covers. Large - no, huge - round bulges on her chest! But that was impossible! Nicole had small breasts. And her hair! Grant noticed something different. It looked longer? Yes, it was longer! No longer the short hair he'd become used to. Her locks curled behind her back, flowing around her shoulders in dark waves. Her lips were fuller, much more seductive and feminine. She reached up and rubbed her eyes, then pried them open as she sat up in bed. For a moment, she hovered between sleep and consciousness, then something jolted her fully awake. Nicole's hands bolted to the new weights bobbing on her chest, exploring with disbelief the huge breasts which had mysteriously appeared. She saw, from the corners of her eyes, the long dark hair cascading around her face. She did what any woman would do - she screamed. Grant tried to calm her, but he was as confused as she was. He sat on the edge of her bed and pulled her against his shoulder, hugging her tightly. Finally, her sobbing stopped. "What's happened to me?" she asked frantically. Grant shook his head. "I don't know. Do you remember last night?" Nicole stared at him for a second, then nodded. She fought to contain her fears. "Something tried to attack me," she said, fighting back the panic. "It smelled like the mummy's tomb. I remember screaming, and when you came in, it left. Then the doctor gave me something to sleep. And I woke up like this!" She gestured at her boobs, then started sobbing again. Grant held her tight again. After a few moments, the sobbing stopped. "And I had the strangest dream," she said cautiously. She waited for Grant to say something, but he didn't. "I dreamed that something was having sex with me." She started crying again. ********************* "How is she?" Professor Archibald asked as Grant slipped from Nicole's room. It had been a day and a half since her mysterious changes - a day and a half where the doctor had had to keep her sedated most of the time. Grant shook his head negatively. "I think she's starting to get over the shock. But I don't know about the changes." Archibald nodded his agreement. "Very odd," he said in a classic British understatement. "Every change is toward enhanced feminine characteristics." Grant nodded. "What does Ned's medical skills have to say?" The professor stopped. "You know, that's odd." "What?" "I don't remember seeing Ned today. In fact, I haven't seen him since last evening!" A puzzled look flickered across Grant's features, then it was replaced with concern and panic. "Come on," he called as he dashed to Ned's cabin. There was no answer to the knocking. Or to the professor calling Ned's name. Grant was about to shoulder his way through the door when a purser came by. Quickly, the professor talked him into opening Ned's cabin. The cabin was empty. The purser tried to herd them out of Ned's cabin. "Look," he said without apology. "I've got my job to do. I've got to check on the stowaway." The professor and Grant exchanged a fearful glance. "Stowaway?" Grant asked uneasily. The purser nodded. "We found her on D-deck. Near the main hold. Screamin' and carryin' on so. Quite a looker, too!" He winked knowingly. "She was babbling somethin' about a mummy and a curse, and rantin' like she was daft. We had to take her into custody." He smiled. "If you ask me, she was all out of sorts because someone didn't pay her, if you know what I mean!" He gave another knowing wink. The two men walked purposefully back to Nicole's cabin. It was fortunate that she wasn't sedated now. They sat down, looking grim. "Tell me about the attack," Grant insisted. Nicole looked at him, puzzled, then at the professor. Finally, she nodded weakly. "It was something from the mummy. I know it was. I remember the smell - that dank, musty smell!" The professor nodded. "How did it attack you?" Nicole looked down quickly, blushing. "I was lying on bed, reading, when I felt something touch my ankle. I tried to move, but my leg was numb!" She looked up at Grant, her eyes pleading for understanding. "It started moving up my leg." "Toward your ... crotch?" the professor asked bluntly. Nicole nodded, looking down again. "Then what?" Grant asked, trying to sound gentle. He could see the pain and humiliation in Nicole's eyes, hear it in her voice. "Then I screamed!" she said. "And when you opened the door, it vanished!" She looked back at Grant, her eyes pleading. "Is it somehow connected to how bin Saddim and Abdullah disappeared? With these other changes, you don't suppose...?" Professor Archibald snorted. "It can't be. Magical curses don't exist!" he spat. "There is a logical explanation." He looked at Grant, who was waiting for such an explanation. So was Nicole. "Look," he finally said defensively. "Let's go to the hold. I'll prove that there's nothing to this notion of a mummy's curse!" The purser was not thrilled when he learned that the cargo they were going to examine was the supposedly cursed mummy. Still, it was his job. He stood nervously near the door of the cargo bay, not wanting to be any nearer the mummy than he absolutely had to be. Grant looked carefully at the shipping crate. There appeared to be no signs of tampering. Still. He used the crowbar and levered the lid off. The professor peered inside, looking triumphant. "There," he said smugly. "Just as I told you." Grant and Nicole weren't convinced. Carefully, Grant reached inside and lifted the lid of the sarcophagus. Cautiously, they shone the flashlight inside. And Nicole screamed. The professor babbled, then his face reddened. "Purser!" he screamed angrily. "This ship must be searched! Someone has stolen part of my mummy!" Nicole looked at Grant, her eyes wide with fear. She didn't believe the professor's tale that it was stolen. And from the look in Grant's eyes, neither did he. ********** London ********** The party at the museum was a private affair - the museum trustees and directors, the professor, and Grant and Nicole. Much to their dismay, Ned was still missing. A hand slap on Grant's back almost startling him. "Quite a find, old man," the gentleman said enthusiastically. "Absolutely remarkable! Probably the most complete tomb unearthed! And we have you and the professor to thank for it!" The man gushed enthusiastically, making Grant feel a bit embarrassed. "Nothing special," he said modestly. But the expedition backers would have none of it. He was a bona-fide hero, and was expected to live up to the role. It was a role he was uncomfortable with. And Nicole didn't help - she was dressed in a very feminine gown, showing off her very generous bosom and tiny waist, with her hair up in a sophisticated style. Grant had asked her about her choices, knowing how she felt about a woman's role. But she just smiled and got all dolled up for the party. And she seemed to be enjoying socializing with the women, ignorant of the fact that her role in the expedition was completely overlooked. Finally, none too soon for Grant, the party ended. Now he could go back to the hotel and get out of these fancy clothes. "We're taking tomorrow off," he called over his shoulder to the professor. "Nicole wants to do some sightseeing." The professor merely nodded. "If you must," he said grudgingly. "Such a lack of commitment. Leaving all the work to me," he muttered under his breath as he opened the door to the warehouse which stored all the artifacts. Cataloging and photographing them was a very important task, and he wasn't about to let that job get botched. He reached out and flipped on the light, eager to get to work. And he felt something touch his leg. His leg went numb. ********************* Early the next morning, Grant and Nicole pried open the door to the warehouse. "Professor," Grant called. There was no answer. Grant shrugged. "Probably sleeping in." Nicole felt the hairs on the back of her neck tingling. "Something's wrong," she said instinctively. Then she saw the lights. "Look, the lights are still on." Grant immediately went to a defensive mode. "Something may have happened to him. Professor!" he called again. The answer was not what Grant and Nicole expected. A woman's scream sounded from inside the warehouse. Grant broke into a run, heading toward the sound of the scream. He rounded a corner, and froze. So suddenly did he stop that Nicole ran into his back, then she too looked and was transfixed. "Professor," she said knowingly. On the floor, between two large shelves full of crates, a young woman sat, cupping her breasts and staring wide-eyed at them. She glanced up, and screamed again. Nicole stooped beside the woman, helping her to her feet. The woman seemed to recognize them, but her eyes were glazed, shocked at what had happened to her. Nicole helped the woman to a stool. "What happened?" Nicole asked, already knowing and fearing the answer. The woman looked at Nicole, recognition slowly clearing the haze of confusion. "It attacked me!" she said softly. "Just like me," Nicole surmised. The woman's eyes widened, then she nodded. "Just like you." "Just like bin Saddim and Abdullah. And probably like Ned," Nicole said with dread certainty. "Right, professor?" The woman looked wide-eyed at Nicole, then nodded slowly, her eyes half-closed, looking sad. "Yes." She sighed heavily. "I'm Professor Archibald." Nicole turned to Grant. "You've got to get out of here. Now!" Grant looked dazed. "Don't you see?" She grasped his arms, trying to get her point across. "You're the only one left!" The professor nodded. "It's the curse," she said with certainty. "Remember the curse? Violators would suffer the greatest indignity known to man." She waited for Grant to understand. "Death was not a curse! It was a passage to the afterlife. To Kafal, being forced to live as a woman would have been the ultimate humiliation! And that was his curse!" Grant suddenly realized the danger he was in. Urged on by Nicole and the professor, he turned. But his leg wouldn't move. He looked down in horror, and saw something touching his foot. Grant screamed. Nicole looked, and saw the mummified dick touching Grant's leg, slowly inching itself upward. She leaped to his side, grasping at the undead organ. As she reached to grab it, to dislodge it, a shock threw her across the room. Grant reached down, grasping at the dick, trying to fight it. "Help!" he cried, knowing his ultimate fate if he couldn't stop it. "Help me!" He grabbed the dick, but couldn't stop it! "It's too strong!" he cried again. Nicole shook her head, clearing the cobwebs. "Professor! The mummy!" she called. The professor looked at her, then at the dick crawling up Grant's leg. He was torn, not knowing what to do. "Professor, he's almost out of time!" The professor suddenly realized what he had to do. He reached into his pants and pulled out his Zippo lighter, then sprinted to the mummy's sarcophagus. He struggled to open the coffin, but his new body was too weak. "Help me," he cried to Nicole. She looked with horror at the thing crawling up Grant's leg, then raced to the coffin. Frantically, the two women pried and lifted, and suddenly the coffin lid stirred, then flipped open. The professor flipped the lighter, producing a spark, then a flame. He turned toward the dick, holding the flaming lighter above the mummified remains. "Stop right now, or I'll destroy the corpse!" As Nicole watched in fascination, the mummy's organ dropped from Grant's crotch. "It's working!" she shouted triumphantly. She continued to watch as the thing hit the floor, and with a quiet rustling sound, vanished beneath a stack of crates. She rushed to Grant. "Are you okay?" Grant shuddered. He looked rather pale. "I think so." He glanced nervously at where the dick had vanished. "Let's get out of here. Before that thing changes its mind." He took a step toward the door, then he wobbled and fell heavily to the ground, unconscious. Nicole dropped beside him. His breathing was regular, but shallow, and she felt some relief that he seemed only to have fainted. "Come on, Professor. Let's get him out of here." The two women hoisted Grant between them, and glancing nervously behind them, dragged him from the warehouse to the street. Nicole helped prop Grant on a bench, then stepped to the street. In no time, a cab stopped at the curb, attracted no doubt by her generous curves and feminine wiles. The cabbie raised an eyebrow at the Professor's obvious feminine charms hidden beneath a rumpled man's suit, but he didn't say anything. And at Nicole's seductively spoken suggestion, he was only too happy to help load the unconscious Grant into the cab. *************** The Professor watched as Nicole checked Grant yet again, anxious about his health. Finally, she sat back and stared at the Professor. After several awkward moments, he couldn't contain his curiousity. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Nicole bit her lip. "I don't understand." The Professor furrowed his brow. "You don't understand what?" "You. You were attacked. Changed. And more than I was." She wrinkled her nose. "But you don't seem to care." The Professor stared at her for a moment, then shrugged. "I guess I hadn't really thought of it," he answered. "Come to think of it, I guess it really doesn't matter to me." Nicole was shocked. "Doesn't matter? That yesterday you were a respected professor, and today you look like a twenty-year-old over-sexed woman?" She hesitated a second. "Did you change, you know, completely?" The Professor laughed. "Yes, my dear. In every way that matters." "And that doesn't matter?" He smiled again, a sad, resigned smile. "I've had a full life. I fought in the Boer war, you know. I lost two sons in the Great War, and my wife after that. I think losing her boys broke her heart, and she couldn't go on. I've lost a lot of friends and colleagues over the years. I guess I've seen a lot of life, and a lot of death. Perhaps too much. I suppose I was resigned to retiring and dying, which seemed to be all that life had left for me. And now," he opened his arms as if displaying his new body, glancing down at the strange new shapes, "I have another chance." Nicole frowned again. "But you're a ..." "A woman?" The Professor smiled. "I guess I am. But surely youth as a woman is far preferable to death as an old man." ******************** Nicole and the Professor sat quietly, watching Grant as he fidgeted in the chair. "Are you okay?" she asked, for at least the twentieth time. Grant frowned. "Yes, dammit!" Since he'd regained consciousness, he seemed uneasy and nervous. But he wasn't talking about it. Nicole turned to the Professor. "What do we do?" she asked simply. The Professor shook his head, startling herself when his new long brown locks of hair swirled in front of his face. Wincing, he brushed the hair out of his eyes. "I don't know," he said. He - she - was sitting in the chair like a man, his legs splayed apart, slouching back against the cushion. No matter what his current body looked like, he was still a man inside, and his old mannerisms were definitely present. Grant rose abruptly. "I'm going to the can." Nicole watched him walk toward the bathroom, and felt uneasy. Something wasn't quite right. Was it her imagination, or did his hips seem wider and his butt rounder? Or was it that his waist was narrower? Maybe both? But that was impossible, wasn't it? She glanced a the Professor, and shivered. No, it wasn't. She watched him as he closed the door, and knew that she hadn't seen things. The change had been started. She felt a chill run down her spine. "So how do we reverse this curse?" she asked finally. The Professor shook his head again. "I don't know," he said weakly. He gave a derisive snort. "Up until last night, I didn't even believe in curses, remember?" A scream from the bathroom interrupted them. Nicole raced in. Grant stood in front of the toilet, his pants around his ankles, staring down toward his crotch. His face was ashen and his eyes wide. Nicole's heart raced as she recognized the look in his eyes - fear. She followed his gaze down even as he turned toward her. Nicole gasped in shock, raising her hand in front of her, as if to stop the scream which should have come. Grant was - changed. She hadn't imagined it - his ass was rounder. Rounder, wider, and more feminine. Gone was the firm muscular rear she had been so familiar with. And his waist! It was narrower. Not by much, but it was definitely narrower. But that wasn't what had surprised her. Grant's manhood was smaller. Much smaller. Like a child, Nicole realized. Beneath it, his scrotum was shriveled, as if the skin had suddenly contracted around shrunken testicles. She could barely see any roundness in the withered scrotum; he still had testicles, but not much. "Oh, God!" Nicole glanced at Grant, and saw the horror on his face. His entire manhood was but a tiny shadow of its former glory, shriveled and changed by his brief contact with the mummified penis. Nicole bent forward to get a better look. "Professor!" she called. She looked closer, and saw two slight ridges of skin, one on either side of the remains of Grant's dick. The beginnings of vaginal lips. The start of female genitalia. She glanced up at Grant. From his expression, he'd seen it all. He knew. Archibald nudged Nicole aside, and gasped. "Great gods!" He looked more closely. "It's started changing you." He glanced up at Nicole. "I'll call a doctor," he said even as he started to rise. "No!" Grant's tone stopped him. "No, you can't call a doctor." "But Grant..." Grant glared at Nicole. "You can't call a doctor!" He gestured toward his crotch. "What will you tell them? That a mummy did this to me? That it's a curse? Hmmph!" Nicole glanced at the Professor, her features clouded with concern. Grant seemed to be losing it. "No doctor will believe a tale about a curse or a mummy's dick!" Even as Grant said it, Nicole knew he was right. Grant continued. "They'll think I'm a freak, some kind of weird sideshow attraction!" Nicole's eyes met Grant's, and she saw the pleading look in them. He was desperate - desperate to avoid becoming a caged animal for the doctors to study. And she knew he was right. Grant lifted his gaze to the Professor. "There has to be a way to undo this," he said. "There just has to be a way." The Professor saw the desperation, the urgency in Grant's eyes. "I don't know what we can do," he answered. "I don't know." "But we have to try!" Grant was almost begging now. He knew what he was - partly man and partly woman, completely neither. His only chance was to find a way to reverse the mummy's curse. The Professor closed his eyes, then nodded. "Okay," he said softly. "We'll try the library first thing in the morning." ******************** Nicole was sleeping fitfully; after all, something had changed her, had changed the Professor, and had started changing Grant. And it was still out there. She turned, trying to settle her imagination. As she forced herself to lie still, Nicole thought she heard something. A soft rustling, like something being dragged across a rug. And then her nose detected the faint musty smell, that familiar odor from the mummy's tomb. She bolted upright in bed, reaching out to shake Grant. "Grant! Wake up!" Slowly, his eyes opened. "What is it?" Nicole fumbled for the lightswitch. "It's here! It's come back!" Grant was sitting upright, too, shielding his eyes as the sudden brightness flooded the room. "Are you sure?" Nicole glanced around the room, desperately searching for whatever had made the sound. "Don't you smell it?" The Professor rubbed his eyes as he tried to sit up. He'd decided to rest on the sofa, since he couldn't very well go back to his house looking like he did. "What is it?" Nicole didn't even glance at him. "Professor, get Grant out of here! It's here! Somewhere!" The alarm in her voice was unmistakable. "Get him out of here! I'll grab some clothes and meet you ... uh ... in the lobby!" The Professor was suddenly awake. He grabbed Grant's arm, and the two fled, both barefoot, and Grant wearing only his pajamas. ******************** Nicole glanced up from the book, watching Grant. In the past few days, they'd had countless run-ins with the mummy, and the stress was taking its toll. They were always on edge, wondering when and where it would show up again. And they were tired. But Nicole wasn't glancing at how fatigued Grant was. She saw instead a man who was nearly ready to give up. He'd become more angry, she realized, but he kept it inside. The anger wasn't directed at her, thought. It was anger at what had been done to him, at how much he'd already lost. Now, though, even the anger was vanishing. In its place was - nothing. No hopelessness, no frustration, no nervousness. Nicole bit her lip as she realized that Grant was giving up. The Professor was doing remarkably well, on the other hand. He'd easily adapted to wearing some of Nicole's clothes and acting feminine. She glanced at him, just as he shut the old book with a sigh. "Find anything?" she asked. The Professor sighed again. "There's precious little written about Egyptian mysticism." He shook his pretty head. "I can't find anything." "So we're stuck," Grant whispered, his voice betraying his resignation. Nicole glance at him, then bit her lip again. "No. We just haven't found the answer yet." The Professor started to say something, then stopped abruptly, his pert little nose sniffing. "It's here," he whispered. Nicole leaped to her feet and grabbed Grant's arm. "Let's get out of here." Again. It was hunting them, she realized. Hunting Grant. Quickly, the trio fled the library into the sunny street. "Where to now?" Nicole finally asked. The Professor looked dazed. "I don't know." "The warehouse," Grant said firmly. Nicole and the Professor looked at him strangely. "That's where this started. That's where it's going to end." The Professor looked confused, but Nicole got a sudden insight. "The mummy." She grasped the Professor's arm. "What'll happen if we destroy the mummy? That just might end the curse!" The Professor's mouth dropped open. "But you can't destroy the mummy! It's too valuable!" Grant grasped his arm firmly, almost painfully. "I can't stay like this. I won't stay like this. If the only way to end the curse is to destroy the mummy, then that's what we're going to do." His voice was firm as iron. "That thing is going to find me sooner or later. And you know we can't stop it." ******************** In the warehouse, the Professor was confused to find the sarcophagus closed again. "We left the lid open, didn't we?" he asked. Nicole nodded. "I think so." She stepped to the stone coffin and grasped the edge of the lid. "Come on, let's get it open." She and the Professor began to shove the lid. They were rewarded with the harsh sound of stone grating on stone as the lid slowly slid open. "Help me!" Grant's sudden cry startled them. Nicole spun, and saw the mummy's dick attached like a limpet to Grant's foot, it's magic immobilizing him as it inched slowly up his leg toward his crotch. She turned back frantically to the professor. "Hurry, professor! We have to finish it." The Professor looked at Nicole, her new eyes soft and sad. "I know," she said. "I know." She looked down at the floor, then pulled out her lighter and flicked it, bringing the flame to life. Nicole steeled herself, knowing that she might have to force the issue in case the professor couldn't do it herself. Then she heard some rustling behind her. She turned and looked. The mummy's dick was at Grant's crotch, and a mystical blue glow seemed to be emanating from his body. She knew that changes were already happening, changes which drove Grant further from his masculinity, changes which might or might not be reversed when they destroyed the corpse. "Stop!" she cried, and the dick seemed to quit moving. Still, more of its accursed magic had been worked on Grant, but how much, no one knew. Nicole looked at Grant's eyes. They were misting as he fought emotions to which he was unaccustomed, in a situation he never could have imagined. He looked down, at the mummy's dick which was pressed against his crotch, seeming to burrow through the fabric of his pants. Finally, he looked up at Nicole. "No," he said simply and softly. The Professor turned, the still flaming lighter in her hand. "What?" she asked, confused. Grant had a sad, lost look on his face, and his eyes were pleading. Nicole felt a twinge of terror - for the first time, Grant appeared and sounded helpless. Not the strong, resolute Grant she had know. A tiny, timid, scared, helpless Grant. Nicole froze. "Grant, we have to destroy it!" she said insistently. "No, please no!" Grant cried. Cried. Again Nicole shuddered. He was practically begging. "Look at me. Look at me!" he demanded, sounding firm even though his voice trembled. Nicole saw tears in his eyes. "Grant," she began. "Don't you see?" Grant demanded. "I'm a freak! I'm not a man anymore!" The tears were flowing more freely now. "I can't live like this!" He looked through his tear-stained eyes at the professor. "Professor, you tell her!" Nicole looked at Archibald. The Professor snapped the lighter shut, killing the flames. She looked sadly at Grant, then at Nicole. "He's right, you know," she said very softly. "We can't do this to him." Grant's eyes were pleading with Nicole. "Please, don't leave me a freak." Nicole looked at Grant again. At his sexless crotch. At his slightly widened hips. At his rounder derriere. At his slightly narrowed waist. He wasn't a man anymore. But neither was he a woman. She looked back into his eyes, then she dropped her gaze. "All right," she finally said softly. Grant looked at the mummified penis on his leg, tears flowing down his cheeks. "All right, dammit!" he sobbed. "Finish it!" His voice was getting angry. "Finish your damned curse! Finish me!" Grant looked down, and saw the dick. He shuddered, knowing what was about to happen to him, knowing the changes this curse would bring to his body. Grant stifled a gasp of surprise. He was helpless, unable to stop the progression of the curse, unable to move, unable to stop it from continuing its ascent. Slowly, it inched forward. And it touched his crotch again. A searing pain erupted within Grant's groin, a pain of having his body rearranged. He opened his mouth to scream, but found himself unable to, frozen by the mummy's mysterious paralyzing power. Nicole and the professor stood transfixed, watching the mummy's dick. Slowly, it started to work through the clothing, then Grants pants and underwear dropped from his much-narrowed waist, exposing his nearly sexless crotch. Nicole couldn't take her eyes from the disembodied member. Slowly, inexorably, it slid into Grant. And as it did, the skin began to shift, rearranging itself into vaginal lips. Nicole knew that inside, Grant's organs were changing, that a vagina and uterus were forming, that his testicles were changing into ovaries. The dick was nearly buried within Grant's crotch, but still he tried to scream. His hips began to shift, widening slightly, as his ass rounded into a much more feminine form. The changes spread, outlined by a faint blue glow creeping across his skin. His waist began to contract. His ribcage began to narrow, accompanied by the sound of bones crunching. The glow slid downward, encompassing his legs. More crunching as his legs began to get more slender, more feminine, and shorter. The skin softened visibly, and the hairs began to vanish. The glow reached his feet, and these too began to shrink, losing their large masculine stature, rearranging themselves into dainty woman's feet. On his chest, the glow spread upward, ever upward. Grant's nipples began to inflate, slowly, into little cones. Then the cones were pushed outward as the tissues were rearranged. Still the breasts grew beneath his shirt, the nipples getting larger and darker, while the breasts beneath them rounded, pushing still further out on Grant's chest. If his chest hadn't shrunk, the buttons would have burst by now; as it was, the shrinking of his chest to more feminine proportions was more than outdone by the growth of his breasts. A-cup. B-cup. C-cup. Onward they grew. D-cup. Still they grew, and Nicole knew from her own changes that they might stop at a DD-cup. They strained against the fabric, trying to pull the buttons apart. As the blue glow spread upward, Grant's Adam's apple contracted, vanishing into his neck even as his entire neck began to shrink. His shoulders grew narrower as the glow spread down his arms; muscles lost their definition as his arms grew shorter and more slender. His hands, rough man's hands, softened, smoothed, and became delicate. A woman's hands. The glow spread upward over his face. The rugged chin softened, the crooked broken nose softened, smoothed, and got smaller, turning upward ever so slightly. His lips pursed outward, filling into more sensuous female lips. His eyes softened, widened, and metamorphosed from hazel to brown. Grant felt his scalp tingle as the glow continued to spread, and then he felt the hair cascading down from his head. Thick, luxurious, brown hair. Wavy, soft, feminine hair. Down and down it went, until it brushed against his shirt at the small of his back. Still the tingling and changes continued. He felt his cheekbones cracking; Nicole saw his cheeks shift upward, to a much more feminine shape. She saw his skin soften, losing the leathery masculine look even as it became soft and supple. And then Grant felt the mummy's dick withdrawing, sliding out of his new pussy and down his leg. The blue glow vanished, leaving him utterly and totally female. He finally screamed even as he knew that he'd done the only thing he could have done, that he could never have lived as a sexless freak, but that he was now totally, completely a woman. ******** The Next Week ******** Grant paced nervously on the steps of the museum. Nicole noted how he looked; completely female, even though his walk was all wrong. With time, she'd help him fix that. She'd dressed him very conservatively; a dress with a high neckline and a long skirt to conceal as much of his feminine charms as possible. It had been a week since the transformation, and while he was making progress, it was still overwhelming at times. Nicole thought it best to err on the side of caution. The door opened, and Professor Archibald stepped out, attired in a very nice woman's outfit. He - she - was fitting in much better than Grant; Nicole knew that Archibald was more pleased about regaining his youth and losing many pounds than he was about losing his masculinity. And his career? They would know the answer soon enough. Grant wheeled in a most unladylike manner and stomped to Archibald. "Well?" he said in his new softer higher voice. Archibald smiled. "It was a good meeting. I'll tell you about it on the way." He - she - seemed unusually cheerful for a man who'd recently been changed into a voluptuous young woman. Nicole frowned. "On the way where?" Archibald strode easily down to the street, then hailed a cab. "On the way to my house, of course!" Within seconds, a cab pulled to the curb and the three ladies climbed in. "Where to, miss?" the cabbie asked, glancing over his shoulder at the three very attractive young ladies. Nicole saw his eyes widen in appreciation of their charms. Archibald didn't even notice. She handed him a slip of paper, then sat back in the seat. The cabbie's eyes widened. "Oh, yes miss!" he called, sounding impressed. "Right away!" "Well?" Nicole finally demanded, unable to contain her curiousity any longer. Archibald smiled. "It was a good meeting." She glanced at Nicole and Grant. "Old Burns was pretty skeptical, though. At first. But I reminded him of a few things we shared as ..." Archibald thought of his choice of words, "in our younger days. Things that only he and I knew about." Grant was curious. "That convinced him?" Archibald smiled again. "That and the society handshake. He knew I couldn't possibly be making up the story then." Nicole was curious again. "So now what?" Archibald smiled. "He talked to a judge we both know. Essentially, the family estate and assets have been transferred to my name - Margaret Archibald." He turned to Nicole. "Margaret was my grandmother's name, you know," he said casually. "Anyway, I'm done as director of the museum. For obvious reasons." He cupped his generous breasts as he laughed, emphasizing his point. "But with the estate and assets, I've got more than enough to retire." Grant nodded, then frowned. "But what about me? What about us?" Nicole nodded her agreement. Grant's life was ruined, and Nicole's former adventures would be seriously constrained by her new body. Her new figure was less suited for adventure, except of the amorous kind. Margaret Archibald smiled. "Why, you two are moving in with me, of course!" she said cheerfully. "It's the least I can do." Nicole gave Margaret a quick kiss on her cheek. "Oh, Margaret, that sounds wonderful!" She turned to Grant. "Don't you think so?" Grant shrugged, unconvinced. "I guess so." He seemed the most affected by his change. Shock, depression, loss. All of those emotions - and more. Nicole smiled at Grant. "Trust me. You've got a lot to learn, and this will give you all the time you need to adjust." "And then what?" Grant asked skeptically. Nicole smiled. "Then we can go on adventures." She watched the shock creep across Grant's feminine features. "Oh, not like those! Holidays, travels. Dating." Grant's mouth dropped open in shock. "Yes, dear. Dating. After all, you are a single young woman, and there are many eligible men out there." Grant lowered his head into his hands, shaking his head ever so slightly. Nicole laughed. Yes, he had a lot to learn. She abruptly remembered something, and turned to Archibald. "Did you find out anything about Ned Cox?" Archibald frowned. "I'm afraid not. We are pretty certain that he was changed, too. When he was discovered, the chief purser thought he was a stowaway and a hooker. They put him - her - off the ship in Southhampton." Margaret shook her head sadly. "I asked Burns to keep looking, but I'm not sure if we'll ever find him - er, her - er, Ned." Nicole nodded sadly. "We have to keep trying. He's all alone, changed, with no money, no friends, no identity. We have to find him." Margaret Archibald nodded her agreement. Then she turned to Grant. "By the way, our friend the judge can fix things for you. You know, new name and so forth. Have you given any thought to that?" Grant paused, then looked out the window. For a long few moments, he watched the brick buildings flow past. Then he turned to Archibald. "I've always liked th