Wanting Tracey is what started you down this path. She's your target.

As the class is wrapping up, you make your decision — you want Tracey. Now you just need to figure out how to get her hair.

You start jamming you stuff into your backpack when there’s still a few minutes left in class, so you can jump up as soon as it’s over. That gets you a disapproving look from Ms. Fellows. You smirk to yourself as you think about how you could make her into a ****, too. Then she wouldn’t look at you anyway but worshipfully.

That's not what you’re focused on now, though. When the bell rings, you get up and move up between the classroom desks. You glance down at the seat where Tracey had just been sitting, scanning for any stray hairs.

You don’t see any at first glance. You look up to see if anyone is watching you. It would look weird if anyone noticed you inspecting Tracey’s seat too closely and grabbing a strand of her hair. You don’t want a reputation as a creepy stalker. OK, based on your plans for Tracey, you are one, but you don’t want that reputation.

You notice Ms. Fellows trying to catch your eye. She asks, “Dave, do you have a moment to talk about your work on your essays?”

Tracey is out the door already, and probably at her locker getting packed up to leave for the day. She almost certainly has a hairbrush in her locker. If worse comes to worst, once you know which locker is hers, you can bust into it. The school lockers aren’t exactly high security. But you need to follow her now, or she’ll be gone, you won’t know which locker is hers, and you’ll have to wait another day.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Fellows, I can’t miss the bus today. Can it wait until my study hall tomorrow?” You rush out the door, almost jogging.

You catch sight of Tracy walking around the corner, talking with a petite black girl. You shoulder through the crowd of students bustling through the hallway at the end of the day. You catch sight of them standing in front of one of the rows of lockers. Damn, the other girl is opening one. It’s not Tracey’s locker.

As you’re walking towards them, you come up with a lie that you desperately hope will work. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. You can hear your pulse pounding in your ears and feel the heat of a blush on your cheeks. Fuck! You can do magic and control women’s minds, and you’re still nervous and shy about talking to girls.

As you approach, you clear your throat and try to speak clearly. “Hey… Tracey… Can I ask you something? It’s just a little favor I need… for a science project.” You smile at her, then the shorter girl. “Maybe you could help me too.” You add, trying to make it sound like you’re not too interested in just Tracey. “Oh, I’m Dave, by the way.” You remember to introduce yourself.

The girls exchange a look. They are clearly bothered by the intrusion, but also a little amused by your bumbling. Tracey gives you an uncertain nod. “What is it you need?” she asks.

“Well,” you hesitate for moment, “it's a report on how different hair cross sections result in how curly hair is. When I saw you two together, I thought your hair would show a great contrast. I’d just need one strand of hair from each of you.” You point to your own head. “Mine is kind of wavey, so it shows the mid-point.”

The black girl raises her eyebrows and looks like she’s about to get angry. Fuck, was talking about her hair racist? Tracey lets out a quiet laugh though. “Sure Dave, anything for science, right?” She puts her hand lightly on the other girl’s arm to hold her back and rolls her eyes slightly. It looks like she’s trying to let her friend know that you’re harmless. The other girl keeps quiet, but stares angrily at you.

You heave a sigh of relief. “Thanks. It’s a big help.”

Tracey plucks a single hair from her head and holds it out to you. You realize that you don’t have an envelope or anything to put it in. That doesn’t look good, if you were supposed to be doing this for a science project. “Oh… ahhh… just a second…” You drop your backpack, grab a notebook and tear out a sheet of paper and fold it in half to hold the hair. She lays it in the paper and you fold it up. Part of you wants to just rush away, get home, and cast the spell before anything can go wrong. You remember that you asked for the other girl’s hair too, even though she didn’t look like she wanted to help you in any way. You look at her hesitantly.

“Come on, Leah.” Tracey says sounding like she’s a little amused by your request and Leah’s angry reaction to it. Tracy reaches over and tugs a strand of hair from the smaller girl’s head.

“Hey!” Leah scowls, “I didn’t agree to this.”

Tracey sighs. “Come on, he asked nicely.” She leans down closer to Leah. “I’ll do something you want to make it up to you.” Leah looks a little mollified and doesn’t protest anymore.

You tear out another piece of paper for Leah’s strand of hair. You fold both pieces of paper up tight and put them carefully in a pocket of your backpack.

“Thanks again. This is great.” You say, with a genuine smile to Tracey. You nod at Leah. Then turn and leave.

As you walk away, you can just make out what they are saying.

“What was that bullshit about our hair being different?” Leah growls.

“He didn’t mean anything by it. He’s a little weird, but he’s really as nerdy as he seems.” Tracey laughs. “I’ve never seen him say two words to any girl. He must really just want our hair for a science project.”

You want to get home and cast the spell as soon as you can. You’ll show Tracey how weird you are. As you hurry to catch your bus, it occurs to you that you could cast the spell on Leah, too, now you have her hair. Teach her a lesson for being a bitch. The idea makes you smile, but you’re concentrating on Tracey for now.

You’re thinking so much about Tracey becoming your ****, it slips your mind that there’s already a woman who’s enchanted by you. You are reminded with a shock when you walk in the house and your mom is in the living room waiting for you in a short, low-cut dress.

She jumps up and rushes over to you as you step inside. “Welcome home, honey. How was school?” she hugs you tightly, pressing her full, soft breasts against your body. “I left work early. I couldn’t concentrate. I needed to make sure you’re ok, after… what we talked about yesterday.” She speaks without letting go, keeping you in her tight, warm embrace. Her cheek nuzzles against your chest. “Are you ok? Have you… been thinking about it? I want you to know you can talk to me about it. Anything you want to say. Anything. I won’t be shocked... no matter how inappropriate you think your feelings might be. You can tell me how you feel. I want to hear it. We’ll work out what it all means together… somehow.” Her body shimmies slightly against you.