10/11/99
It seems that almost everyone takes a shot at this, so here's mine. My
apologies if it's not quite up to par, or if I've misused the genre. All of the
usual warnings apply. Permission to archive on any public site
granted.
Spells R Us - Dateless
By Andrea Walker
I'd spent hours wandering the mall looking at girls, hoping to find a date for
Saturday night, but even the food court was no good. The only ones there
were the leftovers, the kind who always go to dances in groups, and I
wasn't about to stoop that low. Yet.
I'm not bad looking, but still a little scrawny at 18. Long and lean, I went
out for the track stuff at school mostly. Usually I have a date lined up for
the weekend by, like, Tuesday, but here I was. Friday afternoon and still
looking.
Feeling kinda down, I wandered aimlessly, all over the mall. I snapped out
of my (self pity?) dazed state of mind when I heard the mall clock ring 15
minutes 'till closing and saw that I was in a part of the mall I hadn't really
paid attention to. No wonder, I thought as I looked around. I was
surrounded by upper-end clothing places, dedicated to selling suits to
yuppies and stuff like that. As I scanned around to get my bearings, I
spotted the edge of the Sears sign down at the end of the hall. I looked
again at where I was, and saw one store that looked seriously wrong in this
area, called "Spells 'R" Us" of all things.
Curious, I wandered in even though I was sure this place hadn't been here a
few minutes ago. A small bell jingled somewhere above the door as it
closed behind me. I had no idea how this place could exist sandwiched
between the high price places in this wing. Everywhere I looked there was
junk. I don't mean novelty crap, I mean junk. It looked like a yard sale
graveyard. I was about to leave when I noticed the old guy behind the
counter wearing some sort of warn out bathrobe.
"Jamie. Oh, I'm sorry. James. You got here just in time. I was about to give
up on you and lock up."
"Huh? How did you..."
Without a word he gestured toward a small plaque beside the cash register
that read "I'm a Wizard. Don't ask."
"I just had it made, I'm terribly tired of answering that one. Now, on to
your problem."
"My problem? Oh, it's nothing..."
"Nonsense," he interrupted me, "there's no reason a person your age should
be without a date for Saturday night."
"How did--?" he gestured impatiently at the plaque again. "Okay. Fine.
How can you help me, then?"
"With this," he placed a small bottle on the display counter.
Okay, I'll play along. "What is it?"
"Just a little something I've been saving for a while."
"Okay, so what's it do?"
"Well, the end result is that the next person the drinker of this potion has
sex with will become that person's perfect fantasy lover."
"Bullshi--, I mean, yeah, right."
"Oh, no. I am quite serious, James. If you were to drink this, and then go
to bed with one of those girls you turned your nose up at a little while ago,
she would transform into your perfect fantasy woman."
I still didn't believe it. "Okay, how much?"
"Well, this is a rare concoction. Shall we say, thirty-five dollars? That's as
low as I can go."
I did some quick math. That would leave me with about forty bucks. More
than enough to take a date to the movies Saturday. I carefully counted out
some fives.
"An excellent choice, James. Now, let me explain. This is not a time
sensitive thing. You could drink it now, or a week from now, or years from
now and it would still have the same result. The next person you have sex
with will become your fantasy."
"Cool, but a month or years doesn't help me with this weekend, does it?"
"No, it wouldn't. But still I have to explain it. Just remember to be
careful."
***
'James, you're a fool' I thought to myself. Thirty-five bucks on a little
bottle of colored water. 'He promised that it would work. It worked all
right. It was great at putting cash in the register, but that's probably it.'
"What the hell," I said uncorking the bottle. It didn't smell like anything,
but it tasted pretty bad. Tossing the empty in the recycling box, I wandered
into the house.
"Mom? Dad? You home?" Looking around, I saw their note.
"James, we're at the Davidson's. Don't wait up. Mom."
"This could be cool," I said to myself. It was already too late to go meet up
with the guys, and as usual TV sucked. "What to do, what to do... The
house to myself and..." I had an idea.
I dropped the magazines from Dad's stash on my bed and kicked back.
Every now and then, you don't need a date. Flipping through recent issues
of Playboy and Penthouse eventually led to other things, as usual. After I
cleaned up and stashed the mags where I'd found 'em, I went and crashed
for the night. Tomorrow was going to be busy. I had to get a date.
***
"Saturday," I thought. "Now, what did I have to do today?" I debated
going back to sleep but decided against it. Raising my arm to look at my
watch, I saw that it was almost 11 o'clock. And more. The watch was a
slim gold woman's model, not my Indiglo Triathlon. On a slim, tanned
woman's arm! My hand was small and delicate, my nails were long and
copper-red. Jumping out of bed was next to impossible, so I carefully
climbed out from between the satin (?!) sheets and looked around. My
whole room was different! Softer colors everywhere, different furniture,
my double bed was now a satin covered queen sized four poster! I took a
deep breath and closed my eyes. I was bombarded with odd sensations as I
shook my head to clear it. Something was tickling my back. Two
somethings were swaying on my chest. Not daring to look down, I made
my way to the full-length mirror I'd seen in the corner.
My perfect fantasy lover, the old man had said. I should have believed
him. I knew I hadn't had sex with anyone... except myself, I guess you
could say.
The image reflected back at me took my breath away. What I'd felt down
my back had been my hair. A stunning cascade of red curls, framing a
gorgeous face with large green eyes under fine brows. High cheekbones
bracketed a delicate nose. Full pouting lips on a mouth that looked just
slightly too large. I reached toward the reflection in the glass, and it
mimicked me perfectly. My eyes were drawn down a slender neck to a set
of shoulder narrower than the breasts that hung like dead weight from my
chest. They were huge! I was so stunned, I barley noticed my tiny waist,
full hips and longish legs. Between which, of course, there was no sign of
what should have been there. I was stunned.
On the dressing table beside the mirror was a small pile of clothing. I took
a quick look at the tiny panties, the stretchy tube of fabric must have been a
dress. But the bra! I picked it up, noticing it was one of the strapless kind
but had some really stiff strips built into it, running up to huge cups. I
fumbled around with it until I figured out how to undo the hooks with my
long nails, and saw the size tag on the inside. Thirty-six TRIPLE D!
"My God... I'm... huge!" I stared at the bra and at my reflection again.
The sight of my own breasts always makes me think that. All natural, too.
As I fastened my bra in place I tried to remember what I was supposed to
do today, and saw the card tucked into the edge of the mirror.
"Jaymi, you silly bitch, you'd forget your head if it wasn't screwed on tight.
That photographer wants you there at two," I told my reflection. After that?
Well, it's Saturday. So many men, so little time...
I thought briefly about the dream I'd had. It was seriously weird. Now, why
would I dream that I was a teen-aged boy, of all things?
Fin
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