Heather's story part 9

Heather's story
By Varian Milagro


Chapter 9

Heather awoke Friday morning with Abigail draped over her body and cupping her boob. It was her new favorite way of waking up. She knew that the magic was changing her relationship with Abigail from strictly platonic to something more sexual, but it felt so wonderful that it was getting hard to care.

She’d never really been romantically involved with anyone before, but had always assumed that it would be with a guy. Like a lot of her friends, she’d dreamed about a large church wedding, walking down the aisle in a white gown, being given away by her father to a man that was just as handsome and godly. Like her mom, she’d cook for her husband, be dutiful, and raise his children with love and a healthy fear of God.

That was looking less and less likely with each passing day. Would it be that big of a deal if she shared her life with a woman instead of a man? More and more people thought that the church was wrong for condemning homosexuality. Were they right? How could something that felt so amazing and natural be wrong?

She thought about her dream. It had been more like a regular dream than the others she’d had recently, which she was convinced were actually repressed memories. The one last night had had that hazy, dreamy quality of her normal dreams. Had it been just that, a dream, or had it been some kind of out of body experience and she’d actually visited all of her victims? She hoped that it was the former.

What she really wanted at the moment was a cigarette. She was experiencing withdrawals again and a cigarette would really hit the spot. Unfortunately, they were on the nightstand behind her and she was trapped beneath Abigail. She could wake her up, but their bodies felt so nice together.

She reached behind her head and felt around, trying to locate her cigarettes by touch. She was about to give up when her finger brushed against cellophane. Stretching her body, she was able to get her fingernail on the edge of the pack and slide it closer. Long nails had their uses! She slipped her finger inside the opening of the pack and lifted it off the nightstand, realizing too late that the lighter had been sitting on top of the pack. Hearing it clatter on the nightstand and then land on the carpet with a faint thud made her want to curse.

Once she had the pack on the bed she fished out a cigarette with one hand, her other arm being trapped beneath Abigail. After placing the cigarette in her mouth she tried to figure out how she was going to get the lighter.

She had magic, maybe she could levitate the lighter off the floor or maybe she could turn one of her cigarettes into a lighter. Perhaps she could transform her unlit cigarette into a lit one. After several frustrating minutes of trying she gave up, unsure in the end if she lacked the proper magic or if she didn’t know how to use her magic properly.

What she needed was someone to get the lighter for her.

She concentrated on the link that she had with Kathleen. She couldn’t sense it. Maybe that meant that the link no longer existed or maybe it meant that Kathleen was out of range. Either way, it would be real embarrassing to have Abigail’s mom come into the room and see them snuggled together in sheer lingerie, her daughter’s hand cupping another girl’s breast.

Maybe she could get Mr. Whiskers to fetch it for her. He lay on the bed next to her body, down by her thigh, facing away from her. She strained, trying to reach him and just caught the tip of his tail. He leapt and spun simultaneously, attacking her hand as he landed. She let the magic slip out, wanting him to become the type of cat that would get her cigarettes and lighter for her.

He stopped attacking her hand, his body slowly relaxing. Starting at the tip of his tail a wave of flowed up his body, changing his hair from long, white and puffy to short, black and sleek, not stopping until it reached the tip of his nose. With the cessation of her magic her nipples sprang to attention, making Abigail’s hand on her breast feel even more amazing.

Mr. Whiskers slinked up the bed with his tail held high, running his body along hers. He propped himself up on her shoulder and stared into her eyes, their noses an inch apart.

“Get my lighter,” she whispered.

He rubbed the side of his face against hers and then leapt off the bed. A half minute later he returned with the lighter in his mouth. He dropped it into her hand and then curled up against her leg. She felt a sense of pride for solving her lighter problem, but she hadn’t meant to change his looks. Other than that she didn’t feel too bad about using magic on a cat. The bible said that man had dominion over the animals.

She lit her cigarette, took back to back drags, holding the the smoke in her lungs for several seconds, savoring the sensation of nicotine flowing through her body and easing its pain. Taking another drag she realized that she was really enjoying her cigarette and not just because it was vanquishing her withdrawals. It tasted good and felt nice in her lungs, which was nice. If she was going to smoke, she may as well enjoy it.

She looked at the cigarette in her hand and then at her new fingernails. They’d come in handy trying to grab her cigarettes. They were more than just pretty, they were useful, too. They made her fingers look longer and more slender. It was strange. Even though she’d never had long nails before they felt kind of natural. It was the same way with the earrings. She’d never worn earrings before, but now it was hard for her to imagine being seen without them.

Taking another drag, she thought back to smoking with Abigail. Damn that had been hot. She hated herself for introducing her best friend to smoking, but at the same time it would be wonderful if they both smoked. They did everything together; why not that too? Not that she envied Abigail the initial smoking experience. It was pretty rough going with the first few cigarettes; the gagging and the coughing, the taste, the sore throat and lungs. She’d been kind of fortunate that she’d acclimated to smoking with the help of her sister’s magic, not that she’d forgiven Bethany. That girl was going to pay.

The hand on her breast moved, giving it a gentle squeeze, making Heather moan.

“Good morning,” Abigail said in a voice that sounded half asleep.

“Morning,” Abigail said.

Abigail stretched her body and kissed Heather long and hard. “I want to wake up this way every morning.”

“So do I.” Heather took a puff and then offered her cigarette to Abigail. “Do you want to practice some more?”

“I’d rather you give me another one of your smoky kisses.”

“You should practice with a cigarette if you want to look like you know what you’re doing in front of your mom.”

“Fine.” Abigail sat up, took the cigarette, inhaled a small amount of smoke and then choked. “I like it more when we do it together.”

“You mean like this?” Heather took a drag and then leaned forward and blew her smoke into Abigail’s mouth.

“That’s so much nicer.” Abigail slid her hand beneath Heather’s nightgown, gently caressing her belly. “Do it again.”

“Why don’t you give me a smoky kiss?”

Abigail shot Heather a coy smile. “What’s the magic word?”

Heather pulled Abigail’s hand up over her breast. “Pretty please.”

Abigail took the cigarette. As she took a puff her eyes widened and then she spat out the smoke un-inhaled. “Oh my god! Your hair!”

“What’s wrong with it?” Heather’s hand flew to her head as all manner of fears shot through mind.

“It’s half purple.”

Heather jumped out of bed and then hurried over to Abigail’s vanity mirror. Mr. Whisker’s ran after her, hopped up onto the vanity chair and then on to her shoulder. In addition to wide streaks of purple, the rest of her hair was much darker, almost looking black. She noted that her new nails went well with her hair color. They alternated between black and purple, depending on how the light hit them.

Abigail crushed the cigarette in the ashtray. “How did your hair change? Did you use magic again?”

Heather froze, her reflection’s face losing its color as shame and guilt pummeled her. “I used a little magic on your cat.”

“My cat. That’s a good one.” Abigail said with a laugh. “What did you to him?”

“He’s black now.”

Abigail looked at Mr. Whiskers, frowning. “He’s always been black.” A look of realization spread across her face. “Oh, I get it. What color was he before?”

“White with long, fluffy hair.”

“Ah, that sounds so pretty.” Abigail headed toward the bathroom. “I’d still rather have a pug.”

Heather sat down on the bed. Mr. Whiskers sprinted to her and leapt onto her lap. She stroked him and he purred contentedly as she contemplated changing him back. Not that she’d ever liked his hair before; long white hair made him look too feminine. He looked more like a boy cat now. Was that why his hair had changed? Had it been some kind of subliminal wish fulfillment?

She was going to have to be a lot more careful when she used magic on Jimmy and Donna. She’d need to clear her mind and focus only on them being 18 and not let anything else stray into her thoughts or she might inadvertently change them as she’d changed Chloe and Mr Whiskers.

After her shower she borrowed a scarf from Abigail to hide her hair, hoping to avoid awkward conversations. She dressed in her usual ankle length house dress and declined Abigail’s offer to put makeup on her face.

While she’d worn makeup the night before, and Kirk had seemed to appreciate it, she didn’t want to make it a regular thing. It was bad enough that she had permanent eyeliner; she didn’t want to wear eye shadow and lipstick just to feel normal. She pitied women who “felt naked” without makeup and didn’t want to be one of them.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to use magic on Jimmy and Donna,” Heather said as she waited for Abigail to finish getting ready. “What if it goes wrong, like it did with Chloe?”

Abigail looked at Heather’s reflection in her vanity mirror. “You changed Chloe’s clothing, so what? She probably changed back into a hoodie once she got home.”

“I had another dream last night. I saw her in it. She was at a nightclub acting like a whore.” Heather’s face grew warm as she remembered seeing the things Chloe had done to that man’s penis.

“Oh.” Abigail chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment. “What else was in your dream?”

“I saw Kirk and Todd cuddling on the couch and…” Heather was too embarrassed to mention seeing Abigail’s parents being intimate in their bedroom. “There was Rebecca and some stripper at Newgrounds and the trucker I used magic on, except that he was a woman. Oh and Barbara was smoking in her backyard.”

“Barbara doesn’t smoke; she hates smokers. She says so everytime she sees my mom smoke.” Abigail brushed mascara onto her lashes. “It probably just a guilt dream. Every time I eat too much ice cream I end up dreaming that I’m totally fat and everyone is making fun of me.”

“I guess,” Heather said as she petted the cat absentmindedly.

Abigail turned in her chair, looking at Heather directly. “You could use magic on me.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Heather said, even though the idea excited her.

“Oh, come on. It’d be fun.” Abigail stood and then walked over to Heather. “Come on, let me be your Guinea pig.”

“No. I don’t want to use it frivolously. It was a mistake using it on Chloe and Mr Whiskers. It’s probably a mistake to use it on Jimmy and Donna, but I have to get them away from Bethany.”

When it came time to leave for their rendezvous with Heather’s siblings they had a hard time getting Mr Whiskers to stay put. When they shut him in the bedroom he wailed like he was being jabbed with hot pokers. Ever since she used magic on him he followed her like she had him on a leash, walking at her side, keeping pace with her, stopping when she stopped.

“Why don’t you take him with you?” Abigail said. “I mean it’s not like he’s going to stop crying once you’re gone.”

It occurred to Heather that one benefit of her magic altering everyone’s memory was that they didn’t get mad when she made a mess of things. Gordon didn’t care that his wife was now a smoker and Abigail didn’t care that Mr Whiskers acted less like a cat and more like an eager puppy, not that their ignorance diminished her guilt. She’d broken her best friend’s cat and it made her feel like crud.

They drove to the park separately since Heather was giving her car away. Mr. Whiskers rode with her, curled up in her lap. Jimmy and Donna were waiting for them when they arrived, sitting on a bench, several suitcases at their feet. The sun was out and the clouds were nowhere to be seen. The birds sang their songs of spring.

“Mr. Whiskers!” Donna said once Heather opened the car door. “I missed you!”

The cat looked up at Heather, expectantly. “Go ahead,” she said as she wondered how Donna knew him. While Abigail had visited their house plenty of times and joined the family for various activities, she didn’t recall the cat ever coming along. Mr. Whiskers leapt off her lap and then bounded into Donna’s outstretched arms.

“So, what is your great plan?” Jimmy wore his usual t-shirt and jeans.

“I want you two to take my car and drive somewhere far away,” Heather said. “I don’t want to know where you’re going. If I don’t know then Bethany can’t force it out of me.”

“What about school?” Donna had Mr. Whiskers in her arms and was scratching him under his chin. She wore a long skirt and a yellow blouse, her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, showing off the golden studs in her ears. “I’m supposed to be taking an algebra test in less than an hour.”

“Heather has a solution, but you’re going to have to trust her,” Abigail said as she took Mr Whiskers from Donna.

The cat wriggled in Abigail’s hands until she handed him to Heather where he immediately leapt up onto her shoulder and then laid down, his eyes fixed on Jimmy and Donna as if in anticipation.

“I want you to close your eyes and imagine what you think you’ll look like when you’re 18.” Heather found it much easier to use the magic this time. As it flowed from her hands and into her brother and sister she concentrated on them being 18 year olds. She wanted them to be confident. She wanted them to look out for each other, to keep each other safe, to care for one another. Waves of pleasure crashed through her.

They both aged and filled out before their eyes. Jimmy gaining muscle and two years while Donna developed curves and nearly four years. His hair shrank and styled itself into a faux hawk, while hers thickened into shiny waves of amber and styled itself. Donna’s nails lengthened and her eyebrows reshaped themselves into thin arches. Her face cleared up, pimples vanishing, leaving smooth, blemish free skin. Heather felt a pang of jealousy when Donna’s blouse pushed outward, giving her the biggest boobs in the family. Jimmy looked good, looking like he spent lots of time in the gym. He now had couple day’s growth of stubble on his chin and a new air of confidence about him that made Heather wish he wasn’t her brother.

“How old are you?” Heather asked. She struggled to keep her voice from cracking. Using the magic had once again done wondrous things to her body. It had also given her a brief bout of dizziness followed by a series of pinching sensations on both of her ears, starting on the lobes and then running along the outer edge of her ears.

“I should hope you know the answer to that since we all have the same birthday,” Donna said as she pulled a compact out of her purse and applied a fresh coat of lip gloss.

Heather hadn’t expected them to become triplets. She’d expected everyone to keep their birthdays, but all be 18. As she thought about it, her mother would have given birth three separate times in a single year which wasn’t physically possible. The magic must have made them fraternal triplets as a way to allow three siblings to all be born in the same year.

“Can I borrow your compact, Donna?” Heather used the compact’s mirror to check out her ears. They were riddled with holes. She then checked her face and was horrified. Her face hadn’t changed, but it now looked bland and in desperate need of some color. She felt naked.

“I love your nails; they go great with your hair,” Donna said. “Purple is a great color for you.”

Heather looked at her reflection again and noticed that some of her purple hair had worked its way out of the scarf. “I can explain the hair.”

“You don’t need to explain anything,” Donna said. “I think it looks nice.”

Abigail pestered Jimmy and Donna until they produced their driver’s licenses. Like their sister they’d both been driving for over two years. When she tried to give them the prepaid phone and the the money she’d pulled from her savings they took the phone, but refused the cash.

“That’s really nice of you, but we’ve have plenty of money,” Jimmy said.

“We’ve been saving up for over a year now,” Donna said as she hugged her sister. “I’m so excited to get started. It didn’t seem like it was ever going to happen.”

“Thanks for loaning us your car,” Jimmy said as he loaded suitcases in the trunk of the car. “You sure you don’t want to come along? It’s not too late.”

“She’s staying right here with me,” Abigail said as she placed her hand on Heather’s shoulder.

Heather started getting confused by the conversation. “How long have you been planning this trip?”

“Really?” Donna said. “I’ve only talked about it non stop for the last two years.”

“We’ve been planning on taking a road trip around the states for like ever,” Jimmy said. “It was supposed to be all three of us, but then you wimped out at the last minute.”

“Sorry about that,” Heather said, feeling herself start to relax. Having them think that the road trip was their idea was a surprising bonus. It simplified things. She wondered which reality Abigail remembered.

“If you change your mind, just call us.” Jimmy held up the prepaid phone. “Don’t know where we’ll be, since we don’t know where we’re going, but we can figure out some place to rendezvous.”

The words “call us” reminded Heather of Starshine’s words in her dream. “Call me,” she’d said, not that Heather knew what number to call. Bethany had snatched her business card away so quickly she hadn’t had time to look at it. Without knowing her last name she had no idea how to look up Starshine’s phone number.

Abigail slid her arm around Heather’s waist, holding her close as Jimmy and Donna entered the car.

“Do you remember their real age?” Heather asked Abigail as they watched them drive away.

“Yes, I also remember that until a couple days ago there was no plan for a road trip.”

“I wonder why you remember when they don’t.”

On the way back they stopped by Hava Java to pick up some mochas and scones for breakfast before heading on to Abigail’s house. Since Abigail was driving Heather had time to think. She decided that maybe using magic wasn’t that bad. Besides making her feel fantastic, she’d been able to save her brother and sister from Bethany’s schemes. Maybe magic had its good points.

As soon as they pulled into the driveway of Abigail’s house, Heather knew that Kathleen was home, the link to Abigail’s mother reestablishing itself. They found her in the dining room, sitting at the table, writing on a small pad of paper. Several shopping bags sat at her feet, one of which was from Henderson Uniform Supply.

“Good morning girls,” Kathleen said, looking up from her writing. “Are you hungry? Can I make you some breakfast?”

“No thanks, we got some scones while we were out.” Abigail set the Hava Java bag on the table. “I bought one for you.”

“You’re so thoughtful.” Kathleen smiled sweetly at her daughter as she removed a cigarette from her pack. “Would you care for a cigarette, Heather?”

Although Heather was still a little anxious about smoking in front of Abigail’s mom and she’d already had a cigarette that morning, the thought of smoking sounded great at the moment. “Yes, please.”

The girls sat at the table and Mr Whiskers sat at Heather’s feet. While Kathleen extracted a second from the pack, Heather picked up the lighter.

“Thank you,” Kathleen said once Heather had lit her cigarette.

Heather lit her own cigarette and then shot Abigail a look while motioning with her head toward Kathleen, trying to encourage her to ask for a cigarette.

Abigail pinched her mouth tight and widened her eyes, a clear signal to Heather that she didn’t want to be pressured.

Kathleen watched the girls communicate non-verbally as she took a puff, remembering how she used to be able to communicate with her best friend in a similar way in her youth. She let out a thick exhale and then said, “How did your dates go last night?”

“Fine, Mom,” Abigail said as she stared at her mother’s cigarette. With a slight tremble in her voice she said, “Can I have a cigarette, Mom?”

Kathleen tried to act nonchalant, but the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her joy. “Of course, angel.” She handed her daughter a cigarette and then lit it for her.

Abigail took a small drag and then held it in her mouth for a moment before trying to inhale. She coughed as soon as she breathed in. Her face turned bright red. “I’m still not used to it.”

“That’s okay. Rome wasn’t built in a day. You’re trying new things. That’s what’s important.” Kathleen watched her daughter attempt another inhale, only to see her choke again. “Go slow. You don’t want to make yourself sick.”

Heather felt Abigail’s pain; choking on cigarette smoke was a horrible experience. She took a puff and blew a cone of smoke toward the ceiling, glad she enjoyed smoking now. It was so much easier that way.

“Take baby steps and before you know it you’ll be smoking like Heather.”

Kathleen’s comment filled Heather with excitement and guilt, simultaneously.

Kathleen took another long drag, her cheeks hollowing as she drew in the smoke. ”Once we’re done here, I could use your help.”

Abigail blew out a ball of un-inhaled smoke. Once her mother had mentioned the possibility of getting sick she’d stopped trying to inhale.“What do you need us to do?”

“There are several boxes in the garage that need to go over to Barbara’s. She’s pricing everything for the yard sale this weekend. Don’t worry about the furniture or exercise equipment. I’ll have your father move those tonight. I’d also like you to sign up for a shift to cover the yard sale.”

“No problem, Mom.” She crushed out her half smoked cigarette in the ashtray. “We’ll do it right away.”

Heather felt a strange sense of panic at the thought of going outside, a mixture of unpreparedness, and nakedness. Remembering her reflection in Donna’s compact she tugged on Abigail’s arm and looked to the ceiling.

“On second thought, we’ll do it in a little while,” Abigail said.

“Alright, but please get the boxes to Barbara before your father gets home.”

Once the girls were upstairs Heather explained her dilemma. “I need to put on some make up. I feel really weird without any.”

“I wondered why you studied your face so long in Donna’s compact,” Abigail said. “Do you want to go with the same style as last night?”

“Yeah, I guess, but I’d like something a little darker.”

Abigail retrieved her laptop and then typed “Dark makeup” into Google Images. “Scroll through those photos and tell me what you like.”

Heather paged down several times, trying to find the look that was in her head. Without experience with makeup Heather didn’t have the vocabulary to explain the look. Some of the images on the screen were close, but weren’t quite right. As she was about to give up she remembered where she’d seen the look before.

Heather rummaged in her purse and then handed the photo of Constance Morningstar to Abigail. “Can you make me look like this? Not the tattoos, just the makeup.”

Abigail studied the photo, her brow furrowing for a moment before being replaced with a smile. “I’ll be right back.” After disappearing into her closet for a couple minutes she returned carrying a small box with the words “Halloween accessories” written on the side. “I don’t have anything to make your skin as white as the girl on the photo, but between my makeup and this Halloween makeup I should be able to get close with the rest.”

It took nearly an hour of trial and error before Abigail was prepared to let Heather look in the mirror. Even then she spent a couple minutes explaining that if she’d had the proper cosmetics she could’ve done a better job.

Heather stared at her reflection, transfixed by her image, her face a mixture of stark purples and blacks. Her lips, like her eyes were lined in heavy black, while the thick of her lips were coated in a dark purple. The base of her eyelids matched the dark shade of her lips and gradually grew to a lighter purple that matched her hair by time it reached her eyebrows. She felt truly beautiful.

“What do you think?” Heather asked Mr Whiskers. He’d spent the last thirty minutes curled up in her lap while Abigail had worked on her face. She held him up and he peered at her intently.

He let out a “meow” and then started purring.

She took it as a compliment.

The girls headed to the garage with Mr Whiskers following along. In addition to nearly a dozen boxes stacked in the garage, there was also a treadmill, a dinette set, and an old television marked to be sold in the neighborhood yard sale. The girls grabbed a box each and walked across the cul de sac to Barbara West’s house.

Barbara’s three car garage bustled with activity. A half dozen women were sorting items that were to be sold that weekend. Several long table held piles of books, clothing, household wares, and all manner of kitschy items. Among other things, Heather spotted a brown Furby, two pink flamingos, a wall clock in the shape of a cat, and a toilet seat cover with the face of Elvis painted on it.

The ladies sorted through the items, marking them with prices and last name of the seller. Heather recognized two of the women from the homeowner’s meeting at Abigail’s house on Wednesday. One was the twenty something blonde who’d been smoking with Kathleen. The other woman was in her fifties and rather heavyset.

“You can set those down over by the red bicycle,” Barbara said. “Is that it or do you have more?”

“There’s some more boxes of clothes and stuff,” Abigail said. “There’s also a TV and a treadmill, but my dad is going to bring those over tonight.”

Heather couldn’t help but notice the heavyset woman staring at her, making her feel self conscious about her makeup. She tried to ignore it, but when they dropped of the next round of boxes the woman was staring again. It was annoying. The makeup wasn’t her fault, it was Bethany’s doing. How dare that woman judge her. How would she like it if she were compelled to wear Goth makeup? It would serve her right.

Her magic grew in strength.

On their next trip they signed up for a shift on Saturday to run the yard sale.

The woman who'd been staring approached Heather. “Excuse me, but are you one of those Goths?”

Heather saw red. She struggled to hold the magic back.

“We’re not into labels, Mrs. Parker.” Abigail said as she stepped between Heather and her potential victim. “Why do you ask?”

“Patricia left a lot of her things behind when she moved away. I was going to sell it all in the yard sale, but then I thought that your friend might like some of it.”

“Oh my gosh, that’s so nice of you.”

Heather unclenched her jaw and relaxed her shoulders.

Mrs. Parker pulled a couple boxes out from the underneath one of the tables. “You’re welcome to as much of her things as you’d like. If there is anything you decide that you don’t want you can bring it back here and I’ll sell it in the yard sale. My daughter will be thrilled to find out that some of her old things went to one of the girls she used to babysit.”

“I’m going to take a break,” The blonde woman said as she exited the garage. She had a pack of cigarettes in her hand.

“Wait up, Tricia. I’ll join you,” Mrs. Parker said.

Barbara looked startled. “When did you start smoking, Joanne?”

“Very recently. I’d always heard that they were relaxing and I’ve been under so much stress lately.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Barbara grabbed her purse and followed the other two ladies out of the garage.

There were nearly as many boxes in Abigail’s garage once they’d finished transporting boxes between the two house, but now, instead of being labeled “2013 neighborhood sale”, they were labeled “Patricia’s old things”. It took them several more trips to move them up to Abigail’s room.

As they started to sort through the boxes Abigail selected some music on her phone. A moment later Newsboys started singing “God’s not dead”, giving Heather a case of the willies. She’d never liked Christian rock to begin with, but now it felt like something was crawling up the back of her spine as she listened to the lyrics. She did her best to ignore the sensation.

All but two of the boxes held clothes. One box was crammed with jewelry and hair accessories. In it were necklaces with ankhs, inverted crosses, pentagrams, and other occult symbols. There were earrings with spiders and skulls and a hair clip that looked like bat wings. Another box held all sorts shoes.

Heather was surprised that the sight of the pentagrams and inverted crosses didn’t bother her more. Last week such a sight would have had her running from the house screaming. She figured that she’d seen enough in the last week that she wasn’t going to let a bunch of jewelry scare her.

Abigail dug in a box filled with band t-shirts, almost all of which were black, and none of which she recognized. There were shirts for Evanescence, Marilyn Manson, Nine Inch Nails, Phobia, Rise Against, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Bikini Kill, and Megadeth. While Heather rifled through a box of skirts, Abigail googled some of the band names and discovered that while Patricia have dressed like a Goth her music tastes included punk, death metal, and grindcore.

“Wow, I totally remember Patricia wearing this,” Abigail said as she held up a t-shirt with a punk version of Snow White on the front. In addition to a few facial piercings, she had a sleeve tattoo and was holding a bottle of Jack Daniels. “Could you imagine me wearing this to dinner tonight?”

The shirt reminded Heather of Rebecca; she could picture her wearing something like that around town. She started digging through a box labeled, “Patricia's dresses”, hoping that it would distract her from imagining Abigail wearing the Snow White t-shirt, a pair of stilettos, heavy makeup, and nothing else.

“You remember Patricia, don’t you?” Abigail said. “She’s the one that took us to see ‘The Corpse Bride’ in Cheyenne.”

“Like I could forget. My mom was so mad when she found out. She thought that Patricia was an agent of the devil for taking me to see a PG movie.” Heather held up a black dress with a built-in corset. It looked like something a woman from victorian England might wear at a funeral. “I don’t want to wear any of this. I may be compelled to wear the makeup, but that doesn't mean I have to wear the clothes.”

“We should probably take it all back to Barbara’s.” Abigail set the t-shirt back in the boxe. “Well, we should start to get ready. Do you want to wear something similar to last night?

“I don’t want to go.” Heather scooted backward until she could lean against the bed. Mr. Whiskers hopped into her arms.

“But it’s Rita’s going away dinner. We can’t miss that.”

Heather sighed, knowing that Abigail was right. “I just don’t think I’m up for the comments. They’re going to attack me and I deserve it. I’ve attacked each of them about the sins of vanity and lustful temptation. I lectured them all about why they shouldn’t wear makeup, it was a tool of the enemy, praying on women’s vanity and men’s lust. I gave Rita an earful last year when she dyed her hair blonde. Now look at me. They’re going to call me a hypocrite and I deserve it.”

“Aw.” Abigail scooted over to Heather and gave her a hug. “You’re right, some of them may say something, but who cares.”

“I do. I shouldn’t, but I do.”

They fell silent for a moment, Newsboys were signing “We Believe” and Mr Whiskers lay purring on Heather’s lap. After a minute Abigail broke the silence.

“So, what else can you do with your magic?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, can you fly or stop time?”

“I don’t think so,” Heather said. “Bethany said that I had transformational magic.”

“Can you turn my car into a Mercedes?”

“I haven’t tried to change anything inanimate. I’ve only done people so far.”

Abigail picked up her phone. “Can you turn this into an iPhone? My dad bought me a droid again.”

“I’ll try.” Heather took a deep breath and then concentrated on changing Abigail’s phone. While she could feel the magic inside her, it wouldn’t come to the surface. After several attempts she gave up. “I think it only works on people.”

“Change something on me, then.”

“What?”

“You could put some pink streaks in my hair. It will draw attention away from yours if we both have colored hair.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Heather said as she sat down on Abigail’s bed.

“No it’s perfect. I really want to see what it feels like to have magic performed on me. Please?”

Heather looked away. If she spent another second looking into Abigail’s puppy dog eyes she’d change her mind. “Let’s go buy some hair color if you really want pink hair.”

“You’re no fun,” Abigail said as she grabbed the cigarettes off the nightstand. “I’m going to practice. You want one?”

“Let’s share one.”

“I like the sound of that.” Abigail held out a cigarette to Heather.

“You should practice lighting one.”

Abigail sat on the bed, lit the cigarette and then coughed. After a few seconds she tried another puff and coughed again. “I’m never going to get used to these things.”

Heather took the cigarette from her and then took a drag. “You’ll get used to it. Everyone does eventually.”

“You’re supposed to share,” Abigail said with a pout when Heather exhaled away from her.

Heather gave the cigarette back to Abigail. “No smokey kisses until you can inhale without coughing.”

“Ugh, that’s going to take forever.”

Heather slid closer to Abigail and then kissed her. “You can share with me while you’re practicing.”

“Okay.” A smile grew on Abigail’s face. She drew on the cigarette and then moved in for a kiss.

Heather held up a finger to her friend’s mouth. “You have to inhale first.”

Abigail rolled her eyes and then breathed in the smoke. Her eyes watered as she fought the urge to choke. Heather replaced her fingers with her lips. They kissed gently as the smoke flowed from Abigail’s lungs and into Heather’s.

“That get’s hotter every time we do it,” Abigail said as she watched the smoke flow out of Heather’s mouth.

“Then let’s do it again.”

Abigail took another drag, this time inhaling without prompting. Their kiss lacked the gentleness of the first one. They swapped the smoke several times over the next minute of passionate kissing.

“We’d better stop,” Heather said. Her breathing was quick and heart pounded in her chest. She felt like she’d just finished sprinting.

“I don’t think so.” Abigail shoved Heather backwards on the bed. “I’ve just gotten started with you.” She sucked on the cigarette as she climbed on top of Heather’s body.

“I’m going to lose control if we keep going,” Heather said just before Abigail silenced her with a kiss. The magic churned inside her body, making her feel like she was floating in lava.

“Good,” Abigail said once she broke the kiss. She pulled off her top and then started unbuttoning Heather’s dress.

Heather contemplated pushing Abigail off of her and then running for the door, but her eyes were riveted on Abigail’s breasts, looking so delectable in their pink cotton bra.

“That’s my girl,” Abigail said when she felt hands working on the clasp of her bra. She had Heather’s dress pulled down to her waist and was about to free her breasts too. Once she felt her breasts fall free she slid forward until they dangled in Heather’s face.

Heather latched onto Abigail’s breast like a starving infant. She alternated sucking and nibbling the taut nipple, feeling a sense of pride with each squeal she elicited from its owner. She kept her face buried in boob while Abigail let her hands roam over Heather’s body. They caressed, squeezed, explored and worshiped Heather’s body. The magic intermixed with the pleasure swirling through her body until she couldn’t tell which was which.

When Abigail’s hand reached her panty line Heather instinctively clenched her legs. Abigail reorientated her body on the bed, keeping her breasts within tongue reach of Heather’s mouth, until she faced opposite direction. One hand took up a frontal attack, trying to worm its way between Heather’s legs while the other slid around her legs and went for an assault on the rear.

Heather eventually gave in, her legs lacking the will to resist Abigail’s touch. She needed it too much. She buckled beneath her best friend as her pussy was assaulted with unknown pleasures. And Abigail hadn’t even touched it directly, only brushing against it through her drenched panties. She shrieked when Abigail found her clit. Her mind was blasted with sensory overload as her womanhood exploded, squirting into her panties and hitting Abigail with magic simultaneously.

She fought to control the magic as it left her body, trying to focus solely on Abigail’s hair turning pink like she’d requested earlier, but she was being pummeled with pleasures her body had never known before. She thrashed and screamed out her orgasm as Abigail did the same above her. Images flashed through her mind, pink hair, punk Snow White, Patricia’s clothes, smoky kisses. Unable to fully control her thoughts, she changed tactics and concentrated on Abigail remembering. She didn’t want her to be oblivious like her mom.

Abigail’s hair changed color as she’d requested, waves of pink intermixing with her natural honey blonde, but it also changed in style and length as well. The hair on the sides of her head shortened until it were less than an inch long while the hair on the top of her head reformed into a spiky pompadour.

The next two changes were felt instead of seen. First Abigail’s fingernails began to dig into Heather’s thigh as they grew an inch in length. On the heels of this she felt Abigail’s breasts swell in her hands, getting heavier with each heartbeat, her nipples pressing harder into Heather’s palms.

A knock on the door startled both of them, halting their screams, Heather’s magic and their hearts.

“Is everything alright in there?” Kathleen called from the other side of the bedroom door.

“Yeah, Mom. We were just having a tickle fight.”

“Hmm, I wish your father would tickle me like that sometime.”

As they waited for Kathleen to descend the stairs, Heather surveyed the damage her magic had caused. Other than the hair, nails and boobs, Abigail looked mostly the same. Her room had changed a little. There wasn’t nearly as much pink in the room and most of the stuffed animals were gone. The framed poster of a unicorn was replaced with a framed poster of the band, The Clash.

“I’m so sorry,” Heather said. “This is all my fault.” Her sins were mounting up by the second. Not satisfied with just introducing her best friend to smoking, she then uses magic on her while they’re having sex. So much for staying pure.

“I think that I had a hand involved, too,” Abigail said as she sniffed her fingers.

“I mean your hair and your room. I didn’t mean to use magic on you.”

Abigail reached up and touched her hair as she looked around her room. She hopped off the bed and ran to her vanity. “Holy shit!” She turned around slowly, her mouth open and her eyes wide, looking like she’d just been slapped.

“I can try and fix it.” Heather pulled her dress up over her chest.

“Fix it?” She advanced on Heather.

“Please don’t hate me.”

Abigail’s face broke into a smile. “I don’t hate you.” She gave Heather a hug. “I love you.” She cupped her breasts. “I love these too.” Her fingers zeroed in on her nipples. “Damn, these babies are sensitive now.”

Heather’s eyes were glued to Abigail’s breasts as she bent over to pick up her bra, her nipples looking like extra long pencil erasers. They bobbed and swayed with her every movement, practically hypnotizing her.

“I’m C cup now,” Abigail said as she read the tag on her lacy black bra, which had been rather plain and pink a few minutes before. She thrust out her chest. “I always wanted to be a C cup.”

Heather’s body unclenched as she let out a loud breath. “I was so scared that you were going to be mad. I don’t ever want to lose you.”

Abigail placed her hand on Heather’s cheek. “You’re not going to lose me. You’re stuck with me.”

“Good.”

Abigail picked up the pack of cigarettes. “Want one?”

“No, thanks.”

Abigail took a small drag as she lit the cigarette. When she sucked in the smoke she held it for a few seconds, a smile forming on her face. She exhaled quickly and then took a much longer drag. When she blew out the smoke it was nearly as thick as one of her mom’s exhales. “Oh my god. I can smoke now and it doesn’t taste gross. Thank you!” She kissed Heather.

Heather’s shoulder’s slumped. “I think I’ll have one after all.”

“That’s my girl.” Abigail handed Heather her the cigarette and then lit another for herself.

Heather dragged on her cigarette, her fourth of the day, while silently loathing herself. She was corrupting her best friend, but even worse, she liked it. It should’ve horrified her to hear Abigail curse and see her smoke, but it was terribly arousing and she hated herself for it. Her new hairstyle kind of reminded Heather of Rebecca. It looked like a pink and blonde mashup of Rebecca’s hairstyle and punk Snow White’s. Would Abigail become more like Rebecca everytime she used magic on her. Was she going to keep on making changes to Abigail until she was a stripper, too? Everything good and sweet about her gone until the only thing left was a bad girl lesbian? A real nasty bitch that didn’t take shit from anyone? Heather took another drag, hoping it slow down her breathing and hide her arousal.

Abigail ran her hands over her arms and then down her sides. “I’m still tingling from that orgasm. Is it going to be like that every time with you? Please say yes.”

“I don’t know. The magic probably made it more intense.”

“You think?” Abigail drew heavily on her cigarette and then blew out several smoke rings. “You know, my bathroom is practically sound proof. Want to join me in the shower?”

“I’m afraid that I won’t be able to control myself. I don’t want to make any more changes to you or your room.”

Abigail leaned into Heather and nibbled her neck. “I don’t want you to control yourself.” Placing Heather’s hands on her breasts, she said, “I want to you to make me a D cup.”

Heather moaned, Abigail’s hot breath on her neck was sending bolts of pleasure straight through her body. Remembering Abigail’s intentions she pulled away. “What’s everyone going to think if you show up with huge boobs?”

“Will they even notice? I didn’t know that you’d changed my mom or Mr. Whiskers.” Abigail scrunched up her face in thought. “Why do I remember that you changed me?”

“I wanted you to remember. I’m not sure if anyone else will notice the changes. I’m assuming that they will since you notice them. We can go find your mom and see if she notices anything different.”

“After a shower. I smell like sex.” Abigail stood and then held out her hand. “Are you coming?”

“What about Todd?”

Abigail dropped her hand. “What about him? What does he have to do with us showering together?”

“You’re supposed to go out with him tonight. Do you even like him anymore?”

“Yeah, I still like Todd. I’m not giving up men. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be with you, too. I love you. Look, we don’t have to shower together. We’ll take things slow. But when Pastor William returns I don’t want him or anyone else messing around with my feelings for you. I don’t care if I’m bi-sexual now. I love the way I feel when I’m with you and I don’t want that to change. Ever.” She tugged on Heather’s hand, a saucy smile forming on her face. “Come on. Don’t make me beg, because I will.”

Tears filled Heather’s eyes. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Abigail sighed as she released Heather’s hand. “Fine, but you’ve got to stop repressing yourself. Bottling things up is what makes you lose control.”

After Abigail finished her shower, Heather opted for a bubble bath, wanting some time to think. It was relaxing and did wonders for her mental outlook. As she soaked she considered Abigail’s words. Maybe she was right about not bottling things up. When she used her magic intentionally there seemed to be less side effects. When she let it build up the results were less predictable. Who knows how much Abigail would’ve changed if Kathleen hadn’t knocked on the door and interrupted the magic.

When she exited the bathroom Abigail was going through her jewelry box, looking for earrings to wear. Her eyes were lined heavily in black and her lips were painted a vibrant red. Like in her vision from earlier in the day she was wearing the Snow White t-shirt, but instead of stilettos she wore a pair of worn leather boots with a block heel. Unlike her vision she also wore laddered tights, a short skirt and a denim jacket.

Daddy’s little princes had been replaced by a girl who looked like she skipped classes to smoke behind the bleachers. Heather wanted to rip off her clothes and ravish her on the spot.

“What are you listening to?” Heather asked. The music on the stereo was loud, harsh and frenetic.

Abigail picked up her iPhone and looked at the display. “It’s Bikini Kill.”

After listening for a few more seconds Heather said, “Are they a Christian band?”

Abigail laughed, her head bobbing to the frenetic beat. “I doubt it with lyrics like ‘We've got to show them we're worse than queer’.”

Heather noticed that some of Patricia’s clothing had been laid out the bed, all of it black: a red trimmed corset, a long tulle skirt, lace stockings, and leather ankle boots with a small pointy heel. “What’s this?”

“That is your penance for doing this to my hair,” Abigail said.

“I thought that you liked your hair.”

“I love my hair just like I love my new taste in clothes and music, but I’m not going to be the only one alternatively dressed tonight. I’m going punk chic and you’re going Goth light.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Heather ran her hand over the tulle skirt, feeling a strange attraction to the clothes that Abigail had picked out for her. She wanted to see what she looked like with them on.

“No you don’t.” Abigail turned in her chair. She held a pair of small golden hoops up to her chest. “Think I should get my nipples pierced?”

“What have I done to you? To us? Yesterday I was embarrassed letting you see my boobs and today I let you play with them.” Heather’s cheeks grew warm. “Now you want to get your nipples pierced and I can’t stop thinking how hot it would be.”

“I love what you’ve done to me. I feel sexy as hell and I can’t wait for the others to see me. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with wearing a corset or getting your body pierced, despite what your mother used to think. So what if we’ve smoked a few cigarettes? I know several people at church who smoke. It’s no big crime.”

“But we had sex. We’re no longer virgins.”

Abigail let out a short laugh. “We’re still virgins, unfortunately.”

“You know what I mean!”

“Sorry I laughed. I guess you could call what we did ‘sex’, but I don’t know if most people would. We fooled around and made each other feel good. What’s wrong with that? No one got pregnant.”

“I guess you’re right,” Heather wasn’t fully convinced, but didn’t feel like arguing any longer.

“Good girl. Now, do you want me to help you with your makeup?”

“No. I want to try to do it myself.” Heather fingered the new holes in her ears. “But I could use a few more earrings.”

Abigail pointed to a small pile of jewelry sitting at the end of her vanity. “I picked out some earrings and belly rings for you to try on.”

When the next song started, even louder and more abrasive than the last, Heather said. “Can you play something a little lighter?”

“Sure. I know the perfect group for you.” Abigail tapped on her phone and a new song started playing. “Tell me how you like that.”

Heather liked the song instantly. The female singer’s melodic voice was much preferable over the screeching on the previous song. It kind of reminded her of music that Abigail had been playing earlier in the day, but it no longer made her feel like ants were crawling in her skin. “They’re pretty good. Who are they?”

“It’s Evanescence. I thought you might like them.”

Abigail gave up her seat at the vanity so Heather could work on her face. Despite it being the first time she’d applied makeup, she found it remarkably easy. The magic that had given her the compulsion to wear makeup had also granted her the ability to apply it expertly. It made Abigail a little jealous, having spent countless hours in front of the mirror working on her technique.

With her face done, she turned to the clothes, starting with the corset. It didn’t fit at first, Patricia having a smaller waist and bigger bust. Abigail loosed the laces until Heather was able to squeeze into it, and then cinched up them back up, causing her to let out a yelp.

“I’m not sure I can breathe with it this tight,” Heather said.

“Come look.” Abigail steered her toward the mirror.

Heather gasped at her reflection. A dark, exotic beauty stared back. Her eyes were shrouded in black, as were her lips and nails. Her ears lobes filled with several studs and a series of rings lining the sides and tops of her ears. The tulle skirt fell to her calfs, only giving a glimpse of her stockings before they disappeared into her lace up ankle boots. The corset pulled in her waist, making it look concave and pushed out her boobs, making them look almost as large as Abigail’s.

“I can’t go out in public like this. I’m half naked.”

“I can fix that.” Abigail disappeared into her walk in closet. She returned a moment later with a black half sleeve jacket. “You can wear this and it will cover your arms and chest. Once you get comfortable you can remove the jacket and watch everyone’s jaws drop.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

“Let’s go downstairs and find my mom,” Abigail said. “I want to show her how well I can smoke now, thanks to you.”

“But we just finished getting ready.”

“So?”

“If smoke now we’ll show up to dinner smelling like an ashtray and everyone will know that we’ve been smoking.”

“I don’t care about that,” Abigail said. “I’m a smoker, big deal. If they have a problem with that they can shove it up their ass.”

Abigail’s statement stunned Heather. Besides the attitude and the cursing, she considered herself a smoker. Heather wasn’t comfortable with that classification for herself. Sure, she’d been smoking, but she’d been cursed by her sister to smoke. True, she’d been smoking a lot more than one a day, but once she got rid of the curse she’d quit smoking. Wouldn’t she? For the first time, Heather pondered the idea of continuing to smoke even after the curse was lifted.

“You don’t have to come. You can wait up here,” Abigail said.

“I’ll come, but what am we going to do with your cat? He can’t come with us and he won’t stay here.”

Abigail laughed. “So, he’s my cat now?” She went into her closet and emerged with a large black purse that was the size of a beach bag. “Put him in this.” She looked directly at Mr Whiskers. “If he’s a good boy and stays hidden, no one will know he’s even in there.”

“Get in,” Heather said.

Mr Whiskers let out a meow as he leapt off bed and then into the oversized purse. Heather picked up the bag and then the girls headed downstairs.

Kathleen was almost as surprised at the girl's attire as they were with hers. She was vacuuming the family room dressed up like a hotel maid. She wore a starched black dress with white collar and apron. The dress fell to her knees. She wore a pair of tan support hose and a pair of Mary Janes with a one inch heel. She froze when she saw them.

“What on earth are you two wearing and what did you do to your hair?” she said as she shut off the vacuum.

“Pretty nice, huh?” Abigail struck a pose like a runway model. “These belonged to Patricia. Her mom gave them to us today. Heather helped me with my hair.”

“You both look beautiful,” Kathleen said. “It is quite a change and it will take some getting used to.”

“Speaking of change, what are you wearing?” Abigail asked.

Kathleen held the skirt of her dress and did a twirl. “Do you like it? I picked it up today.”

“Why are you dressed like a maid?”

“I hate getting my clothes dirty when doing house work. When I saw that Henderson Uniforms was having a clearance sale I figured why not?”

Abigail seemed to take her mother’s reasoning at face value, but Heather wasn’t too sure. Had her magic made Kathleen want to wear a maid’s uniform, or was it as Kathleen said, the sale was too good to pass up and she hated dirtying her expensive clothing?

“There’s something else I want to show you.” Abigail grabbed Heather’s and and then skipped to the dining room table, unable to suppress her excitement. She picked up her mother’s pack of cigarettes and shook three out.

“So, what do you want to show me?” Kathleen said as accepted a cigarette from her daughter.

“Watch this, Mom.” Abigail lit her cigarette and took long drag, opening her mouth, exposing a large amount of smoke before sucking it into her lungs. “No more cough!” She exhaled a tight stream of smoke and then took another long drag.

“That’s an amazing turn around, angel. You’re a natural smoker if ever I saw one.”

Abigail blushed as she smiled. “Thanks, Mom, but Heather deserves the credit; she’s been corrupting me.”

While she knew that Abigail was teasing, Heather she still felt guilty. She’d corrupted both her and her mother. Three days ago neither would have considered smoking and Kathleen would have freaked out seeing her daughter with pink spiky hair.

Heather might have continued down a rabbit hole of self recrimination, but the front door opened and interrupted her thoughts.

“I’m home,” Gordon called from the front door.

“We’re in the dining room, dear. Abigail has something to show you.”

“Mom!” Abigail hissed, smoke spurting from her mouth.

“Don’t be shy. Not around your father, especially.”

Gordon entered the room. “Is it Halloween already?”

“You can leave if you’re going to be rude,” Kathleen said.

“I’m sorry girls,” Gordon said as he slid an arm around his wife. “You look great. I’m not used to seeing either of you with such colorful hair and faces.”

“You may have noticed that our daughter is smoking. Now keep in mind that she has been doing it for less than 24 hours.” Kathleen looked at her daughter with eager pride. “Go on, angel.”

“This is so embarrassing,” Abigail said. She took another deep drag, once again exposing the smoke for a moment before inhaling it and then blowing out a thick cloud.

“Wow, you’re a natural!”

“That’s what I said,” Kathleen said. “Why don’t you join us?”

“I can’t right now. I have to shoot off a couple quick emails to a colleague in Japan. How about after dinner?”

“We’re going to meet Todd and Kirk at their place and then we’re riding with them to the Golden Palace for Rita’s going away dinner,” Abigail said.

“Well, maybe sometime tomorrow then,” Gordon gave his wife a quick peck on the cheek before leaving the room.

Heather wondered why Gordon was so laid back about Abigail smoking. She could understand Kathleen’s attitude, she’d been turned into a devout smoker magically. That didn’t explain Gordon’s attitude. Even if he remembered his wife being a lifelong smoker, shouldn’t he have been a little more concerned to find out that his only child had just taken up the habit?

“We should be going too,” Abigail said as she crushed out her cigarette in the ashtray next to her mother’s. “Bye, Mom.”

Heather's story - chapter 10