Transform into your sister-in-law, duh, too easy

You gotta get that tome. Make an excuse to get into the attic.

“I’m gonna get the lights out.”

Root around for way too long. Find the book. Take it out. Scurry to the bathroom.

You find the spell. You memorize it. Close your eyes, picture your big breasted sister-in-law, and say the spell aloud.

When you open your eyes your sister-in-law looks at you in the mirror. Or at least it’s what you think your brother’s wife looks like. It’s not quite right: like a photograph from the wrong angle. Her eyes are off. What color are her eyes again?

Stop looking at her eyes. Look at those big sweater puppies bulging under your shirt. Oh momma. This is exactly what you should be looking at.

You slide your hands up your sides to the massive curves. You cup yourself…that’s weird…your tits are rock solid. It’s like you’re feeling up a department store mannequin. You can’t even squeeze them.

You lift up your sweater. Your boobs are hard and smooth like a Barbie doll. They don’t even have nipples. Just globes attached to your chest.

What the fuck?

You stare at this strange image of your sister-in-law. It’s a hazy memory created from your thoughts.

You realize that you’ve never seen her tits—you can’t make them out of thin air. This spell only transforms you into what you think. You could try to imagine what they’d look like but they’ll probably look like cartoon titties. You don’t want a make believe version of her rack. You want to see what those knockers really look like. How they feel. How they swing.

The spell you found is pointless.

You read the dusty tome. Find a new spell that fits your need. Will really transform you into her. You find it!

You need DNA.

Looking like a weird version of your brother’s young new wife, you leave the bathroom to find some DNA. You roam down the hall. Where can you find DNA?

Hairbrush.

You sneak to her room. A brush lays right there like it was left for you. You hurry to it so fast, you forget to lock the door. You pick off a strand of her hair. (You double check to make sure it’s not your brother’s).

Shit. The transformation spell with DNA is so much longer. You keep messing up near the end. It’s fucking pissing you off.

Take a deep breath. Relax. Read it again. Take your time.

You breathe in deeply and close your eyes. You take it slow, you’re getting every word right. The bedroom door opens and closes.

Your little brother’s voice asks, “Babe what are you uttering over there? It sounds demonic.”

Concentrate. You’re so close.

His hips press against your ass. His hands slide up your sides. He thinks he’s about to get intimate with his wife. He doesn’t see your slightly off face, but his hands are about to discover your hard plastic boobs if they keep going up.

“The door’s locked, babe. Let’s have a little fun. A quickie before dinner is just what I need.”

Last line! Hurry before he gets to your mannequin tits!