Og's Blog Pt. 09

Og becomes a civil servant. Part 05 Starting in Devonport.

Author's Note: Because of the Official Secrets Act, this has to be regarded as a fictionalised account and names will be omitted or changed. Any names given will not be the names of real people.

Please note that Parts 01 and 02 of Og's blog are transcripts of posts made on the Authors' Hangout and typed directly as a response to other posts. Og's blogs 03 onwards have been composed at leisure and edited. Where there are discrepancies between accounts in Parts 01 and 02 and subsequent parts the later version is likely to be a more accurate version because I have had time to consult my records.


The Devonport accommodation office apologised. They had booked me into a Temperance Hotel which they knew was not the place to put a Naval Stores Officer but they did that for all new people to Plymouth/Devonport. The Temperance Hotel was just across the road from Plymouth's North Road station and there was a good bus service to Devonport Dockyard. Over the next few weeks they would find somewhere more suitable for me.

I arrived late on Saturday afternoon. After booking in and an early evening meal I decided to walk down to Union Street, Plymouth's roughest and toughest area where all the night clubs were.

I had just left a public house full of sailors and was walking to another when there was commotion outside a night club. A Marine had just been ejected and was threatening to beat up the door staff. His threat was more verbal than actual as he had difficulty standing up. A Marine Corporal came out of the night club and attempted to get the Marine to calm down. The Marine swung a punch at the Corporal who easily avoided it, but if the punch had landed the consequences could be serious. I walked up behind the Marine, wrapped him in a bear hug and lifted him off his feet. His legs were flailing wildly and he was swearing as only a Marine can when the Naval Patrol arrived. As I held his arms by his sides they put handcuffs on him and put him in the back of their Landrover.

"Thank you, sir," The Corporal said. "If he had hit me that could have been awkward."

"No worries, cobber," I said in an Australian accent. The naval patrol wanted my details. I showed them my Portsmouth Dockyard pass and told them I would be starting in Devonport on the Monday. I walked on the next public house.

On the Sunday I went to the fairly new local YMCA and joined their gym.

On Monday morning when I arrived at Devonport Dockyard at 10 am as requested, I was met by the Marine Corporal and the Marine who had been arrested on Saturday night. I was wearing my Portsmouth Dockyard pass that would be replaced by a Devonport pass today.

"Oh shit!" The Marine said. "You're a fucking officer, sir, and I might have hit you!"

I laughed.

"I might have officer status, but I'm a civilian, Marine. If you had hit me, which you were too drunk to do anyway, all that might have happened is that I would have hit you back."

"And that would have hurt," The Corporal said. "But thank you, sir. It could have been awkward if he had hit me. Thanks to you, all that happened was he spent a night in the cells to sober up..."

"... and got a bollocking from me." The Marine Sergeant had come out of the guard room.

"Welcome to Devonport, Sir. My colleagues in Portsmouth told me you were coming but I didn't expect you to save a Marine from a serious charge even before you started. Marine? Escort this officer to the naval Stores Department. And be grateful to him."

I followed the Marine through the dockyard.

"Thank you, sir," he said. "but you don't sound Australian. The Corporal told me an Australian giant had stopped me from doing something stupid."

"No, I'm not Australian, I returned from two years there a year or so ago, but I tend to revert to Aussie speak when I've had a few beers."

"A few beers? How many had you had when we met? You picked me up like a baby."

"When I met you? It was fairly early that evening. I suppose I'd had ten pints."

"Ten pints? Fucking hell! I would be unconscious after that many."

"But as your Corporal said, I'm a giant."

The Marine looked up at me.

"I suppose you are. You must weigh twice as much as me. I'm glad I didn't try to hit you."

We had arrived at the Naval Stores Department. The Marine shook my hand before leaving.

+++

I was shown the section I would be in charge of. Among many other things it dealt with anchors, chain cable, wire ropes, security furniture and metal furniture generally such as filing cabinets and cupboards. I would have a staff of twelve, almost all of whom were very experienced. The most junior Clerical Assistant was a lady 25 years old who had been in post in that section since she was fifteen. I was now a whole nineteen years old. The most senior Clerical Officers? They were gentlemen close to retirement. Both had served in the Second World War, one as a Chief Petty Officer and the other as a full Captain who had commanded a cruiser. Neither needed the pay but they were both widowers working instead of moping at home.

At once I knew that my task as being in charge of this section would be easy. The staff knew far more than I did, and although I would bear the responsibility of the rank, any of them, even the junior Clerical Assistant, could advise me. As a new boy, they might play jokes on me, but they would be unlikely to be malicious. During my first week I showed that I wanted and needed advice and if I was given it acknowledged that my actions were based on that advice. If I made a wrong decision, and I did, it was my fault. If I made the right decision it was because someone had told me how to do it.

My line supervisor was a decorated WW2 Fleet Air Arm pilot. His superior had served in Naval Stores throughout the war, and like my father, had been heavily involved in the logistics for D-Day. But he was also typical of older Naval Stores staff. He was useless before the sun was over the yardarm and had to have several drinks before he was effective. But from then onwards he was a demon full of energy and did far more between 1 pm and 5 pm than many did in an eight hour day.

On the Wednesday morning my supervisor came to see me.

"What did you do in Union Street on Saturday night? I have been sent two letters addressed to the department about you. One, from the officer in charge of the Marine dockyard security is thanks for saving a Marine from a stupid action. The other is from the office of the Naval Patrol for assisting with an arrest."

I explained what had happened.

"Um. Union Street is the most dangerous part of Plymouth, especially on Friday and Saturday nights..."

"So are parts of Portsmouth, sir," I replied, "and I've never had any trouble."

"I can see why not. But be careful, please."

"Yes, sir, I will be. But most drunks take one look and choose someone else."

+++

On the Friday at the end of my first week my superior called me into his office for a review of my actions during the week. Yes, I had made mistakes, but they were the mistakes of youthful enthusiasm, not stupidity and I had taken steps to correct them. I had also admitted my errors and taken personal responsibility for them, and said that my better decisions had been because of cogent advice, which had also helped to correct my errors. Importantly I hadn't made the same mistake twice.

He was reasonably pleased that I had made a sound start. But he had a problem for me, a problem that my predecessors hadn't been able to solve in the previous fifteen years. He gave me a fat file to read.

In 1943 the stocktake of anchors had shown three old very large anchors that were obsolete. They had been spares for pre-dreadnought battleships. When the next stocktake had been carried out in 1945 after VE Day they were missing. Where had they gone?

No. They hadn't been destroyed by enemy action. Although the dockyard had been frequently bombed throughout WW2, no bomb had fallen anywhere near those anchors and even if one or more had, the remains would still exist.

No. They hadn't been issued to any ship. There should be paperwork and they were so large that very few ships could carry them.

No. They hadn't been transferred to another dockyard. If they had, there should be paperwork and enquiries at all the other UK dockyards had established that they didn't have three large old anchors lying around.

My superior told me he expected some sort of explanation by the end of the day on Monday. Even though the anchors had been last seen when I was a baby, they were now my responsibility and I had to find out what had happened.

But he had some other news for me. It was the Friday immediately after the end of the month pay day and the junior naval stores officers, i.e. those under 40, which didn't include him, went on a pub crawl. They would be collected from outside the dockyard by hired coach at 5.30 pm and would return at 11 pm after the pubs had shut. I was invited, if I wanted to go. I would have to pay a contribution for the coach hire but that was a few shillings. I accepted and he rang another ANSO to confirm my acceptance.

+++

At the coach I was welcomed effusively by the others. They told me, that as it was my first pub crawl from Devonport, for this time, and this time only, I would not have to pay for my drinks. They would be bought for me, except they bought at least one bottle in every public house for the driver. He had an empty crate behind his driver's seat. By the end of the evening that would be full with pint and quart bottles. Would I pay a ten shilling contribution to that? I handed over a ten shilling note.

By the fourth pint of local bitter and the second public house I was beginning to form an idea about the missing anchors. I suspected that my colleagues were trying to establish my capacity for alcohol. Was I suitable to be a member of Naval Stores? I didn't disappoint them, in fact I astounded them. After eight pints of various local bitters I switched to pint bottles of Newcastle Brown. By the end of the evening when we arrived back outside the dockyard, I had drunk fourteen bottles of Newcastle Brown, making a total of twenty-two pints. I walked off the coach and walked back the mile or so to the Temperance Hotel. The hotel's night staff didn't suspect that I had been drinking or they might have remonstrated with me. However I decided I needed to move to another place before the next pub crawl.

I went to bed and didn't get up until eleven am on the Saturday morning. I then went to a coffee shop and had four black coffees before I felt able to face the world.

+++

I spent an hour in Plymouth's main library, checking my general knowledge of the events of 1944. I couldn't use my school history studies. My UK version had ended in 1870; my Australian one in 1914. Combined with one of the few statements my father had made about the logistics effort in Plymouth in the weeks before and after D-Day I was beginning to see a solution to the missing anchors. I would need to look at my section's records for 1944 but if they confirmed what I thought I would have an explanation.

+++

First thing on Monday morning I asked my two most experienced Clerical Officers to join me at my desk.

"I need your help," I said. "I want you two to go through the records for the issue of old or obsolescent anchors for the period from May to December 1944."

"He's given you that file, then," the ex-Captain RN said. "That's a good sign. He must be pleased with you. He usually waits until a new ANSO has been in post a month, not a week."

"I am beginning to have an idea that might work but what you discover will either support my idea or wreck it. What I need are the types of anchors, when issued and more importantly when that issue was recorded if it wasn't done on the day of issue. OK?"

"Yes, sir, it shouldn't take long. There can't have been more than about thirty at most. What we won't find, because many people have looked for it, is a record of the issue of the three missing anchors."

"Thank you. While you're looking, I'm going to the accommodation office. I need to move out of the Temperance Hotel."

The ex-Captain laughed.

"I'm surprised they haven't evicted you, sir. You drink like a Naval Stores Officer should."

"They haven't noticed. When I return I'm apparently sober."

+++

The accommodation office understood my concern at staying longer in the Temperance Hotel. It was more expensive than a flat or bedsit and not really suitable for an ANSO who drank.

They suggested a bedsit in a quiet street near The Hoe. It would be close to the City Centre, the sea front and bus routes to the dockyard. The elderly landlady had been running it as theatrical diggings but the reduction of the size of touring companies, and the very basic nature of the facilities she offered had made that unpopular. The cost was very low. I would have one room with a gas single ring appliance for cooking and boiling a kettle and the use of a shared bathroom with an over-bath geyser that needed the meter fed with pennies. I arranged to see it that evening. If the landlady and I agreed I could move in within a couple of days. The cost was the most attractive part of the offer.

+++

I returned to my section office after about three-quarters of an hour after I had left it. The two Clerical Officers looked pleased with themselves.

"There were twenty-six issues during the period you had suggested, sir," the ex-Captain said. Here are the record cards and we have listed them.

He gave me a neatly handwritten list.

"As you will see," the ex-Petty Officer said, "most of them were issued in the first couple of weeks of June 1944 but some weren't actually recorded until as late as November..."

"That's great," I said. "What I had hoped for."

"And, where normally the issue would be recorded as going to a particular ship, that didn't happen," he continued. "They are all marked 'Mulberry'."

"Fantastic! Thank you."

"And the rest were marked as issued from 20 June to the end of June - also marked Mulberry."

"That would have been after the storm damage on 19 June. Great."

"After the end of June, except for the three missing ones, Devonport Dockyard had no old anchors at all. The few that were left were for modern ships currently in commission."

"Thank you both very much," I said. "You have found exactly what I had hoped to find. Maybe we can close that file at last."

+++

At 2 o'clock I went to see my superior clutching the fat file, the record cards and the Clerical Officers' list.

"I think I have an acceptable explanation, sir," I said.

He smiled, sat back in his chair and tented his fingers.

"OK. Proceed."

"What started me thinking was something my father had said. He was in Victualling Stores in Plymouth during 1944. He had said very little about D-Day because he still regards that period of his life as covered by the Official Secrets Act. What he did say was that the months before and after D-Day were hectic and what was important for me, was that they didn't get their store records back into order until nearly December."

"OK. And?"

"I thought, who would need old anchors? The obvious use was for the Mulberry Harbours in Normandy. The timing was right. The missing anchors had been seen in 1943 and not in 1945. This morning I asked two of my Clerical officers to check the records."

I gave him the handwritten list.

"As you will see, except for the three missing anchors, all had been issued for use on the Mulberry Harbours. There were a large number of issues at first, presumably for the initial installation, and the rest were taken after 19 June when the Mulberry harbours were badly damaged by a storm."

"I follow you so far. And?"

"The recording of issues was often not done immediately as it would be now. That happened in the Victualling Stores department at the time. Even some of those issued early in June weren't recorded until September or October. The last record is late November 1944, nearly six months after the anchor had been issued on 3rd June to 'Mulberry'. So I think that what happened is that the three missing anchors had in fact been issued for use at the Mulberry harbours, either for the first installation or for repairs after the storm of 19 June but that someone forgot to enter the date of issue to Mulberry."

"OK. That sounds plausible. What do we do now?"

"The only way to prove it, and that might be impossible 19 years later, is to send a diver to check around the remains of the Mulberry Harbours at Arromanches and Utah beaches. What I suggest if that we just enter on the record card a date of issue to Mulberry of say 20 June 1944 and that the record has been made today.

"OK. It's your suggestion. You should do it."

He passed me the fat file with the stock record card. I entered 20 June 1944, to Mulberry, and today's date before signing it.

"Put a summary of what you have said to me into the file and close it. Thank you," he said. "That file has been a burden around my neck for the past five years, and with my predecessors since 1945. Now you can put it back in a filing cabinet for ever."

Back in my office I thanked the two Clerical Officers before writing a memo of my deductions and handing it over for filing.

"It's over, dead?" One of them queried.

"Yes, thanks to you two. Those anchors are now officially off our books."

+++

That evening I went to see the theatrical landlady. If I hadn't been told she was theatrical, a few moments would have shown me. She was in her eighties and walking with two sticks. Her white hair had been dyed bright red, a very unusual effect in the early 1960s. She was wearing the sort of clothes that might have been fashionable before 1914.

Her living room walls were covered with framed playbills and signed studio portraits, all dedicated to her. As far as I could work out, the most modern playbill that had her name prominently was dated 1931. As for the signed pictures? Even I knew some of the names - Charlie Chaplin; Mary Pickford; Douglas Fairbanks and in pride of place above the fireplace - Rudolf Valentino.

She told me she had been a bit-part actress and went to Hollywood in the 1920s but hadn't done much. She returned to the UK and joined several touring companies as an older actress who would play any part. Her last professional engagements had been with ENSA entertaining the troops during WW2. I worked out that she must have been in her 60s then.

Her husband had been killed in an air raid on Devonport Dockyard in 1940 and she had inherited this house from him and his father. Her father-in-law died in 1944 and since 1945 she had been running this house as a theatrical boarding house providing bed, breakfast and evening meals until about three years ago when cooking for others became too much. Since then she had had it divided into basic bedsits and one was vacant. I followed her upstairs. There was a medium size room with a folding settee, a gas fire, a sink, and a gas ring. The shared bathroom was half a flight of stairs further up.

I found her a fascinating woman to talk to. I agreed to take the room from next Saturday at the very low rate she was charging. Over the next few months I spent some evenings with her in her living room, listening to her anecdotes of Hollywood in the silent era, touring with end-of-the-pier shows, and of course, ENSA. After about a year she had to move into a home for retired thespians in London and I had to find another larger room nearby.

+++

I had already met one of her other tenants at the YMCA gym. He was small wiry man, stronger than he looked but he had been impressed by the scale of the weights I was using. On my first evening in that house we went out together to a public house and got to know each other better.

Once Bitten Ch. 05

I felt my foot hanging off the end of the bed. I growled and reached up and dug my talons into the mattress and pulled myself up. I grunted as one of my horns hit the headboard. My foot still hung off the end of the bed.

I pulled my arms back and flattened my hands near my chest and pressed. I added a full press of my wings and the leathery folds filled with air and my chest rose from the bed. I pulled up my knees causing my tail to swish through the air as I rested on hands and knees.

My head was still cloudy from the gases that filled the room when Sammi disappeared. I shook my jaw back and forth, then lowered my foot to the ground and slid off the bed. I rose to stand up, and felt my horns smack against the ceiling.

"Wait?" I said to myself, my thoughts still a mess, "Horns, wings, what the actual fuck?"

I crouched and craned my neck slightly to the side to look in the mirror.

"That's better" I thought to myself admiring my dark burgundy flesh, my scales glinting in the morning light.

I smiled and my fangs glinted in the mirror. My horns weren't that long, just black points slightly curved arising from my bald burgundy skull. My red irises grew wide as I took in my glorious image.

"What the fuck am I?" I asked myself.

My large hand dropped to my groin, wrapping my taloned fingers around my tumescent cock. I looked for the door to the bathroom. I needed to piss badly. I managed to squeeze one leg into the small room, and using my hand managed to aim my massive cock towards the bowl. The head seemed to sense where the stream would need to go, and I released a torrent of piss that dead centered the bowl. I drained my bladder, shaking my head and pulling the foreskin back over the head before pulling out.

"Don't forget to close the lid," said Sammi brightly, appearing right behind me.

Her fingers gripped my tail so it wouldn't smack her in the face. I twisted and the air flowing from my collapsing wings blew her hair back. I looked at her and she looked at me, then down at my monstrous cock. Her eyes widened in appreciation.

"I knew you'd be glorious," She smiled, "You must have been a prince in your previous instance,"

"I can't fit through a door, Sammi," I groused in a deep voice, then growled as I tried to turn enough to hide my phallus from her gaze.

She inhaled and her blush deepened, "Just think about the tailor, and the clothes we bought for you, then push that thought of that body to the front," she said simply and settled into a chair crossing her legs, and letting one of her heels dangle from her toe.

I was still coming to terms at how easily I was accepting my incredible form as mundane and normal to me. I recalled the way my shape felt at the clothing store, then with a mental push I felt myself shrink. Then I was standing in front of Sammi naked, my cock slowly deflating after my morning ablutions.

"That's still very impressive," Sammi gushed as she pulled her gaze away from my phallus and looked me in the eye.

"Ummm," I started, "Thank you. At least now I can fit through a door and get out of this room."

I reached for the door handle, and Sammi's hand reached to stop me.

"Clothes Tom," she reminded me, "If we are going out in the world, you're still expected to wear clothes."

"Right," I said and picked up my clothes I dumped on the floor before I passed out.

"Well, you are magnificently an incubus," Sammi smiled, making small talk, "How did you like being in your normal form?"

"Aside from being stuck in this cramped space," I started, tucking my cock into my boxers, "I felt great. I'm not sure what the native female population will think of me though. Don't I look like something from a nightmare."

"Well now you know what an incubus really looks like," she simpered, her eyes still enjoying their circuits over my body, "Can you understand why they thought incubi were sex demons?

I slipped my feet into my new loafers as I stood and smoothed my shirt and trousers. I smiled at my reflection, and opened the door. I held it open for Sammi as she rose to her feet. She patted my ass as she slipped by into the corridor. I followed and she looked back at me.

"Let's go to your new place," she said, "However, I have a surprise for you first."

"Really," I drawled, "a surprise?" trying not to drip with irony.

She pulled open a door, sunlight filtered in, and she waved me through to the slightly overcast day. Then she closed the door and waved her hand and the door slid into place and melded into the wall. She smiled as she passed by me as I waited then turned back to look over her shoulder,

"Call it a present then," she said cheerily.

She led me down the walking path in a swift pace, her high heels clicking on the pavement. The weather was warm, with a slight overcast. I knew from experience that the clouds would soon melt away and the sun would appear. The afternoon would be clear blue skies until the sun dipped lower on the horizon setting up for a glorious sunset. Same as everyday.

She pointed ahead to the parking lot, "There it is, see it?"

My eyes landed on a brand new maroon convertible with the top down, highlighted by a ray of sun peaking through the clouds causing it to gleam. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, thinking of pinching myself, as I never really felt I had ever awoke from a strange dream.

"That's too much," I said, still shaking my head.

She opened up the driver's side door and dangled the keys. I took them and then slid them in my pocket, and dropped into the driver's seat. Sammie smiled up at me, then ran around to the passenger side and slipped into her seat.

"A little makeup gift for torching your apartment," she said, then handed me a new phone, the latest model, "and another necessity for your new life. I've already installed the digital lock app on it," the she told me the code number.

I started the car with a push button, connecting to the fob in my pocket, the electronics verified the owner was in the car, then the engine roared to life. I smiled, and looked at the console filled with all of the latest screens and electronics.

"I am amazed," I said, "but I still don't have any money, and where should I go?"

"Oh right," she said and opened her handbag, then handed me a leather wallet, "A thousand dollars in cash - small bills, should hold you over until we complete your new identity. The driver's license there is charmed so you won't be without a license."

I tilted my head and took the wallet, flipping through the bills, and pulling out the driver's license. My face looked like my face, and everything seemed normal. Except the name on the license now read, "Rick" with a completely different last name as well.

"Rick?" I asked, "Is that the best you could come up with?"

"We can figure out something else, if you'd like, T.. Rick," she smiled, "Remember we had to adlib after you bit poor Trish, so we can consider this temporary."

"How is Trish," I asked as I folded up the slim wallet and slid it into my back pocket before putting on my seatbelt.

"She is perfectly fine, still resting," she answered, "Now, head down towards the harbor," she smiled, "We have a building down near the Marina district."

I followed her directions, driving west out of the park, then turning south to drive back towards the harbor. It was in the general direction of the new building. I recognized that I should give it a name, but my mind was too filled with other thoughts to focus on the new venue. Sammi directed me into a small residential district just off the Marina district. She pointed me into a parking garage for an apartment building, and I turned into the parking spot she indicated.

"This is your spot, Rick," she said, "This new apartment is in your new name. This building is owned by fae interests, so please don't make me torch the place. Remember to keep windows open and the fans on."

She leaned into me and inhaled, "Still very nice, but not as strong today."

She closed her eyes and a flush rose up her chest, then she stopped and slid up to kiss my cheek.

"C'mon, let's go upstairs." She continued slipping out of my convertible.

I followed her, clicking the button to lock the car, even though I kept the top down. The elevator doors were already open, and we stepped inside. She looked at me and tapped her bottom lip.

"Rick, I think you'll find today a bit more fun," she said with a grin. "We have arranged for you to meet some new friends. Entirely human, and not another setup."

"Do you think that's a good idea," I asked, "I feel a lot more like myself, uhh, I mean my real self, not like Tom. But I'm still getting adjusted."

"We will be near," she smiled, "the building is monitored by Fae, and the rooms are monitored as well. The safety of humans in close proximity is paramount. We do think you're ready, you do need to keep your energy up."

"I trust you, Sammi," I said, "though I wish you'd trust me with a little more information."

We got off the elevator and she turned to face the first apartment. She looked at the number then over at me.

"Take out your phone, Rick," she said, "and find the digital lock app, these are the Fairview Apartments," then she told me my code.

I tapped out the numbers and the door lock clicked open. I turned the handle and walked inside. The apartment was a bi-level with high ceilings. The main living space was open to the top of the apartment, and a half-wall extended along the second story.

"Your bedroom loft is upstairs, everything else you need is down here." she said giving me a tour. "Kitchen, Television, Large leather sofa. We made sure to get the largest bed we could for you. The upstairs ceilings are still vaulted, so you should be able to relax in your normal form."

I grinned then pushed out my normal form, her small build shrinking as I grew. I looked up and then down at her, and pressed with a thrust of my wings. I rose into the air, my taloned hands gripping the edge of the railing along the half-wall. A pull with my arms and a twist of my hips I dropped into the loft. I stood easily then spread my wings, meeting no resistance.

The room flashed, then Sammi was standing in-front of me. I mischievous look in her eye. Scanning my scaled maroon flesh, broad wings, then down to take in my swelling phallus. Her eyes widened as she inhaled my scent, causing her nipples to harden and press into her blouse.

"You will want to get some appropriate shorts or at least a collection of loin-cloths," she stated as her voice began to fade and her eyes lost focus, my scent overwhelming her.

I looked down and nodded, "Perhaps you're right," and shifted back to my normal form, still wearing the clothes I was when we arrived.

"That is probably best," Sammie sighed with a tinge of sadness, as her eyes regained focus.

In my normal human form, I realized my pheromones were returning to normal, and I could feel the sexual energy drop and stabilize. Sammi leaned on the railing next to me, and took some deep breaths, then smiled at me.

"I think you should just concentrate on going slow, Rick" she said, "See how it feels to feed in this mundane form, how sustainable it will be. No need to call in the big guns right away."

I smiled and then relaxed, I was already feeling more in control of myself. I could control how strongly I emitted pheromones, and I dialed it back to where they were at a minimum. The effect was just under the radar, something that wouldn't lead to females uncontrollably reaching for my cock. I had an innate sense that I could dial that up to higher levels without having to shift into my demonic form. A step in the right direction.

Sammi started to walk down the spiral staircase back to the first floor, and I followed her. I'd never be able to maneuver the tight ring in my demonic form, but it was an easy task for my human form. I paused to consider which of the two I should consider as "normal".

She directed me over to the kitchen counter, and turned a neatly bulleted list towards me.

"This building is fae friendly," she started, "not all residents are fae, but they all have ... how to put it ... an acceptance of the supernatural that makes them our allies."

She smiled, and ran her finger down the list.

"I've made some recommendations here," she continued, "along with their apartment numbers. I'd like you to run down the list and introduce yourself as a new tenant, and make some friends. You'll need a few close ones."

She smiled and patted my hand as I scanned the list.

"Remember that you need to spread your love around, and also take care of those you engage with."

"Do they know I'm coming by?" I asked, starting to feel like some kind of supernatural gigolo.

"They don't even know you exist," she smiled, "at least not yet. I think your reputation will soon spread as you meet and connect with everyone here."

"So, I'm expected to fuck everyone on this list," I asked, looking for more clarity.

"Well," she started and then paused in thought, "I think, perhaps you are misunderstanding what I'm trying to help you with. I'm not telling you to do anything. This is not a to-do list. I don't expect you to do anything but introduce yourself."

I looked at her skeptically, but nodded.

"To.. I mean, Rick," she continued, "This is your home, this is your city. For all intents and purposes, your past connections no longer exist. In fact if they saw you now, they would not recognize you at all. How you perceive your appearance is very different from how humans perceive your appearance."

"Okay," I said and hesitated for a moment, "Run through that again."

"Rick, the way you woke up this morning. That is the real you. That is your normal appearance.," she explained carefully, then patted my chest, "This avatar you have chosen is a mirage, like a mask. To all the mundane what mask you wear, or no mask at all, will be how they view you."

"So I really am a monster," I added with a nod of understanding.

"You are a glorious, and powerful being." she corrected, "Mundanes will see your magnificent form and shudder in fear from their lack of understanding. That doesn't make you a monster. It just means they have no experience to properly understand what you are."

I nodded as she continued to re-explain this to me.

"You can't walk down the street in this world in your normal form," she said, "Remember pitchforks. Mundanes respond very inappropriately to things they do not understand."

"I want to avoid the pitchforks," I agreed.

"It's more than that, though, Rick," Sammi said, "Remember we are symbiotic. They may reject our appearance, but they still need our presence in their world. We need to carefully interact in their reality, so as not to have them reject our influence. A total rejection of the Fae would be very destructive for human civilization."

"This is getting a bit too abstract," I said, "But I get what you're saying. Look like a human and interact like a human. If I do that, I can feed from the sexual activity I engage in, and the humans can enjoy the benefits of the magick I generate."

"By George, I think he's got it!" Sammie smiled.

"My Fair Lady, 1965," I grinned.

"Actually it was from Pygmalion in 1912, first." she winked, "But yes, you get me."

"I'll try to remember that," I drawled, "you must have a lot of time to watch movies."

"Oodles of time, unfortunately," she grinned, 'I'm just a simple naiad, I don't have a lot of complex needs. Watching movies helps me relate to our hosts, at least I hope it does."

She straightened and tapped the list.

"Anyway, think of this as a welcome list," she said, "Some friendly, safe people that you might enjoy meeting. That's all. No obligations."

I nodded, and she pulled out another sheet, and slid it over the first list. It was a diagram of the apartment building, apparently. I noticed the same name - Fairview Apartments - and a logo that was posted on the entrance to the garage. Sammi tapped her finger on a little butterfly icon near the edge of the letterhead.

"This icon," she said, "We've added this to businesses and locations that are known to be Fae friendly. There is nothing stopping you from frequenting other establishments, but these we know are safe. The rest of this is a map to this building. You may want to check out the gym facilities, and the rooftop pool area."

I nodded, and picked up the map to look at it, and she straightened up and smoothed her skirt.

"Okay," she smiled, and touched my arm, "I'll leave you to it, I still need to finish shopping and provisioning your new digs. I'll get your tailored clothes, and also get you some casual wear. Jeans, tee-shirt, shoes, gym wear, towels, loin cloths..."

Her voice drifted off and her eyes lost their focus, then she snapped back to attention.

"Anyways, lots to do," she said as she strode out of the room, "Please enjoy your day."

I walked down the hallway to look in the mirror. I was wearing comfortable khaki trousers, a golf shirt, tucked into my trousers, and a slim belt around my trim waist. I wore a pair of slip on loafers. The same outfit I walked out of the tailor shop yesterday. I sniffed the shirt, recalling that it was also the outfit I was wearing just before my last encounter with Trish.

"Probably still has pheromones," I grumbled.

I walked up the stairs, figuring I should get used to moving like a mundane. I opened the closet and sighed a sigh of frustration. The closet was empty. As I stood there and tried to come up with a plan B to walk around safely, the closet lit up in a glow. A pair of swim trunks, a stack of tee-shirts and a couple pairs of sneakers and some flip flop sandals appeared on the shelf. I picked up the note on top, and read the note in Sammi's neat handwriting.

Rick, thought you might need these. Xoxo S.

Another flash, and a plastic hamper appeared beside the shelves, with another sticky note.

Smelly clothes go here. xoxo Sammi

She drew a little heart. I started undressing and wondered how many more new things would appear with little sticky notes attached. I pulled on the swim trunks, a printed tee-shirt and slipped on the flip-flops.

Walking down the spiral staircase, I used my phone to snap a photo of the list of names, and the map. I slipped the phone in my pocket, and exited the apartment. The first number on the list was just a couple of doors down. I felt good, but also a touch of weariness as I knocked on the door.

After a moment the door opened up, and I smiled as I met eyes with the occupant. She was shorter than me, by about a foot, so I adjusted my eyes and looked down on her. Her dark black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, exposing a mocha-colored forehead. I lowered and saw her light brown eyes smile back into mine.

"Hello?" she asked.

Her head cocking slightly to the side as her own eyes made a journey from my eyes down to my chest and further. I forced my own eyes to bounce up from her chest, which was slight but offered promising curves.

"I'm Tuh..Rick," I stammered, still getting used to the new name, "I just moved in down the hall."

"Hello Trick," she smiled and offered her slight hand with slim nimble fingers, her bangles jingled a musical tone, "I'm Aisha, I'm a graduate assistant at State, but I don't have any classes today. Would you like to have some tea? I'm about to enjoy my mid-morning tea."