Sympathetic Magic - 4/5 (Patreon)

New cover art by WholeLottaBlank!

Contains: Breast Expansion as Weight Gain, Stuffing

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Sympathetic Magic

VII

I got an unexpected knock on my apartment door the last Friday before move-out weekend. I wasn’t moving out; I had a summer job, but I planned to avoid campus as much as possible over the next two days. Unlinking and destroying a simulacrum is complicated, and I’d bagged up my Barbara doll and the materials I’d need. I planned to go to the State Park on Saturday night—somewhere I could start a fire.

I dropped the lump of clay I’d been kneading back in the bag and went to look through the peephole. It was Barbara. I opened the door. “Hey, what are you—“

“Can you help me?”

Barbara was in my personal space again. Her scent filled my nose, and her boobs almost crashed into my face. It had been a month and a half since my little “accident,” but Barbara had finally stopped growing about two weeks earlier. She matched the clay doll perfectly. Stretching out a hoodie with our school name warped across her front, Barbara’s tits were as big as her head, with a few handfuls to spare. I stepped back, almost tripping over the paper bag I’d just packed up. Luckily, it stayed closed—the last thing I needed was for her to see I had a tiny clay version of her and start asking questions.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Come in.”

I never had guests in my apartment, and for a moment, I wondered what the tall, gorgeous blonde would think of my collection of posters with pentagrams and metal bands. But she glanced around the room, and her face lit up. “She was right!”

“Barbara, slow down. Here, come sit.” I gestured at the couch, and we sat. I deliberately put myself far enough away that our knees couldn’t accidentally touch. I said, “Tell me what’s going on.”

Barbara proceeded to pour out her tale of woe. A tale that, at the risk of repeating myself, was my fault. She told me her breasts had mysteriously started growing—as if that could have escaped anyone’s notice—and that she’d had an insatiable appetite for over two months. All her modeling contracts had been canceled, and her agent was trying to convince her to switch to a different department that handled “adult” clients. I let her talk, keeping my quips and judgments to myself. Every word was like a punch in the gut that I absolutely deserved. After what felt like half an hour but was ten minutes at most, Barbara finally wound down and got to her reason for showing up at my place.

“And… and I was talking to Betye. I know it sounds stupid, but I think maybe I’m cursed or something. And she said… She said you draw all kinds of witch symbols and stuff in your notebook, and I thought… I thought…”

I wouldn’t call pentagrams or metal band logos “witch symbols,” though, I guess, to a normie…

“You thought what, Barbara?”

She looked like she’d been crying when she knocked on my door. Now, her eyes shone with hope, and her cheeks were bright. “I thought… maybe you could help me.”

“Help you?”

Barbara couldn’t possibly know I could do magic. And, as I’ve already said, it’s not magic magic. It’s not like I can wave a little wand at her and yell, “Reducio!” like we’re in a stupid kid’s book.

“Please!” She begged, taking my hand in both of hers and pulling, mashing my forearm into her vast chest. Her body was warmer than I’d expected.

“Barbara, there’s no such thing as magic,” I lied. “Or curses!”

She folded her legs under her perfect ass and leaned toward me. “Please, Danielle, I’ll do anything!”

She was really close to me now. I could feel waves of heat radiating off her enormous tits.

“I can’t!” I said, “There’s nothing I can do!”

Barbara’s voice was low and throaty as she said, “I’ll do whatever you want… let you… do… What. Ever. You. Want.”

Holy shit, was she offering to fuck me in exchange for my help? Or maybe to let me fuck her? Either way…

“Barbara,” I pleaded, “I don’t think—“

She cut me off by leaning even closer, swinging one leg around so she was kneeling over me, practically in my gods-damned lap. Her massive tits filled the space between us—the letters pressed up under my chin.

“Don’t get shy on me now, Dani… I know you’ve been feeling it too…”

“What!?”

“The vibe between us! I mean,” Barbara broke eye contact. “You probably don’t have much experience…” She met my eyes again, and the intensity of her gaze made my breath catch. “But I bet you’re into some weird stuff.”

I tried to push her off me, but she grabbed my wrists, pinning my arms to the back of the couch. “I mean it, a hundred percent. You can tie me up, whip me…”

“Barbara, stop!” I struggled against her grip, but she was too strong. I guess all her hours at the gym were more than just cardio. Having an extra foot of height and twenty-some pounds of tit to press against my chest probably helped.

She dropped her ass into my lap, grinding against me as she peppered kisses all over my neck. “Please –mwah– Dani, I –mwah mwah– I want you so –mwah– bad…”

Barbara’s body on top of mine blazed like a furnace. It was like a hundred and thirty pounds of hot water bottle pressing me into the couch. I turned my head to avoid her lips catching mine, and then I saw it. The fucking paper bag with the clay doll was lying against the radiator. It must have fallen there when I kicked it earlier. My own fucking magic was making Barbara hot—literally and figuratively. I cleared my mind. I pushed away the sensation of her hot pelvis grinding against mine, her warm lips on my skin, and her huge, firm breasts crushing my chest. My hold on the Void had never been so fragile as I pushed my subconscious and believed that the clay simulacrum on my floor was not Barbara.

With a soft pop only I could hear, the Link broke.

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VIII

Barbara pushed back, pulling her head away from my neck, and let go of my arms. Her eyes were wide and a little manic. “Wh–what?”

She scrambled off of me and stood. She was still close enough that her boobs blocked my view of her face. Her shoulders slumped, and she said, “Why did I do that? Oh my god, Danielle, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. This isn’t how I wanted… not like this…”

“Not… like this?” I softly repeated.

Her face turned bright red. She tripped over the coffee table and stumbled toward the door. “It’s nothing! I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry to bother you, to barge in like…”

“Barbara, wait!” I called.

She stopped, turning slowly. With her view of the floor blocked by her enormous tits, she couldn’t see the paper bag as she kicked it over with one foot. She stepped back, looking around to see what she’d almost tripped over. I was too distracted to notice.

Slowly, I asked, “What do you mean, ‘Not like this?’”

I know; I should have been freaking out. My nemesis-turned-dreamgirl had just tried to assault me. But once again, that was my fault. Plus, it had been a long time since I’d been touched like that. Besides, you can’t control people with Sympathy. As I said, magic is subtle, giant boobs notwithstanding.

“I…” Barbara wouldn’t meet my eyes. I thought she might try to bolt again, so I got up from the couch and approached her slowly, like a wild animal I didn’t want to spook.

I reached for her hand. “You what?”

“I… really like you,” she whispered.

If my mind hadn’t been a fog of fight-or-flight and horny, this revelation wouldn’t have surprised me. The magic couldn’t make her like me; it would just give her a little nudge, like if she got drunk and lost her inhibitions. Not that that made any of this okay, but I was in no state to process the ethics of my magic making her bold enough to assault me. All that came out of my mouth was a soft, “You… you do?”

She finally looked at me, then away again, shifting her weight to the other foot. She didn’t pull her hand away.

“Yeah… I’ve always thought you were a cool girl. I work so hard to get people to like me. To be what everyone expects me to be. But you… you’re so confident. You don’t give a shit. You’re pretty without even trying, and I think that’s really cool.”

I was stunned. I tried to clear my mind, to process this infodump of compliments. “What?”

She went on, “And then you started hanging out with me and my friends. And the more I got to know you, the more I liked you. You’re funny… and thoughtful, and—“

“Stop!” I couldn’t take it. If I’d heard one more self-deprecating compliment from this perfect woman, my world might have shattered.

She looked at me again, and I said, “What are you saying, you idiot?”

“W-what?”

“Don’t compare yourself to me!” I said, “You’re smart! You’re gorgeous! You’re a literal model! Everyone loves you!”

“They don’t, though!” She said, “They love the idea of me! I came to school without makeup one time, and everyone asked if I was sick! If I don’t keep up all this,” She waved her free hand over her face, “Then who am I? I’m nobody! These are fake lashes! I’m not even really blonde!”

My neck was getting sore from looking up at her, so I pulled her back into the room, stepping up onto the couch. From this angle, I could look down on her for once.

“Look at me,” I said, “I’ve seen your ‘no makeup’ selfies.”

“Y-you have!? I deleted those posts.”

“Yeah, well…” I couldn’t believe I was telling her this. “I found them. You know people archive that stuff, right?”

“I… guess so…”

“Anyway,” I continued, “My point is, you’re not nobody without ‘all this,’ you’re even prettier without it.”

“Bullshit.”

“Bullshit, nothing. I hated you. You’re pretty, smart, and popular. Just like the girls I hated in high school. You even…” I stopped myself. I couldn’t believe I almost spilled my whole “Carla drama” to her. I didn’t realize until that moment that I hadn’t thought about Carla that way in months.

“I what?”

“Never mind. Anyway, I got to know you. You’re thoughtful and caring, not at all the stuck-up princess I thought you were.”

“I’m not—“

“Shut up. At first, that made me want to hate you more, but I just couldn’t. You’re a good person, and I…” I trailed off. How did I feel about her?

“You…?”

Damn it all to hell. “I like you, too.”

Her face lit up like a damn Christmas tree. The heat in my chest pushed away all my panic and self-recrimination. I bent down to kiss her, taking her face in my hands. When she put her hands on my hips, I jumped off the couch to wrap my legs around her waist. She grabbed my ass, and her massive boobs squished between us as we made out.

We fell together down onto the couch in a fit of giggles. Yes, I fuckin giggled. Shut up.

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IX

After a good deal of making out, lying side-by-side on my couch, Barbara turned me on my back to kneel over me. I couldn’t see what she was doing because her tits hung down to mash into my chest, blocking my view downward. I reached a hand up to her face and found her looking not at me but somewhere over my head.

“What’s that?”

The spell was broken as those two little words sent a bolt of cold panic down my neck. Before I could form a response, Barbara was climbing off me, off the couch, and walking toward the door.

I tried to think of something, anything to distract her or entice her back. “Why—“

“What is this?” She interrupted, bending down, steadying her boobs with an arm as she picked up the clay doll.

Barbara stood. She looked at the simulacrum, turning it over in her hands. She looked at me, then back at the doll. I sat up on the couch, slowly rising to my feet.

Her voice was soft but icy. “What is this, Danielle?” She stared at the doll. “Why do you have a little statue of… is this me??”

My mind raced, but I couldn’t come up with an answer. I couldn’t tell her the truth. But what could I tell her that wouldn’t be complete bullshit? That I found it somewhere? That would only raise more questions. That I made it because I’m some kind of artist and I admired her? I don’t know. Is being a creepy stalker better than being a witch who put a curse on her? Maybe, but not by much.

Barbara looked back at me while I struggled to find a plausible response, then she returned to examining the doll. Her voice grew quiet, “Is this… my hair?”

She tugged at the single strand of hair, firmly wedged into the hard clay. I’ve said she was smart, so I guess what she said next was inevitable.

“It… was you…”

Her eyes met mine; her beautiful face twisted into an ugly mask of rage. “You did this to me!”

I stood frozen, blurting out, “What? I—“

“You, what?” She mocked. “Magic is real, and you used it somehow to do all this to me!” She gestured at her enormous chest.

Barbara took a step toward me, and I flinched back reflexively. “D-don’t be silly, Barbara… that’s impossible.”

“Is it!?” She got closer, and I took a step back.

“That’s just –um– a sculpture I was working on…” I said lamely, “I was just messing around…”

Her chest loomed toward my face, and I backed up again. “Oh, you were just ‘messing around?’ Then what’s with this hair, then?” She tugged the strand again, and again, it stayed put.

“Um, it, um…”

“‘Um, oh, um…’ You’re a shitty liar, Dani.” She closed on me, and when I retreated again, my back hit the wall.

Barbara stepped forward, pressing me against the wall with her tits. She put both hands on the wall, penning me in, still holding the simulacrum. I squirmed in my soft, fleshy prison, but even without her arms, Barbara had me trapped. As before, I was painfully aware of how much more physically powerful she was than me.

Her voice was a low growl, “I should report you to the dean.”

“W-what would he do?” I gasped. I could only take shallow breaths with her weight against me.

Barbara glared down, “Expell you… kick you out of school… cancel all your credits so you can’t graduate…”

A kind of calm fatalism fell over me. She was right to be angry. “What would you tell him? That I put a magic spell on you?”

She clicked her tongue in annoyance, “I’ll go to the police. Altering someone’s body without their consent has to be a felony!”

I let out a tiny sigh with my limited lung capacity. “They’re not going to believe you anymore than the Dean.” I took another ragged inhale. “Besides… did I force you to eat two or three helpings of lunch for the past two months?”

She pulled her empty hand back and slapped me across the face. If I hadn’t been pinned to the wall, I probably would have fallen to the floor. I probed with my tongue to see whether she’d knocked any of my teeth loose. Then, a hot wave of pain blossomed on my cheek.

I looked down, seeing nothing but Barbara’s chest, and sighed. “You’re right. And I deserved that.”

She stepped back with another annoyed “tsk.” My knees buckled, and I slid down the wall to land on my ass. Staring at the floor, I softly said, “I know you won’t believe me, but it really was an accident.”

“Accident…” She scoffed. “You accidentally cursed me to grow giant boobs?”

“Yes…”

“That’s hilarious. You should do stand-up.”

I struggled to my feet. “I mean it, Barbara. I could try explaining it to you, but I don’t even know how it happened, not really.”

“Well, that’s great. Just great.”

She paced the room, then spotted the open bag of clay on my desk. As she stomped across the room, I noticed I could see her boobs even from behind. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Barbara set the doll on the desk, grabbed a wad of clay, and rolled it between her hands.

“Let’s see how you like it…”