“Victorian London!” Runt’s voice announces before dissolving into a faint, hollow sound, echoing through the time stream, which now opened all around me, engulfing me and carrying me away into the past.
The journey through the corridor of time time was incredible, unbelievable, the sights and sounds...if that is even the right word for what I experienced...came and went in a flash, no sooner invading my consciousness than being stripped from it, leaving only the faintest of memories, like whispers of half forgotten dreams. One impression that stayed with me was of being, for a split second, at the very axis of time and space, the centre of the heart of creation.
Finally I returned to surroundings that I could at least make sense of, a place that made me realize that I was back in my native reality.
That being said, the place was far from familiar...I found myself in the middle of a richly decorated room, lit brightly by a large number of candles, including a lavishly carved candelabra made of ebony. To my modern sensibilities the room looked a bit cramped and even....tacky? Overdecorated? The walls were covered by patterned, emerald green wallpaper as well as costly paintings framed in gold, depicting aristocratic looking people or the English countryside. Heavy, red curtains covered the windows and a cosy fire flickered in the fireplace. There were sofas and chairs, carved and decorated just as richly as the rest of the rooms, potted plants of exotic origins and in one corner I even saw a pianoforte. I was in a Victorian parlour! That demon had really, actually sent me into the past!
I moved around the room somewhat awkwardly, unsure what to do next when I came across a slender, floor length mirror. To my surprise, and in contradiction to Runt’s words, I had not changed to fit my surroundings; I was still the same guy, a messy haired millennial in a t-shirt, jeans and sneakers.
I scratched my head, what was going on here? I considered trying to call for Runt but before I could do that a nearby door opened and a man entered the parlour. Unlike me this man seemed right at home in these surroundings; a tall and regal man in a deep red waistcoat and cravat. His finely cut, beared face carried an aura of detachment, his long limbs moved with an almost aristocratic grace, there was a wineglass in his slender hand. Clearly he was a member of either the landed gentry or else of the emerging industrial upper class, the quintessential Victorian gentleman.
A moment later this gentleman and I stood opposite one another. I fully expected him to freak out about my presence, after all, from his perspective I most likely was a burglar or some other threatening presence. I know I would have lost it if I walked into my living room to find a complete stranger standing there.
However, the gentleman did not freak out, no, not all. He retained his calm, detached attitude, only a cocked eyebrow even giving away that he regarded me as an anomaly.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice commanding and hard, the voice of somebody keenly aware of his position above the “common crowd” and while I was still fishing for an answer that would sound even remotely plausible he already continued to belt me with more questions, “what are you doing here? How did you get in? Do you not know this is my home? I recommend that you leave again, good chap before I...”
The gentleman’s voice died, his handsome face becoming strained as if from pain. His eyes bulged as he lost his calm composure, the wine glass falling and shattering on the ground as he gripped his chest and started gasping for air.
I froze up at this, what was happening? Had I given the poor guy a heart attack by my sudden appearance in his home? I took a tentative step closer to the convulsing guy, trying to help. However, just as I was about to grip his shoulder the gentleman was engulfed in light. It was a cold white light that appeared to originate from inside the guy’s body; starting as a faint glow underneath the guy’s skin and ending as a sudden, blinding flash that forced me to avert my gaze and close my eyes. I heard a painful cry and then silence and a retinal afterimage obscuring my whole vision.
By the time I regained my sense of sight not a trace of the gentleman remained. I had expected a body, a pile of ash, anything, but the guy was just gone, completely vanished, or almost so. As if a guy disappearing in a flash of light hadn’t been strange enough I saw a wooden stick hovering in midair, exactly at the place where the gentleman had stood. Upon closer inspection it turned out to be a cane, a walking stick often carried by men of this era. It was a finely crafted piece as well, polished ebony topped by a large garnet cast in silver filigree.
For a few moments I just stood there watching this cane inexplicably hovering in the air. Strange, I thought to myself, the guy had not been carrying a cane when he disappeared, where did it come from...
I felt a shiver running down my spine as I realized that the cane most likely WAS the gentleman, transformed into an inanimate object! Was that Runt’s doing, or that of one of the others of his kind he had talked about? I looked around the room trying to spy any sign of demonic activity, but could not see anything , though truth be told I did not been know what to look for.
Finally whatever spell or power kept the cane suspended in midair faded and the stick fell to the ground. Instinctively I caught it and seeing it in my hands like that I realized that only now I saw how exquisitely crafted the cane was, the way smooth, polished ebony almost caressed my hands or the garnet, deep red as the gentleman’s waistcoat had been, caught the light of the candles and reflected it brilliantly. It was truly a work of art, as elegant and handsome as the man it had been created from.
Admiring the cane it took me a few seconds to realize that, for some reason, I could no longer feel the polished ebony against my hands...it as almost as if there was some sort of barrier between my hand and the cane, it felt like...leather? Yes incredibly soft, thin leather....
I looked down and saw my hands encased in a pair of exquisite looking, light grey kid gloves. Confused by this I examined one of my suddenly gloved hands. The glove fit like a second skin, clearly tailor made to my exact measurements; the stitching along the fingers, the topping on the back of my hand...it all looked extremely well crafted and costly. In my own time I had never worn gloves, even in the midst of winter, disliking the sensation of not being able to feel things, but now I found myself quite enjoying the sensation of the soft, thin kid leather against my skin.
So absorbed was I into admiring my new gloves that I did not notice the skin along my arms paling until the new colour had almost reached my elbows. My skin had always had a sort of natural tan but now it started to fade into milky white. Along with that my body changed; my somewhat squat body shape elongating and becoming considerably more slender. Even my hands changed; from chubby, stubby worker’s hands to elegant, slender ones that had clearly never worked a day in the life with long, fine fingers and the gloves changed along with them, still fitting like a second skin.
There was another flash of light and my clothes disappeared, leaving me stark naked except for the gloves and the cane. Now I noticed that in addition to my body becoming taller and more slender, it also became fitter and more muscular. Unnecessary fat melted away, revealing well defined muscle. Don below my penis started to lengthen....and regrowing its foreskin. A shiver went through my body as this sensation of transformation caused my cock to harden, now truly displaying how much larger...and thicker...it had become. I touched my shaft with one finger...and the sensation of the kid leather against my dick sent another wave of pleasure through my body. Man, this new cock was almost frightfully sensitive...
Curious about these changes I returned to the mirror and almost had to laugh at the sight of this fit, trim guy dressed in nothing but elegant kid gloves and carrying a cane.
On my reflection in the mirror I could see body hair growing in, I had always been very smooth but now a tangle of body hair started to cover my pecks and spread over my belly in a treasure trail. Laughing I started to brush through the matt of hair covering my chest. Whatever was happening again, it was freaking sweet.
There was another flash of light and I was naked no more; instead I was now dressed exactly as the gentleman had been before he became my cane; a waistcoat of deep red silk with golden buttons and a black cravat and a pair of grey trousers patterned with broad stripes, all topped by a long, black overcoat and a elegant, grey top hat.
Chuckling I brushed over my new clothes, taking off my top hat, revealing my still messy hair, now looking jarring next to my elegant outfit and I realised that I was becoming the gentleman who had turned into my cane. Yes! What had runt said? He’d have to find a life to put me in...he caused me to replace that other man!
As if to confirm my theory my hair started to change to reflect the gentleman’s in both colour and style; the messy, shaggy strands arranged themselves into much more elegant, glossy curls as they darkened to a rich chestnut colour, reflecting the candlelight with an auburn sheen. My hairline receded at my temples, while I also grew a pair of striking, closely trimmed sideburns.
My facial features rearranged, almost like silly putty. My face became longer, more solemn, my lips thinner, my nose fine and aquiline, my brows highly arched as I became the perfect mirror image of the disappeared man. Hair started to sprout around my mouth, growing into a striking, well groomed mustache and beard and my transformation was complete.
Instinctively I assumed a straight, more elegant pose, one gloved hand leisurely resting on my cane, the other still holding my top hat. I felt like freaking out, I wanted to shout, laugh, run around and find people to tell that I had just been completely transformed into a Victorian gentleman. However, something inside me kept those impulses in check, almost like a dam keeping holding back the waters of a river and so the only visible expression of this firework of feelings was one cocked eyebrow.
This confused me, and to tell the truth it scared the shit out of me, I opened my mouth to yell “What the fuck?!” but again something kept those words from actually being said.
“Well I do say,” were the words I found myself speaking instead, delivered in a perfectly even tone, “this is quite curious...”
I wanted to grimace at that, but again my face didn’t let me. What the hell was I saying? I sounded like a complete tool....I did not talk like that!
I raised my eyebrows as realization dawned, I, or rather my old self, might not have talked like that, but the man I had just become did! Suddenly it all made sense, my body somehow censoring my actions and speech, it was Runt’s doing, to mask the fact that I had replaced the original owner of this house and to help me blend into this age.
Searching my mind I found that now had the memories and knowledge of the man I had replaced. I was Lord Alistair Coy, Third Duke of Blankshire and owner of Mulberry Grove, the fine estate I currently resided at. I was the very essence of a modern British aristocrat; I read in Greek and Latin, spoke French, knew the works of Plutarch and Aristotle and Julius Caesar by heart. I spent hunting season chasing foxes on horseback, my summers in the country side and my winters in the courts of London Town. I had seen the cities of Europe on the Grand Tour and had possessions in the colonies down in Oceania. I was the very best my country had to offer, the best and most powerful Empire under the sun in the zenith of its power, under its best monarch, her majesty Queen Victoria.
I smiled at my reflection, “What a splendid transmogrification...”