A Force Of Habit
By Jessica Drew
Originally Posted On Fictionmania
Chapter 16
"Mikayla honey... I.... I need you to listen."
A five-year old Mikayla Simmons looked up at her mother's soft face as she hurriedly entered Mikayla's bedroom, closing the door shut behind her. She was so beautiful, Mikayla thought to herself, but why did she look so sad?
"Mommy will be going away soon... and she.... she might not be coming back."
Mikayla looked up at her mother.
"Why are you crying Mommy?"
"It doesn't matter.... Mikayla.... I... I've got something for you."
Mikayla watched as her mother produced a small dusty old box from behind her back. She watched inquizitively as she carefully opened it. Mikayla looked inside and gasped.
"It's pretty," Mikayla cooed as she admired the smooth polished stone resting in the box amongst several layers of screwed up paper. As she reached her tiny hand towards it, she was surprised to find it begin to glow with a soft red light. Before she could touch it, her mother snapped the lid back onto the box.
"It's yours honey." Her mother smiled briefly, stroking her hand over Mikayla's long brunette hair. "But listen, you can't tell Daddy. It will just be our little secret okay?"
"Okay."
Mikayla cradled the dusty box in her small arms. She liked the idea of
having a secret. It seemed like fun.
Both mother and daughter were suddenly startled by a booming yell coming from downstairs.
"HEATHER!!! WHERE ARE YOU?!"
Daddy could be really loud sometimes, Mikayla thought to herself. It scared her. She looked up at her mother as she stood upright, smoothing her short dress. She turned, about to leave when Mikayla spoke in her small innocent voice.
"Mommy, what is this for?" Mikayla held out the box in her hands.
Her mother lent down level with her daughter once more, clasping her cheeks with her warm hands.
"One day you'll know how to use it.... I...I love you..."
Mikayla felt her mother plant a soft kiss on her forehead before standing up once more, giving one final longing glance at Mikayla before leaving. The door clicked shut behind her.
Mikayla sat back onto the edge of her bed, her short legs swinging as she held her new gift in her small hands. She could hear the shouting coming from downstairs. It was nothing new. But at one point she heard her mother screaming extra, extra loud, and then it stopped. She never did hear her Mommy and Daddy arguing again after that.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Aaaaahhhh!!" Mikayla cried out as she woke from her nightmare, gasping, her body covered in sweat. She looked around her, frightened, remembering that she was still shut in the basement. She huddled into a corner, sniffling, the soft glow from the only lightbulb casting long shadows around the dark cold room.
She'd had the dream before. Yet it was more than a dream, it was a memory. The only memory she had of her mother. Mikayla rubbed at her cold arms. This time the dream was so much more intense, so much more vivid. It was like it had happened yesterday. There was so much detail, from the clothes that her mother was wearing, to the pink decorated walls of her childhood bedroom. She remembered her mother's screams from downstairs and how they had suddenly been silenced. Oh god, what had happened to her? Mikayla felt tears welling in her eyes.
Mikayla stood up, pacing up and down trying to warm her body up. She glanced up. The sun was beginning to rise. She could see the first golden rays beginning to shine through the small basement windows that ran along the top of the far wall.
As the dark basement began to illuminate with a soft golden glow, Mikayla caught sight of something. No, it couldn't be! She walked over to a pile of old dusty boxes in the corner, and sure enough, perched on top was a smaller more familiar box.
She picked it up, running her hands around it. It was the very same box her mother had given her all those years ago. It was the box that had contained the transformation stone.
Mikayla's thought back. She had kept the stone a secret, just as her mother had told her to for all these years. As a young girl she had marvelled at the way it seemed to glow a beautiful red colour when she touched it. Then there was that one day. As she ran it through her small hands, she had been shocked to witness the dying flowers in the corner of her bedroom burst into bloom, exploding in a rainbow of colour. That was when she first realised that the stone had magical properties.
As the years went by she had experimented more with it, finding she could transform objects, even small animals, by simply picturing in her mind's eye the nature of the transformation, and then carefully sweeping her palm across the stone's smooth surface. It had been fun, and it had been her little secret. As she matured the mysterious properties of the stone began to raise questions about what sort of woman her mother must have been to entrust magical objects like this to her.
Her father disliked her asking anything about her mother, but eventually he had sat her down one afternoon. He had told her how her mother had been a witch. How she had been a danger to herself and others. In the end her powers had all but consumed her, finally resulting in her death.
Yet now none of it seemed to sit right. She had read her mother's diary, learning of her degredation and abuse at the hands of her father. That certainly didn't seem like a dangerous, powerful witch to her. No, something was wrong. A piece of the puzzle was still missing.
Mikayla looked down at the box in her hands, picturing her mother's soft face in her mind. Carefully she pulled the lid off looking inside. It was empty, save for several screwed up sheets of paper that had been used to enwrap the transformation stone.
Mikayla sat on the edge of an old trunk as she pulled one of the crumpled sheets from the box. There was writing on the paper! Carefully she unscrewed each of the sheets, finding pages of neat flowing handwriting sprawled across them. She immediately recognised the handwriting and the paper itself. They were the missing pages of the diary! It wasn't just the stone her mother had given her, it was the pages as well! As the dawn's light illuminated the basement, Mikayla arranged the pages into order and began to read.
* * * * * * * * * *
A little over 18 years ago....
Carl Simmons set his briefcase down in the hallway as he walked through to the living room. Another hard day at the office, he thought, but it was all worth it. After all, he got to come home everyday to his beautiful partner Heather.
He found her there sitting on the sofa. She had several old books open on the coffee table and was deep in study. Carl stood in the doorway, unnoticed, admiring her beautiful soft face, her long brunette hair that reached down to her lower back, and her dazzling green eyes that seemed to draw him in whenever he looked at them.
"Oh, Carl, you're home." Heather flashed him a brief smile as she got up.
Carl wrapped his arms around her, kissing her lovingly on the lips. He beamed a smile at her, he felt so in love.
"What are you reading? Eye of newt, wing of bat?" Carl joked heartily. He had known Heather was into the occult ever since he met her. After all he'd first met her at the carnival a few years ago when she had read his fortune for him.
"Very funny." Heather looked at him, unamused, her hands on her hips.
"You know I'm just teasing, honey." Carl kissed Heather's bare shoulder admiring her tattoo; a small crescent moon on her upper right arm.
Carl fell back onto the sofa. "Ohh, that's so much better..." He felt Heather come up behind him, leaning over the sofa as she began to massage his aching shoulders.
"You know, you really shouldn't work so hard," Heather said.
"But if I don't, who will? I'm the only man for the job. That's why they pay me so much."
"And your secretary? How much do they pay her?" Heather asked as she kneeded Carl's tight muscles.
"Oh, next to nothing."
"Don't you think that's a little unfair?"
"Owww! Go easy, Heather." Carl winced as Heather dug her fingers in deeper.
"I'm sorry," Heather huffed and straightened. Returning to the coffee table she began to tidy away her books. She sure could act strangely sometimes, Carl mused. But still, he loved her all the same.
* * * * * * * * * *
That night...
Carl looked up as Heather entered the bedroom. Wow. She looked
stunning. She wore a revealing negligee that was see-thru enough for Carl to be able to see her lacey black lingerie beneath. She smiled at him, her green eyes flashing as she seductively walked over to the bed.
Carl closed his diary and set it down on the bedside table along with his pen.
"You look beautiful," Carl complimented his lover as she slid up onto the bed next to him.
"That is what us women are supposed to do isn't it? Look good for their men?"
"I, uh, didn't mean it like that," Carl stammered, as Heather planted kisses on his face. She would often come out with strange things like that, Carl thought. Heather didn't seem to have a very good self-esteem which is why he tried to compliment her at every opportunity.
Carl closed his eyes as they slowly kissed. He rested a hand on Heather's shapely hip as her hand came up to rest on his toned chest.
"You know, I thought we might try something a little different tonight," Heather said breaking their kiss.
"What do you mean?"
Carl watched as Heather lent to her side of the bed, opening her bedside drawer she withdrew a small palm sized stone.
"What's that?"
Heather smiled seductively. "Just a little something to spice up our love life."
Carl felt a little hurt, he didn't think their love life was that bad!
"I don't understand, what does it do?" Carl stared entranced at the stone as it began to glow with a soft red luminescence in Heather's feminine hand.
"Watch." Heather closed her eyes, drawing her right palm across the stone's smooth surface.
Carl immediately felt the hairs begin to stand up on the back his neck, and then on his arms. He held them out in front of him and gasped. They were getting thinner! He flexed his slender fingers, watching as his fingernails lengthened and took on a bright polished shine.
"What's happening to me?" Carl's voice broke and he reached to his throat, feeling his Adam's apple smoothing to nothing. He felt a tickling sensation on his head and waves of long brunette hair began to flow down over his shoulders, all the way down his back. He looked down at his chest, watching as it began to swell. His night shirt and pants began to shift, blurring, losing distinction, becoming almost transparent, allowing him to see the extent of his changes. His hips were now wide, his legs smooth and hairless. His clothing began to redefine, a pair of lacey black panties wrapping themselves around his loins as his swelling breasts were wrapped with a matching black bra. With a shimmer, an almost see-thru negligee settled over his smooth feminine body. Finally Carl gripped his flat tummy, feeling an awful lurching sensation deep inside, as he felt his crotch tighten, pulling inwards.
Carl lay there for a moment, gasping, watching his cleavage swelling with each of his short breaths. Then he bolted, running from the bed to the mirror on the far wall, his breasts bobbing beneath his bra.
"Oh my god!" he cried in a high pitched voice as he ran his hands over his smooth feminine face. A pair of familiar green eyes stared back at him from the mirror. From his long brunette hair, right down to his dainty small feet, Carl was now an exact copy of Heather.
...continued in Chapter 17
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