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ABSORBED by Norman O. Johnson It was a bright spring afternoon in rural Oconee County, Georgia. The trees were starting to blossom. However, nature's beauty did not interest me as I wandered sullenly up the grassy hillside to the mysterious ruin called the Old Stone House. It was a part of a property, once a farm that had been in the Toomey family for years. The land was not longer farmed, but the family retained the house as a vacation retreat. My family paid me a few extra dollars to come up from Atlanta once a month and make sure nothing was wrong on the property. Finished with that chore, I had begun to ramble without direction across the estate, mulling over the apparent failure of my writing career. My feet idly took me to this place. It was called the Old Stone House for a reason. The walls and floor were of stone, but the roof had long since collapsed. The structure had long been a ruin when one of my ancestors bought the property in the 1920's. I stepped onto the stone floor and walked to the middle of the floor space. It was a small structure, measuring only about 15 by 30 feet, and had never had a second floor. There was also no chimney and no basement. These facts were curious. Most houses of this period had a root cellar or a storm cellar. When the Toomey family had bought this house, they came to own a local legend of terror. The Old Stone House had once been the home of a witch, or witches. Some visitors to this ruined site had disappeared, never to be heard of again. So went the legend, although there had been no mysterious disappearances on this property since my family had owned it. I folded my arms and looked around at the moss-covered floor and the ivy covered walls. It was hard to believe the legend, colorful though it was. The Old Stone House was an old ruin of a stone house. That was all it was. I often took long walks in those days, ruminating over the frustrations of my life. I was twenty-nine years old. Seven years out of college, I had risen no higher in the world that assistant manager of a Barnes-and-Noble. My real ambition was to be a writer. Finally my first fantasy adventure novel had been published, to generally bad reviews. The phrases from the most-hated review echoed through my mind. "A tiresome melange of motifs borrowed from just about everybody---Tolkien, Lovecraft, Howard, deCamp, Bourroughs, even Ursula LeGuin---and ineptly dramatized by stock situations, trite dialogue, and unconvincing characters. The female characters are especially bad." It didn't even sell. It would almost be better if I hadn't been published at all. Honestly, I didn't understand my critics. Sure, I borrowed my plots, but every writer does. Even Shakespeare borrowed his plots. He borrowed the plot of "Romeo and Juliet" from another play. But nobody performs "Romeus and Julietta" today. And all the complaining about female characters, what was that about? I understood women. I'd even lived with two of them, for a few months. I couldn't keep one, though, for some reason. Christ, whom does a guy have to be to get started as a fantasy writer in this day and age? President Gerald Ford? Part One: The Absorbing I started to walk again, and gave a start. My shoes were stuck to the stones, as if I'd stepped into a puddle of very strong glue. I looked down. I was standing in the center of a dimly glowing silver circle of light measuring slightly less than two feet in diameter. Then the stone floor seemed to give way, and I fell. I fell in up to mid-thigh depth. There was a strange feeling down below. My feet were suddenly bare, and my jeans seemed to have disintegrated up to some distance past my knees. A cool breeze was caressing my legs, as if they were hanging in a drafty underground cavern. But that made no sense. If I'd merely fallen into a hole, what had happened to my shoes and socks? I could feel myself sinking downwards again, but much more slowly this time. The fibers of my jeans were continuing to unravel and disappear. What on earth was happening to me? Then it hit me. My vast reading of fantasy and sci-fi in the last 15 years had prepared me to understand this. I had stepped onto the portal to another parallel universe, which had opened up and started to absorb my body. I was traveling along another dimension. Cool! Some great sci-fi and fantasy works had begun this way, and it was happening to me for real. I wasn't going to write fantastic adventures. I was going to live them. What a fine revenge to take on my critics, although they would never know it. As I sank gradually lower and lower, and more and more of my pants dissolved, I rejoiced. I didn't know where I was going, but I could already tell from the breezes flowing beneath that the atmospheric composition, atmospheric pressure, and temperature were compatible with earth. I was reminded of John Carter, Bourrough's hero, who was snatched away stark naked to Mars (which the Martians called Barsoom), and ended up running the largest empire on the planet. I bid good riddance to the unappreciative planet earth, which had no room for Jerome Toomey. Adventure in this other world awaited me. Middle Earth, Hyperborea, Barsoom, whatever you are called, you magic land, here I come! I thought. I looked down again, and impatiently saw that the portal had barely made it to the bottom of my pockets. Why had the absorption process slowed to a crawl? The rate of absorption was most likely controlled by the thickness, or the volume, or weight, of the part of the body passing through, or perhaps by a combination of all of these. In that case, the process would slow down even more once it got to the trunk of my body, but speed up rapidly when it got to my head. I looked around me. The April sun slipped behind a cloud. White blossoms adorned some nearby dogwood trees. As the minutes ticked away, I hoped that the world I was going to would be as beautiful as the loveliest trees, flowers, and sunsets that I had experienced on earth. This wasn't a bad planet. I only objected to its unimaginative, convention-bound people who ran it. I had lost most of my pants now. My legs felt a little odd. I rubbed one of my shins against the other. The skin down there was very soft. I seemed to have lost nearly all of the hair on my legs. My thighs felt thicker, even a little bit flabby. But if my thighs were getting flabby, why didn't I notice that while walking up here? I was puzzled, but the problem did not seem very important. I looked down again. I had been absorbed almost up to my crotch. Good. We're making progress here, I thought. Then I gasped, as I felt my testicles abruptly withdraw themselves upward into my body. The scrotum was pulled in right behind them. I felt a narrow passageway being opened up in my crotch. My balls moved upwards through this hole, and then I lost all sensation of them. What in the hell? I had lost my balls somewhere inside of me. My penis dangled free in the air of the other world. It felt strange without my scrotum behind it. If losing my balls was the price of admission to the alternate universe, then I wasn't going. I put my hands on the stones, being careful to lay them just outside the circle, and pushed with all my might. Absorption continued. I pushed again. No luck. Once I've pulled myself free, I told myself, I'll go to a hospital and get my balls put back where they belong. To prepare for the supreme effort, I took a deep breath. As I drew it in, another gust of breeze struck my smooth sexless crotch. My penis was gone. That organ which defined me as a man, and which had given so much pleasure to me, to Cindy, and to Sandra, had perished in the cool breeze of that other world. I screamed. My scream echoed back to me in mockery, confirming that I was alone on this accursed farmstead, and never so alone as now. Intense pain choked the scream. My entrails writhed like two coupling snakes, as if making room for new organs. It was the worst bellyache I'd ever had, but the pain in my pelvis was far worse. For a moment I thought my pelvis was being torn to pieces. Instead, it was being pulled outward at the bottom edge. I groaned and moaned. This thing was killing me. The narrow passageway in my lower abdomen broke through to the surface, forming a vertical cleft. My crotch was no longer sexless. This portal wasn't killing me. It was turning me into a female as I descended. I would arrive in the alternate universe as a woman. That was a way of killing me! After all, I, Jerome Braxton Toomey, was a man. I was born a man, raised to be a man, and happy to be a man. If I became a woman, she would be somebody else, not me! It made no difference if she had my skeleton, my skin, and my organs, except for three of them. Who do they think I am on the other side? Rene Richards? Gathering all my strength, I made one last irrational push against the stone floor. Absorption continued. I groaned some more. My waistline was narrowing as my insides shifted lower, and padding was added to my new female buttocks. My jeans were loose at the waist now. My hourglass figure was taking shape. My pelvis had reached its final form and no longer hurt, but my belly still ached, as the open space inside me grew larger. I guessed now that my womb was forming, and my testicles mutating themselves into ovaries. I looked down and saw the rest of my pants and belt disappearing into the shimmering silver light. My life was over. Surely, when my brain passed through the portal, my mind would be obliterated as well. A new female personality would be created in her head. Very likely she would not even remember that she had once been Jerome. She would have the atoms of my body, but my true self, my mind, would be snuffed out. My utter helplessness was even more horrible than the loss of my manhood. There was nothing left for me to do. I began to prepare myself mentally to die. I did not pray because I had no religion. I had always considered that an outmoded custom. I was proud to know that even though I stood halfway through death's door I still had the courage of my atheist convictions. I also felt a certain humility. I had been fortunate after all. A literate middle-class family had raised me and given me a good education. My father had derided me for studying Roman history. He complained I had left college unqualified to be anything but Roman emperor. I knew I didn't have the right personality to be a professor, so I decided to write fantasy instead. Dad then labeled me as an impractical dreamer. Admittedly, I was somewhat under-employed at the moment, but I might have made a successful writer some day, if a cruel fate hadn't guided my steps to this terrible spot. My shirt and sweater began to be destroyed, as my lowest pair of ribs sunk beneath the surface. What was happening to me was horrifying and tragic, but I would not ask, "Why me?" Wouldn't it be just as horrible if it happened to someone else? Wouldn't it be just as much a crime if it happened to someone else? I must not feel sorry for myself. It seemed far more just to hate those vicious aliens in that other world who were killing me by slow torture, and sucking down the atoms of my body to build a woman. Maybe they were running short of women. If so, they had chosen a demented and sadistic solution. These aliens, I was certain, would take this new female body they were making and put into it any consciousness they wished. But I would be gone. What if this female body still had my mind when it alighted in the other world? That would be a fate worse than death. I could not live as a woman on any planet. I would kill myself. My hands were still touching the stone floor just outside the luminous circle. Once again, I was impatient to get this over with, but for a different reason. Now I just wanted the pain and anxiety of dying to end. I sobbed. Tears poured down my cheeks. Time to get it over with, I thought. I pulled in my arms and stuck them through the portal. At once my arms were stripped bare, and every bone from my finger tips to my shoulder joints ached abominably. My arms grew slightly shortener, and I could feel my wrists and hands shrinking too. I stopped sobbing, though the tears continued to fall. My breathing became more difficult, as my ribs contracted, squeezing my lungs and heart. I hoped I would have a fatal heart attack now, and be free of my pain and helplessness. Cruelly, relentlessly, remorselessly, absorption continued. Minute by minute, my ribs gradually moved closer together as I sank lower and lower. It was hard to know what was more horrible: the helplessness, the feminization, the excruciating pain in my bones and organs, the tormenting slowness of my final ordeal, or the fact that I was dying at such an early age, with most of my life still ahead of me. I was almost finished. I hadn't bothered to time the process, but I estimate the portal took about an hour to absorb me as far as my lower ribs. The rate of absorption was variable. My torso required much more time to absorb than my feet and legs, perhaps because of complex internal organs. Here I come, sweet death! I thought. Here I come, not fast enough to suit me. I certainly was dying. I struggled desperately to breathe, as my shrinking rib cage tightened further around my lungs. My heart throbbed helplessly against my contracting ribs. I grew dizzy. My head started spinning. The oxygen supply to my brain was fading. Good, I thought. I'm going to die. The pain will soon be over, and I won't have to live as a woman. I fainted. When I awoke, I was breathing normally again. It disappointed me to be still alive and still feeling such intense pain. My shoulder blades were aching and shrinking. My collarbones were painfully shortening themselves. Everything beneath them was completely free of pain, and female. This body was not mine. I was a head, a neck, and a pair of contracting shoulders. Below me, a headless woman was dangling in mid-air over an unknown planet. She was doing my breathing for me now, supplying my doomed brain with air. Breasts had sprouted on her chest. They seemed heavy. I guessed they were very large. Good for her, I thought. She'll enjoy them when she has sex, and she might want to breast-feed her children too. As much as I hated the alien assassins of this other world who were killing me, I could not hate this woman in the making. So far as I knew, she had not chosen to be born this way. I hoped she would be born into a world where women were honored and respected. I hoped she would find a good husband, if she wanted one, and the joys of motherhood, if she wanted children. How I wished for my pain to be over with! How I longed to die! Finally, after many minutes, my shoulders slipped through, painfully drawing nearer together as they did. The portal was now absorbing my neck. I felt many tiny needles poking at the front of it. Although I was clean-shaven, the follicles of my beard hairs were still there, and the portal was obliterating them, hundreds at a time. As the minutes past, my throat grew sore. My larynx ached so much that I couldn't speak. My vocal cords were being altered to make a higher pitch. I wondered briefly why her spinal column, especially the neck bones, weren't feeling any strain. After all, her body was hanging by my head, unsupported unless the portal exerted some kind of force to partly counteract gravity. I wondered if the properties of the portal had anything to do with gravity, but I didn't know enough physics to answer that question. I also hoped she wouldn't have too far to fall. I didn't want her to hurt herself. When my larynx finally stopped aching, I spoke aloud for the first time since the disaster began. "Good bye, world," I said, using the new woman's voice. Her voice was a fine voice, a rich alto, low but regally feminine. As the minutes ticked past, the portal gradually absorbed the rest of my neck. This caused no pain except the prickling sensation cause by more of my beard follicles dying. My jawbone felt sore as the portal gradually absorbed it. My jaw line was becoming more delicate and feminine-looking. As my chin disappeared into the shimmering white light, I wondered what the portal would taste like when it reached my mouth. Some tedious minutes later, my lips sank into the other world, and I had my answer. The portal tasted like nothing. The absorption of my mouth, tongue, and teeth was also completely painless. As my nostrils hovered above the brink between the universes, I began breathing through my mouth. The air of the other earth tasted cleaner in some indefinite way. Suddenly my body---her body, the body of this strange new woman---grew completely numb. I became giddy again. As my head spun again into unconsciousness, I was glad to be dying at last, and rid of the pain. Part Two: The Strange New Woman I don't know how long it took the portal to absorb the rest of her head. When that was done, she fell to the ground in the night of the alien world. It was a very short drop. Her knees folded under her. She collapsed onto a grassy slope, rolled downhill a few feet, and stopped on level grass. Her first thought was: Oh, no! I didn't die. Now I'm stuck in a women's body. I dozed, or perhaps I fainted. As I lay unconscious on the hillside, a strange conversation buzzed inside my head. Welcome, my daughter, to your new life in your new world, said a voice. I am no one's daughter, I thought back. Who are you? I am the goddess Persephone, and it was I who summoned you here. Persephone? The Greek goddess of fertility? Was it you who abducted me, tortured me, violated me, emasculated me, mutilated me, and ruined my entire life? No mortal can pass through a portal between parallel Earths without a reversal of gender: male to female, or female to male. That is how the portals operate. I did not design them, but nonetheless, my daughter, it was I who summoned you into this world, making me in a sense your mother. Parallel Earths, goddess? What is this strange world I've entered? Know, my daughter, that there are many Earths, each with an identical son and moon, and rotating under an identical sky, and inhabited by an identical genus of men and women, and with identical histories up to a point. You are to be a Queen in your new world. If you place your trust in me, then you will lead your nation to a great future and stave off the threat of barbarism and chaos. You want me to be a Queen? Does that mean I have to marry a King? No, you will rule in your own name. Goddess, even if I get to run a country, it will be very hard for me to live as a woman. I've always been a man. I was happy with that. I'm not a transsexual. Your psychologists are only beginning to understand the flexibility and variability of the human mind. Forget their rigid categories. Your masculine side can express itself in other ways now. What are these strange words that are filling up my head? That's the Homunculan language, the speech of the Homunculi, your people. You can now speak and write it like a native. So the Homunculans are not a patriarchy, then? No. Age and wisdom, not gender, are the requirements of leadership among them. Your people already know the prophecy of a great Queen to come. She will be uncommonly tall, be able to read the minds of other mortals up to a distance of fifty feet, and be invulnerable to both weapons and poison. Your new body has all those attributes. Goddess, you've made me superhuman. Yes, but not immortal. Illness and old age can still kill you. Do not permit your people to worship you as a goddess. Ah, yes, the sin of hubris, I thought back. Goddess, tell me more about the parallel Earth I'm about to enter. Do you remember your Roman history, daughter? It was my favorite subject. Then it should be sufficient to tell you that Honorius is Emperor of the West at Ravenna. It really is a parallel earth, then! I replied. It's all coming back to me now. Honorious? That unfortunate boy, utterly unfit to rule. Ravenna was on the Adriatic not far from the future site of Venice. I can see, daughter, you haven't forgotten your Roman historical studies, Persephone replied. You are well fitted for your role. Have the Vandals crossed the Rhine yet? No. Then it's before December 406 A.D. The precise time, daughter, is 4:15 AM, May 5, 405 A.D. Do you have a specific mission for me, goddess, besides being Queen of the Homunculi? You are to do all you can to preserve classical culture. Some of your people have recently learned to read and write. That is a start. Goddess, what is my name now? You are henceforth to be known as Yunyat Bentat Persepun. I understand the name Yunyat. It's clearly a form of the Roman name Junia. The rest of it means "daughter of Persephone." Precisely, said the goddess. The cool of the night awakened me. I pulled myself up to my feet. I was feeling faintly sore from the fall, but otherwise this unwanted body was free of pain. My arms and legs were shaking from the cold. My survival instincts were intact. Man or woman, I would have to find warm shelter. I glanced about myself. There were only two sources of light. One was the full moon in the sky, the parallel-Moon of this parallel-Earth. I looked up for the other light. Further up the hillside, two torches or lamps lighted the entrance to a small building. I could discern a small figure seated at the entrance. Only the occasional hooting of an owl broke the silence of the night. The conversation in my head resumed. Though the Homunculi have Roman names, Persephone continued, they worship us gods and goddesses under our Greek names. My husband Hades, my mother Demeter and I are their favorite deities. We have many temples in these hills, but this one is special. This is the place where, according to prophecy, the long-awaited Queen will make her appearance. Goddess, where in the Roman Empire is this place? In the mountains which are already known as the Alps. The Homunculi live here. Their neighbors are the Celtic tribe known as Helvetians, and the Germanic tribe known as Allmanni, which have recently pushed your people out of the fertile valleys. Nominally the area is still subject to Rome, but it's practically independent. I started up the path to the temple. As I walked, I felt my hair with a hand. Jerome's hair had been long enough to cover his ears and was parted on the right. It was now the same length, but the waviness was gone. It felt fine and straight. I glanced down at my strange new body in the moonlight. My skin appeared to be dark brown. My breasts were of medium size. Their weight surprised me. My arms were weaker and my thorax narrower. My broadened pelvis moved differently as I walked. I could feel the extra padding on my buttocks. Every step reminded me of the sad absence between my thighs. I didn't feel like a woman. I felt like a eunuch. Goddess, this is a wonderful but frightening moment for me. Much has been taken from me: not just my manhood, but also friends and family, the conveniences of modern life, and America. Will I ever have a chance to go back through the portal? Will I ever see my friends and family, and live in America again? Will I ever be a man again? In theory, daughter, it's possible, but in not practice. If you go searching for the portal, I have ways of hiding it from you. Your destiny is here. I sighed. So, this was the body and this was the world in which I would live for the rest of my life! In accepting my new role, I had made a bizarre bargain with myself. I was by no means certain I could keep it. However, I was now a queen. A queen must be strong. I tucked away my sadness and my doubts in a corner of my mind, and went to claim my throne. I was moving quickly to get out of the chill. If all went well, I would find myself suitably robed in a warm room and attended by loyal subjects. Then I would change the course of history, and prevent the barbaric night from descending. Goddess, I thought to her, with the wild talents you've given me, I may be a great Queen, and I will praise your name for it. However, after so many years as a man, it will take me years of inner struggle before I accept being a woman. Daughter, she replied, it might be easier than you think. You retain Jerome's knowledge, his abilities, and his good character. You can keep all of those things and be a woman, even a great woman, the queen whom your people await. Trust in me, and give your new identity a chance. I crossed my arms to stop my hands from shaking. I had put my trust in a goddess, abandoning a lifetime of atheism without a thought. I had fancied myself a creative writer, but now I was embracing a stranger destiny than I had ever imagined. My goddess had given me a kingdom to rule, psychic powers, and an invulnerable body. But it was a female one. Goddess, the mission you have given me appeals to my sense of adventure and my ambition, but I accept my destiny in part because I have no choice. To be honest, I am also a little afraid of you. Nonetheless, I place my trust in you. It's only natural, daughter, for you to have fears and doubts at the beginning. That will pass. Tell me more about my nation, Persephone. The Homunculi, daughter, have Oriental eyes, high cheekbones, dark brown skins, shiny black hair, and pointed ears. The ears, however, are pointed at the back, not the top. They are only slightly smaller than ordinary humans, averaging about four feet eight inches tall. You resemble them in appearance except for retaining your former height. You are also somewhat taller than the average Roman woman. My daughter, you are a striking figure. How are my people governed now? They live in scattered villages on the mountainsides, she explained. Each has its own chief. Nothing unites them except the hope that a deliverer will come and lead them to safety, independence, and glory in the world. Goddess, I thank you for giving me this task. I will not fail you. Trust in me, daughter, and you shall triumph. Male or female, I could do a lot of good in a primitive, crumbling world like this one. If I moved wisely, I could preserve the best of the Classical Civilization of which faltering Rome had been the guardian. I could prevent the Dark Ages. I would invent a few things too. Electricity? Steam power? The possibilities were endless. I now drew near to the entrance to a temple of Hades, Persephone, and Demeter. I could see the young Homuncula (that is, a Homunculan woman) sitting at the entrance. She was of average height for her people, very young and of delicate build. From scanning her brain, I knew that she was the junior priestess here. The temple maintained a vigil day and night, to watch for the long-awaited Queen and greet her when she arrived. This young priestess, who had the late night watch, would no longer have to sleep during the day. Despite my nakedness and discomfort, I dropped my hands, straightened my back, and held my head high. A new Queen must make a regal beginning. Seeing me approach, the little priestess stood up. Oh, the poor thing, she was thinking, she must have been assaulted and stripped by brigands. She certainly is tall. "Visitor," she announced, "I offer you the hospitality of the temple. You need clothes and a warm bed for the night. By Hades and Persephone, you shall have them." "My name is Yunyat Bentat Persepun, and I am your Queen," I announced. The Queen, she thought. Can this be true? The little priestess raised both her hands, palms forward, as a sign of greeting. "If you are indeed the Queen whose coming was foretold," she said, "I greet you in the name of Hades and Persephone, whose temple this is." "Your name is Awrelyat," I observed. She shot me a startled look through the torch light. She read my mind, she was thinking. I noted with delight that I could indeed read her mind. "I am prepared to prove that I come in fulfillment of the ancient prophecy," I replied, enjoying my new voice. It sounded like a Queen's voice, feminine but authoritative. "Come with me. We shall awaken the High Priestess, and put you to the test." It didn't offend me that I would face an ordeal. No doubt impostor Queens had come here before. She stopped. I read her mind: I can't let her suffer from the cold like this. Awrelyat removed the homespun cloak from her shoulders and offered it to me. I thanked her and wrapped it over my shoulders. It didn't cover me below the waist. Seeing this, she began to loosen the one of the broaches that fastened the top of her dress. The dress she was wearing was of a type called the "peplos," common throughout ancient Europe from Britannia to Greece. "Awrelyat, please! I shall be adequately clothed when I prove who I am. You needn't expose yourself to the cold of the night. Besides, that would hardly fit me." "I could wrap it around Your Majesty's waist." "I forbid you to endanger your health for my sake. You can serve me better if you maintain your health." "My Queen, you are shivering! And to go naked is undignified." The Classical civilization was tolerant of public nudity on the athletic field, but that was not where I was. "The sooner you get me indoors, Awrelyat, the sooner I shall be warm. And as for my dignity, do I look undignified to you?" I straightened my shoulders and elevated my chin. "To the contrary. Your Majesty carries herself like a goddess. Please come with me." How noble of her, I heard her thinking, to put my health ahead of her own. The temple was a small building, about fifteen by thirty feet, and with a low roof. Removing one of the torches from the wall of it, she led me behind it to a larger one-story building with several entrances. The priest and priestess who served the temple lived here. Awrelyat entered one of the doors, and lit a small oil lamp on the table with her torch. I stooped to enter the low doorway. Inside, my head scraped the wooden ceiling. "I have the honor to offer Your Majesty my own quarters for the night," she said, motioning me to a seat. "Thank you, Awrelyat." I took her chair and stretched my legs across the floor. It was a primitive world I had entered: no electricity, no running water, no refrigerated food, and no motor vehicles. At least I had entered it as a monarch. The furnishings of the room were as austere as a monk's cell. There was a low futon-like bed (too short for me), and a wooden chest, which contained what few other clothes the little priestess owned. There were four scrolls on the table, together with an inkpot and three quill pens. Unlike most of her people, Awrelyat was literate. She removed a homespun blanket from the bed and presented it to me. "Robes of state appropriate to Your Majesty have been made, but they are not here. For the moment, please wrap yourself in this blanket to keep off some of the night's chill. It will be warmer tomorrow. Summer is coming." She smiled. "Thank you once again." I smiled back. I handed her back her cloak, and I wrapped the blanket around my body, keeping my hands inside to warm them. The feel of the homespun cloth reminded me how much softer a woman's skin is than a man's. The blanket tickled my nipples gently. These were both pleasant, and almost erotic, feelings. "I must now excuse myself, My Queen, to rouse the High Priest and High Priestess. It will take a while for them to get dressed. In the meantime, Your Majesty is welcome to read some of my books." She motioned to the scrolls on the table. She smiled again, more broadly. I liked her smile, even though she was slightly buck-toothed. I heard Awrelyat thinking: I never felt this way about another woman before. I can hardly bear to leave her presence. The junior priestess bowed low to me. "I shall always remember you, Awrelyat, as the first and most loyal of my subjects. I grant you leave to summon them." Her entire face lit up with joy. She turned to go. As the door closed behind her, plans for the future of my country began to fill my head. Once I consolidated my rule, I would inspire useful inventions. Clear glass already existed. Lens grinding for telescopes and microscopes would come next. I would teach all the local healers where infections came from. My subjects would dig latrines in their backyards instead of defecating in the garden. In the long run, the steam engine and the electric battery were not impossible. I glanced through Awrelyat's books. They all concerned mythological or ritual subjects, and showed how deeply Hellenized the Homunculi had become, despite their Asian origin and the long distance they had migrated from Greece. In Greek mythology, Hades was the god of the dead and of the underworld, but not a devil. His name would not become an alternate name of Hell until much later. Hades and his bride Persephone were widely worshipped as fertility deities. The Romans called them Pluto and Proserpina. I put the scrolls back, and realized that it was a dangerous world out there. I would have to be a general as well as a Queen. Fortunately, I knew quite a lot of ancient history, including the history of ancient warfare. Unfortunately, my people were of such small stature they wouldn't last long in hand-to-hand fighting with the Allemanni. Since we had few horses, the Huns would ride us down on the battlefield. I would probably have to resort to guerrilla tactics, or invent gunpowder and revolutionize warfare. Was there a local source of sulfur? Alas, my mental powers didn't include dowsing for minerals. Anyway, I now knew my mind-reading powers worked. I bowed my head and made a silent prayer to Hades and Persephone, thanking them for summoning me to this world to reign over these little people, and asking for wisdom so I could govern them well. I had responsibilities now. My people would be counting on me to lead them to glory. I have heard your prayer, precious daughter, Persephone called back to me. Put your trust in me, and all will be well with you and your people. A fond memory from my past intruded, of a seaside vacation with my ex-girlfriend Cindy, of a coupling on the beach by moonlight. She had taught me many ways to stimulate the part of her body she freely called her cunt. I had used my tongue, lips, and fingers as well as my penis. I had lain there watching in envy as oceans of bliss washed over her and then gradually receded. Judging by her shrill yelps, I had counted six orgasms. Later she insisted there were eight. I readily admitted my envy, for which she kissed me and thanked me for helping her. Cindy was a wonderful girl, but a few months later we drifted apart. How could I have suspected on that night of passion that only three years later I too would be a woman? I reached under the blanket and found the hair on my Mound of Venus. Reaching further down, I found the cleft between my labia. It felt good to stroke it with my finger. Moving my forefinger upwards, I found my clitoris. There were definite erotic possibilities here, but when I tried to imagine a man's penis entering me here, a shudder ran through me. Goddess, don't expect me ever to get a husband and start a family. I couldn't endure having sex with a man. It may not be necessary, daughter, for you to found a dynasty. But that is for another time. First, let's get you onto your throne. My fingers moved back up to my mound. I felt like a young girl asking her mother for sexual advice. Goddess, will this strange thing ever be a part of me? You have a strong erotic nature, daughter. Experiment with yourself. Awrelyat wants to help me with that, I thought back. Would I disappoint you, Goddess, if I became a Lesbian? Not at all, precious Yunyat. Some of my sisters, Artemis and Athena, enjoy that sort of pleasure, or have in the past. Your people will not judge you unworthy for it, even though most of their women are not so inclined. Such matters must wait for another time, daughter. Awrelyat is returning with the High Priest and High Priestess to put you to the test. There have been false Queens before now. You will pass the ordeals, never fear. Remember that if they ask you about your family, or why you came naked, tell them I have instructed you to say nothing of your ancestry, except that you are my daughter. The details would simply confuse them too much. Above all, do not call yourself a goddess or allow them to treat you as one. Duly noted, Goddess, I thought back. I had been alone for about an hour, when the little priestess returned with her two superiors and introduced them to me. The High Priestess was named Sergit Awgustat, or as a Roman would have said it, Sergia Augusta. I read her mind: May Persephone grant that our long wait is over. She was a woman of ample proportions and kindly disposition, and looked slightly older than her husband. Her hair was gray and thin. She was carrying a large wine-cup before her, of the ancient kind called "crater" by the Greeks. From the way she carried it, I guessed there was liquid in it. Her husband the High Priest was named Yuli Hadi, which was Homunculan for Julius the devotee of Hades. He looked to be every day of sixty, quite bald and with a thick, wispy, gray beard. The look in his eye was skeptical, even pugnacious. I scanned him too: I have seen impostor Queens before, he was thinking, and I know Awrelyat to be a na?ve hero-worshipper. As their Queen, I received them seated. I read in the Priest's thoughts that he considered this presumptuous. Instead of mentioning that, he said, "Yunyat Bentat Persepun, we offer you the hospitality of the temple this night, regardless of whether you are who you claim to be." I saw Awrelyat scowling, and glanced into her brain. He addresses our Queen like a commoner, she complained to herself. No matter, she will convince him soon enough. The High Priest eyed me closely. "My wife and I find it curious that you came to us naked. Would you care to explain that?" "Persephone has commanded me, Yuli, to tell nothing of my past, not even what happened in the last hour before I came," I replied. "My guess would be," Awrelyat ventured, "clothing isn't necessary in the Great Abyss where Yunyat has dwelt till now with her divine mother Persephone." "Then you are Persephone's daughter, Yunyat?" asked the priest. "Yes." "Who was your father?" "The nation's destiny, not my past, is my concern, Yuli." She may be the daughter of a goddess, but she is also a bastard, Priest Yuli was thinking. She will have no family bias, Priestess Sergit was thinking, in disputes between the clans. That could be an advantage. Awrelyat turned to Yuli. "Can she not be the daughter Persephone and Hades both?" she suggested. "That would make her a goddess." Awrelyat glanced at me with wonder in her eyes. "I am not a goddess. I shall die someday. I forbid anyone to address me or refer to me as a goddess, lest they incur both my wrath and that of my divine mother." "It would be hubris," said High Priestess Sergit. The answer of an honest and ethical person, Priest Yuli was thinking. She may be the real thing. "As a token of our hospitality," said the High Priestess, "accept from us this cup of wine." As I took the crater, I scanned both of their minds. Sergit was thinking, I do hope she's the one. I would be wonderful to have this happen in my lifetime. Yuli was thinking, the dash of hemlock in this wine will soon tell us if she can be poisoned. It will indeed, I thought. Goddess, I place my life in your hands. I drank more than half of it. It had a tangy taste and an excellent bouquet. There was also a bitter aftertaste as it went over the back of my tongue. That was the poison. Suddenly I lurched forward, pitching the blanket onto the floor, and bolted to the door. Unlatching it, I leaned outdoors and spewed into the night air. "Hemlock," I said. "I cannot be poisoned. My body instantly rejects all poisons." "Which fulfills the prophecy," said Awrelyat proudly. I stepped back into the room. Behind me, I heard the little priestess' thoughts: right through the kidneys. Awrelyat threw herself at me with all her strength. The force of the blow nearly knocked me off balance. I felt a slight pricking sensation in my lower back, near my right kidney. The dagger slipped from her hands and clattered to the floor. "She is truly our Queen!" said Sergit the High Priestess. Awrelyat immediately picked up the blanket from the floor and wrapped it around me. "Thanks be unto Hades and Persephone!" declared the High Priest. He held up both his hands like Awrelyat had earlier, but I saw his knees shaking beneath his long tunic. The Queen will punish me for doubting her, he was thinking. All three of them bowed low. Curtseying, a Medieval invention, still lay in the future. If I carried out my mission, there would be a very different future ahead for this parallel Earth. "Fear not, Yuli Hadi," I said. "By putting all claimants to the throne to the test, you and your wife have shown your loyalty to your true Queen. You did not recognize me at the start, but it is enough that you recognize me now." I regarded all three of them in a glance. As she straightened up, Awrelyat was weeping for joy. This is the happiest day of my life, she was thinking. Our Queen has come, and I had the honor of greeting her first. "You three are the beginning of my kingdom," I said. "What is Your Majesty's further pleasure?" asked Yuli. "I will retire for the night. I will sleep here." "Very well," said Sergit. "Awrelyat will lodge with us." "I will have her lodge with me, if she chooses," I announced. "I am honored to attend you in any way I can," said the little priestess, wiping away her tears of joy with a hand. Yuli turned to his wife. "Let us also return to bed. Tomorrow is a momentous day, when we celebrate the crowning of our Queen." Good-nights were exchanged, and they left us. Awrelyat picked up the dagger. "I knew it wouldn't hurt you, my Queen, but my colleagues needed to be convinced." "And so they were. Let us sleep now." I unwrapped myself and spread the blanket over Awrelyat's bed. There were no other bedclothes. As she was unfastening her peplos, I remembered those pointed ears Persephone had mentioned. The points pointed backwards, not upwards, and the Homunculi were only slightly shorter than other humans, but their name did indeed mean "little people" in Latin. So this was the nucleus of truth behind all the European folklore about elves, dwarfs, fairies, sprites, and gnomes. Goddess, I thought to her as I climbed into bed, you've made me the Elf-Queen. Indeed, daughter. The Wee Folk existed on your parallel-Earth too. They but were exterminated during the barbarian migrations, but they lived on in folk traditions that made them even shorter. I feel certain, daughter, you will prevent that from happening this time. Awrelyat blew out the lamp and stepped into bed beside me. The homespun blanket failed to reach my feet, which were sticking out in the cool air. Silent darkness was all around us. Persephone spoke to me in my head. I'm very proud of you, daughter. You passed the first test. As for Awrelyat, she will serve you well. She has high ideals and is quite intelligent, but she idolizes you and is very young. Do not use her merely for sex. Treat her with kindness and consideration. I will, Goddess. I will. Awrelyat's voice came to me out of the darkness. "My loyalty to you, my Queen, is beyond measure and will never end." "I have one more service to require of you before we sleep," I whispered. "It will be a pleasant one, which I hope you will enjoy as much as I will." I tickled one of her nipples with my hand. Then I kissed her on the mouth, as the hand gently stroked her back, all the way down to her small but nicely rounded buttocks. One of her tiny nimble hands caressed my breasts, while the other worked its way down my abdomen, into my pubic hair, and then into the cleft whose existence had seemed so horrible to me an hour ago. I let her do it. THE END Copyright (c) 2001, by Norman O. Johnson ([email protected]). This file may be freely archived, copied, transmitted, and redistributed, provide that it remains in its original form with all warnings, copyright, author credit, and other info intact. It may NOT be distributed for profit or sold for profit, except by the author, Norman O. Johnson.