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Standard warning and disclaimer: All characters are fictional. If you see
yourself, buy a new mirror. Contains subjects some people may find offensive. If
you are one of them, why are you reading this? Protect your kids. If you are
worried about them reading this sort of material, please censor free speech and
use a safe surfing program such as net nanny. Or better yet, teach them early
and lovingly to understand and accept different lifestyles. Before they learn
from bad experiences.
All constructive comments are welcome. Please e-mail to me:
[email protected] or [email protected]
Finally, this is a piece of adult fiction. If you are underage, or if you find
it offensive, please go elsewhere. Quickly.
Majic-1
By Samantha Michelle
Copyright 2000
I sighed wearily as I packed the last of the order for shipment. Durned wizard
wannabees, order every oddity from the catalog, thinking they could cast spells
from the old books. Most couldn't read a Dick and Jane novel without stuttering,
let alone manage Sanskrit. So what if some earned the Darwin award. Most just
turned into something ugly. Like politicians or leeches. And there is a
difference. Leeches have medicinal uses. Yes, the orders were profitable. But
nowhere near as lucrative as simple bulk orders. And trying to fill out the new
EPA HAZMAT shipping paperwork for each individual order got old really fast. Try
finding vampire bat wings in their charts.
Samantha wriggled her way out of the big cooler with a scowl marring her pretty
face. "JoAnn, the next idiot who orders nightshade pollen is going to get a
bunch of stinkweed pollen as a bonus." She went to wash herself off. "When are
they going to learn that the pollen is no better than the hood, which costs
less?" She put a small, carefully sealed glass vial in a special padded box, and
sealed the box with security tape. "And is a heck of a lot easier and safer to
handle. Poison label?" I nodded. "That'll cost them eighteen extra." She
completed the invoice, and tossed the box in the FedEx bin.
Things were finally getting back to abnormal here at J&S Apothecary and Alchemy
supply. It had been three weeks since Seamus, that loose-leaf leprechaun, and
the tit-happy Wizard over at SRU decided to resume their feud. We were at ground
zero when their latest booby traps went off simultaneously on the UPS truck,
which was, unfortunately, parked at our loading dock.
The poor driver never had a chance. He, now she, was able to find work at the
hospital pediatrics ward. Our protection spells and other safeguards kept
his/her mind intact. But with four cantaloupe-sized breasts on her five-six
frame, and a milk output measured in quarts per day, it was really her only
option.
I smiled at the memory. The worker's compensation types went ballistic, and
tried to claim it was not job-related. Her union had ties to the underworld, and
I don't mean the Mafia. So she now gets a pension, a large stipend to cover her
special clothes and bras, and an apartment with an automatic milking machine.
She really doesn't like the situation, but since anytime she is being suckled
she orgasms, she seems to have trouble voicing complaints. Or anything else
intelligible.
Not that we got off unscathed.
"JoAnn, wiggle your ample ass over to the alarm panel, and set the timer so we
can get out of here, I want to go swimming for some relaxation." Sam was still
annoyed that she was no longer a member of the men's swim team at the
University. And if she hit the beach the way I expected she was planning, she
would be the only one relaxed.
I sealed the door with a wave, and we pried ourselves into my new truck.
Samantha could get her well-muscled 44-inch hips into the older jeep, but my 48-
inch hips and huge chest just didn't fit. Every time I moved, the horn beeped,
and I needed a crane to pry my butt out. Not to mention what the seat belt felt
like. So I had the seats in the new truck especially made to fit our derrieres,
and the racing harness seat belts were tailored to keep them off our breasts.
Soon we had woven our way through traffic, and were headed up the highway. Even
if it was an hour's drive in bad weather, we still loved living in the country.
I wondered how I was going to shovel snow with these dammed tits in the way.
Sam's voice brought me back to reality. "JoAnn, what did the letter from the
Wizards Council say about changing us back?" I sighed. I was afraid she had seen
the envelope.
"The same things our insurance agent told us. They can reverse any spell cast by
another Wizard, given a bit of time. But the fey are out of their jurisdiction."
She slumped in her seat. She really hated being a member of the pantyhose set,
especially since her period started this afternoon. "What happened is not
against their code, so the fey couldn't care less. And if what the Wizards
Council said is correct, changing us back will require both the original Wizard
and Seamus working together. Which means we're stuck."
"What about getting another transformation to, well, at least a reasonable
size?" She hefted one of her DDD's in their harness.
"Way too risky. They tried a simple one on the driver. She grew a cup size
instead. You could wind up hauling yours around in a wheelbarrow."
"I don't want to be a damned girl."
"You've got PMS. And don't tell me you haven't enjoyed being one big erogenous
zone. I've listened to you in the shower. And the kitchen, and in the storeroom
at work, and..."
"Okay, so not everything is bad. But wait till you start your period, which
should be very soon. That'll change your attitude." I didn't want to think about
it. Just moving with a wide-load sign on my butt and a rack that would make a
moose jealous was bad enough. I cringed, remembering closing the hood on my tits
last week. And I was supposed to get them squashed flatter than that for a
mammogram? Owww.
We pulled into out little patch of wilderness. Negotiating the gravel drive and
walk was a pain in five-inch heels. Another of the side effects. Neither of us
could wear shoes without towering heels. The doctor said our Achilles tendons
had shrunk so much that regular shoes were not an option. And the heels, plus
our ridiculous hips and tiny waists, made us swivel and sway like streetwalkers
with dildos shoved up their butts.
Speaking of dildos, I needed to get longer lasting batteries for my vibrator.
Multiple orgasms were some solace for the ills of womanhood.
Inside we headed upstairs to change, and get ready to head for the beach. I
wondered how many guys would get slapped ogling us. Samantha and I did our
weekly inspections to make sure we were not still changing. Standing there
naked, we were making each other so dammed horny it was painful.
The measurements were stable. Sam was a breathtaking 44-20-44 with a 38DDD cup,
all on a five-six frame. I wished the Wizard was not so boob-crazy. I was 50-24-
48 with a 42H cup, and almost six feet even. Add on the five or more inch heels,
and I looked like a top heavy Amazon. Move over, Wonder Woman. And neither of us
was the tiniest bit overweight. With our ankles touching, we still had an inch
of clearance between our upper thighs. Where something else used to reside.
I twitched, and then started to drip. Despite my male mind, I kept having this
urge to put something large and warm, and very active, between my thighs. I
looked at Sam, and she was fingering herself. "You too?"
She pulled her fingers out, and looked guilty. "I can't help it. I'm not gay,
dammit, but I really want some guy to jump me and screw my brains out."
I laughed. "Me too. And the way we look, gay sure doesn't apply." She wrinkled
her nose, nodded, and went back to fingering herself. After the sound effects
stopped, I mentioned she was on the rag, and needed to do some cleanup. That got
a screech, and she ran for the bathroom. Just then I got a cramp, and knew it
was my turn. At least I knew enough to take a Motrin at the first sign.
We put off the trip to the beach. By Sunday I was feeling human again, and the
forecast was for warm and sunny. So we put on our new, custom-made suits and
headed for the dunes. Mine was full coverage, with a built-in super-support bra.
Samantha, like most teenagers, let her hormones do the shopping. So her almost
translucent one-piece combined all the best attributes of a WonderBra and a
thong. And a Swiss cheese. It was so tight I was afraid she would sneeze and
kill someone with the shrapnel. At least she wore a wrap in the truck.
Her trip across the beach in that suit, combined with the five-inch platform
beach sandals, was breathtaking. I wondered if we could get commissions from
divorce lawyers. And maybe Chiropractors specializing in sore necks. My bobble,
wobble, wiggle, swivel, and jiggle trip was almost anticlimactic. Except for the
guys with their hands shoved in their suits. I wished I were one of them. And
almost came from the friction as I walked.
What happened once we put up the canopy and started swimming is another story...
The End
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