The old planks of the floor creaked under soft footsteps as the girl made her way through the halls of the mansion. The place was poorly lit by the fiery evening sun, which cast long shafts of light through broken and intact windows alike. A few of the tattered drapes fluttered in a light breeze as dust motes lazily stirred in the air.
The girl was dressed in a long, Gothic skirt that ended at her ankles. She wore comfortable black sneakers around her feet and her top was a strapped faux-corset, something that looked the part without pulling too tight. What was the point? she'd figured. She was tiny, barely a hair over five feet in height, with no curves to speak of and a slender build. A transparent gray top covered her shoulders and arms, and fishnet sleeves encased her forearms.
She tucked her long, straight blonde hair behind her ear as she approached the stairs down to the basement. Her heart was beating quickly, pounding in her chest, but she knew she needed to go on.
The steps creaked as she made her way down the stairs into the deep blackness. Only her phone flashlight lit the way, casting a surreal scene where shadows jumped every which way. The blonde girl reached into her purse, pulling out candles, chalk, and weirdly enough, an old set of car keys.
She set to work lighting the candles, drawing up a circle adorned with runes and elegant Celtic designs, and finally, to complete the procedure, she placed the car keys in the middle.
She waited. It didn't take long.
Soon, the warm, flickering light of the candles was overtaken by a more ethereal, unearthly blue light that began to radiate from the circle. The sound of footsteps reached her ears, and the blonde goth looked around, hesitant, expectantly.
A footprint appeared in the dusty stone floor of the basement, followed by another. Slowly, they moved towards the circle, but once they reached it, they did not step inside. Instead, they slowly began to pace around it, like a wary animal that's spotted a trap.
The blonde goth spoke up, her little voice shy, quavering.
"I-it's not a binding circle," she said, as if to reassure whatever was there. "It's not a trap. O-okay?"
A puff of chalk dust detached itself from the ground, raised itself nearly six feet in the air, and then began to flake away into the air. Around it appeared two ghostly blue fingers, rubbing the chalk dust between them. The rest of a slender, strong feminine hand appeared, then arms clad in a denim jacket. A strong female chest appeared, then jeans and sneakers. All the while the features of a powerfully-built girl in her late teens - or perhaps early twenties? - appeared, looking skeptically down at the blonde.
"Apparently," came her voice. It was deeper and more confident sounding than the goth's. "You're smart."
"L-look, Jen - " stammered the blonde.
"Don't you 'look Jen' me," snapped the apparition. "Come to make amends, have you, Sara?"
Sara pursed her lips, saying nothing. Her eyes flicked to the car keys. So did the ghost's.
"I see," said the apparition. "No tricks, no spells of binding, no enslavement this time? That's not your style any longer?"
Sara's pale skin flushed a deep red. "I'm s-so sorry Jennifer, I got caught up in this thing, I tried to speak out against it, Maggie did too - "
Jennifer rolled her ghostly eyes. "All the cool kids were doing it, huh?" she sneered. "And especially your little girlfriend," she added, for emphasis. A savage smile played across her face as she watched Sara's embarrassed, shameful look.
"She's-she's n-not my g-girlf-"
"I know she's not," Jennifer said. "She doesn't notice you, does she?"
Sara looked up. There had been...a different tenor in Jennifer's voice just now. Under her default thorny exterior, there was a feeling of...was it sadness? Wistfulness? Nostalgia?
"W-what do you mean?"
Jennifer folded her hands under her prominent chest, pursing her lips and looking at the floor. She drew and released a long breath, obviously only for emphasis. A few dust motes stirred through her form.
"It's super obvious you like her, Sara," Jennifer said. "And...yeah, no, I don't get it, I don't go for girls, at least I didn't in life. But it does kinda fuckin' suck to have feelings for someone, and not be able to express them."
Sara slowly stood up, looking uncertain, listening to Jennifer.
"It's been...god, decades now that I've been dead," the ghost girl said. "You've got no idea what that's like. No idea how it feels to be a consciousness, a human consciousness, with zero sensory input besides what I can see, and maybe a tiny bit of what I can feel. But the only things I can feel are the pull of spells on my ghostly form, the terror of finding the Reapers watching me. None of the good stuff. None of the reasons people stay alive."
Sara nodded. Her eyes looked sunken, hollow with sadness and regret.
"Jen," she said softly, nervously glancing back at the ghost girl. Jennifer was watching her.
"Jen, I don't think I'll ever be able to make up for what Coraline did to you - and what I was an accomplice to. That was shitty of all of us. Even Maggie - and don't think a day goes by when that girl doesn't angst over it. She beats herself up about it, every single day, even though she was instrumental in saving our asses."
Jennifer sighed, and nodded for Sara to continue.
"I'm getting worried about Maggie, Jen," Sara said. "I'm worried she's going to start getting self-destructive. She's almost consumed by regret for that thing with the Golem. She notices me as just...a friend, I guess, but I...I wonder..."
Jennifer cut in. "You want to get through to her...a bit more deeply than "just friends," don't you?"
Sara pursed her lips, blushing furiously and saying nothing.
The ghost girl laughed, a hollow cruel thing. "Then what do you want from me, Miss Sara, the Spirit-Binder?" she taunted. Her words were cutting, but they didn't have the sharpness as before. Like Jennifer didn't have the vitriol in her as before.
"Seriously," Jennifer said, "what do you want from me? Just wanted to talk? Here to confess to Sister Jennifer, of Our Lady of Perpetual Bewilderment?"
Sara sighed and glanced at Jennifer. In life, she had been a stunner - the better part of six feet in height, with sleek, toned muscle, a prominent, strong chest, and cute features. Even as a ghost, she cut a dramatic figure.
"Mostly just to return what's yours," she sighed, gesturing to the keys. "It's not a circle of binding. It's...I wouldn't call it holy or anything, but it's good magic. Light magic. You know I'm Necromancer by blood, right?"
Jennifer nodded. "Yeah. You guys need to work on your PR."
Sara blushed. "People hear "necromancy" and they get their panties in a knot picturing zombies and vampires and all sorts of horrid undead things. It's not like that. Not all of it, at least."
Jennifer raised her eyebrow. "The good stuff, then."
"Yeah," Sara nodded. "Holy necromancy, some call it. Or spirit magic. Trying to guide spirits to peace, shooing Reapers away, tracking down items of significance. I can't cast spells for shit, Jennifer, but I can sense a memento three blocks away."
"That's how you found my keys."
"Exactly." Sara scratched at the back of her neck. "I'm not an all-purpose magic detector like Maggie...but I also don't risk accidentally consuming it, either." As she said this, her blush deepened and she looked away.
This time, Jennifer didn't sneer, nor did she roll her eyes. She floated a little closer to Sara and laid a hand on her shoulder and let it rest there. It was surprising, that her hand didn't pass through the tiny blonde like it would anyone else, but instead, Sara's shoulder supported her hand as if she were human.
"Part of being descended from necromancers," Sara said. "We're closer to the spirit world. You can touch us...and often, you can harm us."
She didn't shy away, though. Jennifer's hand was cold as the grave, but there was a strength there, a spiritual fortitude that came from Jennifer's strong will in life. Sara pulled her fishnet back from her wrist and slowly took Jennifer's hand in hers.
The ghost girl's eyes closed as Sara took her hand. She looked enraptured, as if she were being held by a lover, her face blissful, her other hand cupping Sara's own.
Sara stood there, not sure what to do. Suddenly, Jennifer's eyes snapped open and she jerked her hands back, pulling them free from Sara's. If ghosts could blush, Jennifer would definitely be red as a beet.
"You okay?" Sara asked.
"Yeah, I'm okay," Jennifer snorted. "Just a little, uh, self-conscious, that's all. I just...I wasn't expecting touching a human to feel so good, and especially not, y'know."
Jennifer's eyes shot daggers at Sara. "Hush you." But her fingers twitched, as if she wanted more human contact.
Sara moved to sit down again, choosing her words carefully. "Jennifer...I understand if it feels weird to you," she said, softly, looking up into Jennifer's eyes. "But I don't judge you. If this helps you heal, then maybe there's some spirit magic in it after all."
Jennifer turned around and stalked away, putting her hands on her hips as she faced away from Sara. A few moments passed before she looked back over her shoulder.
"All right, I guess," the ghost girl said. "But I'm not gonna get frisky with you or anything like that, so get those hopes outta your head right now."
Sara held up her palms in the universal gesture for "whoa, easy there."
"Wouldn't dream of it, Ms Porterfield," she said. Then, with a bit of a grin, "After all, I'd at least expect you to buy me dinner first."
Jennifer finally cracked a smile. She laughed, and glided over. "I can see why you've fallen for Miss Margaret Llewellyn there. You're just as freakin' ridiculous as she is."
Sara flushed red as Jennifer sat down beside her, translucent and softly glowing. The ghost girl was much more at ease now, something which Sara greatly appreciated. She hadn't been kidding about spirits being able to harm her if they so wanted, and Jennifer looked powerful enough to snap her like a dry twig.
Slowly, Jennifer's hand closed over Sara's own, and the sensation of human contact flowed into the ghost girl. Sara smiled, watching the bliss creep up and over Jennifer's features, her glow softening, the marks of her baneful, Banshee side retreating.
Sara took a chance and slowly looped an arm around Jennifer's broad shoulders. She was hesitant, slightly terrified of the prospect, but Jennifer just smiled and leaned her head in to rest it on Sara's tiny, slender shoulder. It would have been an odd sight for sure, even if Jennifer were alive, to see a tall, confident girl like Jennifer resting her shoulder on a timid, soft-spoken little goth like Sara.
They sat like that for almost an hour, leaning back against the wall, with Sara just letting Jennifer soak in all the human contact she wanted. Sara ran her hand through Jennifer's spectral hair, eliciting a murmur of happiness from her new friend.
Friend. Where had that come from? Was Jennifer her friend now? She'd just come here to try and make amends with the ghost girl, but now, here she was, holding her as a caring friend.
Jennifer, meanwhile, was comfortable as a cat. Though she was cold as the grave, she loved the warmth emanating from Sara, even though her sense of touch was nigh-nonexistent. Just the act of touch, though - the pressure of another being's body, the warmth, the...intimacy? That wasn't the right word. It was intimate, but not like a romance was intimate. More like...shared vulnerability. She was letting her guard down around Sara, but she realized that, between the two of them, Sara was much, much more vulnerable than she was.
It took a long while, but finally, Jennifer spoke up.
"Sara," she said, and there was a hint of nervousness in her voice, "we don't hafta, you know, sit on the floor."
Sara kept stroking Jennifer's hair. "Mmhmm?" she asked, softly, nonthreateningly.
"Look, I don't wanna make this weird..." Jennifer began, but trailed off.
Sara spoke up. "It's not weird to me."
There was a pause.
"Okay, fair enough," Sara said, "I'm in the basement of a haunted mansion cuddling with a ghost girl who could probably rip me limb from limb. It's a little weird."
Jennifer laughed. "Yeah, it is," she said, but she didn't pull away. "I don't, y'know, I still don't...it's not my thing - I mean girls aren't - "
"It's okay, Jennifer," Sara said. "Just friends, remember?"
"I was, uh, thinking," Sara said. "About the human contact." She braced herself mentally, but Jennifer spoke up first.
"I could have possessed you, if I wanted to. Some spirits woulda done that straight away."
Sara gave a nod. "Yeah. You could have. I knew it was risky coming here."
"Yeah, maybe, I dunno," Jennifer said. "Kinda jumped the gun on judging you, didn't I?"
Sara didn't say anything for a long moment.
"You know," she said, "being a necromancer, possession isn't really the only way we can interact with spirits."
Jennifer, her head still resting on Sara's shoulder, raised an eyebrow. "Wait, what?" she asked. "What do you mean?"
Sara swallowed, her voice a little nervous. "Well, there is something I've read about...and I've never actually done it, because, well, it takes a lot of trust in both parties, and I guess, well, you could say I've never exactly met a spirit I could trust..."
Jennifer poked Sara in the ribs. "Go on, girlie, spit it out."
Sara squeaked in surprise and relaxed, smiling. "Oof. Okay, okay. It's a rite of bonding. It's kind of like possession, but instead of a puppetmaster pulling strings, you combine two spirits into one living form."
"Like...like sharing a body?" Jennifer asked. An edge of need crept into her voice, at the prospect of being able to have human sensations again.
Sara nodded and ran a hand through Jennifer's hair. "More. Sharing everything. Sharing a mind, sharing emotions. The two, at least for a little while, become one being, their spirits interlinked. It's so much more than possession."
"Think about it this way," Sara said. "Imagine you're puppeteering a marionette, pulling the strings. You can use the puppet to pick things up, move them around, but you feel only what's transmitted up the strings. Now compare that to actually being there in person, interacting with your environment yourself, no intermediary. You touch something, you feel it yourself. You can be hurt, burned, healed. You feel it."
Jennifer's breathing grew more excited, no small feat for a dead-and-gone ghost girl.
"R-really?" she said.
"I think so," Sara said. "But I'm cautious about employing it. It takes a huge amount of trust in your partner, and it's...well, let's just say that "intimate" under-sells it a bit. I want you to know what you're getting into."
Jennifer nodded. Intimate or no, this was a way for her to actually live again, at least for a short time. And Sara was so very sweet, and kind...
"Okay," Jennifer said. "I know what I'm getting into. Let's do this."
Sara took Jennifer's hand lightly in her own and both girls stood up. She placed her other hand upon Jennifer's and looked up into the much taller girl's eyes.
"Okay. We can do this here, or elsewhere in this house. The magic is strong on these grounds, and it will make for the best results for us."
Jennifer bit her lip. The feeling of Sara's hands within hers was disconcertingly good. She really had been starved for human contact thanks to her time as a ghost, and even though Sara's hands were small and slender in her own, they were warm and friendly. They felt...genuine, for some reason. A lot like Sara herself, Jennifer mused.
She gave Sara's hands a squeeze. "I think it might be better if we used one of the bedrooms." At this, Jennifer looked sheepishly at the floor, and opened her mouth to speak.
"I know," Sara said, very softly. "Not like that. Only what you're comfortable with."
Jennifer smiled and pulled Sara in for a hug. Sara briefly felt the wind leave her as Jennifer's powerful form gave her a tight squeeze, then released her. To be sure, in life Jennifer had certainly had an amazing body.
Sara recovered her breath and gave Jennifer's hand a squeeze. "Okay, lead the way. Should I bring your keys?"
"Yeah," Jennifer replied. "Let's go."
Jennifer led Sara into an upstairs bedroom, one on the inside of the house and therefore, nearly intact. It was, however, quite dark, with the only light coming from Jennifer's own ghostly luminescence. The small blonde reached into her bag and began to set up her candles, having snuffed out and erased the sigil she'd made in the basement. It was careful work for her, mostly because she hadn't done anything like this before, and she didn't want to mess anything up.
Jennifer was watching intently. As she gazed, she began to appreciate the care that Sara was putting into her craft. Sara was muttering to herself as she worked. "No, mustn't put this here, need to redraw this sigil, let's see if I can get the candles a little more even, that'll make things better for the spirit..."
With Sara distracted, Jennifer glided over to the corner of the room and allowed herself a little time to freak out. She was seriously going to feel how it would be to be human again?! This was amazing - far more than she'd ever hoped. And to think she'd nearly driven Sara away out of rage. She looked over at the little blonde goth and saw no malice in her. Part of what was taking Sara so long to put this together was that she didn't want to harm the ghost. Just think about that for a second! Didn't want to harm a ghost. Jennifer sighed contentedly, then shivered with a little happy noise.
Nearly half an hour later, Sara was finally convinced that her ritual was ready. Jennifer couldn't tell much of a difference, but Sara seemed satisfied and that's what mattered, in Jennifer's mind.
"Ready?" Jennifer asked.
Sara took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Jennifer could feel the blood pounding in Sara's veins, evidence of nervousness.
"Y-yeah," she said. "I'm ready."
She started to lead Jennifer back to the circle, but Jennifer held her hands to stop her.
Sara looked up at her, confused. Jennifer shook her head.
"Look...Sara," she said, her voice solemn. "I've gone...shit, decades now without this feeling. I can keep it up, if you don't feel safe. You don't have to do this for me."
Sara shook her head, causing a few ripples to shimmer down her long blonde hair.
"N-no, I know, I know," she said. "But I feel like...like I owe you one. A big one. I've never seen this done before, and as for what'll happen...well, the details are kinda vague. For all I know you might just end up riding shotgun in my head for a while." She brushed a string of hair from her face and tried to slow her breathing. "But I want to do this. I think you've gotten a pretty poor deal from us, and it's the most, uh, intimate and vulnerable thing I can think of to give you."
Jennifer smiled and gave Sara a hug. "Yeah, you guys did kinda give me a shit deal. But that's not you, I know. It's not Maggie, either. Those other two...they got way too damn carried away."
Sara said nothing, blushing red. Jennifer gave her hands a squeeze.
"If you're okay with it," the ghost girl said, "lead on."
Sara swallowed, smiled up at Jennifer and led her into the circle, careful not to disturb any of the five candles burning at the same height. She clasped Jennifer's hands in hers, then, looking into Jennifer's eyes, slid the ghost's hands onto her waist, looking comically like two high schoolers dancing awkwardly.
The little goth then moved closer, muttering an incantation in Latin. Jennifer couldn't pick out much, but she could tell the words "veritas" and "fidelis," truth and loyalty, specifically, and felt a sort of warmth begin to envelop her. Both words made sense - after all, if they'd be sharing a mind, there were certainly no secrets between them. And with that power of truth came the necessity of loyalty, of friendship. A love between friends, perhaps?
Sara slid her hands up onto Jennifer's cheeks, her fingertips resting in Jennifer's spectral hair behind her ears. Slowly, she guided Jennifer to bend her head until both girls' foreheads were pressing together. Both girls felt that warm, comforting feeling enveloping them, a sign that the bonding ritual was working. Sara seemed to be gaining confidence in her abilities, and her voice was getting a little steadier.
A quick flash of memory, swift as a bird zooming from a bush and out of sight, flitted through Jennifer's head. It was one of Sara's, she noticed, as the viewpoint was much shorter, the other people that much taller and more imposing. They were high school kids, sneering at her, telling her to take her freaky vampire shit elsewhere - but then the memory was gone, and Sara was shivering a little as, undoubtedly, she had seen one of Jennifer's.
Another memory - eating dinner with her family, being ignored as the girl in black at the end of the table, as her blonde outgoing brothers dominated the conversation. Then another, happily filling a sketchbook with fantastical scenes of flowers and spiders and Cheshire cats. Then another, the first stirrings of desire, of a sexual awakening. Jennifer felt the last one powerfully, and as she stood there, forehead pressed against Sara's, a whispered moan escaped her.
The two girls stood embracing, their minds beginning to intertwine like ivy, experimentally testing the strength of the others. Then, as they moved closer, Jennifer's spectral form and Sara's corporeal body began to lose their ability to touch and press against one another. It happened slowly, as Jennifer slid a little into Sara, and Sara had to readjust her stance - she'd been leaning on Jennifer a little hard. Sara felt a bizarre sensation going through her, like she was being bathed in icewater and immediately dried off, repeatedly, every time Jennifer slid a little into her. Jennifer felt as though she was immersed in hot steam, warming her to the core.
Sara opened her eyes and looked directly into Jennifer's own. The tips of their noses were touching, their lips barely an inch from one another's. Jennifer's ghoulish green glow had turned a sort of warm, summery yellow, the yellow of cornfields and sunflowers.
The look between the two girls was implicit, and with their minds beginning to entwine, both realized one thing:
This was the point of no return.
A few seconds passed, each girl offering the other the chance to break the spell. Neither did.
Jennifer closed her eyes, a smile spreading over her face, and she moved forward. Her lips passed right through Sara's own, her spectral body stepping into the far smaller frame of Sara. There was no going back now.
Sara opened her eyes as Jennifer stepped into her, and now she could feel both the icewater and the steam. It was an absolutely bizarre sensation, but...it didn't feel bad. The oscillating ice and fire within her were weirdly comforting to her, as the two beings began to link all throughout her body.
That's when things began to get weird.
A shiver wracked Sara as she felt Jennifer's powerful spirit filling her being up. But the filling sensation didn't stop once it had reached her skin, the tips of her fingers and toes. It pressed outwards, softly at first, but then firmer and harder and more violently.
"J-Jennifer," Sara stammered, and now her voice had gone hoarse, "what the hell, what the - mmhhh!" A cry escaped her as she stumbled and fell against the bed.
Her mind was starting to swim, memories swirling together. It was her at the dinner table with her brothers, but it was also her - it was Jennifer sitting there being ignored. Then it was the kids sneering at her, but they were sneering at Jennifer, who was flipping them off. What was going on? Was this what it felt like to link minds?
A wave of vertigo swept her and she clamped her shivering, pale hand down upon the bed post. Jennifer didn't know what was happening, either. Neither of them knew what this physical and mental pressure was.
Sara's tiny body spasmed and it was as if her insides had all knotted up, compressed down into as little as possible by the force of what her body was trying to contain. The outward pressure intensified, her breathing became ragged and shallow, and Sara wondered if she would burst like a balloon. Jennifer's consciousness swirled inside of her, worried, in sync with Sara's. Both girls looked through Sara's eyes, their gaze wandering, hazy, vertigo swimming in their head.
That's when they saw Sara's trembling hand clutching the bed post tightly.
It began on her fingertips, where the pressure intensified, and in one small spasm, her fingernails each grew a few millimeters longer. The black nail polish on each one started to split, forming hairline cracks. Then it was her fingers, trembling and tiny. As they watched, Sara's fingers and hand began to slowly creep larger, covering more of the round bed post in their grip. Their eyes went wide as they realized something.
This wasn't confined to just Sara's hand.
As the pressure built, it became an effort simply to draw breath, as if lungs were collapsing at the crushing pressure of the ocean depths. Sara's sneakers began to pinch, and her legs felt wobbly and weak. The surface of the old bed beckoned her but she kept trying to stand.
Stars began to appear before their eyes as their mind began to black out from lack of oxygen. Eyes shut tight, then snapped open to reveal Jennifer's chocolate brown irises instead of Sara's own. Gritting her teeth, she willed her body to draw breath, willing it with a mind that was quickly beginning to interlock and fall into place. Her lungs resisted, crushed tight by the pressure, but then slowly, deliberately, they began to swell with air.
Jennifer's mind lit up with the sensation of drawing breath. Sara's mind flooded with relief. As their minds embraced and melded, with that success, they drew strength.
With each subsequent, hard-fought breath, Sara's faux corset began to draw tighter. It started slowly, a few strain lines pinching up below her arms. Trembling, she looked down and, eyes wide, saw that her pale, tiny chest, skin soft and delicate, was beginning to change. Her chest pushed forward, just a little, each time she took a breath. Her shoulders grew just a little bit farther apart, and a little creak came from her top.
"Wh - wh - " she tried to say, but the pressure drove the words from her in a *whoosh* of breath. She stumbled forward and rolled onto the bed, kicking up a puff of dust from the old blanket.
Strength welled up from her mind. Jennifer's strength. Clarity came shortly thereafter. Sara's.
Eyes opened, teeth gritted, she once more fought to draw breath into her body. Her fists balled up as she forced her lungs to expand, and musty air filled her lungs. Her chest rose and rose, and from the corner of her vision, she could see that it wasn't all due to her breath. She felt her pale, soft breasts filling up, firmness welling up within them as they pressed against the confines of the fabric faux-corset. It began to take on the shape, more and more, of the mounds rising underneath.
Breathing becoming regular, she realized her top wasn't all that was growing tighter. Her skirt had risen at least three inches from her ankles. Her legs crept towards the foot of the bed, pale smooth skin expanding and lengthening out from the long, pitch black skirt. Higher up, the thin fabric began to grip her rear, tightening as muscle built when there had been little more than skin and bone before.
She recognized her body as her own...but also not her own. This body was in limbo, stuck between the tiny slender form of Sara, and the tall, powerfully-built body Jennifer had commanded in life.
A shock of brown went through her pale hair, just one, but prominent and straight down the front, casting her pixie face into a stark contrast. She looked over to see her fists looking strong and confident, sleek, the capable hands of a warrior woman.
And wasn't that what she was becoming? A sort of warrior woman? She laughed, and though there was pressure within her, trying to crush her lungs back down, she could now draw breath with less effort, less thought. She was becoming a master of this strange, mutating body.
The thought sent a smile playing over her lips. Turning her head, she looked over to her arm, which had grown sleek and athletic, like a tennis player's. She flexed her fingers experimentally, starting to admire her form, and then balled them up into a fist, slowly bringing it up towards her. Below the translucent gray top, her pale skin rose and bulged into a bicep, finally beginning to fill out and stretch the translucent fabric. Similarly, her shoulders began to cap with muscle, a single thin vein running down the edge of each bicep.
The sight of her body and its feeling of power awakened something else within her. As she watched her chest pushing out, larger and more round, rubbing and sliding against cheap polyester. Her lips parted as her breasts seemed to grow more sensitive, and as she indulged these sensations, she felt an ache, a tightness building atop each as her nipples stiffened and pushed against the fabric. She shuddered, rolled her hips in pleasure, and brought her hands up to slide her fingers over them. The thin, translucent top she wore over her faux corset rubbed between her fingertips and the bulges of the top of each breast, and as she worked the thin fabric against her skin, additional nerves lit up and came on line. The transformation had gone from being strange and uncomfortable to new, exciting, and sensual.
The part of her that had belonged to Jennifer was on fire with pleasure. The sensation of growth was a fantasy Jennifer had long entertained, and never been able to act upon. It had been a forbidden pleasure to Jennifer, who had posed in the privacy of her room, taking old flimsy clothing that was too small for her and tearing it around her body. She never fully understood exactly why it got her off so much, but often, she would collapse onto the bed afterwards and, face flushed with embarrassment and arousal, begin to work herself over.
The part of her that had been Sara was, if possible, even more turned on. Sara had watched as Maggie took a blast of arcane energy straight in the chest, and subsequently turn all that energy into fuel for a startling transformation. Maggie was only a couple inches taller than Sara was, and probably weighed the same, but the waifish girl had transformed before Sara's eyes into a powerful, hulking, nine-foot amazon with a build straight out of a comic book. A She-Hulk comic book. Sara had never forgotten the tension and arousal on Maggie's face as she burst free from her tight clothing, and nearly every night after that, Sara had been overcome with desire to see Maggie do it again.
The transforming girl clutched tighter at her growing breasts, feeling them bulge and swell between her fingers. Hard nipples rubbed tighter against the cheap fabric, and she writhed her legs in pleasure. The tightening skirt strained around her far longer, shapelier legs, doing its best to stay intact. But her breathing was coming much more easily now, as her body had expanded to accommodate both girls she was born from. As she greedily gulped in air and arched her back, the pleasure of the change outweighed the discomfort and she pushed her head back with a moan. Instinctively, she spread her legs, and the straining skirt split down either side as pale white, athletic flesh tore free of its confines.
"Yes," she mouthed, feeling her legs split free of the skirt. Her voice came out heavier, deeper, and with a strong breathiness to it. "More," she moaned. "Please more~"
She detached one hand from caressing and squeezing her breasts and began to glide it down her abdomen. Yes, she knew. This was right. This was correct. Both Jennifer and Sara had longed for this for so long...
She lifted the scraps of her black skirt and slid a few fingers over the top of her cloth panties. Unsurprisingly, they were sopping wet. Her fingers dug in deeper and pressed the cloth down, beginning a slow and deliberate circle.
Lightning arced through her mind and she clenched her toes. Right on cue, the creaks of her shoes were replaced by a sharp popping sound as adhesive and stitching gave way. Her feet popped the middle of the shoe open, like a banana being opened the wrong way. As she gyrated her hips, she pointed her toes and straightened her legs out, and the toe end of the shoe gave way, splitting from the big toe all the way down to the pinky. She kicked, but the shoes stayed on, snug around her heels.
The translucent gray top was beginning to make itself known around her chest. It was a thin, gauzy fabric, intentionally loose. But that had been around Sara. Now, it was tightening up, acting more like shrinkwrapped pantyhose around her upper body. As she squeezed and lifted at her chest, her bicep provoked a long, light patch running down the thin fabric, right over the prominent vein. The light patch widened and rounded, finally splitting apart and letting the pale hard flesh of her upper arm free.
At the sounds of the tearing fabric, excitement thrilled through her, like a web of lightning beginning to build between her legs. Her breathing was deep and sensual now. The cheap polyester corset was, surprisingly, the one article of clothing that was so far undamaged, but its time was coming to an end. She felt the transformation heating her up, the filling sensation building within her.
It was coming time.
She threw her head back, breathing hard, nostrils flaring in excitement. Neither Jennifer nor Sara had had anything like this before. Neither of them had felt that lightning web burning within them like she did now. But she was neither Jennifer, nor was she Sara.
She was both.
The corset strained tight around a body that it was never meant to contain. The girl on the bed had grown straight up to six feet tall, Jennifer's height, and then kept going. Her long, long legs were nearly at the foot of the bed now, and her vibrant blonde hair, struck through with one brilliant shining lock of chocolate brown, was spilling off the bed's head.
Subconsciously, she felt both of her components crying out in pleasure. Individually, this would have been too much for either of them. But not only could she endure twice as much, she could feel twice as much. Jennifer's ecstasy cried out and moaned and thrashed in pleasurable transgression, while Sara's whined and gritted teeth and squirmed in beautiful ecstatic agony. Both overlaid themselves upon one another in her mind; she experienced them mixed into a foaming cocktail of lust.
Her lips began to tremble as the feeling built to a head within her, boiling over. She shuddered, jerking, and with each spasm, a few stitches would pop on her corset.
Finally, she could take no more. She closed a strong hand over her top, jerking with pleasure, gritted her teeth, and pulled. The top strained and split off her in a firecracker-like string of cracks and pops and ripping. She tore the corset and the translucent top away, baring her chest to the dim, dusky light.
What she saw drove her over the edge. Her breasts were magnificent, heavy and round and perfectly firm, supported by taut pale skin and strong chest muscles that shone with sweat. Her left nipple had nearly swallowed up Sara's piercing as it engorged, and the metal was warm with heat. Her abdominals were ripped and hard, a deep crevasse running straight down to her belly button. This wasn't just Jennifer's body. This was Jennifer's body, augmented by Sara's desires, insecurities, and dreams.
She came in a crescendo of screams and moans, boiling over for nearly a minute as she thrashed upon the old bed. As the stars began to clear from her vision, her lips parted to breathe. Perfect, hot breath, as the blood thundered in her ears.
"I," she panted, "could get used to this."
Slowly, she got to her feet, swinging her legs off the bed and standing to her full height of six feet three inches. Her strength came from Jennifer, but her pale skin and mostly-blonde hair was all Sara. Her jawline, stark and strong and graceful, was thanks to Jennifer as well, replacing Sara's narrower face. Her mind cleared. She enjoyed athletics and boxing, but she also enjoyed artistry and substance. Perhaps she could pose as a figure model, she thought. Yes, of course. Maggie would love that.
A smile spread over her lips as she remembered her little friend. Ah yes, Maggie did go for tall, sexy women, didn't she? That was easy to remember. And her feelings for Maggie? Ah yes - those were all Sara's. But to her surprise, it felt natural to all of her. The parts of her that had been Jennifer waged little protest at those desires - in fact, they stirred in sync with Sara's.
"Perhaps it's time for you to meet Jennara," she said, and licked her lips.