Awake

Aaralon awoke in the same position he had been in when he had passed out.

He stared up at the hanging canopy of the bed, the dream already slipping from his grasp as he tried to recall how he had came to be there. The memories of the mistake he had made and the horror that had followed came looming out of the fog like jagged rocks.

A low rumbling in his stomach and a painful pang of hunger cut his self loathing short. He had never felt hunger like this before, it felt like his stomach was trying to eat itself.

Rolling over he realised that he was not in the same position he had been, instead of lying across the bed he was resting in it properly, the fine silken sheets pulled up to his chest. Laying on his left, in the vast expanse of empty space on the huge bed. Was a finely made serving tray that was overflowing with an enticing array of food.

He grabbed at the food like a starved animal, gorging himself on fruits and meats with wild abandon. Even the cold water tasted like the stuff of life as he poured it down his throat. Even though the tray had been filled to the brim he still managed to consume nearly everything.

When he was done he lay back, his hunger sated, he began to look around the room and at himself. Questions starting to form in his mind as he did.

The first and most glaring question was why he felt so good. Despite what had happened to him he felt no pain at all, in fact he felt as fresh as a daisy. Pulling the sheets back from his body also added another question to the mix. What the hell happened to all his body hair?

Aaralon had never had much in the way of body hair, he had been the butt of many a joke when he tried to grow a beard. The only two areas on his body that ever seemed to grow a lot of hair where his crotch and armpits. Now both of those places where perfectly smooth, running his hand over his armpits and crotch he found no hint at all of hair. The rest of his body was much the same, the demon had seemed to wipe all the hair, aside from that on his head away.

Climbing out of the bed he walked over to one of the full length mirrors that were scattered around the walls to take himself in.

Aside from the lack of hair his body seemed to be much the same as before, he had never been the most athletic of people, a little bit of fat still softened his outline, and that still seemed to be true. Yet there seemed to be something about his body that was not the same, some physical trait that was not the same as it had been.

So wrapped up was he in trying to figure out what was out of place that he did not hear the door to the chambers opening until he heard a throat being cleared.

“Mr. Lucev,”

Aaralon spun around, finding Mistress Pathfoot looking at him from the doorway. She was fully dressed, back in the stifling dress she had always worn. Her hair was back perfectly in place and she seemed to be herself.

He covered his crotch, a blush starting to crawl up his neck. This had not been something he had expected, a horrible thought that he might have dreamed everything that happened struck him as he tried to stammer out an excuse.

Pathfoot didn’t seem to notice his nudity as she spoke. “The Master would like you to attend in the Atrium in five minutes to greet our guests.”

With that she turned and left the room, leaving behind her more questions than before.