Copyright© 2008 by RH Music
Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Alex must get breasts to please his bisexual boyfriend, and so he goes to visit a local witch. Unfortunately, the potion does not work out the way he expected. Now, how is he going to face his colleagues at work? And what is the witch's secret agenda?
"So, you want real breasts of your own," from her smile, you could tell she was amused.
"Yeah ... Uh, Yes. Please. And I was told that you could do that?" Alex asked with apprehension. He had never seen a witch before. Of course, at 19 years old, he hadn't seen much of anything so far.
Actually, Mrs. Alice Abbott didn't look like much of a witch. Alice was approaching 90 years old, and her face showed several lifetimes of pain, hardship, happiness, and triumph. She smiled through her dentures and offered Alex a second cup of tea. Indeed, Alex thought she looked more like his great Aunt Betty than a witch.
The house looked pretty normal too, mostly just an old-lady's house with knitting, cross stitch, quilts, and lace curtains. It had a vaguely moth-ball smell. The only unusual part of the house was that it had mirrors everywhere, and they were all placed high and pointed downwards. Bizarre.
"Are you really a witch?" Alex asked, suddenly worried that there had been some horrible mix-up. "I mean, you don't look like ... I mean, I thought witches always looked young, or something..."
"Oh, that's just all made up by Hollywood," Alice smiled and smoothed out her dress. "That whole staying young thing ... it gets old after a while."
"But can you really do it? I mean, will I have real breasts? I heard rumors, but I thought..."
"I can do it, but the spell I have in mind is permanent. Is that OK? If you decide you don't like them, they can only be removed through surgery."
"That's fine ... wow."
"OK, now what kind of breasts do you want?"
"Oh..." Alex hadn't thought that far ahead. "I dunno ... I'm doing this for my friend Chris..."
"Ohhh! So, you have a boy friend, is that it?" Alice's smile was mischievous. "Were these breasts his idea?"
"Ummm, yeah. He's bisexual, see, and he ... well, he said I was perfect except I didn't have breasts," Alex frowned remembering the horrific argument they had had. Chris had stormed out of the apartment, leaving Alex crying on the floor of the kitchen.
Alex had never met anyone so gorgeous! If only he wasn't so Bi. But Alex knew, deep down, that it was exactly Chris' heterosexual tendencies that made him so attractive.
"So, should I give you the kind of breasts that Chris would want for you?" Alice gently suggested.
Alex's expression brightened considerably. "Yes! That's perfect. Give me whatever breasts that Chris wants. That would be perfect."
"Very good," Alice got up, carefully, and grabbed a cane. "This will take about a half an hour." She walked across the room, and then slowly clomped down the stairs to the basement, closing the door behind her.
Alex waited, sipping his tea. After a while he got up and paced around the room. That seemed to help.
Finally, Alex heard the clomp-clomp-clomp of Alice ascending the stairs. The door opened and she shuffled out holding an ordinary plastic pill bottle.
"Ignore the label. I'm just re-using the bottle. Just swallow this before you go to bed, and you will wake up with perfect breasts. Now, do you have the check?"
Alex held out the check, $1,000 dollars. Much less than what would be required for breast implants, but still it exhausted his savings including the high-school graduation check from Mom and Dad.
"Very good. Enjoy your breasts."
Mrs. Alice Abbott, wife of the late Jerome Abbott, was the mother of 4 lovely children (all grown up and on their own) and grandmother to 7. She also happened to be the sole remaining high priestess of the 9th order of the Ancient Gaia Sisterhood, an order created from the power of the earth itself.
Alice watched from the front door as Alex got into his dented, rusty VW Golf and drove away. "He's the one," she thought. "He is definitely the one."
At times like this, Alice felt like the puppet master, pulling strings and watching her marionettes dance their intricate dances. And with centuries of practice, her touch had become so deft that the puppets didn't even feel the strings anymore.
Alice closed the door and then went to the bathroom - for the third time that day. "What I wouldn't give for bladder control," she muttered.
Alex got home and emptied the contents of the bottle into his hand. Alice had sold him a small jet black pill which felt oddly heavy and looked like concentrated poison.
"My god," he said, looking at it. "What have I done?"
But it was too late to back out now. Alex knew the witch would never return the money, and besides, it was the only thing that might reclaim the affections of his lover.
Chris. Alex thought for a second about his mercurial friend. God, he was fantastic. He had this huge penis, and this rugged kind of boyish look, a good-looking cross between Matt Damon and George Clooney. Alex was in love, and had been since they had first kissed at The Hippo night club. Chris had been cute then, wanting to experiment, open to anything, curious and horny. He had spent the night, was still with him in the morning, and Alex was sure that he had found his soul mate. They spent every night that week together.
But now, two months later, things were spinning wrong and Alex was at his wit's end. Unexplained absences, missed dinners, excuses. Alex knew something was up, and finally, one evening over Chinese takeout, Alex could no longer control his anxiety.
"I just want to know," he stammered, "what you were doing last night. I called until 4 in the morning and you were never home..."
"You what?! You were checking up on me?"
"Yes! I was worried! So sue me for worrying about you!"
"I was out with friends."
"Please, the least you can do is be honest with me. Is there some other man?"
"I don't need to answer to you!" Chris jumped up and threw his plate of Kung Pao chicken against the wall. The plastic plate clattered to the floor. "Fuck you! God I hate your clinging and whining! You want to know what I was doing?" Chris sneered, "I was with an old girl friend."
Alex felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. "What? A girl? What do you need her for?"
"Breasts, that's what. Listen, I told you I was bisexual. If you can't handle that, well then, fuck you."
"You are leaving me for a pair of tits? But ... But ... You can't, you're gay! There's no way that any man could have enjoyed sex like we did and still be straight. There's no such thing as bisexual."
"That's just like all you homos. It always has to be all one way or the other. It's always us against them. Christ, you're more intolerant than the fucking skin heads."
And with that, he picked up his knapsack and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
It was now a week later, and Chris had refused to return any of Alex's calls. Once, when Chris actually answered the phone in person, he had hung up immediately as soon as Alex spoke his first words of apology.
Finally, after much pleading via E-mail and answering machine, Chris had agreed to one last face to face meeting.
Alex was desperate to have Chris all to himself. And he knew that the only way to do that would be to give him what he wanted.