Chapter 2

Charlie awoke around noon. The oscillating fan was running, making the November chill worse, even though its breeze wasn't aimed directly at them. Amelie was still zonked out, breathing softly. He slipped out of bed and got some different clothes on. Looking at her lying on the bed, her features in repose, she was quite beautiful. All of the flaws had long ago been magically erased from her face, so she was like a pretty doll.

A pretty doll is just about right, considering what I've done to her. he thought guiltily.

It's no worse than what she tried to do to me. responded another part of his mind. She told me she would die if I told her to, when she was under the spell. Who knows what she would have done to me if the spell hadn't bounced?

Still ... is it right to keep her like this?

She looks happy enough. I could have told her to be my slave without making her so happy about it, and just forbidden her from acting against me.

Charlie continued to argue with himself until Amelie awoke, and smiled an utterly blissful smile that made him forget what he'd been thinking about. She crawled out of bed and knelt at his feet, eager for a command to obey. Her happiness was infectious, and soon he forgot why he'd been so upset as her talented mouth diverted too much blood away from his brain for such worries to distract him.

"Holy shit, dude!" Steve said from the top bunk. "She's one talented chick!"

"You have no idea." Charlie said as Amelie reverently put his dick back in his underwear.

"What the hell?" Steve asked. "How'd your pecker get that big?"

"Amelie's doing." Charlie replied as he zipped up. "She's a sorceress."

"So, how'd you get a sorceress to jack your beanstalk?"

"My tattoo bounced an evil mind-control spell back at her, after she tried to cast it on me."

"Wow, payback's a bitch." Steve muttered.

"Amelie, I want you to go put on some clean clothes." Charlie said.

"Yes, Master." she responded. She muttered a spell under her breath, and disappeared.

"Holy shit, dude." Steve said, climbing down out of the bed.

Amelie appeared in the parlor of her manor house in Cordova, Spain. The only other person in evidence was one of the maids. She'd never bothered to remember the girl's name, and the maid was certainly in no condition to remind her. Amelie had bound her seventy years ago, freezing her age at sixteen years so she could serve her Mistress through the centuries. The maid was like an automoton, unaware of anything that didn't affect her duties, her expression forever that of someone walking in their sleep.

"Slave, come help me dress." Amelie told the maid as she walked to the stairs. The maid continued to dust. The sorceress gawked. Never had she been ignored by her own mind slaves! Muttering a few minor spells under her breath, she examined her bindings. There was nothing wrong with the spell, or the maid's hearing. The problem, in a manner of speaking, was Amelie.

The maid--in fact, everyone on Amelie's household staff--was bound with a spell that only allowed them to be aware of, and obey, the commands of Amelie O'Fae. When he'd bound her, Charlie had changed her true name, the name by which magic knew her, to Amelie, Slave of Charlie. She was briefly irritated at her old self for not using a spell that could take such things into account. Then she realized that even if Amelie O'Fae hadn't been an arrogant, spiteful cunt, she could not have anticipated that anyone would change who she was. O'Fae was gone now, and she knew the slaves wouldn't survive long without someone to command them.

Amelie put her hands on the maid's head and began the enchantments to transfer ownership. The girl's empty eyes glowed softly for a moment, then her lips moved just enough for Amelie to perceive them as she softly asked the question, "How may this slave be of service to you, Mistress?"

That's better. she thought. Another maid moved around upstairs and started cleaning the windows. Amelie thought of the size of her staff, and groaned. If she had to change ALL of their spells...

No, she didn't. Grinning at her own inventiveness, she cast a spell on the lips of the ensorcelled maid, so that the same spell could be cast on anyone she kissed. "Now, slave, I want you to kiss every one of the house staff, and when you're done gather them all in the parlor."

"Yes, Mistress." the maid said, and shuffled off to obey. Amelie decided she could dress herself today. She padded naked up to her room and opened her closet. Outfit after outfit failed her inspection as too domineering for her new role. Disgusted, she piled it all in the middle of the floor and marched to the quarters of one of her fetish-slaves. Amelie had been, and still was, functionally bisexual, keeping both male and female slaves under her thrall. She walked into the quarters of one of the female slaves, who stared, unaware, up at the ceiling in the bed, awaiting commands. Amelie appropriated a Catholic schoolgirl uniform from the girl's closet. It was tight on her, especially around the chest, but Amelie felt that Master would like that.

She teleported back to the dorm, startling Steve. "Is this to your liking, Master?" she asked. Charlie smiled, Steve just gawked.

"Very nice." he said, drawing her close and running his fingers through her red hair, down her body, visiting all his favorite places on the way, and she shivered in pleasure as he touched one of hers. Steve evidently decided that three was a crowd, tossing off a "have fun, guys" over his shoulder before closing the door behind him.

"Should we tell him I'm not a guy?" Amelie whispered. Master laughed, a sound that was better than music to her ears. "What shall we do now, Master?" she asked.

"I'm hungry, let's go to the Seven-Eleven and get something to eat." he said. They walked arm in arm to the convenience store. Amelie covertly retrieved her ATM card from the pocket dimension in which she kept it (which saved her from the embarrassment of leaving it in another outfit) and withdrew two hundred dollars for her Master's use. There was a fat man munching Cheetos in one corner. Just as her Master was about to check out, the fat man cut in front of him.

"How dare you!" Amelie shouted as the man ran his half-eaten bag of chips in front of the scanner, and then resumed munching.

"Ya snooze, ya lose." he said as he slapped a twenty on the counter. Amelie's face darkened and her lips moved in an arcane chant, her hands moving fluidly as she traced ancient symbols in the air. A sphere of darkness appeared where the bag of Cheetos was, swallowing it whole and almost taking his hand with it. "Whoa! What the hell?" he exclaimed, almost falling over a newspaper display. "You banished my Cheetos!!" Master laughed even harder.

"Take a hike, lard-ass, or next time it won't be your bag of snacks that I send to the Plane of Hate." she snarled. It was obvious the man had never moved so fast in his life. He ran through the automatic door so fast his love handles touched the glass as he passed. Amelie looked at her Master, who was still laughing.

"'You banished my Cheetos!!' That was great!" he said through his laughter. The clerk was just staring at her as though she might turn her magic against him next. She gave him her most disarming smile and put her arms around her Master. The clerk put the fat man's change in the charity jar and rang up Master's purchases, as timid as a rabbit from head to toe. Master whispered a suggestion into her ear. She walked around the counter, unbuttoning her blouse as she went.

"Uh, what are ... uh..." the clerk stammered, his eyes locking onto her now-exposed chest like guided missiles. Her arms massaged his shoulders.

"You're so tense." she said. "Poor thing, I didn't mean to scare you. Let me help you." She slid to her knees, her nails lightly scratching his shirt, and undid the clerk's belt.

"Um, uh..."

"Shh." she said as she freed his six-inch erection. It was so big around that she couldn't touch her middle finger to her thumb. She licked up and down the shaft, lubricating him with her saliva, before taking the head in her mouth and taking him in a little at a time, with excruciating slowness, her tongue moving around as he grabbed the counter for support, her nails scratching under his balls ever so gently. Her cheeks puckered as she pulled back slowly. She knew the tricks to make everything disappear from a man's mind except what she was doing, and she used them all on her helpless prisoner. She drew out the experience for nearly half an hour before she let him cum, and cum he did, like a fire hose. His eyes squeezed shut so tightly that tears leaked from the lids. She swallowed like a child at her mother's tit, until it was all gone, and her victim sank limply to the floor. She rose just enough that her breasts were at a level with his eyes. His cock twitched, but didn't revive. She pouted sexily and enjoyed his reaction as she slowly buttoned up her shirt, just enough so that she wouldn't get arrested if a cop happened to walk through the door just now. She patted him on the head and winked at her Master before she went to the bathroom to wash out her mouth and empty her bladder. When she walked out, she found that the clerk was still recovering. He winced as he put his dick back in his shorts, and closed up his pants as if he were pulling out a splinter.

"Holy fucking shit, dude..." he said as he managed to make his wobbly legs remember how to move. "How'd you hook up with a goddess like that?"

"I've asked myself the same question." Master said. "It's the kind of thing that you convince yourself can only happen in one of those naughty stories on the Internet, but I'm not going to complain." He smiled at Amelie, and she melted inside, folding herself happily into his arms. The doors opened, and a girl walked in, somewhere between the ages of seventeen and nineteen. Her strawberry-blonde hair had red highlights, and hazel eyes with amber flecks shot through them took in the store and its inhabitants with an innocent-but-curious expression before she circled around to the back and grabbed a foot-long sub and two bottles of Dr. Pepper from the fridge.

"She's cute." Amelie whispered.

"Go give her a kiss then." Master replied. He watched with lust in his eyes and a bulge in his pants as Amelie walked up to the young girl and kissed her like there was no tomorrow. The girl struggled briefly, but Amelie's skillful caresses overcame her better judgment, letting the animal side revel in pleasure. Both females' nipples were visible through their shirts when Amelie broke off, leaving the girl to catch her breath.

"I ... I shouldn't..." she began, but Amelie silenced her with a finger on her tender lips, and whispered a low-level enchantment. The pupils of the girl's eyes briefly glowed a soft, yellowish color, and she was putty in Amelie's hands.

"Come." she said, leading the girl to the check-out.

Chelsea Smith put the last sheet of Bounce in the dryer and closed it before pushing in her quarters as her roommate did the same on another machine. Together they occupied about four dryers. Her roommate, through coincidence or some sick sense of humor on the part of the housing authority at the college, was named Chelsea Smithe. Everyone referred to them as the Chelsea Twins, although they had little in common. Smith was studying to be an interpreter, learning both Japanese and Chinese, Smithe was an art major whose hobby was redoing the great works of the "Old Masters" in the style of anime and manga--interesting to Smith if only because of its cultural links to Japan. Smith was a strawberry blonde whose hazel eyes sought out wonder wherever they could find it. Smithe was a dark-haired "ward of the state" who had grown up in a children's home and seen the dark side of "The System" once too often.

"Where ya goin'?" asked the darker-haired Chelsea.

"I'm hungry." said the lighter-haired girl. "I'm gonna go get a sub from the Seven-Eleven next door. Wanna split it?"

"Yeah, sure, 'slong as it's not one of those grody meatball ones."

"I only get hot subs from Subway, you know that. Microwaves make the whole thing soggy." She straightened her skirt in the reflection from one of the stainless steel machines nearby. She was nineteen, but was cursed with a baby face, petite frame and small bust that reduced her apparent age considerably. She tried to wear clothes and make-up that made her look older, but ended up looking like a kid playing dress-up.

As she walked into the convenience store, she saw a couple embracing, and that the clerk looked like he'd just run a marathon. The female of the couple looked like she'd lost a bet and was wearing her little sister's clothes as punishment. The tight-fitting blouse was so tight that it pushed her impressive chest up into a porn-star cleavage. She noticed the woman looking and continued further into the store, anxious to get her stuff and leave. She grabbed a roast-beef sub and two Dr. Peppers from the refrigerated section, turned--and ran right into the woman.

She pulled Chelsea into an embrace and started to kiss her. Fear, surprise and her parents' dire warnings about homosexuals warred with another feeling, a feeling that was being inspired within her by the other woman's expert caresses of her body. She was finding hot-buttons that even Chelsea didn't know about. She moaned involuntarily as her nipples stiffened to press into the fabric of her shirt.

"I ... I shouldn't..." she began once her mouth was freed, but the strange woman silenced her with a finger on her tender lips, and whispered soft words that wove themselves around her mind, though she didn't understand them. Softly, all the thoughts telling her to resist lapsed into silence, leaving behind the voices that wanted more of that good feeling the woman had coaxed from within her.

"Come." the woman said. It seemed to be the best idea Chelsea had heard all day. She followed the woman puppyishly. Her purchases were taken and placed on the counter, as the woman drew her into another embrace.

"What did you do to her?" asked the male he'd seen her with when she'd walked in. It was a good question, and Chelsea wondered why she hadn't thought of it.

"Just a little spell, turns off the 'no' part of her mind and makes everything she hears seem like the best idea she's ever had or an irrefutable truth." the woman said. She turned back to Chelsea. "Take off your shirt, baby." she said encouragingly.

Why didn't I think of that? her bespelled mind wondered as she obeyed. The money in her hand dropped unheeded to the floor. The woman started to play with her tits. There were those words she didn't understand again, and Chelsea's boobs started to swell. Not only did they swell, but they became more sensitive. Her boobs grew a good three cup sizes at least, and by the time they stopped, her nipples felt like she had extra clits attached to her chest. She came hard as the woman's stimulation of those sensitive globes, and particularly the pleasure nubs at the front, continued unrelenting. Then, she was passed to the male, who took her left nipple in his mouth and stimulated the other one with his hand, then switched, back and forth, back and forth, until she came again. Her knees refused to support her anymore, and she fell backward into the woman's arms, her new mammaries bobbling with their inertia.

"Do you like your new titties, baby?" the woman asked. Chelsea nodded absently. "What's your name?"

"Chelsea Smith."

"Is anyone expecting you, Chelsea?" the male asked.

"My roommate." Chelsea replied. "She's at the laundry-mat. I'm bringing lunch." She nodded at the bagged items on the counter.

"What's your roommate's name?"

"Chelsea Smithe." Chelsea replied. The male chuckled.

"What school do you go to?"

"Quincy Academy, across town." she responded.

"I thought so." he said. "Quincy's admins are a little anal, or so my brother told me anyway. Arrange everyone in alphabetical order."

"Sit down, baby." the woman said. Chelsea complied. The woman began to speak again, this time a long and complex chant.

"I'm Charlie, and that's Amelie." the male said. Amelie was intent on a pillar of ... something ... that appeared in the aisle. The pillar faded away, leaving some kind of seamless mannequin behind. Amelie then started a new chant, and the mannequin started to change. Chelsea watched in fascination as the object began to look like her--but with her old, smaller chest. The resemblance was remarkable--except that it had no genitalia. No nipples, no vagina, no anal opening. It was like a life-size Barbie doll.

"Give it your clothes." Amelie instructed, and Chelsea obeyed, first handing up her shirt, then taking off her shoes, socks, pants and panties. Amelie dressed the figure in Chelsea's clothes. Chelsea was naked, but it didn't bother her. The clerk was staring, but it didn't bother her. The floor was cold, but it didn't bother her. It didn't even bother her that she normally would be bothered by these things, that on some level, she knew she was under Amelie's magical spell. "Stand up, baby." Amelie told her, and she complied. These people were so full of good ideas. "Okay, now here's the tricky part. I'm going to whisper three things into your ear. I want you to touch the doll's forehead and say to it what I say to you, verbatim. Understand?"

"Yes." she replied.

"'Here you go.'" Amelie whispered. Chelsea touched the doll's forehead and repeated the phrase. The doll repeated it back. "'I gotta run.'" Amelie prompted. The process was repeated. "'Something's come up, but I'll be back later.'" Her task completed, Chelsea stood, waiting. "What does your roommate look like?"

"Dark hair, taller than me, bigger boobs ... well, bigger than I used to have."

"Okay. Doll, when I give you the food, I want you to take it out the door, to your left, and into the laundromat. There, you will break the sandwich in half, give half of it and one of the drinks to the dark-haired girl who is taller than you and has larger breasts, then depart with the rest and seek me. Nod if you understand." The doll nodded. "Go." It left.

"What was that?" Charlie asked.

"A magical construct." Amelie explained. "It can be reshaped to look like anyone, and programmed with three verbatim speeches which it will mimic like a tape recorder, including sneezes if you do it at the wrong time. Think of it as sort of a quick-clone--far from perfect, but they can be useful. I keep a few of them in pocket-dimensions for emergencies." Chelsea noticed that Amelie seemed to be hoping that the explanation pleased Charlie.

Chelsea Smithe saw her roommate reenter the laundromat, bag in hand. Or someone who looks like her. she thought as the other Chelsea scanned the laundromat with her eyes. She can't have forgotten where I am. She's not THAT dense. Finally she approached, broke the sub in half.

"Here you go." Smith said.

"What kept you?" Smithe asked.

"Something's come up, but I'll be back later." She left with no further explanation.

"Hey, what about your clothes?" Smithe called after her.

"I gotta run." the girl said. Smithe followed her as she returned to the Seven-Eleven. There was a flash of light from inside. Worried, she ran into the store, finding only the clerk and a floorload of dropped change, all in quarters. She checked the bathrooms, but she wasn't there either.