Jennifer Park, Spell-Curious

You give the bottle of magical milk that you and Jenny produced an idle swirl, watching it curiously sparkle and shimmer as your friend continues gawking at herself in her dresser mirror. She keeps hefting her newly large bust, still staring down in shock at the amount of tan cleavage that blossoms out of the neckline of her form-fitting polo. Look, you get it! Gaining two cup-sizes in as many minutes isn't exactly normal. And in all fairness, it might actually be a bit stranger for her than it was for you. Your Breast Experience up until this point has mostly involved them growing in some fashion, while she's had hers for years without any reason to expect them suddenly being magical. Still though, the two of you have way too much crazy stuff to get through for this to be a roadblock. Also, you're starting to get bored.

She finally speaks, carefully wobbling her newly prominent chest. "So this is real? Permanent?."

You nod, holding the bottle up to the light. Ooo, that made a rainbow! "I think so. That is, I don't have a reason to suspect otherwise."

"So how do I explain these?" She points to her swaying boobs, unnecessarily you might add. You could have pieced together that mystery.

"Who says you need to? Check out that photo of us at the beach."

That finally draws her attention to something else. She picks up the framed picture and sure enough, while the Ash in the photo is the same busty and incongruously beach-going goth girl she had been ten minutes ago, the Jenny in the photo fills out her bandeau top much better. Jenny runs a thumb over the laughing, busty her in the photo, a far-off look in her eyes. "Wow."

You nod in agreement. "Yes. Very much wow."

"You knew that, um, that I'd had some work done before...right?"

Whoa, really? You shake your head 'no', letting that reveal sink in. So Jennifer Park's tasteful C-Cups had been man-made? "When?"

"Right after Sophomore year. Like, literally the first day of Summer break. I wasn't actually in Europe for two months; I was just lying around the house recuperating and Googling all the places I had to pretend I was visiting." Her lips twist sardonically. "Mom made such a big deal out of it. Said that I finally looked like a woman."

You can't keep yourself from making a face. "That's such bullshit."

Jenny shrugs, reaching up to carefully squish her boobs again. "It's alright; I got over it. And I guess it didn't really matter? Because these are very natural."

"Jenny. Your breasts are quite literally unnatural now."

Your friend gives a dramatic sigh, finally releasing her boobs to pop her hands to her hips and amiably roll her eyes at you. "Are bullshit semantics part of being a witch?"

You pop up with a grin, throwing an arm around Jenny's shoulder. "Nope! I'm just fucking unbearable."

The two of you share a laugh at that, Jenny giving you a light elbow to the side that catches as much tit as it does anything else. She pauses as she catches a glimpse of the two of you in the mirror, her substantial bust pressed up against your own. "Wow."

"Face it, Jenny: You're one of the big girls, now."

Your friend's smile grows a bit at that, then abruptly shifts to a frown. "I'll bet you anything Mom wants me to get a reduction."

You raise the bottle of milk at that, waggling your eyebrows as you give it a little shake. "Why don't we change her mind, then?"

A few days ago, you absolutely would have been blown away by the Park household. Every square inch of Jennifer's place seems to have been curated to project taste and wealth anywhere the eyes happen to land. You managed to catch a glimpse of an electrical socket at one point, and it was the classiest goddamn electrical socket you've ever seen. If you had somehow managed to have made it into this house during your previous life, maybe through a bizarrely specific Make-a-Wish wish, you would have been entirely sold on the fact that the Parks were living the dream.

But now you aren't so easily dazzled by displays of wealth, and all you can think about is how unsettling this place is. Because while having every square inch of your house perfectly presented sounds impressive in theory, in practice this place is like being inside a weird dollhouse or something. You find your shoulders tensing up as Jenny leads you from one pristine room to another, and before long you're almost **** to spot a dust bunny or a stray sock or anything. Jenny's room might be the only place in the whole house where a functional human being could relax. As it is, you're increasingly convinced if you accidentally scuffed the floor a laser will drop from the ceiling, vaporize you and then immediately vacuum up the dust.

It's possible. You don't know what rich people get up to. If magic is real, lasers could absolutely be real.

You follow your friend into an immaculate kitchen, so pristine that you'd bet even money that no one has ever considered being so gauche as to cook something in here. The only sign you aren't the first living beings to walk these tiles period is the Park Family Christmas card propped up in its own little stand on the counter. Jesus, that has to be the first Christmas Card you've ever seen made of three separate portraits instead of a group shot. And did they even take those photos for the card specifically? You're pretty sure that's Jenny's yearbook photo, and the incredibly stern man that must be Mr Park looks like he's sitting for a building ID badge. Jenny's mom looks amazing in hers, naturally, but seeing as she's at least twenty years too young it's clearly a remastered photo from her beauty pageant days. This shit is goddamn dire.

The fact that Jenny has managed to navigate this existential nightmare without turning into a gibbering wreck is astonishing. If you had ever questioned what had forged her into the razor-edged steel she is today, here's your fuckin' answer. She might have come out of all of this as well as she possibly could, but with any luck the two of you can make the path forward a bit smoother. "So what's the plan to get them to drink it?"

Jenny scoffs at that, setting down the two highball glasses she'd pulled down. "That won't be a problem. It's been almost an hour."

"Uh, an hour since what?"

Jenny holds up a finger, asking you to wait while she pulls her phone out of her pocket. She stares down at the screen for few moments, tapping her foot impatiently. Then she 'tsk's in something between smugness and resignation as it begins to buzz, flipping it around to show you new messages from MOM and DAD. "Since they last texted me to bring them drinks." Jesus. That explains the irritated break Jenny took halfway through your viewing of The Craft. Drinks Duty must have been her chore for a long time now, because she barely looks at the bottles as she begins mixing something. "Frankly I'm surprised; Dad wants his every hour on the hour, but usually Mom's lizard brain would have woken her up when it sensed a drop in her blood-**** level. She's getting soft in her old age." She blows an annoyed raspberry at her tragic Christmas card, finishing each drink off with half of your milk.

It's really that easy? "Just like that?"

Rolling her eyes, Jenny plops a single ice cube into one of the glasses. "Dad will clink the 'one and only one' ice cube against the glass first. Mom'll drink anything you put in her hand. Here, you take this one to her and I'll bring the other to Dad's study." She slides one of the magical cocktails towards you before turning to head back off into the house. She turns at the last moment. "Oh, and Ash?"

"Yes?"

"If this ends up being poison, and this is some sort of **** plot or something, I am going to be pretty annoyed at you."

You have to grin at that. "Understood."

She gives you a serious nod, raises the magically spiked cocktail in a salute, then disappears into the bowels of her cavernous home. Well then. Guess you'd better do your part. You pick up the glass of mystical cream, careful not to spill as you make your way out the front door.

...Okay, fucking for real, has Jenny's mom moved at all the entire time you've been here? The older woman is still sprawled out on her lounge chair in precisely the same way she was when you arrived. Maybe Jenny's mom is a mannequin, like in that movie Mannequin. Though you doubt it; from what Jenny has explained about her relationship with her parents, being raised by a vaguely woman shaped hunk of wood in nice clothing would have definitely been a healthier childhood.

Well then, there's nothing left to do besides going for it. "Um! Hello, Mrs Park!"

No response.

"It's me! Jenny's friend?"

Somehow even less of a response.

"...I, um...I brought your drink?"

At that, you finally received proof that Mrs Park is capable of movement at all, the woman languidly lifting a finger to lower her huge sunglasses. She stares at you for a long moment, slightly bloodshot hazel eyes focusing through a six-drink haze. "......you're the Price girl."

Oh my god, she does remember! "Yes!"

Your brief, rather nonsensical elation at Mrs Park's ability to remember part of your name dies as she pointedly lowers her gaze to your chest. "The one with the tits."

You blink, mouth agape. "Uh..."

Mrs Park 'pfft's, pushing her sunglasses up as she settles back into her chair, motioning impatiently with her hand. "Close your mouth, I'm not some half-erect bouncer you're trying to convince to let you into a rave. Just give me my drink."

In what might be the single greatest moment of self-control in your entire life, you slowly close your mouth and carefully slip the drink between Mrs Park's questing fingers. Then you turn on your heels and march back to the house at a clip just barely below a sprint. You aren't sure if you want to get back to Jenny, or if you're going to whirl back around and launch yourself teeth first at her mother, but whichever one you decide on you want to get a goddamn head of steam on first.

The decision is made for you by the loud clattering that sounds at your back, Jenny's mom bolting upright in her chair so quickly at her first sip of milk that her sunglasses are knocked from her face to shatter against the ground. You wait for the smash cut to white that came when your mom had her encounter with magic, but it never comes as Mrs Park guzzles the enchanted drink as best she can between throaty moans. Well this was fucking unexpected.

By the time you decide to just slowly back up into the house and regroup with Jenny, her mother has writhed completely out of her seat as she desperately licks the inside of the empty glass, vainly searching for some forgotten last drop. Is this still fine? Maybe this is still fine.

God, if this winds up being an accidental **** plot Jenny is going to be so annoyed with you.