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Eric's wife, Chessie, was a brilliant interpreter. That is, she had a knack for translating ambiguous statements and getting the right nuance and the correct words.
She was so good, in fact, that she took a test for the US federal government. When she was graded, Chessie had the highest score in the test's history. She was promptly hired by the US Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals in San Francisco. She spent her time shuttling between 'Frisco, Portland, and Seattle, with occasional trips to Washington, DC.
Eric never went with her. He was content at home, watching the neighbors cut down the huge old oak threatening to crumble their foundation. He liked having his weeknights free to do his freelance illustrations, but he was always eager for Chessie to come home for the weekend.
Chessie was usually called to help with criminal cases involving immigrants or foreigners. She was sometimes asked to assist with civil business cases, lawsuits involving foreign companies or export-import problems.
One of her most useful skills, that made her so good at her job, was her empathetic nature. She could find something about which to sympathize, no matter whom she was representing or opposing. It frustrated defense lawyers and prosecuting attorneys alike that she simply loved people and wanted their words to come out just right.
She read and spoke Spanish and French fluently and translated from and too these languages flawlessly. She could also speak Italian, Portuguese, and Romanesque. And she loved to read the classics in Latin.
Chessie was rarely wrong—and when she was, she always told on herself. "I hate to mislead the court," she'd say. "But when I heard Senor Garcia said he 'shot the cat in self-defense', I believe he meant 'the rat' since he is frightened and struggling with his words. In any case, I would have to say he said 'the rat' and let the court weigh this language issue."
At home, Chessie never talked about her work. She and Eric had too many other sweet things to whisper in the other's ear. They were so deeply in love, especially on long weekends after she was gone several days.
"I missed you so much," she told Eric, snuggling into his arms. "I couldn't wait to get back here."
As can be expected, their romantic life was idyllic and they took great store in being able to increase the pleasure of the other. Chessie, in particular, loved being treated like royalty in the bedroom, although she never acted spoiled or demanding. It was something Eric wanted to do for her and she realized that by accepting his ministrations, she was returning the compliment.
It came as a surprise for Eric, when she perked up one day and said she'd always dreamed of being a cat. "I wake up thinking about it," she said, to his incredulity. "But not a whole cat, just parts. I still want a human body and my own hair—and breasts, you know. But I think it would be so-o-o-o sexy to have whiskers and ears, and a tail, and fur and claws. Awe, it'll never happen."
It took him twice as long to make Chessie feel better. Neither ever knew if it was her sadness over not getting her wish, or his perplexity over how to address the desire. After that, she was careful not to reveal the yearning—which became a small wedge in their previously perfect relationship.
One of Chessie's favorite haunts was a bookstore downtown, filled floor to old-fashioned high ceiling with used and antique books. It was just two blocks north of the courthouse, so she skipped lunch and went there during the court's noon recesses.
She read anything that stimulated her interest, from old classics to hard-back gothic romances.
She also read matchbooks, cookbooks, and textbooks—anything that caught her eye. Chessie told Eric once that she'd examined a volume on maintenance of railroad steam locomotives. "It was fascinating," she said. "I had no idea such a huge machine would be so sensitive to subtleties."
"And you know what else I learned? My name was the name of a train, The Chessie, between Washington, DC, and Chicago. It had its own emblem, with a picture of a kitten sleeping on a pillow.
They both looked down at the kitten purring and rubbing its head on Eric's trouser leg. He'd picked it out of the pet store as a special present for Chessie, in hopes that it would appease her impudent, but never again mentioned, desire to be a cat. It was a tiny calico with great big eyes.
The calico, Nessa, loved to sit on Chessie's lap and lick her fingers. It sat on Eric's lap, too, but as an artist, he washed his hands too many times each day to have much salt for the cat to lick. For either of them, Nessa would purr and sometimes let out dear little squeaks of contentment.
The other thing about Chessie was that she was barren. She'd had one ovary crushed in a car accident just after high-school, and the other dropped eggs that were always infertile. More than anything, this caused a great deal of sadness for her, which she could never quite share with Eric.
He did his best to bring her out of her crying spells, bringing her gifts—like Nessa—and making sure she knew he loved her. For Eric, there was no other woman who could attract him as did Chessie. He was her devoted slave, husband, and lover.
So the cat was a surrogate child to them both. Eric didn't care whether he had children or not, but he never said this to Chessie. The took turns cuddling Nessa, listening to her purr, and dangling strings for her to bat with her tiny paws.
Chessie never told Eric that she'd found the precise book she wanted. It was a book of spells. It was written in very old Latin and she worked hard to interpret its archaic terminology. She didn't know, at first, if it was legitimate, but after some testing of the simpler enchantments, she was happily convinced.
And that's where she found that spells have a magic timing that people just can't rush. There were time sequences defined in the spells which enhanced or, when ignored, defeated their effectiveness. There were occasions when they might work one way, and different times when they might reverse themselves.
The bonus was a spell near the back of the book—a lengthy, complex work that took her almost a month to decipher into modern Latin. She wasn't about to risk translating it into English or even Spanish. And she was still not sure about one word, which could mean either of two very different things.
Unfortunately, either meaning fit the context, so Chessie couldn't use that to check her work. She agonized over the direction she should lean, and finally settled on the one that also had almost the same meaning in even older Romanesque.
The spell was supposed to make women fertile and able to bear children, but there were other shadings. She confessed to herself an ignorance which bothered her a little at the same time it goaded her to seek the riddle's solution.
Though the fertility spell hinted at a timing sequence, Chessie was baffled by the placement of the single odd word. Without knowing exactly the author's true meaning, she couldn't ascertain when to invoke the spell. Should it be immediately before reaching orgasm? Or just afterward? Once more, Chessie pursued her secret study. Success would release her from the sorrows of child-lessness.
Finally, having made up her mind to use the spell with its Romanesque definition, she began plotting the time to have Eric impregnate her. Chessie determined that it should happen immediately following a November trip to the federal capital and she settled her mind on a date and time. Her monthly cycle was a major consideration in the decision.
It helped that she was actually gone a full six days, the case having spilled into a Saturday morning session. By the time she flew in, Eric was beside himself with eagerness. Things followed swiftly and Chessie suddenly found herself at the moment. As Eric brought her to the finale, she muttered the spell under her breathe. And then climaxed.
There was a stifled squeak from Nessa, who'd been laying on the floor purring. Suddenly, Chessie was herself overcome with the urge to purr and she couldn't stop herself. She felt her ears and cheeks tingle and suddenly her tailbone ached. Within seconds, she was also covered with fur, surprising Eric but not herself.
Chessie realized she'd put the wrong meaning to the mystery word—that she had invoked a spell combining herself with the kitten. In fact, afterward they could not find Nessa; she was gone forever.
But as she fought back disappointment, Chessie hoped that saying the spell with the other, more romanticized word, would reverse the effects of the spell. She said it quickly but it did not work as she expected.
Instead, Eric gave a stifled squeak like Nessa's. And then he started to purr as well from the just completed coitus. His purr diminished as he grew an identical coat of fur.
And worse, from Chessie's view, were the breasts he suddenly had pressed against hers. His penis disappeared, leading him to gasp, "Oh, gawd, it burns. Geezus, I feel like I have to cum again but it itches like crazy way up inside. What am I to do … oh dear, oh dear gawd, it itches. Help me, Chessie, help me."
She got out of bed and fumbled in her dresser, pulling out an old vibrator she'd never gotten rid of. The batteries still worked, barely, as she switched it on and aimed it up Eric's new vagina. Ramming in and out, she brought him to climax and he collapsed weakly.
"Oh, Eric, I'm so sorry, honey," she wept, tears streaming down her furry cheeks. "I'm so sorry. I ruined everything. I should never have done this. Oh, Eric, oh, honey, I'm sorry."
He reached out a hand—a paw, really—and stroked her head. Her purr ignited, almost against her will. "What … what happened? What did you do?"
"It was a magic spell," she whispered. "I thought it would make me pregnant but I guess it made me and Nessa into a single … person … entity. And then I tried to reverse it but you got caught up. Now look. We're identical twins."
Chessie burst into great wracking sobs, her calico-covered breasts swelling uncontrollably. Eric, torn by his desire that she never be hurt and his revulsion at these changes, kept his paws on her as she worked out the grief.
When she caught her breath, he pulled her close and kissed her on the lips, as best that could be managed since their mouths had been modified into semblances of cat mouths. She didn't resist but found his new breasts with her paws and began massaging them.
It made instrinctive sense that Eric would still think of himself as "he" and Chessie would remain designated as the "she" in their partnership—even though the distinction was moot to observers. There would follow a long morning of self- and co-recrimination, as they each blamed themselves for not being sensitive enough, but for the moment … and the future, it was easy to find relief and orgasm in a lesbian embrace.
Chessie never told the court she was gone. Eric telephoned his clients that he was unable to finish their work and he wasn't lying—with no fingers, he couldn't use the keyboard anymore. They moved north to a cabin owned by her uncle way up a tiny creek, where they took in stray cats who seemed to know unerringly that Eric and Chessie loved them and would care for them. Their pets taught them to catch mice, and they discovered the vermin actually had a pleasant taste—to their now cat-like tastebuds.
Oh, and Chessie discovered that she made the correct choice of wording in the first place. She found herself indeed pregnant by Eric's final shot—and since he was now her mirror twin, he was also pregnant. They had two pairs of twins, a boy and a girl each, covered with the softest of fur and born with their eyes sealed like kittens.