"Um," I said again. "You mean … they had sex? Out of
wedlock
?!"
Draeden laughed at that. "Oh yes. And soon, I think, so shall you. I have a mind to bless you with the very powers which I possess."
I was backing away from him then. "No," I said. "You can't … I don't want … "
"I care very little about that, Marcus," he said, moving toward me yet again. "I have been around a fair bit longer than you, and I think I know a little bit more about what's best for you, don't you? Now, hold still."
It was a command, and I couldn't fight it. He held a long slender hand out, the fingers tensed over my chest. All at once, I could feel the ties of my shirt becoming undone, although no one touched them. He moved his hand downward, and I could feel some pressure sliding over my body as he did so, like a deep liquid tingling. He moved his hand forward slightly, and my shirt slid off my shoulders. I tried to shiver, but I wasn't cold. My trousers dropped next, and then I was standing naked in front of Draeden. I briefly wondered if he was going to rape me, but it didn't seem likely. He was studying me intently.
"First," he said, "there is your physical body." He moved his hands, and then he was touching me, the tips of his fingers cold on the skin of my shoulders. The tingling grew stronger as he slid his hands over me—I could feel my body shifting under my skin, the muscles becoming tighter and more pronounced. It felt
good
, like the feeling I got when I looked at Adam, only a great deal more intense and
lower
.
I gasped as Draeden's fingers slid over me, and probably moaned when he touched me where no one had before. He was changing me there, too, and the emotions I felt conflicted and cancelled each other out. All I could feel was pleasure.
Draeden smiled at me. "Oh. You like men, don't you, Marcus? I'm sorry, I didn't realize. Don't worry; you will be able to seduce men and women equally."
I couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of his statement. As if I could ever seduce anyone, male or female.
Draeden frowned and drew his hand away. With a quick glance down, he said, "I wouldn't let anyone see you there right away. They're liable to want to put their mouth on you, and you're so innocent." He grinned, an expression that almost seemed malicious in the moonlight. "I'd hate for you to receive something unexpected."
Then with his free hand, Draeden reached up and touched my face. I gasped, truly fearful for the first time.
"Don't worry," he said. "I won't change your face very much. Just a little prettier." I felt the pleasurable shifting once again as his fingers slid over my face. "I doubt anyone will notice outright. If they do, well," he shrugged. "I doubt they'll care."
He stepped back from me, and I stood there, still naked and now finally shaking a little. "Is that all?" I asked him.
"No," he said. "Now for your powers." He held a hand out once again directly over my chest. I felt a warm pulsing deep inside me and felt my body drawn up toward his hand, although whether it was by magic or my own impulse, I didn't know. There was a moment of pure pressure, an invisible connection between us, and then I felt the magic shoot into me, like water and light and pleasure.
Then I collapsed, luckily backward onto the bed behind me. I managed to sit up in time to see Draeden turning to leave. "There is your gift," he said, turning to look at me with a little smile. "The Power of Seduction. It is immensely useful. Use it well." He turned to leave, and then stopped. As if in afterthought, he turned, and said "I shall be back to check up on you, of course."
Then he was gone.
I awoke the next morning
feeling absolutely wonderful—and then the events of the night before came back to me all at once, and I felt an intense, sickening dread spread throughout my body. I jumped from the bed in a horrified daze and grabbed my trousers from where they lay crumpled on the floor. It didn't occur to me to hope that it had all been a dream—the events of the previous night were far too clear in my memory.
I wrenched open the door to my wardrobe and stared at myself in the mirror, only to have my worst fears confirmed. My body was perfect—all lean, defined muscle and smooth tanned skin. I touched a hand to my chest and slid it down over my flat torso and firm, muscular abdomen. Then, with a dread almost too much to bear, I slid my hand down the front of my trousers and touched the tips of my fingers to myself. I was thicker and firmer than I remembered—and more sensitive.
I gasped and pulled my hand away, grasping desperately for the first shirt within reach and violently pulling it over my head. After I had frantically buttoned my shirt to its highest point around my neck, I relaxed a bit. My overall shape hadn't changed very much, and I was sure no one would notice. But what about my face?
I leaned forward to inspect myself and noted, with some relief, that there didn't seem to be any too obvious changes. If anything, my face merely seemed sharper, the features more defined. The nose was a bit straighter, the jaw a bit more elegant, and the mouth more sensual. I remembered the shivery pleasure I had felt when Draeden had traced his fingers over my lips and drew my own hand to them, aghast. Then I saw my eyes and realized that there was no way I would be able to keep my transformation from anyone for too long.
They were the same eyes, of course, almond-shaped and a bright hazel, but there was something very different about them. The morning sunlight caught the irises brilliantly, and when I locked eyes with myself, my gaze was so bright and intense that I found myself almost unable to look away. I sensed a deep, resonant power behind those eyes, which frightened me and sent a foreign shiver down my spine. I knew, somehow, that anyone who was unfortunate enough to meet my gaze would be very much under my control until I deigned to set them free. Draeden had been right—this power
was
very useful. And I would have given anything not to have it.
There was a loud knock at the door, and I started violently.
"Um, one moment!" I shouted. Damn it, Draeden had even changed my voice!
"Marcus?" came my father's voice through the heavy wooden door. "Are you decent? Let us in, please!"
"A moment, please, Father!" I shouted, furiously combing my fingers through my hair and futilely attempting to dim the brilliant, frantic look in my eyes. However, I realized that there was nothing I could do, save attempt to avoid eye contact for as long as possible.
What was I to tell them? The idea of informing them of the truth was laughable—what if they decided I had been visited by a demon instead? What if I
had
been visited by a demon?!
"Marcus?" My mother was there, too. "Did the fairy come to you? What gift did he give you?"
Through the door, I said, "Um, yes. I think so. Um, I don't know."
"You don't know?!" shouted my father. "Whatever do you mean?"
"He … he didn't say." I gasped in relief when the lie came to me.
"Didn't say?! Marcus, let us in!"
"No, Mother, I'm really not decent at the moment!" I was leaning up against the door, my head thrown back in despair. What was I going to do?! "I'll be down for breakfast in a moment!"
There was a pause. Then my mother's voice: "Well, alright, Marcus. We'll expect you right away."
"Yes, Mother," I managed, and then slid to the floor while listening to the slow retreat of their footsteps.
By the time I descended
to the meal hall for breakfast, I felt slightly more resigned. I had reviewed all of my options (among them running away or staying in my bedroom for the rest of my life), but in the end, the only viable one seemed to be to go to breakfast and deal with the results as best as I could. I had made myself presentable, combing my hair back neatly and donning a large, brown leather coat to further hide my new physique. I had also practiced walking back and forth in my bedroom without taking my eyes from the floor. Aside from that, there was nothing I could do besides shuffle slowly down the stairs and hope that no one looked at me.
Everyone did, of course. The news that I had indeed been visited by a fairy had spread throughout the castle, and everyone was eager to hear my story. I continued to expand my lie from before, explaining that the fairy had neglected to introduce himself or inform me of the nature of the powers with which he had gifted me. My parents were naturally disappointed, but took the news with good humour, deciding that my gifts would most certainly reveal themselves when the time was right, and that the best course of action would be to continue with the plans already made to send me to the king.
I couldn't decide whether to be happy with this decision or not. For one thing, the Wizard Dante had not seen me before and would not notice my sudden change in appearance, but on the other, I didn't fancy going to the king and informing him that, while I definitely possessed magical powers, I had no idea what they were, and was therefore useless. The thought of actually demonstrating or using my powers in any way made me sick to my stomach.
I was alternating thinking about this and attempting to quell the sick feelings in my gut when I was distracted by a serving maid, who was complaining about the soup.
"I swear it wasn't here before!" she exclaimed. "Something blue, like tiny sapphires in the soup!"
"Let me see," my father ordered, and as the maid came toward him with the heavy pot, I made the mistake of looking up.
Our eyes met, and I saw hers widen, and heard the small, soundless gasp that escaped her lips when I involuntarily unleashed the full power of my eyes onto her. For a moment, I could have sworn I saw right into her soul, and felt the flutter of her heart and racing of her blood as her body froze in surprise. Then she shrieked, the heavy iron pot falling from her hands and landing with a thud on the tile floor.
There was a flurry of activity as the other serving maids swooped in to right the pot, but the damage was done: about half of the soup had spilled and was spreading across the floor. Fixing my eyes firmly downward, I could see from my peripheral vision that there did indeed seem to be traces of a deep blue substance glittering amongst the vegetables and broth. Whilst the maids busied themselves with cleaning up the spill, I let my eyes follow the rapidly dissipating line of deep blue powder along the floor, to where it was lightly falling in a trail from the roof. I looked up, and suppressed a gasp when I saw a dark, winged figure sitting among the rafters of the hall. I blinked, trying to see clearer, but the figure disappeared.
The maid whom I had involuntarily influenced seemed to be in shock. I didn't look at her again, but I felt quite certain that she was staring at me, and I could almost feel the pleasurable excitement with which her body had betrayed her still pulsing through her against her will. She apologized profusely to my father, and was allowed to leave on account of feeling faint.
I felt faint myself, and as soon I was able, stood up from the table, announcing that I was not hungry and excusing myself from breakfast.
"Don't go too far, Marcus," my mother ordered me distractedly as I fled the meal hall. "The Wizard Dante will be arriving sometime this afternoon."
I hardly bothered to listen or care.
I had always felt safe in the forest.
With the sun filtering softly through the green leaves of the birch trees, and the carpet of mosses and dried leaves muffling all sounds on the uneven ground, it felt immensely peaceful. It was the only place I had ever been where I felt truly alone.
And I needed badly to be alone now. My mind was awhirl with emotions and frantic thoughts. Since the day before, my life had changed so much, and not at all in the way I had thought it would. I wanted very badly to be a small innocent boy again, to not know or care anymore about my future than what I was told to by my parents and tutors. I hated that fairy, Draeden, and the way he made me feel—as if being such a sexual and base creature was something that was acceptable; as if I should be grateful for the evil curse which he had forced onto me. Most of all, I hated myself—hated myself for thinking that I should have any say in my future. Me, the spoiled, sexual deviant.
Without realizing it, I had picked up a long branch from the ground and begun to swish it back and forth, enjoying the satisfying
thwack
that resulted whenever it impacted with a branch or trunk of a tree that happened to be in my path. I was staggering aimlessly, not certain of where I was or where I was going; I focused only on the rhythmic swing and impact of the branch, imagining that its targets were everything that I hated about my life: me, that stupid fairy, my stupid powers, and my disgusting and evil sexuality. I barely noticed when the twig impacted, quite forcefully, with a human obstruction.
The obstruction had, unfortunately, been carrying quite a heavy load of dry wood, which toppled everywhere upon my directly running into him with a branch. Blushing and apologizing profusely, I immediately stooped to help gather up some of the wood, and before I could remember not to, I stared up into a pair of surprised blue eyes.
"Adam," I blurted out, and proceeded to drop several pieces of wood onto his hands and feet. The entire load of wood once again toppled to the ground around us.
"Um. Adam," I said again. "Here, let me help."
"That's alright!" he exclaimed, skirting away from my help, obviously dreading another instance of the heavy logs dropping onto his bare feet. "It's fine. Marcus?" He stopped gathering wood for a moment and looked at me, shoving the sweaty blond hair from his face. "What are you doing here? You look … different."
I was staring at him again, unable to focus on anything but the intense concentration it took to keep my new powers in check, unable to even look away from him. The fact that he was quite possibly the most beautiful human I had ever laid eyes on didn't serve to lessen the difficulty of the situation any.
"Adam," I said, and then again, "Adam." I walked toward him, slowly, with my hand outstretched. The scene was fiercely reminiscent of one from mere hours ago, when a dark fairy had moved in close to a young, innocent boy, hand outstretched to take from him all his inhibitions. Only this time, I was the seducer, and Adam was helpless against me. I saw his breath, shallow in his chest, and felt the intense, heated core of him move subconsciously forward to meet my outstretched hand. I saw those blue eyes flicker to mine—there was unmistakeable lust in them—and a foreign shiver ran down my spine again. Except it didn't seem quite so foreign this time. Lust, power, and control were quickly becoming more familiar.