Contrariwise,
If it was so, it might be;
and if it were so, it would be;
but as it isn't it ain't.
That's logic.
-- Lewis Carroll
 

 "I don't think we can afford to skip anything. This thing's so convoluted it would make a con artist dizzy." Josette brushed an errant strand of hair from her face and tried to get more comfortable on the floor of her apartment. "And please stop breathing on me. You have doggy breathe."

 "Now how could that be? Maybe it's because I seem to have a tail and a strong urge to chew on a bone?"

 "Talking about bones, are you hungry?" Josette got up. The dog pranced along with her as she walked over to the refrigerator to check out dinner options.

 "Woof. Who are you, old Mother Hubbard?"

 "I was a single male bachelor who ate out a lot, and watch the sarcasm, it's getting a little thick." She glared down at the poodle, hands on her hips for a few moments before snorting in anger and grabbing a telephone directory off a nearby counter.

 "What are you going to do, call for a delivery?"

 "I was thinking pizza, how about you?" Pages flipped.

 "Do they have female delivery people?"

 "Not usually ... oh. Good point." The page flipping stopped for a moment as she thought furiously. "I guess I can have him leave it by the door and slide the money out to him."

 "That sounds reasonable." I wonder if dogs eat pizza? If we do, I'd like a small sausage and meatball." Sitting back he started scratching at the back of his neck.

 "Ahh. He's one I've used before." Noticing the scratching she continued, "Hey. Do I need to get you flea powder?"

 The dog shuddered. "Spare me. I'm just scratching an itch."

 "That's what I'm worrying about." But she laughed and started dialing. Her long nails tapped on the counter top as she waited for an answer.

 "Hel-loo." Her voice suddenly changed to a sexy, breathless whisper. (Oh no. It's a guy. I'm in trouble.)

 "Woof?" (What's wrong. Why did your voice change?) "Grrr, woof." (Why can't I speak?)

 "I'd like your cutest delivery boy to bring me two small pizzas, one just cheese and the other with sausage and meatballs. The address? Two eighty four Lincoln Park Drive, Noprthwest, Apartment 2C sweetie. Half an hour? Oooh, sounds dreamy. Remember, your cutest delivery boy. Bye-bye." She hung up the telephone and put her hands to her mouth in fear."

 "Oh my god. It's not going to work. Even by telephone I couldn't help myself. I wanted to jump through the phone and start rubbing up against him." Tears were flowing freely. "What are we going to do?"

 "Damned it I know. All I could do was growl and bark. It was humiliating."

 "I know. I know. So what are we going to do? After what just happened I can't call them back and cancel, I might make a date with the guy on the other end of the phone."

 "So what happens when you hear the man's voice as he tells you who he is or how much you owe?" Josette collapsed onto the couch with a groan and the poodle jumped onto it next to her and sat staring at her.

 "I know. You can do it. I'll hide in the bedroom so I can't hear him and when he comes you can shove an envelope with instructions and the money under the door with your nose."
 
 

"Master, is all well?" Colleen looked worriedly up at Richard while he rubbed his eyes. He also seemed a bit pale.

 "Yes, yes, of course. Are our next suplicants ready?"

 "Yes Master."

 "Well Colleen, tell us about our next contestants."

 "Certainly Master. Our next contestants are the people who run Clarke University. They make the rules. They hire and fire. They make the final decisions regarding important matters like which food service to contract and which grants to provide with matching funds. Let's have a big hand for our next contestants, come on down President Schrader and Vice President Quayle."

A group of bikini clad babes began escorting the two men to the throne. About half way there Richard's impatience got the best of him and the entire group lifted off the floor and floated rapidly forward to settle just before him.

 "Bow before our Lord and Master." Their guards forced them to their knees.

 "What's the ..." Richard gestured and their protests stopped mid-word.

 "You are here because you desire my intervention in your petty moral concerns. Speak or leave." The two men glanced uncertainly at each other and then President Schrader spoke.

 "We've discussed your amazing discovery with the Board and we are here to present you with a small token of the honor and respect it is clear that you have been undeservedly kept from all these years." He tapped Quayle who looked stared blankly back at him for a second.

 "Oh." He quickly reached inside his suit coat and started to pull something out. His escort instantly attacked and threw him to the floor. A blue velvet covered case fell to the floor only to be instantly covered by two more women. Schrader watched in shock before tentatively explaining. "I believe Dr. Quayle was about to hand me that case. Inside is the medalian of honor presented to those few who make it to prefessor emeritus. It was the Board's instruction and my proud duty to present that medalian and the accompanying appointment to the position of professor emeritus to you for your contribution the advancement of knowledge." He cleared his throat. Meanwhile the women of their escort had returned to their guard positions and Quayle slowly began to stand up and brush himself off.

 "With your elevation to this esteemed position we would expect you to concentrate on the development of further research into this amazing phenomenon." His gesture encompassed the entire room and he took a deep breath preparatory to continuing. Ricahrd yawned and gestured himself.

 "While your obeisance is fitting and pleasing your ulterior motives are transparent. The Professorship is accepted. The research is concluded. You may study my words as prepared in that self same manuscript you returned to me unopened just two weeks ago." Richard cocked his head as if listening.

 "Let's eliminate the excruciating pain of your prolonged attempts to force me to reconsider. I'll make it easy and we can jup directly to that point where you finally realize the futility of your pleas." He closed his eyes and put his head back as he wearily spoke.

"How dare I. You'll fire me. I'll never work in academia again. You'll have me arrested for misappropriation of college funds and equipment. Yadda-yadda-yadda. Have I missed anything? No? Good. Now let's get on with this." Richard peered briefly at the two men.

 "President Schrader. You've impressed me. I thought you to be a man in command. Someone who knew what he wanted and how to get it. Someone I was ready to offer the world, but as I examine you I find, not a man of power and command, but a sniveling weakling, afraid of people and a puppet of the Board. You're not fit to be a man. You're not even fit to be human." Richard actually sounded disappointed as he spoke.

 "And you Vice President Quayle. You present yourself as a caring, compassionate, educated man, but you're nothing but a sycophant, a sniveling, power groupie who's done little more than fawn over President Schrader and cover for his ineptitude. I wonder if you even have the wit to spell a simple word larger than four or five letters ... like the word 'potato.'"

 "Be what you are." Richard once more closed his eyes and slumped back into the throne. Colleen worriedly reached out to brush a loose strand of hair from his forehead. Inga too had been worshipfully watching him and almost imagined she saw the start of a tear. Uncomfortable with the thought that her Lord and Master might be unhappy she averted her eyes instead watching the two men being judged. The taller of the two, President Schrader, lofted into the air and his clothes disappeared. Next the hair on his pasty white chest fell off, each hair disappearing before it touched the floor. His bloated belly began shrinking and his skin became smooth, so smooth that Inga could no longer see any pours. In fact, the floating body didn't seem to have a navel either. Confused Inga's brow furrowed as she carefully scrutinized the floating body trying to understand the wisdom of her Lord.

 More changes continued. The body took on a more rigid, posed stance as it clearly became female. The hair on Schrader's head changed from grey-white to surprisingly coarse looking ash blonde and grew rapidly to shoulder length, but no hair was forming at the crotch. In fact, no genitals at all were evident.

 The changes seemed to be slowing down as lines formed at the wrists, ankles, shoulders, neck, waist, and crotch. Inga wondered if this would be the start of new clothes, jewelry, or maybe some type of bondage device, but the lines only exapnded longitudinally until each made a complete circle around a portion of the torso and stopped. The face though, that was the final answer. It became briefly less distinct and then reformed with perfectly painted makeup, but even the mouth and eyes were painted on.

 President Schrader had become the puppet he had been ... sort of. To be more accurate he had become a mannequin, and a female one at that. His transformation had fascinated Inga so much she had failed to attend to Vice President Quayle. He too had been changing. His head, arms and legs were gone and he was the most unusual color, chartreuse with blotches of orange and brown. A bright yellow blotch had formed about where the blue velvet medallian case had been. As she watched he lost still more of his body mass, becoming almost two dimensional. In a final blur he reformed into a tropical looking floral print minidress with spaghetti straps and floated on to the mannequin. The medallian case was now a bright yellow scarf that positioned itself jauntily about the mannequin's neck.

 "President Schrader, I know you're still aware inside that plaster and paint veneer. You can hear me too Mr. Quayle. Puppet and protector, mannequin and minidress, you shall stand immobile and mute before all who enter my offices. There was a small popping sound and then they were gone instantly reappearing beside the great oak and glass desk in the front lobby artfully posed to point reverently at the sign above it.

 Offices of Richard Boatman

 God
 
 

The bedroom was just as she'd imagined it would be, ruffled canopy bed, cluttered makeup table, closets full of clothes. Josette had already played with the radio until she found her usual classic rock station. There was no television and although she had stretched out on the bed, she wasn't sleepy. The manuscript was still on the floor in the living room and the only reading materials were some glamour magazines. Bored, Josette began to skim through one thinking maybe there would be some jokes or maybe an article spouting the psycho-babble usually passed off as advice in glitzy magazines like this one at which she could laugh.

The first article was about twelve ways to make your man happy in bed, a guaranteed laugh riot. Within seconds she was engrossed and oblivious to everything else.

 Twenty minutes later she had read the entire magazine, tried several of the makeup hints, and flawlessly redone her tear stained makeup. Her miniskirt and haltertop had been replaced with a low cut, lacy, black, crotchless teddy, garter belt, sheer silk stockings labeled "dark taupe," and four inch black pumps. After a minute or two of posing playfully for the full length mirror on the back of the bedroom door the need to have someone else admire her grew unbearably strong. With a shrug she opened the bedroom door and entered the living room to pose for Dean as she'd decided to call the poodle.

 Dean turned at the sound of the door opening. "What the hell are you ..." The words trailed off and his jaw dropped as she stepped into sight. "M ... Ma ... My god do you know what you look like? You're beautiful, absolutely stunning." Her tongue was hanging out, and not just because she was a dog.

 Suddenly her tongue snapped back into her mouth and she swallowed hard. "Get back into the bedroom. That pizza guy will be here any minute, or are you planning to proposition your first man?"

 Josette hesitated. Somehow the idea of sex with a man didn't seem so bad. In fact, as she stood there it began to feel more and more desirable. Desire became need and need became craving.

Dean watched the emotions dance across Josette's face with increasing worry. She started to growl and snarl. "You want to don't you. You want to seduce that pizza boy when he gets here. Well there's no way. I'm not spending even one more minute than I have to in this accursed canine body. Now get back in that room now!" She continued snarling as she advanced on Josette forcing her back. "Oh damn. I can smell the garlic. He'll be here any second." She lunged at Josette and Josette fell back into the bedroom fearful for her life. She kicked the door, slamming it shut in Dean's face.

 "Now stay there." She growled through the door. "I'll call you when you can come out." One last growl and then Josette could hear the padding of feet as she paced back to the living room and the front door.

 Frustrated and needy but afraid to leave the room Josette gazed out the window at the busy street below. Glancing up at the moon the fear became even more pronounced. The moon, the face in the full moon, it was Richard's face.