Ashley Price, Crafty Plotting and Body Rocking

As far as devious schemes go, the one you and your friends come up with for dosing your piece of shit cousin isn't all that elaborate. Both the football team and the cheerleading squad meet today and will let out into your school's absurdly nice gym for more free form workouts, so the opportunity is there. Jenny and Isabelle will simply add some of the magical milk to a sports bottle of the neon green sewage Jesse insisted on drinking, offer it to him when they invariably cross paths, and let the rest run its course.

"We have to give him a chance, though," Isabelle insists as she carefully tips a little of the cream into the chosen bottle. "Even if he is maybe the worst person I've ever met. Otherwise we're just...I don't know, we'd sort of be monsters, right? This way he could come out of this unchanged, if he's strong enough. We're giving him a chance."

You slip a finger under the milk bottle, tipping it in Isabelle's hand to pour in a more generous amount. "We don't have to give him that good of a chance."

Isabelle purses her lips, but at your steeled face and Jenny's insistent nod she shrugs her consent. She screws the cap back on the sports bottle then tucks it away in her gym bag, both cheerleaders flashing you the Girl Scout salute before hurrying off to their practice. So there. In about an hour, Jesse and his threats will be neutralized. Whatever happens to him, you're entirely certain it's a far **** fate than anything he might have had planned for you, or your mother. And besides. That moment where a single deliberate step into your personal space transformed him from a worthy target for your righteous anger into a legitimate and immediate physical threat was all it took for him to crumble all of your newfound confidence and strength. Even if it was only for a moment, you were terrified of him. He knew it, and he had loved it. Fucking asshole.

Still, it's out of your hands now. Nothing left to do but wait around for the practices to let out and then enjoy the fireworks. Yep. Nothing to do but wait.

......

............

...............Fuck. This is unbearable. You'd better find something to do or you're going to legit go insane.

Well, you're at the gym. And you're dressed for the gym. And as far as you can tell, you must on some level enjoy the gym now. So...work out? You have literally never done that before. And how is that even going to work given your ample gifts? You carefully put a hand on either side of your huge rack, humming contentedly as you give your boobs a fun little squish. Yeah, working out isn't in the cards for a big girl like you. There's a little juice bar attached to the facilities, maybe just go get a drink and chill out?

A small but resolute voice from deep within your soul vetoes that plan. -go do an ab circuit-

You frown, giving your boobs another squish. There's got to be a compromise here, right Stern Inner Ash Voice? You're still kinda worked up from before, and there's no one around at this hour. Maybe sneak into the bathroom and take care of business? That'd be fun for everyone!

-no shut up do an ab circuit you titty monster-

A pout and a regretful parting pat for your breasts is closest thing to a retort you can muster as you sulk away to snag a gym mat. Fucking taskmaster inner voice. That bimbo voice would have absolutely been down for rubbing out a few in the bathroom. You unroll the mat with more grumbles than strictly necessary and flop down to your belly, angrily waiting for your internal personal instructor to tell you what to do next. Before it has a chance, however, you notice the nearby barbell that's been left out by some earlier, inconsiderate gym goer. You cock your head to one side, taking in the rather innocuous piece of exercise equipment, then blink as your body lifts itself into a push up position.

You boggle slightly as you push your hips back and up, waggling your rounded bottom in the air for a moment as you bring your head back, way deeper than you thought possible. You then smoothly drop your hips, pulling back your shoulders and puffing out your wobbling chest. Oh man, you actually know what this is! It's Downward Dog into Upward Dog, right? You repeat the motion a few more times, a grin coming unbidden to your face as you revel in the sensation of your stretching muscles.

Maybe you've been this Ashley long enough for her past knowledge and experience to start bleeding into your subconscious? You certainly seem to know what to do as you bob and work your ankles for a moment, then switch to a plank position and begin carefully walking your feet up towards your fingers. You're stunned to find you can quite easily bring them nearly all the way to your hands, your legs completely upright with your palms flat on the ground, before you inchworm your feet backwards again and restart the process.

After a few more repetitions of that, you dip into a couple easy side lunges. Once you straighten up, however, lifting one knee to swing it to the side and drop into a deeper lunge, the serious little voice cuts in.

-wrong warm up series-

You ignore the voice, huffing out a controlled breath as you gracefully swing your chest towards your back foot.

-no deadlifts today do an ab circuit-

The voice continues to grumble reproachfully at you as you balance on one foot, hinging forward at the hip to tap the ground with your fingers while keeping your back leg balanced straight behind you. Confident you're fully warmed up, you stride over to the abandoned barbell and scoot your feet underneath it, keeping them parallel as you bring your shins right up to the bar.

You sink into a squat, elbows locked as you take hold of the barbell and steady your breathing. Properly set, you roll your shoulders back, put your chest up, then lean back and load all of the weight into your hamstrings and glutes as you lift. You release your breath as you straighten, the bar rolling up your shins and quads until you're fully upright. You deeply flex your delightful butt as you hit the top, pausing for a moment before dropping back down, keeping the bar in line with your body. You repeat that four more times, your back completely flat and eyes straight out as you make sure to push all the way back both up and down.

You release your grip after the fifth rep, indulging in a pleased groan and a little back arch before idly glancing down towards the weights.

-its two hundred-

Oh true? Not so terrible, Ash.

-okay fine thirty seconds then set number two get ready-

You have to grin at that, mentally offering your strict inner voice a high five. You get the distinct feeling that it declines. Oh well, you think as you drop down to begin your second of five sets. Baby steps.

As you lounge in a chair at the gym juice bar, dabbing the sweat from your brow between sips of coconut water, you can't help wonder at the fact that while being the direct beneficiary of magic is weird, being the indirect beneficiary is even weirder.

Like, when you were turned into a girl, it was just done. Magic took care of everything. But when you got this fucking amazing body, with its glorious boobs and killer tone, that was from magic doing its thing to your mom, not to you. So while you're pretty sure Mallory Price can keep her otherworldly figure without concerns for what she eats or how much she exercises because, well, Magic, you absolutely can't. Your supernatural genetics got you a long way, but the only way to keep it up is going to be through a lot of sweat and effort.

And you sort of love it.

Like, you could probably just magic yourself permanently hot now? That's what the bimbo coo would have done. But the stern little voice says that's cheating, and you absolutely agree. And furthermore, you're finding you relish the feeling of a good workout. Your impromptu strength training might mean you'll be sore tomorrow, but you're going to sleep like a goddamn log tonight. Fair trade.

You're so caught up in enjoying your post exertion glow that the boy trying to get your attention has to call out your name a second time. You tilt your head over his way and are surprised to find yourself face to face with an oddly damp and sticky looking Collin. It hasn't been all that long since you last saw him, really, but it feels like it was a lifetime ago. In a very real sense, it was. Are you even friends still? You realize that you hope so; you'd always thought Colin was sweet in a dopey sort of way. He certainly seems pleased to see you, though you're quite certain any boy and most girls would be pleased to see you now.

Probably best to just roll with it.

You give Colin a grin in greeting, patting the chair beside you. He plops down with a grateful groan, pushing the sweat-limp hair out of his face as he fans himself. "Blugh. Why didn't they tell me it would be so hot?"

You frown at that as you push your coconut water to the grateful boy, Colin immediately taking a needy gulp. "No idea what you're talking about."

"The costume! It's fucking hot in that thing!"

What is he...oh. Oh, haha, for real? Colin had joked about about this, but you never in a million years thought he'd go through with it. "You mean you actually tried out to be the school mascot?"

"As a joke, but I guess I must be some sort of mascot prodigy because they just gave it to me right away. I didn't have a chance to say no!"

"Uh yeah, because no one else wants to do it. For like, a billion reasons. Not least of which is the obvious fact that the inside of a giant bull made of foam and felt is fucking hot."

Colin groans again, slumping into his chair as he presses the bottle to his forehead. Wait, so if Colin's the mascot and he's here, that means that...Oh shit.

Football practice must be out.

You scooting around in your chair to watch the gym entrance, trying your damnedest to be sneaky about it. And sure enough, here comes the football team. If Collin is curious as to why you're suddenly crouched down below the counter, eyes popped up as you scan the chattering athletes for a sign of your cousin or your friends, he's too pooped to mention it. Or maybe he just doesn't realize something is up. Again: Colin is sweet, but sort of a dumdum.

The whole team seems to have filed into the gym by this point, and so far nothing. You're almost ready to call the plan a bust when the all-too familiar sound of Jesse's braying laughter hits your ears. Okay yeah, there the bastard is, yucking it up with two of his cronies as they head towards the locker rooms. And...there's no bottle. Why doesn't he have a bottle? Fuck, where's the bottle?!

Your heart sinks as Jesse and his lackeys work their way across the room, very nearly slipping out of your grasp. Fuck. You're going to have to come up with another master plan, aren't you? Do you have a little voice that can come up with master plans?

-no-

Fuck.

Hope springs anew in your chest as a figure suddenly darts across your field of vision, waving its arms as it flags down Jesse. The boy turns with a look of confusion that sinks into one smug lasciviousness as the figure is revealed to be Jenny, still in her cheerleading uniform. She's clearly trying to catch her breath as she offers the all-important sports bottle to Jesse, saying something you're too far away to make out.

What the fuck, he's shaking his head no!

Jenny tries to press the bottle into his hands but Jesse simply gives his goons a roll of his eyes, offering some undoubtedly grotesque quip by the way the other two boys cackle. He starts to turn, very nearly disappearing into the boys' lockers before Isabelle makes her heroic appearance, a softly indulgent smile on her face as she leans in to say something to your cousin.

God, you wish you could hear what she was saying. It certainly has Jesse held to his place, the boy staring at Isabelle with a look of blank concentration as she murmurs to him. After what seems like an eternity, she widens her smile and extends the bottle to Jesse. He blinks at it, the rolls his eyes towards his friends again. For a moment you're convinced he's going to turn and leave, but then he reaches out to snag the bottle.

Fucking yes.

Isabelle and Jenny quickly turn at that, the former immediately spotting you and flashing a little hidden thumbs up in your direction. God she is so fucking cute. You very nearly return the gesture when Isabelle yelps, shock in her eyes as she suddenly clutches at her backside and hops into the air. She can only glare backwards as Jesse and his henchmen roar in brutish humor, the slap your cousin delivered to the girl's ass practically ringing through the gym it was so loud. They vanish into the lockers as Isabelle turns beet red, Jenny glaring after the departing jocks.

You should have dumped the whole fucking bottle of milk in there.

Isabelle has stopped having to sit so gingerly on her backside at this point, and that's sign enough that too much time has passed. It's been like twenty minutes, shouldn't they have come out by now? It definitely wasn't the wrong sports bottle or anything, so once Jesse drank it he should have...well, wait.

What if he.......oh, fuck. FUCK.

You grab Jenny by the shoulders, the girl taken aback by the desperation in your eyes. "We have to get into that locker room right now."

Jenny glances nervously over at Isabelle before meeting your eyes. "What? Why?"

"Because maybe Jesse isn't going to drink it."

Isabelle tilts her head to one side. "Then we just try again, right?"

"No listen, if he doesn't drink the bottle then he just HAS the milk."

Isabelle's eyebrows shoot up at that, the two cheerleaders sharing a look of sudden horror before the three of you burst from your seats, hurrying towards the locker rooms as quickly as you can without causing a scene. You probably do cause a little bit of a scene, actually, but who fucking cares. This is dire shit. This is end of the world level shit. This is swarms of locusts and blood from the sky type shit.

This could be fucking bad.

The other players are still at work in the gym, so the hallway to the locker rooms are empty. So is the boy's locker room itself, though it's immediately apparent that something is up. An odd noise is echoing out from somewhere deeper in, too muffled by the sound of running water to define but absolutely there. It is definitely coming from the showers. The three of you spare a moment to share an unsettled glance, huddling together before cautiously starting towards the source of the noise, arms linked and hearts steeled for whatever you might find.

And what you find is....well, it's just one of Jesse's cronies, apparently keeping guard over the closed doors to the showers and quite surprised to see you. He sputters in surprise, almost losing his balance as he simultaneously tries to flee and block you from coming any closer. Eventually his brain catches up to his body and he manages to **** something out. "Hey, y-you're not allowed in here!"

Ugh, this dude's the kicker. You could definitely just beat him up. Jenny is apparently of a similar mind. "Kyle, do you want to step out of the way, or do you want to get shoved into a locker? You're petite. You'd fit."

Kyle gulps at that, all but collapsing in on himself. "I, um...y-you don't wanna go in, though. Dudes're showering. It's like...Dong City in there."

Isabelle gives an exasperated sigh as the three of you defiantly start forward, Kyle who is a kicker not a guard immediately shrinking away to give you passage. You shoulder through the wall of steam that rushes from the suddenly open shower doors, barely having time to notice the empty sports bottle cast aside on the shower floor before a gasp from Isabelle and a decidedly feminine groan of pleasure draw your attention elsewhere.

Your immediate, stupid thought is that the girl currently on her hands and knees, grunting in delight as she's railed from behind by Jesse's other goon, sure looks a lot like you, and isn't that weird? There are certainly differences; the hips her sex buddy greedily grips are decidedly wider and the expansive butt he ravenously pounds against has much more padding than your plump yet toned rear. But you can't help but see yourself in her devilishly pretty face, in her inky raven hair, and especially in the enormous breasts that heavily swing to smack against her cushy stomach every time she humps back against the boy's straining cock.

Jesus, she's almost as big as you are.

Almost. You are absolutely certain of that. She's very nearly as big as you are, but you're still bigger.

It's that immediate self-assurance of your continuing boob superiority that allows you the clarity to piece it all together. This girl looks like you because she is related to you, because she is your cousin, because she is seriously fucking Jesse. Or more accurately she is Jessie, and she is getting seriously fucked.

Isabelle and Jenny are just as stunned as you are, and you might have simply stood there gawking as your gender-bent cousin got her brains fucked out of her if her former lackey hadn't suddenly noticed your presence. The boy yelps in surprise, panic crossing his face and body going totally stiff just as your cousin thrusts back as hard as she can and begins rolling her hips expertly. The football player's look of shock contorts into one of dreamy pleasure, bliss and alarm fighting for real estate on his face as his whole body shudders. Did he just-?

He must have, because the former Jesse now Jessie immediately gives a big gasp of displeasure in a shockingly girlish voice. "You fucking dummy! Did you cum already?!"

He stammers out something that is maybe an apology to her and maybe an apology to the three of you as he struggles to his feet, not even trying to gather up his clothes before stumbling out of the showers as quickly as he can. Jessie calls after him with a demanding whine, big boobs wobbling as she plops onto her cushioned rear and reaches out towards the fleeing boy. "Wait, come back! We can do butt stuff!"

You're realizing that you hadn't thought through what the actual results of your master plan would be. You're pretty sure that even if you had, you wouldn't have come up with this.