A hint of success

Much as the Maou had said, he contacted Gob a couple of nights later and Gob found himself transported to the Maou’s room. “Gob, come and see. Your girlfriend has excelled herself,” the Maou said, directing Gob’s attention to two rings. “She crafted two large hoops with incredible intricacy and I shrank them down to ring size. I know you don’t have any aptitude for magic Gob but I can feel these rings trying to drag the magic out of me from here.”

“They are very beautiful sire,” said Gob. He wasn’t being polite. They had an impossibly intricate pattern to them in a variety of metals. At first, they just looked grey, like dull silver but the more you looked the more apparent the pattern became.

“Gob, I can’t wait. I’m going to go all-in on this test. I’m going to transform myself. The rings are too fine to fit on my fingers anyway. Let’s have some fun. You can help me decide what I look like. What race should I be?.”

Gob smiled. His relationship with the Maou was becoming less formal all the time and he started feeling more like his friend. “Okay sire.” Gob had a think. “How about an elf? A light elf. I’ve never seen one before.” He was particularly fond of drow so a light elf would be fun.

“An excellent choice.” The Maou gestured to himself. His body went indistinct for a moment and reformed. He was now shorter and decidedly feminine in a white dress that clung to his figure and was split on either side so high that the sides of his tie-up panties could be seen while the top was low enough on his generous bust that there was a good amount of cleavage. His blonde hair had lost its thick waves and was now straight down his back with an Alice band tucking it behind his, now her, long, pointed ears. “What do you think?” she said in a soft girlish voice.

Gob didn’t know if he would get in trouble but decided to be honest anyway. “Very sexy, sire.”

“I know. Elves can be so immodest. This outfit was one worn by an ambassador. I think she was trying to seduce me. She got me into bed but she was the one who ended up seduced.”

Gob was certainly seduced and he had to work hard to remember that this was his boss and not a delicate yet womanly elf. “Do you need to concentrate?” Gob asked, trying to keep his mind on the job at hand.

“I hope one day that I won’t need to but yes. I’ll limit my mana flow and you put the rings on me when I give you the signal.” The Maou got comfortable and put her hands on her lap palms facing up. She took a deep breath and focused. Gob could sense nothing but he took an opportunity to admire the impossibly beautiful woman who was sitting there in a revealing outfit with her eyes closed. After a moment she nodded and Gob slipped the rings onto her delicate hands enjoying the brief contact he had with her bare thighs as he did so.

The Maou opened her eyes and looked like she had frozen. She then looked thoughtful, looked at her hands and wiggled her fingers. She stood up, walked around a little and rubbed her arms. “I, I think it’s working,” she said cautiously. She turned to gob and a bright, beaming smile spread across her face. “Gob, I think it’s working.” She looked impossibly excited.

Gob smiled, her joy infecting him. “Congratulations, sire. Are you sure?”

“I don’t know. I’m not completely sure. What counts as something heavy to a normal person?”

Gob looked around. There was a statue in the corner. It was marble and would certainly have been impossible for him to move on his own. “How about that,” said Gob pointing at the statue.

“Are you sure? I move that statue all the time. I can never settle on where I want it.”

“I’m sure, sire. Someone like Graff could probably lift it okay but I’m sure I couldn’t and none of the maids could without magic.”

“Alright then. If you say so.” She walked over to the statue and clearly tried to pick it up as she had done before, with one hand gripping it by the leg. Nothing moved and her hand slipped away. She looked shocked and tried again with the same result. She tried it with two hands and nothing happened. She smiled weirdly to herself and then, crouching down, wrapped her arms around it she tried lifting with her knees. The statue budged the tiniest bit but she was going red in the face. She let go of it and was panting. Then the realisation struck her and she began jumping up and down. This made her generous bust bounce up and down.

“Gob, did you see? Did you see?” She ran over to him and grabbed his hands and he danced about. I’m so weak. I can’t believe it.” She picked up the chair at her desk. “I can lift it but it’s so much effort. Woah even this inkpot has weight to it. Have you felt this?” she said as she excitedly offered it to Gob.

Gob held up his hand to refuse. “I’m quite aware of how heavy things are, sire.”

For the next few minutes, Gob watched the happy elf woman running around the place trying to pick things up. After a little while, she stopped. She was panting. “WHat’s going on with my breathing?” she asked a little worried.

“It seems to me like you are out of breath. Maybe have a rest.”

“Yes, that’s what people do when they get tired, isn’t it. I know. Let’s have some tea.” She pointed at the table but nothing happened. She looked confused for a moment and then shouted. “My magic isn’t working! This is incredible. I now have to think about how I get tea. She paused for a moment. “I can’t even call another maid. This is incredible. Gob, would you please go and make me a drink?”

Gob chuckled. “Of course, sire.”

He left the fake elf happily pointing at things while nothing happened and walked to the kitchens to make tea.

Graff looked up as he came in. “Gob, haven’t seen you around much. If it hadn’t been for no new night maid turning up I would have assumed the worst. You look in good spirits.”

“Hello Graff, I am in good spirits. Things are going well for me at the moment and the Maou is in a particularly good mood.” He set about making the tea.

“A good mood eh? I haven’t heard anyone describe him like that for a while. Any idea why?”

“Something to do with a successful experiment.”

“Ah, I see. That boy always liked messing about with things. I knew him when he was as small as you Gob. I honestly wondered how he would ever cope being the Maou but he surprised us all. For the good, I should add.”

“Why did he surprise you?” Gob enquired as he waited for the kettle.

“He was a sensitive boy. So unlike the strict militaristic man his father was. He never enjoyed doing the things he had to do. Many demons would relish wielding his sort of power. He never seemed to take joy in it but he always did his duty and he earned the other demon families' respect so it all ended well.”

“I didn’t know any of that,” said Gob.

“Well, I’m only telling you now because you seem to be close to him. I bet you see it too don’t you?”

Gob thought for a moment. “I do. I don’t think he would choose power given the choice.”

“That just makes him all the better to wield it in my book. I’ve done war gob. Some demons relish it as do many of the other races. I would rather cook. Oh!” he said suddenly and dashed off to the oven. “Phew, just in time. You might as well take him one of these. He always enjoys my sweet pastries, always did. Take one for yourself too. They weren’t for anyone in particular, just trying something new.”

“Thanks, Graff. I’ll take them now. Goodnight.” He left the huge demon blowing on his latest creation to cool it down. Graff raised one big, clawed hand in farewell.

Gob got back to find the Maou sucking her finger. “Gob, look.” There was a drop of blood from a pinprick wound. “I’m actually bleeding.” She beamed at him.

“Congratulations, sire.” I have tea and Graff gave me one of his latest creations.

“Yay,” said the Maou, clapping her hands and bouncing in her seat in a very unstately way. Gob tried and failed not to peek at her chest as it jiggled.

She took the offered pastry and bit into it. “Mmm, Gob, this is incredible. You have to try it.” He was going to just eat the other one but she held it out for him. “Say ah,” she said and he somewhat self consciously took a bite of hers. It was good. Graff’s cooking always was but he was a little bemused about her behaviour. She seemed more carefree. He wondered if it had any link to what Graff had said. Maybe this was much closer to how the Maou really was.

The Maou sipped some tea. “Ooh, it’s a little hot.” she sipped it again and laughed. “It actually hurts a bit.” She took another. “My tongue feels funny now.” She looked at Gob and he could see an idea creep over her face. “Gob, I have an idea. Let’s see who’s stronger. Let’s have a fight.”

Gob was not keen on that idea. “I’m not comfortable with that, sire.”

“Aww, why?”

“Partially because you are a woman now, partially because I’m not a good fighter but mostly because you’re my boss and when you aren’t like this you could kill me with a thought.”

“I wouldn’t kill you Gob, I like you too much for that.” She sighed and thought. “I know. How about an arm wrestle? That’s just a friendly game.”

Gob couldn’t see a problem with that. “Okay then, let’s do it.”

The Maou jumped out of her chair. “Great.” She pulled up a table that she could lean over and grabbed a stool for gob all the while enjoying the fact that she struggled to move them. “There, jump up on the stool Gob and let’s do this.”

Gob climbed onto the stool. He was now face to face with an extraordinarily beautiful elf woman who was leaning forward to put her elbow on the table. Her chest hung down and he could see her silky pale mounds very clearly. He made himself focus and put his elbow on the table too. They clasped hands and she said, “Three, two, one, go.”

Gob hadn’t been sure what to expect. He assumed that she would be stronger but either she was weaker than he thought or he had gotten stronger as they were evenly matched. He saw the Maou get serious. Perhaps losing to Gob would be a bit humiliating. Thinking like that made Gob serious too and he matched her strength and even started to get the upper hand. Seeing that she was losing, the Maou really went for it.

The first sign something was wrong was a faint cracking sound. A moment later. There was darkness.

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