A couple in their early 30's. Just about ready to start a family, the wife has a deep need to experience her teen years for a short period before doing so. So finds a spell on the dark web and asks her husband if he would revert to a teen for a week.

Chapter 2: Building Tension

At first, the idea sounded completely absurd. I chuckled nervously when my wife of 8 years, Heather, presented the notion to me one warm summer night. The idea of reverting to being a teenager, her precise words: "A teenage do-over, baby." She sat sprawled on the plush couch of our suburban home, bathed in the soft glow from the glass coffee table lamp, her long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her beautiful face.

She looked at me with expectant eyes and I could tell she'd put a lot of thought into this adolescent transformation idea, even though it seemed outrageous and why the hell not, downright crazy.

"Jack, pleeease. You know how much I want this. How much I need it. I feel like becoming a mom, it's gonna change me. I want to be those wild girls again. I need to feel like a teenager, not just feel what it was like, but actually be one."

I couldn't deny her at this point.

She'd managed to get her hands on something -I explicitly told her not to- this creepy spell book from the back of a musty, anomalous occult shop she discovered during one of her therapy retreats. She had the innocent gleam of a child who just found a shiny toy she'd been dreaming about for months. I closed my eyes and sighed in defeat, imagining this would be a lawyer's dream.

"You're gonna what? Turn into a 16-year-old? You're 32, Heather!" I rubbed my temples.

"Think of it as a gift, Jack. It's like experiencing a whole new life. Besides, you know you married an adventurous woman. And it's just for a week. Just a chance for you to recapture a bit of your youth, and me a chance to finally experience some of my own." I sighed, knowing how she had to take care of her alcoholic father and younger sister after her mother left. She never had the carefree adolescence that most of us get to enjoy. It's no wonder she wanted a chance to be a teenager again before we finally started our own family. And because of her tough teen years, I never could deny her anything that made her happy.

There was a spark, a thirst for excitement in her eyes as we turned the pages of the spellbook, the paper yellowed by time, the ink faded.

A little while later, there we were, amidst the disconcertingly serene atmosphere of our suburban home. Standing in front of the large, ornately framed mirror inside our bedroom, both in our pajamas. Heather cast the spell, her voice a low hum in the quiet room. The words seemed to skulk around the corners as the candles flickered, casting playful, dancing shadows.

We exchanged glances and, almost in unison, locked gazes with our reflection.

"Show us who you truly are, O Spell," Heather declared in a commanding voice. It was as if her words summoned the essence of the spell, setting forth a force that would reshape our reality.

Then, it began.

The transformation was achingly slow, like someone dragging their fingers down a chalkboard. My body itched, radiating with a pulsing energy that made my skin tingle. It proceeded very very slowly. Though at 32 I still think of myself as young, I could see years slowly starting to fade from my face. My well calloused hands seemed to soften. Then I felt something starting to shift. INSIDE. "Heather!" I cried out as I continued to watch my own reflection for the changes that were occurring. "Something isn't right. I can feel it changing.... changing something inside me."

"That's strange," I hear her say beside me. "I'm not feeling anything like that. Just watching the years slowly melt away. Although... I think my hair is becoming lighter, which is weird. I never had blonde hair."

With my eyes still locked onto my own image I watched as I slowly lost some height. "Oh, thank god. I think you just overshot the age regression. I think we're going pre-puberty. That was probably just my balls pulling back up inside. That's going to be weird. Guess there won't be any hanky panky this week," I say with relief.

We continue to watch the mirror, unable to turn away from the process unfolding before our eyes. I feel tingling sensations radiating from the deepest part of my core. I keep my gaze locked on my image. It's surreal watching yourself regress to a child. Hopefully we wouldn't end up too young. It would be hard to look after ourselves if we were much younger than.... say 7 or 8.

I watch as I continue to shrink. My once six foot three inch height is now diminished to what I would estimate as about five foot seven inches, and still shrinking. Then I hold my hands up in front of my eyes. I expected them to lose some of my manly strength, but they seem slimmer, more delicate than I can remember them ever being. I can it's hard to really remember what you looked like when you were young unless you're looking at pictures.

But there wasn't any time to look at pictures right now. We were preoccupied with our transformations. I glance over at Heather, who seemed to have stopped shrinking. Actually, she seemed to be getting bigger. In all the right places. She her a very pleasing athletic body. Hips not too wide nor too narrow. A fit waist, slightly thicker than most men would care for, though I though she was perfect. She had an above average ass. Neither too little nor too much 'junk in the trunk'. Her modest 'B' cups were still perky at the age of 30. She told me once she was a 34B-28-34. But looking at her now, I'd swear her breasts were bigger, her waist a little narrower, and her hips wider with a little more of a butt.

"Heather?" I queried, "if you're becoming a younger you, why are you getting.... curvier?"

"Honestly, I don't know," she replied, "but I like it!" she exclaimed and I could see a light in her eyes like I had never seen before. I turned my attention back to my own image. In the minute or so I had spent taking in Heather's changes, mine had progressed. I guess it's like they say, 'A watched pot never boils'. Now that I had been distracted, I could see noticeable changes.

My hair was down to my shoulders. "What the hell," I thought. I've never had long hair. My eyes looked different. My lips looked fuller. I didn't look like myself. And I was shorter still. "What the fuck is happening, Heather?" I demanded, my voice an octave higher than usual. "Oh my god!!" I exclaimed as realization dawned. I wasn't becoming my child self accidently. I was becoming a girl accidently! As though that realization was the permission my body was seeking for it's final transformation, I watched and felt as breasts began to form and swell, as hips began to widen, ass started filling out, arms, shoulders, legs all smoothed out losing muscle definition, my hair finally turning a pale blonde color and reaching to the small of my back.

The realization trembling on the tip of my tongue, my brain-no, my very existence-fracturing in two as I tried to process this new strange reality. I took in the whole of the transformation. Well, as well as I could in the ill-fitting pajamas I still wore. A beautiful though young face. Looking upon that face, I would say the girl was only 16 years of age, at best. However, even in the loose clothes I had on, it was apparent her figure was significantly more mature. Not just mature, but blessed. Blessed if you were female and wanted a figure that would draw the attention of every single heterosexual male eye fortunate enough to lay eyes upon her. A face of beauty, youth, and innocence. A body of curves, temptation, and sin.

"What the fuck, Heather?!" I shouted, my voice even higher than last time, stopping just short of the classic bimbo, but lacking any granularity to it. It was almost like a clear high note, struck once, then attenuated to form words with. I was about to turn to her and ask her what the fuck happened, but in that moment, the magic returned. I felt some relief, thinking that it was correcting it's mistake, but I didn't feel or see anything about my body changing. No, instead I watched as my pajamas began to alter.

The buttons of my shirt seemed to fade out of existence and the opening they once held together fused closed. The neck opening, that had slipped down my over my left shoulder a bit as it was now too wide for my narrow delicate shoulders to support on both sides, actually started to widen. The sleeves that had slipped past my hands as they withdrew due to my arms shortening, began to shrink and conform to my new girlishly slender arms. The sleeves didn't pull back as much as I expected, instead a hole formed on one side of the sleeved and I watched as it slipped over my thumb, leaving them riding more than halfway up my girlish hand, allowing my fingers to poke out from only the second knuckle up. The shirt shrunk. Drawing snug to my new, disturbingly large breasts, pulling up my waist until it stopped at my lowest rib, and the wide neck become an off the shoulder look, as the thin cotton material became something stretchy, clingy. molding itself to my upper body like a second skin. The upper slopes of my firm, large, supple breasts well displayed with a shocking amount of cleavage. Finally, the material changed from blue to white. I silently thanked... I don't know... for the small blessing of not turning pink. Until I realized that women's breasts always looked so fucking amazing in a snug fitting white top. And the new breasts that sat large upon my chest, looked fucking amazing.

Of course, the magic had no intention of stopping there. The pants that were now too long and too loose, managing to remain on my new body only thanks to my now ridiculously wide hips. I didn't want to watch. I feared what was about to happen. But it was like driving by a car wreck. You knew you shouldn't look, but you can't help yourself. And so, I watched. Watched the material shrink up my legs. I was torn between watching what became of my pants and the smooth, flawless legs that were beginning to show themselves. I watched the pants. Begging whoever, whatever, that they stop their climb. Whoever.. whatever.. ignores my pleas. Higher they climb, fusing at my new shapely mid-thigh into what is obviously now a skirt. And it climbed. It climbed and the material began to change until it was silk... and slid up my smooth shapely thighs further. The feeling of the silk sliding over my hairless thighs, much to my chagrin, sent a shiver of delight up my spine. Finally, the skirt stopped near the very tops of my thighs, before shrinking till it clung to my lower 'half', again, like a second skin. It rode high on my things and low on my hips, leaving a lot of midriff bare and a lot of leg bare. And those legs. Truly stunning legs almost universally belonged to tall women. While the legs I was looking it could not lay claim to being truly stunning, they were very captivating given my stature was now that of a 5 foot 4 inch tall girl.

Shocked. No one would expect me, a man, magically and accidently transformed into a ridiculously proportioned 16 year old girl dressed so provocatively, to be anything less than shocked. But the shock of the magic didn't end there. I finally found myself able to tear my eyes from the reflection in front of me and turned to ask my wife what the hell went wrong. And more importantly, to undo it. But when I turned, it wasn't my wife I saw. It wasn't a teenaged version of herself, that I saw. Instead, for a split second, I thought I was looking into a mirror again. Then, I finally found my voice. My new, high girlish voice, as I cried out, "Oh... my... GOD! We're fucking twins!"

I shrieked, my high-pitched girly voice reverberating around the room. "What the actual fuck, Heather? How is this even possible?" I couldn't believe my eyes. The mirror had shown me a shocking transformation. And now I find myself looking not at my wife, but instead and a sister. A twin sister. An identical twin sister to the image of myself I had just turned from in the mirror. Her youthful face was undeniably beautiful, her body luscious beyond what a girl of her years should possess, and dressed quite provocatively, stopping just short of being slutty. Well... I suppose that's a matter of personal opinion. But I looked upon and thought to myself, "Jesus fucking Christ, she's fucking hot." Then it hit me... I looked exactly like her! "Holy fucking shit, Heather!" I cried out. "We have to change back. This body... it's so fucking wrong... in so many ways. Jesus fucking Christ, Heather, we're fucking twins! People would think we're sisters, not husband and wife! Please tell me you have a spell to change us back!!"

My heart raced as I found myself in an unimaginable predicament. My mind reeled at the thought that I had been thrust into such a nightmarish scenario.

Heather's face bore an expression of disbelief mixed with terror, her eyes widening in shock at what had just transpired. She seemed unable to process the events unfolding around us. Her hands shook visibly, betraying her inner turmoil. It was evident that she too was frightened by our current predicament. In an attempt to regain some semblance of control over the situation, Heather tried to calm herself down. She muttered softly under her breath, "Okay, okay." Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she took a deep breath, filling her lungs with air. As she exhaled, her enormous chest expanded, then contracted again, gradually returning to its normal state. This action served as a means for her to collect her scattered thoughts and find a way forward amidst the chaos we found ourselves entangled in.

"Okay, okay," she said. "He it is. I'll have this fixed in just a moment."

"Thank fucking god," I squeaked out in my girl voice. Hating the sound of it nearly as much as the alien feelings of this damn body. How the fuck do women deal with bodies like this. I was sticking out in every direction. My hips stuck out to either side. My world class ass rounded out firm and shapely behind me. I knew that because I could see it on my wife when she had turned away to go through the book. Of course, there was one part of me that wasn't sticking out that I longed to regain. I realized that in a way, I had taking my manhood for granted. I mean... I had always had it. I knew it. I was accustomed to it. To the point, the only time I really noticed it was when I was ploughing my wife. But now I was acutely aware of that most defining of appendages' absence between my thighs.

This would sound crazy to any man, but that honestly wasn't the worst. None of that is the worst. The worst was the very large pair of breasts on my chest that rose and fell with every breath. They stood out so large and firm, that even looking straight ahead, they made their presence known in my peripheral vision. But hell, I didn't have to see them to know they were there. The weight of them was unlike anything I could compare them too. And the feeling.... my nipples... so sensitive and so far off of my chest. Jesus fucking Christ, this entire body was wrong. I loved women. I respected women. Never had I once wondered or imagined what it would be like to be a woman... a girl. If I had, my imagination would have completely failed. I honestly didn't feel human. I suddenly thought of that book, "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus". I know nothing about that book, but here in this body, I felt like men and women were basically different species who just happened to be sexually compatible and able to reproduce viable offspring together. Nothing felt the same. Nothing felt right.

My wife began reciting the spell that would rescue us from this nightmare. I turned my attention back to the mirror, seeing that young, hot, fucking piece of ass and mentally waved good-bye to her. "Nice to see you, not sorry you have to go" I thought to myself. In a moment Heather had finished reciting the spell and I watched, anxiously waiting for those large breasts to shrink and flatten once again into a manly, muscular, slightly hairy chest. Height, muscles, cock... I looked for it all to come back. A minute passed. I didn't see anything. I didn't feel anything. My heart began to beat faster as fear began to creep into my consciousness and into my heart and soul. Two more minutes later an nothing. I nervously looked over at Heather's reflection. Nothing there either. Panicked, I looked into her eyes and begged, "Try again, Heather. Try again!"

I pleaded, desperation creeping into my voice as I looked into my wife's eyes, searching for any hint of certainty. She looked back at me, tears threatening to spill over at any second. She took a deep breath and began to chant the spell once again, each word trembling with uncertainty.

"Sanetur vos, antiquam formam cogite reddere, ne quid uno tempore tertius novum discretio persona!" she chanted.

She spoke with more conviction this time, her voice radiating with hope.

As she uttered the final word, she looked at me, and I could feel her anticipation building.

However, as the echoes of the spell faded away, I found myself still standing in front of the mirror, as the identical teenage bombshells we had become. It became apparent that the spell was not working as we had planned.

"Shit! The spell didn't work!" I angrily exclaimed, throwing my hands up in the air. I could feel the panic starting to set in as I began pacing back and forth, my girlish hips swinging from side to side. My lower arms contacting my wide hips as they swung in the normal fashion I was used to. Confused, I held up my arms and looked into the mirror. I noticed just how narrow my shoulders had really become. I looked down at my new hips. They were so wide. I lowered my arms and found them in front of my wide hips. Fuck! My hips were wider than my shoulders. Walking as I normally would as a man was causing my lowering arms to crashed into my hips with each swing of my arms and each sway of my generous, curvy hips.

This realization sent my thoughts spiraling as I pondered whether my gait should change as well. I shook my head and stopped my pacing, taking a deep breath to stabilize myself, realizing that the worries about my changed body could wait for now.

Heather and I stared at each other, the disillusion hanging heavily in the air between us. I looked at her, and I knew she was feeling the same torment I was experiencing. An swell of guilt threatened to overtake me as I observed her sitting on the edge of the bed, her head drooping with disappointment.

I understood that she was feeling remorseful and helpless, but I couldn't help but feel betrayed and angry. I attempted to compartmentalize my emotions, knowing that there would be time to process them later. For now, I needed to focus on finding a solution to our present dilemma.

I approached her cautiously, taking a seat next to her on the bed. I placed a reassuring arm around her small shoulders, trying to convey a sense of security and calmness that I didn't genuinely feel. "We need to hold off on the stomach-churning regret for a minute.

We have to figure out what went wrong and how to fix it," I suggested, trying to sound level-headed and in control, despite feeling like I was coming apart at the seams.

"You're right," Heather agreed, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. "We have to think this through." She paused for a moment, then reached for the spell book on the nightstand. "Let's see if we missed anything." As Heather leafed through the pages, I couldn't help but take a moment to appreciate her appearance. I loved my wife. Dearly. But if this spell had left me a 16 year old boy, myself or otherwise, I'd be fucking the shit out of this hot piece of teenage pussy sitting beside me. "Fuck," I thought, "how many guys would think the same if they saw me right now. Ridiculous curves put on display in a near scandalously short skirt wrapped tightly about my hips and upper thighs. My white top, while not constrictingly tight, was of some really stretchy material that left it molded to my upper body. Well, the part that it actually covered. From my girlish ribs to just an inch or so above my new much more sensitive nipples, my creamy, delicate, narrow shoulders left bare. Everything about this body and this outfit were inviting. I turned my eyes from my wife's body, hating that I could explore it the way I wanted to, like a man. Hating that I knew, I was currently her identical twin. Identical in body and dress. Fuck my life. Heather better figure this out fast.

Because now, after seeing my wife dressed up like a teenage slut, in the body of a teenage slut, I feel my arousal begin to stir. How the fuck am I in a 16 year old girl's body, feeling myself become aroused... as a fucking chick! I thought I had felt all the wrongness of this body. Ironically, I was wrong. I felt my nipples stiffen and as I looked in the mirror, I saw them poking out very noticeably, if not obscenely, from the peaks of my breasts and making clear and obvious dents in my white top. "Fuck, fuck, fuck.... that's so wrong!" I thought. But if that was wrong, even worse was continuing to start at those stiff nipples on this big firm tits, and feeling the new slit between my thighs begin to moisten... to slicken.

I looked at myself in the mirror, seeing the image of a girl with rock-hard nipples visible under her sheer white top, perky and standing at full attention. I couldn't help but reach up and touch them, just to see what they felt like. As I brushed my fingers against the sensitive buds, I let out a soft gasp, feeling a jolt of pleasure shoot through me. The sensation caught me off guard, and I immediately withdrew my hand, ashamed of my actions.

"Jack," Heather said, calling me out of the unwanted, disgusting trance I had fallen into. "I don't know why the spell went wrong to begin with, but I have figured out why the counter spell didn't change us back."

"Oh, thank god," I offered. "So when can we change back?" I asked, hoping she would say immediately. But at this point, I wasn't going to get my hopes too high. If we had to wait 24 hours... well.... I'd hate it, but I could manage it.

"Jack," she said with sorrow clear in her beautiful high girly voice, a near identical sound to the voice that issued from my own mouth. "I missed a part of the instructions. They were on the next page. I... I was just so excited to try it out."

I didn't like where this was going. Not in the least. "Ok... so?" I left the question hanging out there.

"Jack," she said as tears began to form in her eyes. That's really not a good sign. "The spell isn't a spell. It's a curse."

"Ok, but curses can be broken, right?" I inquired hopefully.

"Yes, but not with a counter spell." she informed me. "A curse is the most powerful of spells. So powerful, no spell can undo them. But magic always needs a way to be altered and changed. So curses have a condition woven into them that gives the cursed individual a chance to undue the curse. Like the story of "Sleeping Beauty" you remember?"

"Yeah, ok... ok. So that means we can break the curse." I breathed with some relief, once again noting how that caused my large breasts to rise and fall. "How do we do that?"

"Jack, that's just it," she said. "The only way to break the curse... is... is to fall in love with a man and then...to kill him!" she finished with tears running down her beautiful face. I understood the tears. She had just told me that we were stuck like this, forever.

I could feel my insides twisting in knots as I tried to process her words. But my mind kept circling back to the same thought: how could I live the rest of my life as a teenage girl?

"Heather, I can't do this," I said, my voice cracking with emotion. "I can't be a girl forever. I'm a man! I have a business, a life, a family! I can't just throw that all away."

Heather looked at me with tears in her eyes. "I know, Jack," she whispered.

"I didn't mean for this to happen. I wanted to try out the spell just for fun, but I didn't realize it was a curse. And now we're trapped in these bodies forever, unless we can break the curse.'"

"We have to try," I said. "But how can we fall in love with a man, when we already love each other?

And how can we kill someone, when we've never hurt anyone in our lives?" I asked, my voice shaking with anger and frustration.

"We can't, Jack." she answered. "We're not like that. That's not who were are. And we EACH have to fall in love and kill a man. I can fall in love with a man. I've done that once already," she said as she looked at me. "But I could never kill him. That would be like asking me to kill you just so I could be myself again. And for you... for you it's even worse. I don't believe you can kill someone either, no matter what. But I'm absolutely certain you can't let yourself fall in love with a man."

I looked into her eyes and knew that everything she said was true. Which meant, despite my conviction that we would find a way to change back, there really was no hope. Not now, not ever. Hot teenage girls for life. God... worse than that. I couldn't even seek solace in my loving wife's embrace. We were no longer man and wife. We were identical twins sisters. My wife was my sister now.

My stomach lurched and roiled. I scampered my way into the en suite, trying not to notice the jiggle of my firm tits, the way my overly wide hips moved, the absence of an appendage between my legs. I crashed into the bathroom vanity and began to vomit into the sink. A chick. For life. Forever? Guys checking.. checking me.. "rrrrrppph..." as I vomited again at the thought.

I gripped the edge of the porcelain sink, my knuckles turning white. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. I couldn't believe I was a teenager again, stuck in this twisted, curvy, sensual teenage body. Why had I thought this was a good idea? Why had Heather? I heard the door creak open behind me, but I didn't turn around. I couldn't bear to look at her, my own twin sister now.

"Jack, are you okay?" she asked, her voice gentle and concerned.

"No," I said truthfully. "Not even a little bit" and I looked up into the mirror above the sink and saw the pain etched on that gorgeous young face, and tears began to stream down.

"Jack, I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I thought... I don't know what I thought. I just wanted to try something fun, something exciting, something that would help me feel move on and embrace motherhood. I didn't think it would completely overwrite our lives like this." She leaned against the doorjamb, her arms crossed below her breasts, pushing their large mass up higher and increasing the bulge of breast flesh that had already been well displayed. And if I took that same posture, I would like exactly the same. I bent over the sink and heaved again, nothing coming up but stomach bile.

I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand and turned to face my wife, my sister. She looked so vulnerable and lost, her eyes filled with tears, her bottom lip trembling. I couldn't help myself. I walked over to her and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close to me. We stood there, clinging to each other, both lost and scared, neither knowing what to do next. I desperately tried not to focus on the feeling my large breasts pressing into my wife's.... no.... sister's equally large breasts. That feeling was so wrong. No.... every feeling was so wrong. We go about our daily lives everyday, noting who is and who isn't a man or woman, but how many of actual think about how a man's and woman's body feel different from one another? Beyond the obvious of course. But now... I could feel them. All of them. It became overwhelming and I began to not just cry, but bawl. Bawl in a manner I probably hadn't done since I was a baby. I cried. All those alien feelings... I knew somehow they would never go away. I would never embrace this body.

Or this life. I was done. I had my fill of this. I took a step away from Heather, my sister now, wiping the tears away and trying to regain my composure. "I need a drink" I thought to myself. "Definitely a drink." I began to walk out of the bathroom, but Heather stopped me.

"Jack, wait," she said. "We can't just fall apart like this. We need to figure out a way to fix this."

I turned to face her, and I could see the determination in her eyes. I shook my head.

"How?" I asked. "How can we fix this? We're trapped in these bodies, and there's no way out."

Heather looked at me, a pained expression on her face. She opened her mouth to say something but then closed it again. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she gathered her thoughts. "I don't know how, Jack. We might have to live with this for the rest of our lives."

The thought of living the rest of my life as a teenage girl, stuck in this body, was overwhelming.

I couldn't bear the thought of my wife, my partner, my love, seeing me like this. I couldn't fathom the idea of her touch, her embrace, her love, being tainted by the revulsion and disgust I felt towards myself. I couldn't bear the thought of being intimate with her, of touching her, of pleasuring her, while feeling like a fraud, a fake, a grotesque imposter. The very thought of it made my stomach churn and my heart ache.

I couldn't bear the thought of this new reality, and I felt a fresh wave of tears threaten to spill over.

"Heather," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I can live with this."

Heather looked at me, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Jack, what are you saying?" she looked at me stricken. "Are you saying that... you're going to ... kill yourself?"

If I said that thought hadn't crossed my mind, I'd be a liar. But that thought had been quickly dismissed. And seeing the stricken, fearful look in my wife's.... goddam it.... my sister's eyes, I knew that I would never take my own life. If I did, I'd be taking two lives, not one. I could never to that to my wife... sister... whatever.

"No, Heather," I replied. "I could never do that to myself. I could never do that to you. If I'm being honest, I really don't know what I mean. It's all too much right now. I'm overwhelmed. I'm lost. I... need to get some sleep.... somehow. I'll just have to take it one day at a time, I suppose.

I turned to my sister, my wife, and took a deep breath. "I need some air," I said. "I'm going for a walk."

"Jack," she pulled back on my arm to turn me around, "dressed like that?" she asked. I looked down. That was dumb. I could just look at my.... sister and I'd know what she was talking about. This body, dressed as it was, was screaming for attention. Go out like this? I didn't like that idea. Peeling these clothes off and seeing even more of this body... maybe ALL of this body? Right now that wasn't acceptable. "It's almost dark. I can't bring myself to see any more of this body. I just need to get some air. I'll be ok, I promise, ok?" She nodded tearily.

I walked out to the front door where I went to grab some shoes. I gasped in shock as I looked at the shoe rack by the door. Heels. All of them. Nothing lower than what looked to be about 4 inches. "Are you fucking KIDDING me!" I screamed out.

"Jack, Jack!" my sister came running out of the bedroom. " What is it? Are you all right?"

"Heather, look at the shoe rack!" I said. And as she looked, I looked back and noticed something I hadn't at first. Every pair of shoes there had a matching pair. Presumably so Heather and I could dress identically, right down to our shoes.

The rational part of my brain knew that the curse had created these details as well - the matching outfits and shoes, the long blonde hair - to further solidify our appearances as identical teenagers. The other part of my sought some tangible enemy who I could exact my revenge on. But there was none. Just a mistake and a curse. Could happen to anyone, right? I let out a growl. Or tried to. It was more of a goddamned girlish squeak of frustration as I went over and grabbed a damn pair of shoes. I didn't even pay attention to what I grabbed, until I had them on my feet. Pink... probably four and a half inch stilettoes. Fuck it. Fuck it all. I had to get out. I needed air and space. I needed to clear my mind. Yeah, like that was going to happen.

I slammed the door behind me and stomped down the front stairs, balancing precariously on my new heels. I had barely made it to the end of our driveway before I heard a voice calling after me.

"Jack, wait!" It was Heather, of course. I could hear the worry and concern in her voice as she hurried to catch up with me.

"What?" I snapped, turning to face her.

I knew I sounded short, but I couldn't help it. I just needed some space to clear my head.

Heather stopped in front of me, looking up at me with those big blue eyes of hers. I could see the worry etched into her face. "I just... I want to make sure you're okay," she said.

I sighed, running a hand through my long blonde hair. "I'm fine," I lied. I wasn't fine. I was far from fine. But I didn't want to burden Heather with my emotions.

"Jack," she started, "don't lie to me. That's something we promised each other we would never do."

"You're wrong, Heather," I told her. "That was a promise made between Heather and Jack. That's clearly not us any longer. We're fucking sisters now." I turned and walked down the sidewalk, heels clicking, hips and ass swaying, my arms swinging in a arc around my wide hips adding even more femininity to my gait. I hated it, but I needed to get away and think.

I heard Heather behind me, following me down the sidewalk, trying to apologize and make things right. I continued to walk, my hips swaying back and forth in my tight little skirt and my boobs jiggling slightly with every step I took. It was infuriating. I hated this new body. It wasn't just feminine, it was obscene.

"Jack, please stop and talk to me," Heather pleaded for the ... I don't know how many times. But I guess it was the one that did the trick as I stopped, took a large breath, my large tits rising up with the inhalation, then falling as I let it out. Let out the breath and enough of the anger that had me ignoring my former loving wife.

I turned and faced her, eye to eye, cause... duh... "What is it, Heather?" I asked her in defeat.

"Jack, please," she began. "Let's go home and talk. You're angry. Angry at the universe. Angry at the curse. Angry at me."

"No, Heather, that's not..."

"You are, Jack!" she interrupted. "And you have every right to be. In all those cases. But you're not appreciating the situation."

"Not appreciating the situation?!" I replied, perhaps a bit more vociferously than I intended. "Well, let me run it down. You cast a spell to make us teenage versions of ourselves. Only it wasn't a spell, it was a curse. One we'll never be able to break. And instead of turning us into teenage versions of ourselves, which alone would have been awkward to be stuck as... Instead, it made you a 16 year old girl with a knockout body and put you in a very alluring outfit. Oh... and me? Well me, it made me your identical twin. Do I appreciate the situation enough for you?" I said, with a bit of venom leaking into my tone.

"No, Jack. You're not," she said slipping into psychotherapy mode. "You're angry, as I've said. But you're expressing that anger as a man would."

"That's because I am a man, Heather!" I nearly screamed, "Despite appearances to the contrary, I am a man. How else am I supposed to act? Girly? Should we have a cry together? We've done that. Share a tub of ice cream and talk about our troubles? Tell me, Heather, how should a man magically transformed into a 16 year old wet dream and told there's no turning back, should act!", I finished, exhausting all my anger and I felt myself deflate. If only my fucking tits would deflate.

"Jack, I understand your anger and the way you're expressing it. Again, it's typical male behavior. And no, I'm not telling you you need to be a girly girl. But look at where your anger has lead you, and now look at how you're dressed. How we're both dressed. I know you don't want to hear it, but you're a girl right now. One who will get a lot of attention. One who could find herself in trouble. You're not a big strong man who can protect himself any longer. Out here, alone, the sun almost down... you're potential prey and you have to be aware of that."

I looked at Heather, her words sinking in. "Shit," I muttered. "You're right."

She took my hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Come on, let's go home. We can talk more there."

As we walked back to our house, I couldn't help but feel a sense of shame and embarrassment. I had let my anger and frustration get the best of me, and I had acted foolishly without thinking. I had let myself become a target, a vulnerable teenage girl, exposed and at risk.

It was a harsh reality check, and one that brought me back to the present moment. I realized that if I was going to survive in this new body, I needed to start... what? Start thinking like a girl? I wasn't. Not inside where it counted. I was sure I could never think 'like a girl'. So what then? Act like a girl? Behave like a girl? I didn't want to BE a girl. I don't care that physically I AM a girl. But Heather was right. I had to be more aware of the people and situations around me, as related to this new body. And I had definitely fucked up, coming out here in these sexy clothes with my long blonde hair flowing behind me, my heels click-clacking on the sidewalk, hips and ass swaying like a Florida palm tree in a thunderstorm, and oversized tits jiggling like a large a pair of large firm jello molds.

As we entered our house, Heather suggested we get changed out of our uncomfortable clothing and into something more comfortable. We went to our bedroom to find something to wear. Heather went to her dresser and I went to mine. I opened up the drawer that contained my t-shirts only for my eyes to get wide in shock. Inside my drawer, not a single t-shit could be seen. But what was there were plenty of bras and panties. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I started picking out item after item, examining what I saw. So many colors, so many fabrics, so many styles. Suddenly, the thought occurred to me and I grabbed a bra and checked the tag. "34DDD". "Fuck," I said aloud.

"Jack? What is it," came heather's inquiry.

"All my t-shirts are gone. It's full of.. full of bras and panties. And the bras say.... fuck... '34DDD' on them."

"I'm sorry, Jack." Heather replied. "But you knew we were big g... that we were big up top." I appreciated her cutting off the word girls. I really didn't want to hear that word used in casual conversation involving me, just yet. Ever.

Chapter excerpt truncated at the edge.