InsaneJournal

WHERE: Vallo Forest: Physical Kids' Cottage
WHEN: June 24th, 2021
WHAT: Margo tells Eliot to woman up. So he does.
WARNINGS: None
STATUS: Complete

Eliot had taken over the kitchen. Not with anything delicious, which would not have been out of the ordinary for him particularly without Josh around, but with a first aid kit. Magicians hands were delicate, fine tuned instruments. Sword fighting was less delicate and with the amount he was practicing and as hard as he was trying, his skin started to protest with blisters.

The first aid kit was set to the left of the sink and the water was running as cold as he could get the tap, looking for relief after his last practice with Fandral. Things had gotten mildly more professional between them, and friendlier as well. Eliot hid his discomfort and concern from his instructor until he could get home and feel a little more free to whine in the company of other magicians.

“Fuuuuck,” he hissed softly. He would be fine, but not before being a delicate, wilting flower about it. His hands looked and felt naked without all of his rings on them. They were set to the right of the sink.

Was he going to quit? No. Was he going to change anything? No. Would he eventually tend to his hands? Yes. Before complaining more and making sure he was in a space where he would get maximum attention and sympathy? Absolutely not. The cold tap water felt good on them, and he was not in the mood to remove them just yet.

“Whatcha crying about now?” Margo asked, catching the tail end of that cursing from Eliot as she swaned into the kitchen. She was dressed in a black catsuit, leather jacket, and heels, clearly ready for an evening out. Maze wanted to show off some new bondage gear she had gotten and Margo wanted to get tied up, so it was going to be a win all around that night.

She peeked around Eliot to look at what he was fixing up and gave a sympathetic wince at the sight of his blisters. Then she promptly moved to the fridge to get the handle of vodka she had chilling in the freezer and stuck it in the oversized handbag she had on her. “What have you been up to, Waugh? Jerking off trees?” She still had some time to get to her clit appointment so she didn’t mind spending it interrogating Eliot about his life.

“Oh Jesus,” Eliot said. Now he couldn’t get the image of sex with trees out of his head because of course he couldn’t. His eyes went a little wide and glazed over slightly thinking of the splinters. Margo was good for a distraction.

“Training with Fandral.” Every Thursday and Sunday. “Usually I wear gloves, and now I know why that’s basically requirement.”

But now Eliot couldn’t just whine about his hands. He had a captive audience, nevermind it looked like Margo was trying to leave to do other things. Sometimes Eliot just wanted the attention. Being a mild inconvenience was sometimes his very lame self esteem boost for the day. But if he couldn’t be high maintenance with Margo, who could he be high maintenance with?

“Honestly I can’t even tell if I’m getting better. Also, I think he might weigh way more than he looks. Is that an Asgardian thing? Are their bones like solid metal? Is he like Wolverine? It’s like sparring with a wall. It’s like a completely different weight class.”

But after complaining about that he was once again reminded of his hands and he hissed again before turning off the tap and fumbling with the first aid kit.

Most people had a good relationship with their brain to mouth filter. Not Margo. She laughed at it, so any thought she had, it normally tended to come out. She was getting better about holding her tongue when the situation called for it, but well, Eliot wasn’t dying at the moment, so the situation didn’t call for it. So tree fucking it was.

“Have you gotten under him yet? Quickest way to know if he weighs more than normal,” Margo explained, leaning onto the kitchen island to watch Eliot work. “I would have taken a run at him or Thor, but I’m not getting involved in that whole messy situation.” She was strictly around to mess around, no strings attached, and both of those giant aliens were messy as hell from the drama she’s been watching lately. Definitely not her cuppa.

So Maze it was. Margo never had to worry about her developing feelings, mostly because it seemed like she was hung up on someone else.

Eliot severely lacked Margo’s wisdom. While he was better about not going after anyone’s committed boyfriend these days, it was perhaps the mess of the situation had pulled him in like a moth to the flame.

“Hmm. I’m sure they’ll work it out. Not that I want to risk getting on Thor’s bad side, but also isn’t the risk of being called in as their occasional third worth it? It’s a sandwich that might kill me, but at least I would die happy.”

It was a high risk, high reward situation. There was also a chance that whatever the two Asgardians worked out that meant Eliot and Fandral would have to stop seeing each other entirely. For now at least he was getting free sword lessons.

After picking through the first aid kit, Eliot held up his hands and whined, “Will you please help me with this before you go?”

"Pft, he's not going to kill you. Have you met the man? Teddy bear. I'd be more afraid of him trying to wife you up, if anything," Margo snorted, as she leaned back from the island and hefted her bag onto the counter.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "You're a big baby, you know that, Waugh?" She took his hands in hers and was not impressed. "I've passed bigger period clots bigger than these blisters. Woman up, El."

She let go of his hands and dug through the first aid kit herself, looking for the antiseptic. It would be just like Eliot to get an infection from something so tiny.

“Yet another risk I will just have to take,” Eliot said with a shrug. He’d never had anyone attempt to wife him up before. He thought on it, but his mind drifted toward role play scenarios of playing house.

Eliot flinched as soon as Margo’s fingers even touched the bottle of antiseptic. Perhaps it was the talk of being wifed up, his utter agreement at Margo’s many colorful cock and pussy metaphors over the years, or just the fact that he agreed with her in general. Eliot only got three words out, “Bitch, I wish—” before he shuddered.

It was just a little shiver really.

The first thing Eliot noticed was that he had shrunk. He was flat footed, she was in heels, and suddenly they were very nearly eye level with one another. The floor itself seemed so close. From his normal height the floor was more like some distant horizon. His clothes no longer fit with tailored expertise but hung loose, the sleeves of his button up covered most of his hands. The shoes were the most laughably off.

Still looking down, Eliot said, “So I have tits.”

And that was when El heard her new voice. It was a fine voice, perhaps not especially feminine due to Eliot’s inflection, but being new to it, Eliot couldn’t help but think muppet.

“Okay, I didn’t even finish my wish. Did we do this or is this another Vallo thing?” El asked. He wasn’t especially alarmed. Being a goose had been alarming. This was severely interesting, but it would have been irresponsible, even by Eliot’s standards, not to know why first.

Margo dropped the antiseptic, along with her jaw, as she watched Eliot go from the very tall, very male version of himself to...a much prettier woman than she would have given him credit for. “Wow,” she said, slowly coming around so she could crowd him. Poking at his arm and peeking at his newly made cleavage, she was satisfied to see at least she was still a bit bigger than Eliot like this.

When she had her fill of staring at Eliot, she actually processed what he was asking. Her only response to the question was to shrug. “Beats me. You been fucking around with magic you don’t understand? Because I haven’t. Can’t speak for our roommates though, so maybe they did something? Otherwise, I’d put money on Vallo.” It was always Vallo, when all other options were exhausted.

Eliot groaned. This sounded like work. Ask their roommates then try and figure out what was going on with Vallo? At least Margo was borderline checking her out. It couldn’t have been that terrible. Eliot tried to follow Margo’s eyeline and gauge her impression.

“The new moon is tonight,” she complained. “I was supposed to restart the animagus ritual.” Margo was Eliot’s expert and guide on this place. Now she definitely couldn’t leave. At least not yet. Eliot bent down to pick up the dropped first aid supplies.

“Okay, let’s say it is Vallo,” Eliot set the antiseptic on the counter. “I’ve got tits now. I can Karen this up. Who do I go to to fix this? I figure I’ve got seven hours before this upcoming month is a wash, too.”

Vallo had covens. Maybe one of them would know what to do.

Margo didn’t have a lot of faith in Eliot’s Animagus adventures, but she was still being supportive, patting Eliot on the arm. “There, there, we’ll figure it out. And if we don’t, there’s alway next month?” It was said cheerfully as Margo could manage, before she dropped her hand and picked up the antiseptic again. “First thing’s first, let’s get those gross hands looked at. Then we’ll go interrogate Fen and Julia. If it’s not them, we’ll put a call out to Vallo general and see if one of the witches were fucking around.” Not that they always came forward when they were.

“Hey, it could be worse though? Could be a centaur right now.”

“They still have the largest dicks I’ve ever seen,” Eliot said, his expression wistful. Margo and Eliot’s careful observation of the centaurs on Fillory were the only bright spot in what was otherwise a terrible time. Eliot was glad he was secure enough in his masculinity to genderbend instead.

“Do I need a bra? Can I just use gaffer tape like they do on the red carpet? I sort of feel like I should show them off. Also I’m going to need to raid your closet. Also by ‘get my hands looked at’ you don’t mean the clinic, do you?” Eliot struck a few trial poses, trying to get Margo’s opinion on what worked.

“How long do you think it’ll take us to figure this out? I have a date tomorrow with Ambrose. His tag profile says ‘pan’ but also this might not be what he’s expecting,” Eliot asked.

Margo snapped her fingers in front of Eliot’s face, drawing his attention back to the here and now. “Snap out of it, Waugh. Centaurs aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. Have you tried to get their cum stains out of a black dress? It’s awful.” Even as she spoke, she worked on getting a rag doused with the antiseptic and none too gently grabbed Eliot’s closest hand. “Don’t cry,” she warned, before she pressed the rag to his hand.

And even as she heard Eliot’s little cries of pain, she started to speak. “I mean, you can try wearing my shit, but you’re like a foot taller than me still, so you’re going to have your whole ass hanging out of my dresses. Shorts might work? Jeans are out though. I can take you shopping, no problem. And I have no idea how long this might last, we still have no idea what caused it, so I would hold off on thinking of the future until we figure that part out,” she explained, as she pressed the rag to Eliot’s other hand.

Once the hands were cleaned, she started to get a healing ointment out of the kit and then little bandaids to help keep the cream on. “And I’m all the clinic you need, you big baby. These are just some callouses gone bad. Keep your hands clean and they won’t get infected.” She worked quickly and efficiently, wondering if she got Eliot squared away fast enough, that she could still try hitting up Maze’s place. She knew cancelling on the demon again because of another friend emergency was going to get her on Maze’s shitlist.

When she was completely done patching Eliot up, she leaned back on the stool she had been sitting on as she worked and spun one of her fingers in a circle. “Turn around again and let me see what you’re working with. You might be able to go braless since you’re not huge, but I would still invest in a bralette.”

Eliot stepped out of her shoes and gave Margo a little twirl. At the very least, she did not trip over her trousers which were way too long for her legs now.

“I have zero clothes for this. I suppose I could wear one of my dress shirts as a dress with a belt, roll up the sleeves, but that is so boho. I don’t think I can go out in public and do boho, Bambi. Not even to just get proper attire.”

Eliot tried to look behind herself, over the shoulder, “Lady me doesn’t do her squats. Or they’re just drowning in these pants.” Eliot sighed, dramatically, and then gave Margo a once over. Mournfully Eliot said, “You can go, I’ll figure this out.”

Margo looked too good to cancel whatever it was her plans were. But Eliot would pout about it. It seemed only fair, now that her stinging fingers were free from infection.

“Oh shut up and don’t be a martyr about this,” Margo said, rolling her eyes and giving Eliot a look to take his current form in a way that wasn’t to judge or compare, but to analyze. “I can probably get you in a skirt. It shouldn’t look too ridiculous on you and I have enough shirts that you can wear loose that it won’t look too out of place. You might be boho chic, but at least you can work it until we get something to your tastes. Let me just take care of my plans and we can head out, yeah? You should throw up something on the network so we can see if anyone else has been hit.”

This was, actually, the response Eliot actually wanted and she put a hand over her heart in a gesture of gratitude, only slightly reminded of the pain of her hands. “I love you so much right now. Okay, I’ll make a post on the network. And I’m sure whoever you’re letting down with that outfit will only cry for two, three hours tops.”