Expect nudity, gender transformation, and mental control.
The carriage picks Ian up at the inn bright and early to take him to the coven compound on the north end of town.
A high hedge blocks off any view of it from the outside, and wrought iron gates open by themselves as they approach. Ian is let out in front of a stately red brick colonel building at the end of a circular drive. It's three stories high and the tall windows are rounded at the top. He stands at the bottom of the steps unsure of what to do. The uncommunicative driver gave him no instructions.
There are other buildings in view scattered around the grounds. Some look like cottages others are clearly for some sort of communal use. But none are as large or as grand as this one.
Eventually, he shoulders his bag and starts up the stairs to the large double doors.
He's wearing the dress his mom picked out for the big day. It's a knee-length black number with a scoop at the neckline that's the most revealing of anything he's worn so far. This exposes more skin on his upper body than any of the shirts he owned in his old life, and it makes him uncomfortable. Also, it seems a bit of a waste wearing a brand new dress (and such a pretty one) when he might only have it on a couple of hours before he has to turn it over to the coven.
Do they have uniforms for the apprentices? he wonders, thinking about what it would be like to dress as a school girl.
He's barely halfway up the stairs when an older woman steps out and says, "Well, hurry up. You're the last one."
Ian recognizes her from his recent study of the coven. She's Goodie Pickering. Her title is Sorceress Supreme, which if he understands the complicated hierarchy system means she is a senior witch with no official posting in the coven's governance. Her specialty is weather magic, and she's been responsible for many newsworthy events. The most resent being stopping Hurricane Sandy from making landfall.
Ian races up the steps taking them two at a time mumbling, "Sorry!" He hopes his sweat won't cause his makeup to run.
"Don't be sorry, be quick." She leads him down the hall and up another flight of stairs. She keeps a fast pace, and he only catches glimpses of the women in the oil paints that lines the walls along the way. "You're Claire's young un', is that right?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'm Ivy Larkin."
"I didn't ask that. If you make journeywoman, I might consider remembering your name. But let's see if you get that far." It sounds as though she's rather doubtful of this. She brings him to a small conference room with a large round table. "I found this one loitering around the grounds," she tells the woman sitting by the door. There are two nervous looking younger women opposite her. Ian takes a spot beside them.
The coven is taking on three new apprentices this autumn season. For the rest of the day a series of witches comes through explaining to them the history of the coven, what's expected of them, and various details about the rules they must obey. It seems to be mostly a formality since all the apprentices have studied up and learned most of the information ahead of time. The three new girls are only ever on their own when they eat their meals, which consists of simple cold sandwiches for lunch and salad bowls for dinner. The food seems to have come from a takeout joint and not made by the coven. Ian learns his fellow apprentices are Dani and Catharina.
When his mind wanders he thinks to the message June had sent him using Magic Earth's version of email. It was terse and vague. But she'd said she was about to leave the hotel for her coven and wanted to wish him good luck and that they'd see each other at the Cold Moon Festival (the rough equivalent to Thanksgiving here). He wishes she'd said more. As it was, it looks as though she's still mad at him. But at least she's talking to him again. He's anxious to see her, but the holiday isn't until the beginning of December which seems so far away.
He's feeling pretty exhausted and has almost forgot about the ceremony, when each of the newbies are led to a private room on the main floor in the back of the house. The one he enters is stark with four white walls, two wooden chairs facing each other, and a plastic storage bin. He sits tapping his foot nervously. When the door opens, he stands, practically at attention.
Claire Wilmott enters. He'd recognize her anywhere. He's been studying her picture for days. "Hi again, Ivy," she says. "Excited?"
"Yes!" he says, realizing his other self must have met her during the interviews. "And nervous. But really excited. I mean, I'm really looking forward to being your apprentice. It's pretty much all I can think of. I mean, this is just so wonderful, I can hardly believe its happening to me. I...I'll stop babbling now."
She giggles, and she seems a lot younger than her 34 years. "Take it easy. I was an apprentice once too and not all that long ago. I know what it's like. Have you slept at all in the past week?"
"Not much. A little."
"Better than I did before my induction. But just relax, we're going to have a lot fun. I promise." She smiles, and it takes over her round face lighting it up. Gesturing for him to sit back down, she takes the seat across from him. "This is probably the worse part of it. We have to wait until it's our turn for the ceremony. They can only perform it on one apprentice at a time. She glances at a watch hanging from a chain around her neck and sighs. "Almost eight. We won't get called until closer to eleven. We're going to be here a while. The more senior witches go first, but the jokes on them. It's more auspicious for the ceremony when its performed closer to midnight, so you might even find yourself with a leg up on the others. But it also means, we'll get to chat for a while. I just hope you don't get sick of me before you start your apprenticeship."
"I would never get—"
"Don't say that too quickly. We're going to be spending a lot of time together. A witch and her apprentice are nearly inseparable. Getting sick of one another is a definite risk." Then, changing subjects, she says, "That's a nice dress."
"Thanks! My mom helped me pick it out." For the first time he notices that she's wearing a simple pleated ankle-length skirt and a turtleneck, both black. This is something that he's learned: colored dyes can interfere with spells so most covens opt for an all black dress code. Although there are those that go with white, and in a few very rare cases they wear gray. It has also made it so wearing all black is immediately associated with witchcraft, which must be why June and him had filled out their closets with clothes are that color even before having the magical powers unlocked.
The two of them spend the time talking. Or rather, Claire spends most of the time telling him stories about her travels and exploits. He smiles and nods along unable to take his eyes off of her. He's infatuated. Not in a romantic sense, it's just that he's never met anyone as impressive as this before. He also can't help exploring her face and body, knowing that some of her traits will carry over to him in the ceremony.
He figures he most likely will get her dark purple hair. Hair color is almost always passed down from witch to apprentice (and it seems magic skews the coloring to hues that wouldn't otherwise be considered natural). But will he get her big violet eyes? Her full cheeks? Her tiny cute nose? Her pert lips? What about her ample bosom or wide hips?
Now and then, someone comes down the hall ringing a bell. Ian jumps a little each time and watches the door until it stops. But Claire ignores it completely, until finally it rings several hours after they first sat down together, and she somehow detects something distinctive in the ring that Ian can't hear. "That's our signal." She stands and begins taking off her jewelry.
"You'll want to put all you're things in the box. They'll store it, and you can get it back when you pass your apprenticeship. If you still want it then." She goes on to pull her sweater off.
Ian feels incredibly embarrassed undressing in front of Claire. Not only is he not used to being naked in front of other people, but his maleness seems all the more on display this way. Claire doesn't seem to care however and gives him an encouraging smile when he glances over at her. He tries not to notice just how naked she is, but of course, it's all he can think about. And his quick glance has burned the image of her in his brain.
She does not have the same level of modesty as him and is quite brazen about showing herself. As much as he tries, he can't match her nonchalance when it comes times leave the room. He has to force himself not to cup his hands over his private parts or shrink into a ball.
They stroll farther down the hall to a backdoor and out into the chilly night that's filled with the first notes of autumn. Out on the grounds, their goal is clear. A circle of candles surrounding a circle of naked figures, their white bodies gleaming in the moonlight. He recognizes some of the witches who spoke to the apprentices throughout the day.
Abstractly, he might have thought being among over a dozen naked women would be arousing. But there is nothing sexy about this. There's a power here that keeps his member almost shriveled. Although that might also be the cold. Still, he feels a mixture of awe and fear as he heads toward them.
The pillar candles are all white. Some are perched on metal stands of various heights. Others are on ceramic dishes placed right on the lawn. They all sit on nexus points of a complex symbol drawn with heavy white powder on the grass. In the center of it is burnished copper contraption. In the dim light, its ornate carved form is hard to take in. It's something like a flattened chair. A panel for his lower half, one for his upper, and a round disk for his head. Knotted coiling bars too narrow to comfortably rest on stretch out to hold the limbs in a star-shaped pattern. Every inch of it is carved with arcane symbols.
Claire presents him to the head of the coven who looks him over as if he's an unworthy piece of fruit in the produce department. She says, "Claire Wilmott, is it your wish to train this applicant in the sacred ways of the unseen path?"
"It is."
"Do you vouch for this applicant and take responsibility for her and ensure she heeds the ways of our coven and the witching world?"
"I do."
"Are you ready to have your fate tied to her until she is deemed fit to practice magic on her own?"
"I am."
The older witch dips her hands in a bowl and using a black substance draws a mark on the center of Clair's chest just above her breasts. Then, she turns to Ian.
"Ivy Larkin, do you dare to embark on training on the unseen path despite the danger to your life and sanity?"
He hadn't heard about it being a risk to either before, but it doesn't deter him. "I am."
The witch puts a symbol on his stomach with the black goo. It's cold and slimy and it take all his willpower not to recoil from the tickling touch of the old witch's finger.
"Do you promise to heed the ways of this coven and the witching world for evermore?"
"I do."
She puts smaller symbols on each of his shoulders.
"Do you submit yourself to obey your master and do everything she commands you?"
"I do."
A mark is sketched on his forehead.
"Are you ready to have your fate tied to your master, Claire Wilmott, until you are deemed fit to practice magic on your own?"
"I am."
The final symbol is drawn on. It's the same one as Claire received and in the same place. Other witches come and direct him to the copper alter. They guide him onto it and hold him steady on the precarious perch until others strap his arms and legs down into the bars.
Any residual body heat the metal may have held from the prior apprentices has been stolen by the night air. And the copper is freezing against his bare skin. The angles of the panels and the disk makes his position uncomfortable, and the weight of his arms and legs seem to dig themselves into the bars. The contraption appears to have been designed for maximum discomfort.
The witches begin chanting and slowly circling him. At times, the group repeats the same line over and over while one of the witches recites a phrase loud enough to push the other voices into the background.
It seems to go on forever, and Ian's head gets foggy and his vision blurs.
Suddenly he is alone and not alone. The tridecal of witches feels very far away. Their chanting a distant buzz. But something is with him. Surrounding him. Inside of him. It's like an unseen vapor seeping through every cell. It seems to speak to him in a hundred different voices all a once. Some speaking in unison. Others overlapping. But there discussion is not in words. At least not any he understands. Instead, his mind fills with images and impressions. They debate his worthiness. They realize he does not belong in this reality, and question whether he should be expelled back into his own. In the end, they seem to come to the decision that even if he doesn't belong, he is still worthy to have magic. But then they argue about his body being out of alignment with his soul, until a decisive chorus declares that they will impose balance.
The night's cold is gone, replaced be a raging fire. Ian's body jolts, pulling away from the altar every place it isn't firmly tethered. His back arches in agony as his muscles twist and writhe and his bones reshapes themselves. He wants to scream but his voice is gone. There is such unbearable pain in his body, he would rip the skin off if his hands weren't tied in the hopes of freeing some of agony.
He loses consciousness and when he comes-to the cold is back. His body is soaked in sweat and the breeze blows like ice across it. He lies slack on the alter sliding half off. The leather bindings have slackened and no longer hold him firm. Hands come to untie him and lift him onto his feet.
"Rise, Apprentice Larkin," the head of the coven says.
He stands on weak legs with witches holding his arms keeping him from falling.
His vision comes into focus to see the Claire and the older woman looking down on him. Even though he is taller than Claire and about the same height as the coven's head. Or at least he was. But he's no longer the same.
A glance downward reveals breasts and body entirely alien to him. It's narrower on the whole but the hips are wider. He'd never had much muscle mass, but now his legs are ridiculously thin. And nothing hangs down between them. All that he can see there is a triangular patch of dark purple pubic hair.
"I remand you into the hands of your master. Serve her well."
Claire says, "Come now, Ivy. The ceremony is complete."
Ian follows her across the lawn away from the circle and away from the main building. Still naked, he shivers from the cold. He struggles to keep up while inspecting as much as his body as he can. He knew he'd be turned into a girl, but it stuns him that he is one now. So much of him now seems smaller and more delicate or else rounder with more movement than he's used to. His breasts seem overly large to him and bounce with each step. And the jiggling from his backend confuses him. He knows why it's happening, but each time it does his mind needs to process it from scratch again.
"Hurry along," Claire says. "You can gawk at yourself some other time."
He rushes to catch up with her and trots submissively a few feet behind her.
They reach a small stone cottage on the edge of the woods at the back of the compound. Claire opens the door, and they step into a warm little room. The clutter is so dense there are no clear surface. The downstairs is clearly visible as being only a small sitting room and a kitchen. A steep set of stairs lead to a second story.
"Clean up in the kitchen." She points to the black symbols still on his skin. "Then, make some tea."
"Uhh...sure."
With a serious look on her face, Claire says, "You'll be expected to call me master when any of the coven is around, so it's best to get into practice when we're alone. I don't want to be forced to punish you because you forget. Okay?"
"Uhh...Okay...Master."
She smiles pleased at Ivy's response and something melts in her. It feels so good to please her master.
She remembers what she's been instructed and looks down at the black goo on her skin. "Master, may I ask a question?"
"You may."
"What are this symbols for? Do they do anything?" Then, when it occurs to him he forgot something, says, "Master."
"It's mostly just tradition and ritual. But..." She points to the marking on his chest. "These do create a bond between us during the ceremony. In a way we're related now. That's why you look the way you do."
She gestures to a wall mirror, and his eyes become entrances at the sight in it. He looks like a smaller, younger version of Claire. Too young, he thinks. With his big wide eyes and soft round face, no one would believe he was eighteen. His eyes travel down to his breasts and their pink nipples hard and erect from the night's chill.
Claire starts to go up the stairs. Over her shoulder, she says, "Oh, and the one on your forehead is a minor obedience charm."
Obedience charm?
At first Ivy's alarmed by this. But then he realizes Master did say "minor," and he really didn't feel any different.
He goes and wipes the marks off with a cloth at the sink before filling the kettle with water. When it's boiled, he locates a china tea pot and some cups and gets it all ready.
Claire comes down wearing a loose black gown that may be a nightie or just a casual house dress. She sits in a chair by the fire and motions for him to put the tray with the tea down on the table beside her.
"Ivy, you are not let allowed to eat in my presence. You may have your tea in the kitchen when I'm finished."
Ivy stands there uncomfortably as Master sips at her tea. "Um...Master, I don't have any clothes. Shouldn't I get something? A uniform perhaps?"
She puts the cup down and looks at Ivy sternly. "You will find, Little One, that all the privileges that you took for granted will have to be earned here. Clothes are one of these. This is the way of the coven. We've all been through it." Perhaps sensing a rebuttal on Ivy's tongue, she continues, "If you want to become a witch you will accept this and strive to do your best to earn both these privileges and my approval. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master."
She goes back to her tea.
Ivy isn't crazy about this development, but then it makes sense that being an apprentice wouldn't be easy. So long as he learns magic, he can put up with some inconveniences. He asks, "Master, will we start with my training tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow, you will clean this house from top to bottom. Training is another privilege you must earn." He's about to say something, but she continues, "Now, please let me have a moment of quiet. That ceremony was very taxing. If you like, you may sit by my feet."
"Thank you, Master," he says and finds a spot on the floor, where he can rest against her legs. He expects to be cold and for the floor to be hard and uncomfortable. But the fire warms him. And the deep feeling of contentment he gets from being so near to his master outweighs the floor's lack of padding.
