Winter Days I

The tapping of your chisel against stone echoes around the courtyard of your villa, brilliant white flecks of stone dust being pried loose as you worked on your project.

“Quite the interesting statue you have there!” came the boisterous voice of Dumont from behind you.

“I like to think so” You reply. Dumont chuckled in response as he approached. The statue you are sculpting was that of a woman having hiked up her dress and fingered herself to orgasm, her body arcing against the wall and her face forever frozen in an orgasmic ‘o’.

“Is there any reason to the statue’s placement here?” Dumont asked, appraising your work from over your shoulder.

“It’s a fountain” you reply, continuing your work. You are just finishing up some of the finer details on the lady’s snatch. Women have a lot of folds and trying to style the stone so that it looks realistic has been a fun challenge.

“A fountain? And where is the water supposed to come from?” Dumont asked. You are the one to chuckle this time.

“Why, this young woman is a gusher!” you announce in a dramatic voice. Dumont burst out laughing at your response, patting you on the back as he did.

“I never knew you were one for creating things” the Frank told you, turning away to lean against the wall.

“I suppose it’s something I’ve been known to do in the past” you reply absently as you settle back to work. You wanted to add more detail to the woman’s snatch, chisling in lines and contours to her outer folds around her finger. Of course, for every new detail you add, you also then had to remove the tool marks to make it look more natural.

“According to Sabine, your high priestess, this is your main aspect” Dumont commented. You pause your work and cast a glance in Dumont’s direction.

“This is about the battle last night” you state “There was nothing you could have done, other than add to the casualties” you say, attempting to reassure the man.

“Deamons! In my city! Under my watch! Slaughtering MY people!” The man all but roared.

“They were more like angels . . . apparently, but it makes you wonder what actual deamons are if THOSE were the angels” you reply casually. “Gods have fallen before them” you continue “What could you have done?” you ask.

“Something” was the single word reply. Dumont pushed himself off of the wall he had been leaning against and began pacing somewhere behind you.

“Have a drink, you look stressed” you say as you conjure a cup of wine and float it in front of the man. A snort of amusement is his reply and the sound of someone forcibly grabbing a cup reaches you.

“Is there any way to stop them getting back in the city?” the Frank asked.

“I’ve taken care of that . . . hopefully” you say “the wards over the city walls should prevent angels from getting in without my knowledge at least” you add.

“With any luck they’ll learn not to stick their nose where it hurts” Dumont said as he went back to pacing.

“There!” you say, standing up from where you had been kneeling. You snap your fingers and suddenly the stone lady begins to gush.

“Quite the gusher indeed” Dumont commented with a chuckle. As for the stone lady, she was average height for a Roman woman, had long luscious locks that spilled down her shoulders and was wearing a knee length dress with the bottom bunched up in one hand. Her other hand was of course frozen on her snatch, obviously in the middle of furiously masturbating. “Do you intend to stain her?” Dumont asked.

“I’ve got a nice collection of pigments yes” you reply “I can get colours most have never even imagined” you add as you summon your own cup of wine and take a nice, refreshing sip.

“She is going to be the most brilliant shade of blonde, isn’t she?” Dumont jokingly asked. You shrug in response, she more than likely is, but she could be a brunet.

“I’m probably going to leave it like this for a while” you say, taking another sip of your wine “I suspect I’m going to see details I’ve missed for days” you add.

“It is flawless to my eyes” Dumont commented.

“You aren’t a god” you retort.

****

You sigh happily as your needle passes through the last section of your current sewing project. Of course, you had donned your female persona to do this since it has become readily apparent that certain things are more enjoyable depending on your gender. You have no idea why this is, but it probably has something to do with the odd personality shift you get when you switch sexes.

“You wanted to see . . . wait a minute,” came the voice of the Matron. The same one that ran the workshop you are technically employed at.

“Greetings!” you chirp, blinking at your action. You still haven’t quite gotten used to the different mannerisms you have as a woman yet.

“I was told that Solus Augustus wants to see me,” the Matron said warily. You’d had her report to your mansion outside of the city so you could give her a gift in secret. You also wanted her on side, but that was an optional extra.

“Yup and you have” you say, stifling a giggle at the woman’s frown. “I’m more than meets the eye” you add before shifting back into your male form. You now look absolutely fabulous in the silken turquoise shift you are wearing, as opposed to just plain cute. The Matron, for her part, went wide eyed and took several steps back, running into a table that had been set against one wall.

“Something the matter?” you ask in your now much deeper and more masculine voice. The Matron got over her shock somewhat quickly, all things considered, standing up straight and smoothing out her own dress.

“What are you?” the woman asked, giving you a look that wouldn’t be out of place on Strabo.

“The god of the sun” you reply simply before morphing back into your female form, you didn’t want to stretch out your dress after all.

“Then why were you . . . testing us,” the Matron said, coming to a conclusion part way through her question.

“Nope” you say, cutting the thread you had just been using to quilt a new mattress with. Making a mattress out of pure silk would normally be a very silly and extraordinarily expensive idea, but when you can conjure more as needed, it didn’t matter so much. “Wasn’t testing you at all, why would I do that? No, merely enjoying being a human female” you say. “Do you like Turquoise? Or would something darker be nice?” you ask and get another frown from the Matron.

“What’s this in exchange for?” the Matron asked, suspicion colouring her voice.

“Haven’t you already guessed?” you ask in reply, giving the Matron an innocent look.

“You said you’re just having fun as a human female . . .” the Matron mused “You want to know about the domestic side of it” she stated.

“Among other things” you say.

“What is this made out of?” The Matron asked, walking up and running her hand over the mattress. It was actually less of a mattress and more of a futon or bed roll, but back in this day and age, it would probably be considered a rather thick mattress.

“Silk” you reply “I could use the silk being harvested from those brand new clams people are finding on the rocks outside the city but . . .” you explain, ending the sentence with a shrug. “I’m unique in that I can just make whatever I want, whenever I want” you add.

“And yet you made this by hand” the Matron commented, raising an eyebrow and folding her arms across her chest. You nod happily before practically skipping over to another table where some blankets were neatly folded.

“Also made some blankets to go with it” you say, picking them up and dumping them on the mattress.

“Out of silk” the Matron said calmly, though her eyes were fixated on the bedding. You could almost hear the gears turning in her head as she thought about the situation.

“In my house there will be no magically creating things, you’ll work for your coin” the Matron told you, turning to face you with a stern look. “Is that understood young lady?” she demanded.

“Yes Ma’am!” you reply, standing up straight. You also notice you come to her chin, she’s a tall woman. “And if you ever want the power of ‘creation’ on your side, a brazier, portion of your evening meal into the blaze” you say, giving the older woman a smirk. The Matron regarded you for a moment before sighing.

“I can’t keep calling you ‘New Girl’ and I suspect you’re getting tired of calling me ‘Matron’” the Matron said “I am Agathena Valuria” she told you before giving you an expectant look.

“Ummmmm” you say, blushing before looking down at your feet.

“You haven’t named your female self?” the Matron asked. You nod bashfully, this whole separate personality business was very surreal. “How about Augustina?” the woman asked. You think about it for a moment, your heart beating just a little bit faster. It felt strange, you felt strange. Being named by someone felt strangely intimate, in a non-erotic way. This did nothing to stop you being slightly aroused, but that was the gender bender thing doing its charm.

“I like it” you say in a small voice. You hadn’t intended to say anything but that wasn’t a lie.

“Well then come on, we need to get these back home, I’ll give you leave to conjure some bedding once we get there, but only this one time” Agethena told you, rolling up the mattress and then hoisting it up into her arms before striding out the way she came. You dutifully scoop up the sheets and trail after your new ‘caretaker’ resolving to leave a separate instance of yourself with the woman when you wanted to attend to something elsewhere as your male form.