They acted as though it hadn't happened, although Reg realized that the whole point of the club, more or less, was that moment.

Marie seemed more vibrant than before. The colors in her painting were brighter, the background details more elaborate. There was a pinkness in her cheeks and above her breasts that hadn't been there before.

"Now," she said, "that I've had my tribute, it's time for your lesson."

"To thank you for bringing me your new member," she giggled "I'll show you how to complete the potion you started last time. Go ahead and bring out the cauldron and the beaker."

"After completing what we did last year, your potion needed to age at least a month... but you foolish boys had to go on break over the summer, so it wound up being three. At any rate, you're ready now for the final step."

"It's simple at this point, fortunately: You'll add ground boomslang skin, mixed with part of the person you wish to imitate. I recommend hair, it's the easiest to get, but if you've got toenails or teeth or even toes, that works too."

Reg realized, with a chill, what was happening: Polyjuice. This was bad. Worse than a muggle making a fake ID.

Awesome. That must be how they got the booze.

"Now, boys. It's almost 2. You better get back before Smythe finds you missing. You get that boomslang skin and your intended hair, and I'll see you in a week at midnight."

Saturday morning they were allowed to sleep late. Reg woke midmorning in a daze, unsure if he'd dreamt the entire night's events before.

Gerry was already up. "Where were you last night? That beef at supper give you the squits?"

"No."

"What then?"

"Nothing."

"So, the squits it was."

"I was … I was seeing a girl."

"DEFINITELY diarrhea, then."

Reg let it lie. The truth was too strange, and too forbidden to speak.

Once again, it was during study hall that Reg found his little black book nudging him with a new message."

QUENTIN: Who do you think is the prettiest girl in the entire school.

REGINALD: Sara McInness. Definitely. Classic.

QUENTIN: I guess. You could see her winning a BAFTA award and meeting the Queen. But I mean sexy. Which girl do you most want to see naked.

REGINALD: Well, Alice Hopwood, then.

QUENTIN: Why?

REGINALD: Sara is the girl your mum likes. Alice is exciting. She's naughty. Her hair looks like she's been in bed, and not just sleeping. Mostly I just can't look away from her ass.

QUENTIN: I have an assignment for you.

REGINALD: Huh?

QUENTIN: I'm your prefect. You're supposed to just say "yes, what do you need?" when I say I need you to do something.

REGINALD: OK, what do you need?

QUENTIN: I need some of Alice's hair.

REGINALD: Why?

QUENTIN: Don't ask why. You'll thank me. You have 6 days.

In retrospect, Reg should have known why.

He wasn't sure how to go about it, though. Alice may have looked like a tart, but she kept quite busy with study halls, sports, and other clubs. The clubs! Reg didn't quite think he could slip into the girl's football team so easily, but he could certainly be credible as a member of the Arithmancy club, which conveniently met right after football. Alice would still have her gym bag with her, and in that, her hairbrush. He'd just have to sit behind her, nab it when she wasn't looking, and then leave as soon as politely possible.

The first two steps happened quite easily. Wednesday after class he pretended to study near the football pitch, then tagged along behind Alice and her friends to a plain-looking room where the club met. He looked exactly like any other fresher trailing harmlessly behind a girl he fancies but can't quite manage to speak to.

At the club he sat not behind her, but back and to the side. Perfect. She set her gym back behind her and faced the blackboard as the club president began the meeting. Alice rapidly began to doze. This wasn't a club she actually enjoyed, evidently, just one she attended as a resume booster, just like Quentin's alleged guidance as a prefect.

It was simple grabbing her hairbrush from an outside pocket and tucking it into his own bag. He thought of taking the hair from it and returning it, but guessed it would be riskier. You don't want to be caught hiding evidence of the crime when you could have got away with it. Besides, she'd just think it was lost. People lost hairbrushes all the time.

The rest of the meeting wasn't that bad. Reg thought he might even come back. The other students were welcoming, and when he didn't grasp a point in the discussion (he didn't understand very many points of arithmancy, it turned out) they were glad to help out, and pleased at his interest.

It was only afterwards, as he turned down the hallway, that Alice grabbed his elbow.

"What the fuck, kid?"

"I... I'm sorry?" stammered Reg.

"You stole my hairbrush?"

"I... Im sorry?" he repeated

"WHY?"

"I... Q... The older boys..."

"On a dare?"

Reg realized he had an out.

"I didn't want to! They said I'd be a pussy if I didn't!"

"You just got caught by a girl. Are you a pussy?"
"No! … I tried, right?"

"You want me to reassure you that you're not a pussy? While I'm threatening to kick your ass?"
"No, I just... "

"You just want me to let you go. Preferably with proof you stole my hairbrush. To fulfill some dare your stupid seniors want and oh lord this is why I will NEVER date another high school boy. HERE."

She pulled a knot of hair from the brush, thrusting it at him.

"You've got guts, at least. But here, a clump of my hair to prove you talked to me or fucked me or whatever they want to make you do to test your courage. You boys couldn't find your ass with both hands, but let me tell you this: you owe me for this."

She stormed off, muttering something about how the girls' dorm was far more civilized, and leaving Reg confused and holding a small clump of knotted hair.

REGINALD: Got it.

QUENTIN: Got what?

REGINALD: You know.

QUENTIN: Oh! Sweet! Bring it on Friday. You know when and where.

Friday at midnight, the boys returned to Marie's lounge. Reg expected there would be a repeat of the prior week's performance, which was fine by him – even if the other boys were there, wanking in time with a magical woman was the sexiest thing he'd ever done. The drinks and smoking and general camaraderie were great, but to be honest, he was in it for the magical pornography.

This night, however, was different. Marie was there, as were the residents of the other erotic paintings. And there was still a smell of firewood, forbidden spices, and stale beer. But there was a cauldron in the middle of the rug where Reg had starred last week, already half-filled with a brownish liquid. It wasn't large, perhaps a liter. But it was definitely a cauldron. One of the same cauldrons they used in potions class – a row of small beakers in a rack attached to one side, a set of ladles and a set of lead, silver, and gold stirring rods on the other. The potion didn't smell enticing at all, not like the way the room had smelled when Reg first entered it. It smelled like sweat.

Marie greeted the boys effusively, and asked Quentin if everything was ready.

"It is!"

"Let's see it!"

From within his blazer, Quentin brought out a spice jar with a gray powder in it, opened it, held it up to the painting for inspection, then set it on a small side table.

"Good" said Marie. Don't put it in the cauldron yet. Set it in the mortar for now. What else have you brought me?"

Quentin looked at Reg. Reg hadn't taken Alice's hair from the breast pocket of his coat since the altercation at the Arithmancy club. He brought it out now, and following Quentin's lead, held it up for Marie's inspection.

"Good. Hair's the smart choice. That's the easiest way, and why go the hard way if there's a shortcut? Good. Now, add it to the mortar with the boomslang, and crush it all together."

Reg put the knotted bit of hair in the bowl, and Quentin took up the pestle and combined them.

"And put that on into the cauldron and stir it with the lead bar."

As they did, the liter of liquid expanded, then contracted, then shone like a beacon, then emitted a puff of smoke that stung Reg's nose and eyes.

When the smoke cleared, the boys saw that their cauldron contained a a glowing liquid, not quite white, and not quite silver. It looked uncannily like semen, although Reg didn't quite want to say that.

Marie glowed approvingly. "It's ready. You can put it in the bottles now."

Quentin and Aiden poured the liquid into the bottles, stopping them up with corks and placing them carefully in a rack on the sideboard.

Once the potion was entirely bottled, Quentin signaled and two boys came forward to bring the cart off to the side.

"Now." Said Marie. "Now, we truly begin your lessons. Which of you beautiful young boys will come forward to be my volunteer?"

A worry at the back of Reg's mind became more pronounced. He should have known all along that this wasn't about getting liquor. It was far easier to get someone's older brother to buy a bottle. No, this was like last week's meeting, only far more real: Someone was going to wind up turning into Alice for the evening. And Alice was going to be on display in the flesh.

Quentin pressed his hand against Reg's shoulder. "Our new boy will be the volunteer. He chose our subject, and he went and got the hair."

Reg stammered and blushed and shook his head, but he couldn't exactly deny it. Quentin had told him to pick the girl he thought was hottest, the one he most wanted to see without her clothes. And Quentin was both his prefect and the one orchestrating this club.

Quentin whispered in his ear, softly, "OK Reg. Time to prove we can trust you." The older boy's breath on his ear created a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach. This was very wrong, and very thrilling. "Step up and do as Marie says."

Two steps were all it tok to put him in on the rug at the center of a semicircle of nervous boys, directly before Marie's portrait, where she looked out at him with undisguised excitement and an almost predatory leer.

"You're going to love this, dear. It's been so long since I've been able to do it myself and I miss it so dearly. Let's have you strip off now."

Reg hesitated, but Marie's friendly smile, and the fact that she dropped her shawl to bare her breasts as he took off his shirt, helped him along.

"Look only at me, now." She put one finger into her mouth, sucking on it lasciviously while staring at Reg's slim, naked body. He felt a tingling warmth, and the anxiety of being naked in front of a dozen clothed club members began to fade. She slid the finger out of her mouth and around her lips, then sighed, leaning forward and pressing her breasts up toward the edge of the picture. It was undeniably hypnotic. Several of the boys in the semicircle were holding their hands in front of their trousers, both to hide and to quietly encourage their erections, but Reg was on full display, the tip of his cock glistening.

At a nod from Marie, Quentin came forward with one of the bottles, uncorked it, and handed it to Reg.

"Now, drink."

The potion was thick, with a taste that wasn't quite pleasant but didn't seem as bad as he'd feared it would be either, a clinging flavor that was only slightly bitter. It went down easily enough, at least, and as he poured it back he could already feel it starting to take hold.

Quentin took the bottle back from him before it fell to the ground.

It began with a tickling sensation at his head, as his hair suddenly brushed his shoulders. He looked at Marie, confused.

"You used hair, it starts with hair."

He looked down. The floor seemed further away. Had he gotten taller? His already modest penis had shrunk, while its sparse covering of hair thickened. His hips swelled. And he was growing breasts. Without even thinking, he reached up and caressed them. They were soft to the touch, firm in a way he could hardly have described to someone else, and when he pressed them gently a swell of pleasure grew in his belly.

His still-hard cock kept shrinking, but kept every bit of sensation and then some as it tucked itself away in a newly formed slit, which he knew without touching was already soaking wet. When Marie had encouraged him to take off his clothes, he hadn't thought about covering himself, but now he was overwhelmed by the urge to clap his hands over his crotch. As he did so, his breasts moved and he realized he'd have to cover them too.

Before speaking, he knew what his voice would be like.

"Oh god. It worked. I'm her."

"Only for a few hours," Marie reassured him. "Long enough to enjoy it, but you'll be back to yourself by morning."

Enjoy. He knew what that meant.

"So, now I do the show?"

Quentin touched his shoulder now, but it felt different from the friendly clap on the back he'd gotten before. And when he turned to meet his prefect's eyes, they glistened strangely.

"Come sit over here with me."

Reg was naked and unsteady on Alice's legs, but with Quentin steering her by the elbow they came over to a small daybed and sat down. They were still in clear view of Marie's painting, and the mass of boys, now decidedly and unashamedly erect, made sure to keep a clear sightline for her.

Reg wasn't sure what to do, but Marie coaxed him along."Go ahead and touch those new breasts. Show us how it feels!" He rubbed them, lifting them up to show the boys and leaning forward, then, as she had the other night, reached between his legs and touched his lips softly to test them. He'd seen pictures but hadn't ever touched a pussy before, and although this wasn't how he'd imagined doing it, he had to admit it was hot. His labia parted easily, and he flinched as he touched his clitoris too hard, leaning back and pulling his legs together.

"Oh no, dear. Keep your legs open. Share that lovely pussy with us."

He opened his legs and tried again, more softly, feeling about for his opening, finding it, wriggling one finger inside, gasping, closing his eyes. He opened them at the sound of zippers coming open. He hadn't really looked at the other boys last time – he was too focused on Marie. Now they were pointing at him, some larger, some smaller. Quentin was beside him on the couch, and his cock was much larger, and much closer.

Marie cooed at him. "All right now, dear, give us a show. You remember how I did it – round and round up top..."

He circled a finger tentatively around his clit, finding the slick sensation on his fingers almost as exciting as the thrill that arced from the contact, all the sensitivity of his cock and more, concentrated in one spot.

His left hand caressed a breast, pinched a nipple, then found its way below the right as he probed the wetness spreading around his slit. His middle finger found his vaginal opening, and he moaned. The voice seemed alien to him, as though it was coming from far away. He briefly wondered how often Alice did this. It felt amazing.

He heard the other boys in the room begin to masturbate in earnest, and he picked up speed with his own hands, and then he heard nothing but his ragged breath and the pulse in his ears.

Unlike when he was a boy, he didn't feel any less desire after the orgasm. He wanted more. He looked at Quenin slackly, his lips wet and his legs weak. Quentin smiled.

"Did you like that, Alice?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Now give us a kiss."

Reg pulled his hand from between his legs in confusion. The boys hadn't come at the same time he did. The show wasn't over. Quentin leaned closer.

His first kiss, then, was while transformed into someone else. Was it even his kiss? Quentin's face was rough with adolescent stubble, and it chafed against Alice's lips as he leaned in harder, reaching in with his tongue. It felt slimy and strange but the desire surged within him, almost shaky. Quentin's hand slid up his thigh and he let it, gasped as the older boy thrust a finger inside him, then slid it back out and rubbed it slickly around and across his clit. He couldn't kiss Quentin anymore, just open his mouth and moan as the shaking took hold of him and he came again.

He kissed Reg again, then pressed against the back of his neck, moving him downward. Reg knew what this meant, and pulled away briefly.

"I made you feel good, didn't I? Now it's your turn to do it for me."

Reluctantly, he looked down at Quentin's erection, the glistening tip reaching out from the foreskin, a droplet of pre-cum paused at the very opening. He couldn't look away, and this time let Quentin guide his head downward until it was at his mouth.

"Kiss it for me. That's a girl. Does it taste good?"

Reg had tasted his own pre-cum before and Quentin's was no different – sweet, salty, pleasant. He licked it.

"Say it."

"It's good."

"Go ahead. It'll go on into that sweet mouth of yours. Suck on it."

He put it as far into his mouth as he could, trying not to let his teeth touch, and Quentin bucked forward, gagging him. The position was awkward, leaning over to one side, and Quentin nudged him to the front, where he knelt.

"Why don't you get in front of me. There you go. Use your hands on the base and... yeah. Like that."

Reg was getting the hang of it. His ass was facing away from Quentin, and toward the rest of the watching club, who were slowly masturbating. He wondered if he was expected to suck them all or if blowing Quentin was the show and they'd all masturbate for him as they had done for Marie. But the thought rapidly faded from his awareness as he focused on Quentin's cock in his mouth, trying to fit it as far in as he could, then working up a rhythm with his hands and his tongue. He took one hand from Quentin and slid it between his own legs, trying to match the cadence of the cock in his mouth and a finger on his clit.

With no warning, Quentin came in his mouth and come spilled past his lips and across his chin. It tasted bitter, like he expected it would, but he was so close to coming himself he hardly minded. He glanced up and saw his face in a mirror – Alice's face, spattered with semen. His toes curled and he pressed his face into Quentin's crotch as another orgasm swept him. If he could keep doing this, the flavor was fine.

Quentin stood and poured himself a drink as Reg caught his breath on the carpet, and the other boys surrounded him. Aiden was closest, then Thomas, then a number of boys whose names he didn't recall. Aiden helped him up from the floor with one hand, but cupped his ass with another, and Reg began to realize what was coming. He felt adrift in some sort of internal ocean of desire, waves rolling over him and tossing him about. He liked it, he realized, but that was hardly the point: he was definitely in the grip of forces far more powerful than he was, and even if he didn't like it, this was going to happen.

Hands reached out to him from all sides. At least two different boys groped his breasts inexpertly, and one stabbed at his pussy. He jerked back and Aiden clucked at the over-eager crowd. They backed off slightly. They were still standing by the couch, and Reg began to kneel to suck him off, but Aiden asked him to get on all fours on the couch itself, then got behind him. Oh god.

He was going to get fucked.

Aiden was gentle at first, holding his girlish hips and pushing a finger into him slowly, building up to a faster tempo, slowing down and adding a second. Reg began to moan as a now-familiar feeling built slowly inside him. Then the fingers disappeared and Reg felt Aiden's cock against him. It slid in slowly with a rush of heat, and as Aiden began to move faster Reg began to moan again, then squeal. He closed his eyes and let the feeling take him.

Something brushed against his face, sticky and sweet against his lips. He knew it was a cock. Thomas, probably. He wasn't quite sure. He didn't quite care, either, and took it into his mouth. He couldn't do much with it, but let Aiden's thrusts against him handle the work of sucking it off. It poked at the back of his throat a little, like Quentin's had, but Reg found it didn't bother him as much. Thomas pulled it back and began to masturbate furiously.

"Open your mouth, Alice. I wanna give you my come."

Reg opened his mouth.

"Taste it!"

It spattered on his tongue and nose and cheeks, hot and bitter, and he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror as Thomas moved away, Alice getting fucked from behind, her tits bouncing in time with the thrusts. Aiden's cock was pushing against something inside him, and he felt an orgasm building again. He pushed back, squeezing, and Aiden caressed his ass, sliding a finger into his crack and down toward his asshole. He moaned loudly.

Aiden laughed. "Oh, she likes it, boys."