SRU Reforming the Brat
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SRU: The Pardon free porn video
A version of this story appeared on Big Closet and on
Sapphire's TG Fiction List. It may be added to other free
archives as long as it does not violate Bill Hart's
strictures on the use of his characters or my own notice at
the bottom of the story.
SRU: The Pardon
By Lainie Lee
The shabbily dressed man hurrying through the holiday
shopping crowd slipped into the first door he came to. Hal
David figured it must be a side corridor into service areas
of the mall where he could hide for a bit. The little bells
ringing took him by surprise; it was a shop?
He looked around, a weird, dimly lit little shop full of
odd things. A very lifelike carved and painted leprechaun
perched on a toadstool the size of a hassock. A lacquered
fan bearing the image of a Chinese dragon adorned with a
forked beard like a Cossack. A brass demiurge carrying a
basket full of haddock. A porcelain stallion standing in a
miniature gilded paddock.
He shook his head in wonder, what the hell was a demiurge,
anyway?
"It's a magical being, sort of an angel or a fairy or a
djinn; but not quite any of those--more powerful and much
to be feared, a maker of worlds," said a voice.
Hal looked up, an old man wearing a dingy bathrobe blinked
at him owlishly from the end of the aisle. Hal didn't think
he had spoken his question aloud but he must have, how else
could the old man have answered him?
"Yes, you must have," agreed the wizard. "Otherwise, I'd
have to be a mind reader, wouldn't I, Hal? Now, get out of
here. We're not open yet, it's hardly half past the
Cenozoic."
Puzzled by that remark, Hal glanced at an ornate clock
showing the faces of the Oriental moon; it read a quarter
'til two. "I'm sorry, I didn't even know this was a shop,"
said Hal. He meant to ask how the old man knew his name but
the fellow interrupted him.
"I just told you," the grumpiest old man said. "Now, again,
get out. It's much too early for me to be working, I need
my rest. I've got carpetlag from visiting my cousins in
Wonderland and Oz; Trellia can make you tired just
listening to her twining her tales around her branches." He
yawned, showing more and better teeth than could have been
expected in the mouth of someone who looked older than the
sort of oak planks that have been seasoned long enough to
be hard as stone.
"I beg your pardon," began Hal, growing more and more
confused. Had the old man said Australia? Had he said
Wonderland? Had he said tales or tails? Had he really said
Cenozoic? Had Hal known the bronze figurine was a demiurge
when he didn't even know what a demiurge was?
"You beg my pardon, do you?" scowled the wizard. "What have
you done? And it's brass, bronze would be redder more than
goldener. Golden. More golden. Now you've got me doing it."
"Doing what?" asked Hal cautiously.
"Thinking like a mortal idiot," growled the wizard. "So,
you want my pardon? But am I the one you committed a crime
against?"
Hal's heart froze. This old man scared him, he knew too
much and....
"And I really can read minds," warned the wizard. "So don't
even try anything, I'll turn you into a snuffbox shaped
like a toad and fill you full of flies faster than you can
say remacadamize."
Hal stepped back. The wizard stepped forward; sparks like
miniature lightning glanced from his eyes. "I never done
nothing to you!" Hal said, taking another step toward the
door. Even the mall security cops seemed less threatening
that this crazy old man with eyebrows like thunderheads.
"Meaning you've done everything!" stormed the wizard
advancing like a cold front with scattered flurries of ire.
"You just hadn't got around to it, had you? Casing the
joint? If you came in here to nibble on my cheese, you will
regret it."
"Cheese!?" Hal's eyes could not get wider and if his bowels
got any looser he would need to change pants. "No, no, I'm
a dip not a booster!" What was he saying?
"You're a pickpocket not a shoplifter? I should turn you
into a rooster, or something worse. That's not a pocket
you're carrying under your arm, it's a purse. Is that your
swag?"
Hal nodded nervously, a tic so violent he almost couldn't
talk. "I tried the dip but I had to snatch the bag; Miss
Mark twigged and I thought she'd roust the heat. I just ran
in here 'cause I didn't want to get nicked."
The old man put a finger beside his nose and smiled.
"Looking for Easy Street is asking to get tricked. You're a
thief and a rascal, your crimes are many and various. You
asked for my pardon. Why should I give it to one so
nefarious?"
"I'm not a bad guy," said Hal in a weak voice. "It's just
sometimes, I don't seem to have a choice?"
"Next you'll be blaming your peers for leading you into a
life of crime," scoffed the wizard. "This will be your
third strike, you're looking at twenty-five years. Don't
commit the offense if you can't do the time."
Hal staggered. The old guy was right. "I'm forty two now, I
can't go to jail again, I'd be older than dirt if I lived
that long," he protested. "You won't turn me in?"
"You're singing the wrong song. You've never repented, you
feel no remorse. You steal and you lie as a matter of
course. Still, I will say, in your defense, you've never
used a gun, not even a knife."
"I ain't going to neither! Even though nothing has never
gone right in my life," said the miscreant sadly. "But it
ain't true that I'm not sorry for what I've done. Sometimes
I feel bad."
"Badly," corrected the wizard. "Don't add bad grammar to
the list of your sins. I'm a wizard, nothing more; not a
syntax collector, among the many things I'm not; neither
father confessor, nor window dresser, not chicken inspector
nor what I said before!" He hit a high note and held it for
a moment.
Hal just stared at him, too stunned to be amazed.
The wizard took a deep breath and sang rapidly, "I am the
very model of a modern magi venerable, with incantations
that will turn a mortal into animal, vegetable or mineral.
And while I sometimes do indulge in stunts a bit
theatrical, I've never quite before descended to the
operatical."
"What never?" sang the chorus.
"Wrong play," said the wizard, "And that is just about
enough of that. See what happens when you wake me up before
I've had my wisdom nap? We almost fell out of reality into
a Gilbert and Sullivan universe." He shuddered and made his
beard quiver indignantly.
"I'll just leave now," offered Hal. He looked around
nervously for the chorus. Where had they come from and
where had they gone?
"No," said the wizard. "You begged my pardon and I haven't
quite got around to giving you that boon. What's in the
purse?"
"I--I hadn't looked yet?" Hal put the handbag on one of the
counters and opened it up. "Uh, it's full of jewelry and
makeup, most of it still on the store cards." He grinned
sheepishly, "What do you know, Miss Mark was a booster!"
The wizard nodded thoughtfully, "There is no honor among
thieves after all. You stole someone else's swag. She never
rousted the heat but probably took a powder out the other
end of the mall." He looked into an invisible distance
briefly then nodded in satisfaction. "In fact, the little
lady is on the bus now, cursing her luck."
"This is schlock," said Hal, examining the loot. "She was
young, probably a thrill junkie. You know, stealing just
for the high she gets?"
"And what about you, Hal? Why do you steal? It surely
hasn't gotten you the good things in life?" The wizard
looked over Hal's shabby clothes and runover sneakers.
"I get by," said Hal defensively. "Well, most of the time?"
"You mean when you're not living off crime you're living
off charity," the old man drove the sad truth home with a
sneer. "Are you sure you want my pardon, you
inconsequential recidivist?"
Hal had no idea what that last part meant but he protested
again, "I ain't never done nothing to you!"
"A triple negative makes all come out even but I warned you
once already about bad grammar. I'll give you my pardon,
Henry Ambrose David, if you truly want it."
Hal felt his face collapse around his fear; he knew now
that he had stumbled into something as dangerous as being
the witness to a mob hit. He nodded cautiously, "Whatever
you say, I don't want no more trouble." 'Getalong Hal',
that's what they had called him in prison. He began backing
toward the door again.
"My pardon," the wizard insisted. "Do you want it?"
"Yes!" said Hal, his terror once again threatening to
loosen his sphincters. "Yes, please?" His habit of polite
respect to figures of authority granted his speech more
grace than he usually possessed.
"Freely asked and freely given," said the Wizard. "I pardon
you, Hal, from your life of crime and despair. You need a
second chance, a new start and someone to guide you and
give you moral instruction." The old man gestured with two
fingers and spoke a word in a language no one in Hal's
world had ever spoken before.
The changes came so quickly they left Hal breathless. He
felt his slight paunch shrink, his bald spot disappear. His
beard stubble melted into his skin, as did most of body
hair. His limbs became slender, his shoulders narrow and
his waist narrower still.
"What's happening?" he asked in a small voice that ended in
a squeak because his voice box had suddenly changed. His
eyebrows thinned as the hair on his head grew down to his
shoulders, then to his waist, then braided itself into two
pigtails. His height dwindled till he was no taller than a
child. His lips grew softer and rounder as his nose grew
shorter and smaller. His balls retracted into his abdomen
and his penis shrank to a tiny button. At least, that's
what it felt like had happened.
His clothes began to change, too; his ratty jacket became a
red blazer and his food-stained shirt became a pretty white
blouse with simple ruffles at the neck and wrists. His
hands, slim and graceful now, reached up to feel his new
face. The dirty boxers in the once-blue pants he wore
became sparkling white cotton panties under a plaid skirt.
His threadbare socks and worthless sneakers turned into
white knee-high stockings and penny loafers.
He felt a slit open into a new place between where his
balls used to be. Thing churned disturbingly inside him.
His now youthful, feminine voice cried out again, "What's
happening?" just as small pubescent breasts sprouted on his
chest. Her chest.
Little gold earrings shaped like hearts flew out of the
stolen purse and pierced her ears. "Ouch?" she yelped. The
wizard chuckled.
"What did you do to me?" she asked in a tiny schoolgirl
voice. Tiny was right, the wizard towered more than a foot
over her now.
"Given you a new opportunity to learn proper behavior,"
said the wizard. "I pardoned you right back to when you
first stole something in the fifth grade. We won't count
the jelly beans."
"I--I'm..." she stammered.
"You're ten, and you're an orphan in a Catholic girls'
school," the wizard informed her and she knew it was true.
"The nuns are good to you but they're very strict, if they
catch you with a purse full of stolen doodads, you won't be
able to sit down for a week."
She backed away from the handbag, "I don't want it!" Her
hands flew to her ears, remembering that the earrings from
the bag had made now-healed holes in her lobes.
"You can keep those," said the wizard. "You had a little
money in your pockets, from doing chores. I'll see that the
rest of this stuff gets back to where it belongs." The bag
and swag therein vanished with a modest, if slightly
indecent sounding, "Poo-oot!"
"I'm a girl?" she asked, one hand feeling of her chest and
the other pressing her skirt to her thigh. Soft brown hair
in long braids tied with ribbons, clear rosy complexion
blushing in her confusion, neat little school uniform and
long coltish legs, she didn't yet know what an adorable
little pixie she had become.
The wizard smiled at her, his ancient face creasing in
lines of benevolent amusement. "Yes, you are. You'd better
go, you don't want to spoil your outing by being late back
to the bus. Your friends will be waiting for you."
"I've got friends," she said wondering and she knew their
names, Karen and Cindy and little Sarah who talked with a
lisp and couldn't say her own name plainly. The nuns would
get Sarah speech therapy, just like they had gotten braces
for Cindy's teeth. "What's my name?" she asked.
"You're Alison Hildegard Stuckey, and you're going to hear
Sister Elisabeth Mark calling that name out if you don't
get going." The old man made shooing motions and she
drifted toward the door.
"Stuckey? My sister married a man named Stuckey years ago,"
she murmured. But the memories of Hal David seemed like
something she had seen in an old movie.
"That's right, they were killed in a car wreck on their
honeymoon; only this time it happened after they had lived
long enough to have a daughter. You're your own niece,
Heidi."
She smiled and almost giggled. Heidi for Hildegard because
there was already an Alison in her grade at school. She
liked it and her pigtails bounced with her pleasure. Her
blue eyes danced and she gave the old man a wide smile,
showing the gap where she had lost a tooth only last month.
"Go," said the wizard, raising his arms like a conductor.
"They'll put you on restriction if you're late. Those nuns
are tough. I wouldn't want to mess with them." Which was
true, religious with a true vocation had a power proof
against wizard spells. He could only affect them indirectly
as he had done now, and only if he worked no harm.
This particular order took in children that weren't even
Catholic; since Heidi's mother had been Jewish they would
offer her the opportunity to study her heritage in a few
years. The wizard looked forward to see his latest client
growing up to become a teacher herself, and a wife and
mother before discovering an unknown love of music and
talent for songwriting in her old age. At least, that was
one possible path the future could take.
In the there and then, ten-year-old Heidi spun quickly,
sending her pigtails flying. The little bells jingled as
she paused at the door. "Should I thank you?" she asked,
looking back.
"You should. I've given you the opportunity to grow up to
be something other than a sad little thief; take care and
do it right this time. The nuns will show you the way and
correct you if you get off the path."
Somehow it all made sense to her--all fear had dropped away
and she felt only awe and wonderment. And gratitude. "Thank
you, sir," she said politely, discovering that she knew how
to curtsey. The bells jingled joyfully again as she shut
the door behind her.
"You're quite welcome," said the wizard, purposefully a
beat too late.
"Who were you talking to?" asked Dannie coming up behind
him.
The old man looked at his latest apprentice, "Just a little
girl who had lost her way; she was polite and begged my
pardon, so I gave it to her." He kept the smile out of his
voice and off his face though he knew she could sense his
satisfaction.
"You gave someone something," Dannie said doubtfully,
yawning the sleep out of her own voice. She looked to be in
her teens, a shapely girl who had once been a client of the
strange old man herself. She stretched, deliciously unaware
of how she looked when she did that. Sometimes she reminded
the old man of a cat. Now she smiled a question at her
boss.
"Freely asked and freely given; even the devil knows the
path to heaven," said the wizard mysteriously.
"Oh. Okay," Dannie didn't feel curious anymore. "I'm
hungry. Are all the mastodons dead already?"
===
Copyright 2002 by Lainie Lee; The Spell'R'Us characters and
store are the intellectual property of Bill Hart, used by
permission. This story may be displayed on websites that do
not charge a fee and do not require membership to view
stories as long as other SRU stories also appear on the
website and this notice appears. A courtesy email to
[email protected] would be appreciated. Not for
distribution to internet news channels (except by me, Joyce
Melton or Bill Hart) or any for-fee distribution. Hard
copies may be made for personal use only.
Nova
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