Stolen Opportunity - Karma (Patreon)

Stolen Opportunity - Karma
Written by HarmonyMotion
Commissioned by anonymous
https://www.patreon.com/harmonymotion
harmonymotionfiction@gmail.com

Day 1

Daphne watched the events unfold on her laptop screen for the umpteenth time. It had been one month since Super Watch Blog had gone silent, but the final, grainy video of an absolutely gobsmackingly beautiful Marie tormenting fat, stupid Annie into despairing sobs was like cocaine for Daphne’s soul.

The beautiful teenager placed her computer on a bedside desk as the video playback ended with Marie hovering into the air. She looked at her posters of Alice Midorikawa, world’s first superwoman, hanging all over the walls of her bedroom. The Asian woman was the pinnacle of female perfection, as inhumanly powerful as she was beautiful, her actions and motives inscrutable. She seemed to live merely for her own pleasure, sometimes heroic, sometimes villainous, and always downright mischievous.

Daphne was rubbing her aching pussy as she drank in the Asian beauty recreated on lifeless vinyl. Between Marie’s reversal of karma and Alice’s transcendent, otherworldly beauty, Daphne stood no chance as her fantasies ran wild of having such power herself.

“Daphne! Dinner time, dear!”

Fuck. A moaning Daphne took her dripping hand out of her skirt and rubbed her heated thighs together.

Her mom was such a pushover wallflower. How had she ever landed her dad? She had been quite a looker in her young adult years, for sure. Daphne could see her mother’s features in herself now. But to see what her mother had become, how plain and unambitious… Daphne swore she’d never turn into her mother.

She went to the bathroom to rinse her hands and scrub them off with soap. Looking in the mirror, she examined her long, blonde hair, a dark brown at their roots. Fuck. She’d have to treat it again.

She bet supers Alice, Marie, and Kim never had to do any such thing.

“Daphne! Dinner, before it gets cold!”

“Yeah, Mom! I heard you the first time!” Daphne shrieked back.

She cupped her already impressive bust. It still didn’t compare to the supers. They were so incredibly large, their skin looking so soft. Yet those staggering slopes must have been firmer than steel and completely, utterly invulnerable to harm.

“Daphne!”

“God dammit Mom yeah I’m coming!”

But Daphne was no quitter. Not like her mom. No, she took more after her dad in that regard.

She had her own plans set in motion. She wouldn’t turn into no stupid Annie.

Day 1 (cont.)

Daphne turned the corner and entered their small kitchen. The dining table was littered with knick-knacks and a week’s worth of newspapers. Her father Dylan was sitting at one of the two open seats at the table, brushing the old, black and grey paper with his hand as he carved into his firm, yet crumbly meatloaf. He was busy looking at his laptop.

“Here you go, dear,” Margaret put a plate of meatloaf and garlic infused mashed potatoes in front of her.

“Mom! I told you I’m trying to watch my weight!” Daphne protested as she angrily separated the mashed potatoes from the rest of her meal.

“You’re going to wither away, honey. You’re so skinny already!”

“Yeah, compared to you, maybe,” she spat venomously.

“Daphne, be nice to your mother,” Dylan commented without emphasis.

“Oh please Dad. You want her to lose some weight too.”

“Young lady!” Dylan put down his fork and finally looked up from his computer.

“Okay, okay, sorry Dad.” Daphne bit into her moist meatloaf like a puppy with its tail between its legs.

But it was true. Dylan missed the fiery passion Margie and he had in their youth. Time had not been kind to Margaret. And with him getting such a lucrative job 300 miles away, it only made sense for Margie to quit her entry-level work at an architecture firm to follow him in his career. She was content to play housewife.

He just wished she weren’t so content.

“Well, Daphne…” Margie was quite shaken from their conversation. Daphne usually wasn’t this much of a sassy bitch. High school seemed to be changing her for the worse. “Where’s your tupperware?”

“In my room. Backpack.”

“Is it so much trouble for you to drop it off in the kitchen when you get home?”

“Yeah, yeah, Mom. Next time.”

Margaret sighed. Same conversation for four years.

She walked down the hall and turned into Daphne’s room at the very end. The middle-aged, pudgy Margaret looked at the posters hanging on her daughter’s wall.

The media and whatnot had blamed Barbie dolls, cartoon depiction of women, and photoshop for putting forth an unhealthy, unrealistic depiction of what constituted beauty. But they were nothing compared to these real life superwomen. She sighed and feared for her daughter. Daphne, like so many others in their adolescent age, were utterly obsessed.

But it was easy to see why. It wasn’t just the beauty, which Margie admitted, would be nice… But the powers, the freedom that came with it, to never be beholden to society’s rules again. What a fantasy!

Margaret fetched the tupperware and little portable utensil kit she packed for her daughter. At least Daphne liked her food, if nothing else. Hopefully she would get over her rebellious phase soon.

Back in the kitchen, Daphne had finished her dinner and left the potatoes completely untouched. She hurriedly made her way back to her room, brushing past her mother in the hallway.

“Don’t forget, Daphne. You have to do your homework. And call back the Garretts about babysitting Bobby! You owe them an apology! I already watched him for you twice this week! Where have you been all weekend?”

“Yeah, whatever Mom!”

Margie swallowed her frustration as Daphne shut her bedroom door and immediately got on the phone with her friends. She was so loud when she talked to them. The whole house could hear their girlish gossip.

“Yeah, like duh, of course I saw what Alice did today. Who didn’t?! She like, owns Needle and Stitch now! I don’t think she even likes their clothes! She just, like, …yeah, I know! On TV! Fuckin’ whammed the CEO with her beauty! I bet he still can’t walk straight! Hahaha!”

“Jess, I gotta tell you something. I’ve been working on catching the virus myself. Yes, I’m serious! Shut up bitch let me talk! They’ve been doing contact tracing on that stupid fat girl, Annie. It’s like, making its way toward our town. I’ve been trying to get all the info I can out of various clinics, putting it together via following unofficial websites and stuff. I’ve been like, trying to… well… yes! Shut up! No, you’re gross! Fine, we’ll see what you think when I actually have the virus and go all fuckin’ super on you! You’ll be lucky if I’m still your friend!”

“Yeah yeah, you know I’m kidding Jess. Love ya bitch. We’ll always be friends. Okay bye.”

In bed that night, Margaret lay next to Dylan, feeling a distinct need for some intimacy. She reached over Dylan’s back and began to fondle his bare chest before tracing a line down to his boxers.

“Margaret… you know I have a big day tomorrow…” Dylan lectured her.

“I know, Dylan, I just wanted to, y’know…”

“Well, tomorrow’s Tuesday. That’s our day. You know that. Let me get some sleep for now.”

Dylan gently but firmly pushed her arm off.

Margaret lay there in silence. They hadn’t had sex on Tuesdays for a while now.

When she heard the heavy, rhythmic rise and fall of Dylan’s chest, she made her way back to the kitchen. She looked at Daphne’s fork in the tupperware that she hadn’t gotten around to washing yet. After a brief hesitation, she licked all the tines thoroughly and sucked on the handle of the fork. Maybe, just maybe…

Day 2

Monday morning, Daphne grabbed the lunch her mother had made and left on the kitchen table and climbed into her father’s car for him to drop her off at Littlerock High. Surprisingly, Margaret was in the back seat of the car.

“Mom? What are you doing here?”

“Just have to go to the chiropractor, dear,” she lied.

Dylan dropped Margaret off at a strip mall a few blocks away from her actual destination before driving off with Daphne.

Margaret, dressed in a pair of pumps and her ill-fitting baggy clothes, made her five block journey on foot toward the New You Clinic. They had mixed reviews on the super virus detection and treatment, with lots of hateful comments from women stating that they had botched it all up. Of course, anyone who received treatment without having the virus active in its small incubation period was going to suffer weight gain and a distinct lack of super powers. It was hard to tell the real feedback from the fake. The treatment was supposed to be simple, but this clinic had no track record of success. Not that there were too many success stories to go around.

But at least this one was affordable.

Huffing and puffing after the more than a mile walk, a fat, out of shape Margie made her way into the brightly lit, shoddy looking clinic. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. A clearly woozy woman was making her way out, looking worse for wear. Had she just gotten the treatment?

Margie’s hand trembled with nerves.

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked. “Walk-in? Or appointment?”

“Walk-in.” Margie answered. Maybe she should be a walk-out.

“Diagnosis or treatment?”

“Di… treatment,” Margie found a burst of courage and answered firmly.

The receptionist raised a single eyebrow. “Treatment. You sure?”

“Yes.”

The young woman regarded Margaret firmly, before sighing in resignation and sliding over a clipboard filled with legalese.

“You understand the risks if you undergo treatment without the virus?”

“Yes.”

“You rescind all rights for malpractice if you obtain the… undesirable result.”

“Yes.”

The receptionist paused for effect dramatically. A lot of women often lost their nerves here and changed their minds.

Margie didn’t.

“Sign here, here, here.”

Margie signed on the dotted lines. What did she have to lose?

“The operation is relatively simple. We have an opening in two hours. The medical team will meet you now and prepare you.”

Margie pushed the forms back, swiped her credit card, and gulped.

Seven hours later, a disoriented Margaret stumbled out of the recovery room. The nurses had helped her back into her baggy clothes. Her arm and the side of her stomach stung where they had punctured her skin in order to inject her with the treatment. The world was spinning, and she felt as if she were about to vomit.

She certainly did not feel super.

On the way out, she gave the receptionist an accusatory look, like, “why didn’t you keep me from doing this?”

The receptionist looked back at her blankly and shrugged as if to say, “I told you so.”

Margie stepped out of the clinic’s battered, dingy door into the afternoon sun. Why oh why had she done this? This place was clearly unscrupulous! What on earth made her think a legitimate clinic could be in such a state of disrepair?!

Margie hailed a ride-share and prepared for her miserable trip home. Dylan would definitely be upset at her if she put on even more weight, as she was sure to do after this whole botched plan. And her ungrateful daughter, standards warped by superwomen, would be sure to tear into her.

Margie cringed as she imagined the whole thing playing out in her mind.

Day 2 (cont.)

Daphne pulled up to the clinic after school, just barely missing her mother in a stranger’s car making her way home. She walked into that same fateful clinic and greeted the receptionist.

“Diagnosis? Or treatment?” the receptionist asked.

“Diagnosis.”

The receptionist pushed over a clipboard full of papers.

“Huh. You look familiar,” she commented.

“Me? We’ve never met,” Daphne answered as she scanned the document, barely reading any of it.

“Yeah, suppose not. Weird deja vu.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Daphne signed.

“The doctor will be with you shortly.

Margie staggered her way to the front door of their house and unlocked it. She didn’t even make it to their bedroom. She flopped onto the cloth couch in their living room with unhidden relief and passed out cold.

Dylan and Daphne arrived back home at about the same time to find Margaret snoring thunderously.

“MOM! Good lord! Wake up! I think the entire neighborhood can hear you!”

“Margie…” Dylan shook his wife’s shoulder. She really could have roused the dead.

“Huh? Wha?” Margie awoke with a start. Her vision was strangely sharp, her mind clear.

“Come on, dear. The chiropractor really did a number on you, huh?” Dylan comforted her.

“Mom! What about dinner?!” Daphne protested churlishly.

“Daphne. Be nice to your mother for once. We’ll order something.”

“Tch. Fine. But I like Mom’s cooking.”

“I know, dear. We all do.”

Dylan wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist and carefully assisted her to their bedroom. She seemed somehow… lighter. Her waistline trimmer, her midsection firmer. Were those abs!?

Must have been a good chiropractor, he thought to himself. Maybe I should schedule more appointments for Margie.

As Dylan and Daphne ordered their double pepperoni pizza, Margie was lying in bed, whole body shuddering with chills despite being completely wrapped up under the covers. Her limbs felt weak, her heart thumping in her chest.

Then suddenly, the pain intensified.

Margie wanted to scream, but nothing came out. Her throat seemed to seize up. Curse that clinic! She knew the treatment could go wrong and make her even fatter, but they didn’t say anything about fucking dying!

As she shivered in mortal fear of her life, her body began to change underneath the blankets.

Day 3

Margaret awoke, feeling her pulse pounding in her skull. Half of her brain radiated an acute pain, as if she were having a migraine. Her skin was clammy, arms and legs so weak that she could barely move.

She wanted to cry out in pain, but it was still dark outside, and Dylan was sleeping. And what would she say anyway? “Honey, I thought I’d try and be a superwoman, but instead I spent money on something that makes me feel like death?”

She clutched her head, curled up into a little ball, and waited an eternity for sleep to overtake her once again.

“Honey? Honey?” Dylan roused her.

Margaret groaned. It felt like she had no rest at all!

“It’s 7:00 AM. Breakfast time for me and Daphne, right?”

“Ugh… okay…”

Margaret wobbled out of bed, stuck her feet into her fuzzy slippers, and put on her thick glasses. The world spun. Her vision was still blurry. She rubbed her eyes, feeling the throbbing pain as she pressed into them, hoping to somehow excise it with just the pressure of her fingers.

Moaning, she took off her spectacles and rested her forehead on her hand. It… actually seemed to help. She could see the regular pattern on the rug more sharply without her visual aid than with. Placing them back on the bed stand with a shrug, she made her way to the kitchen.

“God, Mom! What the hell is wrong with you? I have to go to school already, and you didn’t even make me and Dad breakfast!”

“Now dear, be nice to your mother,” Dylan chastised his daughter unconvincingly, as usual.

“Whatever, Dad! You can’t be happy either! Mom doesn’t, like, do anything! She has one job, and she can’t even do that right! Look how much she’s let herself go, she spends all day at home, she’s not good enough for you! I don’t know what you see in her...”

“Daphne, that’s enough.” Dylan hushed his daughter.

But he didn’t rebut her statements. He merely continued drinking his watery, flavorless instant coffee since Margaret hadn’t brewed any of the good stuff for them this morning. Thinly veiling his disappointment in his aging wife, he took Daphne to school and prepared for his long work day.

Wait till I show Mom what makes a woman actually powerful, Daphne thought to herself. I took the time to research this virus, I put in the effort to contract it, and once it ultimately works, I’ll be just like Super Alice. I’ll own the high school, I’ll be able to do whatever I want with any boy ever… I’ll be unstoppable!

Daphne spent the entire ride surfing on a wave of bliss in her daydreams.

Meanwhile, Margaret shed a tear as she suffered her daughter’s abuse and her husband’s neglect. She went back to the bedroom mirror and examined herself. She must look like death! She certainly felt like it.

To her shock, her eyes seemed to have changed color! They had turned from a dull brown to a light hazel. Her skin wasn’t nearly as pallid and sallow as she imagined. In fact, she looked fine. Why did she feel so god damn awful?

She went to the bathroom and weighed herself on the scale. The digital readout was five pounds lighter. Five pounds, in the span of a week! And she certainly hadn’t been on a diet or exercise. Did she really lose five pounds just from the treatment yesterday?

Too exhausted to think about it, Margaret crawled back under the covers and went to sleep. Nobody was around to notice that she was floating an inch off the bed while she slumbered, breathing softly and regularly. Unbeknownst to her, her brain was busy at work, siphoning off all her energy as her neural pathways expanded, growing more efficient as well as powerful...

Day 4

Margaret awoke as the sun was rising. She gasped. She’d slept through the entire day! Dylan was asleep beside her. What had they eaten for dinner? She felt guilty about not providing the last two meals for her family. Daphne for sure would have something to say about it in the morning.

More than adequately rested now, Margaret got up and headed to the mirror once more. To her surprise, she had no trouble seeing in the darkness! And was it just her, or did her body look a bit better? The extra fat was melting away from her belly, and her skin just seemed tanner… healthier. And the eyes that were piercing through the veil of darkness… a deep, vibrant shade of green. And she still wasn’t wearing her glasses!

Not wanting to be derelict in her duties again, Margaret went to the kitchen and began to whip up a feast as penance for yesterday. Sizzling bacon, a pot of their finest roast coffee, eggs prepared three ways to perfection, and a stack of silver dollar pancakes awaited both Dylan and Daphne.

Daphne woke first and stomped her way into the kitchen.

“Good morning, dear! I cooked a lot for you!”

“MOM! You know I can’t sleep when you wake up that early and start cooking! It’s so loud! And the smell is way too distracting!”

Dylan was making his way into the kitchen as well. Unlike his daughter, he was happy to see the feast.

Margaret had the beautifully plated breakfast platter in her hands, preparing to serve her ungrateful daughter. A vein appeared in her forehead as she trembled in rage. Her eyes began to glow ominously.

“Daphne. I’ve cooked a really nice meal for you this morning, and I will cook another one for you this evening. You will appreciate it and enjoy it.”

Daphne’s unwarranted anger evaporated in an instant. She repentantly slid her way into the dining chair and lowered her eyes.

“Yes Mom,” she replied.

Dylan and Margaret both gasped in shock. They’d never seen Daphne respond with obedience before! Usually it just escalated from there. Was this some sort of ploy? Malicious compliance?

But no. Daphne ate her delicious meal in silence.

“Mom, are your eyes… different today?” Daphne finally asked, after she’d finished obeying her mother’s command.

“No dear,” Margaret’s eyes glowed once again. “I’m sure it’s just a reflection of the light.”

“Reflection of the light…” Daphne droned.

Dylan and Daphne headed out the door for their normal respective days.

Still angry at her daughter’s outburst, head throbbing with raging pain, Margaret stared at the empty seat that Daphne had vacated. Focusing on nothing in particular, she went to clear the dishes. Daphne’s half-filled coffee cup rattled at the edge of the table from Margaret’s rage before tumbling to the floor, exploding in a shard of brown liquid and glass shards.

“Oh hell,” Margaret sighed, thinking she’d clumsily knocked the table as she was reaching for the empty plates.

She carefully cleaned up the mess and picked up the larger shards, throwing it all away before running the vacuum to suck up the small pieces.

Margaret prepared a cheesy, saucey lasagna for dinner. Despite feeling better, the constant stress and worry of all the terrible things that could happen to her from the treatment made her feel psychosomatically ill. She nearly burnt the evening meal as she tossed a fresh salad, sitting idly and nibbling on some cherry tomatoes. Perhaps she wouldn’t become morbidly obese like the other girls who had undergone the treatment incorrectly. No, considering her rapid weight loss, perhaps she would wither away like an anorexic girl, all skin and bones, collapsing under her own fragile body.

When Dylan and Daphne got home, Margaret pulled the baked pasta out of the oven and served up three helpings, with a triple serving for herself.

“Geez Mom! Leave some for the rest of us!” Daphne barked.

But Margaret just scarfed it down, dabbed her mouth with a napkin, and went straight to bed.

Little did she know, the treatment had finished rewiring her mind. Now, the dramatic, outwardly visible improvements were coming.

Day 5

That night, hovering above the bed twitching in fitful, fevered dreams, Margaret’s trembling, bandy legs extended, lengthening and straightening under the cover of the bedsheets, feeling strangely warm as they grew sleeker and sexier. Her calves were so elegantly long, the swells of muscles so athletic and feminine. Her tanned thighs too, both larger and firmer, quads and hamstrings packed with power, polished and curvaceous, no longer spotted by veins or stretch marks, yearning to be touched and squeezed. The gentle sound of fabric rubbing against her new smooth, permanently clean shaven legs felt somehow… electrifying.

Her body groaned in relief and burgeoning, intensifying arousal as her hips creaked, turning her previously pencil-shaped body into a beautifully curved marvel to behold. Her child-bearing hips positively flared outward, giving her newly firm thighs a beautiful gap. Fertility goddesses from every culture would hail Margaret’s lower body as the ideal symbol of health and femininity. Her pubic mound was bare and smooth, fragrant and inviting, warm and soft as velvet yet tight and impenetrable as steel under her powerful, precise control.

Her butt packed on firm spheres of muscle as well, actually becoming a hyper-sexy cushion for her new, improving body. Wonderfully tight, just the right size, like a fitness model, her tight rear physically lifted her lower back off the bed, emphasizing Margaret’s sensual arch.

The transformation continued up her body, her pudgy love handles melting away leaving trim, svelte muscles and taut, tantalizing skin. Combined with the flared slopes of her fluid hips, her waist in contrast was so tiny! Her obliques and abs flexed hard as her body received its wonderful gift, a wonderful, subtle six-pack emphasizing her newly flat tummy, like the prized gem on an already expensive crown. As she flexed her body, they crunched into full view, strong and proud. Her legs writhed in pleasure. Her pussy trembled and flexed along with her clenching body.

But it wasn’t over yet.

Margaret sucked in a deep breath, well synchronized to the expansion of her modest bosom. Even while lying down in midair, those mounds of sensual, feminine flesh surged ever upwards, ignoring, nay, positively shunning the presence of gravity. Large, firm orbs stretched her baggy shirt to its limits, her nipples growing larger and stiffer, scraping against the fraying threads of her suddenly too-tight top.

Those spheres, firm and ripe like in her youth, yet so, so much larger, defied all logic. So incredibly large, her nipples pink, pronounced, and perky, placed perfectly on that mountain of tanned, delectable, salacious flesh. They longed, ached, begged to be caressed, her nipples radiating tingles of erotic desire as they rubbed against the texture of her cloth top.

So Margaret did just that. As she brought her arms up, underneath her propped up crop top, those limbs firmed and tightened as well. Her upper arms lost all hint of extra, saggy flesh, her biceps and triceps gaining strong, sleek definition. Strong, visible, yet still undeniable feminine. The envy of all models, fitness or otherwise. They lengthened as well, in perfect proportion to her extra legginess. Her fingers grew slender, her digits more delicate, adorned with beautiful, permanently manicured, razor sharp nails. The tiny burn marks on her hands from years of cooking faded away, scars vanishing, leaving only soft skin relegated to royalty who never had to work a day of labor in their lives.

She flailed her arms in jerky motions as her body continued to morph, unbeknownst to her. Her manicured, dainty fingernails became gleaming and razor sharp as she unconsciously slashed deep gouges into the wooden headboard with just a tiny sweep of her hands. And even as she scarred the old furniture, her own hands and beautiful talons remained absolutely pristine.

Her new fingers traced along the outrageous slopes of her new, tanned mounds, her thumbs and index and middle fingers gripping the underside of her swollen bounty and squeezing. Even with her digits’ new length, she could barely wrap around those enormous swells!

Her fingers continued their gentle glide, her nails carving a trail of ecstasy up her gravity defying, mind-bendingly sexy chest. Margaret pinched her nipples, finally giving voice for the first time since crawling into bed. Beneath her half-lidded eyes, her vision filled with stars as she moaned huskily in deep, yearning arousal. Her nipples were so unbelievably sensitive! Ever harder she pinched, twisting and tugging at those aching peaks, toes curling at the earth-shattering sensation she could deliver unto herself now.

Margaret sucked in another deep breath, filling her new powerful lungs to the brink. Her mind was blank with lust, her nerves firing on all cylinders sending pleasure coursing down her spine and radiating all the ways to the tips of her fingers and toes.

The air was thick with Margaret’s new, oppressive scent, her improved and irresistible sex leaking her musky, sweet-smelling juice.

But it wasn’t over yet.

Margaret didn’t have any time to seek relief. Her body was still paralyzed by erotic electricity even as her face, contorted into a grimace of sheer, absolute pleasure, began to change. Her lips filled out with luscious flesh, the chapped, dry skin falling away. Her new, dark red cupid-bow lips curled in pleasure as her thick, pink tongue traced over those soft, plump folds.

Her cheeks radiated health and vitality, her eye sockets widening and emphasizing her glowing, sparkling bright white eyes. Her hazel pupils began to blaze turning a solid green, strikingly mesmerizing, looking as though backlit. Margaret’s dark eyelashes grew longer, eyebrows thicker and denser, her skin satiny smooth and even. No sign of pores, no blemishes, just glowing, tanned acres of flesh.

Finally, her mousy brown bun grew out even longer, her tresses thicker and vibrant. The color of her new, lustrous strands of hair began to shimmer, changing color at their deep roots from a fading grey back into a deep, rich, shimmering brown, restoring it to even brighter and more glorious than when she was a child. Each auburn lock grew out longer, curling into beautiful ringlets as it traveled the long distance down her strong, sinuous back, never stopping until they reached her marvelous waist.

When it was all over, Margaret was nearly unrecognizable. A strong, muscular, taller, far improved version of her youthful self, so wonderfully seductive and heartbreakingly irresistible that she could stop men in their tracks with but a come-hither look from her seductive gaze.

At that moment, Dylan quietly opened the door and made his way to their bedroom after having his fill of cheap pizza.

“Margaret? You okay?” he whispered.

“Dylan. We need to fuck. Tuesday is our sex day. We haven’t done it in too long.”

“Margaret!? Are you sure? You seemed pretty out of it before…”

The light was off. He hadn’t seen her in the darkness yet, but Margaret could see him just fine. As clear as day.

“Yes, Dylan. I’m sure.”

Her body felt alive, thrumming with energy. She slid out of bed and strutted up to him confidently, quite unlike herself. Their eyes met for the first time.

“M-Margie?!”

Was this really his wife!? How was she standing eye to eye with him!?

She reached out and wrapped her arms around his body. She was so strong! And her body was like warm, sculpted steel! And the scent wafting off her body, the feel of her skin rubbing against his...

He was rock hard, like he’d never known. Not even when they first met.

“Dylan, I can feel your little guy rubbing against me down there. So are we gonna fuck, or what?”

She pressed her lips to his gently, her aphrodisiacal kiss sending his heart rate soaring. She dragged her nails down his torso, raking his skin with long red slashes, marking her ownership of him before slicing his underwear into little pieces.

“Unnng! Yes! Yes!” he eagerly agreed, his body completely under her control.

It was Tuesday, after all.

Day 6

Daphne woke up tired and grumpy. God, Mom and Dad had been having sex last night. And for fucking ever too! When was the last time they even did it, let alone this fucking loudly!?

She’d put in her earbuds and turned up the music, but the sound of her mom’s voice moaning and grunting was somehow far too overpowering. And really amped up too. Her purring and cooing sounded like some sort of porn star!

Gross!

Stomping around in her room and throwing her belongings in her backpack, she regarded the posters of super Alice once more. The clinic better have some good news for her this morning. She’d gone through too much trouble tracking down Annie and finding opportunities to do shit like drink from her water bottle and lick her goddamn sandwich wrappers and shit. But it would all be worth it.

When she got to the kitchen, she was completely gobsmacked. Not by the fact that her father had the biggest, stupidest smile on his face. Not because he had his arm wrapped around her mother, swaying and dancing like nobody was watching. No, she was stunned by the sight of her mother alone.

Margaret was still dressed in her typical clothes, but why did they look so baggy? Did her mom somehow buy another set of her exact same clothes in a larger size!?

No… she was taller too! The balled muscles of her calves were clearly visible, and her muscular rear was on full display, bulging against her normally loose sweatpants.

And her hair! So long, so vibrant, and marvelously curled. And where did she get all this height!? Was she just standing up straight now?

“Thanks for breakfast, honey!” Dylan laughed as he openly fondled her.

“Gross! Mom! Dad! Knock it off!” Daphne quickly interrupted.

“Oh Daphne dear, your breakfast is on the table.” A plate of scrambled eggs, two pieces of crispy bacon, and a pancake awaited her.

“Mom! I told you, I’m not eating carbs… whoa… uh…”

Daphne lost her train of thought as Margaret turned around to look at her. As beautiful as her mother’s muscles and new body were, there was no denying the absolute splendor of her perfect, heart-shaped face. It was like looking at an angel.

“Oh, sorry dear! You can just leave it for me.”

“Um, yeah, thanks Mom…”

“Now there’s my good, respectful daughter!” Dylan praised.

“Oh Dylan honey, would you be so kind as to come home earlier this evening? I have… plans… for us,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“But Margie, you know Wednesday nights I go out with the guys. It’s business, you know. Some of the Japanese managers who are here insist on going out for drinks. That’s just how they operate.”

“I’d really like it if you came home instead, for once,” Margie insisted. Her shimmering green eyes glowed even more luminescent as she placed her request gently, but firmly, right into Dylan’s vulnerable mind.

He stuttered for a moment, about to raise another protest. Dylan enjoyed the alcohol-saturated work gatherings with his native Japanese co-workers, but something about Margie’s request… an image of going to the local Yakiniku restaurant on the company’s bill and drinking lots of imported beer and sake slowly wilted away and evaporated into nothingness.

“Su-sure thing, Margie. I’ll come home right after work,” Dylan replied, before he had even realized what his mouth was saying.

“Yay!”

Daphne watched in awe as Margaret jumped with joy. She couldn’t believe how easily her mother had talked her father out of his favorite night of the week. Nor could she handle the sight of her mother’s firm, jutting breasts, her full cleavage and tanned, luscious skin on display. Or the fact that they hardly bounced at all from her mother’s excited movements.

Could she have… no way… could her mother have somehow…?

“Daphne dear, you better hurry up and eat. Otherwise you’re going to be late for school.” Margaret brought her will to bear upon Daphne as well.

“I… ung… not hungry,” Margaret blurted out, instinctively rebelling against her mother’s well-meaning wishes. But it was hard! How was her mother somehow so inexplicably persuasive?

“Oh, okay then. And by the way, you got some of your history homework wrong. The Reign of Terror was in 1793, and the guillotine was actually not very effective at beheading royals, despite their design claims.”

“Wha… how did you know?” Daphne asked, flabbergasted.

“I saw it right there in your history book. It’s clear as day, really. Page 151 and 160.”

“You… you read it?”

“Yes, dear. Just this morning. I was curious.”

Daphne looked at the dense, text-filled page. In disbelief, she verified what her mother had said as she slowly leafed through the pages. Then, she rubbed out her incorrect answers and scribbled it back in.

“You’re welcome, dear.”

Daphne grit her teeth. No way. No way is my mom a super now. I better get good test results, fast.

Dylan dropped Daphne off at Littlerock High and left for work. She met Jess in their first homeroom period.

“Heya bitch!” Jess greeted her friend.

“Hey.”

“Whoa, what’s wrong Daph? Got bad news from the clinic?”

“No, it’s not that. I don’t wanna talk about it. ...Hey, did you drive to school today?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Take me to the clinic during lunch, will you? If I don’t hear back from these quacks soon...”

Daphne spent the whole day checking her phone surreptitiously while trying to avoid being caught by her teachers. With no news, she demanded that Jess take her to the clinic.

They had no updates for her, either on the phone or in person.

Daphne gritted her teeth as Jess groused about their wasted trip. Maybe she should just go through with the procedure? ...No, that was far too risky. She was already fairly beautiful and popular. She could wait. No sense ruining the next however many years of her life like fat, stupid Annie.

At least the teenage beauty had her hooks in a boy she’d had her eyes on for a while. She could work on Blake and bring him home after school. He was practically dangling off her finger already! A hot guy would help take her mind off of things.

Margaret stayed at home, marveling at her newly enhanced senses. She could feel ethereal threads of connection between herself and the vitality of every blade of grass, every tree, and every bird in their immediate vicinity. Hell, she could even feel a strange, intangible connection between herself and inanimate objects, like Daphne’s uneaten pancake!

Experimentally, Margaret flexed her new mental muscles that she never knew she had. The pancake, the fork, the entire plate began to wobble violently, rotating on the table before sliding right off the edge!

Margaret groaned as she pictured the impending mess she would have to clean up. Please, stop falling!

And just like that, the fork, the pancake, the plate, all froze in midair. She gasped. Looking outside the kitchen window, she could still see leaves blowing in the wind and could still hear the rush of traffic on their little suburban block. Only those three items in her kitchen remained unmoving.

Slowly, gingerly, Margaret squinted her eyes as she imagined those three objects flying back up to the table. And so they did. The breakfast plate climbed back up onto the table, pancake off center, the crumbs and dregs of bacon and eggs even scraped into a neat little pile, just as Margie’s little compulsions demanded.

“I… I can… wow!” If her hyper-fit body weren’t already a dead giveaway, Margie knew for sure now. The treatment had worked beyond her wildest dreams. “Not even Super Alice can do things like this, can she!?”

Margie immediately tried to whisk all of the dishes into the sink and turn on the faucet, but the mental effort required to manipulate so many objects so finely gave her a pounding headache. She quickly “put” everything back down and fell to the floor, heaving in deep breaths.

“Okay, one thing at a time…”

She went into their home’s long forgotten attic to pull up the blueprints. It was time to re-examine the architectural design and put some of her prior architect training, which she could suddenly recall with crystal clarity, to good use.

Blake, a tall, handsome, well sought over target at school, drove Daphne home in his ten year old Beemer. It was the envy of most of the seniors in his class with its fresh paint job and retro light brown leather seats. Daphne smiled at her little triumph, even if the clinic hadn’t texted her with any good news yet.

“Okay to park in the driveway?” he asked as he pulled up to their modest home.

“Yeah, that’s fine. My dad always comes home late on Wednesdays…” Daphne drifted off.

“Daph? You okay?”

“Shit. Yeah, park on the street.” She’d just recalled how Mom had somehow persuaded him to come home early so effortlessly. They’d still have a few hours before he came home, probably.

“So, you wanna do some… homework?” Daphne licked her lips as she regarded him. “We can go to my room.”

Blake’s eyes bulged out of their sockets as the hormone raging pair walked up to the door. Daphne unlocked it, and as they stepped past the threshold, the vision of Margaret in a casual short skirt and crop top violently slammed both teenagers right in their libidos.

She was breathtaking. Moderately large, tanned slopes of delectable cleavage on display thanks to her incredibly perky breasts and far too tight crop top, and the swish of the hem of her skirt drawing attention to her strong thighs and fit calves, all topped off with a pair of wedge sandals that made long legs look even longer…

“Oh Daphne! You’re home already! Did this young gentleman give you a ride?”

Margaret’s pearly white teeth and bright smile only served to intensify Blake’s discomfort, and therefore Daphne’s as well.

“M-m-m-m-ma’am…” Blake wasn’t sure how to address this paragon of beauty. And since when did Daphne have a hot, bodybuilder older sister?

“Mom, um, yeah, this is Blake,” she managed.

“Oh Blake! It’s nice to meet you! You two are friends?”

Blake gulped and nodded, not risking some incoherent reply. Daphne’s mother!?

“Would you two like some fruit salad? I’m preparing one right now,” she asked, the floating knife carving off orange peels in the kitchen hidden from view.

“No Mom, we have to study,” Daphne tried to end this conversation quickly, lest Blake begin to drool.

“Th… that would be nice,” he countered, eager to stay within eyeshot of Daphne’s mother.

Daphne scowled.

“Lovely! Why don’t you have a seat out here in the living room? I’ll bring you a bowl and some forks.”

The teenage pair sat down on the couch where Margaret had collapsed that day after her clandestine visit to the clinic. Blake fingered his stiff erection through his pockets as he adjusted his pants, trying to be subtle. He failed.

Daphne scowled as her mother brought out a bowl of delicious, vibrant, colorful fruit. Watermelon and cantaloupe cubes, apple slices and strawberry quarters… if she weren’t such a damn good cook, maybe Daphne could have come up with some excuse to drag Blake away from this… this siren!

Margaret leaned over, giving both of them a deep, long look at the irresistible valley of her mesmerizing bosom.

No, there was no way Daphne could have torn Blake away from this. He began to drool, and not from the mix of sweet fruits. Or, perhaps more specifically, due to two, very large, very ripe ones.

“Okay thanks Mom we’re gonna go study!”

Daphne grabbed the bowl with one hand and Blake with another, forcibly dragging him along.

“Be good, dear!” Margaret called after them.

Blake huffed, seeking to relieve his straining erection. Daphne shut the door closed behind them as she pushed him in.

“Wow, you really like Alice huh?” he panted as he looked at all the posters.

“Of course! Who doesn’t!” Daphne was completely open about it.

“You know, I think there are some normal women who are just as pretty as her.”

“No way! Like who?”

“Um, like yo… nobody. It was a stupid thing to say. Hey Daph… can I use your bathroom?”

“Yeah, right over there,” she pointed to her own private one.

“Oh, uh, no… I wouldn’t want to use a girl’s bathroom… do you have a more public one in the house somewhere?”

“Just go outside and left down the hall, first door on the right.”

Blake hurriedly made his way out, hoping to catch another glimpse of Margaret. No such luck, but he hardly needed it. His mind swirled with fantasies of being trapped in Margaret’s cleavage, sucking on her breasts, and inserting himself in between those tanned, toned thighs… He locked the bathroom door behind him, and within seconds, ejaculated into the pot.

He went back to Daphne’s room, finally relieved of his burning erection.

Daphne threw herself at him and began to aggressively kiss him, shoving her tongue into his mouth as she began to rub his fading erection through his jeans.

“Mmmf! Daphne!” he pushed her back.

“What? You don’t want to do homework?” she whispered hotly into his face.

“Umm… I’m really flattered… I’m just… look, can we do it next time? I swear, I’m interested. Really! I just… have a thing,” he offered lamely.

“What!?”

“Yeah, it’s a guy thing. Next week?”

“Ugh. Fine.”

As they lay in Daphne’s bed watching videos on DoobTube, Blake’s heart pounded in excitement at being able to visit and potentially see Margaret again.

Day 6 (cont.)

“Daphne! You still have to call the Garretts to apologize,” Margaret lectured her daughter sternly.

“I already did!” Daphne whined.

Margaret’s eyes narrowed. She probed the surface of Daphne’s mind, easily unraveling the paper thin lie.

Daphne recoiled. Her mother’s gaze was so scary! She could feel her indignation and insistence on the lie wilting away, like a smoldering piece of paper blackening and crumpling up into ash. Just from her mother’s glowing eyes!

“Uh… I mean, I meant to do it. I… I was gonna do it right away. I swear…” Daphne backpedaled.

“That’s a good girl, dear. Why don’t you go do it now?”

“Yes Mom…”

Dylan came in through the front door as Daphne retreated to her room to make the phone call. Margaret knew she wouldn’t be shirking her duties this time.

“Dylan honey! I’m so glad you’re home!”

“Hey Margie. I… really wanted to go out with the Japanese managers tonight for drinks. I know I said I’d come right home, and I did, but… is it okay if I stop by at the restaurant? Just for a short while to say hi?”

He was practically begging his wife for permission. He’d never had to beg her for anything before!

But Margaret had different ideas.

She already knew the effect that her sexy, athletic body had on Blake. In fact, she was strangely proud of it. To reduce a boy, even if they were just eighteen and raging with hormones, into surreptitious masturbation from right under her daughter’s nose… oh, the feeling of flippant domination was just too good!

It was time to try it on Dylan.

“Are you sure, Dylan?” she asked, the undertone of her voice laced with a current of desire. “Wouldn’t you rather spend it with… me?”

She leaned forward, pressing her arms to her sides and magnifying the incredible swells of her breasts in her little sundress.

Dylan gasped in pure, unadulterated lust. If his physical reaction weren’t obvious enough, Margie could sense all of his thoughts. And they were entirely focused on her now.

She twirled and flipped up the hem of her skirt, exposing her rounded, muscular derriere to him, looking back over her shoulder with a little smile. Oh, she hadn’t played this sort of flirty game since… ever!

And now, she was damn good at it. Better than anyone in the history of seduction. Dylan dropped his briefcase and hurriedly ran over to embrace his wife, his rock hard reaction grinding against the warm, steely hard spheres of her ass.

Margaret laughed as her husband carried her to the bedroom, her sonorous voice ringing in his ears. She helped him out discreetly with her telekinesis, levitating herself ever so slightly to ease the burden off of Dylan. He’d need the energy later.

She smirked as they passed her daughter’s bedroom door, overhearing the contrite conversation she was having with the Garretts.

Dylan grasped and groped at Margie’s perfect body as they made their way into the dark bedroom. Margaret closed the door behind them with a little nudge of her mind, blotting out the lit hallway.

Dylan was humping like a teenage boy, pressing his body as hard as he possibly could into Margaret’s. He loved the feel of her hard, sculpted back, her trim waist contrasted with her rock hard abs, the feel of his rock hard member grinding against her dense thighs while feeling the moist heat of her smooth sex. His unbelievably sexy blonde wife wasn’t even wearing underwear!

In fact, he was on the verge of orgasm just from humping her perfect body!

“Ah ah ah, now Dylan,” she whispered at him, his face buried in her neck, humping and grinding mindlessly. “That’s not how you satisfy a woman…”

Margie applied just a tiny bit of her will, and Dylan’s entire body ceased its repetitive grinding.

“Mar… Margie!? I can’t move!” Dylan spoke into her neck, too hopelessly aroused from her sweet scent to realize exactly what was happening to him.

And Margaret made sure that he wouldn’t.

“Don’t worry about it dear,” she responded.

And then he didn’t. He continued to focus on his budding arousal, his loins burning and aching to unload already. His rigid shaft was quivering, already on the verge of release! Even without moving!

“Tsk tsk, Dylan,” Margaret chided him. Bringing her powers to bear, she ceased his imminent ejaculation right at its source.

“Mmmmm!” Dylan shouted audibly. “Margie! I… can’t…!”

“Can’t what? Speak?” Margie slammed his jaw shut, preventing all noises except pure, desperate muffled cries of agony and ecstasy. “We don’t want our daughter to hear now, do we?”

She drifted away from her helpless husband, enjoying her total mastery over his helpless body. His arousal was purely under the spell of her beauty, but his release… that was under the complete control of her mind. Margaret drifted away from him as he remained rooted on the spot, still fully dressed, his larger-than-ever boner tenting his pants.

She put on a show for his feasting eyes, the only part of him that she allowed movement. Wiggling her hips, she grabbed the high hem of her dress swishing at her bulky thighs and pulled it up, revealing acres of perfect, feminine flesh, one devastatingly erotic part at a time.

The petals of her pink flower were already swollen, dripping their sweet nectar. Her midsection, packed with well-defined abdominals and sleek obliques, the envy of any fitness model.

And in spite of her incredibly fit physique, her breasts were so large, so unabashedly proud, their spherical slopes jutting outward arrogantly in defiance of gravity. Her beautifully tanned, smooth skin was adorned by a pair of dark chocolate areola, the stiff peak of her nipples looking like the sweetest treat Dylan had ever seen.

Dylan moaned as he somehow surged even harder.

“You like me like this, don’t you?” Margaret teased, reveling in her total mastery over him.

“Mmm!” he tried to affirm.

His plaid button down shirt began to untuck itself from his slacks. Margaret’s control wasn’t quite fine enough yet, so she simply shred the buttons from his top and pulled her husband’s arms back, sliding off his shirt and lifting his white undershirt over his head.

Meanwhile, she unlatched his black slacks and undid the zipper, giving his shaking, turgid erection a nice mental squeeze. They fell down his legs, pooling at his ankles. The flexible band of his boxers slid down, and Margaret let it drag along the entire impressive length of his leaking erection, torturing him with the wonderful stimulation before his large member sprang out, standing at full attention.

“Come here, honey. Satisfy me the way only you can…” Margaret purred at him, lifting his body off the floor to hover over her as she lay down in bed. She traced the back of her nails over his turgid rod, making sure not to cut into sensitive flesh.

“How are you…”

“Shh, don’t worry about it, baby. Just look at my body and let all your concerns melt away. All you want to do is come. So badly. It’s all you can think about, isn’t it?”

Dylan’s eyes slammed shut as he struggled to buck his hips. Just the mere thought was enough to set him off his release… if he’d been allowed to.

Margaret maneuvered him on top of her, resting his chest to hers. They remained firm and perky, not flattening at all, holding him aloft as they stared into each others’ eyes. He could feel the warmth of her body, the scent of her lust-inducing perfume invading his senses and driving him wild. The soft scraping of their bedsheets against her shifting legs as she spread those long, alluring limbs to allow him entry into her tight canal.

Slowly, languidly, Margaret forced his hips forward, brushing the hyper-sensitive head of his overworked penis against her wet folds, lubricating them fully. She pumped his shaft with her telekinesis as she simultaneously maneuvered his body up and down, rubbing him against her soft yet steely sex.

Dylan’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as another groan caught deep in his throat. Tears formed in his eyes from Margaret’s brutal torture. His balls were so tight, his pleasure so intense!

“Need a little relief?” Margaret asked gently.

Dylan would have nodded had he been able. Instead, he was all locked up, frozen, unable to speak, begging for mercy from his supernatural wife.

“Well… it’s not Tuesday today, is it?” Margaret barely suppressed a cackle.

His desperation was palpable.

“Okay, okay, let me help you out, just this once…”

Margaret released her lock on him as she continued to caress just the tip of his penis against her slick lips. He erupted all over her, still unable to move or moan. All he could do was endure mind-shattering levels of exploding ecstasy firing through his body, rope after rope, goaded on by an invisible hand pumping his shaft fiercely as another one gently massaged the tempestuous storm roiling in his burning loins.

After 30 seconds of pent up rage exploding out the tip of his penis, Dylan thought he would finally be released. But Margaret still kept him frozen in place, resting on her firm bosom, his iron still aligned with her nether lips.

She wasn’t done!

Margaret kept him hard, her invisible tendrils refusing to let him soften as she thrust him inside in one, fluid motion, burying him to the hilt and filling her up fully. Her wet velvet grip was so unearthly tight, he could barely stand it!

In and out, she pumped him. In and out, in and out, Margaret controlling him like a sex toy with a complete, serene smile on her face. He felt his body contorting in ways he never knew possible as Margaret used him to satisfy herself sexually in a way that he’d never been able to before.

Margaret closed her eyes in bliss as she used her husband to the limit. More than just her husband, the thought of her causing anyone and everyone to submit to her beauty, her power, nudging and guiding their actions with nothing but a thought, excited her in a way she never thought possible! Already Dylan was her little plaything, Daphne would never insult her again unless she allowed it, and Blake had already unloaded himself uncontrollably for her… oh, the thrill of turning anyone at all into a submissive little puppet was too much to withstand!

As she pumped Dylan in and out, nudging her own shockingly sensitive erogenous zones, she continued to lash at his member with her telekinetic power, caressing it with individual phantom fingers and flicks of of an ever present tongue, all while stroking him with her tight inner coils. The burning arousal in her new, superpowered body crescendoed to a climax that burst like fireworks, her body clenching and spasming in pure joy as she finally released her delicate control on Dylan.

He collapsed onto her perfect form, his desire-riddled body too weak to even move anymore. All he could feel was the hot squish of her canals massaging his penis as his wife shuddered violently in pleasure.

He couldn’t help himself.

He came inside of her, his aching loins already emptied, but his eruption no less violent than the first time. The sensation of her steely hard body, flexing and relaxing, forced every last drop out of him. His orgasm was unproductive as his frayed nerves continued to process the overwhelming pleasure Margaret forced it to endure.

“Ahhhh!” Margaret screamed, enjoying the revitalization of their sex life, and then some. She didn’t care if Daphne heard.

All of the portraits and furniture in the bedroom rattled as Margaret processed the torrent of pleasure that her new body was so capable of. After two minutes of what Daphne could’ve sworn was an earthquake, Margaret lay on the bed, flushed with sweat, panting heavily.

She rolled an unconscious Dylan off of her and went to sleep.

Day 7

Margaret awoke at the crack of dawn, feeling fully refreshed. She went to the mirror to check that everything that had happened yesterday wasn’t merely a dream. And the sight that greeted her absolutely shocked her.

If this was a dream, it was certainly a pleasant one. And long running as well. Her eyes were no longer a captivating hazel; no, they were downright mesmerizing, like glowing, shimmering jade, their inner shine positively strobing and hypnotic.

And not just her eyes. Everything about her was so much more subtly seductive, the languid movement of her limbs, the lascivious curves of her body as she swiveled her hips… Margaret gasped in lust at her own unbelievable image. Her voice was irresistible now, even to herself!

“Oh Dylan…” she climbed into bed and huskily moaned into his ear.

She was rewarded seeing the covers tent under his rising erection, even while he continued to slumber.

Lifting the covers off of him, she licked her lips as she took his rod into her mouth and began to suck in earnest…

Daphne awoke unrested and frustrated for the second day in a row. Her mom’s undeniably sexy moans last night were not conducive for rest. She tossed and turned, pillow over her head, trying to drown out the sound of those lusty purrs coming from her parents’ bedroom.

She stormed out of her room in the morning, steeling her resolve and planning to give her mom a piece of her mind, as she always had.

But she turned the corner to their modest kitchen and saw her mother.

First of all, what was she wearing!? Since when did her mom have clothes this sexy!? A sports bra showed off her mother’s sculpted, muscular back, and a pair of painted-on yoga pants emphasized the magnificent swells of her derriere. It also left all of her fully extended, long polished legs on display, bulging with well-defined muscle.

And the sound of her laughter, and the way her dad was looking! For once, he wasn’t staring into his laptop and brushing both of them off! He looked… he looked like he was the one desperate for attention!

“Mom, Dad, can you two stop having sex so loudly! It’s gross!” Daphne tried to make it as awkward as possible.

“Now dear,” Margaret turned her blazing emerald gaze upon Daphne.

The teen girl recoiled in sheer terror at her mother’s intimidating, luminescent stare.

“Your father and I are having a very healthy change in our sexual relationship. I am righting a ship that has sailed wrong for a very long time. Isn’t that right, Dillie?”

“Mm, god, yes, whatever you say, Margie! I’ll come right back home after work! Anything to spend more time with you!”

“Oh, that’s so sweet, darling! I didn’t even have to suggest it myself!” Margaret grinned triumphantly.

“Yes! Anything for you!”

If he had a tail, it would have been wagging furiously from Margaret’s little compliment.

“And Dylan, what do you think of our daughter’s suggestion?”

“Daphne, do not raise your voice at your mother again. Is that understood?” He declared sternly.

But it was impossible for Daphne to be any more intimidated or frightened than she already was. Her mother’s eyes, her incredible—no, perfect—body, her complete shift in behavior…

Daphne whimpered and nodded obediently.

Day 7 (cont.)

“Shit! Fuck! Fuck! GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!”

Daphne chucked her phone as hard as she could onto the linoleum floor. A large spider web cracked its way across her screen.

“Daph, yo, you really gotta calm down…” Jess tried.

“NO! FUCK! My mom turned into like… some sort of… um… control freak!” Daphne realized she’d better not speak too freely lest her mother exact some sort of revenge on her.

“Is that it? You’re so fucking spoiled, Daph. I mean, shit, I love you and don’t take this wrong the way, but…”

“The clinic finally got back to me! They fucking told me I had it! I’ve had it for like a whole WEEK! And now I’ve missed it!”

“Oh. Oh fuck, Daph. I’m really sorry.”

“I COULD’VE JUST DONE THE TREATMENT! FUCK!!”

All of the other tittering students backed away from the emotional meltdown taking place in Littlerock High’s hallways.

Daphne stared blankly at her broken phone. Utterly dejected and emotionally drained, a single tear ran down her cheek as she went to pick it up. It no longer worked.

“Fuck. I’m gonna sue them. Or something.”

“Come on Daph, let’s go to class…”

But Daphne just stood there listlessly in the hallway. Jess tugged at her arm, but eventually gave up and left her be.

Meanwhile, at home, Margaret was surrounded by a whirlwind of objects. No longer was it challenging for her to manipulate more than a few objects with her telekinesis; no, it was downright simple. While she sat in the living room with the home’s blueprints laid out in front of her, the kitchen was a whirlwind of activity, dirty dishes actively and efficiently being washed by hovering dish sponges as if in some sort of cartoon. She was admiring the new, second floor sketch she’d planned, as well as a whole landscaping project for their front and back yards. Something Dylan had always promised her, but never acted on.

All she needed now was materials to execute the remodel. And permission from the city, she supposed.

Two phone calls later, she had both. Rush delivery included, zero charge. Just a simple spoken request over the phone with a city hall employee cut through the red tape. They asked her for the specs and said they would send an inspector over to see that everything was up to regulation. Margaret assured them that it was and insisted they sign the papers.

So they did.

A similar call to the local hardware and lumber store, and they brought over all the materials she’d requested. Tens of thousands of dollars of material, all laid out neatly before them in the front and backyards of their home. She gave the delivery men a view of her ultra-luscious, irresistibly sexy body, clad only in some lingerie that she’d disassembled and reformed with her telekinesis. She didn’t even need to make any subconscious suggestions for them to follow. Her lust-inspiring, erection-inducing beauty left all of the workers in a happy, satisfied stupor, save for the uncomfortable bulges in their pants as they worked.

With a flick of her wrist, all of the lumber, metal sheeting, and steel beams floated into the air. The house’s walls came apart to make way for new construction. Nails long embedded into their home simply straightened and pulled out. Steel lined against steel and miraculously began welding together, glowing white hot from nothing but the power of Margaret’s mind!

And just as a personal touch, Margaret floated along the soon-to-be second story of the house and punched precise holes in the metal sheeting with naught but the manicured tip of her finger. As the building material assembled themselves, she levitated all of the screws and nails into place and languidly flitted from one to the next, twisting and pushing them in with her polished fingernails.

Before the day was over, their home had a beautiful second floor and a patio. All they needed now was furnishings. That task would be more suited for a visit in person.

And Margaret wanted to get the in person experience of seducing an entire store’s worth of employees and customers with nothing but her throwaway little smile. The thought of enthralling people in public and enslaving them into horny little puppets by merely giving them a glance of her cleavage made her pussy ache with desire.

It was only 2PM. She called Dylan and told him to come home, now.

He obeyed.

Blake found a dejected Daphne sitting on the hallway floor by her locker after the final bell for school range. He offered to take her home. She accepted with a sniffle. He was maybe the only thing positive in her life right now.

Daphne wasn’t watching the road as Blake drove. She was lifting her skirt up, trying to give Blake glimpses of her exposed thighs. Her hand crept along his leg and brushed as closely as she dared to his groin.

Blake pulled into the cul-de-sac, but seemed lost.

“Daph… you live here right? On Cooper Court?”

“Yes…” she purred as she boldly gave his burgeoning bulge another caress.

“I… I can’t find your house.”

“There’s only five houses in this little dead end street. What do you mean…”

Daphne’s speech halted as she looked up. Her home had literally doubled in size while she was at school!? And with an elegantly designed patio?!

In disbelief, the teenage pair walked up to Daphne’s new house. Her dad’s car was parked in the driveway. Had he finally gotten the construction done that Mom used to weakly whine about? No! This was impossible! All this, done in a few hours?!

The front door was still recognizable. Daphne inserted her key, and to her shock, it clicked open. She didn’t know what to expect.

But what she didn’t expect was to see her father floating in midair, upside down, his head buried in her naked mother’s perfect womanhood. Margaret’s eyes were ablaze with power.

“Oh Daphne, you’re home! Sorry, I lost track of time,” Margaret moaned as Dylan licked her sweet, pink folds.

“Mom!? Dad!?”

“Oh, you brought your friend? Hello Blake! Did you have a nice little jerkoff session for me after you got home as well?”

“Yes, Mrs. Morgan! It was the most intense orgasm I ever had in my life, just thinking about you!” He answered without hesitation.

“Blake!?” Daphne cried.

“Oh honey, Blake has been dying to see me again. He’d do anything for me. Isn’t that right, Blake?”

Margaret sent Dylan floating off to her bedroom, focusing all of her divine attention on her daughter’s little crush.

“Yes, Mrs. Morgan! It’s all I can do not to jerk off to you every minute of every day! Even now, you, you’re… you’re so beautiful! I can’t… unnnng…”

He whined with arousal, his voice cracking as the effect of her perfect beauty washed over him.

“Blake… Mom… you’re taking everything from me!” Daphne sobbed.

“So sorry, dear. I can’t help it now that I’m super. People just fall head over heels in love with me. You should consider yourself lucky that you can experience it in person! I know how much you worship Alice Midorikawa. Why not your mother, hmm?”

Daphne just stared in horror.

“It’s too bad this didn’t work out for you. I know how much you wanted this. I suppose you’ll be taking down those posters of Alice in your room, won’t you? As beautiful as she is, experiencing the real thing in person is just… a whole other experience, isn’t it?”

Blake moaned in agreement.

“Come here, Blake,” Margaret ordered, curling a finger.

Blake yelped as his feet left the floor. His t-shirt tore in half and fluttered away. Torso bare, he flailed helplessly as he floated toward his girlfriend’s mother in midair, never breaking eye contact with her long, toned legs, her more than ample, ripe, and firm bosom, and a face that could launch a million ships.

Margaret placed her hands on his shoulders, her new height outclassing even his relatively tall frame. She twisted him around so that he was facing Daphne. Pressing her breasts into his bare back, Margaret began to pump his member telekinetically, and spoke to them both.

“So what do you say, Blake? Would you rather be with Daphne? Or would you rather belong to me?” she whispered huskily.

“You! You! I choose you!” he cried out immediately.

“Mm, that’s a good boy.”

Two more hard pumps, and he flooded his pants with a loud, unmistakable groan. Right in front of Daphne.

“Blake! Mom… no!”

“Sorry honey. He’s made his decision.”

Margaret extended her long, lone index finger and dug her perfectly manicured nail into his chest. He winced in pain, but Margaret made sure to seal his wounds up just as soon as she’d carved into him. His flesh bled where her finger traced, then healed right back up.

When she was done, she’d branded him with a large, stylized M M on his chest.

“You like my mark?” she asked him.

Blake nodded eagerly. He wanted nothing but to be her property. All from just seeing her body!

Fittingly, Margaret began to use him as such.

“I wonder how you taste?” Margaret salivated at the sight of his significant bulge. She rotated them both so her daughter could get a good view as she sliced through his underwear with a swipe of her fingernails.

Daphne gasped at the surprisingly large, thick, cum-glistening cock. Despite having just ejaculated, he was still hard and twitching, all thanks to Margaret’s erotic mental massage and absolute domination over his body. She wanted to be the one to satisfy Blake, and to be satisfied!

But Margaret drove the knife in and twisted, casting a sidelong glance and a mischievous smirk at Daphne before opening her gorgeous lips wide and swallowing Blake whole.

The slick, firm pressure against his young, inexperienced cock was too much for Blake to bear! Margaret took his impressive length all the way to his base, never gagging, her tongue pressing the underside of his shaft so powerfully as it slithered back and forth, shattering his mind with earth-crushing ecstasy. He began to moan and thrash in midair, but apparently Margaret didn’t like it, and his jaw slammed shut as he went motionless.

Margaret’s perfect control boiled his simmering loins as she continued to bob back and forth over his entire length, her plump, fleshy lips goading his body to the brink once again. Pulling herself back so that she was only sucking at his tip, she looked up at her motionless puppet and gave him a little wink as she willed him to erupt.

And erupt he did.

Floating, quivering, helpless, he ejaculated powerfully into Margaret’s mouth as she swallowed it all down hungrily, aiding and intensifying his release with her own mental power.

Releasing him with a loud smack, Margaret licked her lips, still looking absolutely pristine, her green eyes aglow. She flung Blake onto the couch and finally released him from her invisible prison.

“Arrrgh!” Daphne threw her backpack at her mother who had taken everything that was supposed to be rightfully hers!

It froze in midair. Daphne tried to yell, but she found herself immobile as well. And then, a foreign invader drifted into her mind, probing her thoughts.

“Rightfully yours?” Margaret chuckled, levitating her frozen daughter before her newer height, meeting her eye to eye. Margaret’s pupils blazed a glowing green.

“After how you treated me? And how you would have treated me if you’d gotten what I did? I don’t think so, young lady!” Margaret chuckled. “Now be a good girl and go to your room. Why don’t you do some homework for a change?”

She brought her will to bear. Daphne recoiled in fright before her mother’s order settled in her mind, overriding all other thoughts and desires.

“Oh Daphne, I don’t think this is even the limit of what I can become! I wonder just how beautiful and powerful I’ll be when I wake up tomorrow. I can’t wait!”

Margaret flung Daphne and her backpack into Daphne’s room and locked the door shut with her mind. All the posters of Alice Midorikawa peeled off the wall before ripping into pieces before Daphne’s eyes.

She continued her ugly sobbing as she kneeled on the floor by her bed. Maybe if she hadn’t been such a bitch to her mom, even though she was right the whole time. Maybe if she hadn’t sought out this power, only to get usurped by her unambitious, undeserving mother…

An image of Margaret flashed in Daphne’s mind, laughing and mocking her mercilessly as she examined her razor sharp nails before taking a mental swipe right into her brain. Daphne gasped and recoiled, trembling in existential fear. Margaret merely continued to laugh at Daphne’s reaction and thoughts.

Yes, my stupid, ungrateful daughter. Keep trying to work out why this happened and how you could have prevented it. Were you right about my personality? My lack of ambition? Did I really deserve how you treated me? How righteous do you feel now that your mother has the power of a god, little mouse?

Daphne heaved in deep breaths as she sat on her bedroom floor.

Epilogue

As Margaret enjoyed her threesome with Blake and Dylan in the master bedroom, Daphne tore all the posters of Alice off her wall. Her mom was right. Posters, even of the irresistible, indomitable super Alice were a mere shade compared with seeing that kind of impossible perfection in the flesh.

But Daphne wouldn’t be beat. Her mother may be super now, but she’d always been a doormat. A wallflower. She still needed Daphne’s plan to ascend.

No. Daphne had a new plan now. She’d never seen powers like the ones her mother had manifested. There had to be others. Other girls, other powers.

She’d find a way. Someone who could rewind time. Or grant her powers.

Daphne would find a way.