"Harry," Bob said, "And I want you to know that I say this in the spirit of pure observation, with no pejorative meaning intended, but, you appear to be a bitch in heat."
Oh. I sank back on my haunches as several things slotted in to place. That weird urgent unsettled feeling that had been hanging over me since the transformation turned out to be, filtered through the wrong species and apparently also the wrong gender, just that I was horny as hell. And as soon as I realized it, it got a lot harder to ignore. It felt like the White Court mojo that makes you think about nothing but sex, now, need, but without the undercurrents of wrongness and artificiality that you get from a succubus. This was coming from inside me, and it was all-natural. Female dogs, it turned out, got the pure stream of what the White Court was just trying to mimic.
I whined, high in my throat. I couldn't help myself. This may have been the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to me, and believe me, there are a lot of candidates on that list. But I still wanted, and even under the strong scent of garlic, I could feel Mouse's pheromones calling to me.
"Can't he talk?" Bob asked brightly.
Of course I can't, I'm a dog, I tried to say, but it came out as "Grow ruffra ra gra rrarr ra growf," or something like that.
Mister managed to convey with nothing but a twist of his head and a flick of his tail that he was shocked someone as fundamentally impaired as me had even managed to walk, much less talk.
"He hasn't yet," Mouse said, tilting his head, worried. "I thought it might be part of whatever spell is on him."
"Hmm. No, I don't think that's it," Bob said. "Harry, you're trying to talk with your mouth, but your throat isn't built for talking any more. You're thinking about it too much. Try just saying something without thinking about it. You should be able to communicate just like Mouse is."
Have you ever tried to do something without thinking about it while thinking about not thinking about it? It's even harder than it sounds. But not thinking about things is actually a surprisingly useful skill for a wizard, so with just a little bit of mental contortionism, I managed it, sinking myself into the dog's senses just enough to manage to say, "This sucks, Bob," without my tongue or my teeth trying to get in the way.
"Oh, Stars and Stones, thank you," Mouse said, sounding almost as relieved as I was.
"Not very likely, Harry," Bob said gleefully. "While animals can get up to an amazing variety of positions, oral sex isn't a usual part of canine--"
"Bob," I said, growling, "Shut up."
"What happened, Harry?" Mouse asked.
I gave them the short version of what had happened on my visit to Fix - the strange possibly-not-Sidhe woman, the abortive argument, Fix's protestations, the spell. Halfway through Mister started purring smugly, which I think was his version of laughing at me.
When I finished, Mouse rubbed his paw along his muzzle again, then sent another cloud of garlic dust up. We needed the booster; I was starting to get used to the garlic, and I'd almost gotten distracted from my storytelling a few times. Mouse has very deep and sensitive eyes. I started trying to remember where my bottle of peppermint extract was, and if it was somewhere that a very clever dog and cat could retrieve it from, if the garlic stopped working entirely. I wasn't sure I'd have the willpower to stay in the circle.
And I was fairly sure Mouse wouldn't have the willpower to stay away if I left it: he was lying alongside the copper ring, the hair of his belly pressed right against the ward, as close as he could get. "Harry, why do these things happen to you?" he asked plaintively.
Bob was bouncing the skull so hard I was afraid he'd fall off his shelf, so I gave him permission to talk again.
"Harry, you're an idiot sometimes," he said solemnly.
"Thanks," I told him. "I hadn't realized. Do you have anything helpful to add, or are you just going to mock me some more?"
"Well, as for this Ari woman. It would be helpful if you remembered anything about her appearance that didn't involve her relative attractiveness, but have you ever read the Four Branches of the Mabinogi?" he asked me.
"Yeah, but it's been awhile," I told him. Justin had made us study at least a little about most world mythologies, trying to give us the basics, I eventually realized, without telling anything we could use to be dangerous. I'd kept it up, but I'd never seen a reason to go back to the Welsh. I racked my brain, trying to figure out what Ari might have to do with it. Ari-- Ari -- "Arianrhod?" I said finally, incredulous. "You think that was actually Arianrhod?" I desperately racked my brains for everything I knew about Arianrhod. She didn't deal with mortals much anymore, that I'd heard of. Welsh goddess, daughter of Dôn, sister of Gwydion. "Oh fuck," I said. "Gwydion and Gilfaethwy."
"I think so, Harry," Bob said, nodding the skull a little bit.
"I am so screwed," I said. "Literally."
"Unless we figure out something really creative, then yes, probably."
"I don't know the Mabinogi," Mouse said. "Who's Arianrhod?"
"She's a Celtic goddess," Bob said. "Handles the moon, sorcery, motherhood, and running water. Think Hecate, only prettier and slightly more vindictive."
"You pissed off a Goddess, Harry?" Mouse asked. Even Mister looked slightly impressed.
I hunkered down into myself, embarrassed. "I thought the Celtic pantheon were pretty much retired. Don't hear much about them these days, except Gwydion and Govannon among the neopagan types. And Brigit, sometimes, but she's mostly Christian these days."
"They deal more with the Sidhe folk than with humans. Actually the Fae you've been dealing with are descended from them - sort of. When their religion faded, some of their people wanted to stay closer to the mortal world, so they settled in the faerie lands, and gave up a lot of their power along the way. They're the people who became the Aes Sidhe or the Daoine Sidhe or the Daoine Maithe - the fairy folk. Mostly Winter Court. Maeve and Mab and Lea are right out of that lot. But real gods and goddesses? The Children of Danu, the Tuatha de Danaan? They're every bit as powerful as they ever were. They tend to keep an eye on the Sidhe, though. Act protective when they feel like it, just kibitz when they don't, which is more often."
"Like the Calaquendi and the Moriquendi," I said.
"Yeah, sure, if you insist on putting everything in terms of Tolkien, Harry. Or you could just say that Arianrhod and her brothers are still capable of scaring the shit out of Mab."
"So what did Arianrhod do to Harry?"
I met Bob's eyes, and then looked away. "The most well-preserved story about Arianrhod and her brothers," I said, "well, it's kind of a long and complicated story. But when their Uncle Math decided that Gwydion and Gilfaethwy needed to be punished for something, he turned them into a succession of male and female animals, and left them stuck that way until they'd, um, reproduced. I think it was supposed to humiliate them. And, um, maybe teach them a little bit of compassion for women?"
"Oh," Mouse said, rolling over. "So you were being your usual self, and Arianrhod decided to try out the old family curse on you."
I lashed my tail at him. "Yes, but Gwydion and Gilfaethwy deserved it," I snarled.
Mouse gave me a far-too-knowing look. "So if we know what the spell is, and who cast it, how do we get it off him?"
"We don't," Bob said. I glared at him. "No, seriously, Harry, we don't. I can't do much without someone to be my hands, Mouse and Mister are smart but they're not wizards, and if I guess right, you can only manage the most basic of magic. Arianrhod's used to dealing with sorcerers, she'd be an idiot if she left you access to your powers."
He was right, but I didn't want to admit it. My lips curled up. "So we get help."
"Who? She's a goddess, Harry. No mortal spellslinger is going to be able to dent it. And the Faerie Courts wouldn't be able to do anything with it, even if they were willing to try. You'd have to get someone else who's capable of throwing around divine power, someone you can reach without any magic of your own, and who do we know in Chicago who has those kinds of connections?"
I'm pretty sure Bob meant it as a rhetorical question, but the minute he said it, we all knew the answer. Nobody said it, but Mister managed do to a spot-on impression of a small, green-eyed, very smug tiger.
"You mean Michael, right? He can use his Warrior of God thing to help me out?"
"Mmm. Maybe," Bob said. "But the Christian God's never really been in to that sort of thing. Actually the only other European pantheon that has a history of transforming men into female animals is the Norse."
And I didn't know for sure, no, but I had an acquaintance in Chicago with a history of gathering power to himself. And a very muscular, very Nordic bodyguard-slash-consultant who tended to move around in a suspicious cloud of Wagner.
I am so blown away. When I prompted this (er, OP. hi!) I'd totally been whaaaat? and laughing at my mis-brain and thinking it was pure silliness. But you are rocking the house, and I'm swooning. Lady Gregory was probably my most-read author when I was 8. I've read beyond her translations, of course, but. Yeah. Gold stars, all around.
Oh my. I'd put off reading this fic because the idea of the prompt rather scared me off, but I am SO GLAD I got over myself and read this, because it is FANTASTIC and also utterly hysterical.
Also I cannot get over the fact that there's actual mythological precedent. Somehow I always manage to forget JUST HOW CRACKY mythology can be.
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Re: Fill: Harry gets his bitch on (3/?)
(Anonymous) 2011-02-10 05:29 am (UTC)(link)Oh. I sank back on my haunches as several things slotted in to place. That weird urgent unsettled feeling that had been hanging over me since the transformation turned out to be, filtered through the wrong species and apparently also the wrong gender, just that I was horny as hell. And as soon as I realized it, it got a lot harder to ignore. It felt like the White Court mojo that makes you think about nothing but sex, now, need, but without the undercurrents of wrongness and artificiality that you get from a succubus. This was coming from inside me, and it was all-natural. Female dogs, it turned out, got the pure stream of what the White Court was just trying to mimic.
I whined, high in my throat. I couldn't help myself. This may have been the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to me, and believe me, there are a lot of candidates on that list. But I still wanted, and even under the strong scent of garlic, I could feel Mouse's pheromones calling to me.
"Can't he talk?" Bob asked brightly.
Of course I can't, I'm a dog, I tried to say, but it came out as "Grow ruffra ra gra rrarr ra growf," or something like that.
Mister managed to convey with nothing but a twist of his head and a flick of his tail that he was shocked someone as fundamentally impaired as me had even managed to walk, much less talk.
"He hasn't yet," Mouse said, tilting his head, worried. "I thought it might be part of whatever spell is on him."
"Hmm. No, I don't think that's it," Bob said. "Harry, you're trying to talk with your mouth, but your throat isn't built for talking any more. You're thinking about it too much. Try just saying something without thinking about it. You should be able to communicate just like Mouse is."
Have you ever tried to do something without thinking about it while thinking about not thinking about it? It's even harder than it sounds. But not thinking about things is actually a surprisingly useful skill for a wizard, so with just a little bit of mental contortionism, I managed it, sinking myself into the dog's senses just enough to manage to say, "This sucks, Bob," without my tongue or my teeth trying to get in the way.
"Oh, Stars and Stones, thank you," Mouse said, sounding almost as relieved as I was.
"Not very likely, Harry," Bob said gleefully. "While animals can get up to an amazing variety of positions, oral sex isn't a usual part of canine--"
"Bob," I said, growling, "Shut up."
"What happened, Harry?" Mouse asked.
I gave them the short version of what had happened on my visit to Fix - the strange possibly-not-Sidhe woman, the abortive argument, Fix's protestations, the spell. Halfway through Mister started purring smugly, which I think was his version of laughing at me.
When I finished, Mouse rubbed his paw along his muzzle again, then sent another cloud of garlic dust up. We needed the booster; I was starting to get used to the garlic, and I'd almost gotten distracted from my storytelling a few times. Mouse has very deep and sensitive eyes. I started trying to remember where my bottle of peppermint extract was, and if it was somewhere that a very clever dog and cat could retrieve it from, if the garlic stopped working entirely. I wasn't sure I'd have the willpower to stay in the circle.
And I was fairly sure Mouse wouldn't have the willpower to stay away if I left it: he was lying alongside the copper ring, the hair of his belly pressed right against the ward, as close as he could get. "Harry, why do these things happen to you?" he asked plaintively.
Bob was bouncing the skull so hard I was afraid he'd fall off his shelf, so I gave him permission to talk again.
"Harry, you're an idiot sometimes," he said solemnly.
"Thanks," I told him. "I hadn't realized. Do you have anything helpful to add, or are you just going to mock me some more?"
"Well, as for this Ari woman. It would be helpful if you remembered anything about her appearance that didn't involve her relative attractiveness, but have you ever read the Four Branches of the Mabinogi?" he asked me.
"Yeah, but it's been awhile," I told him. Justin had made us study at least a little about most world mythologies, trying to give us the basics, I eventually realized, without telling anything we could use to be dangerous. I'd kept it up, but I'd never seen a reason to go back to the Welsh. I racked my brain, trying to figure out what Ari might have to do with it. Ari-- Ari -- "Arianrhod?" I said finally, incredulous. "You think that was actually Arianrhod?" I desperately racked my brains for everything I knew about Arianrhod. She didn't deal with mortals much anymore, that I'd heard of. Welsh goddess, daughter of Dôn, sister of Gwydion. "Oh fuck," I said. "Gwydion and Gilfaethwy."
"I think so, Harry," Bob said, nodding the skull a little bit.
"I am so screwed," I said. "Literally."
"Unless we figure out something really creative, then yes, probably."
"I don't know the Mabinogi," Mouse said. "Who's Arianrhod?"
"She's a Celtic goddess," Bob said. "Handles the moon, sorcery, motherhood, and running water. Think Hecate, only prettier and slightly more vindictive."
"You pissed off a Goddess, Harry?" Mouse asked. Even Mister looked slightly impressed.
I hunkered down into myself, embarrassed. "I thought the Celtic pantheon were pretty much retired. Don't hear much about them these days, except Gwydion and Govannon among the neopagan types. And Brigit, sometimes, but she's mostly Christian these days."
"They deal more with the Sidhe folk than with humans. Actually the Fae you've been dealing with are descended from them - sort of. When their religion faded, some of their people wanted to stay closer to the mortal world, so they settled in the faerie lands, and gave up a lot of their power along the way. They're the people who became the Aes Sidhe or the Daoine Sidhe or the Daoine Maithe - the fairy folk. Mostly Winter Court. Maeve and Mab and Lea are right out of that lot. But real gods and goddesses? The Children of Danu, the Tuatha de Danaan? They're every bit as powerful as they ever were. They tend to keep an eye on the Sidhe, though. Act protective when they feel like it, just kibitz when they don't, which is more often."
"Like the Calaquendi and the Moriquendi," I said.
"Yeah, sure, if you insist on putting everything in terms of Tolkien, Harry. Or you could just say that Arianrhod and her brothers are still capable of scaring the shit out of Mab."
"So what did Arianrhod do to Harry?"
I met Bob's eyes, and then looked away. "The most well-preserved story about Arianrhod and her brothers," I said, "well, it's kind of a long and complicated story. But when their Uncle Math decided that Gwydion and Gilfaethwy needed to be punished for something, he turned them into a succession of male and female animals, and left them stuck that way until they'd, um, reproduced. I think it was supposed to humiliate them. And, um, maybe teach them a little bit of compassion for women?"
"Oh," Mouse said, rolling over. "So you were being your usual self, and Arianrhod decided to try out the old family curse on you."
I lashed my tail at him. "Yes, but Gwydion and Gilfaethwy deserved it," I snarled.
Mouse gave me a far-too-knowing look. "So if we know what the spell is, and who cast it, how do we get it off him?"
"We don't," Bob said. I glared at him. "No, seriously, Harry, we don't. I can't do much without someone to be my hands, Mouse and Mister are smart but they're not wizards, and if I guess right, you can only manage the most basic of magic. Arianrhod's used to dealing with sorcerers, she'd be an idiot if she left you access to your powers."
He was right, but I didn't want to admit it. My lips curled up. "So we get help."
"Who? She's a goddess, Harry. No mortal spellslinger is going to be able to dent it. And the Faerie Courts wouldn't be able to do anything with it, even if they were willing to try. You'd have to get someone else who's capable of throwing around divine power, someone you can reach without any magic of your own, and who do we know in Chicago who has those kinds of connections?"
I'm pretty sure Bob meant it as a rhetorical question, but the minute he said it, we all knew the answer. Nobody said it, but Mister managed do to a spot-on impression of a small, green-eyed, very smug tiger.
"You mean Michael, right? He can use his Warrior of God thing to help me out?"
"Mmm. Maybe," Bob said. "But the Christian God's never really been in to that sort of thing. Actually the only other European pantheon that has a history of transforming men into female animals is the Norse."
And I didn't know for sure, no, but I had an acquaintance in Chicago with a history of gathering power to himself. And a very muscular, very Nordic bodyguard-slash-consultant who tended to move around in a suspicious cloud of Wagner.
"Fuck my life," I said.
Re: Fill: Harry gets his bitch on (3/?)
(Harry love this is why people keep telling you not to be rude to people bigger then you are.)
Re: Fill: Harry gets his bitch on (3/?)
(Anonymous) 2011-02-10 05:36 am (UTC)(link)"I am so screwed," I said. "Literally."
Yup. Sorry, Harry.
Re: Fill: Harry gets his bitch on (3/?)
(Anonymous) 2011-02-10 06:01 am (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: Harry gets his bitch on (3/?)
(Anonymous) 2011-02-10 06:46 am (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: Harry gets his bitch on (3/?)
(Anonymous) 2011-02-10 05:44 am (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: Harry gets his bitch on (3/?)
(Anonymous) 2011-02-10 05:46 am (UTC)(link)I don't know why, but out of everything, this made me lol XD
there there Harry, it'll get better. maybe.
Re: Fill: Harry gets his bitch on (3/?)
Also, if this is headed where it seems to, god, that's gonna be so uncomfortable between Mouse and Harry afterward...
<3 <3 <3
Re: Fill: Harry gets his bitch on (3/?)
(Anonymous) 2011-02-10 06:50 am (UTC)(link)Also I cannot get over the fact that there's actual mythological precedent. Somehow I always manage to forget JUST HOW CRACKY mythology can be.
Re: Fill: Harry gets his bitch on (3/?)
(Anonymous) 2011-02-10 05:10 pm (UTC)(link)