Sweat running down her neck, with no light but the little thrown by the contained flame in the petite metal cauldron and four candles that rested on the table, Isabella tossed the tuft of her boyfriend's hair into the cauldron. The spell card rested behind it.
"Take this offering. Give me sight, give me vision. Let me see him at his most private. Truth, preferable to ignorance. Let me see it all."
The flame shot up and turned purple.
Isabella fainted and collapsed.
The flame continued to burn.
Isabella rolled over in bed, waking from sleep. Before opening her eyes, she noticed acute pain in her lower back and shoulders. Something felt different about her chest, too—a different distribution of weight. She opened her eyes and immediately realized she was in a different room than her own.
I don't have an alarm clock.
The bedding was unfamiliar.
I've never been in this room before. Where am I?
Her hands, they were completely different too, more wrinkles. She looked down at her chest.
Whoa, gravity's really doing its job, what happened?
Isabella glanced down. A fading scar ran up her abdomen.
How'd I get that?
She spread her legs. Curly black hair covered her mons pubis.
I swear I shaved like two days ago, what the heck?
Isabella nearly fell down when she got out of bed, her feet and legs completely foreign. A mirror hung on the closet door. She caught a glance of herself and gasped, throwing her hands up over her face.
Holy shit, did it really work?
But this is
not
what I wanted, not at all. Oh no.
She started to pace the room in a panic.
Okay, okay, it's Sunday. At least I won't get Oliver's mom fired from her job.
Also, wow, I knew she was beautiful, but she's downright
sexy
in her birthday suit.
Isabella took a deep breath and began to calm down.
This can work, this can totally work. Maybe this is even better than his best friend.
She opened the closet door and riffled through Oliver's mother's wardrobe. After trying on a few different outfits—a mini-fashion show for one, she settled on something simple yet effective, a sundress cut low in the back and front, no bra, no panties.
With each step, Isabella got more comfortable in her new body.
Let's see, let's see, what next?
She opened the top bedside drawer to see what was inside. Three different vibrators lovingly snuggled each other.
No, not now. Stay focused.
Oliver lived in a single-story ranch in a quaint neighborhood outside of Hartford with his mother, a professor at the university. Not long out of college and searching for a job, he moved back in with his mom. He told Isabella it was to save money, but she knew that his mother was having a tough time since the divorce.
She could have any guy she wanted, I don't get why she doesn't just go out and take her pick of the litter. Older guys, younger guys, seriously, they'd lose their shit.
Oliver's bedroom was on the other side of the house. Aside from his mother's bedroom, Isabella knew the layout of the home well. In the kitchen, she got out all of the ingredients for pancakes. She whipped the batter and started heating up the griddle. Oliver's mom's Sunday morning pancakes were a weekly staple—their version of church. No other sounds stirred in the house except the slight sizzle of the cooking pancakes.
Isabella knocked on Oliver's door, holding a plate of pancakes. "Oliver... Hunny... You up? I made pancakes." She twisted the door open. Oliver was caught in the act, stroking his cock while he stared at his phone. He jumped up, dropped his phone, and covered himself with his blanket.
"Mom!" His face turned dark crimson. "W-w-what are you doing?!"
"I made you breakfast, sweetie. But it looks like you're
busy
, so I'll just set them here for you when you're ready."
Oliver was speechless. He looked anywhere else but in the direction of his mother. Isabella winked at Oliver and left his room, closing the door behind her.
That filthy scum. I knew it, I knew it. First thing in the morning too! I told him to be honest, and he lied.
Fuming, she sat on the chair in the living room and riffled through one of Oliver's mother's magazines.
Oliver came out of his bedroom not long after, dressed and carrying the plate of pancakes, completely pale. He sat down at the kitchen table and ate his pancakes in silence. Isabella got up and poured him a glass of orange juice. She sat across from him at the table.
Oliver looked up and saw how revealing the dress was, his mom's freckled upper breasts leading his eyes down the line between them. He immediately looked away.
"How's breakfast, sweetie?"
"Delicious," he said. He took a sip of orange juice. Birds chirped in the yard. The sun shone through the windows, a perfect summer day. "But they taste a bit different than usual. Did you change the recipe?"
"I'm trying something new," Isabella said.
He ate his pancakes and avoided looking anywhere remotely near his mother.
"How's everything with Isabella?"
"Oh, really great. We're going out to dinner on Tuesday night. I'm looking forward to it."
Well, he passed that test.
"She's such a nice girl, I'm glad you found someone you get along with so well."
Mid-bite, he grunted in agreement. "About what you were doing in your bedroom." He stopped chewing and almost spit out the pancake. His stomach sank. "You're a man, and that's natural. But do you think Isabella wants you watching videos of other naked women? That doesn't seem very gentlemanly of you."
"M-mom..." He lost his appetite. "I don't think there's anything wrong with it, it's harmless.
"Does she not do
enough
for you?"
"No, no, it's not that. Not that at all."
"Then what is it?"
"I really do
not
want to be having this conversation with you, Mom."
"Why not? I told you about the birds and the bees. I taught you about safe sex. Lord knows school didn't."
Please let this be accurate.
"Look, okay," Oliver was starting to get mad. "I like the fantasies. Is that so wrong?"
"What kind of fantasies?"
"No. Absolutely not. We're not talking about that."
"Oh, I'm just kidding, darling."
I'll give you a fantasy so good you won't need to look at that filth again.
Isabella stood up from the table and walked over to Oliver. She draped her arms around his shoulders from behind. "I'm just teasing you, relax." She began to rub his back.
"You're acting real strange today. Is everything okay?"
"Everything's just
great
."
Isabella reached around and slid her hand into Oliver's pants.
He's already hard. No surprise there with his goddamn fantasies.
"W-w-what are you
doing
?!" Oliver recoiled.
"You said you like fantasies... What if they were reality?" She kissed him on the neck.
"This is just wrong, Mom. Wrong in all ways. Gross."
"If it's wrong, then why's your cock so hard, Oliver James?" She reached back down in his pants and squeezed his penis. "See, your little buddy has no problem with it."
"That's beside the point. I don't even think this is l-l-legal." Isabella pumped his cock.
"I won't tell the police if you don't," she said, laughing.
Come on, come on, I know you love this. What son doesn't have an Oedipus complex?
Oliver couldn't speak, his throat was dry.
Isabella tightened her grip and stroked faster. "Mom... Mom! You gotta stop, or I'm going to come."
"I want you to come, come all over my face, you dirty boy."
Isabella pulled his chair back, got on the floor, unbuttoned his pants, and pulled his cock out from his boxers. "Wow. Like father, like son," she said, even though she had no idea if it was true.
Oliver held onto the bottom of the chair while Isabella kept jerking him off.
"Are you sure you want me to come? It'll make a big mess."
"That's what I want. Dirty boys make big messes for their mothers to clean up." With the stroke that followed, semen flew out of Oliver's cock onto his mother's face. The pancakes were cold; the jizz was warm. The birds kept chirping.
He likes his pornstars, does he? He's going to
love
this.
His semen ran down her face. She ran her tongue around her lips, catching some of it. Isabella kissed Oliver, shoving her come-covered tongue into his mouth.
"That was
so
sexy," she said.
Oh god, am I going to ruin his relationship with his mother? I may have taken this all too far, but it was such fun.
Oliver didn't say anything. He pulled up his pants. Isabella wiped off her face with the kitchen towel.
"So... what do you want to do today? Want to spend the day with me? What if we went to the movies?"
Oliver could barely think. "Sure..."
"You pick the movie, hunny."
They shared popcorn at the matinée. Oliver was grateful he didn't have to talk to his mom during the movie.
Did he know there was going to be so much sex in this movie? He's a certifiable pervert!
They had a late lunch after the movie. Isabella tried to make small talk during the meal, but Oliver was glued to his phone. She ran her foot along his leg under the table.
"What's Isabella up to today?"
"She's not texting me back, I'm not sure what's up. I haven't heard from her since last night."
"Strange... Maybe she's not feeling well?"
"I wonder if I should go check on her."
"And what, leave your poor mother home alone all evening?"
"We've spent the entire day together, Mom."
"Come on, just a full day with your sweet mother. Didn't you say you're going on a date with Isabella this week anyway?"
Oliver looked at his mother. She was wearing the same revealing dress as earlier. Isabella noticed he was getting more and more comfortable looking at her.
