THE humour Zanzibar felt moments before vanished as soon as he stepped into the shower. Bathing made him even more aware of his transformation. Painfully so. As he lathered new terrain, he fought hard not to give in to despair.

Zanzibar had always been a charmer. A refined gentleman with a sense of style; he was charismatic, polished, with impeccable manners. And yet he maintained a degree of mystery; no-one knew him thoroughly. His roots, family, and personal history, other than the one he readily ascribed to the Syndicate, were undisclosed.  He coveted his privacy and had no intention of ever revealing his past. That, perhaps, was part of his appeal.

Ladies were drawn to him, although he had never found 'the one' to change his priorities, dampen his sense of adventure or, his duty, as he saw it. Until the bitch from Zoom came along, he thought bitterly, uninvited and with an entirely different agenda. 

He shook his head, droplets spraying from his hair as he tried to eliminate her from his thoughts. Not an easy task, considering.

The water ran over his back, hot, soothing, relieving him of the moment's agitation. With eyes closed, his mind floated back to life before December 6th. 

Yes, the odd tryst had occurred, and most pleasant they had been; sometimes, the magic he had worked was nothing to do with sorcery. The magician smiled. But, it had been easy then, he was a hot-blooded male through and through, he loved the fairer sex.

Suddenly finding himself as one though, was a whole new ballgame; one which he had no clue how to play. 

And BAM! The Sorceress invaded his thoughts again. 

His fist pounded the wall causing soap bubbles and water to spatter back onto his face. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cold tiles. His breathing was erratic, fuelled by rage. And fear.

Never had he felt the way he did now. Yes, he had encountered many a daunting and dangerous situation, frequently with his life in the balance. But that seemed child's play in comparison to what he now faced - and with it the ridicule, hatred, and xenophobia. 

But, there was nothing else for it; he had to make the best of things. And somehow, he would need to find the strength to push aside the other change which the Sorceress had instilled in him.  Fury. He knew it was an offshoot of the transformation, and yes, his anger was aimed at Zoom's psychopathic spell weaver. But aligned with all the other emotions he was going through, it could make for one deadly combination with his magical abilities. He would need to exercise control.

He realised now attempting to go it alone was folly. It still didn't alleviate his trepidation, but he would take Jim's advice and seek out Yarko. The sooner this ridiculous situation was resolved, the better, and who other than his fellow conjurer could help him to stay focused?

He finished showering. After quickly drying himself, he turned to the vanity and reached for his shaving soap, brush and razor. A glance in the mirror stopped him and a bitter smile graced the lips on his already clean-shaven face. Old habits it seems, he thought, woefully.  

Then he noted the sprigs of hair between his breasts. He scowled, but on closer inspection, he had to admit a hairy bosom was unsightly. Lifting his arms, he was faced with another shrubbery. He groaned, despair taking hold once more.

If the worst indeed presented itself, and he was permanently altered, then he would have to familiarise himself with a particular routine. Should he ever be captured, rendered unconscious, kidnapped or even arrested (which had embarrassingly happened in the past), his peculiar situation could be uncovered. To carry off this 'masquerade' successfully, he needed to ensure his hygiene regime was in-keeping with women of today. 

His mind drifted back once more and Zanzibar recalled one or two ladies whose company he had enjoyed in the boudoir. Yes, it seemed shaving was appropriate after all, just in different areas. 

Underarms wasn't too difficult, although it needed to be executed thoroughly. Shaving between breasts was a little more tricky. Gripped by an irrational fear of nicking his skin, he took extra care and with careful manipulation, the exercise was a success and thankfully, injury-free.

He studied his legs, and a deep sigh escaped him. The Sorceress had not considered all the finer details when she cast her spell; he was still relatively hirsute. Keeping in mind his reasoning for this exercise, he decided it was wise to rid his legs of the dark carpet. Minutes later, a few little red dots on the towel signified failure in completing the task without bloodshed.

Finally, the area. He looked down, forlorn. That was going to require a lot of shaving soap.

Jim knocked on the door. "You drowning in there?" he asked mirthfully.

Slightly irked, Zanzibar grit his teeth and held his annoyance in check. "Almost done."

"You better be, bud, 'cause you still got your clothing to consider."

Zanzibar groaned - a further dilemma. Then he thought of Marlene Dietrich and how she looked good in a tuxedo. All is not lost, he thought sarcastically. "Alright!" He sighed. "Give me a few minutes." 

He listened to make sure Jim had moved away from the door before his eyes rested once more on the wiry forest below.  He took a deep breath. "Okay, so I could maybe manage a good trim," he said, trying to rationalise sprucing up the intimate area. Scissors would be best, he decided. 

But he didn't keep those in the bathroom, and there was no way he was going back into the kitchen to locate scissors in the cutlery drawer - not with Jim hanging around. So that left the razor. 

A few minutes passed. Dark eyes flitted between mirror, razor and the area which needed trimming.

He lost his nerve. The shaving accessories were put back inside the cabinet along with his razor. "Not today," he said to his reflection. 

Once personal grooming was complete, he moved through to his bedroom. He took out clean underwear. The shorts would suffice for now, but to secure his newfound bosom, the vest needed replacing with a more feminine garment - the brassière. 

Staring at himself in the mirror, he once more cast his mind back to certain ladies and focused on images of said lingerie. Muttering incantations and performing an elaborate hand gesture the vest rode up, pinched in and plumped out. He stood in awe as his breasts lifted and separated before his eyes, entirely encased in white rayon satin.  All things considered, he was quietly satisfied with the result. 

Next, he took out a fresh shirt, waistcoat, pants and jacket. As the day before, he stood dwarfed in the tuxedo. More invocation employed and the suit cinched, tucked and shrank to the appropriate size. The effect was quite 'acceptable', even though the circumstances were not. 

He forgot his feet were considerably daintier, but the transformation of his shoes could wait until he was ready to leave. Finally, he fastened a bow tie in place to finish the ensemble.

Studying the image which looked back at him, Zanzibar heaved a sigh; this was about as good as things were going to get - for a while at least. He was pinning all his hopes on his friend and fellow associate, Yarko, to undo the Sorceress' curse.

"Okay," he muttered, trying to bolster himself. "Time for the verdict."

Jim looked up and wolf-whistled when Zanzibar walked into the living room. The magician glared at the young man. "I warn you now, Dynamo, if you do that again I will turn you into will-o-the-wisp."

Jim quietened immediately and cleared his throat, offering a mumbled apology.

The magician slipped on his shoes and with an azure bolt transformed them into a smart pair of kitten heels. He then reached for his fez.

"Um, could I offer a suggestion?" Jim asked tentatively.

"What!"

Pointing at the magician's attire, Jim spoke with care. "Well, you can certainly pass for a relative of yours, but keeping everything - as-was, well..."

"What do you mean 'as-was'? Look at me! My tuxedo is now befitting a woman's figure; my shoes are stylish, following fashion worn by ladies I am acquainted with. I even shaved..." He stopped, abrupt, and closed his eyes, wishing he hadn't mentioned that fact.

Jim laughed. "You shaved? What exactly?"

Zanzibar turned an aloof nose in the air, desperately hoping his friend would not pursue the subject. 

Thankfully, Jim obliged. "Okay, fine. But I think you could 'work it' a bit more."

"Since when did you become an expert?" Zanzibar was starting to lose patience.

"Listen, buddy; you're talking to a man who wears a red and yellow costume which, I confess, leaves very little to the imagination; but I know about looking the part!"

Zanzibar fell silent; a small huff escaping his lips. "Okay, what do you suggest?"

"Well, why not add some colour? Nothing rash, that's not your style, but spice it up a little."

Zanzibar nodded, and with a flick of his wrist, his waistcoat and bow tie became a rich, deep burgundy. The young Dynamo had a point; it looked good. 

"And um...your fez..." Jim noted a look of unforgiveness on the magician's face.  "Look, if you don't want people thinking you've just decided to be more feminine ..." 

The magician glowered again. 

Jim quickly continued, "All I'm saying is, why not change it to... a top hat, or better still, a fedora? Give your 'relative' her own unique trademark. Oh, and make the colour match your waistcoat."

The magician looked at his fez, a hint of reluctance in his eyes. A bolt of magic later, the hat was transformed, and Zanzibar put it on, angling it at a slight tilt.

Jim nodded approval. "Now, what are we going to call you?"

"I am still Zanzibar!" the magician announced, indignant.

"Yeah, and those who are in the know understand that, but what about the rest of the world?" 

"I'm starting to see you would have made the better woman here," Zanzibar growled.

"And what would you call me? Dynama? Dynamolina?" Jim was noticeably trying to suppress a grin.

Resigned to yet another irritating mote of wisdom from his friend, the magician finally succumbed to an initial objection. Gloomily he said, "Fair enough. Miss Zanzibar it is. Everyone assumes it is my first name; let's make them think otherwise." 

"Okay. Hey! You look good; very convincing. Now you don't have to worry about looking - peculiar - if you know what I mean. Talking of which, um, can you gimme my clothes back, now?"

The magician managed a pitiable smile and obliged. 

Then with a final flick of her magical fingers, Miss Zanzibar manifested a lit Chesterfield. She took a long drag of nicotine and attempted to exhale in as lady-like a fashion as she could muster. Nervous was one way to describe how she felt, but taking a deep breath, she forced a smile and put on a brave face.  "Ready?"