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Revenge of the Real Girls by: Debbie L. Author?s Note: This story was written back in the fall of 1998. It was written as a thank-you note to all of the authors who were posting to the TGFiction list and to Fictionmania. It was posted to the TGFiction list in five parts over several days. Until now it has never appeared as one complete work. This story features a number of authors who write TG Fiction regularly. If any of them object to having their "nom de plume" used in this story, contact this author at [email protected] and they will be edited out (None of them objected at the time, hopefully none of them do now). This is a work of parody and should be treated as such. No permission to archive, copy, distribute or disseminate this story is given (except for permission granted to Fictionmania.tv for posting there. Requests for permission should be sent to the author at the aforementioned email address. No works may be written using characters created for and derivative of this story without the author's permission. All other rights reserved. Also, thanks to Steve Z., as always for his editing. Note from the editor: Many of the authors mentioned have been not heard from since back then. Likewise, many more authors have joined the older ones who are mentioned here and are still writing. (SteveZ) * * * * * * No one knew whose idea it had been originally. But everyone who was on their way to attend had agreed that it was the best idea ever. It was a gathering of the writers and fans of TG Fiction, along with their significant others. Anyone else who had TG interests or desires was welcome. Every room in the small town had been reserved, and the local populace prepared in advance for the arrival of their guests, who would be spending all day Friday, Saturday and Sunday with them, before departing for home. Most of the guests flew in Thursday night to the big metropolis, arriving at the nearby international airport. They spent the night at nearby hotels, before getting up Friday morning for the two hour bus ride to Egnever. The people of Egnever were glad to see their guests, eager for the commerce they would bring. The first bus arrived just after nine on Friday morning. Betsy Daire, president of the Egnever Chamber of Commerce, and the brains behind using this town as the site for the event, met the bus. As the arriving guests got off the bus (why is it you deplane, but you don't debus or deauto?) she insisted on shaking everyone's hand. To her surprise, most of the men were dressed just as that, men. When she asked Terrence Broughton about this, he laughed. "Sweetie, we had no idea where this bus might stop before it got here. Trust me, most of the actual dressers will be dressing before too long." "Not all?" "Nope. Some of them don't dress at all. Some just write the fiction, others just read it, and some just like to be around those who dress. We're not a judgmental lot. We accept anyone and everyone. And we're so lucky, this bus has some of the finest creators of TG fiction ever onboard. I even got to hear the Professor talk about his future plans for Ovid, and I can't wait to read what he's going to do next." "Who is the Professor, and who or what is Ovid?" "Honey, just let me get settled, and I'll tell you all about the Professor, Morpheus, Raven, Cleo Craft, and all the other heroes of readers like me." It took several hours before all the guests had arrived, and were checked into their rooms. Betsy was finally taking a well-deserved break for a cup of coffee when a red-haired woman approached her table. "Mind if I join you?" "Why no, Miss..." It hit Betsy suddenly. This woman was the man she'd spoken with before. "What do I call you now?" "It's funny, you'd think a man named Terrence would want to be called Terri. But that's not the way it works for a lot of us. When I'm dressed, I'm Felice." "Well, Felice, you were going to explain a few things to me." "Right. First, let's get the definitions and labels thing out of the way. Some of us are okay with that stuff, but others think it's a pile of crap, and hate it with a passion. Me, I don't care much one way or another." Felice paused to order a white wine, and then looked back at Betsy. "Oh yes, labels. Do you know anything about TG, or what it is?" "Aside from the fact some of you dress like women, not a thing." "Well, TG stands for Transgender, which means as many things as there are people defining it. There are lots of terms, and I'll teach a few of them to you. Transsexual is a person who believes they were born in the wrong body. A male-to-female transsexual, for example, or TS for short, has the body of a man, but believes that she is a woman. Now if she chooses to live with her condition, then she's just a TS. If she begins the process of becoming a woman, or transitioning to use the right buzz word, she's a Pre-Op TS." Betsy looked puzzled and asked, "Pre-op?" "Preoperative, or before the final step in the transition, the sex change operation, or as they call it, SRS for short. SRS standing for Sexual Reassignment Surgery. They cut off...well, you don't need all the details of how it works. Then you've got your transvestite. That's just another label, and it paints with a broad brush. It is supposed to mean a person who gets sexual gratification from wearing the clothes of, or taking on the appearance of, a member of the opposite gender. Of course now, that's the definition my abnormal psych professor forced on us. Anyway, lots of people fall into that label. They dress, like me. I'm a TV, or cross dresser, or any other label you want to use. The ones I don't understand are the readers." Betsy had to go to the restroom at that point, and when she came back, Felice was reapplying her lipstick. It struck Betsy as being perfectly normal, a woman applying her lipstick. She realized she was beginning to think of Felice as another girl, and while it shouldn't have bothered her, it did. "Where was I? Oh yes, readers. There are a number of men out there, who read the stories on the Internet about TG things, but who don't dress up themselves. It's a relatively new phenomenon, since the Internet grew into such a widely used medium, although there have always been writers and readers of TG Fiction. But now that we've got our own little newsgroup, it's just growing and growing. I get new stories in my email every single day, and oh, they are just the best." "That's amazing. Can I read some?" "Why sure. Do you have a computer with a modem, and access to the net in you office?" "I sure do." "Then honey, let's go log onto Fictionmania, and get you to reading." They walked over to Betsy's office, and once she was set up and logged onto Fictionmania, Felice went to one of the many meetings scheduled for the day. It was after dinner when Betsy ran into Felice again, at a cocktail party being given at the hotel by the owner of a website that sells clothing to men who dress as women. "Felice, that was amazing. Can you tell me about all those writers now?" "Sure thing hon, let me get another drink, and we'll enjoy some girl talk." They each picked up a fresh white wine from the bartender, who winked at Felice as he poured. Then they found a corner and settled in to talk. "Now the Professor, some of us think he's the best. You'll get others who disagree, and goodness knows, trying to figure out who the best is can set us girls to fighting like alley-cats. But I love Ovid, and I especially loved his latest, the Former Girls Club. Then there is Morpheus, who just writes wonderful stories, some in the Spells R Us universe, and others that he seems to create out of nothingness. I love them. At this afternoon's meeting, I sat next to Cleo Kraft; did you read any of her stories?" "Yes, and what was that meeting about?" "Oh, it was a meeting of the fans of Spells R Us, and a chance for questions and answers with Bill Hart, who started that whole universe some three years ago. It's really amazing how it has grown, and how magical some of the stories that are written there can be. Anyway, Cleo was telling me..." Felice was interrupted by the arrival of her own wife, Alice. "Felice, who is this poor woman you've captured and held hostage?" "Alice, let me introduce you to Betsy, who is the head of the Chamber of Commerce, and the genius behind this weekend." "Nice to meet you, Betsy, may I borrow my wife here for a little while?" "Actually, I should be going, there are other parties and gatherings to make appearances at." "All right, Betsy, but I'll finish the story later." The next morning's events started with a general meeting of all attendees and their wives who wanted to come, in the auditorium. The place was packed, as Betsy took to the stage to introduce the honored guests, and Mistress of Ceremonies. But before she could walk from her chair on the dais to the podium, a group stormed in from backstage. They held guns on guests in the room, and more of them appeared at all of the entrances to the room, sealing it off. One of them stepped to the podium. He pulled off his hood to reveal himself as Robert Patterson, a leader in the religious movement in the country. "Good morning, ladies and pretend ladies. I am here on behalf of the wives of those of you who are here alone, the wives of men and mothers of boys all over the country, who are tired of finding that their men have been borrowing their clothes, or doing goodness only knows what other nasty things with clothes, or with trashy stories they read on the Internet. We're here to mete out a bit of justice this morning, aided by my temporary ally, Algenon Hiss, leader of a movement of Pagans who practice the black arts of magic. Algenon will be dispensing some justice to a number of you this morning, before he and our followers release you. It may be a wild morning, so just sit down, relax and enjoy the show. Algenon, it's all yours." A dark figure, wearing robes and a wizard's hat, stepped up to the podium. "Cleo Kraft, step forward and receive justice." Cleo, showing no signs of outward fear, stepped to the stage. "Now, Cleo, let me read a letter that one of Robert's followers sent him. 'Dear Mister Patterson. I don't know what to do about my son. He is nineteen, and an A student at college. But whenever he comes home for a weekend, he spends hours logged onto the Internet. I came home recently, and found that he'd purchased a new toy from a store in the mall. A talking Eight-Ball. He would spend hours playing with it, and I didn't understand why until I borrowed his computer and read a story called 'Outlook Good'. While the writing was fantastically good, I couldn't help but wonder why my son keeps playing with that eight-ball, until it hit me. He was wishing to be a girl. I confronted my son, and he admitted to being a cross dresser. I told him how sick it was, and he shocked me with his answer. He said he didn't care what I thought. He said that what he chooses to do in his own private space, that doesn't involve anyone else, doesn't hurt anybody. Can you help?' Its signed, Concerned Mother." Algenon turned to Cleo, who was smiling, as any writer would who has heard their work called fantastically good. "Do you have anything to say in your own defense, Cleo?" Cleo said nothing, standing there defiantly. Algenon reached into his robe and pulled out an eight-ball, just like in the story. "I'm wishing that Cleo would turn into a nine- year-old girl, in a cute little Alice in Wonderland dress, with white tights and black patent leather Mary-Janes. Wonder what the ball will say?" He turned the ball over and read its answer. "Outlook Good." Cleo vanished, replaced by a girl who looked to be about nine, and dressed just like Algenon had described. "Take your seat, little girl, and enjoy the rest of the show." Still showing no signs of fear, Cleo walked back to her seat and sat down, crossing her little legs and folding her hands in her lap. Algenon spoke again. "Bloodspell Moone, step forward and receive justice." Bloodspell, cutting a graceful figure while walking down the aisle, stepped forward. "Do you believe in vampires?" "My beliefs are none of your business, interloper." "Well, you write about such creatures in your stories. I have another letter here. 'Dear Doctor Patterson. My husband has become obsessed with vampires. Ever since he started reading Transvamporia, stories about a man who becomes a female vampire, he can't seem to stop reading these and other stories, both about vampires and about men becoming women. He even insisted on dressing as a female vampire for Halloween. Now, I'll admit, the stories are good, and I was amazed at how nice my husband looked in a skirt and tights, but this isn't the life I wanted. Can you help?' Anything to say for yourself, Bloodspell?" Bloodspell, like Cleo, also refused to speak. "Your punishment I will administer in a way to go with your most recent writings." Algenon waved his hands, and Bloodspell was frozen in place. Algenon leaned over, and proceeded to bite Bloodspell's neck. Bloodspell's form wavered and shimmered, before shifting into the form of a woman who could only be the Cheyenne of the story Transvamporia. A gasp could be heard at the sight of one so beautiful. "Caution, little lady, you look like Cheyenne, but possess none of her vampire powers, so don't get any ideas of escape. Just sit down and watch." Algenon read from the list in his hand as Cheyenne, formerly the TG author Bloodspell Moone, went back to her seat. "Our next writer who will receive justice is Morpheus. Please come on down, and find out your fate. Maybe I'll turn this into a game show called, 'The Gender is Right, Now'." Algenon laughed wickedly at his own joke, as Morpheus walked slowly down the aisle. "Ah, Morpheus. The writer of many such stories, set all over in different universes. I debated long and hard after reading several letters about how wonderful your stories were, while complaining that the men who read them became lost in the fantasies you created. Then it hit me, the perfect answer was contained in your story, 'Prom Date'." Slowly, the body of Morpheus shifted in shape, until it was that of a high-school aged girl, clad in a slinky prom dress, with a long skirt, tight bodice firmly gripping her breasts, and with a slit up one side of the skirt, showing off those smooth, slender, silken-clad legs. Like her predecessors leaving the stage after Algenon's version of justice, Morpheus walked slowly to her seat, with a feminine grace clearly indicative of her new gender. "Our next victim is Steve Zink, and any fan of his will not be surprised by my decision about his fate." Steve walked to the stage, wearing a Batman and Robin T-shirt and denim jeans, to no one's surprise. "No, Steve, not Catwoman or Batgirl, or even Poison Ivy. Welcome to your new life as Lois Lane." Algenon waved, and Steve became a tall, slender woman, clad in a red business suit and black high heels. She clicked back to her seat, unconsciously pulling a reporter's notebook from her purse to record the events of the meeting for a story she'd file later. "If it pleases the Kangaroo Court here." Algenon turned to see who among the throng seated before him would question his justice. He saw the Professor standing there. "Professor, I wasn't ready for you, but since you insist on interrupting my proceedings, you may step forward and be next." The awe that many held the Professor in was easily sensed, as all eyes turned toward the person striding toward the stage. "Professor, for you I have a glass to drink. It is a glass much like that you wrote of in 'The Former Boys Club,' and once you drink it, you will become a member in good standing." The Professor held the glass and paused. "While I will drink, know that I have foreseen your future, and you will become a victim of your own justice before this weekend is out. I shall not say more." The Professor quaffed the contents of the glass, and found that she was now a teen-aged girl, dressed much the way Amanda of "The Former Boys Club" was, when she left the mysterious house. "Take your seat, young lady, and we will move on to our next victim, Bill Hart. Bill, please join me on stage." From a seat in the very back of the auditorium, the creator of the Spells R Us universe stepped forward. No one had given birth to a universe that had spawned as many stories, encouraged as many writers to set fingers to keyboard. But the favor and renown of Bill Hart were powerless against the black magic being wielded by Algenon. "You will not become a female, Bill Hart. Instead, I have a much better idea for you." Algenon reached into his robe and pulled out a wand, then pointed it at Bill's head. Frozen inside of a blue field of energy, Bill's body transmogrified into the shape of the old wizard who had changed the lives of so many who had walked through the doors of Spells R Us. "Again, like Cheyenne, you possess only the shape, and not the powers, of your literary creation." Robert Patterson stepped up and whispered something into Algenon's ear. "Yes, as long as we're on the subject of universe creators, let us not forget Jennifer Adams, who brought forth the Altered Fates universe. Oh Jennifer, please come join me on stage." Although terrified, Jennifer drew strength from the courageous displays of the authors who had gone to the stage thus far. Jennifer strode forward with a confidence that was strictly for show. "I have a gift for you, dear." Algenon pulled the Medallion of Zulo from his pocket, and placed it around Jennifer's neck. Then he pulled a garment out of his sleeve, and touched it to the Medallion. As Jennifer began to change, Algenon unfolded the garment so that everyone could see that he'd touched a four-year-old's jumper dress to the medallion. It didn't take long before a very young, female Jennifer toddled back to her seat, stifling sobs. "Paul1954, please come and accept your justice." As Paul walked to the stage, Algenon unfolded another letter that Robert Patterson had received. "Dear Doctor Patterson, I need your advice and counsel. My husband and I have been married for several years now, and only recently did I discover his other life. He reads smut on the net, about men who are changed into, or dress as, women. He seems most obsessed by a story about a millionaire who switches bodies with his ballerina wife. Now I just had to read this story after discovering my Derek's obsession, and the story is very good, and the photos well chosen, but where did Derek's desires come from? I mean, he's so obsessed that he's taken up ballet, and is the only man in a class of adult women. I don't want a man in a tutu. Please help us." The smile on Paul's face at the kind words in the woman's letter about "The Test 2" faded when he saw what Algenon had pulled from the sleeve of his robe -- a pair of toe shoes. Moments later, a tall, graceful woman, in tights and toe shoes, practically danced back to her seat. Eddie Glover was next, gallantly not showing fear while marching down the aisle to the stage. "Eddie, your fate comes from 'Wiz TV', courtesy of a letter I shall not read here, as the woman who wrote it blathered on for pages and pages about how her husband lost himself in your fantasies. I give you one of your own characters." Eddie became a female wrestler, clad only in tights and boots, firm breasts soaring out over the flat stomach of a woman athlete. She left the stage before Algenon told her to, walking with pride back to her seat. "I'm having so much fun with all of you, especially watching you all try to put on brave fronts, knowing full well that you are scared shitless and witless at facing your little fantasies coming to life. Let's see if Chilli TNG has enough spice to take 'her justice like a woman'. Chilli rose up from near the front of the room. "No, don't move, we need to rush this process along a bit. You can stand there, and become a female rock star-like character, similar to the one in your story 'Nine-Tenths'. Well written, I must say, but now you can live out the consequences." A puff of smoke accompanied this spell, as Chilli metamorphosed into an almost identical copy of Courtney Love. The authors and changes went faster now. Amy Brett found herself transformed into "The New Secretary". Brandy DeWinter found herself changed into not the star of "Bosom Bondage Buddies", but instead her enchanting next door neighbor, Billie. Carolyn Collins became the teenaged Tammy from "Freaky Saturday". Cabinessence changed into several different girls in a swirling, spinning display of magic before settling into the form of a young Chinese woman, a character that might have come from "The Future is No Longer Mine". Being a Hooters Girl from "The Circus is in Town" was not what Caleb Jones had had in mind when deciding to go away for the weekend, but no one escaped Algenon's magic. C.J. Wenhurst found herself a petite young blonde woman, with a plastic band around her wrist after having gone through "The Changer". Dani O'Neill's Sissy Dani came to life, but briefly, as she changed from that form into the shape of Stephanie, the new secretary to "The Boss". Deborah Leigh Johnson was "Mesmerized" into thinking she was a real girl quicker than Algenon could spin a watch around. Ed Gay got "The Double D's" faster than anyone cold have ever fastened a bra around breasts so large. Janice Dreamer was a hulking football player for a moment, until "Team Spirit" kicked in. Then she became a high-kicking cheerleader. Robin Douglas, Robo, Sandy Sullivan, Sharonna, Snoopbone, Stephanie, Vickie Tern and so many more, too many to list here, were all transformed into women, female characters from or shaped by a story of their creation. Sapphire found her place among the newly minted women, as did Mindy Rich, Archivist par excellence from Fictionmania. The final victim of Algenon was Gunslinger, who marched back to her seat in the auditorium as an identical twin of a famous Hollywood actress who'd portrayed a gunfighter in a very bad movie about the Old West. Robert Patterson stepped back up to the podium and took the microphone from Algenon, who was in the middle of admiring the havoc he'd wreaked thus far. "My thanks to my friend Algenon, who has meted out justice to the assembled authors. While you have brought so much pleasure to the lives of your readers, you turned upside down the lives of their loved ones, and thusly, you find your own lives turned upside down. An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth." Harmonica Lupinski, a bouffant-haired "dresser" from Washington D.C., clad in a blue dress with some kind of stain on it, stood up. "That's stupid, Doctor Patterson. By that logic, we'd all end up blind and gumming our meals." Robert looked at Algenon, and nodded. Algenon's wand flashed, and Harmonica was transformed into a slimmer woman, clad only in a denim mini, platform sneakers, bra, panties, and sweatshirt with the logo of a famous college in Northern California on it. Marveling at her new form, Harmonica sat back down. "While the good book says, judge not, lest ye be judged, we who have brought forth this vengeance upon you stand here, not in judgment, but as messengers of the Almighty himself, doing his good works. Now that we've finished our work among the authors of TG fiction, let us turn our attention to the other members of the audience who appear here today, in the garb of members of the opposite gender. A direct violation of a teaching of the good book, I might add. All of the rest of you cross dressers stand up now, and face your own justice and judgment." A wave of horror washed through the room as the dressers stood. A few of the standees appeared to be male, apparently women who preferred to dress as men. But with just those few exceptions, the people standing were men clad in women's clothes. Many of them had their wives seated next to them, and all were afraid of what would happen next. Algenon began to wave his arms in a circular motion. Waves of bright light formed at the ends of his hands, like a spiral of energy. As the spirals grew, they flew about, until the room was filled with spinning, crackling energy. "You shall all become as you are dressed, but better yet, as you imagined yourself dressed. You will learn the folly of your actions, girls!" Algenon dropped his arms. The spinning energy began shooting off small pulses that flew directly into the bodies of the standing members of the audience. Hairy skin became smoother, softer, and hairless. In some cases, fat became thinner, although in others, thinness gave way to plump. Bald spots filled in as wigs became real hair. False breast forms of rubber and latex became flesh and blood. Testicles ascended to become ovaries, as bones cracked and shifted to form female skeletons. Adam's apples disappeared, nails grew, and bladders shrank, as the energy spun. When it stopped spinning, every man in the auditorium, except for Patterson, Algenon, and their followers, had been transformed into a woman. "Now, ladies and gentlemen...oh, how silly of me. There are so few gentlemen present that I need only say ladies, eh?" Robert Patterson laughed at his own joke. "I suppose you are wondering what will happen to you next. You will merely go ahead with your weekend. You'll find that you cannot leave Egnever, as a mystical force field surrounds the city. On Monday, when you would have been home, you will all be here, broken down into smaller groups to take part in the next phase of my plan. I've arranged for every television talk show in the nation to air from Egnever on Monday, live, and you all will be the guests and audiences for each show. Picture yourselves as guests on Oprah, Sally, and so on, discussing your former hobby, now new life. I just wonder what one program is going to do, since its host is sitting amongst you somewhere. I won't make her stand, but it should be fun to see if she will appear on her own show as a guest, as well as the host. Meanwhile, you're free to leave, and continue with the day's scheduled activities. The phones, cars, etc., will not work, you cannot reach the outside world. But I'm sure that those of you who were planning on attending the Merle Kay make-up workshop don't mind one bit, do you? Now go on, and go to whatever event you were next scheduled to attend." Leigh de Santa Fe, transformed into Miss Jordan, the Merle Key speaker, walked to the stage. "Good morning, ladies. I think we'll be able to change the focus of this morning's session from how to conceal your male self with a proper application to makeup, to how make the most of our products to highlight your femininity." The authors moved to a different building, for their scheduled workshop on transgender character development in fiction - a roundtable discussion. Once it was just the authors, they closed the door and locked it. "We have to be calm," said the Professor, whose schoolgirl appearance was now enhanced by a history book she carried, titled "The History of Ovid". "How can I be calm?" asked Snoopbone, transformed into his creation Liz, admiring *her* chubby feet. "Because panic won't help us," answered Cassandra Jackson, formerly Raven. "Exactly right. We have to stay calm, and think about what we can and cannot do," suggested the prom dress clad Morpheus, as she sat with her legs crossed, a high heeled pump dangling from her toes in a very feminine pose. "Professor?" asked Paul1954, as she rose gracefully in her tights and tutu. "Didn't you say something about how their justice would turn on them?" "Yes, Paul, although I should call you Diana now, shouldn't I. I have seen the future of the two leaders who have done this. But I cannot reveal it, or our own fates, to you, for fear that knowing what would happen might alter decisions you each will have to make before this ordeal is over." It took the wisdom of a nine-year-old to finally calm the assembled authors. Cleo Kraft walked to where the Professor stood, in front of the room. In her girlish voice, she said, "Look, we all wanted to be girls, at least we all wrote about boys who wanted to be girls, or who should be forced to be girls, or anyway, this is something we all supposedly wanted. So let's enjoy it, and see what happens next. If I have to go home this way, the world won't end. In fact, for me, a whole new world might start. Now, let's play!" She took four-year-old Jennifer Adams by the hand, and started to skip out the door. It was the wildest Saturday in the history of Egnever. The town's male population found themselves very popular with the visitors from out of town. They'd been told that the bulk of their guests were men who dressed as women, but the local guys found nothing but genuine women hitting on them in the local bars. While the new women couldn't call for help, somehow, Algenon had managed to give them access to the Internet, provided they didn't try to email someone about what had happened. As a result, online sales of women's clothing set single day records that may never be broken, as the new women shopped for their altered forms. The wives of men who had been transformed into women held their own meeting late that night. Andrea, who had always been very supportive of her husband's "hobby", led the meeting, and began it with an expression of her feelings. "I don't know what to do. My husband always dressed at home, and even went out on Halloween, but he was never an attractive or passable woman. Now, not only is he completely female, he and I are the same dress size. I want him back the way he was." Many of the wives offered similar stories, all, that is, but a small group of six women who stayed at the back of the room and remained silent. They were to meet later on, after this meeting, and work out their own plans. Lois Lane was wandering around town, interviewing women who had been men only hours before, asking them about their experiences thus far. She was sure she would get a Pulitzer Prize for feature story when she was done with this one. Sunday afternoon, after a morning of church services where some prayed like they'd never prayed before, Algenon used his magic to summon everyone to a meeting back in the auditorium. The last people to arrive were the six women who'd sat in the back of the room at the meeting of wives the night before. "Good morning, ladies. Oh, let me amend that to say ladies and gentlemen, for the few of you who were females before yesterday's little demonstration of my powers. I know that Jennifer, author of the 'Tales from the Panty Drawer' stories fits into that category, and I'm sure there may be one or two others. But the reason I've gathered you together this morning is that I was remiss yesterday in giving you the gift of being female. I forgot one very important thing." Algenon reached onto the table behind him, and grabbed a box of tampons and another of sanitary napkins. "I want you to feel the femininity literally flowing within you, so every one of you cross dressers who is now female will also begin her period this morning. Aren't you fortunate?" Worried faces filled the crowd, and as Algenon began the process of casting the spell to create mass menstruation, the six wives stood up in their chairs and cried, "Stop!" Algenon stopped, and looked down at the six women who now approached the stage. An expression of fear began to write itself across his face. He raised his hand and gestured toward the women. A bolt of lightning flew toward them. One of the six held up her own hand and caught the bolt, dropping it harmlessly to the floor. Algenon turned to run, but the women gestured, and he found his feet would no longer move. "Alge, what's wrong? What is going on?" Robert Patterson cried out. Algenon replied, "Well, at least I'll have you along to share my fate, Robert. Those women are clearly witches, and if they can catch my bolt of lightning out of air and freeze me here like this, their magic is far stronger than my own." Hearing this, Robert also tried to run, and found his feet stuck to the floor. The women formed a circle on the stage, and began to chant. The darkness that had suffused the room since Algenon had arrived the day before seemed to lift almost instantly. One of the women slipped out of the circle, as the other five closed in on themselves. The sixth woman moved to the podium. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, however you are now, however you were. My sisters and I could sit back no longer, and watch you being victimized by this no-account magician. We are in the process of removing his ability to cast spells at all, and then we will dispense justice to him, that foolish preacher, and their minions. You may leave, or you may stay and watch." No one moved, as the chanting grew in intensity. The woman at the podium gestured, and Robert Patterson's body slid across the floor toward her, propelled by some unseen force. "Robert Patterson, you have sat in judgment unfairly, and justice will now be wrought upon you." Before the eyes of the assembled audience, Robert Patterson shrank to the point of almost disappearing, and then grew larger again, but this time as Roberta Patrick, a 25-year-old schoolteacher and singer in her church choir. Clad in a print dress and high heels, with her hair pulled back in a bun, she was the picture of prim, proper femininity. "Take a seat in the audience with the other men who have become women, dear." Roberta, unable to stop herself, walked to a seat in the front of the room with an unmistakably feminine gait. "Now for your other followers. A similar fate, I should think." The black-robed men who had accompanied Algenon and Robert, now Roberta, in taking control of the town, were all changed into women much like Roberta. "Our nation needs teachers, and I can think of no better fate for the likes of you, ladies. Take your seats." Now the only people still standing in the room were the six women and Algenon. The chanting changed tones. "Know now, practitioner of the dark side of our craft, that your powers have been excised. You are just another man now. But not for long." The chanting increased in volume, and a wave of bright light engulfed Algenon. He tried to scream, but the energy absorbed his words. Algenon shrank and shrank, until he was infant-sized. "A female child has been born this day, sisters, and who better to raise her than our newest sister, Roberta." The head witch took the child, and walked to where Roberta was sitting. She handed the baby Algenon to Roberta, and said, "Her name is Alicia now. Take good care of her." As the head witch walked back to the podium, the other witches kept chanting. A murmur grew in the room as everyone wondered what would happen next. "I'm sure the rest of you are wondering what will happen to you. I am about to explain, but first, rest assured that the rest of the world will not know what happened here in Egnever this weekend. No talk-show hosts are on their way here, none of you will be on the news Monday. Well, the one talk-show host who is currently more of a hostess, might end up on the news." A titter filled the room for a moment, but died as the head witch held up her hands for silence. "You have all been through great changes, and the question is, what will happen to you now?" The head witch smiled benevolently at the assembled group in the auditorium. "Tonight, we will gather here at eleven, one hour before midnight. You will then have one hour to decide how you will live the rest of your lives. From midnight, until two in the morning, magic will fill this auditorium again. The magic of love." The witch's voice choked for a moment, and then she found the strength to continue. "Whether you know it or not, each of the six of us up here is married to a man who at the moment is as female as we are. In offering the choice we intend to offer to all of you, we are offering that choice to our own husbands, as well. I want them to know, and they know who they are, that they are as free to make whatever choice they think best for themselves tonight." She paused to sip from a glass of water. "Once we are all assembled in here at eleven, we will begin to use our craft once again. All doors to the room will be sealed. At midnight, two exits will be opened. One reading 'Before' and one reading 'After'. Your choice will be determined by which exit you use. If you walk through the portal labeled 'Before', you will return to the form you had before encountering the evil of Algenon. If you walk through the portal labeled 'After', you will remain as you are, for the rest of your lives." Hands shot up all over the room. "Sisters, hold your questions until I am finished. You who walk through the door labeled 'After' will find your reality has altered to accept the new you. It may alter in a way that you do not like. That is the risk you must face in choosing to remain female. Your altered reality will include new identification, and everything you need to live out your life as a woman. Whether or not you will still be with the wife or partner you were with before this meeting is something you will be leaving to the whims of fate, by choosing the 'After' door." She gestured to her fellow witches to join her in front of the stage. They joined hands. "My sisters and I wish you well, however you choose. Now, go and enjoy the rest of today, and we will see you tonight." Chilli knew what she would do. She was beautiful, but the world wasn't ready for a second Courtney Love. She would spend the rest of her day as a woman doing fun things. She walked out of the auditorium with everyone else, until only the six witches and their own spouses were left in the room. One by one, the witches paired off with their husbands, to go and discuss what they would choose. * * * Roberta Patrick walked quickly toward the auditorium as the time to meet drew near. "This will be easy, I'll just mingle with the crowd, walk through the 'Before' door, and Alge and I will be returned to normal." She found a seat near the door labeled with a large sign as 'Before' and waited. "Ladies and gentlemen. We are going to begin in a moment, but we have a request, that those of you who are not authors of TG Fiction go first in choosing to leave tonight. To honor the work of those authors, we want to leave them to make their choice in the sight of only their fellow writers." The witches circled the stage, chanting and singing. The odor of spices filled the air, crisp and fresh. The women and few men who sat watching saw the lights brighten and fade and brighten again as the hour of midnight drew near. Soon, the audience began to stand up and move toward one of the two exits, forming lines to wait for the opening of the doors. The first six in line were the husbands of the witches. Three at the 'Before' and three at the 'After'. It had already been decided that the three who would be remaining female would be accepted into the coven. To the surprise of many, most of the assembled were standing in the 'Before' line. Betsy saw Felice standing there in line, her wife next to her. She saw tears in their eyes, and went over to comfort her new found friend. "Felice, are you all right?" "Yes, Betsy, and thanks for coming." "You're crying, are you sure this is the right choice for you?" Alice smiled through her own tears. "I tried to tell her that she was free to walk through the other door, and that I would stay with her forever no matter what, but she said that she has to go back, that it wouldn't be fair to me or our future children." "I'm doing the right thing, Betsy. My tears are tears of joy for having had the experience." The doors opened promptly at midnight. Those walking through the 'Before' door found that they were restored to normal before they could finish stepping through the doorway. Those walking through the 'After' door felt a slight tingle as they stepped through, and they found themselves standing outside the auditorium, still female (or in a few cases, male), and in their minds, the memories and facts they would need to live out their new lives. Soon the room was almost empty. The witches continued to chant, and giggled as they watched Roberta trying to leave her seat. "Sorry, Roberta, we didn't want you making your choice while the bulk of the audience was still here, so we bound you and your followers into your chairs. But you may go now." Roberta got up and tried to walk toward the 'Before' door. But her body wouldn't cooperate. She strode smoothly in her heels, carrying Alice, toward the 'After' exit, followed by her helpless followers, still female, and also being forced to walk toward the 'After' door by some unseen force. "Oh, did I forget to mention, dear, we chose for you?" Roberta walked through the 'After' door, and found herself not outside, but at home in her apartment. She laid Alice in the crib, and then cried herself to sleep, knowing she was stuck like this forever. At last, only the authors were left in the auditorium, along with the witches. "We have some gifts for you writers. Steve Zink, we know that you really wanted to be a costumed heroine, so here is the Ring of Radamanthus. It will allow you to transform yourself into a female superhero, should you choose to remain as Lois Lane. Unfortunately, it has no power on men." "Call me Lois then, because this is how I shall remain. And I'm going to adopt Cleo and Jennifer, so they will have a mother to care for them during their second childhood, this time as girls." Lois was engulfed by the two little girls, who raced toward her, hugging her tightly. The three turned toward the 'After' door, and holding hands, they left. Chilli started to head for the 'Before' door, and was surprised to hear "her" name called. "Chilli, dear, you can remain female, and not as Courtney Love, if you wish." "I thank you for the kind offer, but I think what is right for me is to go back to my old life." "Go in peace, sister, and may you find happiness." "I have, for which I thank you." One by one the authors chose, most receiving added gifts as they left. Bill Hart surprised everyone by choosing to return to his former life, rather than be the proprietor of a real Spells R Us shop. Morpheus was given a ring that enabled a switch between 'Before' and 'After', but with the caution that if anyone else were to ever put on the ring, Morpheus would remain forever as he or she was from the last change. Paul1954 got a music box with a ballerina on it that would enable her to go back to being Diana anytime she liked, with the proviso that she couldn't remain as Diana longer than 48 hours without it becoming a permanent change. One by one, the remaining authors made their choices, and left by the doors they chose, many taking 'After', some taking 'Before'. Finally, only the Professor was left with the witches. "We were told by someone to keep you for last." Then the witches stopped chanting, and they themselves left. The Professor stood there, calmly, prescience having foretold what would come next. A voice from somewhere said, "You know, Ovid needs a good head cheerleader." THE END P.S. Again, my apologies to any author who didn't find his or her name in this story somewhere. Know that I and many have enjoyed your works. I simply couldn't possibly list every author who has written a story that I've read and enjoyed. Know that your work is not unappreciated.