Corvus Corax                by: Rocketman

 

My eyes fluttered open and a yawn escaped my lips. Then, reality hit me.

Instead of the dimly lit room I had been expecting, I was in one overflowing with light. The sloping walls, the floor, they all seemed to glow. Glancing to my right, I tried to find Sandra. Her form was not present.

"Sandy?" My voice reverberated softly around the room. Our bedroom was not big enough to allow that. That meant I wasn’t in our bedroom anymore. Which begged the question, where was I?

"Hello?" Another unanswered echo. I felt a cold chill.

As my eyes began to focus, I looked around.

The room was shaped like a rounded cone, with the bed I sat upon at the center.

The bed was quite peculiar. It was oak and had silky, pink covers on it. The pillows against which my head rested were bright red and heart-shaped. Shaking my head, I leaned over the side and discovered the floor was carpeted pink.

Resting on the floor was a frilly bathrobe and a small pair of slippers. My feet dwarfed the tiny objects.

Running a hand through my shaggy hair, I glanced across the room and got the shock of my life.

On top of the dresser on the opposite side of the room was a mirror. The mirror reflected my image. I was clothed in a nightgown. A woman’s nightgown.

The gown was made of silk and had a silvery quality to it. I knew it wasn’t a man’s nightgown because of the low neckline and arm straps. Looking down, I examined the garment. While it was tight around my body, it seemed designed to fit me.

Slipping the straps off my shoulders, I began to slide the gown off.

Then, I heard the voice.

"What are you doing?" it boomed.

Glancing around, I discovered that I was still alone. There must have been a PA hidden somewhere.

"Who are you?"

"My question takes precedence over yours. Answer now."

I looked around, confused. "I’m taking this thing off." I gestured to the gown.

"Unacceptable. I did not give you permission to do such a thing."

"Why would I need your permission?"

"I will ask the questions."

Silence.

"Do you require sustenance?"

Feeling my stomach, I had to admit that I was quite hungry at the moment. "I do."

"Lie on the bed."

I complied. A moment later, several robotic arms came out from underneath the bed and restrained me. One of the arms had a hypodermic needle attached. I gulped.

The needle jabbed into my side. I felt as though the end went all the way into my stomach. It stayed in for several seconds then retracted. The arms that were restraining me also retreated and vanished under the bed.

"Your caloric reserves have been replenished."

I got up from the bed and glanced underneath the mattress. There was nothing there, no hidden openings where the arms might have emerged from, or suspicious metal sections that might be the arms themselves.

Perplexed with the bed, I glanced at the rest of the room. There was a toilet and sink alongside the room, as well as a couch and a bookshelf.

But that was it.

Seeing nothing else of interest, I glanced at the bookshelf. Each and every one of the books on the shelf hailed from the same genre, romance. There was The Passionate Affair, Feelings of the Heart, and Desperate Love, all of which Sandra had as well, along with others that I had never seen before.

I hated romance novels with a vengeance.

"Who are you?" I asked the voice again.

"You will not ask that question."

"What is my purpose here? Why did you bring me?"

"Those are questions you cannot ask."

"What am I supposed to do?"

This time the voice didn’t respond immediately. After a moment, it said, "You are Michael Tarkin, correct?"

"Correct."

"What did you normally do?"

"I’m a writer."

"What did you write?"

"I wrote mystery novels."

"Do that now then." I was beginning to get nervous.

"How?"

"There’s a pile of paper and a pen to your right."

Two things shocked me about what the voice had said. First of all, it didn’t chastise me for asking a question, second of all, its answer was incorrect. But then I looked to my right and got an even bigger surprise. Lying on the ground, right next to the bookshelf, was a tall pile of paper with a pen sitting on top.

"What are you?"

"You will not ask that."

I had to think of a better-crafted question, "What shall I call you when I need you?"

The voice remained silent for a moment, probably trying to sense a flaw in my question so that it could cast it off as well.

"You may refer to me as Corvus Corax. However, Corvus will be sufficient."

"What do you want from me, Corvus?"

"That is a thing you will discover in time."

Silence.

I sighed; I was going to have to keep this ridiculous gown on until Corvus told me to change. Walking around, I discovered that the gown wasn’t the only strange thing I was wearing.

Moving about it, felt like I had something wedged up my ass.

I hiked up the gown and discovered that I was also wearing a pair of cotton panties.

Pink, frilly cotton panties.

My dick rested underneath the material, desperately pushing, trying to get out.

Hoping that Corvus wasn’t watching, I grabbed ahold of the panties and began to pull them off my body.

"You will not do that," intoned Corvus.

"Why?"

"You will not ask that."

This was beginning to get frustrated, "Corvus, please. I’m a male, the clothes you’ve given me are a female’s."

"You are human. What you are wearing are clothes that humans wear. I do not see any difference." My mind suddenly jumped. The way that Corvus spoke, his name, and his indifference of humanity. All that told me that I might not be on Earth anymore.

"Where am I?"

"Your location is irrelevant."

"Not to me."

"It is irrelevant. Why do you displease me by refusing to cooperate with my wishes?"

"What are your wishes?"

"Write."

Interesting. Aliens bring a writer to a far away location and they want to him to write them something.

Why?

With a sigh, I walked over to a pile of papers and sat down.

I took the pen into my hand and tapped it against the paper. My mind was blank.

"Why are you not writing?"

"I can’t think of anything to write."

"I foresaw this failing. That is why I’ve provided you with adequate materials from which to draw upon."

He was talking about the romance novels, I realized. "Corvus, the books you provided me with are not of the same type that I write".

"That is not significant."

"Yes, it is! I’m a mystery writer, these are romance stories."

"What difference is there between the two?"

"A huge difference. In a romance novel, a man and a woman fall in love and face tribulations that test their love, stuff like that. In a mystery novel, a crime is committed by someone and police detectives try to figure out who committed it."

Silence.

Great, I thought. Explaining crime and love to an alien.

"The second one you describe is of no interest to me. However, the first is. It is the kind you will write."

Sigh. Great, he wants me to provide him with new romance novels and I’m a mystery writer.

"I have no experience with writing romance stories. I don’t even have the first idea about how to write one."

"That is why I have provided you with these materials from which to draw upon."

"I don’t like writing romance novels."

"Why?"

This one stumped me, not because I had doubts about my feelings but because I was being forced into a corner. "Humans have preferences, passions and things they especially enjoy. For me it’s writing mysteries. I don’t feel the same way about romance writing."

"Why is this your preference?"

"I like analyzing problems and guiding my audience through the solution."

"What kind of person is a romance writer?"

"Well, most often woman write romance novels."

"Men are not known for this?"

"They’re not known for it."

I sighed, hopeful that I had convinced Corvus that I wasn’t the right one for the job.

"We will have to remedy this. Lie down on the bed again."

"What are you going to do?"

"You will find out momentarily. Lie on the bed."

Not about to argue with a possibly powerful alien presence, I laid on the bed. Immediately the robot arms retracted and hovered over my body. The needle arm jabbed my side. Within moments, I was unconscious.

When I awoke, I heard Corvus saying, "Now you will be able to write romance novels."

Feeling very groggy, I had little understanding of what Corvus had just said.

I reached my arms around in front of me to rub my eyes. Two sensitive lumps on my chest hindered them. Letting my arms fall, I stared straight ahead.

I had two, protruding breasts.

Needless to say, I was stunned.

My breasts pushed softly against the front of the gown, making a noticible sight. Sitting up, I felt them shift with gravity and answer back with an unusual tingle.

Staring in the mirror, I was stunned by the image that reflected back at me.

I was a woman, as though I had been born one.

My shaggy brown hair had become long and silky. My face, hirsute and virile mere minutes ago, was now small, prissy and hairless.

My neck, once thick with a large Adam’s apple, was now graceful, slender, and devoid of such an apple.

My chest, needless to say, possessed breasts. They seemed quite large on me, but I realized that they probably no more than a B or C cup. My torso, once large and hairy, was now also trim and effeminate.

My waist, barely visible through the silky gown, once straight and simple, was now curvaceous and womanly. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I lifted the gown up and looked underneath.

A quick glance was all that was required to confirm my fate. The cotton panties, through which a virile penis had once bulged, now hugged a flat crotch.

Flat, completely flat. But, as I soon realized when I let my hand drift across my groin, not one completely vacant. A vagina, my vagina.

My legs and arms were not left out of the transformation; both had become lithely and small compared with my former appendages.

It appeared I had been changed into a female, idealized version of myself. How exactly this had been done eluded me. Why it had been done was the question I wanted an answer to.

"Corvus?"

"I am present."

"Why have you changed me into a woman?"

"So you can write."

"WHAT?!"

"An increase in spoken volume is unnecessary. You said that you would be unable to write romance novels unless you were a woman. Therefore, I corrected the problem."

I shook my head. For such a seemingly bright alien, Corvus sure acted dumb.

"I said men were not known for it and women were. But, those women were born that way. They had a lifetime of experience from which to draw upon."

"I see, you require a woman’s mind. I will acquire one for you."

"No, Corvus. Don’t do that. I don’t need it."

Silence. He wasn’t responding. I was getting worried, this was serious. First, this alien changes me into a woman to fix my inadequacies for romance writing. Now, it’s going to give me a woman’s mind so I could draw upon those experiences. This was getting heavy.

I had to figure a way out here before I forgot who I even was.

Corvus returned, "I have acquired a mind. Lie on the bed."

"I was wrong, Corvus. A woman’s mind won’t help me as much I told you."

Corvus wasn’t listening, "Lie on the bed. You have no choice."

Realizing I wasn’t in a position to fight Corvus, I complied with his order. The robots retracted and the needle bot jabbed me in the arm.

Instead of darkness rolling over me, a flash of memories hit me. Birth, childhood, all moving by like a bio-film on fast-forward.

Soon, I realized this wasn’t just any ordinary life. It was the experiences of someone I knew very closely. Someone I loved.

It was Sandra’s memories.

The bastard had ripped her brain from her body, probably in her sleep, and melted it down.

With every experience I ran through, a little piece of Michael Tarkins died, pushed aside by my new identity. Sandra’s identity.

It was both reassuring and disturbing. Reassuring, because I knew that Sandra would live on in me. Disturbing, because I didn’t know what I would become when it was all done.

Slowly, but surely, a new me emerged. When I thought about my fifth birthday, instead of remembering the red fire engine I got, I remembered the dolly and dresses.

My first day of school. Gone was the embarrassing memory of wetting my pants, replaced by the memory of making three new friends. My first kiss. Cassidy Trenton in my room, substituted by Fred Thomas in the park.

The prom, a void filled by a wonderful night of gay dancing and happiness. I had to admit, not all the stuff I was receiving was unpleasant, it was just unsettling to lose what I had had before. I still knew I had a mother as a man, but her name eluded me. Sandra’s mother’s name though, Barbara, was fresh in my mind.

I wanted to cry, cry the confusion away into oblivion. Instead I spoke. Pushing away the images flying past me, I spoke to Corvus, "Alien, why is this happening? Why did you want me?"

Why had I called him that? Because that’s what he was and I had to admit it to myself.

Corvus was silent for a moment. The final days of Sandra’s life sped by, leading up to last night and her last conscious memory, a kiss from me.

"I’m not an alien."

There was a flash of light and I found myself in another bed. The covers were instantly familiar to me, this was our bed. Was it all just a dream? How had I awakened? Was I awake now?

I looked to my left and discovered that Sandra wasn’t right next to me, the left edge of the bed was. Looking to my right, I discovered a sleeping form. A male, sleeping form.

I rose and walked over to the mirror on the adjacent wall. Sandra’s form greeted me. She was clothed in the gown she was wearing last night. I touched my face. Her reflection did the same.

I smiled; the reflection mimicked me exactly. I laughed softly. Soon it became a full belly laugh and then quickly evolved into a madwoman’s cackle.

"Sandy?" asked the man, awaked by my outburst.

I walked back to the bed and sat down beside him.

"Kiss me."

He frowned, but wasn’t he about to deny my request. The kiss was wonderful. It was sweet and affectionate, a lover’s kiss. Romantic also came to mind. I would mark this moment.

Looking into Michael’s eyes, I wondered what had happened, then an instant later, I didn’t care. Aliens, madness, whatever, it didn’t matter.

I was where I was supposed to be.

 

The End…….maybe

 

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