Argider jolted awake, shooting upright like a startled jackrabbit. Blinking wildly, he glanced down at himself. The room was familiar, achingly so, as though it had trapped him in an endless loop. But his hands? Delicate, slender, and alarmingly nimble, as if spun from fine silk. His gaze traveled lower, and... oh.
Oh.
The unmistakable swell of a fuller bosom greeted him.
"Have I...?" he whispered, her voice pitching up an octave in betrayal. "Have I turned back into a woman?"
He, or rather, she hesitantly turned her head. There was Fialova, gracefully stirring from sleep, her lashes fluttering open like a monarch butterfly testing the morning air."Argider?" Fialova murmured, voice husky with drowsiness. "Is something wrong?"Was something wrong? Where to even begin? Argider sat, stunned into a speechless stupor.
