Plush clutched close, Dion stared out at the dark bedroom. Scared, he found he had a hard time deciding which of the three things facing him he found the most terrifying.
Hours earlier, he had discovered the amulet that had created the nightmare his life had been thrust into was no longer where he had left it. Alarmed by this, unwilling to accept what he was seeing, he had begun frantically searching as far as he could under the floor for the necklace. Tempted to take up a couple more boards, he never got the chance when, from downstairs, he mom called up, "Taylor. Dinner ready," and after replying, "Okay," he replaced the loose floorboard and trudged downstairs.
After supper, Dion had thought he'd get another chance to look for the Amulet of Zulo. But, to his disappointment, as his dad hurried from the room, his mom made him do his chores, starting with cleaning the dinner dishes. When he'd finished that, he had to help her with the goats, which meant feeding them, clean out their shed and small fenced in area, putting down fresh bedding for them, then assisting in getting them from the larger enclosure back in the smaller pens. Wondering which one had been Holly as he led the female across the yard, it suddenly came to him that, except for a name, he could recall nothing about having an older sister and that his memories insisted he was an only child.
Troubled by this, and even more determined to undo what had happened, Dion shut the doe in the shed for the night and headed back to the house before his mom could dismiss him. Lost in thought, he kicked off his shoes and drifted upstairs. Standing in the doorway to his room, thinking, he took a couple slow steps inward and after a deliberating on it a moment longer, he set about cleaning his room, searching for the amulet as he did.
When it became clear it wasn't in his room, Dion branched out and began to search other parts of the house. Starting with the upstairs bedrooms, he found the only one he didn't dare enter to search was his parent's room. When he didn't find the necklace in any of the rooms, he thought about going downstairs to look. But hearing his mom moving about, he found he didn't want to tell her what it was he was seeking. Muttering, "It would just lead to more questions," he turned his attention to the attic, certain that it wasn't up there, but figuring he might as well look, as he recalled the box left in one of the empty room and that his dad had been moving stuff about, which made Dion wondered if anything of his had been recently taken up to the attic recently.
By the time his mom told him to start getting ready for bed, Dion was positive the Amulet of Zulo hadn't ended up in the attic. Finding only what he thought was a cool looking key chain, it had attached to it what looked like a squirrel's tail with red and black fur, the ten year old dropped it on his dresser and set about getting ready for bed.
After his mom had tucked him, he snuggled up with one of the plush Unicorns on his bed. Trying to think of the amulet and his sister, he found himself instead thinking about what it had also done to him. After some time he came upon the disturbing thought that it wasn't just his inability to remember anything about Holly, but also that he could recall nothing about being a boy. He knew that his name had been Dion. Beyond that, every last memory he could call up was that of a happy life growing up as a tomboyish girl. And from this he made the disturbing realisation that, despite his insistence of disliking being a girl, he found that not only was he happy as a girl, but he actually didn't hate being one.
Frightened by this, the fear he was experiencing began to grow. An uneasy feeling slipped over him and Dion found he didn't know if it was more terrifying that he'd never find the necklace, that he might be stuck as a girl, and Holly as a goat, or that he actually didn't mind, that he actually liked, being a girl. Clutching the plush Unicorn tighter, Dion stared out at his darkened bedroom, alone with his thoughts, finding sleep was elusive tonight.
Down the hall, his father tossed and turned in an attempt to not only get comfortable, but also in an effort to drive what he viewed as the Devil's thoughts from his mind. Next to him, he heard Charlotte murmur something in her sleep and sighing, Martin thought about going to sleep on the couch.
He was at a loss as to why the thoughts continuously plagued him. Never having had the slightest interest in anything to do with girl's garments, except to help a girl out of them if she consented it was all right for him do so when they were making love, Martin was frustrated that now he could think of almost nothing else except the denim romper skirt he'd seen in the box of clothes he'd brought down from the attic and the pretty shirt that could go with it, as well as the shoes that would compliment it. Rolling over, thinking of the faded blue article of clothing, how it buttoned up in front, the shoulder straps that fastened much like bib overalls would, he muttered angrily, "Devil's thoughts. Thinking of wearing such a thing is an affront to God's eyes."
He'd tried to pray the thoughts away, to ask for guidance. When prayer didn't work, and he didn't get any advice, Martin had tried to bury the unnatural thoughts by focusing on various tasks that needed his attention around the house. Yet, even that didn't work. For the very sight of his daughter sent his mind to notions on how cute her outfit, a pair of jeans with a white t-shirt that had a horse pictured on it, was and whether he would be allowed to wear something similar.
When he saw Charlotte at supper, he found himself distracted by thoughts of asking her to teach him how to do different types of braids, among other ideas he found troublesome, such as asking her if it was all right for him and Taylor to play outside after dinner. When the meal was finished, he hastily excused himself and headed downstairs to the basement, where he again buried himself in various projects that required his attention. Working steadily, he almost found he could drive the thoughts away, until he reached for a rag to wipe something down and noticed that it had at one time been an article clothing owned by Taylor.
"Most likely a dress," Martin thought as he stared at the rag and then found himself wishing mom would buy him a pretty dress like the one Taylor had had at one time.
A quick shake of his head and tossing the bit of fabric down, he leaned forward and clasped the edge of the table as hard as he could. The unfinished wood digging into his fingers and palms, Martin wondered what the hell was wrong with him. Thinking, "These are the Devil's thoughts. A man is a man and a woman is a woman. Just as a boy is a boy and a girl is a girl," as he considered there was some exceptions, like his own daughter, who was a tomboy, but didn't want to be a boy, but they were few and far between.
"So far as I know she doesn't," he muttered as he thought about how Taylor dressed and acted as he turned away from the worktable and began to busy himself with other things, struggling to ignore the notions that kept creeping in his head.
But hours later he still hadn't managed to banish what he viewed as the Devil's thoughts. Staring up at the ceiling, the moonlight drifting in through the partially closed curtains dancing across, faintly lighting it, Martin found himself wondering if maybe he was losing his marbles or something. His thoughts drifting toward the amulet, left on top of his dresser, and he toyed with the idea that it was somehow responsible.
"What with its pornographic, disturbing image stamped upon it," he grimaced and after a moment he decided that, come the morning, he'd ask Charlotte about it. If she didn't know anything about, he would get rid of. Rolling over on his side, he shifted about in an attempt to get comfortable. Still unable to banish the thoughts about wearing pretty dresses, the denim romper skirt, playing with Taylor, or having mom teach him different ways to do up one's hair, among many, many others, Martin listened as his wife again murmured something in her sleep as he tried to get at least some sleep before he had to be up at about six.
Outside, Holly shifted restfully about the bedding laid down in the small shed. Scared to go to sleep, knowing that eventually she would, she strove to try and figure out how much more of her former self would be gone, replaced by the goat, if she did.
Frightened by how much she had lost, that she could barely remember any of her former life, let alone who her sister was, as well as that she had no idea who the taller male and female were, thought she felt she should know them and how they were in some way related to Taylor, Holly stared out into the dark. Knowing that a couple feet from where she lay was the door out into the small enclosure, her goat brain didn't see too much importance of what lay beyond it. But the part of her that still clung to what she had been knew, vaguely, that there was the larger pasture she had been led to earlier today, and the house her sister lived in. Wanting to get to the house, to find something, take back what she'd lost, she found it difficult to formulate a plan on how to do so, as the goat part of her didn't care about the building.
Fighting against the simplistic thoughts that were slowly taking over, replacing her former self with a need to eat, to rut, to flee from predators, or fight if was called for, Holly thought, "I am not a goat. I am Holly. I am human," than, as an after thought, told herself, "I think."
Unsure about the last part, especially as she didn't know what a human was, Holly shifted again. Wanting to remind herself that she was a girl, she found it hard to do so, especially since her boy parts seemed to be a constant reminder that this was no longer so. Hating that part of her anatomy, she felt her mind start to slip and reminding herself that such feelings, and the actions that came with them, like headbutting and kicking things, only led to the goat she had become take over more, she blinked and tried to calm herself as she struggled to keep the ram mind at bay. Smelling the female next door, and feeling herself get hard as thoughts of mounting the female came to mind, Holly dropped her head, buried her nose in the bedding and breathed deeply the scent of the bedding. Enjoying the smell, unaware that the ram's thoughts had interjected more than she thought, Holly continued to breath in the aromas, including those of the doe next door, as she began to rub herself against the bedding until too late did she realise what she was doing as she felt herself release and something coated her belly.
Disgusted by what she had done, Holly wanted to cry, to rail against how unfair it was that she was trapped as a male goat, that there was nothing she could think of what she could do to not be so, and that she was slowly losing who she was to the ram. Shifting, unhappy with what she had done, even as her mind insisted it had felt good to masturbate and that it would help attract the female, Holly stared into the dark, struggling to keep the male goat mind at bay, knowing that eventually she would sleep and that with it would come to risk of losing more of who she'd been.