The Zapper's Club

End

The arrow cracked out of the bow. This time, he couldn't dodge. The tip pierced his neck squarely in the Adam's Apple, which soon deflated. His voice gave off soft gurgles. The puncture poured material all over his body. It erased the blackness of his clothes with sheets of red which cascaded like slow waterfalls. The material fell to his legs, where it stopped and flowed around to meet the back.

Before long, a bright red evening gown encircled him from his feet, covering his legs, tracing his hips, bulging at his waist, over his flat chest, and around in a loop to where it clung to his neck. The back dove low. A portion of the flowing material broke off to form a matching glove on his other arm.

The man was still reduced to wet, wordless sounds and helpless stares at Cynthia as she lowered her bow and watched what came next.

It began from the point of the strike. His neck relaxed. The taut rippling pinkness dimmed to peach, fair flesh. It sloped up with trim angles, not bulky like before but still muscular.

His clavicles, before buried, showed their ridges. While his shoulder and arms lost much of their bulk, they weren't skinny or weak-looking. Above the arrow, an invisible hand struck out the forest of his facial hair, leaving behind a narrow ripple of a chin at the end of an oval, hairless face. His eyes spread with Cynthia's silver look, topped by slight, reddish-brown eyebrows.

While the red material didn't touch him above the neck, the redness seemed to spread through his hair, tinting it while it grew out. A long, braided ponytail stretched over his shoulder and to his waist. Attached, paper roses blossomed here and there with the largest right at the fan-like end of the ponytail. On the top of his head, his hair was neat and shiny, combed into an upsloping antithesis of Gloria's crest and anointed with a few extra red roses for good measure.

The arrow bent down like the other one, turning papery. It formed a crimson, lace choker around his neck. Finally, the gurgling went away, but he didn't seem able to speak or was shocked into silence. He looked at all the changes, his eyes darting up occasionally to see if Cynthia was moving to strike him again. He nearly missed the biggest changes of all.

They began slowly at his waist. What once was bulging receded, narrow but still clinging to the fabric. He swiftly noticed his hips and tried to press against their shape, which did nothing to keep them from swelling. At the same time, he felt a tingling like tiny pokes on his chest. Groaning and shaking his head, he stared at the new ridges through the fabric. He could feel them, but his mind refused to acknowledge what lay beneath the dress. The ridges were less than Cynthia's shape in her robe but still more than what Katsumi had.

The final strike came quickly, ruthlessly, like a pulled groin muscle which yanked away an entire form and left rawness deep inside, soothed by a dull warmth, like a trickle of blood.

Cynthia put aside her bow and arrow, looked the new woman up and down, and pronounced, "Your name is now Gabriella. No matter what your name once was, this is what it is now and shall ever be. So I declare and have made with my bow and arrow. Grovel, if you wish, but it will do nothing."

'Gabriella' looked on with wide, grayish eyes. She turned her gloved hands a few times. Softly, she said, "I don't know what the….ffff….the…fff…huh?"

"Your tongue will never again be sullied with low words," explained Cynthia.

Pressing her lips together, Gabriella took a breath then said, "I don't know what to do…everything is gone. Like the worst hangover ever…"

Bowing her head a little, Cynthia approached. "Then come with me when this is all done. Your tainted spirit has been bled out. You are the same as any of my daughters and I will welcome you as such."

As Cynthia touched her on the head, she drew closer to her. She placed herself against Cynthia's side and shut her eyes. As the others watched, it was like every doubt of Cynthia's words passed from her, overwhelmed by her solemn presence. All attempts at harshness evaporated and the new girl was complete.

Cassandra gave a sudden, steady clap, joined in by Lynx. Gloria clapped hesitantly a moment after. Only Katsumi rested her hands and looked on. She nearly let slip a yawn.

Her hand tracing over the new girl as she leaned away, Cynthia looked into her eyes and nearly smiled. The girl looked to the stage and back at Cynthia, then asked, "Will that be sufficient, ma'am?"

Cynthia blinked. "What do you mean?"

Gabriella smiled gently. "I mean…Do you need anything more of me? I hope you enjoyed all that. I know I did, and I feel so deeply honored. It didn't even hurt that much. I feel so much better now."

Cynthia's mouth dipped. "Oh. Of course. It was all an act. Naturally. So you umm…will be fine?"

Giggling softly, Gabriella chirped, "Better than that! I'm over the moon. I've been wishing to be transformed for so long. I thought I'd never be the one picked. I can't wait to go home. I've been blessed…truly by a goddess…and I can't imagine how I can ever repay you…"

Nodding slowly, Cynthia noted, "In that case, you should go. But know you are always welcome in my lands."

Gabriella's eyes widened, and she giggled. "That would be wonderful. I'm not allowed right now though. But someday…I promise. And each day till then…I will always honor your gift to me!" She gave Cynthia a big, emphatic hug. She bent and stroked Gabriella's cheek one last time before she hurried over to the stage and back through the curtain.

Cythnia's gaze lingered on them for a few moments before she tapped her bow on the carpet and turned back to face the others. In Cynthia's silence, Cassandra spoke first, "My dear…that was exciting and lovely in how it turned out. I know yours always have a clear element of your hunter nature, but I also enjoy how you deal with them afterwards. I, as I have mentioned, feel the same way."

zAA9nKg.jpg [https://i.imgur.com/zAA9nKg.jpg]

(by Aisaku)

Listening, Cynthia gave a nod but no reply.

Katsumi bent her arms back and twirled her gun a little. "You always use arrows, but I found this version of 'shoot them with arrows'…decent. Wish you could've kept that one and had a bit more fun."

Another nod.

Gloria stroked her chin and just gave a thumbs-up. Lynx smiled faintly and said, "I liked how it looked like his man essence was bleeding out." Siana reacted with a vocal shudder, which got the attention of just about everyone in the room. She responded, "I don't like violence…"

Lynx cracked her knuckles and told Siana, "Then you better look away when I start…" She slipped a hand into her pocket and pulled out a few black pads. She attached them to her knees, feet, and elbows. Then, she put on a pair of glossy, close-fitting black gloves and flexed her fingers a few times.

Approaching the stage, Lynx took a breath and leaned forward on her feet.

The curtains tented out and a new man stepped through them. He wore a deep blue football jersey with the number nine on the front. He was lean but his chest muscles tensed against the material of the jersey. His legs were thick, nearly bulging in the sports pants he wore. His knuckles were spread across vast hands like a mountain range. River-like veins were suggested through his skin. He was tall, a good deal over six feet. A small, grayish tattoo showed on the side of his neck. His chin was dusted by black, wiry hairs and the hair on his head was cut short but focused to the top of his head like a shiny crest.

The man paused on the stage and looked around before saying, "Dude…this isn't the locker room…and who's the nerdy girl with the glasses?"

Lynx dashed a gloved hand across her cheek, brought up her head, and ran towards the man.

She leapt with her legs tight underneath her and tossed her glasses up into the air with a flick of her wrist.

Before the man could say anything else, Lynx smashed a leg across his groin. He gave a breathless gasp as the familiar shape darted inside like a tortoise in its shell.

She didn't give him but a moment to react. Lynx bent forward on her hands and kicked him in the throat with her foot. What remained of his voice rasped in a rising tone.

Lynx vaulted back to her feet and reached out a hand to catch her glasses between two fingers before they dropped. She tucked them in her hair and cracked her knuckles. One breath.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Then she grabbed his arm and began to punch it like she was tenderizing a steak. She bolted around behind him and yanked his arm back with an audible "snap!". Once she let go, the damage done was clear. The arm sprung smaller from the force of her hold, shrinking significantly. Where she punched, the muscles softened and vibrated like they'd been liquefied, leaving a narrow, soft flow instead of the bulges of a moment before. They narrowed so much that what had been a broad elbow became more of a pointed tip. She copied the same move with the other arm, and it wasn't long before they matched.

The stunned man looked like he was finally beginning to breathe again. He rasped out two words, trying to bend his arms in defense as he spoke, "Pleeeaaaassse…stop."

Lynx's head jerked to give him one look before she swept his legs out from underneath him and cracked his knee with her elbow. With such blows, one would expect his muscular, swollen legs to balloon even bigger with bruises. But they deflated, as though punctured, and quivered uselessly as he fell back onto the stage.

Working over the length of his legs with her strikes, she missed nothing, not even his feet as his now-oversized shoes slipped off. With those done, she stepped back a little and ordered him, "Stand up, you weakling."

Groaning, the man slowly staggered to his feet and tried to find his voice.

Lynx told him, "Pathetic. Just because you had muscles you probably figured you earned the right to call yourself a man. But you're nothing. Easily beaten by me. I'm doing you a favor. You aren't worthy to call yourself a man…"

He coughed and opened his mouth, but Lynx shook her head and brought her leg around to strike his left waist. The impact compressed it, blasted away all the ropey, dense muscles he had there, and extended his hips on that side. She kicked him on the right and both sides matched. Then she gave him a deep fist in the gut which seemed to expel all the air from his lungs. It also broke his six-pack down to a smooth, still sea of flesh.

Leaning, Lynx gave him a solid kick in the behind, which finally did what would be expected of such violent strikes: His rear swelled up subtly but significantly.

He seemed to realize what was going on. He nearly reached a hand down to his groin in a brief lull of strikes but instead cupped his chest protectively and hoarsely uttered, "No…"

Lynx smiled. With a sweep of her leg, she brushed his hand away from his chest and punched with both fists till the flesh underneath swelled past all doubt. As the ever-more former-man reached over hopelessly to guard what had been changed, Lynx repeated this strategy with the other side of his chest till they also matched.

As his mouth hung open, she gave her hardest kick across his groin, which felt like a paring knife cut and left sensations which he, now she, had never imagined.

But Lynx didn't leave 'him' a moment to take in all that had happened. She pushed her down again, now a much easier task because the new girl was only a few inches taller than her instead of well over a foot. Clenching her teeth, Lynx pulled her hair with one hand and punched her across her face.

In her grip, the hair spread out like a wild plant. She punched out a new shape to her forehead and then beat her eyes into a blue color. Breaking her nose only made it turn up a bit and shrink. Her lips naturally swelled, and her chin broadened.

With a slow pant, Lynx looked down at her quarry, gave a little nod, and then rose. Slowly, on unsteady feet, so did the new girl. Reaching into her hair, Lynx tossed the glasses right at the new girl and they landed on her face. They were a bit askew but stayed there. Surprised again, the new girl pressed them a bit until they settled in place.

After cracking her neck, Lynx told her, "Your name is Nadia. From now on and forever. I don't care what your name used to be. This is your name because you didn't have the balls to defend your manhood. So, you forfeit them. As for your clothes….I don't have the skill for that. And I'm not much for pretty things." She folded her arms and looked at Nadia with an expression which wasn't quite harsh but certainly wasn't friendly.

Swallowing, Nadia looked around at herself. The football uniform hung loosely on her. She fidgeted and clung to the waistband of her pants. They wanted to fall, but she soon tightened them enough that they held up. She had to roll up the ends several times, along with her sleeves.

Lynx leaned her head back. "Cry if you want. It won't do anything."

Nadia looked Lynx in the eye and took a breath. "I know my words…won't change anything. But I promise to try my best to be a tribute to what you've made of me. If that's alright."

She raised an eyebrow and made a soft noise. "Doesn't matter what you do with this body. So long as you never try to be a man again. Because I'll find you and the next time…it really will hurt before I crush your manhood for a second time. Understood?"

Nadia nodded vigorously. "Sorry that I wasn't a better man. I'll try to be a decent woman." She seemed to consider a salute for a moment then just bowed her head and turned away to leave through the curtains.

Turning around, Lynx looked back at the others. What caught her attention first was that the Aibora was shivering and clinging tightly to the edge of her table. She stared at the Aibora and announced, "Our guest seems a little…unsettled by that last one…"

Everyone turned to look at Siana, whose eyes widened even more. She swallowed, put her hands in her lap, and suddenly exclaimed, "I'm okay! It's nothing. I just…I just…have to go to the bathroom…sorry!"

With that, she hopped out of her seat, scampered through the door, and out into the hall. Once the doors had sealed behind her, she rushed around. She really had no idea where the bathroom was. Fortunately, as she rounded a corner, there was now a helpful sign which listed the main bathrooms in the opposite direction from the concert hall.

Blasting through the swinging door to the ladies' room, the Aibora took a long breath. The bathroom was typical with pale gray tile covering every inch and a long row of simple stalls. A large, frosted window stood about seven feet tall and partly-opened beneath a covered trashcan at the far end of the room. With a hand to her forehead, she murmured, "This was a bad idea…"

Standing in front of the mirror, she touched her face softly. Finding particular pressure points, her face stiffened, becoming like a mask. With a careful tug, she pulled off everything from her neck up to reveal a larger head and shoulders underneath.

The man under the face had light-brown hair which was pressed down by the force of his disguise. His eyes matched their color. He stroked his grizzled cheek and took a breath. He told himself, "But it's been so worth it. To watch such things…by the true masters. Just need to be calmer. It'll be okay…"

Staring into the mirror, he noticed something white just on the edge of his peripheral vision. Stuck to the tile was a handwritten note which read, "THEY KNOW. Your only chance is to go out the window right now, Sean. Otherwise, you'll be their next target. No matter what happens, hope you had fun. --- The Management."

Sean hesitated, trying to make sense of the note. His eyes widened. He looked to the window. But he'd already hesitated too long. He didn't hear the door pushed open, but he did hear Cassandra's voice.

"Well well…this is quite a twist to this evening…"

Jerking his head around, Sean had to look. Cassandra stood in the doorway, simply smiling. Lynx was there too, her thighs tensed and her gaze right on him. Katsumi was in the back with her arms folded and a scowl on her face. Cynthia, just behind Lynx, already had an arrow aimed right at him. Gloria was scratching her head.

The trembling returned to Sean as he looked at all of them. He tried to squeak out a word, some word that might convince them not to bother with him, to just let him go. But, as a fan, he knew them too well. He knew there was no chance of escape.

Cassandra's smile arched as she said, "Come on, girls. Let's see how creative we can be with round two…"

Back in the bar, Kersi shrugged her shoulders, tipped her hat down and gave a quick, sympathetic look towards the bathrooms. After a moment, she returned to her work, filling a pink martini with charges like lightning and passing it to a waiting customer who she knew would find it perfectly shocking.

Just another quiet Friday.