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This is an open-ended story, my Halloween gift to the TG World. The "House of Mystic Mirrors" is open for anyone to write and post a story about. The mechanics are as described in the four vignettes below. The magic of the maze makes it seem as if only one person - or group - is there at a time. Others kind of wait in a limbo, I think. The Barker is an ever-changing manifestation of the magic in the maze. The force that controls the change has a sense of justice - and a sense of humor. Have fun with it, and PLEASE don't try to explain how it works. One last thing. The four little tales that make up this story may be posted to any free site. The usual suspects have explicit permission. Since it's my court and ball, I hope that others will agree to such posting to free sites as well. Ellie ***** Mirror Site By Ellie Dauber Copyright 2000 Brad, "Boomer", Harris was probably the first one in town to see it. Already 6 foot 4 at the age of 16, "Boomer" was undisputed master of the football field, and of the rest of the life at Atcheson High School. One of the prizes he claimed was to ride "shotgun" on the bus to and from school, sitting directly across from the driver with whatever babe he chose to join him that day. No girl refused him. He was "Boomer", captain of the football team, most popular boy in school, and the one who would beat their current boyfriends senseless if they refused his gracious offer. "Boomer" happened to be looking out the window as the bus passed what had been the vacant corner lot at Diamond and 6th Streets. In the middle of the tent was a large green circus tent, a yellow banner floating high above the center pole. Signs facing both streets announced that it was the "Hall of Mystic Mirrors" in large green letters. Smaller letters underneath invited to "Be Amazed - Be Amused; See What Lies Without _and_ Within; $1 Admission." And said that the tent would only be there "Through Halloween." "Whoa! Look at that," "Boomer" said, lifting his arm off of Mary Elizabeth Reede's shoulder to point as the bus pass. Most of the kids looked, and a number of them made plans to check the tent out after school. The tent had plans for some of them as well. Mary Elizabeth used the moment to move just far enough away that "Boomer" wouldn't quite be able to get his arm back around her before they got to the school. 'With any luck, I can get a later bus today,' she thought to herself. "Boomer" seldom picked the same girl more than one day in a row. He thought it was fairer to give them all a chance. A few minutes later, the bus pulled into the parking lot at Atcheson. The 30 kids who piled out spread the word. By second lunch period, just about all of the students at the school knew about the "House of Mystic Mirrors." So did nearly half of the faculty and other staff. The tent was waiting for some of them, as well. ***** Officer Jack Bergstrom was the first one to actually go into the tent. He was making a routine patrol of the neighborhood. He pulled over about a half block away and checked his sheet from the morning briefing. There was no mention of any carnival or amusement ride being set up. That meant that there was probably no permit. Sometimes it just happened. Sometimes it was deliberate. He drove over and parked his squad car at the point of the curb nearest the tent. Twelve years on the force had taught him to be friendly but careful. He didn't want to bother some poor guy trying to make an honest buck. He didn't want to get shot at either. He got out and walked casually -- but cautiously towards the tent. "Anybody here," he called, trying to sound friendly. "Yes, may I -- oh, good morning, officer." A thin man with graying hair, in his late fifties from the look of him, came out of the tent, being careful not to show what was inside. He was about average height, dressed in pants the same color as the tent, a white shirt, and a green and yellow striped vest. "Can I help you with something?" "May I see your permit and papers, sir," Bergstrom said. "It's a municipal ordinance. Anybody setting up any sort of show has to have a permit by the township; has to have a current inspection sticker from the State Fairground Commission as well." "I can show you the sticker, officer, but I don't have the permit yet. It's being taken care off, as we speak, and I don't intend to open until I have it. Your ordinance does allow me to set up my exhibit first." Bergstrom scratched his head. "I suppose it does. I can check back later to see that you got the permit. I'll be on duty here all day." "Doesn't seem like very glamorous duty for a man of your experience?" "Tell me about it. I'd like to move up, be a sergeant and all, but I never seem to get around to doing anything about it. Heck, I don't even know why I'm telling you all this." "People like to confide in me," the other man said. "My name's Barker, by the way. So's my job." "Bergstrom, Jack Bergstrom. Nice to meet you, Mr. Barker." "And you, officer. I'll tell you what. I'm just about set up inside. Would you like to look around? No charge, of course." "Why not? It'll be a change of pace, at least." "At least," Barker said, lifting the tent flap, so the policeman could go inside. The tent was fairly dark inside. The heavy canvas cut out most of the daylight. A set of tiny bulbs, light Christmas tree lights were stretched across rows of wires high above. The space was walled of into a box by some kind of room dividers up to a height of about eight feet. An elaborately lettered sign next to an opening in the wall said, "Enter Here." Bergstrom walked in. He was about five feet inside, moving down a narrow corridor when he heard a whooshing sound behind him. He turned just in time to see the door closing. Was it a trap? Any good cop had enemies. 'No,' he thought. He didn't have enemies that would go to the trouble of setting up anything this fancy. It must just be to scare people. He continued down the corridor, making a turn to the left. As he did, another section of wall behind him shut. 'Keep the customers separate,' he thought. He noticed that the walls were now mirrored. Some were just regular mirrors, but some were fancy, making him look tall and very skinny, short and fat, hunchbacked. He noticed one that made him look -- now how did they do that -- it made him look Chinese; darker skin, almond-shaped eyes. It wasn't a painting because it looked like him, moved when he did. "Maybe it's one of them computer programs," he said out loud. The effects got weirder and weirder as he moved on down the corridor. He was an old man. He was a kid in a football uniform. Finally, he found himself in what seemed like a dead end. He turned to go back, only to see a panel move to block the way. He found himself in the center of a small hexagonal room. All the walls were mirrors now, regular mirrors that showed a slightly chunky, slightly balding middle-aged man in a police uniform. Or did they? The mirrors began to move as if the room was spinning around him. He felt dizzy and put a hand to his head. Jack felt a full, thick head of hair under his fingers. It was growing, too, down over his forehead in front and over his ears and down to his neck in the back. He looked in the spinning mirrors and saw a full head of dark brown curls that framed his face and reached down to his shoulders. As he stared in amazement, he began to shrink within his uniform. His hands disappeared up into his sleeves, his cuffs trailed on the ground. He took a step forward and found that he had walked out of his shoes. He looked at his face. It seemed softer, somehow. His nose was smaller and his cheekbones were a bit higher. It looked like -- like a woman's face. This was crazy, but when he lifted his arms to look at his hands, he saw that they were thinner, with long, supple, and, yes, feminine looking fingers. He put his hands to his shirt, now several sizes too big. He could feel something on his chest, something soft, but firm, growing, pushing back against his hands. They kept growing until they were big enough to be seen pushing out the front of the shirt. "Definitely more than a handful," he thought. His pants slid further down on his hips. They'd have kept going, but something, his new wide hips, stopped them. He'd felt them grow -- his butt, too -- filling his briefs. His waist got narrower at the same time, giving him an exquisite hourglass figure. There was enough room in the loose pants for him to get one hand down. He felt around desperately for his masculine equipment and found it, or what was left of it. His prick couldn't have been more than a couple inches long, and it was getting smaller as he held it. His scrotal sack was smaller, but it was still there; except there was nothing inside. He felt things moving around inside him. In a moment, his prick was too small to hold on to. It settled down between the folds of skin that had been his scrotum, then sank inside as a vaginal opening formed. He was a woman. Jack Bergstrom knew it. Maybe this was some sort of elaborate revenge scheme. He had to get out, had to warn his fellow officers. *His* fellow officers? Jack saw his uniform shrink down to fit him. At first, he looked like a girl wearing a man's uniform. Then the cut of the shirt changed to a woman's blouse. As it did, he felt his undershirt moving against his skin. Something enclosed, then supported his new breasts. A sports bra, he realized, just like any other female cop wore. His pants legs shortened to just above the knee. The two legs grew together, changing cut and material to become a regulation skirt. His socks moved up his legs, growing sheer as they became a pair of pantyhose. His shoes changed very little, since regulations didn't allow a female office to wear heels. He felt an odd sensation on his face and leaned forward to look in the mirrors. His lips darkened slightly as lipstick formed on them. He was wearing a little blusher, as well. The most amazing part was how good he looked. He wasn't a babe by any means, just a fairly attractive woman of perhaps, twenty-five. He'd lost some twenty years of age along with his male "fixtures." He hoped his fingerprints hadn't changed because nobody was going to believe this without proof. The mirrored walls had stopped spinning, but now they started up again. There was some kind of blinking light overhead, and the effect made Jack kind of dizzy. He stumbled back a step and put his hand to his head again. The mirrors stopped, and a panel slid away. "Are you all right, officer?" It was the Barker. Jackie found herself feeling kind of jealous the way the young woman's pillowy breasts filled out the shirt and the green and yellow striped vest that she wore. "I'm fine, thanks," she said. "Just a little dizzy from that stupid light. She decided that she really had nothing to be jealous of. Her own breasts were only a C-cup, but her current boyfriend didn't seem to have any complaints. "Well, I've got to be going now. Thanks for letting me take a look." "Perfectly all right; we're always glad to cooperate with the police. You check back after lunch. I should have that permit by then." "I will." Jackie put on her patrolman's cap, adjusting it over the bun she wore her hair in while she was on duty. "See you then," the Barker said. "Oh, and good luck with your exam next week." Exam? What exam? Jackie knew that she was scheduled for something, but she couldn't remember what. Oh, yes, she'd been studying for it all month. How could she forget? She was going to ace the thing, she knew it cold. "Sergeant Jacqueline Bergstrom", it had such a nice ring to it. ***** "Telephone call, Mr. Maddox. It's Tom Halloran." Paul Maddox looked up from the papers on his desk. At thirty-six, he was already one of the richest men in the county, a tall slender man with a long, narrow face and slick, black hair dressed in an Italian cut suit. "Thanks, Betsy," he to his intercom. He pressed a blinking button. "Okay, Halloran, what have you got for me?" "A guy came into the office this morning and get a permit to run some kind of carnival on your lot at Sixth and Diamond." Halloran worked in the Township Office. Maddox paid him to keep an eye on his real estate interests, including the lot at Sixth and Diamond. "You didn't tell me anything about it, so I figured I'd better check with you." Maddox scowled, one of his favorite expressions. "I didn't tell you because I didn't know. Whoever that is; he's stealing that land from me. Thanks, Halloran. You just earned this month's money." He clicked off the intercom and planned his next move. Rent, a cut of the gate, maybe a little extra for his trouble; it was about time that stupid lot brought in some cash. 'Best to go over now,' he thought, 'before there's a lot of fool people around.' It wasn't something to do alone, though. He clicked the intercom again. "Andy, get your ass in here. We've got an errand to run." "What's up, Paul?" Andy James was Maddox's third cousin. In theory, they were partners. The start of Maddox' fortune was the money and the small chunk of land their grandfather had left to the pair of them. He was four years younger than Maddox, who had bullied him mercilessly when they were both kids. In a very short time, Maddox had frozen him out, reduced him to a menial in the company that he had actually co-owned. He was as tall as his cousin, but muscular where Paul was thin, and with an unruly shock of sandy brown hair. "Somebody's squatting on that lot at Sixth and Diamond. They've set up some kind of carnival without so much as a 'howdy-do', and I intend to make them pay for it." They drove over in Maddox' limo. Scaring your opponent was half the battle, and Maddox wanted whoever was on his land to be as scared as possible. The chauffeur, Geophrey Mohammed, was a Black ex-Golden Gloves champion, 225 pounds of muscle who was perfectly happy to break a few bones if the boss told him to. There didn't seem to be anyone around when the limo pulled up and parked near the green tent. Maddox stormed out. "Geophrey, you come with me. Andy, you can come along if you want. Maybe you'll learn something. The three walked towards the tent with Maddox in the lead. An elderly black man, his hair no more than fringes of white above his ears, came out of the tent. He wore a pair of green slacks, a white shirt, and a yellow and green striped vest. "Can I help you, young fellows?" "Yeah," Maddox growled. "Tell your boss to get his boss out here." The old man smiled. "Ain't nobody here but me." He offered his hand. "Name's Barker. Barker by name; barker by nature." He chuckled. "Welcome to the 'House of Mystic Mirrors', Mr. Maddox." "How'd you know - what is this place?" "A place of wonder and delight, Mr. Maddox; where truths are revealed and lives changed for the better. Would you like to see it?" "Fine," Maddox said. "If my man can come with me." He smiled. It was a wolf's smile. "Just in case, of course." "Of course. You're both welcome." He lifted the flap of the tent and motioned for them both to go in." "You wait out here, Andy," Maddox said as he followed Geophrey into the tent. If I'm not out in ten minutes, use your cell phone to call the police." "Oh, I'm sure that there will be no need for that," Barker said, lowering the flap of the tent. The inside of the tent was a big box maze with eight-foot walls. The wall looked solid. There was only one opening, a missing panel with a sign next to it that said "Enter Here." There must not have been a ceiling, since the only light in the tent came from a set of flickering bulbs strung high above in a crisscross pattern. Geophrey flexed his muscles, stretching the fabric of his gray uniform. "Might as well go in, boss. There don't seem to be nothing else in here." "I suppose," Maddox said. "You lead the way." Geophrey grinned and walked through the opening. Maddox followed behind. They'd gotten about five feet inside, when there was an odd noise. Maddox turned and saw the door sliding shut. "Get ready, Geophrey. This is looking more and more like a trap." "Hey, boss," Geophrey said. "I'm ready. That's what you pay me for." They walked on, winding their way through the corridors. The walls were mirrored now; funny mirrors, too. This one made them both look impossibly tall and thin; that one somehow made them look like they were three foot tall and fat as volleyballs. A little further on, the mirror made them look like teenage girls. "Gotta be some kind of computer," Geophrey said. "If it is, it's a system I never heard of before," Maddox said. "I wonder if it's for sale. I can see ways to make a lot of money off something this good." They turned, and the floor seemed to ramp down a little. Geophrey was about three feet ahead of Maddox, when a section of wall slid between them. Geophrey tried to stop it, but it had locked in place before he could block it. He pounded on the door with his fists as hard as he could, but nothing happened. The material didn't look very strong, but it felt like steel when he hit it. A body slam did no better. "Can you hear me, boss?" he yelled. When there was no answer, he shrugged. The best thing to do was to find his way out. He could make that old guy let the boss out, no sweat. He started walking again, ignoring the odd reflections on either side. He turned a corner only to find a dead end, but before he could start back, another section of wall slid out. He was trapped in some sort of six sided room. Geophrey roared and began hammering at the walls with his closed fists. He couldn't be trapped. He'd always been able to use his body, his physical strength to solve his problems. That was why he got to wear the fancy uniform and drive the fancy car, because Mr. Maddox wanted him around for his strength and his fighting skills. What else did he have? Suddenly, the mirrors seemed to move, as if the room was spinning around him. The light sparkled back in his face, and Geophrey raised his hand to shield his eyes. He could see his hand silhouetted in the bright light, and as he looked at it, it began to get smaller. It shrank down to a little bit of a hand, maybe half as big as it had been, with long slender fingers - with half inch shaped finger nails. What was happening to him? Geophrey looked down to see his entire body shrinking. He felt his muscles fading away under his uniform. His pants fell to the floor, taking his shorts with them, but that wasn't a problem. His starched white shirt now reached down past his knees. He threw off the now heavy jacket and tried to look at himself in the spinning mirrors. He looked like a kid of, maybe sixteen, and a short scrawny kid at that. Then his features began to change, to soften. His nose wasn't broken anymore. It was smaller, too. The piece of his ear that had been bitten off in a bar fight when he was nineteen was back, too. It was getting hard to see it, though, because his hair wasn't short anymore. It was growing in waves, past his ears, his shoulders, and down to the small of his back. His face had a more feminine shape now; longer lashes on his eyes, fuller lips, a pretty young girl's face. A girl! No, he couldn't be no weak girl. But it was true. His arms were slender with no hint of the muscles he'd had before. He felt a tickling at his chest. When he pulled open the shirt to look, he saw his nipples darken, then push outward as he grew small, taut breasts. No more than a B-cup, if that, but definitely breasts. It was easy to tell. The mass of body hair that had caused one old girl friend to nickname him "Poppa Bear" was completely gone. As he looked past his breasts, Geophrey saw his stomach grow thin and his waist narrow. He reached up beneath the shirt from below. He had an erection, but it was a lot smaller than he was used to, and it was getting smaller as he tried to hold on to it. In moments, his penis had retreated into the newly formed slit between his legs to become a clitoris. As he watched, his pants and jacket seemed to disappear. The sleeves of his shirt moved halfway up his arms as the fabric rearranged into a brown denim jumper. He could see his legs now in the mirror. They weren't bad, just the right amount of feminine curve to be interesting. As the new jumper molded itself to his new body, he could see his wider hips and full butt. He felt fabric moving under his dress and realized that he was now wearing a girl's bra and panties. The support felt good around his new breasts. He stared as he seemed to grow again, but then he felt his weight shift and looked down to see the new two-inch heels he was wearing. His tie changed into a brown and yellow scarf. His face twitched as lip gloss and blusher seemed to form. He blinked as mascara and shadow appeared on his lashes and eyelids. He stared into the mirrors, which seemed to have stopped moving. A teenaged girl, maybe eighteen years old, was reflected back rather than the twenty-eight year old man that should have been there. He shook his head. "I've got to get out of here." As if in answer, the room began to spin again. Geophrey closed his eyes, but it was as if his mind was spinning, too. The sensation seemed to suddenly fade away. Gia Mohammed opened her eyes. "I've got to get out of here," she repeated. She looked at her wristwatch. It was almost three o'clock. She'd finished her shift at McD's; the high schoolers would be coming in soon to take her place. Her boss had let her leave early so she could get to class at the junior college, and here she was wasting her time in some dumb house of mirrors. "Dumb is the word, too," she said to herself. She'd had to drop out of school when she was stupid enough to let Amahd Nolan get her pregnant. Well, she'd given up the baby to a better life with some foster parents, much as it had hurt. Now she was putting herself through school. She was pretty enough to get a job as a model - or on the streets, but she knew that she had a brain, too. Her grades were good, and, in a year, her associate degree was going to get her a job as a paralegal. The money was a lot better. And, who knew, she might even decide to go on and become a lawyer someday. Anything was possible for a smart girl like her. The Barker was waiting for her by the exit. The woman in the green slacks and green and yellow striped vest handed Gia her book bag, and said that she hoped that Gia had enjoyed the "House of Mirrors." The Barker was friendly in an "Earth Mother" sort of way with a beautiful accent that fit her obvious Latina heritage. Gia waved "Goodbye as she ran to catch her bus. ***** Maddox had pounded on the door as it shut between Geophrey and him. He clawed at it, trying to find a finger hold, but there was none. There was a whooshing sound, and a panel slid aside next to him revealing a new passageway. "I'm going to try to find a way out," he shouted at the door. "Try to meet me outside." There was no answer, so he turned and headed in the new direction. He didn't like being separated like this. He was mad, and he walked straight ahead, muscles tense; fingers clenched into two fists. He had no time to look at the mirrors on the wall. Mirrors that showed him as a ten year-old boy, a rather heavy middle-aged woman, and a hundred other strange shapes. He realized that he'd reached some kind of dead end just in time to keep from walking into one of the damned mirrors. He heard the same whooshing sound behind him and turned just in time to see the wall close. He was now in some six-sided room that reminded him of the glass planters his great aunt had kept plants in. This was the last straw. Maddox looked at his watch. He'd been in there for over fifteen minutes. His idiot cousin must have called the police by how. "Stall all you want," he shouted. "I'll get out of here. Andy may be stupid, but he does what he's told. You'll let me out quick enough when he tells the cops that you've got my stuck in here." The mirrors began to move as if the room was spinning. Maddox closed his eyes and braced himself for whatever nonsense they were going to try. His body tingled and he felt his clothes moving. He opened his eyes. The room seemed bigger. No, he was smaller. His suit was now several sizes to big, and he had to tie off his belt to keep the pants from slipping down. Based on the way his cuffs were laying on the floor, he guessed that he was about six inches shorter. "This can't be happening," he said, startling himself by the new pitch to his voice. "Testing, one, two, three, four." Yes, it was higher. He sounded like a woman with a high alto voice. He tried to clear whatever frog was in his throat, but his voice only got higher until it finally stabilized well inside the soprano range. He ran his fingers through his hair, an old nervous habit. His hair seemed fuller now. Longer, too. It had grown into a pageboy cut that curled up at the ends just above his shoulders. His face seemed to grow less angular, fuller, what was that damned word, "Heart shaped." The new look, with its larger eyes and fuller lips, fit the new hairstyle. "Damn," Maddox said. "I look like a girl from the neck up." Then a sudden though, was it just from the neck up? He put his hand to his chest and felt it pushed back as two lumps seemed to grow out. The other hand reached up to investigate. Breasts, and nice ones, too, were forming under his shirt. They pushed the shirt out, the nipples erect and visible under the cotton fabric. Now a hand went down to his pants. Everything was there, but smaller. No, his testicles were completely gone. He felt an odd sensation inside his crotch, as if things were re-arranging. His prick shrank down to the point where it slipped out of his hand. He felt for it, and then pulled his hand away in horror when he found a newly formed vaginal slit where his "family jewels" should have been. The mirrors seemed to have stopped. He saw a woman of perhaps thirty looking ridiculous in the clothes of a much larger man. She - where had it come from -she had lipstick on her lips and was wearing some kind of blusher and eye liner as well. He suddenly got a whiff of some flowery perfume that he must now be wearing. His clothes changed now. First, they shrank down to fit him; at least, fit him as well as a man's suit could fit an attractive and overly curvy young woman. His shirt strained against his large breasts. His large hips and butt stretched his pants almost to the point of tearing. Then the fabric shifted. Maddox felt something move against his chest, forming a bra that gave pleasurable support to his new breasts. His jacket changed from navy to a pale pastel blue sweater. The buttons vanished from his shirt as it became a white silk blouse. His tie narrowed and turned metallic, becoming a thin gold chain. A pendant formed, pulling the chain down until it rested just above his breasts. His pants moved up his leg. They merged into a single tube that lightened and changed into a mid-thigh skirt that matched the sweater. His socks slid up his legs to become a pair of pantyhose. Maddox was slowly lifted into the air as his male shoes changed into a pair of woman's pumps with a two-inch heel. The incredible nature of his transformation sank in. Maddox leaned against a wall staring at his new image. He never noticed the final change as his class ring narrowed and shifted somehow to another finger. "This is abso-fucking-lutely unreal. When I talk to Andy and the cops..." It was all he had a chance to say. The mirrors seemed to be moving again. There was a bright flickering light. "I don't know what you're up to now, but you can't do this sort of thing to Paul Maddox. When Andy gets... Andy? Why was he threatening them with Andy? He closed to eyes to shield them from the blinking lights. Andy. Where was Andy? A panel slid aside. The exit. Paula ran out of the maze and out of the tent. Andy was waiting, smiling. "Did you enjoy the maze?" "You know me and carnivals," she giggled. "It was a little scary in a few places, and it would have been nice to have you there to protect me." She hugged his arm, happy to be with him again. "If I had thought that there was any real danger, you know that I'd have come along." He reached over and took her hand in his. "Of course, sir," said the Barker, a short blond man with a beard of the same sandy yellow color. "It's a man's job to protect his wife, isn't it?" The accent was a polite Cockney. "But there's no danger in this here 'Hall', just some good fun." Andy James checked his watch. "I hate to hurry you, dear, but I'm meeting the township commissioner in an hour to discuss the new development over at the other end of town." Paula Maddox James pouted at her husband. "Do I have to go? We both know that I don't really have any interest in the business." "I know, but the commissioner likes you. She says that since you're officially a partner in the firm, you should be at some of the meetings." "I suppose," she sighed. Then she turned back to the Barker. "Thank you for letting me go on your ride. I've made arrangements for the County Children's Home to bus over the children later. You let them all go through your 'Hall of Mystic Mirrors' for free - let them have some fun - and my husband and I will consider the rent for the use of this lot through Halloween paid in full." The Barker bowed low and gently kissed Paula's hand. "A most gracious offer from a most gracious lady. I hope you will have a good time at your meeting." "I won't," Paula said. She looked over at Andy who was making over obvious gestures at his wristwatch. "But thanks, anyway. Bye." She hurried over to her husband and kissed him on the cheek. "Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for," Andy said. "For being a darling and letting me work out that deal with Mr. Barker so the kids get a chance for some fun. And for letting me go in the tent, too." "Somehow," Andy said, as they walked hand in hand to their SUV, "I think I got the best of that deal." ***** "Boomer" Harris spent the day thinking about that tent. It was more fun than thinking about his class work, which he seldom did anyway. If absolutely necessary, there was always some chick that could be charmed into doing it for him; or some dork that could be made to see how the benefits of doing Boomer's homework were a lot better than the pain he got for refusing to do it. Mary Elizabeth was nowhere to be found. Something about the school paper, she'd said. Boomer hadn't known that she was even on the paper. He made a mental note to take her out sometime when he had an English paper due. He was trying to decide which girl was going to be lucky enough to go over to that "Mirror" place with him, when he heard someone call his name. He turned to see Zack Hayes and Marcus Conklin heading towards him. The three had been friends and teammates since grade school. Zack was tall and thin, all legs and arms, he ran track in the off season and claimed he could catch Boomer's passes in his sleep. Marcus was fast enough, but he was squat and heavily muscled. When he planted himself, few players could get by him; when he hit them, most players stayed down. "Yo, man," Zack said. "Where you heading?" "I was gonna head over to the "Mirrors" place I saw on the bus. You guys want to come along?" "Sounds good," Marcus said, "but I hear it costs. Who's paying?" Boomer looked around just in time to see Tim Pender coming out of the building. "Him," he said, pointing at Pender. Then he yelled, "Freshman! Get over here. Now!" Tim froze. He was a short, skinny boy in a pair of brown slacks and a brown on brown plaid shirt. He wore a glasses with a thin silver frame and had a set of pens in a protector in the shirt pocket. "M-me, sir?" he said pointing to himself and hoping he was wrong. "Yeah, get your skinny ass over here." Tim sighed and walked over, head bowed. "What do you want, sir?" "You got any money, frosh," Marcus said. "Ah, some, sirs." That was it then, simple extortion. He'd give them his money and be done with it. "Good," Boomer said. "You're gonna treat us all to that "Mirrors" thing over on Diamond. You got enough for that?" Tim pulled out his wallet. He had about twelve dollars. "Ah, yes, sir. I - I can afford that." He quickly put his wallet back in his pocket. "You sure can," Boomer laughed. "And if we have a good time, we'll let you treat us to sodas afterward." "I'll get my car," Marcus said. "You wait here." "Oh, he'll wait," "Boomer" said. "Won't you?" "Yes, sir," Tim sighed. Marcus was back in a few minutes with his old Chevy. "C'mon, climb in." He waved. Once they had all gotten in, with Tim firmly wedged between "Boomer" and Zack, Marcus asked, "Okay, where's this place we're going to?" "That lot over at Sixth and Diamond," Boomer said, "look for a big green tent with a yellow flag on the top." Minutes later, they pulled up at the lot. They had expected some kind of line, but, strangely enough, nobody seemed to be around. They climbed out of the car and walked over to the tent. Boomer pushed Tim ahead of them. An attractive Oriental woman in her early twenties came out of the tent. Her eyes were made up to look almost catlike, and her hair was a silky black grade the hung down to her waist. She wore well-tailored green slacks and a rather tight green and yellow vest over a starched white shirt. "Ah, may I help you, boys." Her voice was soft and low with just a trace of an accent. "Yeah," Boomer said. "Four tickets." He pushed Tim forward, so hard that the smaller boy almost fell. "He's paying." "Are you, young sir," the woman asked. "Yes, Ma'am." He picked himself up and pulled out his wallet with a pained dignity." "You may call me 'Barker'. It is my name as well as my occupation." She looked at him for a moment. "Four tickets will cost four dollars, young sir." Tim handed her a five from his wallet. She put it in her vest pocket without looking at it. Then she reached back into the same pocket and took out a single that she handed back to Tim. Then she pulled back the tarp of the tent and motioned for them to go in. "Enjoy yourselves." Zack leered at Barker as he walked past her and into the tent. "Care to join us inside, Babe?" Barker smiled, showing teeth that seemed pointed for just a moment. "It would be - interesting, Zack, but I must remain out her for other customers." "Your loss," Zack shrugged, not even noticing that she had called him by name. He leered at her again and joined the others inside. The inside of the tent seemed bigger than the outside somehow. It was filled with what looked like an eight-foot high box. There was a single break in the wall of the thing nearest them, marked by a sign that said "Enter here." They stared at it for a minute. "What the hell," Marcus said. "Let's go see what's inside that thing." The boys walked in, Tim still in front in case there were any traps or gimmicks. They'd gotten about five feet away from the entrance, when they heard a sudden whooshing sound. "The door," Boomer yelled and jumped for the panel that was sliding into place. He was too late. The wall sealed shut without so much as a seam or finger grip. "You ain't scared," Zack asked. "Hell, no," Boomer said. "I just don't like the idea of getting surprised like that." He stood up straight and pretended to brush his jeans. "I guess we go ahead no. The whole point of this place must be to find our way out, like some kind of maze." "Okay, then," Zack said. "Let's get moving." The four of them moved forward down the corridor as it shifted and turned. It was Marcus who first noticed something. "Hey, man," he said. "You guys get a look at these mirrors on the walls?" "Yeah," Boomer said. "They're mirrors, big deal." "These aren't regular mirrors, Boomer. They make us look different." "So they're like in a fun house," Zack said, "curved so we look tall or short, so what?" Marcus pointed at a section of wall in front of them. "I think they're more than that, guys. This one makes us all look like we're old." It was true, the mirror reflect four very old men, stooped with age and wrinkles, almost bald, but still in the clothes that they had been wearing." Boomer raised a hand to wave, and one of the old men matched his movements. "Cool," he said. "I wonder how they do it." "Ask the nerd," Zack said. He yanked Tim's collar. "Okay, kid, how do they work these mirrors?" "I - I don't know. If it's a computer, it's a better system than anything I've ever heard of." "Will you guys stop yapping," Boomer said. "If you're still so eager to know, we can ask the Babe when we get out. Maybe we can even get her to show us how it works." "That's not what I want her to show us," Zack said meaningfully. "You got that right, Marcus said. "That was one pretty woman." "She seemed friendly enough when we were outside." Boomer said. "Maybe we'll see just how friendly, when we get through this thing." "Sounds like a plan to me," Zack said. They continued down the corridor, laughing at the different ways they appeared in the mirrors; now four old White men, now four skinny little girls, at one point they even looked like two Black couples, each a man and a woman I their thirties. None of the three older boys would admit it, but the way the images changed were beginning to bother them. They had just turned a corner, when Boomer thought he heard something "Click." A section of the wall moved just an inch, and there was suddenly the sound of machinery ahead. "Go see what's ahead, kid," he said, pushing at Tim's back. The boy stumbled forward a few feet, then began to fall over. The others never saw him hit the ground. The whooshing sound came again, and a panel quickly slid into place between them and Tim. Then they heard the sound behind them. They turned just in time to see another panel sealing the way they had come. They looked around and saw that they were in a large six-sided room. "Now what, genius," Zack said. Boomer laughed. "What's the matter, man? You scared. They can't keep us in here forever. The place will get dark or something and then the door will open. We just wait." They didn't have to wait long. There was a flicker of light and the mirrors began to move, began to spin. They braced themselves for whatever was going to happen next. "What the Hell," Marcus said. His body felt strange. The room and everything in it, including his clothes seemed to grow larger. Especially his clothes. He looked at his friends and saw that they seemed to be shrinking, to be growing younger. They all looked into the mirrors. They were getting smaller, younger. Their faces looked less rugged. The muscles of their arms seemed to be disappearing. "This can't be --" Boomer stopped as he heard his voice crack and grow higher in pitch. He sounded like a girl now. He looked more like a girl, too, with rounder cheeks and a smaller nose. They all did. Their hair had been cut short at the insistence of the football coach. Now it was growing at a rapid rate. Marcus' face was framed by a mass of auburn curls. Zack has straight blonde hair the reached down to his now narrower shoulders. Boomer's own hair flowed part way down his back, then it twisted itself into ponytail. Their arms were hairless now, and they had a feeling that the rest of their bodies were as well. Their hands were smaller, but with long, thin fingers. Their clothes hung on them like tents. They saw their slacks suddenly slide down as their waists narrowed. The reached for them at the same instant, only to find that the wider hips and fuller buts they all now had stopped the pants from going any lower. Each boy felt an odd tingling on his chest. "Tits!" Marcus said, shaking his head in disbelief at his new alto voice, as he put a hand to his chest. "I'm growing tits." The others touched themselves as well and all three felt the new flesh growing outward. None of them were very well endowed, but they each had a set. They could feel the flesh, trace the firm curve of breast, and touch the sensitive nipples. They felt the same odd tingling in their groins, and three hands immediately went into their pants. Their pricks were still there, but they were smaller, limp. Their balls were gone, too, leaving empty sacks that were getting smaller, tighter against their skins. They panicked and grabbed for what remained, but it was too late. All their fingers found were the unwanted slits below the soft mat of hair. They were girls. As they stared at their new forms in horror, their clothes began to change. Marcus saw his dark green Pearl Jam T-shirt become a sleeveless, pale green blouse with a lacy trim at the collar. His jeans shrank to fit him, altering their cut into a pair of tight Lady Levi's that accentuated his feminine curves. He felt his undershirt shirt, losing its sleeves, and he somehow understood that it was now a girl's undershirt over his A-cup breasts. His lucky basketball shoes became a simple pair of girl's sneakers. Zack's pants became a single gray cloth tube that slid up his legs. His light blue work shirt lost its buttons before it darkened to gray and merged into tube his pants had become. The arms faded away as the collar widened. In a moment, Zack was wearing a dark gray jumper. His undershirt split in two, part of it becoming a white mock turtleneck with long, tight sleeves, while the remainder became an A-cup bra. His socks moved up his legs, merging at his hips to become a pair of white tights, and his own sneakers transformed into a pair of girl's sandals with a one-inch heel. Boomer's Atcheson T-shirt became a white silk blouse with puffy sleeves. He could feel his undershirt sliding across his chest, re-forming into the B-cup satin bra he now needed. His pants slid up his leg to mid calf, tightened and became a pair of red capri pants that hugged his new curves and accented his full, round ass. He was wearing pantyhose now, and a pair of pumps with a one-inch heel. The transformed boys looked down at their new bodies and their new clothes. They suddenly smelled a familiar fragrance, "Baby Soft", and realized that they were wearing perfume. Their faces felt odd, and when they looked at each other, they found that they all had on lip gloss and a light blush. Marcus felt a tug at his ears and pushed back his hair to discover pierced earrings, a tiny silvered sphere on each ear. Zack had a small pendant on a chain around her neck, and Boomer had a bronzed broach pinned to her blouse. "Now what," Zack asked, not realizing that he was standing in a very feminine way with his hands on his hips. "Damned if I know," Boomer laughed. "But if we look like this, just think how pretty that Pender kid must be by now. "We got to find him and see this," Marcus said. Suddenly the mirrors began to move again, accompanied by blinking lights. The three instinctively put their hands up to shield their eyes. The strobing light went on for a few seconds, then stopped. "Okay, let's find Tim Pender," Brenda Harris said. "Brenda, don't be so anxious," Sara Hayes said. "We don't want him to know how much we like him." "Oh, c'mon, Sara," Marcie Conklin said. "You know the only reason we came into this thing is because we saw him walk in." "Yeah, but he's a senior," Sara said. "We're just sophomores. Why should he want to do anything with any of us?" Brenda giggled. "Maybe if we offered to let him do anything to all three of us." Sara blushed. She was about to say something when they heard the whooshing sound and saw a panel open. Confident as ever, Tim Pender walked into the room with the three girls. They all sighed just a little as he came in. Tim was 6 foot 4, captain and mainstay of the "Hawks," their school's football team. He was also head of the chess club and senior class president. He smiled at the three girls who felt their bodies beginning to tingle. "Well," he said, "I must be near the end. I found the treasure." Marcie sighed. Her nipples felt like two pebbles on her chest and their was a warmth in her groin, something her mother had only told her about a few months before. The other girls reacted very much the same way. "We, umm, we got lost in here," Brenda said. "We really panicked when the wall slid shut. You rescued us, Tim, and you deserve a reward." She smiled shyly and lowered her head, realizing that she would give him almost *any* reward he asked for. "Just call me 'Indiana Pender', rescuer of lost women." He smiled at his own joke. "Seriously, though. I don't really deserve a reward. Besides, I've got a steady girl, Mary Reede, and I don't want her to be jealous." Marcie pouted, hoping that she looked sexy. "You do so deserve a reward." "Yeah," Sara joined in. "If you don't want anything more, how about if we three chip in and buy you a sundae at Fletchers' Creamery?" The Creamery had been in the ice cream business since the early 1920s. The owner, the grandfather of the current owners, had decided that it might not have been as profitable as what he had been producing during the earliest days of Prohibition, but it was a lot safer to make and sell. "I suppose it would be rude not to accept," Tim said. "My car's outside." A panel opened to their right, and they could see the walls of the tent. "I guess this was the end of the ride." Barker was waiting for them outside. He combed his fingers through his thinning brown hair and asked if the kids had enjoyed the "Hall of Mystic Mirrors." "I guess," Tim said. "It was certainly different." "Ah, yes," Barker said with a slight German accent. "A most pleasant change." The End (of my story, anyway. Who's next?) Copyright 2000 by Ellie Dauber.