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The Witch's Circle Before she married him, she'd insisted on full disclosure. He was a romantic, and this made him a lost soul in her eyes. People would do uncharacteristic things under the spell of love. For example... marriage. She wanted to make sure he knew what he was in for, not a rough ride exactly, but not exactly a normal one either. His disclosure was minimal. Hers was more eventful. As always, when one attempts to deliver weighty news, the buildup, the prologue is a tad long. "It's a historical thing, in a way. Not that that is what it's really about for me. I mean, it's partly a family thing, but mostly....I mean it's not like it is presented. It's not what people think. And there are tons of people who claim." "Jesus, Katy, what is it?" Vincent was tall with a dark protruding caveman's brow, warm nutmeg brown eyes, thick light brown hair, a lean lanky cowboy body, and a nice ass. He had an easy, sauntering way about him, as if the world came and went naturally of its own accord, and expected little of him. He was successful enough, so he wasn't lazy, but the thing she like best was his ability to cut through the shit. Katy was dwarfed by him, a short, curvy, full bodied red-head with daring green eyes. The more passionate she was, the angrier, the hornier, the more embarrassed... the more beautiful she became. When her milky-pink complexion reddened, when it smoldered with a blush, when the heat fanned its fingers into her cheeks and neck and shoulders, she was like a magnificent fire. A thing that swept up and consumed everything in its path. She was also private as all get out, and Vincent knew to pay attention when she was spilling one of her secrets. She fixed her eyes upon him. He felt it in his ribs, the power of her gaze, and in the pit of his stomach, and lower. "I'm a witch." He hadn't expected that. They went the usual route: questions, explanations, theories--spitted and dissected for his amusement--and finally, skepticism. Still, Vincent was a romantic, and her bizarre belief could not stop the wedding. # If the first six months of a marriage are spent in the luxury of manners, patience, and tolerance. The next six are spent performing a much more crucial task... negotiating. Dirty clothes could not be left in the middle of the floor. Cars must have regular oil changes. Toilet seats must be left down. Football games must be watched with friends, beer, and greasy food. Vincent gazed down upon the feisty little red head staring fearlessly up at him. He tried to intimidate her with his size. "Does it have to be this weekend?" he asked. "I told you, it's my turn to host." She didn't appear intimidated. He stalked away. He would argue his point from a safe distance. Not that she was dangerous, just that her green eyes sometimes caught him off guard, bottomless, cool, soothing, reasonable. "These are your witch girl friends?" "My sorority, yes." He smirked. She'd never used that phrase before. "You were in a sorority?" Her tongue was a soft dish during kisses, but razor sharp when fully connected to her brain. "The term sorority dates back much further than the university system. They are my sisters, and yes, Wiccan." "So, what, y'all get together and practice your little spells? You're not trying to conquer some evil warlock or something, are you? I mean, I wouldn't want to get in the way of you gals saving the universe." The blush hit her like a hot gale. She could feel her blood boil. It was everything she could do to hold herself back. "There is no such thing as warlocks." His eyebrows lifted. "No?" "No. There are those who pretend, women, too, for that matter. All I'm asking for is one weekend. You've certainly had your football weekends. Well, this is mine." "Yeah, but for the whole weekend I have to be gone. I mean, where am I supposed to go? Besides, isn't it a little weird for a husband to get kicked out of his own house for a whole..." "Our." "Huh?" She pressed her lips together until they were white. "Our house. Not your house. Ours. We both pay the bills. We both live here. I put up with a lot..." "Okay, okay... I guess I could probably find some place to go." The argument was over, but had not yet run its full course. They knew where they wanted to be, in each other's arms, melting, but it took another thirty minutes of debate before they could get there. # He wouldn't let it go. His curiosity had been roused. His suspicion, too. He had no reason to doubt anything she said, but all men distrust their wive's friends to some degree. She would not give in; it was her sisterhood, after all, and like she said, did he ever invite her on his boys' nights out? And she knew they went to strip clubs and drank and did many things that were out of bounds for most husbands. He tried to tell her she was always invited, but even he didn't believe it. It was an awkward lie. He didn't want her along. He valued his limited freedom when he could get it. This weekend, she explained, it was he who was not welcome. He began to hate her "sisters". What were they going to do all night anyway? If he knew the truth he thought he'd probably be disappointed and bored as hell. They probably just sat around, drinking wine, talking about fashion, lipstick, celebrities ad nauseam. But he didn't know, and it was killing him. It was turning him into an asshole and he couldn't find a way to stop it. They fought every time the "weekend" came up. She became more and more flustered, more and more defensive. He became more and more aggressive, until they found themselves sitting across the dinner table from each other, pouting, full of hurt and tension and anger. Finally, after a silence that only the dead could enjoy, she broke. Tears from her usually clear green eyes. An unpleasant, almost ugly sneer of distress upon her usually sensuous lips. "Is it such a big fucking deal?" He crossed his arms, stared at the floor. "I don't know." "Enough to... fucking... enough to screw up a whole marriage over?" He swallowed. His Adam's apple dipped and dipped again. "I don't know." "Do you have any idea what would happen if I let you come along? I'd be out of the sisterhood. I'd never be welcome again. So, what you're saying is it's either them or you." He was speechless, but couldn't find a way to back down. His pride had done him in dozens of times before, lost him bets, women, money, but never a marriage. Never something this important. # She had coffee. Hot. Black. Just like he liked it. She was playing the good wifey which she did occasionally, but not often. It confused him. He expected anger, sullenness. She gave him cheer and smiles. She sat beside him on the bed. "Breakfast?" He grumbled for a moment, then realized he was being rude. She was making an effort. He could do the same. "Not just yet, thanks." "How's the coffee?" He tried to sip it, but it was hot. A whiff of hazelnut stung his nose. Flavored. Why would she use flavored coffee? He didn't even know they had flavored coffee. Still, he couldn't exactly complain about it. He tried another sip. "Good, thanks." It was sour. Not burnt. He thought witches were all about chemistry, boiling cauldrons, and so on, so how could she get coffee wrong? "Just like you like it?" she asked sweetly, as only a good, obedient, loving wife could. He concealed a wince and drank. "Yes. Perfect." She stared at him adoringly. "And you," he ventured cautiously, "you're not angry?" She withdrew a bit. "I was, but then I started thinking about it and I realized that you'd given me a choice. My friends or our love. I mean," she shrugged like a little girl with big dreams, "this is what being a Wiccan is all about. Finding ingenious solutions, natural solutions to trtlife's problems." He took a big breath, started to set the coffee cup down. "Is it not hot enough?" she asked. "No, no, it's perfect." He sipped the burnt stuff again. "So what is your ingenious solution?" "Well, if you're going to stay this weekend, we might as well be able to use you." "Use me?" She laughed and her eyes twinkled. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Being used by a bunch of girls." He chuckled. "I wouldn't say no." He let the hand with the coffee nonchalantly drift beside him on the bed, on the opposite side of her. "Drink your coffee, dear." He smiled and took another sip. Was she playing with him? Did she know it tasted terrible? Was this his payback? If so, he'd gladly take it over something much worse. "So, what are you going to do with me?" His eyes drifted from her face to her neck, settling on her bosom. The smile that lit his face came easily. She leaned forward every so slightly, enjoying the way he looked at her, letting her cleavage spill for his amusement. Her whisper was crisp. He was suddenly aware of each wet click of her tongue. "Sweetie, we're not going to do anything with you...." He smiled and gazed into her green eyes. There was a look of interest there, like a doctor checking a patient. He grinned warmly, the soft white shapes of her breasts hovering just below his eyesight. He had an urge to drop his gaze again, to enjoy her beautiful female accouterments, but as soon as it had come, the urge began to fade. She placed her warm hand on the side of his cheek. His smile grew. "Are you okay? You feel so hot." He tore his eyes away from her mouth and found himself staring down into the shimmering depths of his coffee. "No, I'm okay." "Drink your coffee, sweetie." His hand rose. For a moment, he'd been unaware of commanding it to move, but movements were always like that. You didn't think about moving your arm, you just moved it. He sipped the sour coffee. "I put cinnamon and hazelnut in there. It should taste wonderful," Katy said. His brow furrowed slightly. He was gazing into his coffee cup. Did cinnamon and hazelnut interact poorly together? Is that why it tasted sour? Maybe it was like too much of a good thing, too many good things clashing with each other, too many chefs spoiling the broth, too many things, too much of a good thing, too much-- She lifted his chin with a finger. "Hey, you okay? You keep drifting off." He nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just..." A deep breath interrupted his train of thought. He'd forgotten what he was going to say. The sound of Katy's purr stirred him. She crept forward and delivered a light moist kiss and withdrew, leaving a cool tingle on his forehead in the shape of her mouth. Her cheeks were perfectly pinkened by a rosey blush. She couldn't have been more beautiful. After a moment, he discovered he'd been looking longingly into her eyes. He hadn't done that since they first met, when they'd both found themselves helpless to such things, when the spell of love had affected them both. He felt like there was a magnet in the room that kept drawing his gaze. It was a strange sensation. Usually, one gazes from one item to the next, scans across items, isn't even aware of staring at any particular thing until it stares back, but Vincent found himself in the constant state of stare. Halfway into a nice long dazed stare before he came to his senses and broke it off. He had to start getting to bed earlier. That and the recent arguments with Katy had really been taking their toll. "Sorry, I must have not totally have woken up yet." Katy smiled. "So... " he started, intending to follow up on... the question he'd asked a minute ago, only he couldn't seem to dredge it up again. The breath of Katy's soft sweet voice brushed his lips. "Are you sure you're okay? You seem a little out of it." He nodded, but his nod was wrong; it was too big, too expressive. It was the kind of nod you gave when you were drunk. He took a deep breath. "I'm fine, I'm just... I don't know, I guess I just feel...." To Vincent, a brief second passed while he waited for the word to appear in his mind. To Katy, a study of the clock brought him to around five minutes. Finally, she provided the rest of his thought, which was in fact her thought, but she was certain he wouldn't be able to distinguish between the two anymore. "Happy?" He blinked. Smiled. "Happy. Just really happy. Sort of stoned happy." He laughed, unable to believe how good he felt. Lightheaded, happy, empty and carefree. # "How are you feeling, sweetheart?" He nodded, tensing for a moment, trying to awaken, but something pulled him back down. Hundreds of tendrils in his mind, removing all the strength, all the muscle. He was impossibly heavy and relaxed again. He ordered his lips to pronounce the word, "Fine," but it was slow in coming, and the muscles of his mouth were too tired to adequately complete the job. He heard the soft, gentle laugh of his wife and managed a smile. He loved to hear that sultry throat of hers make happy sounds. He loved... Before he could finish the thought, he realized he'd slipped again, realized he was coming up, waking up again. The timelessness of a deep sleep made it impossible for him to tell how long he'd been out. It was only Katy's voice calling to him that hauled him from his coma. "Vince? Vincent? Can you open your eyes for me, sweetheart?" He tried, tried harder, was about to apologize and reply that he couldn't when his eyes cracked open. Her cool hand massaged his forehead. "That's a good boy." He could only manage a half-smile. "We're going to play a little game, okay? I need your eyes open though. Seeing. Eyes open. A little more... can you open them just a little more. Make your eyes focus for me. Much better. Thank you." He smiled. His eyes blinked lethargically. "Can you see this, sweetheart?" He furrowed his brow. There before him was a square of red. She was holding a leftover tile from their remodeling project weeks before.. "Can you tell me what color this is, sweetheart?" He gave her a minimalist's nod. "Red." "Good. You're doing so well. Now, we're going to play a little game. I want you to focus on this color. Let the color penetrate your eyes. Let it penetrate every part of your body. Stare deep into the color." She brought the sample closer. He felt his eyes begin to strain. He stared at the color until it seemed to lose all meaning. "What color is it, Vincent?" "Red." "Stare even harder. Harder. Let it become your entire world." He stared and stared until his eyes began to water, until the sample began to flash to a negative yellow. He lost track of how long he'd been focusing until her voice broke again. "Close your eyes now, sweetheart." His eyelids dropped shut. He was grateful. He felt himself slip away, his body sinking and washing away like water down a drain. He was floating again, timeless, blank. "Imagine the color in your mind. You can still see it, can't you?" "Yesss." "And now you're so deep in the color that you can't even tell what color it is. The color is too close. You're moving deeper inside it, down and down and down...." She took him on a mental journey deeper into a single color that was composed of many flecks of other colors, until he couldn't tell where one color stopped and the other started, until he couldn't be sure what color he was actually focusing on again. He stopped trying to reason it out, let the show play out in his mind's eye, then seemed to descend into darkness again. "Open your eyes, Vincent." They pried themselves open. She held the sample before his eyes. "What color is it, Vincent?" Without a thought, he replied, "Blue." He could hear the sigh of her smile. "Wonderful. Now close your eyes and fall away. Feel yourself sink deeper, deeper, deeper... deep... er...." When he was floaty again, she gave him some very important instructions. # Connie was first, dark hair cut into sharp bangs, dark flashing green eyes, glossy brown lips, with a bottle of wine. She knew they couldn't drink tonight, but it was the thought that counted. Katy welcomed her with a smile. Jenna was behind her, brown curls, a natural face, very little makeup, but sweet and beautiful all the same. Decadent chocolates. No eating those this weekend. Their bodies had to be pure, sans chemicals, but the thought counted large with everyone. Alyssa came next, giggly and happy and squealing as only a girly-girl can. Bubble bath. What else would a bubbly blonde bring? Carolyn was last. She was the only one in heels. The white skin, the black hair, blue eyes, the ice queen, flowing into Katy's apartment as if she'd just acquired it on a whim. A new candle and some incense. Always practical. The five of them stood around talking, arranging themselves almost unconsciously into a circle. A stream of continuous, never-ending conversation, all seemingly at the same time, using complex female social skills that no man could ever hope to understand. It was Carolyn, of course, that noticed first. She stopped dead, thin lips pursed, glaring. The rest of them soon lapsed into a sharp silence, leaving only Alyssa muttering, "What? What's going on?" With a long fingernail, Carolyn pointed to the couch in the next room. "What's he doing here?" Katy turned red, but began to explain. "Remember the problem I was having?" "You know the rules, Katy." Carolyn pronounced her name with all the inflection of a shark bite. "No. Men." Jenna jumped to her friend's defense. "Relax, Carolyn," same shark bite inflection, "I'm sure Katy has a good explanation." Alyssa shoved her hand in the air, waving frantically. "Hi, Vince!" Carolyn ignored her. "There is no explanation. You've violated the rules of the sisterhood." "I can explain," Katy tried, barely noticing Alyssa bouncing her way across the room. "He's he's not going to stay. Is he?" Connie's question was too timid for a response. "Would you let her explain?" Jenna said. Carolyn cut her off with a hostile grimace. "There is no explanation. She's violated..." In the background, they heard Alyssa's voice. "Um... Vince? Vince? Wow. Are you sleeping, hunney? Vince?" "Look, it's just that I didn't have much of a choice. But I've found a way," Katy explained, "to make everything " Alyssa giggled. "Cool! Vince... Vince, you are totally under my power." The blonde's attempt at a spooky, hypnotic voice was less than convincing. "Raise your left hand, Vince. Do as I command." Katy sighed, rubbed her tense forehead. Vince's hand was straight up in the air. "Alyssa, could you please not play with my husband's mind?" Alyssa beamed like a happy six year old. "What'd you do to him?" "I I had to take drastic measures. It was the only way," Katy said. "You drugged him," Connie gasped, and a slow grin crawled onto her face. "How do we know he's really under?" Carolyn argued. Katy sighed, led the way over to her husband and brushed Alyssa aside. "Vincent, open your eyes, please." After a few seconds and a fair amount of eye fluttering, his lids lifted. "What color is Alyssa's blouse?" Vincent's gaze shifted slowly to Alyssa's breasts. A slight smile appeared on his lips. "Blue." Katy turned to Carolyn. "Satisfied?" Carolyn glanced at Alyssa's hot red blouse. "You two could be in this together. He could still be pretending." Katy put her hand on Carolyn's shoulder, placed her face uncomfortably close. "After you see what he's here for, I don't think you'll be worried about that anymore." # The stage was set; the women in their places. There was some chanting to prepare their minds, mostly a formality, but a useful one. They had a common goal. Five minds in perfect synch. All petty differences faded into oblivion. Five incredibly intelligent minds with knowledge passed down through the centuries coming together for a perfect moment. They had brought themselves into a communal hypnotic trance. Things were about to happen. Vincent wasn't thinking clearly, but he was there, feeling thick and numb and slow, looking up from his place on the floor at vaguely familiar faces. He heard his name spoken and slowly raised his eyes to see Katy, smiling warmly down on him. The chanting continued in the background, and though it continued, it dipped below his radar. "Do you accept the gift I pass unto you?" He felt his face tighten; he was frowning, feeling very confused, but it was Katy. Did he ever refuse a gift from Katy? He licked his lips slowly, blinked his eyes so slowly he thought they might never reopen them again, and nodded. "Okay... thanks." "Say, 'I accept', Vincent." "I accept." His lips began to burn, as if he's rubbed them with chile peppers. His nipples suddenly twinged and became icy-hot. As Katy stepped to the side, she heard her husband mutter sleepily, "... and I didn't get you anything." She suppressed a laugh. Alyssa's face loomed over him. Her familiar bubbly, blonde smile was gone. She was all business, and even in his dazed state, Vincent couldn't help but take notice of it. "Hi... hunney," he muttered. She did not respond. "Vincent... do you accept the gift I pass unto you?" It took a minute for her words to penetrate his foggy mind. "Of course." "Say, 'I accept', hunney." "I accept, hunney." He always loved making Alyssa smile helplessly. Vincent's thighs began to tingle and burn. The sensation slowly crept down until it encompassed his legs. Prickly sensations crawled across his toes and around his ankles. Alyssa stepped aside, her sunny face replaced by Jenna's natural Earth Mother face. "Vincent... do you," Jenna's soft voice began, "freely accept the gift I pass unto you?" "Yes." Vincent's voice became soft, instinctively matching hers. His belly began to tingle around his navel, then spread all around his waist, down his buttocks, becoming an icy-hot burning sensation. For a moment, his stomach churned in a nauseating way. He squirmed uncomfortably until the sensations began to subside. Connie's face, framed by her sharp black bangs, appeared over him. Her green eyes seemed to shine in the sudden darkness. "Vincent, do you accept the gift I pass unto you?" Still lethargic, he nodded first, feeling strangely exhausted. "I accept." His spine burned like a white hot piece of iron. He sucked breath through his gritted teeth until the burn faded to an almost unbearable tingle. Carolyn's grin was unpleasant. "Vincent, do you accept...." When he replied, he felt as if his scalp had suddenly burst into flames. The burning moved deeper and deeper until he felt a great fever in his brain. Dark spots danced before his eyes, and the room began to whirl. For a moment, he thought someone had walloped the back of his skull. Then he realized it was the floor. # He sleepily attempted to roll on to his stomach. His hand fished around for the pillow blocking him. A strange dull pinch became sharp, prodding him from slumber. There were two pillows stuck to his chest. His hand squeezed them, slipped across them, then zipped up to his crusty eyes to clear the confusion. The pillow's texture was wrong. Felt more like warm latex than cotton. For a timeless moment, he floated in half-sleep, like an oak log on a river, never quite sinking, never quite bobbing to wakefulness. His back ached. He felt he'd been sleeping for a very long time. He felt stiff and uncomfortable. He moaned, heard someone else in the room moan in unison, and stretched. The pillows rolled with him, stretched with him. Finally, his eyelids lifted and he saw a room that was off color. The walls were still white, shadows still gray, but everything else looked off. The bedspread he thought he remembered being blue was now almost green. Katy's bright yellow phone, which he'd always disliked, was now bright yellow green. In fact everything looked a little more green. He sleepily tried to roll away one of the pillows that had somehow glued themselves to his body. It wasn't a pillow he touched, but living, warm flesh. He gazed down at himself. The breasts were milky white, the left one laying on top of the right producing a wondrous cleavage that Vince couldn't help but admire... if it hadn't been glued to his chest. He sat for a long time, staring, disbelieving. He was dreaming. He pushed back the covers, watching as two long, lean, soft, slick legs made bicycle motions against the mass of bedspread. He was dreaming. He pulled himself to an upright position, feeling the weight of the breasts, not unnatural, not uncomfortable, not straining against applied body-glue, but soft and warm and brushing against each other pleasantly. What a fucking dream this was! He started to touch them, but got lost in his hands the moment he saw them. They were tiny, thin fingers, long nails, wrists so narrow his old male hands (his real hands) could've swallowed them whole. He raised them to see them in the light, and had to jerk his head a little to get rid of an errant lock of He saw it out of the corner of his eye, felt it on his cheek, concealing his ears. He sank his fingers into a tangled mass of hair. Clutching a long lock, he brought it around and looked at it. Red. If this wasn't a fucking dream, he was going insane. "Let me explain." Katy stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, looking tense and worried. The girl on the bed gazed up and brought her small hands forward, still clutching her deep auburn hair, as if offering it to Katy. Her eyes were wide and confused and her soft brown lips were mouthing the words, "Wha wha wha..." "Just take a breath, sweetheart. Try not to let it..." The girl looked down at her slender wrists. "Stop it." "Stop what?" "I don't like this. Stop it." "Stop what, Vince..." He glared up at her, his green eyes dazzling. "This isn't me." "Well," Katy tried, "I'm afraid it is for a little while." Vince didn't appear to believe her, but was just now taking the time to look beyond his breasts, over them, down at his groin, which was no longer by any means male. "You didn't leave me any choice. You insisted on coming to our meeting when you knew it was not allowed. You as much as said it was either you or them. I found way to have both." Vince's hand dropped timidly to his lap, his fingers brushing through his auburn patch of pubic hair. He parted his thighs, closed them hurriedly and looked away. "You drugged me. This isn't real. It's hypnosis. You're making me see things that aren't there." After a long silence, Vince turned his eyes to his wife. She had tears in her eyes. "It's real, Vincent." He gazed down at himself yet again. From his point of view practically all he could see were breasts. Somewhere beyond was the start of his knees, but everything below was obscured by those large white breasts. He felt everything where it should be, with one alarming exception. He flexed the muscles that he used to urinate, to help with erections, the muscles still flexed, but there was no sensation at the tip of his penis. Or rather, there was in a way, but it was in the wrong place. Rather than being outside of his body, that little twitch was inside. "This is all wrong." # Three days had passed. Vincent had spent all of them in bed with the curtains drawn. Except for the occasional plod to the bathroom (an unpleasant remind of his new form), and quick T.V. Dinners in the kitchen (where he could barely stand the sight of his new slender hands, and the feel of his soft breasts pushing against his rough bathrobe), he remained as unconscious as possible. Katy had had enough. "UP!" She whipped the curtains open, whipped the covers from his white, naked body, getting a strong whiff of his unwashed sex. It was not the old musk he was used to, but a decidedly more pungent female odor. Vincent tried to curl up into himself. She grabbed at his ankle and couldn't help noticing the abrasive quality of her husband's new legs. Stubble. God, how could he stand it? "Leave me alone!" She placed a hand on Vince's new soft thick auburn hair, now greasy and tangled almost beyond repair. He's going to have to condition the hell out of it, she thought. "Look, sweetheart. You're stuck this way until our next meeting. That's in a month. You can't stay in bed until then." "Watch me." She smirked. "Let me put it another way. I'm not going to let you stay in bed." Vincent's green eyes glared at her with defiance. Even in his disgusting, unwashed state, she had to admit, he'd turned out beautifully. She began to notice what he'd always said, that a girl's attractiveness increased in direct proportion to her emotion: face flushed, eyes narrowed, clear and sparkling, lips plump with the increased blood flow that intense emotion wrought, all signals to a man calling for an equal opposite reaction. One good blood flow deserved another. Katy blinked and realized, with great surprise, that she'd just felt the first effects of the spell. They still had quite a bit to talk about. Grabbing Vincent's slender wrist, grabbing Vincent's slender ankle, Katy began the process of hauling his lazy ass out of bed. Vincent tried to kick her, but didn't have the chance. She pulled him from the mattress until he tumbled onto the floor. It was quite a surprise when she saw tears spring to his eyes. He looked up at her with a queer expression, rubbing her sore bottom. If Katy hadn't known better, she would've sworn that her husband, in his new female body, with his new soft, baby skin features, was pouting. "Ow." He wrapped his thin arms around himself, hugging himself, squeezing his breasts together, pressing them against himself. Strangely, doing so was highly comforting. "I can," Katy said, "and will drag your lazy ass all over this house. You're not nearly strong enough to stop me." It was true. Vincent was now six inches shorter than his wife, weighed less, and due to his sleeping regiment for the last three days, too weak to fight. "Fine. Drag me anywhere you want. I'll just come back here." Katy sighed. "Okay. Fine. I didn't want to do this, but once again you leave me no choice." He continued to pout. With his reddish brown curls, his soft face, still puffy from sleep, he resembled no one less than Shirley Temple. She reached into a drawer and pulled out a small square, a red tile. She stuck it in his face. "What color is this?" His eyes blinked. He seemed confused for a moment, but then his face relaxed. "It's blue." She put the red square down and squatted before him. "It's not really blue, is it?" he asked, feeling strangely heavy. Katy caressed his soft cheek with the back of her hand. "No, sweetheart." As his eyes closed, as he felt his body sag, he managed a last hushed word. "Damn." # He was strangely calm. He was able to resist it from time to time, but never for very long. "Is it so bad? Being female?" He shrugged. "I don't know." "It's just different is all." "Why... why would you do this to me?" "You know why." "Because I didn't leave you a choice." "Yes." "I wish I could take that back." "I know, sweetheart." "What are you going to do to me now?" She placed her hand on top of his, noticing how his robe had fallen open. She tore her eyes away from his breasts. "I don't want to do anything." "But you could." "Yes." "Can I stand?" She hesitated. "Can I trust you not to do something stupid?" "Yes." She snapped her fingers in front of him. "Wake up!" He blinked his eyes, took an extra deep breath, and stretched a little. Not too much, because that kind of motion meant feeling things move around that he didn't want to think about. He got to his feet, feeling weak and unsteady, feeling parts of his thighs touch where they never had before. He resisted inspecting that part of his body. "So what now?" "Now we make the best of it." "So what, I start painting my nails and squealing every time I see a girl friend?" "Christ, Vincent, you act like it's a curse. You're still you. The only that has changed is your body." He stared at her, wide-eyed. "That's enough, don't you think?" He walked toward the bedroom. Not the bed again. "Where are you going?" she asked. "Where do you think? I'm ripe." "You're going... to take a bath?" "Well, a shower." She watched as he dropped the robe, as his soft dimpled ass came into view, felt a rush through herself like she used to have when she thought about his... "Want some company?" He looked like he'd just swallowed his tongue. "Are you serious?" She blushed. "Yes." "Are you are you I mean, you don't..." "There's some things you should know." "Well, shit, my body might be totally fucking foreign to me, but I think I can manage a shower." She winced. "You know, when you cursed as a man, I always kind of liked it. It was rough, sort of manly. But now..." Vince laughed. "You're shitting me." "Well, now it just sounds...." "What?" Katy sauntered up close, began to strip. "Well... kind of trampy." He laughed. The old male part of his brain prodded him to close the distance between them. Only now things were strangely off kilter. For one, he realized he was gazing slightly up at her, instead of down. It certainly put a different spin on things. He couldn't sweep her into his arms anymore, couldn't demand her body. His soft, curvy body could only request, suggest, part with desire. He tried not to think about it. In her bra and panties, Katy started to respond, started to drape her arms around his shoulders, but at the last second she retreated. "Christ... you stink." # They were soaped up and as slick as eels. He couldn't deny the truly spectacular quality of it all. It was like a fantasy come true. Sure, he'd seen his wife's attributes plenty of times, plenty enough for them to become less like a lusty stripper and more like a housewife's, but now he had his, er, her own body to add to the equation. Katy massaged shampoo into his thick hair, while he watched her breasts bob up and down. He eased forward timidly, knowing she didn't have a lesbian bone in her body, but too aroused to not try. Vincent brushed his nipples across hers, hoping she would think nothing of it. He knew she'd get wise soon, but for now he could enjoy it. He eased forward and let his luscious breasts slip soapily over hers. He couldn't help himself now. Without thinking, he raised his hands until the underside of Katy's wet, slippery breasts were in his small palms. Katy retreated a step, gazed down into Vincent's new, cautious green eyes. His lashes were so long, skin so pale, cheeks pink from the hot water, lips softened and moist, the tip of Vincent's new tongue dashing across them.... Katy's lips were suddenly on his. Vincent was in the middle of a kiss before his mind realized what was happening. He could hear the echoes of their moans, echoes of their lips smacking, the sound of the water droning away behind it all. It felt... different. Katy's lips had always been soft; she spent her life in Chapstick and moisturizers; but his felt ultra soft now, too. They felt fuller, were fuller, and he could swear they were more sensitive. Maybe he was just incredibly excited, but he was certain he'd never felt a kiss in his nipples before. Katy's tongue slipped inside his mouth, not far, but enough to make contact with his wet, rolling tongue. She pushed him slowly back against the cool tiles. Vincent's shoulders shivered; his arms wound up under hers. So odd. Usually he was the aggressor, but she was so much taller, and he, frankly, was still in disbelief that she would touch him in his current curvaceous form. Katy's hand slipped down his body, fingers gliding lightly down over his soapy breasts, tweaking a rubbery erect nipple as it went, down across his soft belly, laying over his now female mound, cupping it, pressing. When their kiss broke, Vincent heard a very girly moan escape his own very girly lips. A whisper escaped them next. "What what are you doing?" "I've been trying to tell you," Katy breathed into Vincent's small ear, and began nibbling her way down her neck. "The spell didn't just change you." Katy's fingers pressed together. Her hand slipped down, fingers flexed up, and for the first time, Vincent felt what it was like to have his lips parted. Tingles ran down his legs, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. He felt his thighs tighten uncontrollably around Katy's hand. He placed a hand on Katy's arm, gripping it as pleasure blossomed in his female body. Katy whispered into his ear. "Shhh, just relax. Just sit back and feel. You're on the other side of it all now. Let yourself be passive and feeling. Just enjoy the sensations of your new body." Katy licked his ear, held it in her teeth, bit down until Vincent gasped, until Vincent responded with a flood around her hands. "That's my girl." Katy's hand seemed to flounder for a moment, then Vincent felt a sudden burst of pleasure. It jolted him and Katy giggled. "I think we just found your clitoris." Katy's fingers plunged deeper, one finger moving up, up, to a place Vincent had never felt before. One finger curled in the indiscriminate hot folds, curled up until they found a place that seemed to almost buzz. "You have to tell me what feels better," Katy whispered, her lips on Vincent's neck, "this?" Katy's finger made quick movements deep inside Vincent. His head fell back against the tile. It was too quick. Almost annoying. Where was that clitoris again? He wanted more of that. "Or this?" Katy's finger pressed slowly, began to slip back and forth, her hand pressing in and out, making slurpy sounds. Vincent felt a tiny little buzz of pleasure inside and suddenly a surge of wetness. The buzz seemed to spread, to expand. As Katy repositioned herself to get closer, Vincent felt pressure on his clitoris. The buzz grew to a warm pulsing pleasure. "What does that feel like?" Katy giggled. Vincent moaned. Katy's fingers stopped. Vincent's eyes popped open. "What are you doing?" Katy grinned. "Answer me or I won't continue." Vincent sighed. It was that old game. He'd teased her mercilessly in bed, making her say things, making her promise to do things before he'd deliver an orgasm. Now, she was turning the tables. Katy's thumb rubbed over his clitoris. Vincent felt herself react, moaning, panting. "Answer or I won't " "It feels different," Vince replied in a hurry. "My clit feels feels almost normal, like the underside of my penis, but that other thing..." "This?" Katy grinned and began curling her finger up inside him, pressing the pad of her finger slowly against that delicious internal spot that was driving him crazy. Vince nodded with a furrowed brow. Katy recognized the expression; she'd felt it enough times. Pleasure so intense it turns your smile upside down; your whole world for that matter. "I can't believe you're doing this," Vincent moaned. Katy breathed in his ear. "Each of us gave you part of ourselves, sweetheart." There was a building sensation. Vince felt his body tensing, his thighs squeezing together, crushing Katy's poor hand, his pelvis pivoting upward, his knees trembling. "And you freely accepted, but we also took part of you. I thought it was only fair," Katy bit his neck hard, eliciting a gasp and a moan from him, "that I get your libido." Katy's thumb brushed against Vince's clitoris. The dam broke. # Katy laid beside Vincent, letting her fingers slip lightly across his belly. Vincent giggled and squirmed, his new voice sounding more girly than ever. "Tickle?" Katy hummed in his ear. Vincent grinned. "You know it does. You're doing to me what I always do to you." Her fingertips glided down to his thighs. "And how does it feel?" Vincent's soft pretty cheeks reddened. He turned his face away and felt the tug of his voluminous hair. He whispered, "You know how it feels." Katy snuggled up and began kissing his neck. "Tell me." A voice that sounded nothing like her husband responded, breathy and soft and amazed. "Wonderful." Katy swept her hand across his thighs. "Oh, you forgot to shave." "Well, I got distracted." "Well, let's go do it now." Vincent groaned. "Oh, let's not." "Why?" "I don't know. I just don't want to." Katy sat up and leaned over him. "What do you always say when my legs aren't soft and smooth?" Vincent rolled his pretty green eyes, groaned again. "You're going to make me, aren't you?" Katy's eyes were still as dazzling as ever. Vincent felt his breath catch in his throat. Things almost felt normal, except for the very real twinges of both his extended nipples. She grabbed his tiny hand and pulled. There was the slightest squeal in her voice as she said, "C'mon, it'll be fun!" She had him sit on side of the tub while she applied cream to his long legs. He tried not to roll his eyes, but she'd caught him more than once. He groaned from time to time, but had to admit, there was something nice about it. Just the idea actually of one girl shaving another girl's legs, and the fact that he was experiencing it first hand, was tenderizing him in all the right places. If she suggested painting his toenails, he wasn't sure he'd be able to say no. Katy scraped the little pink razor down the side of his calf. "You'll see. Laying in bed together will be a whole new experience." He sighed heavily. "How long do I have to stay like this again?" She gave him a quirky half-smile. "Why don't you just imagine an entire month of our soft, smooth bodies squirming against one another." He couldn't help noticing the twinges in his nipples again. "Here," she handed him the razor, "your turn." He managed to restrain his rolling eyes and groaning. Did the razor have to be pink? He started scraping at his left shin and thought Katy was going to have a cow. "Gentle!" she warned. "This isn't your rough old man face, you know." "Okay, okay." Gently, he applied the razor to his left shin, hearing and feeling the bristling of his leg hair. One swipe after another, until there were only streaks of shaving cream on his legs, he gave into the girly activity. When he got up to his thighs, where the hair was so much lighter it was practically non-existent, he stopped. Katy was gazing at his curly auburn thatch. Vincent knew the twinkling eyes of his wife, knew what she was thinking. "Want me to keep going?" Mottled patches of red appeared on her neck and the tops of her breasts, fanned out like pink feathers in her cheeks. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly parched. "Only if you want." He swallowed too, and reached for the cream. # Vincent woke up feeling stretched, worn, and like a woman whose body has been thoroughly used. His thoughts floated back to the night before and a smile captured his lips before he could help it. Maybe it was wrong for a guy to enjoy all the girly feelings he'd been having: all those warm moist sensations; the tingles of his nipples; Katy's hot mouth on his cool breasts; Katy's fingers between his thighs; his newly shaven legs, slick and soft and entangling with her slick, soft legs; their tender bellies pressing together; his nipples pinched between her fingers; flat on his back with his thighs open, with his eyes closed, with his lips bruised by her usually soft mouth, her breath on his neck.... If it was wrong, he was beginning to care less and less. He was so lost in his thoughts, his slender hands wandering around his new curves, remembering the night before, he almost didn't hear the knock at the door. In one of Katy's robes, because it was so much nicer on his female flesh, he shuffled to the front door. When he opened it, a familiar face met him. He started to say hi, felt a hot blush warm his cheeks this was the first time he'd ever faced someone who knew about his condition that wasn't Katy but the woman at the door lifted her hand. In it was a red tile. "What color is it?" The world spun away. # Katy bounced home like a schoolgirl in love. Things had never been bad between her and Vince, until the business about her sorority, but now things were indescribably good. She had bought roses and champagne, chocolate, and other things, lacy things, silk things, anything she could think of to tempt Vincent's new body. She was determined to give him the experience of a lifetime. She was surprised to find the door unlocked. "Vince, sweety? I'm home." She checked the bedroom. Then checked the bathroom. She checked the entire house. "I can't believe it. He went out!" When she found the note, however, her world fell to pieces. Dear Katy, I've been thinking all day about everything that's happened, and I feel I need to discover myself for real and true. Really discover myself. I'm feeling such new things, things I could never have imagined, but now I'm beginning to wonder if it's enough. You did this to me, and as much as I feel I should be angry with you, maybe I'm actually happy you did it. You've given me a whole new world. I promise to call as soon as I get the chance. Please don't be angry. your devoted husband, Vincent # She sobbed herself to sleep, and sobbed herself awake. The house never seemed so big before, so vast, so empty. Food became tasteless. The hours crept by, slow as molasses, filled with one meaningless minute after another. Every breath was a trial, a struggle to bar a new onslaught of sobs. Her life seemed to flee from her body with every sniffle, every thought. She'd never felt such despair before. She found herself drunk and full on ice cream, sick with too much sweets, too much acrid liquor, on the verge of vomiting. She found herself in the master closet, eyeing his clothing, his suits, his shirts and pants and shoes. She found herself nose to nose with his favorite shirt, perpetually dirty, full of holes, inhaling what was left of him, the scent of him, sweat, aftershave, and something else that she could identify only as him. She found herself curled up on the floor with that smelly shirt clutched to her chest. She gazed up and noticed his suitcase. Even in her drunken stupor, she thought it odd that he hadn't taken it with him. Had he packed his things in her suitcase instead? Maybe, since he was now very female, maybe, he decided it was more appropriate to wear her clothes, use her suitcase, but her case was still here as well. She began to wonder what clothes he'd taken with him. She rifled through them, all his favorites, then slapped her forehead and cursed her foolishness. He wouldn't have taken his clothes; they'd hardly fit anymore. She browsed her own. Nothing seemed to be missing. Would he have left with nothing? Wearing only the clothes on his back? Maybe he'd decided to buy a whole new wardrobe. To do this, he'd have to use his credit cards, which he could probably get away with, but that meant she might be able to track him somehow. Or at least tell where he'd used them last. She started for their files to find all his account numbers, but stopped short when she noticed, sitting on the dresser where he always kept it, his wallet. Something was very wrong. # He awoke sheathed in silk. The sheets were crisp, luxurious, perfumed. He had no memory of leaving, of arriving. He remembered answering the door, then nothing. His first movements brought the sensation of his breasts lurching to the side, banging softly together in a very pleasurable, intimate way. Perhaps it was the sheets, but he felt softer than before. He splayed his fingers in his thick, auburn hair and was surprised to feel how light and clean it felt, how smooth and silky. Someone had bathed him, moisturized him, pampered him to a degree he couldn't fathom. He'd been powdered, perfumed, and primped to within an inch of his life. He had the sudden sensation of having been fattened for the kill. A dark oaken door swung open, and a tall woman entered. A shower of golden blonde ringlets cascaded down over her shoulders, her face framed by short, hard bangs. Her blue eyes were clear and sparkling. Vincent couldn't help but notice the ridiculous maid's uniform she was wearing. A ruffled black mini skirt, much too short to conceal her peachy bottom, black thong with white lace, a bodice layered impossibly deep with white ruffles and black bows somehow finding a way to reveal more cleavage than he ever thought possible, puffy sleeves, white thigh-high hose and black platform heels with a tight strap around each ankle. Ridiculously tight, ridiculously revealing, a man's wet dream of a servile porn queen. He would've laughed had she not looked so amazingly beautiful. "I see the princess is awake." She had one of those little girl voices that used to drive him nuts as a man. Although, he was still a man, and it should be driving him nuts, but for some reason, it wasn't. If anything, he resented it a little. As if she were trying to be more female than him, trying to be more attractive, trying to shame him somehow. "Where where am I?" Vince felt his voice quiver and hated it. He missed the deep, naturally commanding nature of his old voice. "You're with Mistress. I'm Samantha. I'm training you for her." He didn't like the sound of that at all. "Look, you can't do this. You people..." "Stand up." Vincent gathered the silken sheets around him, noticing for the first time that he was not just topless, but naked. "Go to hell." Samantha's smile was out of place. It was sweet and caring as if Vince had just explained how much he loved kittens. "Did you hear me?" Vince asked. "Yes, of course." Vince stared at her. She wasn't deaf; was she stupid? "I want a phone and... I want to call my wife." "In a little while all your needs will be cared for." "Look, I won't call the police... yet. I just want to go home. Okay?" What he really wanted was his body back. He wished he'd never started this whole thing. Who cared what Katy's witch friends did? Samantha leveled him with her deep blue eyes, smiling all the way. She gave him a sisterly nod of understanding. "Everything you want, you can have, but you have to work with me a little here. Just do what I tell you. You'll see how wonderful it is. Stand up and follow me. Now. Okay?" "You kidnapped me! I'm not going anywhere with you or that that bitch!" Samantha clasped her hands in front her, leaned forward slightly. Vince could just imagine what she was revealing from behind. "I tell you what. You do everything I tell you for the next ten minutes, and you'll be free to leave. You can walk right out the front door and no one will lift a finger to stop you." It was a deal of sorts. But he shouldn't have to deal at all. None of this should be happening. Cautiously, he considered it. "What do you mean by everything?" Her cheerleader giggle tickled his interest. "I'm not going to make you kill someone or anything!" "So... I just do whatever you tell me for ten minutes, and then I can leave." She nodded, and her golden blonde ringlets bounced. "If you still want to." Why wouldn't he want to? "But you're just going to tell me to do something you know I won't do." She shook her head and her blue eyes sparkled. "Nope. I'll tell you right now what I'll tell you to do. You just have to stand up and follow me to another room and then I'll tell you to stand there and then I'll have you get dressed. Nothing weirdo or perverted. Nothing that you wouldn't do on your own." "What's the catch?" She sucked on the plump lower lip of her sensuous mouth. "You'll just have to see. I couldn't begin to describe it." "But there is a catch." She smiled. He had to bide his time. Sooner or later, he'd either fight his way out or find a phone. "Fine. Ten minutes." Samantha smiled again. # She had a plan. If he hadn't taken his wallet, or any clothing, then it was likely he hadn't left of his own volition. Forcing him to go willingly was easy, of course, using the trigger she'd left in his mind, but there were only four people who knew about it, and that meant the unthinkable: betrayal. There was no way to know which of them it might be, not for sure, but there was a way to find out. The natural suspect was Carolyn, who seemed to dislike him intensely. What would she want with him? What would she do to him? The four letters she'd written had probably arrived by now, and she was on her way. That meant she had maybe a week and several thousand miles to figure out who was behind it all. Her plane landed, on time, in Washington. First things first. She would pay Carolyn a visit. Start with the most suspicious. She took a cab to Carolyn's home, a fixer-upper house she'd been working on as long as Katy had known her. Katy had always thought it looked a little like a witch house. Carolyn answered her door promptly on the first ring and appeared to be genuinely surprised. Her blue eyes widened. Her jet-black hair which was normally so shiny and straight and perfect was dull and greasy. She'd been caught off guard. The ice queen would never have shown up to a coven meeting looking like this. "Katy?" "May I come in?" Katy stammered, but retreated to let her enter. "I'm I'm so sorry to hear about Vince. I can't imagine what..." Katy turned on her heels, moved uncomfortably close to her friend. "Was it you?" Carolyn's ice cream skin turned whiter. "What do you mean?" "You know what I mean. I didn't say everything in the letter. Vincent didn't leave on his own. He had some help." Carolyn broke out in a cold sweat. Her lips began to quiver. "I don't I don't understand." Katy watched her friend shrivel before her eyes. "That sickness you're feeling is because you read my letter. It was dusted with a very fine powder which you couldn't help but inhale. It works off very specific chemicals in the brain. Chemicals associated with feelings of guilt." Carolyn doubled over and began to sob. She issued a couple of dry retches and reached her hand out to Katy. "You don't understand." "I know you're feeling guilty about something or you wouldn't be feeling the way you are now." Carolyn fell to her knees, and began to shake violently. She began to pant uncontrollably. "You you were always good with potions." "Where is he?" "I don't I don't have him. I didn't " "Then why are you feeling so sick?" Carolyn sobbed. "Because because... please, stop it." "Not until I get the truth." Carolyn nodded passionately. "First, the truth," Katy said and gazed down at her friend without remorse. "Vince Vince and I..." Carolyn couldn't catch her breath; she went into the dry heaves. Katy patted her back, stroked her dirty hair. "It's okay. Just take a deep breath and tell me." "We used to be... together." "I know that already." Katy had always wondered what had happened. Vince had said that they just hadn't connected, and that he'd made a mistake in staying with her as long as he had. It was only a few months, but a few months to a woman in love is an eternity. "So... I never I never stopped..." Dry heaves again. That's some serious guilt you have going on there, Katy was tempted to say. "Go on." "I love him." Katy stepped back, stunned, cheeks on fire. "You... mean you loved him." Carolyn shook her head. "No... no...." Katy's eyelids wouldn't stop blinking. "But but you hate him." "No... no... for you. I love you too." It burst through her like the sun through looming storm clouds. Vince had met her through Carolyn. He and Carolyn had been through for months, of course, but even then Katy had discussed him with her, gotten her permission, sort of. Carolyn from the start had been pretending to hate him. At first, probably in hopes that she wouldn't date him, then later, because they'd been so happy together. She still loved Vince, but loved Katy, too. It was so much easier to hate him than admit the truth. Katy dug in her pocket for a small vial. With a dab on her finger, she rubbed it across Carolyn's lips who began to feel relief in mere seconds. She looked down at her friend who resembled nothing less than a drowned kitten. "I'm so sorry, Carolyn. But..." Carolyn nodded. "I would've done the same." # Samantha placed her hand on a timer, her slender fingers draped delicately over it, nails painted light pink. She'd set it for ten minutes and all that remained was to tap the start button. "Ready?" Vince pulled the silky sheets tighter around his soft, naked female body, feeling much too vulnerable already. "Yes." The digital readout began to tick, its glowing red numbers changing from 10:00 to 9:59. Samantha's platform heels clicked their way over to him. She stood before him and smiled tenderly while he tried to ignore her. Quietly, she said, "Stand up." Vince took a deep breath, gathered the sheets around him, and stood. At once, his body began to tingle from head to toe. His temple and forehead began to buzz; there was a trickle of tickles down his spine; his womanly nipples plumped to life, filling with heat, spreading outward into his breasts; his lips moistened until they felt as if they were perspiring. His eyes closed helplessly; his body stretched taut, helplessly; his toes curled, helplessly; his tongue lapped across his lips, helplessly. Samantha placed her palm on his feverish cheek, whispering. "It feels good. Doesn't it?" Vince tried to nod, but couldn't finish. He could only stand with his eyes closed, dripping with pleasure, soaking in it, a bath of pure pleasure. His mouth dropped open, neck relaxed, and he heard a soft gasp leave him. "... Oh... God...." Samantha grinned. "Open your eyes." He hesitated, afraid he'd lose the feeling, but parted his long auburn lashes and felt a new wave of pleasure. He nearly couldn't stand it. It was too much, too good, someone had taken away his spirit of defiance and replaced it with a body of sheer delight. Samantha peered into his eyes as if peeking into his brain. She saw the ecstasy and smiled approvingly. "Drop the sheet." He resisted, for a second, not even that, and the pleasure dropped away. He was normal again, but normal was no longer normal, it was a terrible void, a terrible absence of pleasure. He dropped the sheets and the pleasure hit him, harder than before, shaking him. Before he could stop himself, he surrendered to it, completely, letting it absorb him, letting it steal all his waking thoughts. The sheet fell in a tumble around his feet, his womanly curves revealed. "... God...." Samantha cooed, suddenly intimately close. "It's just... irresistible, isn't it?" He nodded, acutely aware of the beads of sweat on his arms and legs, of the delicious smell of his perfumed armpits, of the flesh on flesh contact of his inner thighs, of Samantha's wonderful voice that could so easily deliver such wonderful pleasure with every syllabic click of her wet tongue. His eyelids were heavy and only partly open. His slender arms wound around his female flesh, his palms hot against the cool skin of his broad hips, belly trembling inside out with delectable tingles that seemed to deepen every moment. But there was a barrier, something holding them back, something that wouldn't let them spread where he most wanted them to go. "Follow me." She started for the door. As he followed, the barrier fell away. The tingles, the pleasure began to drip, drop by drop, stroking some nub inside him that gave him little spurts of delight, bit by bit. The catch he'd been so worried about was simple: after ten minutes, he wouldn't want anything else other than to obey every word that fell from Samantha's pink, parted lips. # Alyssa not only wasn't at home, but the address Katy had been given seemed abandoned and nearly condemned. She hopped back into the taxi and quoted Katy's office address and moments later stood before a male secretary that buzzed her in. Alyssa did not come out of her office to meet Katy, but hopped out of her plush leather chair the moment she saw her. With a quick close of the door, she threw her arms around her friend and made a pouting face. "Bad Vince. He's so naughty. He should know better than to hurt my friend like that." Katy unwrapped Alyssa's arms. "Did you get my letter?" Alyssa bounced away, back to her desk, like a cheerleader on cocaine. "Yeppers! It's right here." "And," Katy checked, sitting across from her as Alyssa reclaimed her chair behind the enormous oak desk, "you read it?" Alyssa squealed. "Of course! How else would I know about Vince silly?" Katy had placed the seal of their coven on each envelope, ensuring that each of her friends would know that they, and only they, were allowed to view its contents. Alyssa showed no sign of nausea or paleness. She seemed as nauseatingly cheerful as always. "Vince didn't leave of his own will. Or, well, he did, sort of, but I think someone used their knowledge of our little spell to force him to leave of his own will. God, I'm not making any sense." Alyssa's frown was as cute as could be, like a sad puppy. "Well... who would've even known about Oh my." "Yes," Katy confirmed. Alyssa relaxed back in her chair; the leather whooshed and creaked. The chair was a monster that dwarfed her. Her eyes settled once again on Katy. "I... I would never, y'know, talk bad about someone, but..." "But what?" Katy wondered. Alyssa sprung forward, eyed Katy directly, hands clasped on the desk. "Well, I mean, it doesn't take a brain surgeon to know how much Carolyn hates him." "I know," Katy admitted. "And that's why I'm here. If it is her I want to know if I can count on your support." Alyssa beamed, her platinum blonde hair backlit by the shining California Sun, making her appear almost angelic. "You betcha." Katy sized her up. No guilt. No reaction. Always the bright bubbly girly-girl. This was definitely not Vince's abductor. Katy got to her feet. "I'm sorry I can't stay. I have to catch a plane. I just wanted to come by and, well, make sure you were on my side." "But what about lunch?" Alyssa fretted. "Maybe next time." "Okay," Alyssa smiled and hopped up to walk her friend to the door. Katy paused with her hand on the knob. "Alyssa, what happened to your house?" "Oh, I had to give it up. It was getting run down. I moved a couple... Oh my! I'm terrible! I forgot to tell you. It's just with everything going on, I must've... Oh please forgive me! You must think..." "Don't worry about it," Katy consoled. "All of our lives get busy from time to time." Alyssa smiled a weepy smile and threw her arms around Katy again, whispering, "You're such a good friend." Even Katy had to wipe away a tear. "So are you." # Those words haunted him now. Those words that Samantha had spoken so easily, knowing full well what they would do to him, although he hadn't a clue. Those words that he now followed, was even now surrendering to each second, but only because each passing second brought more and more of that pleasure, dripping somewhere inside his female belly, perhaps behind his soft naval, perhaps lower, dripping with each tick of the clock. Stand there with your eyes closed and don't move until I return. Each moment he obeyed the instruction, the pleasure increased little by little. He'd heard each click of her heels as she walked away, heard the whine of the door, heard the small scrape, and the clack of the lock. He stood, motionless, in the vast darkness of his closed eyes, and felt his body warming, sending wave after wave of pleasure, each more complete than the last... as long as he didn't move. He had no doubt that if so much as twitched a finger, it would stop, and he didn't want it to stop, couldn't bear if it did. The curls of his long auburn hair were hot on his neck, matted there with sweat, but in the middle of his delicate back, the ends tickled his skin. They lay on his bare girl shoulders and tickled like light feathers and transmitted pleasure. His cheeks were flaming hot, his soft eyelashes intertwined delicately like butterfly wings, his lips dry and pressed together, transmitting tiny spurts of