(Originally added by SandySeeker)
Suddenly the whole family found themselves magically paralyzed, unable to do anything but breathe and blink. The old crone cackled merrily and slowly walked in a circle around the group, muttering to herself as she limped along with her heavy walking stick.
“It's been so long since I had students,” she croaked in a dry, hoarse voice. “You'll all do just fine. But we'll have to make a few minor adjustments to a few of you.”
She stopped directly in front of Steve and inspected the middle-aged man.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” she said. “This won't do at all. I cannot teach witchcraft to a grown man! Even the little girl over here is almost too old to learn. But at least she's of the proper gender. I shan't permit a warlock in the house. No, no, no... too dangerous. You'll be my student, you pot-bellied balding old buffoon. But not in THIS body.”
The witch pointed the end of her cane at Steve and a strange transformation swept his body. As the rest of the Donaldsons watched helplessly, Steve's body shrank and became far more slender, petite, youthful, and feminine. His hair sprouted out, his beer belly disappeared, and his facial features became softer. Before the fearful, watching eyes of his family, Steve ceased to be a grown man and became a tiny girl, a few years younger than his own daughter.
Next, his clothing began to morph and change. His pants shortened and merged with his shirt, becoming a short, black dress with a bit of white lace trim at the hem, collar, and sleeves. His socks had become black-and-white striped tights. And his shoes became a pair of flat, maryjanes with a shiny, silver buckle. His long, dark hair suddenly tied itself into a pair of pigtailed braids symmetrically framing his tiny face.
Steve Donaldson was now the person he would've been if he'd been born a girl about nine years ago.
“Much better,” grinned the toothless old witch. “You are released from paralysis, Stephanie dear.”
“Ack!” cried Steve in a high-pitched, girlish panic. “What did you do to me?”
“Why nothing,” smiled the witch. “You've always been a nine-year old girl named Stephanie. And I am your tutor. Now, be a good girl and run to the kitchen. Fetch me a cup of a tea while I deal with the rest of your family.”
“Y-Y-Yes, ma'am,” said Steve obediently.
He felt forced to believe everything the witch had just told him... and yet he still retained his old memories. He knew Janet was his wife, Megan was his daughter, and Alan was his son. And he was afraid for them, in the clutches of his tutor. She had such powerful magic. But part of Steve was genuinely puzzled about his memories. He was only nine years old! How could he have a daughter and a son? Especially, since Megan and Alan were both older than he was. And why would Janet have married a little girl like him? Something didn't add up right. He'd have to ask his tutor for her advice on all this later. She was so wise. He knew she'd be able to make sense of his jumbled, confused memories.
Stephanie tried to put all this out of her mind and just make the mistress a good cup of tea. She wanted to learn all she could from her wise, powerful tutor. Someday, Stephanie hoped to be as great a witch as the mistress was.
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