Bad Magic Ch. 03

"Is it clear?" I asked from the shadows.

Jake was standing in the open space between the two buildings. He looked right, left, then signaled me.

I still wasn't sold on his plan, but what choice did I have? It had been difficult enough scaling the stairs back up to the libraries lobby. My sagging jeans had fought me the entire way, refusing to stay anchored to my swaying hips. My knuckles were bone white and ached. I wanted to let go, but my hand was the only thing keeping them from falling off.

Sadly, I'd also discovered my shoes no longer fit. I'd already launched them off my feet twice. Then there was the hair, the bloody long hair. It was a nuisance. I was constantly swatting it away from my face.

Focus, I thought. Ignore the inconvenience and focus.

I stepped out of sanctuary of the shade and approached him.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked.

"Absolutely. It's actually a lucky coincidence, the library is right next door to one of our team's facilities. Look..." he said, and pulled out a laminated card with his picture on it from his wallet.

"They gave us all our own swipe cards. With this, I can sneak you in through the side door and no one will ever be the wiser."

I still wasn't convinced.

"And this is like what, a gym? What use is that to me?"

"Well, it has a gym, weight rooms, showers, change rooms... it's used by the girls lacrosse and cheerleading team. It's fully stocked, which means there are plenty of spare uniforms."

"And what, you want me to just wander around in there until I find a stash of spare uniforms? Won't I look a little suspicious?"

"Trust me, you'll fit right in."

He swiped the card over the plastic keypad. It beeped and unlocked. He pulled the door open and stepped aside.

"Go straight down this hallway, turn right, count three doors and then turn left and that'll get you to the change rooms"

"And you know this how?" I asked.

He flashed me a waxed smile that was as slick as a used car salesman.

"All right. I'll be back, don't lose the book." I said.

He pointed to his backpack where he'd stored the magical book.

"We'll be here, waiting for you, and I promise, no light reading."

I turned, stepped through the door, and felt the cool artificial air. The door slowly closed behind me and I heard a loud thunk, as the bolt locked. The interior of the hallway was in sharp contrast to the old antiquities library. Soft fluorescent light reflected off the polished floors. The thick concrete walls were painted white with colorful horizontal stripes; the team colors I assumed. Everything sparkled and felt new.

I started to feel my anxiety ramp up. If I was stopped, how would I explain myself? I had nothing on me that proved I was even a student at the university, and if I started to ramble on about strange transformations and a magical book they'd probably call the cops on me. Running was out of the question. With my luck, I'd trip over a shoe lace, slip out of my sagging jeans and fall flat on my face.

Just stay as cool as a cucumber, I thought. Remember, you look the part, so just act it.

I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and pretended to be focused on it. My other hand was still locked onto my jeans. I tried to make it look as natural as possible. Yep, nothing interesting to see here, I thought, just another student wandering down an empty hallway

But, it wasn't empty, was it? There were other students, I saw them in the corner of my eye. Had they noticed me? I didn't look up, afraid my lying eyes would give me away.

When they I was at a safe distance, I peeked. They were cheerleaders, two of them. Both wore matching uniforms. I felt a sudden ache in the pit of my stomach, that was the uniform? There was no way I could pull it off, it was so... so skimpy. The top was skin tight, cropped, the neck line cut like a knife. The short skirt flared out, separated like piano keys in a repeating pattern.

Subtlety was not something the outfit dabbled in. It radiated raw sexuality like a beacon. Boy, girl, it didn't matter, if you had the guts to strut around in that get-up, all eyes would be glued to you.

I tried to picture myself wearing it, my legs naked, exposed, my ass at the mercy of the hem of the tiny skirt. Flaunt it, I thought, why not? Unshackle those hips, let them run wild, and swing like a pendulum in a delirious clock.

I felt two competing emotions; bone chilling fear and blind curiosity. They mixed like oil and water, pitted against each other, yet neither gaining an upper hand.

I didn't know exactly what to expect, but I knew there was only one way to find out.

I kept my head low, stayed close to the wall and followed Jakes's directions. Wait... was it a left or a right after the three doors? I couldn't remember. I looked around, searching for a clue.

I heard the faint sound of water beating against a tiled floor. Showers, I thought and followed it. I turned a corner, saw an illustrated sign and found myself facing the girl's change room. I hesitated, held back by an old memory. Entry to this sacred place was prohibited - No boys allowed.

Well, lucky for me, I'm not a boy, I thought.

I crossed the threshold and stepped into the change room. The room was a long rectangular box. Two rows of wooden benches were set up in front of a wall of metal lockers. I counted five girls in total, spread out, in the process of dressing or undressing. None of them looked up. In the back was the entrance to the showers. Beside it was a small cubby hole separated into several smaller nooks, stocked with fresh folded uniforms. It looked like it had been lifted directly from a popular retail store, not that I would know. Most of my clothes were generic bargain bin no-names, ranging in color from drab to muted. Fashion was not my forte. On a good day, both of my socks matched.

I hugged the lockers, trying to avoid being sucked into any of the cheerleader's orbits. I passed close to one. She was seated on the bench, wrapped in a white towel. She let it drop, and just like that, she was naked.

That's odd, I thought as I passed by. I hadn't looked, why hadn't I looked? Normally, it would have been a knee jerk reaction, one I'd learned to squash after years of practice... and yet, the idea hadn't even occurred to me. She'd dropped her towel, and I'd just... strolled on by, like it was nothing out of the ordinary. And why wouldn't I, to compare? Don't be so foolish.

That's not why you didn't look, a voice from deep in my brain said softly, it's because...

It's nothing I thought, stay focused; uniform, magic spell, back to normal.

I kept moving, weaving around the open sports bags and discarded sneakers.

I reached the cubbies.

There was one nook for the tops, one for the skirts, one for... were they shorts or panties? They were tiny, branded with the team's colors, which made sense, why not fly the home flag when you were being hoisted up on someone's shoulders?

There were even sets of shoes with matching socks near the floor. They really had thought of everything, hadn't they?

There was also what looked like sports bras. Perfect, I thought, finally something to help reel in my disobedient new breasts.

I reached out to take one of each, then hesitated. I looked down at my hands, they were filthy, caked in a layer of dust. I had after all just been crawling around in the dirt at the old antiquities library, searching for that damned button... which I'd never even found.

The showers are right there, I thought. If I was going to play the part, I might as well look it, and no one was going to be fooled by a filthy cheerleader... at least not that kind.

I listened, there were no objections from the cheap seats in the back of my brain, so I turned and headed in.

"Yo, new girl, what do you think you're doing?"

The voice was real, blasting into my brain on a loudspeaker. Oh god, I'd been spotted, I felt eyes on me like the unblinking gaze of a prison spotlight. I froze, then turned slowly, half expecting to face a row of green army men with their rifles trained on me.

I locked eyes with the girl who had spoken. She was a plastic impersonation, a princess, to perfect to possibly be real. Her hair, body, it was all flawless. She started to speak again, and I readied myself for the conditions of my execution.

"No shoes in the shower" she said and pointed a perfectly manicured nail at a sign beside me.

I turned and looked. The illustration was quite clear: no shoes in the shower, as she had said.

"Oh, sorry" I blurted out and kicked them off. Satisfied, she returned to the small court she was presiding over.

I felt my heart power down, my natural instinct to fight or flee retreat. I suppose it might be prudent to first change before I dove head long into the soothing springs of the showers. I spotted a stack of clean towels near the door, grabbed one, and ducked down onto an open spot on the long bench. From the corner of my eye, I checked - no one was watching.

I've never been comfortable being nude in front of other people, and now, with all the extra bits, it was doubly so.

With my back turned to the other girls, I started to undress.

Mingling with the dread was also curiosity. I hadn't yet looked under the hood, as it were, and didn't exactly know what to expect. Sure, the internet had provided me with an ampule supple of visual reference, put it was all a pale substitute for the real thing.

I crossed my arms, grabbed the bottom of my shirt and pulled if up and over my head. My new breasts sprung free, bounced and settled. It was surprisingly liberating.

I looked down. Yup, they really are there, aren't they, I thought as I stared at them. Was it odd that I was staring at my own breasts, I mean, they were mine after all.

On loan, I reminded myself.

Right, of course... on loan.

I grabbed my jean's frayed waistband.

Are you ready for this? I thought. There was no reply.

With one swift tug, I pulled them out.

My legs locked automatically, my knees clenching tightly like a fist. I felt the cool polished wood against my bare ass, the air around me, like a warm damp cloth.

I reached down and touched my inner thigh, it was smooth, ripe like a peach bathing in the warm sun. I gently pried them open and there it was... or wasn't.

There was no trace of it. It was gone, destroyed? What if the spell had atomized my junk, jettisoning the particles to the furthest corners of the known universe? The thought was terrifying. It took all of my mental strength to not scream. I shoved it back down into the murky depths below were all my other fears and self doubts slithered about, bidding their time.

Don't dwell on it, I thought. It's magic and magic can be undone... right? Yes, sure I thought... or at least a strong maybe - debate it later. Remember: uniform, spell, normal.

I wrapped the towel around my body, stood up and headed towards the shower. I walked into a wall of thick fog. Visibility dropped, but I was still able to make out the shapes of the other cheerleaders, their gentle curves muted by the steam. I could feel the weight of the towel as it slowly started to soak up the moisture. I pulled it free and threw it towards a bin overflowing with discarded towels.

I stepped underneath the shower and let the water drum against my naked skin. All of my anxiety melted away, the soothing sound of the water disrupting all of my negative frequencies.

I looked around, and found a small bar of soup resting on metal rack bolted to the wall. There were quite a few, including several bottles of shampoo and conditioner; another team perk.

I rolled the bar of soap in the palm of my hand and built up a thick lather. I spread it over my skin, exploring and mapping every delicious curve.

I brought my hands up and under my breasts. If I was dreaming, I was dreaming in 4k, I thought as I gently squeezed them. The sensation was electric. Good lord, are they always this sensitive?

I continued to shower. What had once felt like a mundane chore, was now a spiritual awakening. I threw my head back, opened my mouth and let the water pour in. I swallowed - pure ecstasy.

I let my mind drift into new uncharted territory. I thought of Jake. I pictured his body. He was fit, wasn't he? It wasn't surprising, he was after all a varsity all-star. He was constantly working out. He'd built a small make-shift gym in our basement. He spent hours down there and would often pass by my open door, drenched in sweat on his way to the shower. I'd never cared before, never turned to look, yet now, as I thought of him, I found myself combing through every memory I had of him, searching for the best. Had I ever seen him without a shirt? How toned were his arms? Did he have washboard abs? What color were his eyes?

So many questions.

I thought again about the magical book and the odd illustration he had been fascinated by. What had she been wearing? a tiny white bikini? I remembered she was on her knees, bound in golden shackles, head tilted back, her hair flowing down her back. It wasn't spelled out, but I could tell she was a slave.

"A what?" my illusion of Jake asked.

"A slave." I replied. "Your slave."

He smiled, his lips curling up into a devilish grin.

"My slave? I've never had my own slave."

I stepped towards him, my hips rocking back and forth, raised my hand and touched his stomach, following the lines of his chiseled abs.

"And I am yours to command... Master." I whispered.

"Master!" he laughed. "Master. I like the sound of that. And what does one do with their own personal slave, simple chores, dishes, laundry, that sorta' thing?" he asked.

"Anything you command. I exist only to serve."

"Anything?" he asked.

I slowly dropped down to my knees, tilted my head back, and looked up at him. I found the clasp of his belt and started to toy with it, tracing it with my finger, then further down. I could feel his throbbing erection through his thick denim jeans, begging to be freed.

"Anything." I replied and wet my lips.

My concentration suddenly broke, my fantasy shattered - intentionally? What was even the root of these strange thoughts?

Uniform... something... something

I washed the shampoo out of my hair, grabbed a clean towel from a stack near the door, wrapped it around my body, and returned to the change room. From the small nooks, I grabbed a complete cheerleader uniform. Might as well get a fresh pair of sneakers, I thought and grabbed a pair. I brought the entire hull to the bench and set it down beside me.

My old clothing lay in a mound near my feet. It looked like a miniature garbage dump. The jeans were covered in patches of dirt and stains that had cemented themselves into the thick denim. My shirt was a sickly pale color, the playful design faded away beyond recognition. I can't believe I used to wear that, I thought.

I picked up the panties, having concluded that they were in fact, not shorts. The cut was to high, exposing all of the leg. The fabric was artificially wet and shimmered like a melted plastic sea.

I brought them down, raised my foot, then hesitated. I envisioned an invisible a line, a threshold, that if crossed, meant I was headed into unfamiliar territory, why? They're just a pair of panties. They had no magical properties, right? I couldn't explain it, yet, as I stared at them, I felt like more of myself was fading away.

I tried to picture myself, my true self. It was blurry, transparent, my features slowly oozing into unrecognizable blobs. Was I accelerating it? What if my old clothing was the only things holding back the floodgates. If I threw them open, I might allow this strange spell to wash away all memory of who I was.

Nonsense, I thought. They're just clothes. Dabbling in a little crossdressing isn't going to change who you I am.

Sure, keep telling yourself that, a voice from the back seat in my brain taunted.

I looked again at the pile of sweaty old clothes. The choice was clear.

I hooked my feet threw the panties, and slowly drew them up and over my smooth skin. They fell into place, tightly hugging every curve. I could feel the elastic hem, like a live wire, pinching. Had I grabbed the wrong size? half of my bare ass was still exposed, or was that part of the design? Just go with it, I thought. It wasn't like I was planning on cart-wheeling my way back home.

I picked up the sports bra. It was a tangled mess of straps and hooks. I flipped it over, found the right alignment, and brought it up and over my head. The material was elastic, fighting against me as I pulled it over my shoulders. It snapped into place, cupping my new breasts. It was surprisingly comfortable, designed to support, not cage.

I picked up the skirt. The fabric was heavy, coarse, like worn sandpaper. It was pleated, the individual bands fanning out from the waist line. I slipped it on. It was short, surprisingly short. I looked down, my legs were exposed, the skirt's hem creeping just far enough to conceal my panties. How did the other cheerleaders pull this off so casually?

I crossed my legs, consciously? I wasn't sure, but I left a little mental bookmark to remind myself that steep inclines were not my friend.

The last piece of the puzzle was the shirt. I picked it up. It looked like it could fit a doll. The colors popped, the material shimmered like fish scale. I brought it up and over my head. It wasn't as tight as the sports bra, but I still had to wrestle with it, and tried to pull it all the way down to my waist. It refused, stopping short, leaving my midriff exposed.

I looked down. Clever, I thought. I could see the hidden mechanisms of the sports bra working their magic. They were pushing my new breasts up and into the plunging neckline.

Thankfully, there were no surprises when I put on the new shoes.

I looked over at the pile of old clothes. Disgusting, I thought. I can't just leave them there, I wouldn't want any one to accidentally step in them. I took my towel and used it as a claw, and grabbed everything in one quick scope. I then walked, my arms stretched out wide, and tossed them into the nearest trash can. Good riddance, I thought.

As I turned, I locked eyes with another cheerleader. She was tall, her long wet honey colored hair dangling in front of her eyes. She hide behind it, curiously peeking out threw the thin strands. Her uniform was a perfect fit. If only I could pull it off like that, I thought as I gawked at her. I was fixated, mesmerized, unable look away, nor did she. Was she mocking me?

It's you, you idiot, I thought as I realized I was looking at a full-length mirror.

Slightly embarrassed, I picked up my phone. I went to pocket it, then remembered, right... no pockets. I looked down at it, the battery icon was blinking red. I checked the time. Had an entire hour really passed?

I took one last look in the mirror, smiled for my captive audience and turned to go.

"Yo, new girl"

I froze. It was the plastic princess again, her voice like a five alarm siren. I turned to face her.

"Don't forget to sign up. Spaces are limited." she said and pointed.

I followed her line of sight to a piece of plain white paper taped to the wall near the entrance. A ball-point pen tied to a string hung below it.

Sign up, sign up for what? Better to comply I thought. Arguing might lead to several uncomfortable questions.

"Right... of course, Thanks." I said and bee-lined it to the sign-up sheet. I could feel her eyes, like two hot coals burning into the back of my head.

I picked up the pen. The first three sections were full, but there was still some room at three in the afternoon. It was for a cheerleading practice, not that I planned to attend. If everything went according to plan, it wouldn't matter, I wouldn't exist, at least not in this body... unless.