Bath of Artemis

Chapter 1
Complete Story

---

Chapter Description: A story for the TSA List Christmas story exchange.

---

Bruce could hardly believe it -- his application to participate in a summer field project had been approved. What made the adventure even better was he’d be staying on a remote Aegean Island.

"Your lucky, Mr. Leach," his faculty advisor told him. "We hardly ever approve substitutes, but our first choice for this project, Arthur Winkling, fell through a skylight over in the behavioral studies building after a juvenile hypnosis prank backfired, so we’re send you."

"It’s not as if this project doesn’t have some merit," the professor went on. "Some of the remoter Greek Islands are like living time capsules. I particularly approve of the Spaknos Island project. No phones, no electricity -- little or no contact with most of the outside world. It’s almost perfect. Most of the inhabitants don’t even know what country they belong to. It says here in a field report made 15 years ago that nine of 10 inhabitants surveyed weren’t even aware of the Second World War. Spaknos is out of the regular shipping lanes and has not air routes even close to it. You’ll be stepping back into another century. How’s your Greek?"

"Excellent," Bruce answered. "Not only modern Greek by classical Greek and Latin as well."

"Fine, fine," his professor said, not really listening.

Bruce on the other hand was ecstatic. Not only would he be out of town and the country for six glorious weeks on a remote Grecian Island, he was being given the opportunity to wind down after on of the worst semesters of his academic life. He sometimes despaired of ever reaching his goal of a professorship in Sociology. A successful summer research project involving "virgin" territory, so to speak, might help cement his chances of being accepted into the doctoral program.

SPAKNOS

Two weeks later, Bruce found himself on the deck of a small fishing boat bobbing up and down off the coast of a island the fishermen promised was Spaknos.

"Where’s the port?" he asked.

"No port, Spaknos," one of the men replied.

"How do I get ashore?" he added.

"At low tide, we land you on beach. You climb cliff. Village two kilometers from beach." was the answer.

As the fishermen tried to time the waves just right, Bruce reflected that it was no wonder that Spaknos remained a backwater. The waves threatened to crash the small boat against the rocks, but with a nautical deftness that was borne of generations of men sailing these waters, Bruce found himself safely on the narrow, rocky beach.

"You’ll be back for me in six weeks?" Bruce asked.

The mate of the boat nodded mutely, and wasting no more words, launched the boat and made his way through the surf back to the fishing trawler.

"I’m on my own," Bruce thought as he shouldered his pack and made his way inland.

The next couple of weeks flew by for Bruce. He was struck that the natives treated him with a bemused and benign neglect. Their dialect was quaint, a mixture of old Greek and a smattering of more modern Greek. Bruce was astonished to learn that the last real contact these people had had with the outside world occurred during the 13th century when a shipload of Knights Templers was wrecked off the Island. Once the knights realized there was no way off the island and that rescue was remote, they settled in for a stay.

Bruce had climbed to one of the highest points on the mountain where the remainder of the Knights had built a small replica of one of their Maltese fortresses. Bruce claimed the area as his own, since the island’s inhabitants had never seemed to have invented or heard of a hostelry. With his tent and lantern, Bruce was content.

As he lay under the stars toward the end of his fourth week, he looked down on the valley that dominated the center of the island. Even though countless generations of Spaknos natives had lived and died on this land, few ever ventured farther inland than a couple of kilometers. The islanders avoided most of the interior. Bruce tried to figure out where their reluctance stemmed from, but he had no luck. The best he was able to determine was from their references to angering the Lady of the Forest.

"Wow!" Bruce thought. "Some local taboo -- these people still fear forest spirits."

Bruce found himself imagining lost temples and buried treasures lying unclaimed in the interior. He decided that very day to take time and do some exploring off the beaten path. THE SHRINE

It’s funny how small a forest looks when you’re on top of a mountain, and how lost you can get when you’re tromping around in it. At least this was Bruce’s conclusion after he had stumbled around for over six hours after entering the valley. Bruce was so turned around he couldn’t tell north from south, nor east from west. And now it was getting dark

The best he could hope for was to find some temporary shelter and wait out the night. Bruce hoped that at dawn, he would be able to get his bearings and find his way back out of the valley. For the first time in his life, Bruce was totally on his own. No one knew where he was -- nor were they likely to come looking for him if he didn’t reappear. Bruce found the experience exhilarating.

As Bruce broke his was through the underbrush he came upon an indention in the cliff of the canyon wall. It wasn’t exactly a cave, because Bruce could see through to the other side. Thinking this spot was a good as any, Bruce put down his pack and explored.

Even though it was obvious that no one had been here in ages, Bruce was convinced that the chamber was, if not man-made, at least man enhanced. Holding up his lantern, Bruce could make out figures and symbols carved on the walls. He was struck by the looping patterns. They looked familiar, and he wracked his brain until a word formed -- "Mycenaean! By God! These are Mycenaeans."

Bruce was thunderstruck. He had found a small speck of the earliest Greek civilization -- the Bronze Age -- the age of Odysseus, Achilles, and Hector. The age of Hercules, Prometheus, Zeus, the Titans.

"I’m probably the first man to see this place in 4,000 years!" he exclaimed out loud, startled at the sound of his own voice as it echoed around the chamber.

Bruce continued across the rock chamber which opened up into an open-air grotto. The center of the open space was dominated by a circular pool of water. The water bubbled at the center and Bruce realized he was looking on a natural fountain.

"My God, the only thing missing are the nymphs and fauns!" he thought.

Pulling out his camera, he shot three full rolls of film, trying to capture every aspect of the grotto. As the light faded, he moved back inside and began re-examining the cavern carvings. it was only after Bruce had nearly finished documenting his find that the oddity that had been forming in the back of his mind came forward. Something was missing -- and what was missing was masculine.

Every human form depicted on the carvings was female. Bruce was no anthropologist, but he knew enough to recognize feminine symbology when he saw it.

"This must have been a goddess shrine," he decided after his examination of a large female figure surrounded by smaller figures all seemingly worshiping the large figure.

"Could be Hera, Athena, Artemis, Aphrodite, or any of the major or minor figures," Bruce thought.

"Heck, this place could even be older than Mycenaean, it could be Minoan," he decided. Darkness and his need to conserve his lantern, ended Bruce’s speculations for the night. He used the remaining daylight to gather firewood and set up a small camp within what he had come to refer to as the "shrine."

Bruce ate the travel food he had in his pack and, having nothing to do in the darkness, found himself drifting off to sleep. THE BATH OF ARTEMIS

Sometime during the night, he was never sure when, Bruce was awakened by the sound of splashing water. His fire had died down, but a light was emanating from the grotto. Slowly, cautiously, Bruce edged his way out toward the mouth of the cavern. The ground in front of the pool was covered with a large sheet or tent of some soft fabric. Something large had just gone under the water. Bruce could see the water churn and swell. However, he was not prepared for what resurfaced.

Literally, his mouth fell open as from out of the center of the pool a head slowly emerged. A human head. A female head.

Up, naked in the water she rose, her back to him. Even in the soft unnatural light of the grotto, Bruce could tell she was tall -- no, not tall, gigantic! Bruce was well over six foot tall, but just one look at this woman convinced him that if he stood side to side with her, he’d barely reach her midriff.

The Giantess continued her ablutions, singly a haunting song in an unknown tongue. As she turned, Bruce was struck dumb, the light that filled the grotto was emanating from the woman. It was as if she created an aura of radiance around her. Despite her size, she was obviously a young woman -- no more than 18 or 19 -- but molded in classic Greek beauty. Her breasts, as immense as they were -- were small and taut on her athletic body.

Her hair was as black as midnight. She moved across the pool with the swaying motion of a woman. Bruce found himself hard with a lust and passion for this giantess. She turned and sat on the edge of the pool. Her skin of her buttocks was flawless, and perfectly pear-shaped. Bruce estimated the woman to be at least 12 feet tall. As she washed herself, her naked ass moved back and forth, driving Bruce absolutely crazy. She stood and turned toward the cavern. Bruce could see her naked cleft was bereft of hair. As she turned, Bruce moved. His movement alerted her. She grabbed the material lying on the ground, which Bruce now recognized as her dress. Then she saw him.

Her face grew dark with anger -- an anger Bruce had never seen before in any human being. She shouted something at him. He didn’t recognized the words, but he knew a curse when he heard it. Putting her fingers to her lips, she whistled and Bruce heard the sound of baying hounds approaching. From the other side of the pool, materializing out of nowhere, six huge hounds -- all the size of horses -- padded forward and sat down at the feet of their mistress.

The giantess stooped and cupped water from the pool in her hand and threw it at Bruce, who found himself drenched head to foot. His clothing dissolved on his frame leaving him totally naked. Bruce was overcome by vertigo, and kept feeling himself needing to fall forward. His arms were growing longer and slimmer, while his hands and fingers grew small and black. the same process was happening to his legs. He felt his hips rearrange and he looked back over his shoulders, he saw a tail growing from the base of his spine. Fur was sprouting all over his body as he felt nose and mouth push forward into a muzzle.

"LOOK UPON ME, MORTAL!" the giantess shouted. "IT IS ARTEMIS, DAUGHTER OF ZEUS AND LETO, WHOSE BATH THOU HAST DEFILED. NO MAN MAY GAZE UPON MY NAKED FORM AND LIVE!"

Bruce stood before the goddess, trembling in fear, as he felt antlers growing from out of his forehead. He knew the legend of Actaeon and he knew he was doomed. He felt the beast’s mind rise up and overwhelm his human consciousness. He turned and bounded off into the cave and out into the valley.

At his back he could hear the baying of the hounds. His animals senses were much keener than a human’s, but Bruce was no longer thinking as a human would. All he knew was the terror of the chase as he attempted to flee. In back of him, he could hear the sounds of the hounds and in back of the hounds ran the goddess herself.

He never knew how far or how long he ran that night, but eventually, the stag found himself boxed in by the hounds and a valley wall. What little of Bruce was left knew that he didn’t stand a chance against the hounds of Artemis. Not only did they outweigh him individually, there were six of them, and the stag had no energy or room to run.

With a lunge, the first hound snapped at Bruce’s hind leg, breaking it in its jaws. The stag screamed in pain as another hound rushed forward and bit his chest, puncturing his lungs. Bruce instinctively lowered his antlers and struck at the hounds, but pain and loss of blood made him ineffective. Almost without effort, the pack leader gripped his jaws around Bruce’s neck and clamped down.

His windpipe crushed, bleeding profusely, Bruce consciousness dimmed as he saw the goddess emerge from the bush. In her hand was a bow, on her back, a quiver. She whistled the hounds off the carcass and put an arrow to her bow. Bruce could only lie there, his tongue lying out of his mouth on the ground, and await death from the arrow.

"STOP!" another voice -- a male voice -- shouted.

"NAY BROTHER," Artemis replied, never talking her eye, or arrow, off of Bruce’s form.

"YEA, SISTER, I BID THEE TO HOLD THY HAND. THIS MORTAL IS NOT OURS. TO SLAY HIM WOULD BREAK THE COVENANT, AND COULD FORCE US FROM OUR FINAL REFUGES IN THIS WORLD. SO AGAIN, SISTER, I BID THEE STOP!"

"WOULD THOU HAVE THY SISTER’S BATH DEFILED, BROTHER? BY RIGHT AND CUSTOM, HIS LIFE IS MINE," she demanded.

"AYE, VENGEANCE IS YOURS, BUT HE MUST BE ALLOWED TO LIVE OUT HIS ALLOTTED SPAN -- THAT WE CAN NO LONGER CHANGE."

"BUT NO MAN MAY SEE ARTEMIS AT HER BATH AND LIVE," she repeated.

"THEN THOU MUST FIND THE MEANS TO ASSUAGE YOUR MODESTY AND PUNISH HIS SIN WITHOUT THE COST OF HIS LIFE."

"VERY WELL," she answered in defeat.

The goddess stooped and picked up Bruce and carried his bleeding form back through the forest. Bruce was only barely conscious and roiled in pain with each step Artemis took. After what seemed like an eternity, Artemis returned to the grotto and carried Bruce’s bleeding stag form to the edge of the water. Bruce’s mind refused to focus -- between the pain of his wounds and the terror of the animal he had become, all reality seemed to stretch and remold himself.

Artemis had been huge before -- over 12 feet -- and now her size seemed to double again. Bruce felt tiny within her hands. She knelt at the edge of the water and holding Bruce within her hands, lowered his body into the water. Bruce half-expected the shock of the cold water, but to his surprise, the pool was as warm as a bath.

Holding his head in one hand, Artemis crooned a nameless tune and bathed his wounds which began to close and heal. The more water she poured, the faster he healed and, to his amazement, he was slowly returning to human form. Still as weak as a babe, he was laid on the ground and the goddess stood above him, slowly shrinking until she stood at 12 feet again.

"MORTAL, THOU SHOULDST BE DEAD AT MY FEET. BUT AS MY BROTHER, APOLLO, HAS REMINDED ME. WE OLYMPIANS NO LONGER HOLD SWAY OVER THE CHILDREN OF THE KING OF THE EAST. ALTHOUGH I MAY NOT KILL THEE, THE VIRGIN HUNTRESS WILL NOT TOLERATE A MAN’S GAZE UPON HER FORM.

WITH THE MOON AS MY SYMBOL, I CHARGE THAT THEE SHALL BY MY MOON BE RULED. AT THE NEXT FULL RISING, THOU SHALT JOIN MY CLAN. AND BY MY SIGN THOU SHALT BE RULED FOR THE REST OF THY MORTAL LIFE.

AND SO THAT NONE WILL NO OF ME, NOR DISTURB MY BATH, I LOCK THY TONGUE FOREVER. THOU SHALT NEVER IN WORD OR ACTION DISCLOSE THY MEETINGS WITH ME OR MY KIN. FULL KNOWLEDGE THOU SHALT RETAIN, BUT TO NEVER SHALL THY KNOWLEDGE LEAVE THY LIPS."

As Bruce lay paralyzed on the ground, Artemis chanted a song above him with her hands stretched out across his body. Finally, she dipped her hand once more into the pool and gently anointed Bruce’s naked form. Bruce felt his consciousness slip away and he knew no more.

Bruce opened his eyes and tried to figure out where he was. Then it all came back to him, the cave, the grotto, the pool ... and Artemis!

He sat straight up, but when he looked to the back of the cave, the entrance to the pool grotto was gone.

"It must be true," he thought. "I’m still buck naked and my clothes are all gone."

Yet when Bruce examined the wall that used to the be the entrance to the grotto, it appeared to the be nothing but solid rock. He shined his lantern up at the carving, but they were gone as well. The wall looked like any other cave wall, no sign of man at all. He remembered his camera, but when he opened his pack, the five rolls he had shot were gone. The only proof he had of his remarkable experience was the complete absence of his clothing, and surprisingly, two small bumps on his head -- sort of like antler stubs.

Bruce never knew how he did it, but inside of four hours, naked, cut and scratched over every part of his body, he emerged from the valley. He made his way back to the base camp and found his gear intact.

Somehow or another, Bruce made it through the remaining time on the island and, true to the their word, a boat from the fishing trawler was waiting to the pick him up at the end of his six weeks.

All the way back to the United States, Bruce was anxious and excited. How could he tell anyone about his encounter with Artemis? No that wasn’t true ... he could tell everybody that he had met Huntress, but who’d believe him?

When his plane touched down at the airport, his family and friends were there to meet him. Everyone wanted to hear about his adventures.

"Listen," Bruce said. "The most amazing thing happened to me!"

But when he tried to speak of Artemis, the words wouldn’t come out. Try as he would, all he was able to say about Spaknos was things about the scenery and the people he met there. That night at his home he remembered Artemis’ curse:

"I LOCK THY TONGUE FOREVER. THOU SHALT NEVER IN WORD OR ACTION DISCLOSE THY MEETINGS WITH ME OR MY KIN."

After that, Bruce gave up. Part of his mind convinced himself that his encounter with the goddess was just a dream.

THE CONSEQUENCES

Bruce’s life slowly eased its way back to normal. During the day, Bruce almost completely forgot about Spaknos, except when concentrating on his report. But as the moon began to wax full, Bruce felt an impending doom descending on him. Three days prior to the full moon, he broke out in the sweats. Perspiration soaked him day and night. He had no fever, and the doctors were at a loss as to his condition, but as he seemed to be all right, they sent him home.

Bruce sweated so much that his mother couldn’t keep him supplied in towels. He was reduced to wearing little more than his underwear, and that he was forced to change constantly. At the end of the first day, he also began to have prolonged bouts of urination.

Again, his doctor had no explanation, nor any medical advice. Other than these obvious problems, Bruce seemed fine. His first night with the sweats was hell, he either was up changing the sheets, or in the bathroom peeing a river. By dawn, Bruce was exhausted. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and as he bent over to look in the mirror, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d picked up a "bug" on Spaknos -- or was he experiencing more of Artemis’ mischief. The pissing and sweats continued all the next day. By the end of 48 hours, Bruce and his doctor were convinced he should be dehydrated, but he wasn’t. It was then that Bruce noticed something else was amiss.

"Doc," he asked. "Do I seem shorter to you?"

"Shorter," the doctor snorted. "Preposterous! People don’t shrink."

Bruce wasn’t as convinced. He waited until his brother Ed came in the room. Bruce always had his brother by three inches, yet as Bruce stood next to him, he was shocked to see that he was now shorter. Bruce marked his height against the wall and got a ruler, but instead of the six feet he’d had since his senior year in high school, he now barely reached 5’9".

A look in the mirror revealed something else, he not only looked shorter, but younger as well, no where near the 27 years he’d been alive. Throughout the day and next night, Bruce continued to shrink. By now his parents were frantic, Bruce had gone from six feet tall to 5’1" in a little more than 48 hours. His features had youthened and softened as well. He now look like one of his younger brothers -- no more than 15.

Bruce watch over the hours in dismay as his manhood went from varsity, to JV, to frosh, and now peewee league. His voice was changing as well. He found his voice cracking and breaking. His shoulder length hair gave him a girlish look with his reduced body. And still Bruce was unable to say anything to anyone about Artemis. It was just after dark on the third day of Bruce’s ordeal. He was clutching a pair of oversized shorts around his loins and looking at himself in the mirror. Steeling himself, he let go of the shorts and they dropped to the floor around his feet. He now stood at 4’6"and no more than 70 lbs. His penis was covered with a tiny patch of scraggly hair, his voice made the higher pitched tones of an adolescent boy. But there was more, his features didn’t look the same as they did when he really was about 13. He looked .... and then he saw the moon rise.

The lights in the house and all across the neighborhood went out. The brilliance of the moonlight filled his darkened room -- and Bruce began to change even more.

In the light of the moon he saw his hands grow longer and more delicate. He looked down and saw his legs grow slim and sleek. Then he felt as if every bone in his body was being pulled in a different direction. He grabbed his face and could feel his cheekbones rippling under the skin -- his nose shrink and assume another -- more pug-like shape.

He felt his skin pull and stretch tightly across his chest as the last remaining vestiges of his muscles faded away. With a loud click, he felt his pelvic bone snap into another, more wider shape, and he literally felt his center of gravity shift from his shoulders to his hips. He looked in his mirror and to his horror, he had the face and shape of a young girl. He looked as the male nipples assumed a different shape, changing color and size in a matter of moments. Slowly, fatty tissues formed around the base of his nipples and began to push out his breasts. It stopped after a few moments and Bruce discovered that he now possessed small, but unmistakable female breasts.

Then the worst happened.

Bruce doubled over in pain as he could feel his testicles being pulled back into his body. His penis, hard in his hand, began to shift under his fingers. He could feel the still part shrinking and moving back against his pelvic bone. The flaccid skin of his penis and scrotum shifted under his hands and at this point Bruce fainted.

When he awoke, it was morning and he was in his bed. His mother was seated in a chair next to him.

"Bruce, honey," she said. "How do you feel?"

"Momma, I’ve changed!" he said, feeling unbidden tears arising in his eyes.

"Yes, dear," I’m afraid you have. I was going to call the doctor, but he hasn’t been too much help up till now, and all your changes seemed to have stopped. Do you know what’s happened to you?"

"Yes," Bruce answered. "I think I’m a girl."

With that Bruce threw back the cover and looked down. There was no mistaking it or hiding the fact that in three short days, he’d gone from being an independent man of 27 to a female child of no more than 13.

With her mother’s help, Bruce stood and walked slowly to the mirror. She looked underfed, but Bruce could still see a little of himself inside the girl’s body.

"That’s what Artemis was talking about," he thought to himself.

".... NO MAN MAY SEE ARTEMIS AT HER BATH AND LIVE. THEE SHALL BY MY MOON BE RULED. AT THE NEXT FULL RISING, THOU SHALT JOIN MY CLAN. AND BY MY SIGN THOU SHALT BE RULED FOR THE REST OF THY MORTAL LIFE."

"She couldn’t kill me but no man is allowed to see her naked. I guess this is what she came up with," Bruce concluded.

His mother had gone out of the room while Bruce looked at himself, and returned a few minutes later holding some clothes in her hands.

"These are your sister Judy’s. They might be a little big for you, but they’ll have to do until I can get you something of your own to wear. His mother handed him a pair of white panties and a small bra.

"I’m afraid you need more of a training bra than this thing. I’ll pick on up this afternoon," she said as she showed Bruce how to put it on. He sat back on the bed and stared at himself in bra and panties in disbelief.

"Look Bruce," his mother said. "I know inside that you’re an adult and a man, but your in an entirely different body now and girls, quite frankly, are different than boys. There are some things I’m going to have to teach you. Things that might not have made sense to you before, but are important for a female to know."

"Like keeping your legs together when you’re sitting," she said, slapping him lightly on the legs and drawing them together. She then handed Bruce a plain blouse and a pair of slacks. Before he put them on he went to the bathroom and closed the door. After a moment, he opened it and said, Hey, mom, how do girls ... you know."

"Here dear, let me show you," she said and joined him in the bathroom.

The next few hours were a blur to Bruce as he got a crash course in female behavior from his mother and three sisters. He sat on the front porch that evening, fidgeting with the straps of the bra that Artemis had condemned him to wear the rest of his life.

Bruce looked up at the moon, and for the first time, realized the power it had over women. His new body was different, but Bruce felt he’d get used to it. After sweating and peeing for three days, Bruce now found himself drinking glass after glass of water with no visible effect, other than a tightening of his clothes. He found his new body bent and stretched in ways that would have caused considerable pain to his former body.

He kept feeling a tickling sensation between his legs, but he forced himself to ignore it. He wasn’t in such a big hurry to go "exploring" down there. He remembered his life less than a few months ago, when he belonged to a transformation forum. He remembered all the stories about men turning into women. He even recalled with a blush his own secret wish to experience life on the "other side". And now, here he was: his entire former life gone beyond recall, unless he was willing to try and prove he was Bruce Leach in a little girl’s body.

"They’d probably lock me up in a lab somewhere and study and poke me. Fuck it! I’ll become somebody new. Having the family will help. I’ll be a cousin from out of town , come to live with my folks."

The tickling in his groin was driving him nuts, so he placed his fingers gently near his vagina. They came away sticky. Something was on them. Bruce got up and went toward the light. What he saw made him scream.

Twenty minutes later, his sister Judy had him in the bathroom explaining how to insert a tampon.

"Get used to it, big brother," she laughed. "You’ll be doing this every 28 days for the next 30 or so years, unless your pregnant."

"Pregnant?!?!" he thought. "Yes, now I COULD get pregnant. Wow, good thing Artemis is the goddess of childbirth, too. I expect she’ll look after me." Bruce’s mom and dad and most of his sisters and brothers we sitting on the porch when he and Judy rejoined them.

"We’ve been talking about it Bruce," his mother said. "We figure to pass you off as my sister’s girl."

Bruce nodded in agreement.

"You’ll have to go back to school again. I figure we’re just in time to get you enrolled in eighth grade. It might even be good for you to be around people -- girls -- your own age. You can learn from them how to be a girl. What do you think?"

Bruce was silent for a long time. Mulling the events of the summer over in his mind. He’d never be able to explain what had happened to him, so he might as well get on with his life. Nodding his head, Bruce said, "You’re right, mom. It’s a good plan."

"What shall we call you ... I mean we can’t call you Bruce anymore. Do you had the time to think of a name for yourself?"

His brothers and sisters began calling out a host of names that he could choose from, but Bruce shook his head.

"It just so happens that I have picked a name for myself," she said.

"What is it! Tell us," everyone shouted.

Bruce smiled and said, "Call me ....."

 

---