Chapter 10: Baby Making Time!
"Hey babe!" instantly flooding Vanessa's senses with warmth and silencing Vance's terrified plea mid-thought. A bright, flirty giggle bubbled from her lips, "Max! You caught me at the perfect time... I've been really hoping you'd come over tonight, but I guess you were a bit to tired. But I want you to know that I dug out ole purple monster for tonight. Im gonna imagine its you."
The line went silent for a beat, then Max’s deep chuckle rumbled through the phone, vibrating against Vanessa’s ear. "Purple monster, huh? Guess I gotta step up my game tomorrow. You free?" His voice held that lazy confidence, the sound utterly alien to the consciousness of Vance, screaming silently within the confines of Vanessa’s skull. Vance clawed at the fading memory of Molly’s soft sigh, but it dissolved like smoke, replaced by the vivid, visceral image of Max’s powerful body pinning her down, the scent of his sweat and leather jacket overwhelming.
"Always free for you, big guy," Vanessa purred, twisting a strand of her dark hair – Molly’s dark hair – around a finger she barely recognized as her own. The green streak caught the dim light. "The park? Around ten? Less crowded then." Below her apartment window, the Halloween party’s thumping bass was a distant, irrelevant throb, drowned out by the pounding of her own borrowed heart. Vance’s frantic internal protests were a gnat buzzing against glass, easily ignored.
"Done," Max grunted, the sound final. "See you at the bench near the big oak." He ended the call without ceremony. Vanessa tossed the phone onto the transformed leather recliner, its cracked surface cool under her palm. She traced her new jawline, sharper, unfamiliar, yet thrumming with the phantom memory of Max’s rough kiss. Vance’s terror spiked, a last desperate surge – Molly! The plan! Avoid the moon! – before being ruthlessly smothered by Vanessa’s eager anticipation. She stretched, feeling the new, slightly longer muscles pull, a predatory smile touching lips that once belonged to Molly. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.
Morning light, sharp and autumnal, cut through the park’s thinning canopy, dappling the path in gold and shadow. Vanessa arrived first, perched on the weathered wooden bench beneath the sprawling oak Max mentioned. She wore dark jeans and a soft grey sweater that hugged the new contours of her body, the green streak in her hair vivid against the crisp air. The scent of damp earth, decaying leaves, and distant chimney smoke filled her lungs. She watched joggers pass, couples stroll, kids shriek on the distant playground – a world utterly unaware of the body-snatching horror sitting in its midst. Inside, Vance was a numb, hollow ache, buried deep beneath layers of Vanessa’s confident ownership. He could only observe through her eyes as Max approached.
He moved with an easy, rolling gait, shoulders broad beneath a worn denim jacket open over a plain black tee. His jaw, squared and shadowed with dark stubble, was set in a familiar, self-assured line. The stiff set of his shoulders, the way his transformed hands hung loosely at his sides – all screamed Max. He spotted her, and a slow, possessive grin spread across his face. "Hey, Trouble," he called, his voice carrying easily on the cool breeze, deep and resonant. It triggered a visceral cascade within Vanessa – heat pooling low, a remembered pressure, a phantom taste of his skin. Vance flinched.
"Took you long enough," Vanessa teased back, standing as he reached the bench. She tilted her head up, meeting the dark brown eyes that had replaced Molly’s sharp green. The casual intimacy felt terrifyingly natural. He leaned in, not for a kiss, but to brush his lips against her temple, the scrape of stubble sending an electric shiver down her spine – Vanessa's spine. His scent, musky and clean, enveloped her: leather, cheap soap, and something uniquely, undeniably him.
"Had to fuel up," he murmured against her skin, his breath warm. "Gotta keep my strength." The double entendre hung thick in the air. He straightened, his gaze sweeping over her with open appreciation that felt both alien and deeply satisfying. "Lookin' good, Ness." He sank onto the bench, the wood groaning slightly under his weight, and patted the space beside him. "Sit. Sun feels good."
Vanessa settled back down, their thighs pressing together through the layers of denim and cotton. A comfortable silence settled between them, filled only by the rustle of leaves and distant laughter. Vance, trapped deep within, screamed into the void where Molly used to be. No! This is wrong! We were Vance and Molly! We won a stupid contest! But the memories of the costume victory, the frantic preparations to avoid the moon, were distant, gauzy things, overlaid and replaced by dozens of imagined arguments in dive bars, shared beers, and tangled nights in Max’s sparse, transformed apartment. Vanessa rested her head briefly on Max’s shoulder, the solidity of him a grounding anchor in this stolen existence. The warmth of the sun, the press of his body, felt utterly right.
After a while, Max stretched, his massive shoulder bumping hers. He looked out across the park, watching a squirrel scramble up the oak’s trunk, his expression turning thoughtful, uncharacteristically serious. He scratched his stubbled jaw, the rasp loud in the quiet. "Been thinkin', Ness," he started, his voice losing its usual lazy edge. "About that thing. Y'know. The kid thing."
Vanessa went very still beside him. Not tense, but utterly focused. She lifted her head from his shoulder, turning to look directly at his profile. The sunlight caught the hard line of his cheekbone, the unfamiliar planes of the face that had once been Vance’s. "Yeah?" Her voice was soft, carefully neutral. Inside, Vance recoiled. Kid thing? What kid thing? What is he talking about?
Max turned to face her fully now, his dark eyes intense, searching hers. The casual arrogance was tempered by something else – a raw, almost vulnerable determination. "We keep goin' round in circles on it. Months now." He shifted on the bench, his large hand coming to rest on her knee, the weight solid, claiming. "I want it, Vanessa. I really do. With you." He paused, the air thick between them. "I know you got shit figured out, pills and all. But... maybe it's time? We ain't gettin' younger. We make scary smart kids, you and me."
Vanessa stared at him. The park sounds faded – the distant shouts, the rustling leaves, the chirping birds. Her gaze dropped to his hand on her knee, the broad knuckles, the dusting of dark hair. Vance’s internal screaming reached a fever pitch, a wordless howl of denial. Molly never wanted kids yet! We talked about grad school! Travel! This isn't us! But Vanessa’s mind presented only Max’s memories: heated debates over lukewarm pizza in his apartment, her own (Vanessa’s) arguments about freedom and her blossoming career, his stubborn insistence, the simmering tension it always created. The silence stretched, taut as a wire.
Then Vanessa let out a slow breath she hadn't realized she was holding. A small, almost imperceptible shift happened in her posture, a softening around her eyes that had once been Molly’s. Her hand came up and covered his where it rested on her knee. Her fingers, longer, stronger than Molly’s remembered, laced through his. "Okay," she said, the word quiet but decisive, carrying the weight of a vow. "Okay, Max. Let’s do it. Let’s have a baby."
A grin split Max’s face, transforming it completely – pure, unadulterated triumph. Relief flooded his eyes, followed instantly by a surge of possessive heat that Vance recognized with chilling clarity. "Yeah?" Max breathed, his voice thick.
"Yeah," Vanessa confirmed, a matching heat igniting in her own stolen gaze. The decision, the acceptance, felt like a lock clicking shut, sealing away Vance and Molly’s world forever. "Yeah."
Max didn't need more invitation. That look, that single word, was all it took. He surged forward, his hand slipping from her knee to the back of her neck, pulling her in. His mouth crashed down on hers, rough, urgent, claiming. Vanessa met him with equal fervor, her arms wrapping around his broad back, fingers digging into the denim of his jacket. The kiss was deep, hungry, a prelude. Vance’s consciousness was submerged, drowning in the overwhelming sensory onslaught – the taste of Max (coffee and something faintly metallic), the scrape of his jaw, the sheer physical power radiating from him, the terrifying rightness of Vanessa’s response.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Max’s eyes were dark with need. "Not waiting," he growled, the words vibrating against her lips. He scanned the immediate area with predatory focus. The park was relatively quiet, the nearest walking path momentarily deserted. His gaze locked onto a dense thicket of rhododendrons and mature evergreens, about twenty yards off the main path, promising deep shadow and seclusion. "There." He jerked his head towards the thicket, already rising, pulling her up with him. His grip on her hand was iron, leaving no room for hesitation. Not that Vanessa offered any. A slow, knowing smile touched her lips, anticipation coiling tight in her belly – Vanessa’s belly.
They moved swiftly off the path, feet crunching on fallen leaves, ducking under low branches. The air grew cooler, damper inside the green gloom of the thicket. Sunlight filtered weakly through the dense canopy above, casting shifting patterns on the mossy ground. The sounds of the park became muffled, distant. They pushed deeper, until they found a small, relatively clear space, hidden on all sides by a wall of dark green leaves and twisted branches. It felt like a separate world, primal and secret.
Max turned, pressing Vanessa back against the thick, rough bark of a massive oak. His body crowded hers instantly, radiating heat and intent. He kissed her again, deeper, more demanding, one hand tangling in her hair, the other sliding under her sweater, skimming the waistband of her jeans. "Gotta feel you," he murmured against her mouth, his voice thick.
Vanessa arched into him, her hands already working the buckle of his belt with a practiced urgency that felt entirely hers. "Then feel me, Max," she breathed, her voice husky, alien. The button popped, the zipper rasped down. The cold air hit his exposed skin for a second before her hand slid inside, closing around the hard, unfamiliar heat of him. Vance’s last coherent thought – a fragmented image of Molly’s smile, the smell of her hot chocolate – shattered completely under the wave of Vanessa’s overwhelming desire and the shocking, visceral reality of Max filling her hand. Max groaned, low and guttural, bucking into her touch, his own hands urgent on the button of her jeans. The leafy enclosure filled with the sounds of rustling fabric, harsh breaths, and the single, sharp intake of air as Vanessa pushed his jeans and boxers down over his hips, freeing him fully. He kicked them off his ankles, his need obliterating everything else. Her jeans and panties followed in a frantic tangle, shoved down just enough. Max lifted her slightly, her back rough against the bark, and in one powerful, claiming thrust, he was inside her.
Vanessa cried out, a sound of pure, sharp pleasure that echoed Vance’s silent scream into oblivion. Her legs wrapped around Max’s waist, locking behind his back, pulling him deeper. He moved with a primal, driving rhythm, each powerful thrust slamming her against the unyielding tree, the sharp edges of bark biting into her skin through the thin sweater. The air filled with the sounds of their union – the slick, rhythmic slap of flesh, Max’s ragged grunts punctuating each drive, Vanessa’s bitten-off moans escalating into sharp, keening cries. Her fingernails raked down his back, scoring the worn cotton of his t-shirt and the skin beneath. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, biting down just hard enough to make her gasp and writhe against him.
"Gonna put my baby in you, Ness," he growled against her sweat-dampened skin, the words thick, desperate, possessive. "Right here. Right fucking now." His thrusts became harder, faster, losing any semblance of rhythm in pure, driving need. "Say it."
Vanessa’s head thrashed against the tree trunk. "Yes! Max! Yes!" she gasped, the words ripped from her, her voice high, breaking. "Do it! Give it to me! Give me your baby!" The affirmation, the sheer animalistic surrender in her voice, was the final nail in the coffin of the people they had been. She came first, her body clamping down around him in violent, pulsing waves, a scream tearing from her throat that mingled with the distant cry of a crow. The intensity triggered Max’s own climax. He gave a final, guttural roar, muffled against her shoulder, driving deep and holding himself there, shuddering, emptying himself inside her with relentless pulses. He slumped against her, his massive frame trembling, their harsh breaths the only sound in the suddenly still thicket, the damp earth scent mingling with the primal musk of sex. His final words, gasped against her skin, were thick with satisfaction, sealing their terrible pact: "Yeah."
Vanessa's hands digging into the dirt as Max still grabbing her hips and penis still inside her.
"You know Vanessa. I dont think it settled. Luckily I got another in thr chamber if your raring to go" Max said as he slowly pushed into her and out. With a slow rhythm.
Vanessa gasped, the single syllable dissolving into a shuddering moan as Max withdrew almost completely, then surged back in with deliberate, grinding force. Her fingers scrabbled against the damp, leafy earth, finding no purchase. He held her hips immobile, pinning her against the rough bark of the oak, each slow, deep thrust a seismic event in her borrowed body. "Feel that?" he rasped, his breath hot and ragged against the side of her neck where his teeth had marked her moments before. "Deep. Where it counts."
She could only nod frantically, a choked "Uh-huh!" escaping her as he filled her again, the stretch intense, overwhelming. Her body clenched around him instinctively, a desperate, involuntary pull. Vance, a fading ghost in the neural pathways, recoiled at the foreign sensation of being utterly penetrated, possessed, while Vanessa’s consciousness surged, reveling in the fullness, the claiming. "M-Max… oh god… yes," she stuttered, the words breaking on a high note as he hit a spot that sent white sparks across her vision. Her head fell back, thumping lightly against the rough bark. The cool air smelled of crushed ferns, damp soil, and their own sharp, animal sweat.
"Gotta be sure," Max grunted, his rhythm unchanging, relentless. "Deep roots. Takes hold." His grip on her hips tightened, fingers digging into the soft flesh above her jeans. He watched her face, her eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, breath hitching with every inward push. "Look at me, Ness." The command was low, rough. She forced her eyes open, meeting his dark, possessive gaze. He thrust hard, holding deep. "See me when I plant it." The raw possessiveness in his voice, the heat in his eyes, ignited something primal in Vanessa, a fervent echo to his claim. Vance’s silent scream was a distant whimper, drowned.
Suddenly, Max shifted. In one fluid, powerful motion, he withdrew and flipped her. Vanessa cried out, a sound of startled need, as the world tilted. Her back hit the cool, yielding bed of moss and decaying leaves beneath the dense rhododendrons. Before she could register the chill, Max was over her, his massive frame blotting out the weak sunlight filtering through the canopy. He pressed down, lowering his body like a shield, his broad chest flattening her breasts against the soft fabric of her sweater, the sudden pressure robbing her of breath. His face hovered inches above hers, eyes locked on hers. "Stay low," he ordered, his voice a guttural whisper. "Quiet now." His hips settled between her thighs, nudging them wider. He found her entrance again, slick and ready, and sank back into her molten heat with a single, slow, devastating stroke.
Vanessa’s gasp was strangled, cut off as the air was pressed from her lungs by his weight. The position was confining, profoundly intimate. He filled her completely, deeper than before, pinned by his own body pressing hers into the earth. Every slight shift of his hips ground against her clit, sending electric jolts up her spine. He began to move. Not the frantic, claiming pace from before, but a slow, deliberate rocking. Deep, measured pumps that stretched and filled her with unbearable friction. Each deliberate withdrawal was an exquisite ache; each return, a punch of pure sensation that stole her breath.
"O-oh! M-M-Max! F-feels…" Her voice was a thin, breathy whine, stuttering with every inward thrust. Her hands found his back, fingers clutching the worn denim of his jacket, then sliding beneath to claw at the sweat-damp cotton of his t-shirt. His weight pinned her arms slightly, adding to the helpless intensity. She could feel the powerful muscles of his back working, the heat radiating off him, the scrape of his jeans against her bare thighs. His chest pressed relentlessly against her breasts, the friction igniting a secondary fire. "S-so… deep! Oh! G-god!" Each word fractured as his hips rolled forward, grinding the base of him against her sensitive flesh.
Max watched her unravel beneath him, his gaze dark and predatory. He kept the pace agonizingly slow, prolonging the friction, the exquisite torture. Her breath hitched and caught with every penetration, little punched-out gasps and moans escaping her trembling lips. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown black, fixed on his face as if he were the only anchor in a storm of sensation. "That’s it," he murmured, his own voice thick with strain. "Take it. Take it all deep, Ness." He lowered his head, his lips brushing her ear. "My baby’s gonna take root right there. Feel it?" He punctuated the question with a slow, grinding circle of his hips, maximizing the pressure.
She whimpered, a high, desperate sound. "Y-yes! F-feel… feel you! Oh! P-please!" Her hips tried to lift, seeking more friction, but his weight held her down, forcing her to accept only what he gave. The slow, relentless pistoning was building an unbearable tension, coiling tighter with each measured stroke. Her body trembled violently beneath his, trapped between the unyielding ground and his solid mass. Her moans became a continuous, breathy litany: "Ah! Ah! M-Max! Ah! T-there! Oh! G-gonna… oh!" Her back arched as much as his weight allowed, a silent plea for release.
He felt her inner muscles beginning to flutter wildly around him, a frantic prelude. He increased the pressure slightly, driving just a fraction harder, just a fraction deeper with each thrust, maintaining the torturous pace. Her breath hitched, caught, then released in a ragged, escalating cry that she desperately tried to stifle by biting her lower lip. Her eyes squeezed shut, face contorted in ecstatic agony. "Let it go, baby," he grunted, his own control fraying. "C'mon. Take it. Take my kid." He pistoned into her once, twice more, hard and deep.
Vanessa shattered. A silent scream ripped through her, her body locking rigid beneath him, back arched impossibly despite his weight. Her inner walls clamped down on him in violent, rhythmic spasms, milking him. Her breath escaped in sharp, staccato gasps: "Ah! Ah! Ah! Oh! G-god!" The waves pulsed through her, leaving her shaking, utterly spent, pinned beneath him on the cold forest floor. He held himself deep, buried to the hilt as she convulsed, riding out her climax with low, possessive growls rumbling in his chest. Only when the tremors subsided into weak shivers did he allow his own release, a final, guttural groan muffled against the damp moss beside her head as he pulsed deep inside the warm, clenching depths he’d claimed. He collapsed his full weight onto her for a moment, the heavy press of his chest the only sound their harsh, mingled breaths in the hidden green silence.
Then, as if he weighed nothing at all, he shifted, propping himself up on his elbows so that he could see her face. His lips, swollen and glistening, found hers in a soft, tender kiss. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, seeking entry, and she opened to him, their mouths meeting in a slow, languid dance. A low moan escaped her, a sound of raw satisfaction and exhausted contentment. Her fingers, still clawed into his back, now stroked lazy patterns against his damp shirt. "Oh, Max," she whispered against his mouth, a smile tugging at her lips. "That was incredible. I hope we have a son as handsome and strong as you."
Max grinned, a slow, lazy curve of his mouth that transformed his features. He dipped his head, nuzzling her temple, his breath hot and damp against her skin.
"And I hope we have a daughter as beautiful and smart as you, Vanessa," he whispered back, the words a low, husky promise. His lips curved in a slow, satisfied smile against her cheek. "By the way, Vanessa." He paused, his voice dropping to a low, almost reverent murmur. "But you're so damn hot that I think I can keep going if you want."
Vanessa laughed softly, her body still shuddering with the aftershocks of her climax. She pushed her face into the crook of his neck, her lips brushing the rough stubble of his jaw. "Max," she protested, the word muffled. "You're insatiable." But the protest was half-hearted, her own body already beginning to stir with renewed desire. "If you can go again. Let me take the lead this time." Vanessa's voice was a throaty purr, her hands already pushing at his chest, urging him to roll onto his back. Max complied, a lazy, contented smile on his lips, his eyes heavy-lidded with post-coital satisfaction. He settled onto the soft bed of moss and leaves, his long frame stretching out in the hidden grove, unfazed by the damp earth beneath him. Vanessa straddled him, her knees sinking slightly into the mulch, her eyes locked onto his with a feral intensity that both thrilled and frightened the remnants of Vance’s consciousness.
The golden morning light dappled her body, the deep green of her hair contrasting starkly against the paler skin of her chest and arms exposed by the rolled-up sleeves of her sweater. She dragged her fingernails down Max’s chest, leaving faint red trails in their wake, a primal marking of her territory. The sight sent a shiver of primal arousal through Max, and he could see the echo of her satisfaction in the slow, sensual curve of her lips.
“You like that, don’t you, Max?” she purred, her voice a low, sultry timbre that Vanessa had never used before
Vance's consciousness starting to meld with Vanessa's. Her movements becoming his. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word, echoed with Vanessa’s memories, not Vance’s. But was there even a Vance to begin with? After all, her past memories were all of Vanessa. The thought sent a chill down Vance’s spine – the last vestiges of his own consciousness flickering like a dying ember. As Vanessa leaned down, her lips brushing Max’s jaw, she whispered, “Remember when we first met? In that little dive bar downtown?”
Max’s eyes fluttered shut, a momentary frown creasing his brow as he searched his memory. “Vanessa…” he began, his voice tinged with uncertainty. But then recognition dawned, and his features relaxed into a smile, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer. “Yeah, I remember."
This was weird because, in Vance’s old memories, Molly and him have always been friends, but these new fabricated lies, made it seem like they met in college. Or did they because that memory from Vance faded leaving this new fabricated one.
It was raining outside, and you were huddled in the corner with that old book you always carried. You looked so… mysterious, all wrapped up in that tattered coat. I couldn’t help but stare.” Max’s voice was soft, almost dreamlike as he recalled the memory.
Vanessa chuckled, a low, throaty sound that vibrated in her chest. She settled more comfortably on Max’s hips, her hands tracing the hard lines of his chest through his shirt. "I remember that coat. It was my grandma’s. I always felt like it had a story to tell, you know? Eeeemmmmm. Eehhh. I can feel you getting close Max. Just hold on a little longer. Im almost there too.
Ive been waiting for this all night, Max. All night. Vanessas voice was a low, sultry whisper, her breath warm and damp against his skin. Her hips began to move in a slow, deliberate rhythm, grinding against him, teasing. Her fingers traced the edge of his jaw, the rough stubble of his beard, before sliding down to the buttons of his shirt. She applied just enough pressure to make the first one pop open, revealing a patch of tanned skin and the dark hair that trailed down his chest.
Max’s eyes were closed, a low groan rumbling in his chest. And Vance almost a fickle memory. The second she cums its all over.
The climax ripping through her like a wildfire, her muscles convulsing violently around him as if trying to milk him dry. Max responds instantly, driving deeper, his own climax triggered by her shuddering release. He thrusts into her with a force that shoves her back into the mulch, the roots and old leaves digging into her skin, but she doesn't care. She's too lost in the sensations rocketing through her body, the pleasure that feels like it's burning her alive.
She bites down on his shoulder to muffle her scream as he pulses inside her, hot jets of liquid heat filling her, marking her as his.
Her body clenches around him, milking every last drop, until they're both spent and shaking. She collapses onto his chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. Max wraps his arms around her, holding her close as their breathing slowly returns to normal.
As the world comes back into focus, Vanessa feels the soft give of damp earth beneath her cheek, the rough scrape of Max's shirt against her skin. She lifts her head to look at him, her hair falling in a dark curtain around them. His eyes are closed, a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
He was soft, but still inside her. Uncontrollably, Vanessa's vagina kept undulating. Like it was drawing all Max had to offer. Weirdly felt good to both of them, but didn't make Max hard. Just felt good.
They rested there for hours, just letting the world go by.
Over the next few over the next few days Max and Vanessa kept having sex and trying to get Vanessa pregnant. Due to Ophelia's curse. And Thaddeus's curse only had a few more hours. She had a few tests ready and waiting to see if any of it took.
However, at the stroke of Midnight, a shift started to happen. Vanessa and Max were reverting back into Molly and Vance. Looks like they didn't get pregnant this time.
Vance's and Molly's memories came flooding back. Sharing space inside their heads with new fabricated lies that were Vanessa's and Max’s. They practically had two sets of memories, both feel real, but hard to decipher. It was torture sometimes. The two had one month before the next full moon and they need to plan for it. Weirdly enough their physical rooms reverted back to Vance's and Molly's rooms, but they still had a mix of clothing from both of them.
Molly and Vance looked at each other in the mirror after showering and dressing, after the ordeal with Max and Vanessa the day before. Molly's skin still had faint red marks where Vanessa had scratched him with her nails.
Molly cupped her hands over her face, taking a deep breath. “How did we end up like this, Vance?” she asked, her voice muffled by her hands. She hadn’t called him Vance in a long time, but it felt right now. She dropped her hands and looked at him in the mirror, her green eyes searching his. "Mol, I have no idea what we're going to do. You were there. Both Vanessa and Max wanted a baby. I had no control over stopping it either. We are very fortunate that I didn't get pregnant during that 72 hours." Vance said cupping his chest. As if he had breasts still. He then blushes. "Oh right. Im back to being Vance. All of my memories, make me want to message my breasts after a shower. But those are Vanessa's" he said.
Molly's eyes widened slightly at the admission, her gaze flickering briefly to her own chest, still covered by Vance's sweater. She took a step back, her expression growing serious. "We can't keep going like this, Vance. We need to figure out how to break this curse, or at least how to control it. We can't just keep... doing this." She waved a hand vaguely between them, a hint of disgust in her voice. "It's not us, not really. Do.... do you think we should find Thaddeus and Ophelia, and ask them to remove it?"
"Are you nuts. They are so unhinged, that they might just transform us permanently on the spot. They inflicted this curse on us for winning a damn costume contest. That we weren't even trying to ruin for them. We're victims of circumstance." Vance sighed, running a hand through his hair, watching the strands fall back into disarray. Molly could see the internal debate raging behind his eyes, the struggle between desperation and fear. She knew he was right, that finding Thaddeus and Ophelia was akin to poking a sleeping bear with a stick. But they had to try something. They couldn't keep living like this, trapped in a never-ending cycle of unwanted transformations and stolen memories.
Molly wrapped her arms around herself, the chill from the bathroom tiles seeping into her bones. She couldn't shake the feeling of wrongness, like her body was no longer her own. "So, we just live with it?"
"No. Im sure there's a way to break this curse. Right. There has to be." Vance said rubbing his temples . "Curses can be broken. I have to believe that. I’m a scientist, damn it!" He paused. "No. Vanessa's the scientist. I work. I... I.. im not the one attending classes. Thats you Molly. Oh man. I can't tell whats reel or not anymore." Vance's voice was ragged, the emotions of the last few days raw and exposed. He leaned against the closed bathroom door, his gaze flickering over the familiar room. The shower curtain, damp and mildewed, hung limply from its rod. The towels in the corner were threadbare and faded, the tub's porcelain chipped. It was his and Molly's bathroom, but it felt foreign, like he was seeing it through a haze.
Molly stood by the sink, her reflection staring back at her in the cracked mirror.
She wrung her hands, her eyes distant as she mulled over a possibility that had just occurred to her. "Um, Vance," she began, her voice soft yet determined, "if only the full moon is when we transform and you have a higher chance of getting pregnant, what if I were to get pregnant before the full moon? Would I remain Molly?" She looked up at him, her green eyes searching for any hint of a solution in his gaze.
Vance turned to face her, his brow furrowed in thought. "Maybe, but what about me? I'd probably still turn into Vanessa." He paced the small bathroom, his steps echoing in the tiled room. " But Then again, if it was just me transformed, maybe the baby would act Like a shield of some sort." He rubbed the back of his neck, his mind racing with the implications. "What i mean is i would have any possibility of getting pregnant if there's no Max to impregnate me. Right?" Molly shook her head, her face pale beneath her dark curls. "No, that's... that's not acceptable. I don't want to risk losing you, Vance. Not again. And what about the kid? How would we explain that to them? 'Hey, kid, your dad is a girl sometimes and your mom might turn into a guy on the full moon. No big deal.' It's not fair to bring a child into this mess." She pressed her lips together, her eyes watering as she struggled to hold back tears.
Vance crossed the bathroom, his movements slow and deliberate. He reached for Molly, cupping her face in his hands. "But what if it breaks the curse for you entirely. Thats a bet I'd gamble on. Even if I turn into Vanessa once a month. It'll only be three days a month. Sometimes twice a month. You know, on a blue moon month." The words hung between them, fragile and desperate, like a lifeline thrown into a stormy sea. Molly's eyes were wide and glassy, her lower lip trembling. She was reaching, grasping at any semblance of a solution, no matter how risky.
Vance's thumbs brushed away the tears that had begun to spill down her cheeks, his own eyes reflecting the torment in hers. He could see the logic in her words, the glimmer of a possibility that could end this nightmare. But the uncertainty, the fear, the sheer unpredictability of it all gnawed at him.
"Are you saying that you'd want to have a child with me Vance?" Molly teared up.
"You know what. Wait right here for a second." Vance ran to his room and returned shortly after. "Thank God it was one of the things that changed in my room" he said with a hand behind his back. "I wanted to do this at the right time Molls, but I think this is as good as any. "I don't just want kids with Molls, but I want to be more." He cupped her face and kneeled down in front of her.
"Look at me, Molly. Look at me right now. Look at the eyes you’ve known since we were kids. Look at the face that has always been there for you, through everything. I love you, Molly. With every fiber of my being. With every memory that is mine and every memory that is not. I love you, even when I’m someone else. I love you so much that if having a child with you could break this curse, if it could give us back our lives, then yes. A thousand times yes. I want that with you, Molly. I want everything with you."
He reached behind his back, pulling out a small, velvet box from his pocket.
The ring inside sparkled in the harsh bathroom fluorescents, a brilliant, fiery red gemstone set in a simple, silver band. "Molly, will you marry me?"
Molly's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening in shock. Her breath hitched, and she stumbled back a step, her gaze flitting between Vance's hopeful, earnest face and the ring in his hand. She shook her head, as if to clear it, her eyes filling with tears again. "Vance, I... I don't know what to say."
Vance rose to his feet, his expression never wavering. "Say yes Molly" he whispered, his voice barely audible. He reached for her hands, entwining his fingers with hers, the velvet box still clutched between them. The air in the small bathroom seemed to thicken, the fluorescent lights flickering faintly, casting a dancing, ethereal glow on Molly's pale face.
She looked down at the ring, her fingers trembling slightly as she traced the edge of the band. The stone caught the light, sending tiny, shimmering reflections dancing across the white tiles. It was beautiful, unlike anything she had ever seen. "Vance..." she started, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I-I love you too.
More than words can ever express," Molly whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart in her chest. Her hand reached up, tracing the line of his jaw, his stubble rough against her fingertips. She could feel the tension in him, the fear and hope coiled tight in his body like a spring ready to snap. She took a deep, shuddering breath, her eyes never leaving his. "Yes, Vance. Yes, I'll marry you."
A slow smile spread across Vance's face, lighting up his eyes with a warmth that was nothing short of radiant. He leaned in for a kiss, setting the ring box on the counter, and slid his hands under her thighs. Vance then hoisted her up and pinned her to the wall.
Molly wrapped her legs around his hips instinctively. Their mouths met in a fiery kiss, a promise, a declaration of love that transcended the curse that held them hostage. The ring box tumbled to the floor, forgotten, as their bodies pressed together, heat and urgency igniting a blaze between them.
Their clothing was a barrier, an unwanted obstacle. Vance's hands roamed urgently over Molly's body, seeking the familiar curves he knew so well, the curves that had changed so drastically in the past few days. He fumbled with the belt of her jeans, the buttons and zippers, his breath coming in ragged gasps against her mouth.
She wriggled beneath him, her own hands tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers. They tumbled to the floor, the cool tiles a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies entwined. Vance's hands roamed over her, tracing the familiar curves of her body with a possessive hunger. Molly's lips trailed kisses down his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. They moved together with a desperation born of fear and uncertainty, a frantic need to prove that they were still themselves, still whole. Their bodies danced in the dim light of the bathroom, a symphony of sighs and whispered endearments, a testament to their love and determination.
But as Vance entered her, he felt an unfamiliar twinge of discomfort, a strange hollowness that sent a wave of confusion crashing over him. It felt good still, just different. He continued to fuck Molly, who was a screamer when she gets fucked.
Her moans and cries becoming louder. Her toes curled, her back arched, and her hips ground against him, seeking more friction, more of him. Vance could feel her inner walls clenching around him, milking him, urging him deeper, harder. He felt his own climax building, a coil of tension low in his belly, spreading through his body like wildfire. He panted against her neck, his breath hot and desperate, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips. "F-fuck, Molly," he grunted, his voice raw with need. "You're so close, baby. C'mon, let go with me. Let's go together."
He redoubled his efforts, his hips pistoning into her with a fierce, driving rhythm, chasing the elusive peak that hovered just out of reach.
Molly's nails dug into his back, her body arching off the cold tile floor as she met his thrusts with a desperation that matched his own. "Vance!" she cried out, her voice hoarse and urgent, her hips urging him deeper, harder, faster. She was so close, the edge of the precipice within reach, and she wanted him to fall with her.
But as their bodies convulsed together, the explosive release they chased remained just out of reach. Vance felt his orgasm building, a coil of tension low in his belly, but as he approached the edge, it vanished, leaving him aching and empty. He continued to thrust into her, his body demanding satisfaction, he wants to bust inside her so bad. Hes on the verge. By now Molly came twice, and he was still pumping. Molly leaned up to kiss him, accidentally brushing his left nipple as she does this, causing Vance to vum instantly. But unbeknownst to either of them. Vance no longer produces seman. So Molly will never get pregnant. A special Curse Ophelia snuck into her original one.
In the quiet moments that followed their failed attempt at passion, Vance and Molly lay entwined on the cool bathroom floor, their bodies slick with sweat and their hearts still pounding wildly in their chests. The harsh fluorescent light above them flickered briefly, casting strange, elongated shadows across the tiled walls before settling back into its steady hum. The air was thick with the scent of sex and the faint, lingering traces of their desperate lovemaking.
Molly’s head rested on Vance’s shoulder, her breath coming in soft, ragged gasps that matched the rhythm of his own.
His arms were wrapped tightly around her, holding her close as if to reassure himself that she was still there, still real. The bathroom floor was hard and unyielding beneath them, the cool tiles a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies. The faint scent of their lovemaking hung in the air, a melancholic reminder of their failure.
Vance’s hand traced slow, lazy patterns on Molly’s back, her skin slick with sweat and damp with tears. The velvet box lay forgotten and askew on the bathroom floor, the beautiful ring inside a bitter reminder of the curse that had shattered their world.