Heather's Story part 12

Heather's Story
By Varian Milagro


Chapter 12

Heather awoke on Saturday wishing that she were dead. Her mouth felt like someone had stuffed it with old cotton balls that had been soaked in cigarette ash and stale alcohol. She imagined that her breathe was so bad it could kill a small animal. All the moisture was gone from her mouth; she ached for a glass of water. Her head throbbed with a needle like pain centered in each temple. Her stomach felt like it was trying to claw its up and out through her throat.

To make matters worse Kirk had the worst mattress she’d ever slept on. The thing sagged like a semi deflated air mattress. It forced the girl’s bodies against each other and not in a pleasant “let’s cuddle” way, but more of an involuntarily wedged together way that grinded hip bones against each other and shoved elbows into ribs.

The absolute worst of it was the agonizing pain in her left breast. Opening her eyes she discovered the source of her discomfort. Mr Whiskers was standing on her breast, staring into her eyes.

“Meow!” he demanded.

It suddenly occurred to Heather that he hadn’t eaten or been near a litter box for at least 16 hours. “I can get you some food pretty soon,” Heather croaked. “I don’t have a litter box with me. Can you use the toilet? I heard that some cats do that.”

“Meow.”

Heather concentrated. After a moment she sensed a presence in the hall bathroom. She knew immediately that it wasn’t either Todd or Kirk, although her connection to the person in the other room reminded her of them. It had the same “flavor”. She concentrated again, seeking out either Todd of Kirk, but didn’t sense them anywhere in the house.

“There’s another toilet downstairs,” she said.

Mr Whiskers hopped off the bed and then ran out the door. As soon as he vanished from sight, Heather cursed herself, wishing she’d had him grab her cigarettes first. Craning her neck she spotted her purse on the floor right next to the bed. After a couple of attempts she was able to hook the handle with her foot.

As she lit a cigarette she remembered part of her dream and nearly laughed out loud. She’d made such a fuss in the diner about smoking a single cigarette. Only five days later and she’s lighting up as soon as she awoke, even before getting out of bed.

She took a big drag and held the smoke for several seconds, soaking up the wave of pleasure that rolled through her body. As she contemplated the rest of her dream, Heather became even more determined to stop her sister by whatever means necessary. The things she’d done to her were bad enough, but she was corrupting innocent people. She’d turned Vicki and Rebecca into strippers, turned Tina and Alexis into smokers, and made Leah become obsessed with the Kardashians. Who knows what she ended up doing to Roy, the restaurant manager. The woman had to be stopped.

“Let me have some of that,” Abigail said. Her voice sounded like she had a cold. If she was anything like Heather, she probably wished she had a cold instead of a monster hangover. Her worst cold had never felt this bad.

Heather handed over her cigarette and then lit another. “Do you feel as bad as I do?”

“I feel worse than I did when I had pneumonia.”

“Do you know what time it is?”

Abigail tried to sit up and then fell backwards onto the bed. “How does Kirk sleep on this thing?” She tried again. This time Heather pushed on her back, giving her that little bit extra that she needed to get out of the sinkhole.

“Oh shit!” Abigail said once she’d located her phone.

“What is it?” Heather had managed to struggle out of bed, too. She was immediately regretful. Both her head and stomach started doing flip flops.

“Our yard sale shifts start in less than a half hour.”

The girls didn’t have a change of clothes with them, so were forced to wear the outfits they’d worn the night before. Abigail whipped on her punk Snow White t-shirt quickly and then tried to do the same with her tights. Unfortunately they went from laddered to all out torn when she tried to yank them up her legs.

Heather was having problems of her own. The corset she’d worn the night before had come off pretty easily before bed, but was not cooperating this morning. The zipper refused to more than half way up her waist. Abigail offered to loosen up the laces in the back, but Heather wasn’t going down without a fight. She fit into it yesterday, she was darn well going to fit into it today!

Just as Heather managed to pull the zipper past her breasts, Mr Whiskers trotted into the room with his tail held high. He sauntered over to her and then rubbed his body against her leg.

“I’m sorry that I stole your cat.”

“What are you talking about?” Abigail sat on the floor, lacing up her boots.

“Mr Whiskers was your cat back when he was white.” Heather picked him up and scratched under his chin.

“That’s okay. I’m more of a dog person anyway.”

As they exited Kirk’s bedroom Heather’s link to the person in the bathroom grew stronger. That person turned out to be Byron. He was in the process of shaving his chest. His face had already been shaved clean and he’d adopted a new hairstyle since the night before. His hair had that stylish, messy look that required a lot of hair gel and expertise.

“Where are your roommates?” Abigail asked.

“They went shopping a couple hours ago,” Byron said. “They said that you two looked so cute, all tangled up together, that they hated to wake you.”

“We’re going to clean up and then take off. We’re going to be late for something,” Abigail said.

“You’re welcome to use this bathroom. I can finish up downstairs.” Byron grabbed the shaving cream and razor as he squeezed past the girls. “The other bathroom is kind of small and I don’t need that much room.

“Thanks,” Heather said. “You don’t have to answer this, but why are you shaving your chest?”

“You two got me thinking. If beautiful women like you are attracted to a couple metrosexuals like Todd and Kirk, maybe I should give it a try. It certainly couldn’t hurt my love life, which has been piss poor for far too long.” He threw a towel over his shoulder and then headed toward the stairs to the basement.

Heather frowned at Byron’s departing body. “Well, that was weird.”

“What?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Byron going all metrosexual like his roommates? You don’t think that’s a little coincidental?”

Heather looked into the bathroom mirror and then let out a gasp. Her eyebrows had been reshaped and her skin was entirely flawless. There wasn’t a bump or crevice anywhere on her face, making it look almost artificial. Her eyebrows were dramatic lines that took a sharp downward angle at the edges of her eyes, giving her a rather sinister look. She quickly stripped and Abigail discovered a couple of other changes. There were holes in both of her nipples and she now sported a tattoo on her lower back. Unable to get a good look at in the mirror, she had Abigail describe the tattoo.

“It’s pretty freaky looking,” Abigail said. “When you first look at it, it looks like flower and a butterfly on an intricate bed of lace, but when you look closer you can see that the lace is really a web, the butterfly is a skull and the flower is a spider.”

After a quick shower Heather did her own makeup, starting with a thick layer of liquid eyeliner. She went crazy with mascara, making her already long lashes stand out like black swan wings. She really wished that she had Patricia’s jewelry box with her. She ached to fill the new holes in her nipples. As she thought back to Kirk’s cock standing before her eyes, begging for attention, she realized that there was another hole she wanted filled.

They made a quick stop at Pet Emporium to buy Mr Whiskers some food on their way to Abigail’s house. Heather also picked up a food dish, some kitty litter supplies and some cat nip. Unfortunately, that meant skipping Hava Java to make it to the neighborhood yard sale on time.

The yard sale had been set up in the cul de sac in front of Abigail’s house. Nearly a dozen long folding tables were arranged in rows, packed with all of the merchandise up for sale. Larger items stood on their own, things like treadmills, bicycles, snow tires, old TVs and more.

Abigail’s next door neighbors, John and Carol Donaldson sat at a small table at the back of the cul de sac and were happy to see the girls arrive on time. They were leaning back in a pair of blue camp chairs, drinking Diet Coke and smoking. They spent a few minutes bringing the girls up to speed on their few duties, which included making sure that nothing was stolen, recording what was sold, and answering the inevitable inane questions of potential customers.

Taped to the front of the table was a large sign that informed shoppers that while cash was not accepted, they did accept credit and debit cards. An iPad with a credit card reader sat on the table next to a half full ashtray. Either the Donaldson’s were chain smokers or they weren’t the only ones who’d been smoking while running the yard sale.

Abigail looked at the ashtray and then toward the couple as they made their way home, a frown forming on her face.

“Everything okay?” Heather asked.

“I thought the Donaldsons didn’t smoke.”

“Well, I guess it means it’s okay for us to smoke out here.” Heather emptied a can of cat food into a plastic dish.

Abigail removed a pack of cigarettes from her purse and then shook it, a few remaining cigarettes rattled around inside. “How are you doing on smokes?”

Heather checked her pack. “Enough to make it through our shift, but not much more than that.” She emptied a water bottle into a second plastic dish and then watched her cat eat for a few moments. It gave her a warm feeling knowing that he was getting fed. “I found out what happened to my memory and Pastor William.”

“Let me guess, Bethany.” Abigail stuck two cigarettes in her mouth and then lit them. “Have another one of those dreams last night?” She handed one of the cigarettes to Heather.

“She took me to the Boxcar diner and tried to force me to smoke by turning other people into smokers.” Heather took long drag.

Abigail chuckled. “She’d have a harder time trying to stop you from smoking now.”

Heather exhaled a thick cloud, anger welling up inside of her as she watched her smoke dance away in the afternoon breeze. “She got her way. I’m a smoker. That’s all she’s going to win. I’m going to take her down. You should have seen what she did to those innocent people at the Boxcar. She turned two people into smokers and then made this college girl obsessed with the Kardashian.”

“Just playing devil’s advocate, but you changed people into smokers, too.”

“That’s different.”

Abigail choked on her cigarette. “How?”

“It was an accident when I did it. If she hadn’t removed my memory I never would have turned you, your mom or Janet into smokers.”

“Oh my god! You turned Janet into a smoker?” Abigail said. “When did you do that?”

Heather thought back to the voice that had spoken in her head and the unbelievable pleasure he had bestowed upon her. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. I tried to grant her a wish and it didn’t go perfectly.”

“Pastor William is going to freak out when he finds out that his wife smokes.”

“Yeah,” Heather paused to take a drag, thinking about his pending reaction. It would make him mad, but once she explained things, she was sure that he’d help her take on Bethany with all that much more enthusiasm. “He’ll want to make Bethany pay, but he’ll have to stand in line, cause she’s mine.”

“Why would he be mad at Bethany? You’re the one that turned his wife into a smoker.”

Heather held up her cigarette. “Because this.” She swept her hands in front of her Goth outfit. “And this.” She threw her arms into the air. “And everything else. It’s all her fault. She started it and I’m going to end it.”

“You should be careful around her,” Abigail said. “The way you describe her mental powers, she sounds scary dangerous.”

“She was able to make one girl become obsessed with the Kardashians. With my magic I could transform her into one of the Kardashian sisters for real. She’s a carnival hypnotist. I’m Harry flipping Potter.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The yard sale didn’t attract a lot of business and they grew bored quickly. Heather wasn’t sure who thought it was a good idea to stage a neighborhood yard sale in early April. The few customers they did get were lookie-loos. Still, it was a sunny day and not too cold. Most of the customers browsed quietly and then went their own way empty handed.

It was thirty minutes into their two hours shift when an obese woman wobbled up to the treadmill, looked at the price tag and let out a sigh. She was in her twenties and had a pretty face that was marred by acne and sullen expression.

“We’re willing to haggle,” Abigail said.

“I doubt I could afford it,” the woman said. “I couldn’t even afford half of what you’re asking.”

Abigail elbowed Heather and then gave her a “go on” motion with her eyes and head.

Heather mouthed, “What?” back at Abigail.

Abigail leaned close and then whispered into Heather’s ear. “Use your magic on her. Make her skinny.”

Heather rolled her eyes. She wasn’t really in the mood to use magic. Her hangover was still in full swing and a caffeine headache had been added to the mix. Plus, she still hadn’t had any breakfast. But then again, using her magic always made her body feel good. Maybe it would wipe out her hangover. It was worth a shot. She stood and then made her way over to the woman.

“Hi, I’m Heather and that’s my friend Abigail. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but are you trying to lose weight?”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Sonja. Yeah, I’m trying to lose weight, but nothing ever seems to work. My doctor thinks that if I get a treadmill I might at least stop gaining weight, but I don’t have a lot of money.”

Heather smiled. “I think I might be able to help.” She closed her eyes and focused on Sonja not only losing weight, but also adopting the lifestyle that would keep the weight off for good. At the last moment she decided that she wanted Sonja to be able to afford the treadmill and remember her former life.

The magic entered Sonja and she shrank in on herself, nearly disappearing inside her own clothes. Her sweater, which had been fighting a losing war against the woman’s bulk, exposing her immense belly, now hung to her ankles. Her sweat pants lay in a gray pool at her feet. She gaped at her oversize clothes, confusion and fear straining her face. In addition to losing a couple hundred pounds Sonja’s complexion cleared and her hair changed from greasy brown to shiny, honey blonde.

Ignoring the burning sensation on her right shoulder, Heather concentrated on Sonja’s clothing, wishing they’d fit her better, wishing that all of her things would fit her new life. Sonja’s sweater shrink-wrapped itself to her body as did her pants while her loafers morphed into a pair of cross trainers. A pulsation of pleasure rocketed through Heather’s body. It didn’t make her handover go away, but it felt nice all the same.

“How did you do that?” Sonja gazed at her new body with wide eyed wonder. Her sweats had been replaced with a pair of spandex bicycle shorts and her sweater into a pink sports bra. Her belly was exposed again, but a feminine six pack had replaced the rolls of fat.

“It’s not important, so don’t worry about it.” Heather admired her handy work. “How do you feel?”

“I feel fantastic!” Sonja ran her hands along her slim, tight body. “I always wished I could look like this. I tried losing weight before, but nothing ever worked.”

“I’m glad I could help.” Heather said.

“I’d like to buy the treadmill and weight set. I’m gonna build a gym in my home so I can help all of my friends get in shape, too.” Sonja looked over to where she’d parked her car. It was gone and in it’s place was a top of the line touring bicycle. “Will you hold them for me? I’ll rent a truck and pick them up in a couple of hours, if that’s okay.”

As they watched Sonja pedal away, Abigail said, “It must feel great being able to make people’s lives better like that. Sonja looked a lot happier and she’s going to try and help her friends, too.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You don’t sound that thrilled.”

“Sorry, I’m just in a bad mood. I’m hungry, hungover and I’m dying for some caffeine.”

“Maybe you can create a mocha with your powers.” Abigail said.

Heather tried to make a pair of mochas appear in Abigail’s hand, but nothing happened except that her headache intensified. She then tried to transform a pair of large fuzzy dice into some coffee, but that didn’t work either.

“Maybe if Bethany hadn’t blocked my memory I’d know how my powers worked and I could work it better.”

Abigail picked up her purse. “Since it’s so slow I’m going to go buy some smokes and then stop by Hava Java. You want anything else while I’m out?”

Heather hugged Abigail and then kissed her. “Just you.”

As Abigail drove away in her car, Heather sat at the cashier’s table, waiting for customers to show up. Mr Whiskers leapt onto her lap. She pondered her magic as she stroked his soft fur and listened to his hypnotic purring. Abigail was right to a certain degree, using her magic to benefit others was a nice thing to do, but she also knew that she shouldn’t be using it at all. Pastor William was probably going to flip out when he found out how much she’d been using it on people, especially how she’d used it on his wife.

Thinking of Janet reminded her again of the mind blowing pleasure that the voice had bestowed upon her. It was the real reason she’d agreed to use her magic on Sonja, the hope that she might feel even a small fraction of that all encompassing bliss and euphoria. When it hadn’t happened it had made her feel even worse, kind of like opening a birthday present expecting a new phone and getting socks.

She lifted Mr Whiskers up and looked into his eyes. “Am I being totally selfish?”

“Meow.”

She wished that she could communicate with him better. Whenever he meowed at her it felt like he was trying to tell her something important. She’d get a vague impression of what he was trying to say, but she wasn’t really sure if that was really coming from him or if she was just imagining it.

“Meow.”

Before she’d used magic on him, back when he’d been white and belonged to Abigail, she never got glimpses of intent out of him when he meowed. Maybe a bit more magic might help her know what he was really trying to say.

“Meow.”

He seemed to approve of her idea, so she focused on Mr Whiskers being able to share his thoughts with her. She also wished that he could tell her how she could experience some more gratitude. As the magic entered the cat, something else went along with it, something dark and powerful, that left her feeling drained. When it finished she felt a connection to Mr Whiskers like none she’d felt before. If her link to Kathleen was a nylon cord, her link to the cat was three inch thick, steel cable.

Mr Whiskers rubbed his cheek along hers and she was nearly overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude and companionship. He abruptly turned his head and she eagerly followed his gaze, knowing that he was about to show her something important.

A middle aged woman and a teen girl were walking toward the yard sale tables. Mr Whiskers hopped onto her shoulder. He put his mouth against her ear and purred, telling her that she should pay special attention to the newcomers.

“Kristen, come over here. This would look darling on you.” The middle aged woman held up a pink t-shirt that had “Pretty Fabulous” written on it in sparkling letters above the picture of a purple cartoon horse with eyes so large they took up half of its face.

“As if.” The middle school girl pulled the hood of her hoodie further over her face and then shambled over to another table. Heather guessed that she was around five-two and couldn’t weigh much more than 100 pounds.

“What’s wrong with it? You love ‘Small Little Horsie’.”

“Oh my god, mom,” The teen hissed as she looked around to see if anyone was watching. “It’s called ‘My Little Pomy’ and I haven’t watched that show in like, forever. You’re so embarrassing.”

“I just read an article in Times magazine that it was coming back in fashion. This shirt could be a collector’s item.”

“You’re so out of touch you literally have no idea. Who even reads magazines anyway?”

“Talk to me then. I want to be in touch. I want to know what’s going on in your life.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Kristen rolled her eyes. “Why are we even here? Last week you wouldn’t buy me new headphones because you said we’re too poor and now you’re trying to force this ugly ass t-shirt on me.” She held up her phone to her mom’s face. “If you’re so into buying me clothes, why don’t you buy me this?” She swiped the screen. “Or this?”

“You’re much too young to be wearing shoes with heels like that or a skirt that tiny.” Wendy pushed her daughter’s phone away. “Besides, the reason we’re shopping at a garage sale because we don’t have money to buy at regular stores. I don’t make enough waiting tables to buy you every little thing that catches your eye on the internet.”

Heather emphasized with Kristen, remembering the daily torture of middle school vividly. Her mother had made her wear dresses that made her look like she was Amish and the other kids had teased her endlessly. She could only imagine what it would be like to wear a “My Little Pony” t-shirt to school. She decided to make her move.

“Excuse me, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation and I think that I can help you. My name is Heather.”

“Nice to meet you Heather. I’m Wendy. I appreciate your offer of help, but no thank you. You look like you have enough issues of your own to deal with.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Heather hadn’t been expecting that reply.

“Just look at you. You stink of cigarettes and stale alcohol and you’re dressed like you’re...I don’t even know what. Headed to work at a fetish nightclub or an occult bookstore? I’m not sure which.” Kristen turned back to the table. “I’ll deal with my daughter my own way.”

Heather tried to quell her growing anger, knowing that it had more to do with her hangover and her issues with her sister than Wendy’s distaste for her attire. She would have let it slide, but Mr Whiskers purred into her ear, letting her know that she could experience the voice’s gratitude again. All she needed to do was seize upon her anger and let it guide her magic when she used it on Wendy. Heather spun around, grabbed Wendy by her hand and then let the magic fly with a wondrous fury.

The woman shrank, both her hips and breasts dwindling as she grew skinnier. Years fell away from her face, her skin tightening and the lines around her eyes disappearing. Her expertly applied makeup soon looked like it had been applied by someone with little practice. Braces appeared on her teeth. Her slacks became a pair of blue jeans and her floral blouse was replaced by the pink t-shirt she’d been holding a moment before.

As Wendy changed Heather was once again rewarded. She leaned against a table, hoping not to fall as she was lost in a sea of all encompassing pleasure. When she opened her eyes, she discovered that Wendy and Kristen were still standing before her and Mr Whiskers was still on her shoulder. Seeing as how Wendy was frantically examining her body, Heather figured that too much time couldn’t have passed. She noticed that her corset felt loose, like someone had let out the laces around her waist.

“What did you do to me?” Wendy said in a squeaky voice. “How did you do this? This isn’t possible.” She gazed down at her body while running her tongue over her braces. She was the same height and weight as her daughter, making them look like fraternal twins.

Heather shook her head, trying to regain focus. “That will help you remember what it’s really like to be a middle schooler. Once you’ve worn that shirt at school a few times you’ll see how mean the other kids can be. Maybe after that you’ll listen to your daughter about her fashion needs.”

“Oh my god. This is so freaky.” Kristen stared at her mother with a look of amused astonishment. “I’ve got bigger boobs than you do!”

Wendy looked like she was going to cry as she cupped her miniscule breasts. She looked up at Heather suddenly. “We can’t both go to school. Who’s going to make the money?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Bills don’t pay themselves. There’s food to buy, rent, car payments. None of it’s free. Someone has to work to pay for it all.”

Heather studied Kristen for a moment. “What about you? Do you want to find out what it’s like to be an adult?

“Really? I’d love to be older,” Kristen said, her eyes filling with wonder. Suddenly she frowned. “I mean, not old older, just older.”

Heather did her thing. Kristen gasped as her body stretched. She gained several inches of height, but retaining her original body shape. She looked down at her mom as Wendy looked up at her daughter.

“It’s so weird being taller than you,” Kristen patted her mom’s head. “You’re so short now.”

Wendy brushed away her daughter’s hand. “I don’t know how you’re doing this, but please change us back.”

“Your daughter is taller, but hardly grown up,” Heather said.

Kristen’s body expanded, developing womanly curves. She giggled and twisted her body like she was being tickled by a hundred feathers. Her spindly spider legs became soft and supple. Her hips widened as her bottom filled out. Her waist stayed the same so when her breasts grew in she had a delectable hour glass shape. Her breasts were modest for an adult woman, but massive compared to the sub a-cups she’d had moments before.

Kristen cupped her new breasts, gazing at them like Christmas had come early that year. “Oh my god, they’re so big and heavy.” She sneered at her mother. “I guess I don’t have to wait a couple of years after all.”

“Stop, please,” Wendy said. “We’ve learned our lesson. I’ll pay more attention to my daughter and I’ll buy her nicer things.”

Kristen’s smile was replaced by sadness as she heard the panic in her mom’s voice. “Maybe you should change us back now.”

“There’s still a little more to do. Once I’m finished I promise I’ll change you both back if it’s what you both want,” Heather said.

“I think that it’s better that we change back now,” Wendy told her daughter.

“But when am I going to get another chance like this? I get to see what it’s like to be grown up. You’re always telling me to grow up. Now’s my chance. Please, let me try it for a little while. Pretty please.” Kristen had the facial features of a woman in her early twenties, but her expression was that of a doe eyed adolescent.

“I guess, but only for a few minutes. I have to work later today.”

“Two things we still need to do,” Heather said. “First, you need a skill set. If you’re going to be the adult you’ll need to know how to make money to pay rent and bills like your mother said. Second, we need to reconfigure your relationship. Wendy can’t be your mom when she’s eight years younger than you are.” Heather paused to listen to Mr Whiskers. “Let’s start with the second one. Kristen, do you want to be sisters or do you want to be the mom?”

“Sisters!” Wendy shouted.

Kristen chortled. “I totally want to be the mom. We’ll see how she likes vacuuming the living room the second she gets home from school.”

“Since it’s a tie I’ll vote, too. Mom it is. I made you 21 which is way too young to be the mother of a thirteen year old. Now I could make you older, let’s say 35. That would be plenty old enough,” A wicked looking smile grew on Heather’s face as she leaned in closer to Kristen. “Or I could make your mom younger.”

Kristen’s laugh sounded like a snort. “Definitely make her younger.”

Wendy started shrinking again, becoming lost in her clothing. When she descended past four feet, her pants fell down around her ankles. Her pink t-shirt hung on her like a dress. Down she went until she was barely three feet tall, her head reaching Kristen’s waist. Her braces were gone and replaced with a full set of baby teeth. She looked down at her tiny body. She grabbed her pants and pulled them up, but they fell back down the moment she let go. She craned her neck to look up a her daughter, her bottom lip quivering.

“Let’s fix your clothes.”

Wendy’s hair reformed itself into an adorable pair of pigtails. Her pants vanished just as her underwear was changed into a diaper. It was covered up when the t-shirt redesigned itself into a pretty toddler dress. A pink “My Little Pony” stuffed animal materialized in her hands.

“Oh my god, you look so adorable, Mom.” Kristen had her hands up to her mouth.

“I don’t wanna be wittle no more.” Wendy stuck out her bottom lip as her eyes filled with tears.

“We still need to give Kristen some skills and experience. She wouldn’t be able to be a good mom or bread winner with the knowledge of a thirteen year old. She may have the body of a 21 year old, but she needs the mind of one, too.”

Heather concentrated on Kristen, filling her with all the maternal instincts she’d need to properly raise her mother properly. She gave her homemaking and cooking skills that would make Martha Stewart envious, the first aid skills of a registered RN, and the child development knowledge of a licensed pediatrician. Knowing that Kristen would be able to take care of Wendy properly filled her heart with a warm joy. But that wasn’t the kind of warmth she really wanted.

Kristen scooped Wendy into her arms, holding her tight, kissing her cheeks. “I love you baby girl! When you told me you loved me more than life itself, I didn’t understand. How could I? But now I do. I’m going to repay all those years you raised me by raising you with patience and unconditional love.”

“I’m supposed to be the mommy. You pwomised!”

“I can’t go back to being that sullen, angry teenager. I promise that I’ll raise you right so you won’t have to go through that yourself.”

“No! I’m mommy.” Wendy beat her tiny hands against Kristen’s chest. “You wittle girl.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do for money. I suppose I could work at the diner like you used to. After all, they're going to be short a waitress when you don’t show up for work. I’ll drop you off at my old daycare, Kiddie Camp, and then I’ll try to talk your old boss into giving me a job.”

“No daycare! Stay with you.”

“I have to make money to pay the bills and keep my adorable little girl in pretty dresses. It’s something grown ups have to do.” Kristen sighed. “I don’t want to work as a waitress, but I’ll do it to provide for you. I’d prefer to work at home so I can stay with you always. But I don’t know how to stay at home and make money, too.”

Mr Whiskers purred into Heather’s ear.

“Put your daughter down for a moment and I’ll give you the job skills that will allow you to stay home with your new daughter, make enough money to pay all the bills, and have enough leftover to treat yourselves right.”

Mr Whiskers hopped out of Heather’s arms and then slinked up next to Wendy.

“Kitty!” Wendy dropped her stuffed horse and then wrapped her arms around the cat.

“Hold still,” Heather told Kristen. She wasn’t sure what a camgirl was, but it was what Kristen would be doing for a living. Images of various sexual acts and techniques flowed through Heather’s mind and into Kristen’s, stuff that she never would have dreamed up in a million years before. She tried to remember as much as she could, wanting to try some of it out on Abigail. She also gave Kristen an encyclopedic knowledge of sex toys, a compulsion for exhibitionism, and the willingness to try virtually anything in front of a camera as long as the price was right. She topped it off with the shrewd business savvy of a Wall Street bank.

Kristen’s breasts swelled from perky apples to shirt straining cantaloupes. Her top became a tube top that barely contained her new tits. Her ass ballooned while her shorts stayed the same size, making them strain to contain her bubble butt, the seam in the middle, making her ass look like a giant, juicy peach. Her face stayed youthful and innocent, but acquired a sensuality, making it look that although it may be her first time, she was a willing student and a quick learner. Her sneakers morphed into a pair of heels. Expensive gold jewelry exploded all over her body.

Heather was rewarded, again--intensely. After an indeterminable amount of time she was pulled back to reality by the pain in her chest. This time it felt like someone had yanked down on the laces at the top of her corset, cutting off her ability to breathe properly.

Kirsten bent forward to look over her new breasts in order to see her daughter. “Good news, angel. Mommy can stay home with you and make bank, too.”

Wendy popped her thumb out of her mouth as she hopped up and down. “Yay!”

Kristen turned to Heather. “Thank you for everything. We were both so miserable before. My mom used to kill herself trying to make enough money waiting tables and I fucking hated school.”

“No thanks are needed,” Heather said, knowing that she’d already received the reward she’d been seeking.

“Looks like I’m not the only one to get an instantaneous boob job.”

Heather looked down to see the her breasts spilling out of the top of her corset, the rest of them being smashed under the tight material, making it hard to take deep breathes.

Kristen ran a hand along Heather’s cheek. “I could help you out of your corset and then show you how truly thankful I am.”

Heather leaned into Kristen’s hand, her touch feeling amazing against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. Encouraged, Kristen slid her other hand behind Heather’s waist. As their lips neared, Heather placed a hand on Kristen’s shoulder. As much as she yearned to feel Kristen’s lips on her body, there was another’s she wanted even more.

“I have a girlfriend and I think she might object,” Heather said gently.

“Yes, she would,” Abigail said from behind Heather.

Heather jumped a good foot off the ground.

Kristen shot Abigail a sultry smile. “I don’t mind sharing, if you don’t.”

Abigail pulled Heather away from Kristen. “I do, actually.”

Kristen threw up her hands and took a step back. “Well, if either of you want a free private show, just look me up. I’m ‘at camgirl lovin’ on twitter.” Kristen picked up her daughter. “It’s time to go home. Mommy has to make some money.”

Wendy started crying loudly.

Kristen’s face filled with loving empathy. “What’s wrong, angel?”

“I went pee-pee,” Wendy wailed. “I don’t wanna be a baby anymore. I want to be a big girl again.”

“You are my big girl.” Kristen kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Don’t worry about peeing in your diaper, it’s perfectly natural. I’ll get you changed in the car and then we can get you home where you can take a nap. And while you’re sleeping mommy can log some webcam time and make us a bunch of money.” Kristen winked at Heather. “Once you wake up I’ll take you to the park and push you on the swing. How does that sound baby-girl?”

“Okay.” Wendy’s lip quivered, but she had stopped crying. “When do I be mommy?”

“You are a mommy. You’re Pinkie Pie’s mommy, remember?”

Wendy looked at her stuffed horse and then gave it a hug. After a few moments she looked up from her horse. “Mommy, after park, can we get ice cream for Pinkie Pie? It’s her most favorite.”

Kristen kissed her daughter’s cheek. “You’re such a great mommy to Pinkie Pie that I’ll buy you some ice cream, too.”

“Something you want to share?” Abigail said once Kristen and her daughter were out of earshot, her eyes glued on Heather’s breasts.

“I used my magic to improve a mother-daughter relationship. I made it so the mom could work from home and make lots of money.” Heather slipped out of Abigail’s grasp and then walked over to the cashier table where a couple of mochas were sitting, begging to be consumed.

Abigail looked at Kristen’s bulbous ass as she buckled her daughter into her booster seat. “Did she always look like that?”

“Like what?” Heather removed the cap of her coffee and took a large gulp, not caring how hot it was, more concerned with satisfying her body’s caffeine demands quickly.

Abigail turned and faced Heather squarely. “Did she look like a porn star when she arrived here?”

Heather’s eyes narrowed. She was quite certain that she didn’t like Abigail’s tone. Mr Whiskers sat at her feet, staring up at her. She held out her arms and he leapt into them. One part of her wanted to be defiant, it was her magic, she could do with it as she pleased. The other part of her reminded herself that Abigail was her best friend and they shared everything.

“No, she didn’t look like that when she arrived.” Heather shifted her cat to her shoulder and then pulled out a cigarette. “Neither of them did.’ Heather lit her cigarette, hoping that the smoke would hide her growing shame. “When they got here, the mom was the daughter and the daughter was the mom.”

“Oh my god! Why would you do that to them?” Abigail’s face looked like she’d just discovered that her dad was an axe murderer.

“It just happened, okay? The mom pissed me off so I made her the daughter. One thing led to another and her teenage daughter ended up like that.” Heather puffed away on her cigarette, trying to contain her growing anger. It was Abigail who’d pestered her on Friday night to use her magic on their friends. If she’d minded her own business then Heather never would have used magic on Janet and learned what true pleasure was. “It’s kinda your fault, anyway.”

“Don’t you dare blame me! I wasn’t even here.”

“No, but you’re the one that’s been trying to get me to use my magic on everyone.”

“I can’t believe you,” Abigail said. “I wanted you to help people, not screw up their lives!”

Mr Whiskers purred into Heather’s ear. Having absolutely no interest in what he had to say at the moment, she pulled him off her shoulder and set him on the ground. She noticed that Abigail had also bought some food and several packs of cigarettes, making her feel even more annoyed at herself for being mad at her best friend. “Thanks for the mocha and the scone,” Heather said, tersely.

“You’re welcome,” Abigail snapped as she sat down heavily in the chair next to Heather.

For the next few minutes, they gave each other the silent treatment. It might have stretched on longer, but Heather’s corset was killing her and she couldn’t adjust the laces herself.

“Can you help me with this corset?” Heather said as she removed her jacket.

“Nice tattoo.” Abigail crushed out her cigarette in the overflowing ashtray.

Heather held out her arm, trying to get a good look at the tattoo on her right shoulder. It wasn’t the best angle to view it, but it appeared to be the upper half of an evil fairy merged into the body of a spider, making it look like the malevolent offspring of Tinker Bell and a black widow spider.

“I’m sorry I got mad earlier,” Abigail said as she let out the laces of Heather’s corset. “I wasn’t there to see what happened, so I shouldn’t judge.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Heather breathed deeply, happy that her breasts weren’t being crushed anymore. Now that she could better look at her them she guessed that she’d gained a cup size, probably more.

“Do you think you could make my boobs as big as yours?” Abigail said as she cinched up the laces at Heather’s waist.

“Sure, but why don’t we do it in your room while were naked so we can really watch them grow?”

Abigail placed her hands on the sides of Heather’s face and kissed her passionately. They made out for several minutes, forgetting everything around them.

“Can you believe some people?”

Heather looked up to see a pair of women in their early twenties. They totally reminded her of the kind of girls who’d made her life hell in school. Beautiful, popular, skinny, overly entitled, self important, fashion queens. They were dressed in designer sun dresses with professionally done hair and makeup. They both looked immaculate and they knew it.

Abigail lit a couple of cigarettes and then handed one to Heather.

“Do you two mind blowing your noxious fumes the other way?” The blonde looked at them like she’d just stepped in something nasty.

“We’re smoking outside, what more do you want?" Abigail said.

“Kill yourselves in private.” The brunette held her Gucci purse in the crook of her arm like a badge of honor.

“Can you imagine the sad person who owned these?” The blonde held up a pair of leopard print capris. They were almost as wide as they were long.

“I know, right? Probably belonged to a desperate divorcee in her late forties who thought it would make her look attractive.” The brunette picked up a large pair of high heels with a long tangle of ankle straps. “Oh and look, here are her shoes. These have to be a size 10, at least. It’s so sad when women get old and fat, but still try to dress like they’re young and pretty.” She made a sweeping motion with her hand that ended with her pointing at Heather and Abigail. “Everything here is so tasteless.”

Heather picked up Mr Whiskers and set him on her shoulder, eager to her what he had to say about these two.

“Don’t.” Abigail grabbed Heather’s arm, trying to get her to stay seated.

Heather pulled her arm free as she stood. “Those clothes aren’t that bad.” Mr Whiskers was purring in her ear, giving her all sorts of ideas. “I bet those pants would look perfect on you with a couple alterations.”

Heather grabbed the girl’s arms and focused, letting out a moan as her magic gave the women makeovers. Their hair exploded into high, teased, manes of platinum blonde, looking almost brittle from too many bleach jobs. Wrinkles appeared at the edges of their heavily made up eyes just as their mouths stretched wide from recent face lifts and their lips plumped themselves with collagen.

Their clothing morphed as their bodies thickened, developing paunches in their lower abdomens. Their breasts inflated, riding too high on their chests to be natural, while thighs thickened until they rubbed together, both arms and legs developing a cottage cheese texture.

“What did you do to us?” the former brunette said with a low, raspy voice. She stared in horror at her body. Her new leopard print sausage dress strained to contain her new figure which looked like Kim Kardashian’s after she’d gone off her diet for a couple of decades.

Heather grabbed the edge of a table, struggling to stand as waves of euphoria enveloped her. She was vaguely aware of the tattoos that were drawing themselves on the knuckles of her hands, one reading, “Love” and the other “Hate”, both written in immaculate calligraphy.

“Change us back, now!” the original blonde said. A pair of silicone monsters blocked her view of the pink capris and white platform heels she now wore.

“You’re in no position to demand anything,” Heather said as she stood up straight, wishing that her rewards lasted longer. She snuck a peek at Abigail and then regretted it. Her face was a mixture of anger and disgust.

The former brunette pulled a long, white cigarette from her faux Gucci purse and lit it with a bedazzled lighter. She rocked on her tall stilettos as she hollowed her cheeks, sucking on her cigarette for several seconds. When she finished her drag she opened her mouth, a large ball of smoke swirling around her tongue for a brief moment before disappearing into her lungs. She broke out into a violent coughing fit. Once she stopped coughing she took another long drag and gagged. “Oh gawd, this is so gross,” she said and then raised the cigarette to her lips for another puff.

“Most people get used to smoking after a week or so, but not you two. You’ll never get used to it and the addiction will never go away, not even with nicotine patches.” Heather said. “You two are smokers for life and will hate every minute of it.

The other woman lit a cigarette and, like her friend, choked on the smoke. “We’re sorry we was rude, lady. Change us back, please.”

“Come back in a week and I just might,” Heather said. “In the meantime you may want to buy some clothes, you’re going to need a new wardrobe. I think you’ll find that you can only wear knock offs, nothing name brand.”

The women looked at through the clothes on the table and bought an armload each.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Abigail said once the heavyset, middle-aged women made their purchases.

“They were annoyingly rude,” Heather said. “They deserved what they got.”

“Yes, they were rude, but I don’t think they deserved that. Just this morning you told me how much you hated your sister for turning people into smokers at a diner on Monday. Now look at you. You turned those two women into smokers and stole a couple decades of their lives. For what?”

“This was different. The people in the diner were minding their own business when my sister messed up their lives. The women I changed were the types of girls who made our lives a living hell in high school. I let them off easy.”

“Those two didn’t make our lives miserable in school. Those were entirely different people. It isn’t right to punish them for what someone else did to you,” Abigail said. “You should be making the world a better place with your magic, not worse.”

“You wanted me to use my magic and I did. Don’t micro manage me.”

The girls stopped talking. The day dragged on. The shift was only a couple hours long, but it felt like an eternity. Heather grew thirsty, but she didn’t feel like getting up and going into Abigail’s house to get some water. She knew that Abigail would get some for her, but that would mean talking to her and she wasn’t ready to do that yet.

After another twenty minutes a young couple in their late teens arrived. She wore a pair of cut-offs and he wore a pair of baggy jeans and a baseball hat. They had matching Franz Ferdinand t-shirts and held each other with one hand and skateboards in the other. She led him straight to the dinette set.

“You know, this would be a great dining room table if we had a place of our own,” the girl said.

“Like we could ever afford our own place. I can barely make enough for gas money to make the drive to my crappy job at Burger Town.”

Abigail tapped on Heather’s leg.

“What?” Heather said in a grunt.

“I don’t want to tell you what to do, but do you think that you could help them? They seem nice.”

Heather hated being mad at Abigail and knew that this would be a good opportunity to smooth things out. She set Mr Whiskers down and then slipped on her jacket, trying to hide her cleavage. Before she could stand, Mr Whiskers he ran up her body and took his place on her shoulder. As she approached the couple he purred suggestions into her ear. She tried to block them out and concentrate on making the couple better, not worse. “I can help you get your own place. Is that what you both want?”

The couple nodded and Heather blasted them with a stream of magic. She felt a prickly sensation above her vagina as the couple appeared to age a couple of years, their clothes changing from slacker wear to middle class suburbanite. He wore a pair of Dockers, a golf shirt and tan loafers. His ball cap disappeared and his hair retreated into a business cut. Her clothes became a turquoise dress. Her hair lengthened and formed itself into a ponytail as a large diamond ring materialized on her left hand. Their skateboards vanished and a brand new Ford Explorer appeared at the end of the cul de sac.

They were oblivious to their own changes, but were quite surprised to see Heather’s hair grow before their eyes, as it plummeted down her back on its way to her ass. They not only bought the table and chairs, but also a set of dishes and utensils.

“Aw, that was so sweet. They look so happy now,” Abigail said. “Isn’t it nice doing your magic for good?”

“I guess,” Heather said after lighting a cigarette. She slumped in her chair, feeling like she was on the first day of a no sugar diet that was going to last the rest of her life. Still, Mr Whiskers had wanted her to change the woman into a prostitute and the man into her pimp. It had been a horribly wicked idea that she’d found hard to resist, knowing the pleasures that had awaited her had she capitulated.

“What is going on with you?” Abigail asked as she grabbed a cigarette for herself. “Something changed last night and it’s only gotten worse today.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Those are three of the most hurtful words you’ve ever said to me.” Abigail looked like she might start crying. “Don’t block me out. I’m here for you no matter what. I sure hope that it’s that way for you, too.”

Heather knew that Abigail was right. Why was she keeping secrets from her of all people? Was it shame? Was she afraid that Abigail might try and take her new toy away from her? “I haven’t told you everything. The short version is that last night when I changed Janet I experienced something that was more amazing than anything I’d ever experienced before. It was like an orgasm of body, mind and soul. But it was a million times more amazing than that.”

“That sounds incredible,” Abigail said.

“Yeah, well, the problem is that I only get another taste of that amazing pleasure when I use the magic on people in a kinda mean way.”

“Is that why you were writhing in pleasure a few minutes ago? I was kind of jealous; it looked like you were having an amazing time and I wanted to feel it too.”

Mr Whiskers purred into Heather’s ear.

“You could.” Heather was so excited at the prospect of sharing with her best friend that she almost leapt out of her chair. “I can share it with you the next time I use my magic.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Abigail said. “I don’t like being mean to people if I don’t have to.”

“I’ll let you pick the people out. When you see someone who could use a little punishment, let me know and I’ll make you feel better than you could possibly imagine.”

“I don’t think that it’s right to be mean to someone for self pleasure.” A half minute later she added, “Your hair looks amazing that long.”

Abigail’s resolve lasted less than fifteen minutes. With less than twenty minutes remaining of their shift a truly obnoxious asshole arrived. He wasn’t a terribly large man, most would call him scrappy, but he was larger than the petite woman with him. From the ring on her finger and the way she flinched every time he raised his arm, it was evident that she was a victim of spousal abuse. He berated her at every turn. When she picked up the wall clock shaped like a cat he snatched it from her hands.

“I’m not wasting anymore of my hard earned money on your useless crap. Damn, you’re such a worthless bitch. I don’t know why I bother to keep you around. Make yourself useful for a change and help me look through all this crap for any shot glasses to add to my collection.”

Abigail pointed to Raymond. “Do him. But don’t be mean to the woman, okay? It looks like she’s been through enough.”

Heather shook with anticipation. “Come with me.” She grabbed Abigail by the hand and led her toward the couple. She walked straight to the woman and said, “Is this man your husband and does he beat you?”

“Yes,” the lady said quietly. “But I deserve it. I’m always making mistakes and I had an affair last year.”

The man yanked the woman’s arm, pulling her away from Heather. “Shut up you stupid cunt!”

Heather grabbed his shoulder and he suddenly froze. “Be quiet unless I ask you a question. Tell me your names.”

“I’m Raymond and that bitch is my wife, Paula. What are you two, a pair of dykes? I thought your kind only liked flannel.”

Heather smiled wickedly; this was going to be fun regardless of any reward. “Have you ever cheated on your wife?”

“Yes,” Raymond said.

Paula’s face flushed as she looked down at the ground.

“How many times?” Heather asked.

“Fuck if I know, I’ve been getting steady tail on the side since we got married five years ago.”

“Who, the hell, would sleep with you?” Abigail said with a look of disgust.

Raymond whirled to face Abigail. “I knew it. You two are a pair of carpet munchers. If you were into men you wouldn’t have to ask that question.”

“And yet she did,” Heather said. “Answer her question. Truthfully”

“You’d be surprised what fifty bucks can buy you.”

Heather cocked her head as she listened to Mr Whisker’s purrs. “So, Raymond, how do you feel about transgender bathroom rights?”

“Fucking freaks should go outside like the animals they are.”

Heather held out her hand toward Abigail. “What do you think, lover? Should I be naughty or nice?”

Abigail took Heather’s hand and then pulled her into a passionate kiss. “Go for it.”

Raymond cowered as Heather’s magic reshaped him. At first he shrank and then he grew. His body lost stature and height quickly, only to gain some of the height back when his sneakers turned into a pair of stilettos. Hundreds of holes appeared in his jeans before becoming fishnet stockings. A tiny, black leather skirt formed on his slender hips just as his t-shirt transformed into a matching halter top. His skin took on a soft shine as his chest swelled slightly and fat redistributed itself on his body, moving from his abdomen to his hips and thighs, the result of years on female hormones. His chest swelled again as it filled with silicone. He retained his masculine face even as it was covered in heavy makeup. Chandelier earrings appeared in his ears just as his hair turned platinum and flowed down his back. His fingernails lengthened and colored themselves firehouse red, matching his high heels.

Abigail struggled to stand as Raymond changed, her mouth hanging slack, her eyes gazing at something a million miles away, tears rolling down her cheeks, her body swaying like a sapling in a windstorm. Heather held onto her, trying to keep her from falling while she too was being overwhelmed with incomprehensible pleasure. To a casual observer it looked like a drunk girl trying to steady a girl high on heroin. It ended much too soon for Heather.

Paula gaped at her husband. “How did you do that?” She covered her mouth with her hands. “Can you change him back, please. I’m not sure that I want to be married to a transsexual.”

“I’m not quite done yet. I don’t want him bossing you around anymore, but you’re too meek as is,” Heather said.

Paula gained height, quickly matching, and then passing her husband’s new height. When she stopped growing she was a little taller than Heather’s five-six. She kept her curves, but her face lost a few years, making her look like she was in her late twenties. Her clothes changed, becoming flashier and tighter, hugging her body and accentuating her natural endowments. She stood straight, shoulders back, chin high, radiating confidence and femininity. She wore skin tight leather pants and a matching bustier. The heels on her boots looked like they could be used as a weapon. She looked like the kind of woman who’d love a day at the spa, but would kick your ass if you messed with her.

Heather wanted to be nice to Paula, but she also wanted another hit of pleasure. She paused while Mr Whiskers offered her another suggestion. She held her hand out to Abigail, but she shook her head and then walked off toward the cashier table. Heather made another quick change to Paula and was just as quickly rewarded.

Paula squealed as she grabbed her crotch. “I don’t want to be a man.”

“That’s the only part of you that will be male. You’ll need that to give Raymond the proper fucking he deserves.”

“I’m not sure about this.” Paula continued to grope her new addition.

“Give it time. I’m sure that it will grow on you.”

“Oh my,” Paula said as her cock thickened to her touch. She pulled her hands away, holding herself as she watched the bulge in her tights grow larger by the second. “This is very overwhelming.”

“Tell you what. Why don’t you give it a spin. Let Raymond take care of that for you. If you want to go back to the way things were, let me know and I’ll reverse everything.”

Paula’s eyes sparkled as she gazed at her husband with a growing appreciation for his new sexual identity. “That’s a good idea.”

Raymond shook his head as he backed away from his wife, a look of panic on his face. He looked over at Heather and pointed at his mouth which flapped open and closed, soundlessly.

“Go ahead and speak.”

“Please don’t make me do this.” Raymond said in a high pitched falsetto.

Paula slapped his ass. “Get in the car, Rae Rae.”

Raymond leapt forward and then scurried toward the car, maneuvering on his heels with ease. His body language reminded Heather of a timid girl alone on a dark night.

Heather walked over to Abigail. “How do you feel about me being mean with magic now?”

Abigail lay sprawled out on the camp chair, a cigarette hanging loosely in her mouth. “I feel like I just had 50 orgasms in the span of a minute. How are you still standing?”

“Practice I guess.” She ran her tongue over her lips. They felt swollen, reminding her of the time Jimmy had accidently hit her in the mouth with a toy bat and she’d had Angelina Jolie lips for a week.

From their position that could see Paula sitting in the driver’s seat of her cadillac while Raymond stretched across the passenger seat. As soon as she pulled her cock free his eyes lit up. She was better endowed than he’d ever been. He sniffed the air a couple of times and then started drooling. He dove on his wife’s cock, lavishing it with his tongue before taking almost all of it into his mouth. Paula didn’t last long. Which wasn’t surprising since it was her first time. By the look on her face, it wouldn’t be the last. Nor Raymond’s. He wouldn’t pull away. He kept sucking on her until she finally lifted him off her lap. When they returned, Raymond was practically glued to his her side. His looked up at her like a love sick teenager.

“So, I’m guessing that you’re keeping it,” Heather said.

“Definitely. I see why he used to want me to suck his cock all the time.” She gazed at him for a moment before giving him a kiss on the lips. “You certainly like giving them more than I ever did, Rae Rae.”

“I made sure of that. He’s addicted to you, particularly your pheromones and especially the juices from your male bits and female bits. He also has to obey whatever you say. On the surface he is Rae Rae, but deep down he is still Raymond. He’ll remember how he used to be and that he’s being punished. Eventually Raymond will come to terms with his new life and he’ll be fully Rae Rae.” Heather frowned. “At least I think he will. I’m kind of new at this shit.”

Paula watched Abigail smoke. “I used to love smoking after sex, but Raymond made me quit once we got married.

“You’re welcome to one of ours,” Heather said.

“Light me a cigarette, Rae Rae.”

Raymond paused for a moment, looking like he wanted to protest, but then accepted a cigarette from Abigail. He looked over at his wife quickly and then meekly accepted a light. He spat out the smoke in disgust.

“That didn’t taste very good,” Raymond said to his wife as he handed her the cigarette.

“I’m sure that will pass in time,” Paula took a long drag and then exhaled a thick cloud into the air. “I plan on doing this a lot from now on and you’re going to light every one of them for me.”

Raymond bowed his head, submissively.

Paula patted his cheek. “Don’t look glum, this is the start of a beautiful new relationship. Now why don’t you pick out something pretty for yourself while I finish my cigarette?”

Raymond made a beeline for the costume jewelry. He laid out several rings, earrings, bracelets and necklaces and then spent the next several minutes trying to decide which he wanted most. When Paula bought them all he was simultaneously shocked and filled with tremendous joy.

Once she finished paying, Paula grabbed Raymond’s ass. “Let’s get you home, Rae Rae. I’m eager to break in that sweet ass of yours.”

As Paula and Raymond walked hand in hand to their car, Heather took Abigail’s hand in hers. Their shift on the garage sale was over soon. Heather was so horny that she wanted to rip Abigail’s clothes off right there. Knowing that she felt the same way which made the wait even more tortuous. In theory they could start ravishing each right then and there, but anyone could walk up at any moment. She still had some modesty, thank goodness.

Barbara West showed up a few minutes later to relieve them. As she asked the girls how their shift had been she removed a Benson and Hedges cigarette from her purse and lit it, taking a deep puff, looking like she’d been smoking for some time.

“I didn’t know you smoked, Mrs. West,” Abigail said. “I thought you hated smokers.”

“I did, but I decided to try it a couple days ago. I’m glad I did. I really enjoy smoking, don’t you?” Barbara smiled as she brought her cigarette to her mouth for another puff.

Heather remembered Abigail’s reaction to seeing her other neighbors smoking. She’d thought that they’d been non smokers, too. Why were all of Abigail’s neighbors suddenly smoking? Three days ago Barbara had been an ardent non-smoker and today she’s smoking like she’d been doing it for months, if not years. And then there were the guys. She‘d made them kiss on Thursday night and then the following day they were dressed like metrosexuals and then that night Todd gave Kirk a blow job. It seemed to be affecting their roommate, Byron, too. And she’d felt a connection to him, much like the link she’d felt when around Todd and Kirk.

Heather concentrated for a moment, trying to bring up her link to Kathleen. After a moment she felt it, leading off toward Abigail’s house. Then she felt other links, fanning out to the homes around the cul de sac. All of them had Kathleen’s signature, but were decidedly fainter. There was a similar link anchored squarely on Barbara.

“We gotta go.” Heather grabbed Abigail’s hand, pulling her toward her house.

“Thanks for helping out today,” Barbara called after them.

“What’s wrong?” Abigail said.

“Something is seriously fucked up,” Heather said as they hurried up Abigail’s driveway. “And it has something to do with my magic.”

“Somebody’s got a potty mouth!” Abigail said with a giggle.

“This is serious, god dammit! All of your neighbors are becoming smokers right after I turn your mom into one. My magic is out of control.” She struggled not to shout. “I used magic on Jimmy and Donna, remember.”

“It’s probably just a coincidence that Barbara started smoking. I’m not sure that the Donaldsons weren’t smokers already. I just never saw them smoke before today; they could have been secret smokers or something.”

Abigail no longer thought it was a coincidence when she discovered that her father had started smoking, too. He was sitting in the living room, smoking one of Kathleen’s cigarettes while she gave him a blow job. She was dressed in a French maid outfit, complete with stiletto heels and lace bonnet.

“Hello girls. How did the yard sale go?” Gordon asked casually as his wife’s head bobbed up and down on his lap.

“Mom? Is that you?” Abigail shrieked.

Kathleen let her husband’s cock slip out of her mouth with a wet slurp. She turned to the girls. “Yes, it’s me, pumpkin. Were you expecting someone else?” Her costume was made out of a black, shiny material. It was skin tight and displayed most of Kathleen’s ample bosom. She took the cigarette from her husband and took a drag.

“What the hell is going on?”

Kathleen blew a jet of smoke across the living room. “I’m giving your father a blow job.”

“I can see that, Mom. Why are you doing it in the living room and why are you dressed like that? We do have company, you know.”

“Heather is practically part of the family, now why don’t you two run along and play in your room,” Gordon said as he pushed his wife’s head back toward his erection.

Heather flew up the stairs, her tulle skirt whispering as it swished about her legs. She snatched up the prepaid phone off Abigail’s nightstand and called Donna, murmuring, “Please pick up” repeatedly as the phone rang and rang. After a dozen rings she tossed the phone onto the bed and then fell on top of it, sobbing. Abigail sat down next to her and rubbed her back while nibbling on her thumb, wishing she could pour bleach on her brain to wipe out the image of what she’d just witnessed downstairs.

Heather's story - chapter 13