Well He Was So Persistent
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The Persistent Spell free porn video
The Persistent Spell
BY: PYT
"I don't get it," said Jerry, leaning an elbow on the cafeteria table,
"Is that some kind of date rape drug?"
"It's way better than that crap," I said. "Listen to me boys: once I give
this stuff to Lisa, she'll get hers."
"You're shitting us, right Brad? That's just Kool-aid, right?" said Leo.
"Have a look," I handed the little vial to Leo. "Shake it."
Leo shook it and the liquid went from blue to pink. Leo looked puzzled.
"Kool-aid doesn't do that," said Jerry.
"It sure as hell doesn't," I said.
"Where'd you say you got that stuff?" said Leo.
"I told you a guy in a bathrobe."
"Is it safe?" asked Jerry.
"Why should I care? I'm not taking it. She is."
Lisa came into the cafeteria with two of her cheerleading friends. I
smiled. They all looked damned hot in their sweaters and short skirts. I
had already bagged Lisa's friends: Nathalie, last semester, and, Jill,
sophomore year. As a senior and the star quarterback for the football
team, I had no problem getting the hottest girls in school. It was like
shooting ducks in a barrel. Except for Lisa.
A few days ago at the Frosty Mug, where everybody hung out after school,
I asked her to go to the homecoming dance with me. What was the big deal,
right? She could take some pretty pictures and I would fuck her brains
out. I was pretty smooth and thought it was going okay until she said, "I
know what kind of guy you are Brad Smith and you should know I'm not that
kind of girl." I didn't give up, but the conversation ended with her
yelling, "I wouldn't go out with you if you were the last boy in the
world!" She got up and dumped her shake on me.
"What the fuck? You bitch!"
Needless to say, the shop was full and I was pretty embarrassed.
Nobody makes a fool out of me.
I gave the vial to Jake behind the lunch counter so that he could dump it
on her food. I didn't have to pay him anything. He knew I'd kick his ass
if he messed up.
I watched Lisa get her plate. She took a seat and started eating. I was
pretty excited. Before long, she would get hers. I didn't see any reason
to hang around; it was just a matter of time now, so I left.
After school, I was on the way to football practice. Lisa was at her
locker as I passed by. I grabbed her butt.
"Hey, hot cheeks," I said.
"Get away from me, you loser!" she said slapping me away.
I guess the spell wasn't in effect yet. Or maybe the whole thing was a
sham. I didn't know, but if it was a sham I would find the guy that
gave the vial and kick his teeth in.
I drank the Gatorade in my backpack and walked to the gym.
I should have known that something wasn't right, but it was such a small
thing. How could I? In my football locker, I kept a little sheet with all
my stats from junior high up to last year. Last year was my best ever. I
threw 22 touchdowns and only five interceptions. But that's not what my
lucky sheet said. It said I had thrown 13 touchdowns and nine
interceptions.
"Who's been fucking with my stuff?" I yelled. The other guys in the
locker room just kind of looked at me and continued putting on their
uniforms.
I didn't feel like myself in the weight room. I was never the strongest
guy there--I was the QB, I didn't have to be--but I could handle myself.
I did some squats, arm curls and leg presses, the usual stuff, but
everything was harder than normal. I had to lower the weight on most of
them. I lay down to do some bench presses and nearly killed myself when I
couldn't get the bar off of my chest.
Leo and Jerry ran over and put the bar back in the safety position. I
stood up struggling to catch my breath.
"Dude, use a spotter next time," said Jerry.
What was going on? Most days I would bench 250 pounds and not break a
sweat. I looked back at the bench. I only had 200 on the bar now. And did
Jerry and Leo both seem taller somehow? I was 6'3" and they, being
linemen were a bit bigger and taller, but I don't remember having to look
up very much to talk to them.
Out on the practice field, I was off. I made the easy throws well enough,
but my specialty was the long ball. Yet, every time I tried to throw a
slot or a post or a Hail Mary, the ball fell short.
"What's the matter with you today, Brad?" asked Coach Simpkins. "You're
throwing ducks out there. Dead ones."
"I don't know. I've been feeling kind of funny," I said. "Maybe I have
the flu."
"Go home and get better," he said.
I pulled my pick-up into the driveway at home. Hopping off of the running
board, I looked back at it. It was a great truck. Me and the guys had put
off-road tires on it and jacked-up the suspension over the summer. We
spent most weekends cruising around the lake for girls. It was still
covered in mud.
I went inside. Mom was making dinner and my nerdy kid sister, Lizzie, was
helping.
"Hi, honey. How was practice?"
"It was fine," I said, flicking hair out of my face.
"Are you okay? You look pale," she felt my forehead. "You don't feel hot.
Go lie down."
"Brad's got hair like a girl," said Billy, my bratty little brother. I
chased him intending to kick his ass, but he ran up the stairs too fast.
"Hey, goldilocks, you're too slow."
I went to my room and looked in the mirror. My hair was pretty damned
straight...and long. I turned around in the mirror. I couldn't quite see
the back, but I guessed it hung down a couple of inches past my shoulder.
It wasn't a mullet either. It was long all over. I didn't know what had
happened, but I had a game in two days. I didn't want to be laughed off
of the field.
I grabbed a pair of scissors and started cutting. When I finished
cutting, I pulled off my shirt and made a muscle with my arm. It looked
kinda small. I needed to spend more time in the weight room. I was
starting to look more like a member of the track team than the star
quarterback.
I checked my hair out. I didn't do a great job, but at least it was
short. I collapsed on the bed in my school clothes and fell asleep.
I hit the weight room before school. I might as well have been lifting
elephants. Every time lifted a weight it felt heavier than before. I gave
up after about 20 minutes.
School was school. I saw Lisa in Home Economics II, a class I took
because it was a guaranteed 'A.' Lisa gave me cold shoulder again. I was
beginning to think this spell thing was some kind of joke.
Then something impossible happened. At the end of class, as I leaned over
to grab my book sack someone dropped a mop on me. That was my first
thought. I sat back and realized that it wasn't a mop, but hair?lots of
hair. I pulled it back out of my face, but there was so much of it. I
jumped out of my chair and stood up. "It's not a mop, but a wig," I
thought as I yanked at a clump of strands. "Ow!"
"What's the matter, Brad?" asked Dylan Mascle. Dylan was a jokester, so I
immediately thought that he had somehow glued this wig to my head when I
wasn't paying attention. I grabbed him by his lapels and tried to lift
him, one of my classic moves, but the best I could manage was to shove
him against the wall.
"What'd I do?" he said.
"Don't play games," I said. He looked puzzled. "This." I pointed at my
head, then wiped a piece of hair out of my eye. That just made me
angrier.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said. I had just about had
it.
"You put glue in my hair."
"I don't see any glue."
I rubbed my hand through my scalp. If he would have put something in my
hair, I would have felt it, right? I let go of him and he didn't waste
time scurrying off.
I went to the bathroom. I almost gasped when I saw the mirror. The hair
was silky and straight and it hung past my elbows. I leaned into the
mirror and examined my head. It wasn't a wig, the strands of hair went
right into my scalp.
"What the fuck!" I said.
"Hey, Brad, what's up?"
It was Leo. I noticed again that he really did seem taller, or was I
shorter? I had to admit I was getting a little hysterical.
"Leo, how do I look?"
"You got a date or something?"
"No. I don't," I remembered that I did, "I mean I do, but that's not why
I'm asking. You don't see anything wrong with my hair?"
"Well, it's a little girly, but you've worn it that way since fourth
grade."
"What did you say?"
"Dude, I gotta go. Practice starts in a few. Shouldn't you be getting
ready?"
"Yeah, you're right."
Leo walked out. I grabbed my hair. I yanked at it. I pulled it. I
scratched my scalp. Mom, Billy, Dylan, Leo. They all thought that I had
always looked this way. Then I saw something that freaked me out even
more. It was my chest. It felt funny. I unbuttoned my khaki shirt and
pulled half of it to the side. My nipples were tender and swollen. In
fact, my whole chest looked puffy. I closed my shirt and noticed that the
puffiness was visible through the material, two small, but noticeable
lumps. Almost like little tits.
I thought about running home or to the school nurse or to a hospital, but
I nixed those thoughts pretty quick. I didn't know what was going on, but
I damn sure didn't want anyone else to know either. I saw a first aid kit
near the door and got an idea.
Walking down the hall, no one seemed to notice me so I guess my plan had
worked. I cut off most of the hair with the medical scissors and tightly
wrapped my chest with a long ACE bandage. My head looked like it had gone
through a blender and I couldn't take any deep breaths, but at least I
didn't look like a freak.
My lucky stat sheet was missing from my locker. I cursed and looked
around, but most of the other guys were already out on the field. I got
dressed in my football uniform. As I walked outside, I noticed the roster
chart on the door. It had everyone's vital stats and positions.
I saw my name: Brad Smith, 5'9", 175 lbs, quarterback. It was all wrong.
Everything except for my name. Was I really shorter? I looked around and
hopped on the combo scale/height gage. "5'9" it read.
I ran outside. The team was already on the field and running plays. Some
other guy was in my position throwing the ball. In all of my years of
playing I'd never been late, but I guess coach had to start with
somebody.
"Put me in coach, I'm ready to play," I said.
"Quit playing around, Smith. I'm trying to straighten this team up," said
Coach Simpkins.
"Does this mean I'm benched?" I asked. He didn't look my way. "I know I
was late, I'm sorry."
"Smith, what is your malfunction?"
"I just want to play."
"Listen, Brad. You may be the smartest QB on the roster, you know the
playbook like nobody's business, but you just don't have the arm
strength."
"I've got a great arm."
"Okay, take this." He grabbed a ball from another player and shoved it
into my gut. "If you can hit the net behind the water cooler, I'll let
you run the offense for the rest of practice."
I took the ball. It was about a 40-yard pass. A piece of cake for me
normally, I mean, a cheerleader could throw a 40-yard pass, but I
remembered how lousy I was yesterday. Still I felt pretty good and
decided to show coach what I was made of.
I put my all into it. I tossed the ball as hard I could. It sailed good
and high...and landed far short of the net. About 28 yards I guessed.
I looked at Coach Simpkins who shook his head and laughed. I took a seat
on the bench. The rest of practice sucked--hard.
Back in the locker room, I pulled off my helmet and a ton of hair
cascaded down my shoulders. I was so shocked, I couldn't move.
Clint, the linebacker, ran up to me. He was wrapped in a towel.
"Yo, Bradley. If you want to stop riding the bench, you should think
about cutting that, pretty boy." He took off his towel and used it to
snap me in the ass. I yelped and tried to get out of the way, but was
again shocked at the mass of hair. I looked back over my shoulder and
found that it hung past my butt. Not only that but it had lightened to
honey blonde and was a lot fuller than before. There was so much of it.
I ran and got dressed and tied the hair back with a wristband. I had a
hot date with Candy at the Mug. Candy was another cheerleader. I had done
her before, but I liked going out with her because she always put out. I
stopped at the mall and bought some boots. I wanted to look taller.
You have to excuse me for not thinking clearly. But I starting to think I
was losing touch with reality.
I didn't see Candy anywhere in the Mug, but just as I walking out...
"Bradley, where are you going?"
I turned back. It was Sherry DiMarco, a junior and vice president of the
glee club.
"I thought we had a date," she said. Now don't get me wrong. Sherry
wasn't ugly, but she wasn't a hot chick. She was more of the bubbly,
flat-chested sort. I had always pegged her as something of a ditz.
"Oh," I said sitting down without really thinking. "Did we?"
"Very funny. How do you get your hair like that? I can't get the frizz
out of my hair. I love your boots, too," she said hardly taking the time
to breath between words.
"Um, thanks."
"I saw you outside, so I ordered us a pair of malteds," she said.
The malts came out.
"So Jeanine and Darren Thomas really are an item. And Stan and Millie
broke up at lunch today. Stan and Millie! Together since the seventh
grade! Can you believe that?"
"And you're telling me this why?" I said
"Whoa, somebody got up on the bitchy side of the bed this morning."
"I'm sorry, I--."
"Look, it's Michael." I knew the guy. He played tackle on the team. "He
looks even hotter than he did last year. What do you think?"
I stood up.
"I'm sorry. I have to go."
"Bradley, are you alright?"
I ran past Michael and into the parking lot. Why was Sherry talking to me
like that? Was it the hair? Did she think I was gay? Where was my pick-
up?
I reached in my pocket for the keys so that I could trigger the alarm and
locate the truck. Of course, the pick-up sat so high above the ground, I
didn't know how I could miss it. I heard the beep from the alarm and saw
a light flash on a little hatchback. I pressed the button again and the
lights blinked again too. My truck had changed to a dinky little car.
I knew this was impossible. I literally scratched my head trying to find
a rationale explanation for this. Finding none, I opened the door and got
inside. My book bag and football stuff was on the passenger seat.
Thinking about driving, I pulled out my driver's license. Bradley Simon
Smith, 5'9," 155 lbs. The picture showed how I looked now, skinnier and
with the long, girly hair. And what was with the "Bradley?" Sherry had
been calling me that too.
Who was doing this to me and how could I stop them?
"Not 'who,' but 'what' Brad."
If I said that I almost jumped out of my skin at the sight of a woman
appearing out of thin air in the seat next to me, you'd probably believe
it given all of the other weird things that have happened so far.
Instead, I'll say that I was damned startled and hit my head against the
window. I knocked myself silly for a few seconds.
"I hope that hurt," said the woman.
"Who are you?" I asked rubbing my head.
"I'm Glenda, one of the good witches, and it's not too late for you to
turn back."
"You're doing this to me?"
"No. You did this to yourself when you tried to make Lisa drink that
potion. I intercepted it and mixed it into your Gatorade."
"You what!?! Why would you do that!?!" I shouted.
"Why would you attempt to do something so cruel to her? Lisa has an
important future. Too important to allow her to be turned into your dream
bimbo."
I have to admit. I was getting pretty angry with this Glenda chic.
"What? Is she going to be president or something one day?"
"Something like that. I'm here to warn you, though. The spell that you
were given is no ordinary spell. It's a persistent spell. The more you
struggle against it, the more powerful it's magic."
"That explains this hair."
"And everything else that's changed since you drank the potion. But the
good news is that you can stop what's happening to you."
"How?"
"All you have to do is tell Lisa that you are sorry for being such a pig
before it's too late."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I think you've learned to behave yourself and from here on the
changes get more dramatic and...permanent."
I was damned mad. First, at being tricked by this witch chic and, second,
at being told that I had to apologize. I shoved Glenda against the
passenger door, screaming for her to get out.
She opened the door and got up.
"You'll regret this," she said and disappeared.
I know I wasn't thinking clearly. I've always been pretty stubborn and
I'll even admit that I'm kind of a hot head at times. This time was no
exception. I sped home, determined to fight this spell. If I could cut my
hair, what did it matter how long it got? I would do whatever I had to
until I puzzled out a way to fix this.
At home, there were little things that didn't fit. The house looked
neater and smelled better. A spotted cat was running around and I guess
it belonged to me because it kept rubbing my leg. But the really strange
thing was that everyone's hair was lighter. Mom, Lizzie and Billy all
looked normal, except for their hair. Dark hair ran in my family and it
was almost as if the spell was now changing them to fit me. After all, I
couldn't have blonde hair if they were all dark brunettes, could I?
I ran upstairs and locked my door and went to sleep. Maybe this was all
some sort of nightmare.
The next morning, I got up and went to the mirror. I was happy that
nothing else had changed. I knew exactly what I would do. I grabbed the
scissors. Then I picked out my school clothes. I tried to ignore that
some of my underwear and socks had gone pink and frilly.
In the bathroom, I cut my hair as low as I could and prepared for a
shower. I had to unwrap the ACE bandage slowly. I had been wearing it
since yesterday and felt a little sore around the chest, but was glad
that the swelling hadn't increased any. I took a shower and dried myself
off.
Then it happened again.
I didn't feel a thing. No tingling sensation, no wooziness. It just
happened.
I was looking down, so I had a pretty good view of the process. Tits
popped out of my chest as though they were spring-loaded jack-in-the-
boxes. Then the hair followed, flowing down around my shoulders. I moved
the hair out of the way, I didn't know how long it was now, but it hung
at least to my butt. But the sight of tits on my chest made me almost
faint. They looked positively huge. I cupped them in my hands though and
realized that they were probably only about a 'C' cup. Still the
sensation of the little pink nipples in the palms of my hands felt very
strange.
I ran back to my room and proceeded to wrap my chest again with the
belief that I could find a way out of this mess before it got worse. I
wrapped it tight, but not too tight because it was kind of uncomfortable.
I looked in the mirror. The tits were still pretty obvious and I couldn't
breath. I decided to just take off the bandage and it happened again. I
don't know, I guess they doubled in size, but my tits were so large now I
couldn't even cover them with my hands.
I slumped on the bed, my tits bouncing on my chest, and pondered my next
step. Obviously, cutting my hair and wrapping my chest wasn't going to
work much longer. If I kept fighting the spell this way, pretty soon I'd
look like a bizzaro cross between Rapunzel and Dolly Parton's bigger
busted sister.
I had to rummage through all my drawers and the closet to find something
that was still recognizably my own. I put on a pair of my regular jeans
and a dark, oversized t-shirt that despite it's bagginess, still showed
the outlines of my breasts. I grabbed my books and ran down stairs. At
least I started to run, but the tits were wobbling and bobbing around on
my chest like they had a life of their own.
"Young lady, I know you're not going out without a bra!" said Mom at the
top of the stairs. I looked down and knew what she was talking about. My
nipples showed through the fabric like little cones.
I went back to the room and looked in my underwear draw. Sure enough, the
drawer was filled with a collection of bras: all "DD." I had all kinds
from a lacy black one with red hearts on it to a skimpy see-through one.
I chose the plainest beige colored bra I could find.
"That's better, now have a good day at school, sweetheart," said Mom,
kissing my forehead. I noticed that when she kissed me, she had to bend
down a little. She was about 5'5" and looking up at her I realized that I
must have gotten a lot shorter. It must have been because of the boots I
had on last night.
Driving to school in the car, which now by the way was an old, but clean-
looking Volkswagen Bug with pink and white seats, I came to a stoplight
and glanced in the rearview mirror. My face looked different. I mean I
looked like me, but I also looked more like Lizzie and Mom with a more
delicate jaw line and a smaller nose.
I was damned uncomfortable at school. Everyone kept looking at me. The
boys were ogling me when they thought I wasn't looking and the girls were
looking at me with, I'm not sure, envy? disgust? resentment? Gym class
was a disaster. I couldn't keep my balance to save my life, these breasts
were too big, and my hair kept getting in the way. I must have looked
totally nuts trying to avoid the dodge ball and getting hit in the boobs
every time. Some of the meaner girls were laughing themselves silly at my
expense.
I went into the weight room and lifted some weights. Some of the jocks
kept offering to 'help' me. I had to constantly shoo them away.
I could only manage 30 pounds on the rowing machine and I thought I would
die after I did ten curls using the ten-pound dumbbells. I didn't even
try the bench press as that would have required me to lie on my back and
put my rack on display for the whole world.
There's a burning feeling you get when you've lifted enough weights to
increase your muscle mass a little. I got that feeling and felt a little
hopeful. Then it went away and I looked at my arm, which got thinner
before my eyes.
"Shit," I thought. My arms were as skinny as pipe cleaners.
I went to the school library hoping that maybe I could find an answer
there. I searched for over an hour and all I found was a book on Old
English runes and a children's book of rhyming spells.
Sherry walked by with some of her friends and noticed me.
"Beth, wow, what a great outfit. You look so cute!"
I looked down at myself. I was wearing a cheerleading outfit in the
school colors complete with a matching sweater, skirt, pom-pom socks and
white tennis shoes. And did she just call me Beth?
I guess I had really just about had it then. I screamed.
"Listen to me, Sherry. I'm not cute, I'm not pretty, and I'm not
gorgeous! Just leave me alone!"
Sherry and her friends walked away.
"What got into her?" one of the girls said.
"I don't know. Maybe she's on the rag."
"Yeah, like totally."
I looked at myself in the dark reflection of the library office. I looked
different all over. My tits looked even bigger, a "EE" cup I think. It
was hard to tell, since I assumed the skintight sweater made them look
bigger than they really were. I don't know, they looked like overripe
grapefruits. My mid-riff bearing sweater showed that my waist had gotten
taught and firm and my legs were super skinny and sexy. But my face is
what really worried me. My eyes looked bigger, my eye lashes super-long,
my nose even smaller, my lips fuller and my cheeks wear higher and
covered with light freckles. I reached up and felt my hair which was done
up in two huge long pig-tails.
I looked like some kind of Barbi doll, sexy school edition.
I remembered what I had screamed at Sherry and her friends. I was
changing just based on what I said now!
I went to the locker room. It was game day and I had to get ready. I
don't know why I went. What did I plan to do? I wasn't a quarterback
anymore. I probably couldn't make a five-yard pass now.
I guess I was honestly disoriented and didn't know where else to go. I
didn't make it through the locker room door though, which was probably a
good thing. A pair of hands grabbed my ass and squeezed hard.
It was Jerry and Leo.
"Ow! Get away from me you jerks!" I screamed.
"What's the matter, Beth?" said Leo.
"Yeah, what's the big deal? Normally, you giggle when we do that."
"It's me, guys. Brad! Your quarterback!"
They looked at each other. I guess they thought it was some kind of joke.
"I'm not a girl dammit!"
"Is there a problem out here?" It was Coach Simpkins. "You two girls go
and get ready." He said to the guys. "Beth, shouldn't you be with the
cheer squad?"
"Yes. I should."
I slumped away, slowly realizing what I had just told Jerry and Leo. "I'm
not a girl," I had said. I walked into the girl's restroom, went straight
to a stall and lifted up my skirt. I actually couldn't see very well
because my tits got in the way, but a little searching with my hand
confirmed it.
My equipment was gone. Underneath, my frilly lace panties was a shaved
mound and a pussy.
"Glenda!" I screamed her name loud and clear, over and over until I
yelled my throat raw. Then after a couple of minutes of that she
appeared.
"What did you do?"
I looked at her. I had to look up a good bit. I had gotten even shorter.
"You must have fought the spell quite hard to wind up like this. You're
only five feet tall."
"Glenda, I'll do it. I'll apologize to Lisa," I grabbed Glenda by her
arms. I was desperate. "I'll apologize to you too. See. I'm sorry. I'm
really, really sorry!"
"It's too late, Brad."
"What do you mean 'too late?'"
"I told you before that time was short. The time to reverse the spell has
passed."
"What are you saying?"
"The persistent spell gains power the longer you let it flourish. I'll
put this in terms you can understand: you can't stop it, you can only
hope to contain it."
I slumped to my knees. The still unfamiliar weight of my breasts almost
pulled me over.
"I can help you though."
"How?" I looked up, a tear in my eye.
"I can't turn you back into yourself, but I can remove some of the most
extreme effects of the spell."
"You mean turn me into more of a normal girl?"
Glenda nodded her head.
It was the spring semester and I can't say that I was really used to what
I'd done to myself, but I owed a lot to Glenda. She'd reduced my breasts
to a more normal 'D' cup, although I was still young enough for a growth
spurt. She also made it so that the spell wouldn't be so persistent. She
couldn't turn it off completely, but at least my hair wouldn't grow every
time I cut it. Otherwise, I looked mostly the same.
I miss playing football, but I'm not about to go to the games as a
cheerleader. Yet, I realize now that I have other skills. I've been
paying a lot more attention in class and getting the best grades ever. I
always have been good with playbooks and I think that makes me a natural
in math. I've been thinking about going to college and studying that.
Maybe I'll be a professor one day. But that's for the future.
Today, I have a date with Jerry. I know, I know, that's a long story. But
I will say he's a nice guy once you get to know him and I've known him
all my life. I've been teaching him how to respect females. He's a slow
study, but I've got time. I've got my whole life ahead of me. I'm Beth
Smith.
Bree
- 28.03.2020
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