NOVEL SIMPLE v2 CHAPTER SEVENTY: In which a college dorm room provides material, psychological and digital clues.
As Susan and Una walked across campus, Susan mentally reviewed the evidence they’d gathered so far. That morning, the partners had arrived at the edge of the campus of the Sylvia Larkspur College of Arts and Sciences. They’d taken an early train out of Manhattan to Westchester, arriving just as the administrative offices of the school opened.
Even in the morning, the former women’s college—now open to students of any gender—teemed with activity. Students and teachers hurried to class or sipped from steaming paper cups of coffee, and they saw a few groups playing Ultimate Frisbee on the broad lawns of the campus.
Inside the main administrative building, Una and Susan had met with a harried assistant dean, who’d explained the situation in frustratingly vague terms. Two students had been transformed—possibly three, based on rumor. Campus security felt the whole matter was far out of their league.
“The first student affected has already withdrawn from school for the semester,” the assistant dean told them. “His—or her, I’m not sure of the right pronouns here?—the student’s parents insisted, for religious reasons. The second student is still on campus, excused from classes and staying at Werner Hall.”
Susan took notes diligently. “Can you tell me anything about the first student? An unwilling transformation, you said—he comes from a religious background?”
The dean frowned. “I don’t think I can go into much detail without a court order. I can give you the security officer’s report, but it’s pretty cursory. They didn’t know how to enter ‘male student turns into a female student,’ after all. As for the other student, Bakshi… well, I’d suggest going over to Werner and seeing for yourselves. Students are free to tell you whatever they’re comfortable sharing.”
Una scowled; the stench of bureaucracy irritated her, possibly because of her years spent working for the church, with their tendency towards secrecy and obfuscation. “We’re here because you requested the OSA’s help,” she pointed out. “You should be happy we didn’t get a warrant.”
Susan nudged her subtly. “Thank you for your help,” she said to the professor. “Can you point us towards that dorm, Werner Hall?”
Outside, the fall air of the suburbs smelled crisp and clean. “Remember,” Susan began as they strolled onto the campus proper, “we’re not law enforcement officers. The OSA has quite a lot of pull, and we can call in the big guns if we need to. But we’re just the tip of the spear, out here to investigate—”
Una was staring at her phone, as if trying to decide whether to send a text. She looked up at Susan with an apologetic frown. “Sorry. I keep expecting to hear from John, and I don’t want to bug him, but…”
Susan’s face softened. “He’s probably busy. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”
“I feel like he’s avoiding me for some reason. It might just be my nerves—I’m still all jangly from the last few weeks of up and downs.”
The scholar clapped her demonic mistress on the shoulder. “When are we not in the middle of an upheaval, dear?” She paused, then added: “Maybe it’ll help to focus on the matter at hand? At least a couple of students need our help. Did you hear what I said, though?”
Una smirked back at her. “Yes, ma’am. We’re not cops. Just two supernatural assets thrown into danger because of our ability to transform and regenerate horrible injuries.”
Susan clucked her tongue in response. “Except we’re here today because of our expertise with gender transformations. Hmm… I think this ivy-covered building is Werner Hall. Wow, this is nothing like the dorms where I went to school…”
Inside the building, a sleepy-looking young man in a knit cap answered the door of an unkempt suite shared by a half-dozen students. He looked confused, then surprised to see two women in suits at his door. “Um, hi? Can I help you?”
“Hi! We’re here to talk with… Mr. Bakshi, I think it is?” Susan put on her best friendly smile, and the boy’s shoulders dropped.
“Oh, yeah… Sandy.” The young man turned around and walked into the common area of the suite, leaving the door open behind him for them to enter. “She won’t come out of her room. We’ve been leaving food for her, but it’s getting kind of annoying ‘cause nobody wants to do the dishes.”
The main living area of the suite smelled like corn chips and sweat. Two students lounged around a television, playing a video game featuring a leather-clad heroine in glasses and platform heels. Another guy wearing bulky headphones sat at a table, typing in a rapid staccato on a laptop.
“Sandy says she doesn’t want to talk to anyone,” called one gamer, steadfastly refusing to look away from the screen.
Headphones lifted one cup away from his ear. “I told you idiots to stop calling him that. It’s not like he changed his name or something.” He rolled his eyes and went back to work.
“That’s all right—we’ll just knock and see if he’ll speak with us,” said Susan. “Do… any of you know anything about what happened to your friend?”
The student in the knit cap let out a long sigh; his exhalation smelled remarkably like pot. “It’s not like she’s our friend, you know? We all got assigned this place by random lottery.”
“Yeah,” said the second gamer, handing a controller to his friend. “And then we went to bed with six guys in this suite, but woke up in the morning with five guys and one chick in a nightie, screaming her lungs out.”
Una rubbed a finger at the base of her left horn, clearly irritated. “So it happened some time overnight; he was upset… and wearing a nightie? I’m going to guess that wasn’t Mr. Bakshi’s usual choice of sleeping attire.”
They all looked at her blankly, so she rephrased slowly. “Did your suitemate… usually wear… a nightgown?”
“No, I only ever saw him in a T-shirt and boxers.” Knit Cap yawned and stretched. “But she had on a little filmy nightshirt thing? At first, we thought Sandy had gotten laid. But then she was freaking out and yelling that she was Sandeep Bakshi, and we were like… whaaaat, no way?!”
The student wearing headphones took them off, unplugged his laptop, and picked it up, an exasperated scowl on his face. “I’d like to apologize for my roommates, officers. Look, my name is Sam Perkins. I’m a computer science major. The person in the south bedroom is a CS/Econ double major, Sandeep. He’s an Indian guy… or he was until sometime yesterday.”
The first gamer swore in frustration and tossed the controller at a couch cushion, then looked up to join the conversation. “What I don’t get is if she’s the same person, why’d she try to make out with Jesse?” Una raised an eyebrow.
Sam glared in response. “Matt, didn’t you promise not to spread that shit around? He asked you not to, and we agreed that it never happened.”
“It totally did!” protested Matt. “I was there, and so were you!”
Susan cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Mr. Perkins—I appreciate your concern for your suitemate’s privacy, but this could be important. Am I understanding correctly that Sandeep tried to, ah… initiate sexual contact with someone? After the change?”
Sam nodded reluctantly, his expression grim. “I understand. Yes, Sandeep made advances towards Jesse; he’s not here right now. It was like… how do I put this?” He rested one hand on his stubble-covered chin. “He wasn’t himself for a moment, as if he was drunk. And then got very upset again when Jesse pushed him away.”
Knit Cap, still lounging on the couch, spoke up: “Yeah, it was fucked up… Hey, is this catching? I heard Jason Christiansen turned into a girl, too.” The gamers both looked up with alarmed expressions as their suitemate kept talking. “I have plans this weekend and it, like, wouldn’t be a great time to turn into a woman.”
Susan took a deep breath. “Okay. While that’s part of what we’re here to determine, I suspect we would have seen more cases if this was an outbreak. If there’s anything to worry about, we’ll let you know immediately.”
“Pardon me, agents, but I’ll make plans to study somewhere else. Just to be on the safe side.” Sam gave a polite nod and began to stuff papers in his bag. Both of the gamers, looking even more alarmed, walked towards the hallway without bothering to shut down their game console.
Minutes later, after more hasty excuses, Una and Susan stood with Knit Cap in the abandoned common room. The only sounds came from the game on the screen, where the main character stood triumphantly on the corpse of a beast, an oversized pistol in each hand. “Could you point us to the right room, please?”
It took a moment for him to understand the request, but the student eventually pointed down the hallway, then shambled into another room, shutting the door behind him. Susan rapped lightly on the door.
“Mr. Bakshi? We’re here from the state government, and we’re hoping we can help.”
There was no reply. Una stepped closer, listening.
“Mr. Bakshi?” Susan repeated.
After a moment, a small, hesitant voice responded. “It’s… the door is open.”
They stepped into a small, dark single bedroom. Clothes and books were scattered haphazardly across the furniture, as if they’d been thrown there in a rage. The curtains were drawn and the overhead light was off; the sole illumination came from the flickering blue glow of an open laptop on the desk. A figure huddled under a blanket on a large, mesh-backed chair, facing them in profile.
Susan squinted in the darkness as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. The person sitting in the chair was small, with pale skin and long, straight black hair, but she couldn’t make out more details under the puffy, quilted blanket. She stepped carefully across the messy floor as Una closed the door behind them.
“Sandeep?” Susan said gently. “We’re investigators from the Office of Supernatural Affairs, here to find out what happened to you. My name’s Susan Miller. Can you tell us about it?”
Sandeep Bakshi stared at the wall. “Thank you,” he finally said. “Thank you for calling me Sandeep.” His voice was high and feminine, and quavered as if on the verge of tears; his cadence and pronunciation had the strong accent of a native Hindi speaker.
Una leaned back against the door, crossing arms and ankles. “Of course,” she said. “I’m sorry your suitemates have been so… inconsiderate. I’m Agent—” She hesitated for a moment. “Micki Belmont. Do you have any idea of what might have caused the change?” Susan raised an eyebrow.
Sandeep’s shoulders shook, and Susan realized the student was crying. “I’m… so sorry.” His voice broke, cracking into sobs. “I don’t know how this happened. My parents warned me. They always warn me about magic…”
“Sandeep,” Susan said quietly. “We’re going to try to help you. If you didn’t mean to end up this way, you mustn’t blame yourself. First, we need to identify the cause, and for that, we need to ask you some questions.”
“Mean to end up this way?” Sandeep furrowed two elegantly plucked eyebrows over large brown eyes framed by long, thick lashes. His nose was small, and the overall cast of his features was clearly East Asian. “Why would I want to look like this?” he wailed, throwing off the blanket. Beneath, the student wore only an oversized T-shirt—it might have fit him once, but Sandeep’s body was now diminutive but curvaceous. Full breasts strained at the thin cotton material, which draped over the swell of his hip. “I’m a freak!”
Una put a hand on her chin. “Sandeep, do you have any recent photos of yourself from… before all this? Can you show us what you should look like?”
After a moment, Sandeep tapped on the laptop and pulled up an image. The photo showed a smiling young man in a “Bangalore Robotics Challenge” t-shirt, slightly heavy-set and with a mop of wavy hair. His skin was a deep brown, and his features were entirely different. The two investigators exchanged glances: this transformation extended beyond gender to physical appearance and ethnicity.
“Sandeep,” said Susan, her voice firm. “I know this must be painful and confusing to relive, but let’s just start with a simple question: what were you doing just before you changed?”
The student’s eyes widened. “What was I doing? I was sleeping. I woke up like this!”
Una nodded. “All right, how about the night before? We should go over what your day was like.”
Susan pulled a bottle of water from the sizable bag on her shoulder and offered it to the agitated student, which seemed to help somewhat. How long has he holed himself up in here, hiding—ever since the transformation, over a day earlier?
Sandeep recounted a rather ordinary-sounding day in the life of a college student: he’d woken up and eaten in the dining hall, then attended a lecture on game theory. After lunch—also at the dining hall—he’d stopped by the gym and worked out before his next economics class.
“I was trying to lose some weight,” he sniffed. “But not this much. I feel so tiny and helpless.”
“Did anything happen that evening?” Susan took down everything in a spiral notebook, as usual. “Did you meet up with friends, go on a date…? Eat anything unusual?”
Sandeep shook his head. “A… a date? No, I’ve never dated. Not here in America, anyway… back home in India. My parents arranged some meetings, but… no. I studied in the library until 10 P.M. Few students were there. On my way out, there was some free pizza left over from an event. But many, many other students ate that pizza… Then I came back and went to sleep.”
“This might be an uncomfortable question, Sandeep,” said Una. “Did you masturbate before falling asleep?”
The student blinked in surprise. “I… no, not that night. I was tired, and… well, pretty stressed out.” He let out an oddly incongruous giggle. “It seems very minor now, but the arguments in my economics class were exhausting, and I wanted to get up early the next day to study for a makeup exam… I guess I’ve missed that exam.”
“Keep talking,” said Susan. “I’m going to take some readings.” She pulled a case from her bag and started assembling an aetheric meter.
Una sat on the bed to get closer to Sandeep’s level, and turned to face him more fully. “Sandeep, your suitemates said you were wearing something different that morning. Is that right?”
The bewildered young man nodded. “Yes. That’s how I knew it must be magic. I went to sleep wearing a T-shirt and I woke up wearing…” He looked down at the floor. “It’s under the bed, see for yourself.”
Susan snapped the last component of the aetheric meter into place, then got down on her hands and knees to fish around under the bed. She pulled out a filmy black negligee, wrapped around a similar pair of panties.
Una raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t look like an illusion or anything temporary…”
“Nope,” Susan said, running the meter over the fabric. “It’s definitely conjured matter, but it takes some power to do that permanently.” They exchanged serious looks.
“If it’s all right with you, we’ll take this with us?” Una turned back to Sandeep, who nodded, his expression still frozen in fear. “I’m curious about the appearance of these clothes, and the way you look now, Sandeep. It sounds like there wasn’t anything unusual about your routine the day before. But can you think of anything that would have influenced what you look like?”
Susan’s eyebrows shot up. An interesting line of questioning, she thought.
Sandeep’s eyes darted towards the laptop screen, and he blushed. “Well…”
The succubus nodded and stepped forward. “Something you were looking at on your computer? It’s all right; no one will judge you in a situation like this.”
The student opened an application. Susan rose to her feet again, frowning; it was some sort of video game.
“I play this all the time, so I didn’t think it could be the cause… except… except…” He trailed off helplessly.
The laptop played cheery music, and images of cards fluttered across the screen, followed by two figures that appeared out of glowing lights: both were petite, wide-eyed anime girls, wearing next to nothing and posing coyly. One had the same haircut as Sandeep: blunt bangs and long, straight black locks. Susan coughed into her fist, then looked away to connect the aetheric meter to her phone.
“I think I understand,” said Una. “One more question. I’m sorry to ask this as well, but your suitemates said that you were, ah… very flirtatious towards one of them.”
A bright flush spread across Sandeep’s pale cheeks as he stared intently at the carpet. “I don’t know what came over me… I was so confused… It was like I couldn’t think about anything else at all.”
Susan’s meter beeped, and she moved it around the room. Sandeep’s gaze remained fixed on the floor.
“Think about anything but…?” Una asked. Well, do we have to ask the poor kid? I think I know the answer, Susan thought.
“I couldn’t focus on anything but sex.” The word came out as a squeak. Sandeep’s hands trembled on his lap, and tears formed in his eyes as they flicked back to Una’s face. He took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing: “It was as if my body was on fire. I’m not gay, I’ve never been attracted to men, but all I wanted in the world was to… to…” The words choked in the back of his throat.
“It’s all right.” Una reached out a comforting hand. “We get it, you don’t have to finish—”
“I wanted to get fucked!” Sandeep shouted at the ground as he buried his face in his hands. “I just wanted Jesse’s dick inside me, in my mouth or my… my…. and I wanted it so badly I could barely breathe.”
Una let out a hissing sigh between her teeth. “We’re on the case now. And we’ll solve it for you.”