Hunter stared blankly at the spring as Artemis looked over him from a few paces away, giving him some space to let everything sink in.

Become a Champion of Artemis. Forcibly feminize people, or at least help people trapped within a physical form they can’t escape from, maybe. Change them, give them something better. 

Receive a goddess's blessing.

He looked between Artemis and the spring for a moment. “I hope this is not disrespectful, why not do this yourself?”

“A fair question,” Artemis said. “I need more…specialized followers. Ones who may take a narrow concept that embodies my domain, and then execute that concept efficiently and spectacularly,” Artemis hesitated for a moment. “There is more, however I consider it personal. I would need you to become my champion before I go deeper.”

“Okay,” Hunter said, doing his best not to tremble. “What if I say no?”

“Then you are free to go, though not without a lesson or two.” the goddess said.

Hunter almost threw in a ‘what?’ as a follow up, but elected to ignore confronting that terrifying statement on its own, lest he get too far ahead of himself.

“What do you mean by ‘blessing’?”

Artemis smiled. “I would grant you access to a part of my well of power. With it you’d possess immortality, you may notice your superior marksmanship more, and you gain the ability to transform yourself and others. You will also gain an affinity for magic in a more general sense, though that is outside my domain. You would be able to cast from a spellbook, as an example. There are more powers; however, those will take time before I may entrust you with them.”

“That all fits the theme, here…” Hunter stood up straighter and looked at Artemis, his gaze becoming resolute. “I saw the looks on the girls that were collateral damage from what you did. All of them looked…happy. Fulfilled. If my responsibilities for working with you are to make a difference and actually help the people who need it instead of just having me as a target, it’s a no-brainer for me to accept. As long as I’m not hurting people.” Hunter watched Artemis’s reaction carefully.

Unexpectedly, the goddess just grinned. “You are making a key assumption there, though the intent of your statement is clear. No, I do not expect you to hunt your targets with as much…zeal, as I did to you. You, of course, may take as many liberties as you need, yet I do intend for you to give back to the world in the end.”

Hunter shakily nodded. That was a relief, for as much as a certain other person loved the idea of becoming a girl through nothing more than the will of the divine, Hunter was more in favor of comfier, lighter and softer methods of gender affirmation. Though even having an opinion on it felt extremely weird to him.

He had his answer. “Considering how much potential there is to bring a lot of good, then I accept your blessing.”

“Thank you,” Artemis smiled. “In that case, please disrobe and bathe in the spring.”

“Pardon?” Hunter blinked several times in succession.

The goddess sighed. “This ritual is meant to celebrate who you are, without any material possessions to distract you, at least at first. Purity is after all, quite important to me. It can take different meanings depending on the person and especially in this more…flexible and progressive era, I consider it important to at least respect my rituals even if you would not follow them in your daily life."

Hunter paled as he realized what was about to happen. “This ritual…it’s going to change me, isn’t it?” Hunter sighed with resignation.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Look at me,” Artemis commanded. Hunter, not expecting such an order, complied and turned his head back to face her. Artemis walked forward to him, her eyes never straying from his. She leaned forward ever-so-slightly, her head bowing down just enough to almost be at his own height level. She wore a firm expression, one which imposed an air of authority. 

“When you become my champion, would you consider yourself to be your own quarry?”

After everything he had endured and overcome, Hunter never bothered to think about the actual applicability of the missed transformations themselves. He objected to the principle of them. If he was turned into a girl because of a divine ritual, was that fundamentally disrespecting his own gender identity? Everything he had worked for up to this point was to make sure he remained as a man, right?

How much over the last couple weeks did he actually think about being a man, anyway? 

Barely at all. The focus was always on the threat of becoming a woman. It wasn’t scary because of some macho, primal desire to be a manly man. No, Hunter considered himself pretty good about avoiding the common pitfalls of toxic masculinity, though he was aware that subject was its own beast. His fears were about control and the loss of his own identity. Even though he intellectually knew that gender was merely one, however small or large, aspect of his own identity. 

If Hunter were to place himself in the position of the person about to be turned into a girl, what was the greater thread guiding him through his journey? Was he the unwilling guy about to be thrown into the wringer, or the reluctant ‘egg’ about to learn many, many truths about how they were actually transgender? Or was he constraining himself too much by those narratives, and was on his own individual and personal path?

How much did all of that actually matter in the moment?

No wonder it was so easy to obsess over every gender-related detail. Before all of this, Hunter could interact with gender identity as an emotionally distant concept, so to have it brought to him to force him to acknowledge and interact with said concept, of course it was going to feel personal.

The threat of forced feminization came knocking. 

Perhaps that was the common theme, here. As much as he hated to admit it, it could be considered a good thing to have a little bit of a wake-up call every now and then. Specifically, reminders that it was okay to consciously evaluate what gender meant to you. Maybe not repeated slaps in the face like what happened to him, obviously, but maybe a light tap on the shoulder would cause a lot of people to actually engage with a part of their identity that was so frequently pushed aside.

Artemis was still waiting for an answer. Would Hunter consider himself to be in need of help understanding his own gender?

“I…don’t know,” Hunter’s shoulders slumped, and his arms hung limply at his sides. “I really don’t know.”

Artemis’s expression changed to a more sympathetic one, and she leaned in close enough to Hunter’s face where she could comfortably speak in a hushed whisper. “You must have conviction, because you need to truly believe you are taking the right course of action. If you do not believe in the righteousness of your own mission, how would you expect anyone else to believe in it for you?”

Hunter looked to the side, steeling himself for a moment as he unbuttoned his shirt.

He needed to believe in himself.

To confront his fears.

It was all about identity, at the end of the day. Being tricked, cornered, or coerced into forcibly being remade and reshaped into someone who was not him. That was what had kept Hunter going through all of Artemis’s convoluted plots to get to him. That if one of them had succeeded, it wouldn’t be Hunter staring back at him through the mirror.

What defined ‘Hunter’, exactly? 

Was it the way he looked?

If he decided to shave his head bald, was he killing who he believed ‘Hunter’ to be? Of course not.

He took off his shirt as Artemis backed away to give him some privacy.

He stared at the nail polish on him. That didn’t kill him, either. Maybe Hunter was the type to shave his own head bald, or wear nail polish. Neither of those two things could invalidate the identity of Hunter the person. 

Therefore, it would be fair to say Hunter’s identity should not be tied down to what he looked like. Granted, at least within the bounds of what kept him comfortable. Did that mean he was uncomfortable with the idea his body would be altered in an uncontrolled and unfamiliar manner?

Well, yes. If he were to ask himself what specifically would be uncomfortable, he wouldn’t be able to give any kind of answer. Maybe that ray gun would have given him long hair, or Dan would unearth a strange person-sized suit that when zipped up, would change him into a completely different person. 

In response to that particular hypothetical, Hunter had left Dan’s apartment early that night.

Maybe he should have engaged with the hypotheticals more, and actually thought them through in detail, without keeping them at bay with a wave of casual dismissiveness. Maybe he could have learned quicker. Then all of this wouldn’t feel so nebulous. So unknown.

Hunter set the last of his clothes in a neat pile on the ground.

The unknowns about identity. He had never been through a transformation, so of course he couldn’t apply any sort of facts to himself. Yet even without transformation involved, it wasn’t like Hunter knew much about changing himself to begin with. Yet the very core concept of change didn’t have to be frightening. 

It was an opportunity to learn more about yourself.

Back at the apartment, when he was attempting to make Dan comfortable with transitioning, he’d told Dan to always try something once.

Maybe it was time for him to put that into action. Make it his choice, this time. As much as a choice under a bit of duress could be a choice.

He dipped his toes into the water.

No going back now.

He waded into the deeper part of the spring, his heart pounding, hands shaking. 

Did this even count as forced? He was going into the spring willingly.

Though Artemis said he would be free to go if he refused, she mentioned that he would be taught a lesson. A harsh lesson, he suspected. But one that was a long time coming. Even here, though he had certainly avoided all of the forced attempts, he was strongly persuaded and pushed into making the choice to play along willingly in the first place.

He knew, deep down, that he needed this push. He couldn't have done this all on his own.

The water enveloped him up to neck level. 

Seconds passed, each one more tense than the other.

Then he noticed his feet were no longer submerged in water.

Hunter floated slightly above the spring, and then a pink aura identical to the one he’d seen being used on the girl from the museum enveloped him.

He hoped nobody was staring at him. That would be rude.

His head changed shape. His bones rotated. He shrank in height. Lost some fat in a few areas. Gained some in others. The texture of his skin changed.

His body changed. He did not.

The aura faded, and he was gently lowered back into the spring without as much as a splash.

After a moment to collect himself, he waded back to dry land, taking care to avoid tripping on the way back. (For fear of ruining the moment.)

Upon exiting the water, he reached for his clothes, only to notice he was wearing a bracelet he didn't have on before. He let out a yelp in a voice that was definitely different than before, and gave himself a once over.

He had on the green dress Artemis had worn in the VR game, for starters. And enough other clothes for him to at least give him a sense of modesty with a feminine tilt, including shoes with a subtle heel. He certainly wouldn’t have worn any of this on his own, he would have turned his nose up at them without a second thought.

Nuance. Even though he willingly waded into the spring, the clothes that were chosen for his first outfit were unmistakably feminine. He tugged at the dress a little bit, experimentally rubbing the wet fabric through his fingertips.

All of this was certainly new, but not bad new. Just new.

That was all this was. A new experience. He took in a few deep breaths to steady himself.

He sat on the ground right next to the edge of the spring. He leaned over the water and caught the reflection of his face.

Despite his more prominent cheekbones and eyes, and the lack of stubble, this was still his face.

Hunter's face.

Hunter smiled. He sat there for a few minutes. The ‘what ifs’ plaguing his mind had evaporated, turning into relief that despite everything, he was still himself. Or whichever flavor of himself he wished to be.

He almost didn't notice when Artemis sat next to him, watching with a comforting gaze. "How do you feel?" the goddess asked.

"I feel…normal. There are differences, of course, but they aren’t what I expected from this," Hunter admitted, once again noting his voice had a subtle alteration which took away some of his natural raspiness, but it was still him.

If Hunter considered him to be a valid pronoun, of course.

"Care to elaborate?" Artemis asked gently.

"It's hard to say," Hunter placed a finger on his chin, consciously appreciating that it was smooth now. "It's like I went on a walk at night, instead of day. Both are experiencing a similar landscape, yet under different conditions. Neither one is better than the other, and both could be beautiful experiences."

"Well said.” Artemis smiled, then her firmness came back. “It is possible you may not have a preference for one form over another. Or you find your preferences manifest in different ways at certain times. "

“Huh,” Hunter ran a hand over his hair. “I hadn’t considered that. That instead of being locked into a gender identity, what had actually happened to me could be considered…a release of the chains attaching me to my own preconceived notions of gender.”

“Many don’t.” A wink. “Though I will admit I tend to play favorites. I am a protector of young women, after all. For as much as you may or may not consider yourself in said category.”

“I…” Hunter stammered. “It’s okay to be one? It all feels so…open. I spent all of this time afraid, and now I’m…free.” He started to preemptively wipe his face, in case a few tears had leaked out. Just in case.

“Yes,” Artemis almost wrapped her arm around Hunter, though restrained herself. Hunter, noticing that, gave a small nod. With permission being granted, Artemis rested her arm on his shoulder. “That is your lesson. Once you find yourself through the tunnel, do not consider it the end of your journey. There is so much more to do. In any case, you have the ability to transform yourself freely; that is one of my gifts. If you find you do not like something, make a change."

"Thank you." Hunter smiled, feeling for the first time in a couple weeks that he could safely breathe.

He had just been transformed. Only somewhat forcibly, at least. He sat there with a body that would definitely have passersby gender him as a woman.

It didn't bother him, after all.

Having a feminine-presenting body didn't mean he was locked into female pronouns. Or any pronouns. Artemis was right, Hunter could make whichever changes he wanted.

He stared at his hands. Two fingers with green nail polish on.

Make that ten.

Hunter grinned as he looked over his nails. He could get used to making changes. Or she could get used to making changes?

How did pronouns work, anyway?

Hunter didn't feel like a 'he' right now. Or a 'she' right now, to be perfectly honest.

What about 'they'? That was neutral and not tied to a gender. That seemed appropriate, for now.

They stood up, and Artemis matched them. They started at Artemis for a moment, until they gave in and enveloped her in a hug. The goddess, taken aback by the sudden turnaround in what levels of affection were allowed, decided to go with it.

When Hunter pulled back, Artemis had a sly grin. "I thought you requested no touching?" 

Hunter looked a bit sheepish. “I’ve been under pressure for so long. I can…finally relax and know that it’s over.”

“Your time being the quarry is over, yes," The goddess corrected. “Now I pass the metaphorical torch to you. Your time as my champion is just getting started.”

Hunter played with the hem of their dress. “Oh, yeah. Can’t wait to follow in your footsteps and start transforming people for fun,” they said with a healthy amount of sarcasm. 

Artemis sighed. “There was a time when I would have struck you down for your insolence. Which is the point. I’m ready to tell you why I need champions like you.”

Hunter’s posture stiffened at the acknowledgement that things used to be worse, and wisely closed their mouth and listened.

“The Greek pantheon could not continue as it was. Gods fighting each other over the pettiest of squabbles, with mortals paying the largest price. I have committed actions that I regret. The day came where it all fell apart,” Artemis had a single tear in her eye. “I survived. Some others survived, for better or worse. Many were killed. Our era was over. And we got what we deserved, and arguably less than we deserved.” The goddess looked to the side for a moment, and then focused back on Hunter.

“I don’t want you to follow in my footsteps. I want you to do a better job with our power, than I have.”

Hunter could only mouth the word ‘wow’ in response, and nervously played with a strand of their ever-so-slightly longer hair. That was a lot to live up to.

In a strange manner, that partially mirrored some of Dan’s summations on what the world was like for trans people. The generations before them (or us, now?) struggled a lot with finding their own voice. Many still struggle. And yet, so many trans people wish to provide future generations with the support that they wanted all along.

“You will not find it difficult to succeed.” Artemis said, evidently noticing Hunter's nervousness. They idly wondered if gods had the ability to read minds. “You do not have the blood on your hands that I do. There is a part of me that had too much fun toying with you without regard to your wellbeing.”

“Therapy will cover that for me,” Hunter quipped.

Artemis let out a soft chuckle. “Do you have enough to understand what your mission is, then?” She asked, obviously keen on changing the subject.

“Yeah. Hunt people who desperately need to be transformed, and help them. Don’t be a dick.” 

Artemis smirked. “Cruder language than I would prefer, however I am pleased you understand the message. Now stand up. It is time to bring you back to your friend.”

Artemis stood up and offered a hand. Hunter, recognizing the symbolic gesture, gladly took it. They took a moment to enjoy the spring breeze ticking their bare legs, dress swaying ever so slightly. It felt good, for lack of a more eloquent term. Not something they would want one hundred percent of the time, but every now and then it might be nice to try something different.

The goddess and her champion walked back from the spring, approaching Artemis’s temple and headed inside.

Dan was there, sitting down on the floor, gently playing with one of the vines with a worried expression on his face.

Oh, right.

Dan.

They were going to have to face their friend like this.