Amidst the darkness of the first floor lab, Whistler had failed to note a small hatch door leading into one of the walls. Crawling inside, there was only space for two cots and a small table against the wall between them, most likely used for breaks from growing strange empty bodies.

“N-now just place the r-relic between us…” The old man wheezed, for once looking comfortable laying on his back. Opposite to him laid the body liberated from the green lit container. 

Her figure was fairly thin, only with her lower body showing any signs of putting on weight while being grown. Her long blonde hair parted down the middle, still damp from recently being liberated from the vat, and reached down to her tailbone. After a light physical examination to ensure that it was possible, Flamel believed the body to be suitable for… whatever it was he planned on doing.

Whistler did as he was told, far too shocked to fight back, let alone comprehend what was unfolding before him. With only the hatch open letting in the lights from the displays just outside, now glowing blue, he had to rely on the purple glow from the ‘relic’, as the professor called it, to place it on the simple wooden end table between the two occupied cots. “So, you’re…?” 

“Y-yes, I am going to trade bodies with the-” Breaking out into a coughing fit, the old man looked over at the item he brought along with him longingly after quieting down. “R-regrettable that there will be some differences, b-but I’ll make due, I suppose…”

Whistler looked upon the situation unfolding before him: an old man, through some means he could not hope to understand, was setting himself to transfer himself into the body of the naked woman beside him who, in all but appearance, appeared dead.

He wished he brought a bottle of gin with him inside.

“D-don’t worry… about me.” Flamel looked on, unable to lift his head now, “I-I’ve been… Pr-preparing this for… A while.”

The captain was still far too caught up to sympathize, “Uh… Sure thing.”

With his last assurance made, the old professor began to chant. Unlike the labored speech he had, the incantation was flawless without interruption. After a solid minute of non-stop speech, the blue lights from the machines in the other room began to flicker.

As he continued, the relic the professor brought with him began to levitate from the table. As it’s glow grew stronger, now filling the room with a lavender glow, the room began to shake. 

No, not the room, the whole island.

“Uh… Gramps?” Whistler finally managed, “What are you doing?”

The old man continued his chanting, deaf to the pleading and tumbling stones around them. Strange symbols began to alight on the wall, projected from some unseen force and glided over the rough stone moving in tandem with each other in a nonlinear pattern.  The purple glow from the item brought along shifted into a pure white radiance as it continued to levitate, gently rotating over itself. 

He did not notice it at first, but a white wisp emerged from between the elderly man’s lips. It moved like a comet but slower, streaking out of the professor’s body before haphazardly moving around the tight room. A couple times, it flew by Whistler who was determined not to touch the strange spirit. The professor was silent as the island continued to shake, seemingly tied to the relic and the esoteric symbols it manifested onto the rough hewn walls. 

Finally, apparently finding what the wisp was looking for, it collided into the relic, infusing it’s white light with the one suffused from the flask shaped crystal. Upon fusing together, the island stopped rumbling. The glyphs still projected on the walls, but no longer revolved around the ritual site as the still glowing relic gently floated back down onto the table, it’s white aura now almost searing the air around it.

“Is… That it-?”

Not even allowing Whistler a second to process what had occurred after asking his question, the crystal bottle shook slightly before bursting the wisp once more out of the top like a freshly popped bottle of liquor. With renewed vigor, the spirit circumnavigated the chamber a few times more before haphazardly ramming into the face of the female corpse.  

As the spirit entered the homunculus, the relic dimmed after it’s use was fulfilled, dimming the room back into darkness once again. As a blanket of darkness draped over the room, a slight hum picked up once more as the space beyond the hatch glowed blue once more.

The captain stayed on edge for a solid two minutes, waiting for some other effect to occur. But after an uncomfortable amount of time passed without another otherworldly display manifesting before him, he dared to step between the two bodies.

Warm to the touch, the relic no longer glowed, not even it’s purple light, but had seemingly become inert. In the limited light, he could see that Flamel had stopped breathing. 

“Ughhh…” The high pitched voice came from the homunculus opposite to the old man, the first sound Whistler heard from her. “Did it…?” The voice was slurry, as if she had awoken from a crazy bender.

She looked strange trying to hold her arms out, as if not fully comprehending how the muscles worked underneath. Flexing her hands with a strange fascination, she slowly curled and uncurled her fingers, moving her arms in a series of unusual motions.

Looking down at the girl, Whistler could not help but notice her almost pink eyes, vividly visible in the near pitch darkness. Her slight figure was one that actually got him to blush despite his chronic history of bedding a variety of women. Pale white skin topped with wonderfully pink nipples blended beautifully with the blonde hair he saw she had before, shining almost effervescently. “Are you… awake?”

Groaning once more in response, she absentmindedly began to place her hands on the cot in an effort to raise herself up. Even though he carried her up just as naked as she was now, the captain was careful with her in helping her sit upright. With a few awkward eye blinks, she moved her jaw around before finally stumbling out a “Yes…?”

After a few more seconds, her mind seemed to suddenly snap into focus, “Yes! Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes!” She triumphantly yelled, nearly jumping out of the cot. Excitedly examining her arms, her chest, and stomach the girl seemed to be full of life and energy one would never expect from the near corpse he carried up the ladder just a few minutes prior.

“Are you…” Whistler was not sure how to word it, at the cost of sounding stupid, “Are you Professor Flemming?”

The girl grinned widely, her eyes glowing in the dark, “Flamel, and yes I, indeed am, my boy…”

With the Academy robes proving to be too long for her new body, Flamel opted to drape herself in a spare shirt and jacket Whistler had grown out of. Thankfully, they were long enough to hide her lack of bottoms if someone were to see her.

“So, what do you think, boy?” She leaned forward, blatantly proud of the work she had accomplished. She refused to button up the shirt fully, showcasing even more of her flat chest to the captain, “Is this the new future?”

Whistler averted his eyes from the girl who refused to sit cross-legged and excitedly showing her strangely attractive nubile chest, “I… I don’t know about that…” With the only sitting room found on the cots and the Professor’s strict refusal to sit outside, a light was brought into the space the ritual was conducted as she continued her physical examination. 

The girl, still examining the results of the transfer process poked and prodded various parts of herself with her finger, lacking any other kind of tool to test her sensitivity to touch and temperature. “Hmmm…” She concluded, her hands gently rubbing the inside of her thighs, “It seems like this was a success! I have established connections to all of my nerve endings, but to my…!”

There was one place both of them knew she avoided. 

She had a lecherous grin as she examined her nipples and the little breast tissue she had behind them, lifting them while pinching and squeezing, but the space between her legs? Too daring. Too unknown.

A slight gasp escaped her lips as she gently touched a finger somewhere on her vagina. 

The captain shifted around uncomfortably. “Maybe I could…?”

The girl sitting across from him blushed even deeper, “N-no! That’s… I shouldn’t be doing this now…!” She stood with a feigned bravado, “Let’s get off this island! I need to go tell the rest of the world my amazing work!”

Whistler boarded the ship as his now tiny companion stayed back to secure her lab. His mind still swam with everything he witnessed, ultimately ending up with the professor he brought along for a simple smuggling job turning into a cute girl. “Yeah, but she’s an old man still,” He justified, “Even if she’s… like that on the outside, she’s still a…”

Such thoughts were better unexplored, he concluded. Removing the anchor and idling the engine, he stood behind the helm, taking stock of what they had left to drive on.

“The poor girl’s been through a lot lately…” He bemoaned, recalling the damages the ship took during his most recent venture, let alone this one. “And I’m not liking the look of that.” The gas gauge was nearly empty. He joked about having to push, but aside from a spare motor that would push them up to 50 miles, the idea of lowering the vessel to below standard cruise height and swimming through the cloud sea was not a particularly comfortable one.

Double checking on the map that he might have to make an emergency stop in Slough, the captain turned off the engine to preserve oil. 

Bounding onto the ship, taking every chance to bounce around, the professor hopped, skipped and jumped around on the deck before coming up to the bridge, “Oh, this is fantastic, my boy!” She exclaimed, all smiles as she ran circles around the room up and down the slight staircases. “I haven’t felt this young since my twenties!”

“Alright Gramps, you need to cool it for a sec.” With all signs clear, he pulled away from the island and immediately set course.

The young girl finally quit running, leaning on the mast behind the wheel, smirking, “‘Gramps’? You’re still gonna call me that?”

“You’re still an old man, at least in spirit, right?” Whistler focused more on the fuel gauge than the girl showing most of her flat chest before him. Her wearing an oversized shirt of his certainly did not help, “Besides, I’m going to be the last person to know your real history, right? It should be fine for the time being until I drop you off back in Louisdale.”

Flamel waned. “You’re just gonna leave a little girl out in the middle of some town? Or an old man? Or an old man who became a little girl?!”

“I don’t gotta problem with that. I’m a smuggler, remember?” Eventually, he too would have to return to the town they both certainly are wanted in to pick up his crew. At least his client has a new identity. “Remember, you paid me to come out here and get what you wanted done. I did that, going to refuel and collect my payment.”