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The Mansion with the Morphing Manifesto
by Steve Zink

Finals had just been completed at Florida State University, and students were anxious to get on with graduation.  The lucky Seniors who had completed their courses with grades high enough to satisfy their instructors, that is.  There were, of course, Freshmen, Sophomores and Juniors who were merely looking forward to summer vacation, and entry into the next higher realm of the school in the Fall term.  Five of these Juniors were looking forward to the Fall term more than most of their peers, as they had become close friends during the very beginning of their frosh year at FSU.  Through the ensuing three years they had managed to align their class schedules and extracurricular activities closely enough to be in almost constant contact with each other.

Kevin Boyle, a Political Science major, was from Macon, Georgia.  His parents were willing to pay the exorbitant out-of-state student rates for his education because they had both gone to FSU in their own college years, and had fond memories of the school and its reputation.  The young man was not what you would call an excellent physical specimen, being a bit of a bookworm.  He had closely cropped brown hair atop a roundish face, with a pear shaped body attached to the thick neck below.

The only sport he even considered trying to play at FSU was baseball, but as he expected, when Kevin tried out for the team during his Sophomore year, he was told that his physical condition was inadequate for the strenuous outdoor activity.  It wasn't that the hopeful player was fat, he just had very little muscle tone, and had no intention of working out to build it up.  Since sports were out, he devoted most of his extracurricular time to intellectual activities, becoming an active member of the History Club, the Debate Society, and the Chess Club.

James Kirkwood, known almost exclusively by his nickname, Jim, had grown up just down the road from FSU in Tallahassee.  It was almost predestined that he would become enrolled to do his schoolwork there.  His selected field of study was Liberal Arts, a generic enough degree that he could almost pick and choose what he liked to fulfill his credit requirements.

Jim was just over six feet tall, with a lean build and wavy blonde hair.  Unlike his friend Kevin, he was an athlete from the git go.  He'd played football almost all his life, becoming a star defensive end on his high school team.  This got him the scholarship through which he was attending FSU.  The one extracurricular activity that he shared with Kevin, other than bar hopping and girl chasing, was the History Club.

Patrick Miller was an Orlando native, one of the rarities in that tourist town composed more and more of transplants.  His hope was to eventually live and work in his home town, but not as one of the tourism industry employees who were paid at or just above minimum wage.  Pat was majoring in Computer Science, with the hope of getting a job with Lockheed-Martin or one of the other engineering oriented firms taking root in Orlando.

He was skinny, giving the appearance of a black haired beanpole with a tight, muscular structure.  Pat even had a narrow face to fit in.  With his major and hopes for his future, he would be assumed to fit the stereotype of the classic nerd, but this couldn't be farther from the truth.  He was one of the rarities, an intellectual athlete, holding closely to his tight end position on the Varsity Football team.  Pat obviously saw Jim quite a bit this way, but also saw him regularly with Kevin in the History Club.  Pat had a keen interest in the ecology, and was a Board Member of that club, currently serving as its vice chairman.

Dominique Stillwater had grown up in Pensacola, both of her parents being staff members at the US Navy's Officer Candidate School.  While they had hoped Dom would find an interest in a Naval career, she had seen enough of the hardship endured by Navy enlisteds, officers and officer candidates during her upbringing to turn her fully away from the military.  She had a personality bordering on obsessively peaceful, by luck finding that this gave her a center position in almost all arguments, becoming the arbitrator to bring heated opponents to cool agreement.

Dom was tall, just shy of six feet in her stocking feet.  Her jet black hair fell straight to her waist, almost unnaturally narrow below her 34C chest.  She was studying Law, with the hope of one day becoming a judge that would mete tempered justice in a society sorely lacking it.  She played on FSU's Women's Basketball team, her lanky build and agility being assets they put to good use.  One might wonder about a gentle minded person playing in an aggressive sport like basketball, but this brunette was the exception, the hard playing athlete with a soul.  She, too, was a member of the History Club, supplying the group regularly with tales of Navy daring do and screw ups from her childhood days.

Karen Ames hailed from Miami, Florida.  She had been brought up in the land of sunshine, beaches and easy living.  She was particularly interested in the sea life she had grown up amidst, and was majoring in Oceanography.  She had a minor in Aquazoology, and if it wasn't yet obvious by now, was in the Honors Curriculum.  She was another of those people that just completely threw off the stereotypers, as did her friend Pat.

She had a body to die for, blue eyes and long blonde hair.  Dumb Blonde, right?  Sorry to disappoint you, but Karen had an IQ that made some of her Mensa friends envious.  Of course, she had to find things to do at FSU other than classwork, and besides her membership in many clubs, was getting a scholarship for the cheerleading she did just for physical activity.  Needless to say, those ogling the bodacious blonde on the sidelines had no idea that she could easily converse with any of them on almost any subject they'd care to bring up.

Throughout the Junior year, Kevin, Dom, Pat, Jim and Karen had spearheaded a project in the History Club, of tracking down the homes of early settlers in the FSU area.  Using the library's computer to access state databases, they found a number of ancient buildings still on the records as being domiciles.  Usually going in groups of at least three, the club checked out a large number of these relics of Florida's past, marveling at the wide variety of architectural style exhibited by them.

One building in particular had generated a bit more than the usual degree of interest in the club.  It was currently uninhabited, but seemed to have been last lived in by an accused witch.  During the school year, visits to this old mansion, located only twenty miles south of the campus, had been put off, mostly because of there being no one there to interview.

Our illustrious five made a visit to the mansion their first project for summer break.  Enough questions about the activities of its most recent owner existed to make it a high priority activity.  On a day when thousands of cars were exiting the FSU area in great haste, students trying to get away from school ASAP, Jim got into his Toyota minivan and fought the tide.  His friends all lived closer to the campus than he did, and getting to each apartment in the mass exodus proved to be the first challenge of the day.

He got to Karen's place first, and she came out dressed in a T-shirt and jeans.  Dom and Kevin both lived in the same apartment complex, and they were next to be picked up, Dom wearing a blue tube top and cut off jean shorts.  Kevin wore a white polo shirt and some khaki dockers.  It took another five minutes to get to Pat's flat, and he was waiting out front when the minivan pilled up, wearing an FSU T-shirt and jeans.

Finally, with five intrepid explorers onboard, the van joined in with the southbound flow of FSU evacuees.  Karen was seated up front with Jim, referencing the atlas in her lap to give him appropriate turn and distance advisories.  After traversing more wooded lanes than they imagined existed, the group found themselves at the gate to an estate set a mile in from the public road.  Finding no lock on the gate, Jim turned onto the access road which doubled as a long driveway, and pulled up at the front door to the mansion.

Karen was first out of the vehicle, and with more boldness than the others thought she had, walked right up to the door, knocked for formality's sake, then turned the knob.  Oddly enough, it was not locked.  The door must not have been used in quite a while, because as she swung it open, a loud creaking noise was heard.  The others were all approaching her position now, and at the sound of the door, Jim and Pat, in unison, cried out, "An Alfred Hitchcock Special!"

They looked at each other, then burst out laughing.

Dom gave them a look of despair, then said, "If you comedians are finished, let's get going and check out this relic."

Led by Karen, the group entered, and found themselves in a large foyer, lit profusely by skylights in the dome two floors above their heads.

Taking their time, they went together from room to room, admiring the artwork still hanging on the walls of the hallways.  Most of this artwork was classical in nature, heavy on Greco-Roman imagery, and a profusion of Renaissance portraiture.  "Why is it that none of us thought to bring a camera with a flash?" asked Kevin, to no one in particular.

Jim was quick to reply, "That just gives us another excuse to come back here for another visit!"

Dom caught Karen's attention, and pointed out to her a painting of an unnaturally beautiful woman hanging on the wall just outside what appeared to be a sitting room or den.  "The last owner, perhaps?" Karen remarked.  "Hey guys, over here!  Check out the painting Dom found.  We may have stumbled across the reputed witch who lived here."

The guys took an immediate liking to the beauty staring down at them, rating her high on the babe scale.  Karen and Dom had already gone into the adjoining room, so Kevin, Jim and Pat finished their ogling and followed them.

The room was a bit dim, its only window facing the northwest, away from the sun.  Enough light filtered in, though, for a thorough search of the room's contents to be done, and among other things, a tremendous library was found behind shuttered doors.  The subjects of the books ranged the gamut from strange to bordering on the occult.  "If anyone was looking for evidence to use in calling the owner a witch, I think this would suffice," Jim remarked.  Inside one of the doors was a scroll, but no interest was shown in unrolling it to see its contents.

Something else had gotten their attention.

Kevin had rooted out a large footlocker from under a heap of drapes and linen.  It bordered on looking more like a chest than a footlocker, and he announced his find thus, "Hey, look!  I found a treasure chest!"  Prying open the lid, he found a collection of knickknacks that bore no apparent relationship at all.  All five started rooting through the wares inside, all of which was now seeing light for the first time in years.

"Let's all grab a souvenir, no one here is going to miss any of this!" cried out Jim with glee.  He found a copy of Playboy from the late fifties with Marilyn Monroe as the centerfold.  Aside from the content, he knew that the value of that old an issue, in the excellent condition it was in, had to be quite high.

Karen located a cosmetic kit, and found amongst the items discovered therein was an ancient tube of a bright, Candy Apple Red lipstick.  "I've got my goodie, guys," she said.  "This would look nice in a display of trappings used by brainless bimbos to snare men that I'm putting together!  It's even moist still, it hasn't dried up in the past few years of storage."  She made sure the cap of the tube was on tight, then put it in her pants pocket.

Giggling profusely, Dom held up, for all to see, a strap on dildo that was twelve inches long and two inches in diameter.  "Now, what pray tell do you think a prim and proper lady of the house would have been doing with this little toy?" she inquired.  "There must have been some interesting fun and games in the evenings of this woman's life!  I've got my souvenir!"

Pat dug through more sex toys and just plain whatevers.  He wanted to find something really significant.  At the bottom of the chest, he found his goal.  "Look at this, will you?!?" he cried out.  "A lifetime pass to Frasier's Gymnasium and Health Spa.  I thought they didn't invent that kind of gym scam until the eighties!"  Putting the pass in his shirt pocket, he confidently added, "I have my remembrance.  What a picture of the times!"

Kevin, meanwhile, was displaying between his outstretched hands, a bra that looked like something Madonna would have craved for one of her concert tours.  "Get a load of this!" he said.  "Can you believe the size of this thing?  Dom or Karen, can either of you estimate the size of these cups?"

Karen spoke up first, "Kevin, my boy, it looks like you've got yourself an over the shoulder boulder holster that could hold mountains!  Just guessing, I'd say they might be HHHH or higher."

Dom then stated the obvious, "Why don't you take a look at that tag next to the hooks on the strap of that monster?"

Kevin blushed at the missing of such an easy answer, and held the strap close to his eyes.  "Close, Karen, it's a 42JJJJ.  Don't ask what possible use it could have, but I'm taking this home with me!"

Jim looked at his watch, and said, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it's getting close to 2 in the afternoon.  I need to be back home to work on a paper before dinner, so let's seal this room back up, and head on back to school."

Pat was the only one to reply.  "Spoilsport!"  He then turned to join the others in closing up all they had disturbed in the room.

Again, the scroll in the library door was ignored.  As they left the room behind, Kevin looked up to the painting they had so admired on the way in.  "Hey, gang, do any of you remember this woman having a scowl on her face when we saw her earlier?"

"No," replied Dom.  "She's probably pissed that you took her Wonder Bra!  Now, come on!"

The Toyota was once again boarded, and was soon fighting the traffic flow once more.

The painting had indeed been scowling.  However, now that the 'grave robbers' were gone, she was grinning from ear to ear.

Had anyone in the group bothered to read the scroll in the library, they may have looked only when they found the chest.  In old English characters was the following warning:

       Hark, all ye who visit upon the home of Cassandra.  
       Beware the enchantments placed upon all who trod
       the floors of this unholy place.

       The goods ensconced herein have been jinxed, such
       that a person being in the presence of an item
       purloined will be acted upon forthwith.

       Heed this warning, lest ye bear the consequences!

The trip back to FSU was unremarkable, with the exception of the huge volume of cars still streaming away from the campus.  Jim's Toyota had an easy time of it, since it was going toward FSU, sort of like watching the lemmings in rush hour traffic while heading the other way.  Each of the explorers was dropped off at their abodes, clutching their keepsakes close to keep any prying eyes from catching sight of their booty.

Cassandra's curse started to take effect as soon each was in their bedroom.

* * * * *

Pat had been the first to be dropped off, and therefore was the first of the five to feel the wrath of the witch they'd intruded upon.  As he pulled the lifetime pass card from Frasier's Gymnasium and Health Spa from his shirt pocket, the young man noticed something he'd missed when showing off his booty at the mansion.  The people on the card were all women, with incredibly good looking bodies, apparently the result of visits to the spa.  They were all adorned in 50's style swimsuits, with towels around their necks.  The fine print on the card mentioned that Frasier's was exclusively for the use of female clients, since they were excluded from the health benefits of all the men-only gyms of the day.

On a whim, Pat got out his phone book, and was astonished to see a listing for Frasier's, still in downtown Tallahassee.  He punched their phone number on his cell phone, and the clerk who answered told him that lifetime cards were indeed still being issued by the spa.  He asked about the one he was holding in his hand, and after she had a chance to access their records, told him, "The card you're holding is a valid one.  It was fully paid for in 1961.  Only Cassandra Shires or her female descendants would be allowed to use our facilities with her card, though."

"Gee, that's a shame," replied Pat.  "I guess I just have a nifty remembrance of the past to hold onto, then."  She thanked him for his call, and he also thanked her for the information she'd given him, then broke the connection.  'Only Cassandra or her female descendants,' thought Pat.

Then Cassandra's curse kicked into action.

Pat froze in place, held by a magic field which expanded to fill every cubic inch of his condo.  His FSU T-shirt, jeans, underwear and sneakers disappeared, leaving him stark naked.

The grey paint on the walls of his bedroom changed to a coral pastel shade.  The simple bed he was standing next to became an elegant four poster, with flowery linens covering it.  The clothes in his dresser and closet slipped into a netherworld, to be replaced by exquisite dresses, slacks, blouses and skirts, and the appropriate underwear to go with them.

No longer were there size 32 briefs and medium undershirts in the dresser drawers; now the drawers were filled with size 36DDD bras and body stockings and size 6 panties.  The socks were replaced by stacks of silk and nylon hose and pantyhose.  A special drawer held the completely new additions to the clothes, containing corsets, garter belts and other more esoteric female garments.

As the magic finished its work on Patrick's place of living, making it more appropriate for its new occupant, it started to work on Patrick himself.  Slowly, the flesh and bones of the virile young man began to flux, reshaping into the form of the woman in the painting they had noted outside the room they plundered.  The short black hair grew out, halting at the middle of the back.

As his height dropped a bit, Pat's waist sucked in while his hips flared out and his ass took on a well rounded shape.  A weight was felt on his chest as breasts began forming, becoming the perfectly shaped globes admired by the guys in the painting.  His dick was sucked into his crotch, becoming the sensitive new clit hidden in the folds of the slit now adorning his crotch.  His face became a near replica of that in the painting, and now he was most definitely a she.

She got the now pink cell phone back out and punched redial.  When the clerk at Frasier's answered, she said, "Hi, this is Cassie Shires.  I've got my grandmother's lifetime membership card, and I'll be coming by in an hour to update your records and utilize the facility."

The clerk was glad to hear from her, and asked to meet her when she stopped in.  Cassie assured her that she would, then hung up.  "Ha, ha, ha, Cassandra Shires or her female descendants!  I'm now the modern reincarnation of Cassandra Shires.  Look out world, I'm on a new roll!"

Cassie snapped her fingers, and instantly appeared to be wearing a shiny, royal blue spandex workout suit, her huge tits standing proud from her chest.  She then went to her closet and pulled out a tight fitting black dress to put over it for the trip downtown.  She put her sneakers into a carry sack, then slipped her feet into the five-inch heeled black pumps she would wear in transit.  Just for effect, she snapped her fingers and a black witch's hat appeared on her head.  Looking over herself in her vertical mirror, she laughed wickedly, then popped her hat back into storage.

Cassie made a distinct impression upon the women in the spa when she got there, most of them wondering why the hell she needed to use the facility at all.  Cassie carefully noted these thoughts, making a list of those she would take in as her new witch's assistants.  The clerk at the desk had already been given that opportunity, and had used her new powers to alter the membership records to show Cassie as the true holder of the card.

The guests of the spa all wondered, as they were leaving, about the way the desk clerk looked different from the way they'd seen her on the way in.  They couldn't recall her having a black dress on, or having quite as large a bust as she now appeared to have.  All benefits they would themselves soon enjoy.  Cassie was definitely on her way to starting over.

* * * * *

Kevin had been the next member of the raiding party dropped off.  As he entered his apartment, the purloiner pulled the rolled up bra out of his pants pocket.  Drawing it between his outstretched hands, he walked into his bedroom.  Once again, he wondered about the size of the woman who could wear such a garment comfortably.  He cowered in shock, dropping the bra, as he heard an ethereal female voice say, "You're about to find out!"

Cassandra's voice fell silent, and her curse started to work.

As had his friend Pat, Kevin was frozen to the spot.  Cassandra's curse worked over the interior of his apartment, making it a rather spartan affair with minimal furniture, all in a simple female motif.  Kevin was aware of the changes taking place around him while standing there, and wondered why everything looked so basic, with no sign of anything requiring brains to operate or use.  Then he saw his white polo shirt, dockers, and the rest of his clothes vanish into thin air.

To his astonishment, Kevin watched his chunky gut flatten out into a tight, smooth and very much smaller stomach area.  Then the more extensive changes got started.  Kevin's midsection became wasp waisted, so incredibly small that the ass and hips below took on outlandish proportions.  His legs became short and curvy, with elegantly crafted calves and thighs.

He could feel his face being reshaped, to what he could only imagine, and Kevin saw his fingers and hands become svelte, with long, pointed, red polished fingernails.  He felt a tug in his crotch and felt, more than saw, his equipment becoming internal instead of external.  Then, as he saw his short brown hair falling past his shoulders to his waist, he felt a tug at his chest.

Breasts were blossoming outward, defying gravity.  When they had stopped growing, to fit the size of the bra he'd stolen, the work of the curse was done.  Well, not quite, actually.  Kevin still had enough intellect to understand what had just happened to him, or rather, her.  Not for long, though.  As she knelt to pick up her bra, because bending was out of the question, almost every bit of reasoning ability slipped out of her head.  "Oooo, what a bummer," she said.  "I dropped my bra.  I thought I was only s'posed to do that in my show!"

On the way back up, she inserted a finger into the slit in her crotch and fingered her clit.  "Oooo, ah, not yet, gotta wait til the show," the slut said as she licked her finger clean.

After she fitted the monstrous cups around the boobs that were a size too big for them, she hooked the straps behind her back.  "Gee, I wonder if I should get a bigger bra?  Nah, this gets the guys so excited!" the bimbo said as she shuffled through her drawer for her g-string.  She reached into her closet and pulled out a frilly white lace blouse and red leather miniskirt, which she then put on, easily since she had a lot of practice taking them on and off.

Kneeling in the closet, she grabbed her red stretch PVC boots, and zipped them up to her knees while sitting on the side of her unmade bed.  Coming to her feet, she now stood six inches taller.  She sat down at her dressing table and did her makeup, putting on a slutty, come and get me face.

Mincing her way through the dirty bras and panties littering her floor, she got to the phone in the living room.  When she hit the numbers on the dial, nothing happened.  "Oh shit, I forgot to charge this thing up again," she muttered, then put the phone in its charging cradle, such a simple task, but one she had difficulty remembering to do.  Luckily, she had another, regular phone in her kitchen.  After punching seven numbers with her right index finger's nail, she said, "Hi boss, it's me, Kandie.  I'm running just a little late, but I should get there in time for the second happy hour show.  Yeah, I know the other girls have to work harder to cover my ass, but what would you do without your star stripper?  See you in a little bit!"

Kandie was on her way to do about the only job she could think of that her tiny little brain could handle.  Of course, it was her body she used at work, not her brain, so what did that matter.  All she needed to do was display her amazing assets after taunting the men throwing money at her with wild abandon.  Kandie didn't have to be able to count that money, the boss did that for her, and she always got all her money, didn't she?

* * * * *

At almost the same moment Kevin was entering his apartment, Dominique was stepping into hers.  She had carefully wrapped the huge dildo in a towel she'd found in Jim's van, to hide it from view.  Her reputation could be shot to hell if anyone saw her with the outrageous sex toy.  Dom went into her kitchen to check the answering machine, but saw a steady light, without any flashes indicating messages on queue.  Reaching into her fridge, she pulled out a bottle of Evian spring water, and started sipping on it as she grabbed the towel and went into her bedroom.

Cassandra's curse now hit Dom.

As she froze in place, Dom saw the magic fill and totally change the appearance of her apartment.  The walls of her living room became solid concrete panels, with no windows visible.  Chains hung from both the ceiling and walls, and various tools of a dungeon started to appear.  A large wood X-Frame was in one corner, two vertical posts along a wall, a T-Frame in another corner.  Padded sawhorses appeared in the middle of the now much larger room.  One wall was completely arrayed with the hand tools of the trade, whips, crops, clamps of various sizes and cuffs being predominant.

The bedroom Dom was standing in took on the look of a dressing studio with costumes and fetish clothing hanging everywhere.  Her bed became a queen sized four poster with cuffs chained to the bottom of each post.  The walls were adorned with sadistic artwork, depicting males and females alike in scenes of vile debasement.  The carpet beneath her feet was replaced by a hard tile floor.  When the magic felt satisfied with the changes it had wrought, it turned to Dominique herself.

The sneakers on her feet, tube top on her chest, and cutoffs and panties on her mid section melted into thin air.  Dom watched in awe as a glossy black latex sheath formed around her entire body, then felt it actually rising to envelop her head, also.  She could see through eye holes on her helmet, and the bottom of her nose was also open to the air, along with her lips.

Dom felt her hair being pulled up behind her, then felt it cascading down her back once more, but in a more concentrated stream.  Gloves with metallic claws at the fingertips formed on her hands and extended to her upper arms.  A belt riding low on her hips appeared, with clips and D rings dangling provocatively.  Then shiny black latex thigh high boots became apparent on her legs, and if Dom was tall before, she was now a giantess, perched atop her seven-inch heels.  A vertical mirror came into view on the wall to her right, and the magic's victim turned to see her new self as it reworked her mind.

Mistress Dominique reached with one hand to straighten the black pony tail projecting from the crown of her head and falling to her ass.  She reached for the dildo which she'd laid on her dressing table, and strapped it onto her ebony clad crotch.  An eighteen-inch crop was then picked up before going into the dungeon to service the masochistic female strapped to the sawhorses there.

Her heels clicked menacingly as she strode purposefully from her dressing room to the dungeon.  Going through the doorway, she took another sip of the champagne she'd poured for herself after getting the messages from her slaves looking to set up more appointments on her answering machine.

"Now then, slave, tell your Mistress how much you want her to ram her faux cock into your tight little pussy and your virgin anus!  What's the matter, cat got your tongue?  Oh, that's right, you can't talk because of that ball gag in your mouth.  Well then, I guess I'll just have to show you no mercy."

While it may seem that the curse has actually benefited Dominique instead of causing her pain, remember what it has done to her mind.  The once placid, peaceful Dominique has become the cruel, sadistic Mistress Dominique.

* * * * *

Karen was the last of the group to be dropped off by Jim before he got home himself.  Before going into the house, she got her mail from the mailbox under her porch light.  Checking, she found three magazines, two bills and numerous advertisements.  "Let's see," she said.  "Scientific American, Mensa Bulletin, and American History.  Should give me plenty to read for the next few days."

After she unlocked her door and swung it open, Karen went to the end table next to her couch to place the magazines in the 'To Read' pile.  The bills she put on the desk, to be looked at later, while the ads went straight into the garbage can without being looked at.

As she went into her bedroom, Karen pulled the tube of lipstick from her pants pocket.  She reached to put it on the shelf with her display of prostitute tools.  It would be joining a pair of black seven-inch heeled lock strap shoes, another pair of shoes that were bright red and had three-inch platforms and nine-inch heels with straps that wound up the calf to tie just below the knee, gaudy earrings, nose rings, nipple clamps, locking chokers, and rings of all shapes and sizes.  All items she herself abhorred, since she valued her mind as her greatest asset.  Only tramps who had no brains to work with would stoop low enough to wear these items and sell their bodies.

Karen was turning away from the display when Cassandra's curse hit her.

She became frozen in place, staring at the items in her display.  The magic started to work over the neat, orderly home of Karen Ames, intellectual and future scientist.  The decor changed from a subdued pastel shade to gaudy, psychedelic colors.  The photos of manatees, whales and porpoises on the walls disappeared, to be replaced with op-art color splotches.  Her finely made queen sized bed became a workmanlike twin with a mattress hard enough to handle the constant use it got.  Mirrors appeared on all walls and the ceiling.

Her closet was emptied, to be filled with trashy clothes that had but one purpose, to advertise the body they covered.  Sneakers and sensible dress shoes along the closet floor were replaced with innumerable pairs of stiletto heeled shoes in every color of the rainbow, and a like assortment of boots, from ankle high thru knee high, all the way to crotch high.

This was now the workplace of Kaley Ames, airhead blonde bimbo and slutty prostitute.  The magic worked on her mind to make it match, then allowed her to move again.  The first thing Kaley did was to get out her new lipstick, and do up her lips in bright red.  Then she took off the disgusting T-shirt and jeans she was wearing, along with the vile white panties and bra.

She went to her closet to get her hot pink lycra spandex micromini dress, then slipped her legs into it.  As the top of the dress was pulled up over her chest, Kaley was pleased with the way the scar from her implant surgery had healed.  There was no sign of the scar she'd gotten after getting her 38HH boobs, the better to draw out her customers.  She even had complete feeling back in her nipples, which she could attest to after squeezing them with her long red fingernails and attaching her nipple clamps.

To finish her ensemble, Kaley picked out a pair of pink knee high boots sporting four-inch platforms and eleven-inch super sexy fuck me heels which she sat on her workstation to lace up.  Getting up off her bed, she went to her makeup table, and did up the rest of her face to match her luscious lips.  The slut she saw when the blonde finished pushed a stray hair out of her face, then grinned with a come and get me smile.  She went into her bathroom to make sure the supply of handsoap, condoms and shields was adequate for the evening's work, then grabbed her ring collection.  Each finger was adorned with a garish stone of one sort or another, then her nose ring was placed through the piercing on her left nostril.  Two huge loops of silver were strung through her ear lobes, and four bands of silver were placed around each wrist.  The black leather choker was strung around her neck, then hitched with a tiny padlock that her key sometimes refused to open.

Kaley was ready for work.  Just to make sure, she went to her living room, which was used as a waiting area for upcoming customers.  She made sure there were adequate numbers of Playboy, Penthouse and Hustler on the 'reading' pile on her end table.  She stopped at her trash can, and pulled out the mailings from Victoria's Secret and Fredericks of Hollywood that must have accidentally fell in.

Since there was no one yet waiting to make use of her services, Kaley grabbed her pink purse, got her keys from the black purse she'd used earlier, and got into her Mercedes SL to go downtown.  There, she was sure to find some customers.  The night was clear, so the whore lowered the roof, allowing her long blonde hair to stream out behind her as she drove.  Interested parties seeing her on the road could get in touch with her to hire her services via the phone number and email address she had on a bumper sticker.

* * * * *

Jim was glad that traffic hadn't delayed the dropping off of his friends.  He was hoping they all were settling in nicely after the day's activities, while he was not exactly looking forward to working on the paper he had to get completed.  He figured they all must be having a better time than he could expect.  Then again, he did enjoy doing the research, it was just the typing at a word processor that he disliked.  His spot on the football team, due to start practicing for the next season in only three weeks, was dependent on a good grade on the make up paper he was getting down to.

Before opening up the file, Jim logged on to his webserver.  He wanted to see just how valuable the issue of Playboy was that he'd latched onto.  A quick search pointed him to three sites with old magazine values, and the best price he saw for what he guessed to be an issue in excellent condition was $200.00.  He thought that the amount would be much higher than that, and decided to hang on to his book for a while to see if anybody else published any higher offers.  He got up from his desk, and went over to his bed, where he'd laid the copy of Playboy.

Jim started to flip through the pages, not believing just how fresh and clean the paper felt.  It almost seemed as if the magazine had just been published yesterday.  When the centerfold of Marilyn Monroe opened up, he stopped to admire her.  He was nearly two generations behind the gorgeous blonde, but still felt a deep longing for her.

At that moment, Cassandra's curse got to Jim.

He froze in place, staring at Marilyn Monroe.  While he was becoming eminently familiar with every aspect of her body, the magic started to work over Jim's abode.  The white walls became a pale coral color.  Pictures of football stars in action poses turned into pictures of those same stars in romantic poses.  The thin woven rug on Jim's floors became a deep plush pile.  The hard fabric couch in his living room became a supple leather love seat.  Futuristic looking fluorescent lamps turned into antique lamps with a romantic flair.

The contents of Jim's closets and drawers were taken away, to be replaced with numerous examples of feminine finery.  He couldn't see it yet, but the website displayed on his computer went to something more appropriate.  Most importantly, all items of football uniforms in his possession disappeared, to be replaced with cheerleader uniforms.  The pictures Jim had of himself being awarded trophies over the years became pictures of the cheerleading groups she'd worked with.

Yes, by now the magic had also started to work on the well tuned athletic body of Mr. James Kirkwood.  By now it had taken on all the aspects of the beautiful body he'd been studying when the changes started.  Her hair and makeup were more appropriate for the late 90's, but standing there, holding a Playboy depicting her earlier self, was a reincarnation of Marilyn Monroe.

She was still in her late teens, and a core member of the FSU cheerleading squad.  Mary Lynn Monroe had a term paper she needed to work on if she wished to stay on that squad.  Of course, she could try to convince her instructor to give her a better grade via alternate methods, but the paper couldn't be that hard to do, could it?  Yes, indeed, Mary Lynn is the second blonde airhead to result from the curse's activity.

Mary Lynn was trying hard to emulate her heroine, Marilyn Monroe, and was studying old picture collections like the Playboy to get a good feel for what she could do.  She had already convinced her parents to let her have plastic surgery to change her facial features, and luckily, her body was already a dead ringer for the 50's bombshell.  Mary Lynn put down the Playboy, then got out of her Cheerleader uniform.  It was bad enough that practice had gone on 'til late in the day, but some of the guys wanted her to go out with them in her uniform.  She was too naive to see the significance of the fetishes she was bringing out in her classmates.

Mary Lynn put on the purple spandex leotard she liked to lounge around in, then sat down at her computer.  The Marilyn Monroe fan page she was on would have to wait until later.  The term paper was way too important to skip over.  She pulled up the file she'd been working on, "Sex as a Tool", and started to hammer away on her keyboard.  Her heroine had been famous for the way she used her sex for her own gain, and Mary Lynn was following her example.  This paper just had to get her her good grade.  As much as she liked Mr. Hopkins as a person and teacher, she hated his sexual habits.  They were just too kinky for her liking.

Mary Lynn was typing away madly when she heard her doorbell ring.  She slipped on a pair of high heeled mules, not even thinking of the picture she now presented with her well defined shape in the spandex, then went to get the door.  "Why, Mr. Hopkins, what brings you here this evening?  I thought I wasn't due to see you again until later in the week?  What's that, you have some new toys you want to play with?  Hey, why did you put handcuffs on my wrists behind my back?  I don't know, Mr. Hopkins, are you summmpphhhh!?!"

"Yes, Mary Lynn, I've always wondered what it would have been like to put Marilyn Monroe into bondage.  Now I'll find out!  I hope you enjoy that ball gag, it's only the beginning of what I want to show you tonight!"

* * * * *

And so it came to be that the witch Cassandra and her cursed mansion changed forever the lives of five youngsters who dared to violate the 'sanctity' of the unholy grounds they'd stumbled upon.  There are sure to be future visitors to her mansion, but will they heed the warnings placed there?  If not, more interesting changes are sure to occur.

The end...of five new beginnings

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