State of ChaosChapter 19 Unintended Consequences
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Pick-Up Line - Unintended Consequences free porn video
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publish this story, intact and with the attribution to
Ellie Dauber (below) so long as the site remains free. I do
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thus, such sites do not have permission to host this story.
Published with the gratefully acknowledged permission of
Ellie Dauber, whose wonderful story, Pick-up Line,
copyright 2000, is the basis and inspiration for this tale.
Characters and situations from that story are used in this
one, again with Ellie's expressed permission. Pick-Up Line
is archived at Fictionmania.
If you have not recently read Ellie's story, you might want
to do so before reading this tale, as it will make the
situation between the two primary protagonists more clear.
If you have never read it, and especially if you like
innovative, very creative magic-based stories, then for
heavens sake, run to FM right now and pull up Ellie's
story.
Again, thank you, Ellie, for letting me publish this tale.
Pick-Up Line - Unintended Consequences
By Tigger
Copyright 2003, all rights reserved.
Sarah Mather winced, even as she kicked the 'just-too-
tight' high heel from her left foot. That hurt so good that
she kicked away its mate with even more force. When the
right shoe's stiletto heel left a dent and a mark on the
far wall of her foyer, she winced again.
She was just so... so FRUSTRATED, and tonight's abortive
date had done NOTHING to relieve that condition. Goddess
above, the damned man had nearly fallen asleep in his
tiramisu, and he'd all but shoved her along 'escorting' her
to her door at the (very damned) early conclusion of their
'date'.
With the unconscious grace of a dancer, the strawberry
blonde padded into her den, stopping at the Early American
sideboard that doubled as her bar. She reached for a
wineglass, decided that white wine wouldn't answer the need
burning in her belly, and poured three fingers of twelve-
year-old single malt scotch into a crystal glass.
She took her drink over to the almost-masculine leather
armchair that faced the hearth, and settled into it.
"Dammit!" she fumed into the silent room, "Another one!"
It had been like all her other recent non-experiences, she
mused. One minute, everything was going fine, and then,
nothing - as if a switch had been thrown, or as if her
deodorant, mouthwash, and conversational social skills had
all died on her at the same instant.
Almost like magic.
That fleeting thought sent an icy frisson of dread racing
up and down the leggy woman's spine. That was a very
unnerving, if not frightening, possibility. Was she under
some type of spell? Unlike most modern women, Sarah Mather
of Salem, Massachusetts, did not discount that possibility
out of hand. With a simple gesture, she set the logs laid
in her hearth aflame.
No, Sarah thought as she savored the aged whiskey from her
glass, she couldn't ignore the possibility that she was
under some type of magical attack. After all, she was a
witch, and knew the truth - Power... Magic was real.
But what was the point of such an attack? Mischief,
perhaps? Or was this some fellow practitioner of the
Craft's idea of a joke? If so, it had damn sure ceased to
be funny. She was SO... HORNY! Heavens, earlier tonight it
had taken all the self control she could muster not to grab
her erstwhile date by his damned regimentally striped tie
and drag him to HER bed.
Stars, but she hadn't gotten any loving of any type since
her last business trip - since her last little adventure as
Harry D?Ambriso. She'd changed that little Hispanic lounge
lizard into a dark-eyed, very curvy and very needy Latina
for the night and then had given him a much- deserved
lesson in gentlemanly behavior.
That had been good, she thought, remembering their heated
passion with a smile. It had been VERY good, but at the
same time, it just wasn't the same! Sex as Harry was so
very different than it was for her as Sarah, and in truth,
she found sex more fulfilling as a woman. Sex as a man was
a treat - like a rich chocolate mousse. It was very tasty,
and in a pinch, it could fill her up if she ate enough of
it, but afterwards, her body was still hungry, still
demanding nourishment. Sex as a woman, on the other hand,
well, that was the main course - a smorgasbord.
Goddess, when had she last had her fill?
Sarah Mather considered that question. Harry got HIS rocks
off, but Sarah wasn't getting hers. Tonight's little
debacle made for, what? Five? Or was it six? - Yes, it WAS
six promising candidates for her favors, dammit! Six
attractive, intelligent men who had each made the effort to
catch her attention (and that of her hormones), to get her
to accept their offer of dinner or dancing or a show - all
of which had be very nice, too. Very nice, that is, up
until she'd decided she was ready to allow her companion to
coax her into his bed. Then every damned one of them had
just... lost interest, and THAT had NEVER happened to her
before.
She wasn't promiscuous, but she had always enjoyed men and
enjoyed having sex with ones who interested her. In fact,
before this little dry spell, whenever Sarah Mather had
decided she wanted a specific man, that man was as good as
'got'. Just as importantly, she made sure he enjoyed their
assignations just as much as she did. In addition to being
a beautiful, visually exciting woman, she was also a
skilled, giving and enthusiastic lover who gave as good or
better than she received.
Considering that, she set her glass aside. Why Sarah and
not Harry? Magic reared its ugly specter again, because the
effects of many spells were gender-specific - sometimes
even specific to a single individual. Harry was a different
person than Sarah, and he was damn-sure different in
gender. That had been the whole point of becoming him,
hadn't it?
Was she under some type of spell, Sarah wondered yet again?
"Well, there's only one way to find out," she told herself.
Sarah Mather drew her legs up beneath her and composed her
mind for meditation. Then, she remembered that this might
be some type of attack from an assailant of unknown
potential and purpose. She would need to exercise caution
until she had determined that potential and that purpose.
Rising from the chair, Sarah went to the guest bedroom that
doubled as her sanctum. She gathered the necessary tools,
herbs and charms, and then settled in the middle of the
darkened room. With a few words, she cast a candle- lighted
circle to protect herself from further outside influence.
To do what needs be done, she needed to open herself
mentally, emotionally and spiritually, and would thus be
vulnerable without the protection of a circle.
The familiar ritual centered her, relaxed her. Sarah
removed her clothes and knelt sky-clad in the center of her
circle. At last fully prepared, she let her senses - both
physical and metaphysical - free and began the search for
signs of a mystic attack.
~-~
Several hours later, Sarah returned to herself. There was
indeed magic at the center of all this, and she had been
able to identify the source of the 'attack' on her love
life.
Only she didn't want to believe the evidence she'd
uncovered.
The source of her recent lack of love was herself.
Shakily, Sarah rose to her feet, and carefully closed the
circle. It took her a few more moments to put away her
tools and charms, but it was time she needed.
Then, she picked up her phone and speed-dialed a number.
When the phone was answered, she nearly sobbed. "Nell? It's
Sarah. Something's happening to me... something bad, and...
and I don't know what it is. I need help. Can... can you
come here? Please?"
She did sob when Nell said she was already on her way out
the door.
~-~
Eleanora Ripley was a still-attractive, very regal woman of
'mature years'. Her once honey-blond hair had long ago gone
to ash, but the rest of her still easily passed for the
mid-forties age to which she admitted when pressed. Among
those who knew and loved her, it was an open secret that
'Nell' had admitted to that age for more than twenty-five
years.
She was also the woman who had trained a very young Sarah
Mather in the hidden mysteries of the Craft, teaching her
how to control and live with a power that was often both
overwhelming and frightening.
Now, she sat across the kitchen table from her most
powerful pupil, sipping jasmine tea, her normally smooth
forehead wrinkled in concern. "You are, of course, right,
dear - about both the source of the power and its effect on
you."
"But WHY, Nell? Why would I DO such a thing to myself?
Goddess, why don't I remember DOING it?"
The older woman touched hands with Sarah, offering comfort.
"I think, Sarah, because you didn't do it. Not in the way
that you mean."
Confusion flashed in the younger woman's eyes. "What? But
you said..."
"I said, you were correct in that you are - yourself - the
source of the power that is... inhibiting your love life.
It's the power of 'One Times Three' that is at the center
of this. Something you did to another, using the Power, is
coming back on you one times three."
"But... but, Nell, I would never do something like that...
misuse the Craft like that. You know key principals of the
ethical use of power - you TAUGHT them to me! First and
foremost is 'And if it harm none', and by the Goddess, I
haven't! I COULDN'T have done that."
The witch-matriarch heard the plea in her pupil's voice,
but could only shake her head. "And yet, you obviously have
done, my dear. Your current state, and both our
examinations of you prove that you have. Your own power is
behind your problem. What other explanation fits the data?"
Sarah's look was at first mutinous, but only for a moment.
"All right, I suppose there isn't any other explanation,
but I don't KNOW what it is I did! How can I fix what I
don't know about?"
"A difficult problem, that," the senior witch murmured
thoughtfully. "And you say that you, in your Harry persona,
have no difficulty... ah, performing?"
"None, although..." Sarah's eyes went momentarily unfocused
before finishing, "when you think about it more fully, it's
not really a performance issue when I'm Sarah, is it? It's
a lack of opportunity to perform."
"True," Nell said approvingly, "Very true. Still, there's
nothing you've done, as part of your little 'learning
experiences' for the young Lotharios that is long lasting
or involves some type of residual magic?"
Sarah considered that, and shook her head. "No. Not really.
I was tempted to leave a magical tracer on the first guy,
Lou Prescott, because his pick-up line was so trite and
annoying, but in the end I decided against it."
Nell considered that and frowned. "When was the last time
you - that is, as Sarah - enjoyed sexual relations with a
man? In relation to the time you started giving various men
the opportunity to reflect upon the differences between a
meat market pickup and a properly romantic experience?"
Sarah started to answer, and then stopped. Nell watched as
the younger woman's eyes closed tightly in concentration
only to snap wide open. "Stars, Nell, my last time was
about two weeks before Lou."
"Then there must be a connection, dear. I have an idea,
but..."
"But WHAT?"
"It requires you to let me delve past your public mind - to
intrude upon your most basic personal privacy."
"Is that all?" Sarah asked. "If that's what it takes, then
I'm all for it. Besides, I trust you more than anyone,
including myself, just now."
"Very well. Let's go to your sanctum and cast another
circle. This is not something I care to attempt without
every magical protection and ward."
~-~
"It was a bit different than you said earlier, dear," the
ash-blonde said when they'd returned to the spacious
kitchen. "You did more than threaten to keep track of him.
What you told him, and I quote, was 'Because I didn't end
the spell that I cast on you, Lou. I just de-activated it.
You try using a dumb pick-up line on _any_ woman ever
again, and it re-activates, and, Lou? I will know if the
spell re-activates, and I will make _very_ sure that you
can't find me to _ever_ change you back.'"
"But I didn't DO anything like that. I just told him that
to make him stop and think before he tried one of those
lame pick-up lines on some other woman."
"The philosopher, Karl Popper once wrote that 'There are
always unintended consequences to well-intentioned acts.'
Sarah. I would say that it is entirely possible that you
are suffering from one of those consequences, magnified one
times three, because your Power is, or rather was, the
initial vector. Suppose the experience of sex as a woman
was having some injurious effect on his ability to perform
as a man with a woman?"
Sarah's eyes went wide in shock. "No, I mean... but, Nell,
that's not how my problem is manifesting itself. I'm fairly
certain I could perform just fine if things ever got far
enough, and I interact with men just fine - until I decide
I'm ready to jump their bones, that is."
"Sarah, puh-leeze, a little decorum, please."
"Yes, Nell," Sarah teased, smiling for the first time that
evening, and feeling grateful to her mentor for the little
silliness. "But, the facts are that I can't get the guy to
come up to the mark at the final moment."
"Well, I'm not sure the backlash would necessarily be
identical to what happened to the victim..."
"Did you have to use that word?" Sarah asked sadly,
"Victim?"
"If the shoe fits, dear," Nell replied. "However, suppose
your subject is now afraid to approach a woman with the
hopes of, ah, physical intimacy? It would be rather off-
putting to make a move and suddenly be as feminine as his
intended."
"Unless he was at a gay bar - yes, I can see your point.
So, I guess I have to find Mr. Prescott, then, and assure
him that he's not going to... cross over the gender line
the first time he asks a woman if it hurt when she fell out
of heaven?"
A sad look came over Eleanora, and she shook her head. "I'm
afraid it's more than that, Sarah. You have to somehow make
amends for the harm caused him."
"How am I going to do THAT, Nell? Provide him with six
months worth of missed opportunities? Listen to all his bad
lines and not turn him into a toad?"
The elder witch shook her head. "I don't know, either, but
if we're correct, then you'll have to find some way to earn
his forgiveness, or you'll be coitus unavailabus for the
rest of Sarah's life."
"Damn."
"I'm afraid so, dear."
~-~
"Nell?" Sarah's voice had a hint of something akin to
hysteria as she spoke into her cell phone. "He's
disappeared. I spoke with the bartender at the Chapman? He
doesn't remember seeing Lou more than a couple of times
since... since I changed him into Lucy. I used Power to
find out where Lou lived, and he's moved. Quit his job,
too."
"Oh, dear. I'm beginning to be disappointed that you didn't
put a psychic tracer on him. What are you going to do
next?"
"Check the post office? See if he's left a forwarding
address. I can get that from the clerk's public mind
without intruding on their privacy. If that doesn't work, I
may need to ask our Sisters to help with a Seeking. I have
restitution to make, and I have to know where he is to do
that."
"I'll call a couple of my friends, Sarah, and let them know
the circumstances. If you need us, we'll be here for you."
"Thanks," Sarah replied, and Nell thought she could hear
relief in her tone, now. "I've got to run. See you soon."
~-~
Two days later, a very weary, very depressed Sarah Mather
pulled into the drive of her elegant Salem home. Lou had
simply disappeared, telling the post office that he'd send
them a forwarding address when he had one to give them.
Fatigue was heavy on her as she headed up the walk to her
door, which was why she didn't sense the presence of
another.
"Hello, Ms. Mather," a familiar voice said to her.
Sarah spun about, her eyes wide. "Lou?!? Is that really
you?"
"I could answer that I don't know who else I could be,
except, we both know who else I have been," the handsome
young man said, an odd, almost bashful smile on his face.
"So I won't do that. Yes, Ms. Mather, it's me - Lou
Prescott."
Sarah surprised them both by sweeping him up in a tight
hug, and the pushing back to shake him. "Where have you
BEEN?!? I've been looking all over for you!"
"You have?" Lou's eyes were wide, and he started to pull
back, but Sarah held on.
"I have, and now, I've found you - or rather, I guess
you've found me. Come inside, I want to talk to you."
Lou resisted her efforts to pull him along with her, and
for the first time, she saw the conflicted emotions in his
aura - some type of need that had brought him here, but at
odds with an almost palpable fear. Well, she thought, I
don't have to guess what is at the root of that emotion.
"Come in, please," she repeated, more gently. "I promise
that I will do nothing to you except give you a drink, and
ask a few questions. I promise that it will be Lou and not
Lucy who leaves when we've finished."
Something flickered in the young man's eyes, but he nodded.
"Oh... okay. Ummm, thanks... For the offer of a drink, that
is."
~-~
"Seven and Seven?" Sarah asked as she pointed at the array
of bottles and decanters on her sidebar. "As I recall,
that's what you ordered at the Chapman Hotel bar."
"Umm, just the Seven, please."
Sarah laughed at that. "Which Seven, Lou? The soda or the
whiskey?"
"Oh..." he blushed furiously - something that Sarah found
strangely endearing. "The Seven-Up, please. I've, ah, given
up the hard stuff."
Sarah filled two tall glasses with crushed ice and then
slowly poured the soda over the ice, all the while thinking
about how best to approach the upcoming interview. She
wasn't ready, dammit. She was as off-balance as he
evidently was because this was the very LAST place she
expected to find him - or have him find her. Maybe that was
the tactic, she thought.
Handing him his drink, she offered him his choice of seats
and was surprised when he passed up her heavy armchair in
favor of the small Victorian-styled settee opposite the
chair. She considered sitting down on the settee herself,
but decided at the last minute that, being a male, he might
find that an infringement of his personal space, and so,
took the chair herself.
"Mind telling me how and why you found me?"
For a long moment, he didn't answer, simply stared down at
the gently fizzing liquid in his glass. When he finally did
speak, it was in a very low voice. "Through the hotel. You
told me you kept a room there. When I decided I needed to
find you, I got a part time job there - weekends on the
reservations desk, evenings and nights as front desk watch,
that kind of stuff. Anyway, eventually, I got access to
their computer files. That made getting your address easy."
"I see," Sarah murmured, taking a sip of her drink to
soothe a suddenly very dry throat. "Well, that explains
how, but not the why."
"That's a harder question," he replied, carefully. "I... I
decided I needed to talk to you again. I needed..." Lou's
voice broke, and for the next moment, seemed to struggle to
compose himself.
Sarah felt an almost overwhelming need to go to him, to
comfort him, but fought it back. She wasn't sure he'd
accept it from her in any case. Finally, she could stand
the silence no longer. "Needed, what, Lou? How can I help
you? CAN I help you?"
"I don't know," he finally admitted.
Should I tell him I know about his... enforced celibacy?
Tell him that it is not necessary any longer, Sarah
wondered? Or would that only make things worse? I can't
make him forget because that would be the worst sort of
intrusion and that IS doing harm. Damn, what a coil.
"Look, the, ah, spell you put on me," he began, and then
rushed on, "you said you wouldn't let me find you, wouldn't
help me if I, well, became Lucy again."
"Yes," Sarah replied, even as she winced inwardly, "I did
say that, but, Lou, I wouldn't do that to you, to anyone. I
was... overset and unduly cross when I said that, and I
shouldn't have done that. I am sorry."
"Oh, I see." He stopped speaking and thought for a few
moments, before looking at her, considering. "And you DID
say I would leave here today as Lou, didn't you?"
"I did, but what's that got to do with your problem?"
Lou set aside his drink, stood up, and walked over to stand
in front of Sarah's chair. He made a show of looking around
the top of her suddenly confused head, and then patted her
back. "How does an angel like you hide her wings and halo?"
he asked, grinning.
When she just gaped up at him in disbelief, he blushed
again, only to realize that nothing had happened. "Maybe
that was too subtle," he muttered and then looked at her
again. "Wanna come up and see my etchings, pretty lady?"
When nothing happened, his face turned vividly red, and
Sarah could not suppress the giggle at his dismay. "For not
subtle, that was pretty good, Lou. Now, why the hell are
you trying to reactivate the spell?"
He didn't answer, just turned away, and then started to
rush for the door. With an instinctive flick of Power,
Sarah locked and sealed the door to the den just before Lou
could jerk it open. When he turned to face her, his eyes
were wide with emotion, and her heart ached for him - more
than that - her heart yearned for him.
Oh, Goddess, she thought in wonder, I'm in love with the
big lug. Now what do I do?!
Moving slowly, she went to stand before him. "Do you want
to become a woman, Lou?" she asked very gently. "Is that
what this is all about?"
Tears coursed down his cheeks now as he faced her, his hand
still behind him, gripping the unyielding doorknob. "Yes...
I mean, no, I mean, hell... sort of... I guess."
A chuckle burbled up before Sarah could squelch it. "That's
pretty clear. I understand perfectly."
That brought a shy smile to Lou's face. "Wish I did -
understand perfectly, I mean. Actually, what I wanted was
to become your cousin again. At least as Lucy, I'd maybe
get to see you sometimes - be around you. And, well..."
"And well, what?"
"The time with Harry... it was, well, okay, and I guess..."
Sarah could tell he was mortified, but determined now to
have his say. "Well, I figured that you might become Harry
again... to my Lucy, and that would be almost as good... I
mean, just as good as being Lou with... ummm, with you."
Sarah felt like she'd been kicked in the gut, or perhaps,
more accurately, in the heart. It took her several seconds
to get enough breath to ask the question that was now
foremost on her mind. "Are you trying to say that... that
you... want me? That way?"
"Want is a pretty wimpy word. A year ago, I didn't believe
in love, you know? It was a good word for getting in with a
girl, a nice way of prettying up good hard, sweaty,
mutually satisfying sex but that was about it. I've learned
differently. Yes, Sarah Mather, Witch-Lady-Extraordinaire,
I want you THAT way. I'm also head over heels in love with
you, and if being Lucy is the way get to be near you...
well, that's the way I want it."
Her heart was so far up into her throat, it was a wonder
Sarah could breathe, let alone speak. "Lucy's... good," she
managed to croak out finally, "but, I think, that Lou would
be even better... if you don't mind."
"Lou? You WANT me as LOU?"
Tears in her eyes, Sarah hurried over to throw herself into
Lou's surprised arms. "Someone just said that 'want is a
pretty wimpy word'. I agree," she said between franticly
needy kisses. "I love you, Lou Prescott. Now, why don't you
use that settee over there to show me what Harry didn't get
right with Lucy?"
"You're sure?" Lou asked, incredulous. "Right now?"
"If you expect to get out of here alive, Mister!" she
growled in a voice that sounded very feline.
Lou scooped the leggy witch up and strode over to the
settee. Both would need new clothes later to replace the
ones that would momentarily be suited only for the rag bin.
~-~
"So, you're saying that my monk-like existence carried over
into your life, because of this witchcraft feedback thing?"
Lou asked, as he scooped a gooey spoon of ice cream, fudge
and whipped cream into his mouth. Both lovers had been as
ravenous for food after their interlude as they had been
for each other during it.
"That's the way it works - what you do to others comes back
on you one times three. You weren't getting any, so neither
was I."
"Well, after meeting you, none of the other women seemed to
be worth taking the chance on. Eventually, I realized that
I was the victim of that old movie cliche - love at first
sight."
"I'm glad, because so was I, evidently. You just were smart
enough to realize it before I did."
Lou set his spoon down, and cast a worried look at Sarah.
"This one times three-thing - that isn't the reason you
love me, is it?"
Smiling, she shook her head so vigorously that her
strawberry blond tresses whipped about. "No, Lou-love, I
love you because I love you. Love is beyond Power, beyond
the Craft. Love is sacred and sacrosanct."
Relieved, he ate another spoonful of ice cream. "What about
Lucy?"
Sarah leaned over to lick away a dribble of fudge that had
escaped her lover's mouth. "What about her?"
"Well, in hindsight, it was, well, nice - being her... with
Harry. NOT..." he hurried on, "that I'd want to be her all
the time, but as a treat? Sometimes?"
"Like a gooey dessert every once in awhile?" Sarah asked,
grinning broadly, "Like these sundaes or maybe, a very rich
chocolate mousse?"
A relieved smile lit Lou's face. "Exactly!" he agreed. "Can
we do that? I mean, can YOU do that?"
"Oh, I think I can come up with something," she assured
him. Lou watched as she began speaking in the strange
language he remembered from the hotel, and making gestures
with her hands. Then, she stopped, and picked up her ice
cream.
Lou looked at his hands, his chest, his crotch, and then at
Sarah. "Nothing happened! Maybe you need that sexy green
robe you wore at the Chapman?"
"Sky-clad works, too, dear."
"Sky-clad? But you're naked," he countered.
"So I am, and something DID happen. I gave you control of
the change. All you have to do is concentrate on being
Lucy, and voila, instant girl. Concentrate on Lou, and
presto-chango, you're again a penis-carrying member of the
male sex." She grinned mischievously. "Lucky me."
"Oh." Lou closed his eyes, and thought of being Lucy. There
it was, the tingling, same as before, along with the
ticking at his ears and the back of his neck, and the
fullness and feeling of sensitivity in his chest.
Or rather, in HER chest. "Oh, my," Lucy purred.
Sarah all but leered at her now-feminine lover. "Want to
reacquaint yourself with Harry, sexy, or try your luck at
some girl/girl love?"
"Oh, how about Harry now, and girl/girl sooner as opposed
to later?" was the wantonly suggestive response.
Seconds later, Lucy found herself looking up at the
laughing eyes of Sarah, but with Harry's face. "Just...
One... thing..." she breathed, in between mind-numbing
kisses and caresses.
"And what is that, Lucy-Lou?"
"What about babies?"
"Sarah's selfish, love, she wants them all. Besides..."
Lucy's eyes nearly crossed as Harry covered her with one,
smooth move, but she held on to the unfinished thought,
"Besides... WHAT?"
"If Sarah has them, they'll all be witches, too."
"Oh, that... ummm," Lucy squirmed as Harry's fingertips
grazed down her flanks, "ah, oh yeah, that works."
"Thought it might. Now, angel," Harry's 'Sarah-eyes'
twinkled mischievously, "Since _I'm_ the witch and you're
not, let me ask you a question."
"Only if you HURRY UP ABOUT IT!" Lucy demanded, as her hips
bucked insistently against her lover.
"So, if I tell you that you have a gorgeous body, would you
hold it against me?"
"Ooooooh yeeeaahhhhh..."
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