Aubrey Schwartz, sleep-deprived grad student

One moment, Aubrey was reading in her apartment. Next, she was reading in a small, cozy cottage somewhere in the woods.

It took her forty-five minutes to notice this.

Well, it took her forty-five minutes to notice she was reading the wrong book. The transition from some generic fantasy to a whole-ass dissertation on political friction between magic users in some made-up country should’ve been more jarring, but…

It was a really interesting book, okay?

Summoners, poorly documented as they are, exist in a place of civic uncertainty. They draw power from the outer planes, and as such should fall under jurisdiction of the Church. Yet, puzzlingly, their magic is arcane in nature, not divine. Other such irregularities include the witch, the oracle, and the small minority of sorcerers and wizards who employ wild magic…

Stop, stop, stop!

She shut her eyes and jerked back.

It was happening again. The dusty old book pulled at Aubrey like a magnet, drawing her in before she could remember to stop herself. But there were other things to worry about, now that she was finally looking around.

First, location. It was far from the one room apartment she was used to. This was more… An inn from the games she liked? Or maybe a cute little house she’d see in European postcards. It invoked those sorts of feelings, at least. Walls made up of dark, tightly packed stone, with a smell she couldn’t pinpoint but still smelled nice.

Rustic. That was the word she was looking for. The room was rustic.

It was also very, very messy. Books of all shapes and sizes on every surface but the floor, with just enough space for the occasional candle or half-written note.

Controlling the Uncontrolled, volume 3. The Ethics of Wild Magic in Lawful Society

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Arcane Disorders

Idiopathic Arcane Reprimalism: Remedies and treatments for Wild Magic

Second, her body. Aubrey stood up, squeaked, fell over, and realized there was so much wrong. Seriously though, how did she even process this? Gravity tugging at her from too many new directions, everything jiggling in ways she didn’t know were possible, not feeling like the shortest goddamn person in the room—

Okay, no, stop. One thing at a time.

Her hair, once a rust-colored mop she kept bunched up for convenience, was now a cascade of vermillion curls, draping her form like the world’s softest cape. She raised a delicate hand to her face, and felt the angelic roundness of something that was decidedly not hers, with round, tender eyes, and plump lips that eased to a natural pout.

Also, pointy ears.

Going downwards, this stranger’s body was lithe and supple, with an **** elegance weaving itself into her movements. She had a perfect hourglass figure, where slender shoulders contrasted large, grapefruit-sized breasts, where a trim waist descended into wide flaring hips and long pretty legs.

Okay, Aubrey kinda liked the long pretty legs.

She stood up, careful to avoid tripping on the airy nightdress. It was old-timey, but in no way that made sense; the embroidery was too complex to be anything other than modern, and Elizabethan gowns were never known for being so… Snug. But the fabric and color couldn’t be described as contemporary, either.

Finally, the glasses. They were a dignified, gold-rim pair. She’d never worn glasses before, but something about them felt bizarrely… Important. As if, despite everything else that happened to her, the glasses were the centerpiece to the whole aesthetic.

In a quick motion, she pushed them up the bridge of her nose. She glanced down to her body, then the book-filled room. “Am I… Supposed to be some kind of sexy librarian?”

Well, no, obviously. You’re a scholar. A professor of both Arcane Study and Practice, known far and wide for your dissertations on…

“…Overlapping spells from different schools of magic,” she frowned. “And I know that. Why do I know that?”

Because you wrote it? Because you’re Professor Cordelia Pennkeeper? Renowned elven spellcaster, researcher to one of the most prestigious academies in the country, currently on **** sabbatical because—

Aubrey took a sharp breath. And another sharp breath. And another.

Okay.

So.

Not on Earth anymore. Cool. Got it.

She took another sharp, shaky breath, her heart somehow finding the strength to hammer beneath the weight of her giant-librarian-boobs.

Again, not a librarian—

“I’m lost.” Her new body came with a vague European accent, she realized. “I’m alone, I’m probably in shock, and all my friends and family are god-knows-where. But, good news, I get to be hot. That's the trade-off, right? What makes this all worth it?”

The empty silence of the room answered her. The almost-silence of the outside world answered her too, with vague crickets and birds chirping and the awareness that there wasn’t anyone else for miles.

Miss Cordelia Pennkeeper was apparently in self-imposed exile.

Aubrey whimpered.

She needed a way back. There had to be a way back. Hell, she was some famous wizard now. She probably had a spell for this, right?

Arcanist, not wizard. But yes, the memories in her head seemed to say. Long-distance movement is within your capabilities. Dimension Door was the first such spell you’ve ever mastered. Teleport reaches further, but Plane Shift is only thing truly capable of—

She didn’t allow herself the time to think. Aubrey threw a hand forward, barked out some elven incantation (holy heck she knew elven now), and watched as sparks whisked into the air from literal nothingness, growing in brightness and in number until there was a brilliant ring of golden light hovering before her.

She gasped in amazement and took a step forward, eyes just barely making out the shapes within. Buildings, almost, towering and gray but so familiar…

Then the ring shattered.

Aubrey jerked back and screamed. “What!? W-where’s the gate?”

Wild magic? That’s the fifth time this week! I loathe to admit it, but the surges are getting more frequent.

“Wild magic? What the heck is wild magic!?”

Aubrey’s hand cackled with pretty, rainbow-colored electricity.

“Uh…”

It exploded out in all directions.

“Uh…?”

Bomf!

Her nightdress burst into hundreds of tiny, vibrantly colored butterflies, flying off in every direction. And Aubrey just stood there, mouth open, her showstopper body on full, naked display.