"Maa’ti! You're awake!"
Martin and Chad turned to see three elegantly dressed women standing in the entry way.
Elegantly? Martin thought as he shook his head slightly, trying to will h isbrain to reassess that thought. He looked over their coverings. To Martin, they would have looked primitive, tribal, hardly feminine. But to Maa’ti, they were what most would consider beautiful.
Man, this body...it's really doing a number on my mind. Even my sense of aesthetics is changing. Regardless, it's not my style. I'd rather dress like Ruut.
Envy filled him. While Ruut would have a prominent place in the tribe as medicine man, the role lacked formalism. He was free to dress how he wanted, marry who he wanted, and express himself how he wanted. But he... she, had been slotted into this role, a role she didn't even want, because her father just happened to impress the chief, and forced to merry a boy who clearly had a crush on someone else!
Martin blinked. He wasn't sure where those thoughts came from, or that knowledge. Did I just think of someone in the tribe as my dad? And Chad is ...interested in someone else?
The handmaidens stepped into the tent, interrupting Martin's thoughts. Their eyes trained on Martin, Chad stepped out of their way. He unexpected nervousness filled him in their presence. As Chatok, he knew that while he was prince, Maa’ti's handmaidens were not to be trifled with. They performed their duties with the ultimate reverence - reverence that seemed to most often manifested in scolding. Raising a perfect future queen was their duty, and they had little patience from anything that diverged from their very specific view of perfection.
One of them women approached Martin. Pa'lot, her name appeared in Martin's mind. Bending slightly, she grabbed Maa’ti's shoulders, a scrutinizing look on her face. The strength of her grip manifested her intensity.
"Maa’ti, girl, let me take a look at you" her voice was curt, serious. Martin felt the woman's eye's studying her, scanning every inch for something out of place. "Hair a mess, clothes - muddy. This is not how a future queen presents herself. Shameful. "
"A future queen must never venture out to the jungle. That's a man's place." Another handmaiden chimed in.
"You cannot leave this tent looking like this" said Pa'lot. Raising a hand, she snapped. A fourth handmaiden rushed in with a bundle of new vestments. Without a word, the ladies undressed Martin and began to tend to her while preparing the new clothes. One gently scrubbed his various knicks, bruises and dirt stains, another tended to his hair. It was a flurry of well-practiced activity.
"You are soon going to be of age, Maa’ti" Pa'lot said as the women worked "Now you must dress like a woman, a queen. No more dirt, no more jungle."
A woman Martin thought, the word prompting a confusion of emotions that added to his already fierce annoyance at his overbearing courtiers. It hit him that that while he was now just a girl, soon he would become a woman . A woman who would like boys. A woman who would grow breasts. Get pregnant. Have periods. Confusion slipped into fear. A woman was a far cry from the man he'd been.
Not just a woman She - he- thought but the kind of woman they want me to be . Martin shivered at the idea of being stuck in court all day, unable to have fun or play. This annoyance caused his thoughts to slowly slip. They wandered to an alternative future, his- her dream life. She pictured herself in 10 years. Tall, muscular, a spear in hand, nothing but a loin cloth to cover her. Well acquainted with the trees, she confidently leaps through the branches. Her breath is quick, ample breasts -because of course she will be well endowed - heaving with each inhale. She deftly lands on a branch, feet gripping the wood with almost the dexterity of an ape.
Martin paused. He realized that he had drifted into thinking like Maa’ti. But for some reason, he found himself not caring. He didn't want to stop. In that moment even picturing what he'd look like with well-developed breasts - something he knew should give him pause, just excited him.
"Perfect" Pa'lot said, standing to get a fuller assessment of her 'work' "Now you are fit to be in the presence of the chief."
Martin ignored her, more interested in his own fantasizing. Her mind's eye saw her on the branch, hair waving in the air. From another branch, a tall, muscular figure leaped onto hers. Mentally, she winced. She knew it - SHOULD - be Chatok, but she just didn't want it to be. Her mind turned to Ruut. He was cute, and clearly interested in her, but...that meant little; he was interested in everyone and everything. He, like Chatok, was a friend, not a future... mate. She wanted someone stronger, masculine. She thought through the other boys in the tribe and knew exactly who she wanted it to be.
Her mind seemed to break. Confusion and a note of fear filled her as her mind both knew who that person was yet at the same time, that person didn't seem to exist. She knew but she did not know. It was as if there was an empty slot in her mind that the universe had yet to fill. Someone was...missing.
Yet to fill.... Yet. Martin thought, the mental jolt returning his mind to himself. As the women circled him, each proudly assessing his work, he was lost in thought, torn between his old self, new body, and this strange hole in his memory.