A-Tit-ude Adjustment

Josh stared at the door.

'The shadow under it shifted.'

Then it creaked open.

'Trisha.

One slipper on. Bonnet half off. Nightie twisted.

She looked like she'd been dragged out of sleep by a full-on emergency.'

She stared at him.

'Josh.

Shirtless.

Drunk.

Sweaty.

With a full set of magical E-cup tits bouncing gently as he shifted his weight.'

Trisha "…Josh."

He smiled weakly.

Josh "Hey, babe."

She didn’t move.

Trisha "Why are you naked from the waist up and stacked like a page three girl?"

Josh pointed toward the table.

Josh "There’s a book. Magic. Cursed, probably. You write something, it happens. I thought it was a joke. I wrote something stupid. Now I have—these." He gestured vaguely at his chest with both hands.

She looked. Then back at his face.

Trisha "You really are drunk."

Josh "Yes."

Trisha "You found a book and your first thought was ‘boobs’?"

Josh "Yes."

Trisha "You wrote it down without knowing what it did?"

Josh "Yes."

She walked over to the table.

The book sat there. Worn. Bound in leather and metal. Unmoving.

She picked it up. Flipped it open. Read the rules.

No comment.

She picked up the quill.

Josh flinched.

Josh "Wait, you’re not gonna—?"

She wrote:

Trisha "Josh’s tits reduce to double AA cup."

Ink soaked into the page. Disappeared.

Josh looked down.

'His chest began to slowly shrink.

Just retract. Firm, visible, uncomfortable reduction.'

Trisha watched with no visible emotion.

He swayed slightly with relief.

Josh "Thank you. You don’t know what it’s like—"

She yanked her nightie down, pulled her own out, and glared at him.

Trisha "…Say that again."

Josh blinked.

Paused.

Josh "…You’re right. I take that back."

She put herself away and crossed her arms.

Trisha "Idiot."

Josh "Yes."

Trisha "You woke me up for this."

Josh "Yes."

Trisha "You didn’t even have the decency to text first."

Josh "Yes."

Trisha "Were you going to sleep like this?"

Josh "I hadn’t gotten that far yet."

Trisha stared at him, arms crossed.

Trisha "You smell like a pub toilet."

Josh opened his mouth.

Trisha "Don’t."

He closed it.

Trisha "You’re not getting in that bed like this. Shower. Now. Use soap this time. The real kind. Not that ‘2-in-1’ bottle you stole from Peat."

Josh gave her a slow nod.

Josh "Yes ma’am."

He shuffled off, still shirtless, still mildly traumatised, and now very aware of how long it had been since his last full-body wash.

Trisha watched him go.

Then looked down at the book.

She didn’t touch it.

Didn’t move it.

Just stared for a long moment like she was sizing up a rival.

Then turned away.

She padded down the hallway toward the bedroom, already planning to steal the blanket and all the good side of the bed.

'The book sat on the table.

Unclaimed.

Unused.

Still open.

Waiting.'