by Phil Gabriel
“Screw the coven,” she said, looking me straight in the eye. “If they can’t handle the change, I’ll start a new coven. I want to be pretty!”
“OK,” I said, “let’s do it this way. I’ll make the changes I think are best for your appearance; if you don’t like them, I can change them again.”
At her nod of acceptance, I started. Pulling off the glasses that she soon wouldn’t need, I began. The pool of energy flowed through my hands, weaving a spell of regeneration. I saw her unfocused eyes try to follow the weaves, but between her missing glasses and the complexity, she finally gave up and closed her eyes.
Working from the inside out, I went through her core, eliminating toxins and cellular detritus that slowed down and aged her body. The heart was in poor shape, with thinned walls and hardened muscle fibers; I rejuvenated those. The lungs showed signs of attrition of the alveoli, which I restored. She drew the first deep breath she had drawn in many years. Kidneys, liver, pancreas, digestive system—all restored.
Signs of breast cancer. She had had some lumps biopsied, followed by major surgery. I found and burned out all precancerous cells in her breasts and lymph nodes. A sweep of the rest of her body showed only a few more precursors, which I also eliminated. Of course, I increased her breast size, by moving tissue from her abdomen area. The remaining tissue I moved to her hips to balance her look. Nothing too extreme, just changing her shape from highball glass to hourglass.
Expanding from the core, I corrected hormone levels, ensuring they wouldn’t drift away from optimum settings again. This would prevent weight fluctuation. Looking into her brain, I found several spots that indicated incipient plaque deposits. She was probably already feeling the effects of memory loss, indecision, and mood swings. I cleared those out and increased blood flow to her brain. I could see the center of her power and felt the urge to snuff it out, stopping her from accessing magic.
No, that wasn’t part of the Deal. Instead, I upped blood flow to that area and encouraged the neurons to rejuvenate.
I saw the signs of extensive defensive wounds: micro fractures on her radius, ulna, and phalanges, and some aftereffects of mild concussions. She had been treated badly in the past. I considered what to do about that while continuing work.
Joints refurbished, new cartilage, bone density increased, muscle tone improved, more muscle fibers added; all improvements I had promised. Remembering her glances at Beatrice that showed apprehension, I decided to give her muscles something extra. She would be the strongest, fastest woman on the East Coast. But as long as she didn’t do anything foolish like enter the Olympics and win, she could still pass as normal.
That led me down the path of her reflexes. With the extra strength and speed, she could easily hurt herself. I made some changes to her reaction patterns, not making her a killer, but the next time someone tried to bitch slap her, they would be in for a rude surprise.
No more joint pain! I even fixed her hammer toes and strengthened all the bones in her feet. Why do women ruin their feet with ill-fitting shoes? Oh well, she wouldn’t be wearing those sneakers anymore, her new feet were much smaller, no longer spread out.
Now for her looks. Skin texture baby-smooth, as promised. She was naturally light haired, but I made her skin capable of taking a tan. Freckles? No, I got rid of them and the propensity for them. Where before, she would burn, peel, and freckle, now she would only get that ruddy, healthy glow. What the hell, I threw in a tan. She would have to maintain it, but it was a good start. To go with the baby-smooth skin texture, I gave her a babe’s light peach fuzz all over her body, except for her head and crotch. She wouldn’t need to shave her legs anymore.
I deliberated on her face for several minutes, debating nose and ear balance, before deciding on the correct proportions. Slightly smaller in both cases, but still better balanced with her chin. I removed her crow’s-feet and thickened the skin around her eyes. She would still be recognizable as herself, just an improved version. Kind of like a before and after glamour shot photo.
Now for her senses: a general rejuvenation of her nerve endings resulted in a great increase in touch. She unconsciously started stroking her upper thigh and squeezed her legs together. I could smell her arousal as rejuvenated nerve endings and hormone levels brought her back to youthful passions.
“Ohhh,” she sighed, “please...”
“Do you want me to stop?” I asked.
“Hell no!” she replied. “Keep on going!”
Ears and hearing next—rejuvenating the hairs in her cochlea and her auditory nerves would bring her hearing back to better-than-normal, as well as improve her balance.
“I can hear your heartbeat!” she exclaimed.
Smell; I rejuvenated her olfactory bulbs and repaired nerve pathways, and she breathed deeply, taking in the smells of the forest around us.
Last, vision. Her eyes were myopic, and the corneas had hardened. I fixed that and cleaned out all the floaters that had accumulated in her vitreous fluid. Checking the rods, cones, and tetra cells, I rejuvenated those, giving her better-than-human night vision. Changing the shape of her eyeballs brought everything into focus in a rush. She would never need glasses again.
“I’m done,” I said, breathing like I had just finished a marathon. Which was true, in a sense. Checking the pool of energy, I saw that it had diminished by over one-third. And I still had a lot more to do.
“How do I look?” she asked with apprehension. Standing, she noted her shoes no longer fit, being too big for her new feet. Her pants now strained on her ample hips, as did her breasts against her old bra and top.
“Ouch,” she said, reaching back with the flexibility of a teen, running her hands up inside the back of her blouse to unhook the now too-tight bra, releasing her new assets. “Oh, my goddess. I must be a D cup now!”
Reaching out with both hands, I said, “If you don’t like them...”
She turned away from my touch. “No! Don’t you dare! I’ll get used to them.”
With her back to me, she did that complicated maneuver women do to remove their bras without taking off their tops, pulling the straps down her sleeves. She tossed the bra aside and started buttoning up her blouse, muttering something about being tan all over. Well, I do like to do a complete job.
When she turned back around, the blouse was extremely tight. I thought the modesty was overdone since I had just been inside her body, but logic wasn’t one of the coven’s strong suites.
“Can’t you fix my clothes so I’m not popping out like an actress in a B-grade flick?” she said.
“Carol,” I replied, “I’m a magician, not a fucking tailor.” Really? I had performed a miracle, and she wanted new clothes.
Akiko drifted closer and said, “Show her what she looks like now, Scott,” to avoid the argument from escalating.
I reached into my satchel and pulled out a large mirror. Carol’s eyes widened as the mirror was clearly too large to have fit in the bag, then she shrugged her shoulders in recognition of the fact that I had a lot of tricks up my sleeve.
Holding the mirror up, Akiko came closer and brightened considerably, allowing Carol to examine herself. She stared closely at her face, touching the edges of her eyes, which had once been wrinkled and sunken. She stroked her now longer, thicker, golden blond hair, then made a fist and pulled hard at a tuft. When her head jerked, I realized she was testing to see if her hair was going to come loose.
“Don’t worry. Your hair won’t fall out, at least for ten years.”
A tear came to her eye.
“Are you happy with the color of your eyes and hair?” I asked. A look at Beatrice, pacing angrily back and forth outside the circle, made me want to hurry and finish.
She opened her mouth to comment, but continued looking at herself in the mirror critically, before closing her mouth and nodding. “I still look like myself,” she said. “I thought I would end up like a Barbie doll. This is much better. You’re a real artist.”
�
�So, our Deal is complete?” I asked. “You have to say the words or the changes will be reversed.”
“Yes,” she said, “I accept that our pact is complete. I will not attack you or your friends.”
All I needed was the ‘yes,’ but it was nice to hear the full form.
I handed her the mirror as a gift and broke the circle. The forest noises and psychic clamor rushed in, breaking the peace. I took a few moments to absorb the scents, the cool breeze, and the energy that washed through the broken circle. It added minutely to the energy already expended. Every little bit helped. I saw Akiko doing the same and realized she had been greatly depleted during the fight, on top of the energy she had expended assisting the rejuvenation. I extended a tendril of the vanquished alpha’s energy, and she sucked it into her shintai. She nodded her thanks. Now my tank was at about fifty percent, but it was worth it to help Akiko.
Now for the hard sell. “Beatrice, could you come here please?” I said. “I’m ready for you.”
“It’s about damn time,” she humphed as she stomped her way into the circle.
“Please have a seat on the tree trunk,” I started, closing the circle. “What are you looking for? I’m thinking sultry Latina? To match your current complexion.”
“Hell no,” she said, “I don’t want your misogynist ideas to turn me into a damn Barbie doll! Just the youth and health.”
“So,” I mused, “I’ll just let your natural beauty shine through?
“I must say,” I continued, looking at the mounds of blubber, “you’ve given me a lot to work with.”
I reached out and touched the multiple piercings in her ears. “The piercings and tattoos will have to go, though. They’re incompatible with the process.”
She jerked away from my touch, her dyed hair waving in the night air. Her triple chins wobbled as she squeaked, “Don’t touch me!”
“You’re rejecting the Deal?” I asked hopefully. If she rejected the Deal, she would get nothing for her betrayal of Alicia.
She gritted her teeth and said, “No, you owe me! Don’t try to wriggle out of our Deal. Just keep the touching to a minimum.”
“OK,” I said, “I’ll do my best not to offend your beliefs.”
Without waiting for her reply, I started, using essentially the same steps I used for Carol, but modified to remove excess blubber, metal piercings, lots of skin, and tattoo ink. The blubber oozed out of her pores and flowed down to form a gelatinous pool below the fallen tree. As it flowed, the blubber also took toxins and the tattoo ink away, leaving a much smaller Beatrice.
The tattoos had contained some vile magics, and eliminating those were a high priority. The bitch had been tatted up to curse anyone she didn’t agree with. Unfortunately, I recognized the hand that had done some of the nastier work: my old friend Terri. I made a mental note to tell her not to do any more work for the witches.
Beatrice’s piercings dropped to the ground, and she suddenly hacked and spat out a tongue stud I hadn’t noticed. Too bad it hadn’t gone down the wrong way and choked her.
But I wouldn’t have let her die; we had the bargain to complete.
Heart, organs, ears, eyes, all renewed and repaired. I noted during the eyesight upgrade that she had had corrective eye surgery. She must have been wearing those horrendous glasses as decoration.
Skin and hair next. I lengthened her hair, removing the multiple colors that had been staining it, restoring the luxurious black sheen of healthy hair. She now had a lustrous waterfall of black hair that reached her waist. I had no doubt she would run to a stylist and ruin it again as soon as possible. The skin was a problem. She was naturally swarthy, and I stuck with that, only lightening the tone so that she looked younger. Being younger than Carol, her wrinkles had just started, but I removed them anyway.
Body hair was a problem. Carol’s body hair had been set for baby-fine hair everywhere but her head and crotch. For the unpleasant Beatrice, screw her, let her keep shaving. Then I noted from her shaggy pits and legs that she wasn’t the type to shave anyway. I relented on the mustache, though. I didn’t want anyone looking at this as my work and thinking I couldn’t do a good job. So, no facial hair.
However, since she seemed to like multicolored hair, I left a surprise in her crotch. A palette of rainbow-colored pubes that she could take pride in.
Looking into her brain and mind, I eliminated the physical problems. I noted the warped jumble of neuroses that drove her: the need to be always right, the conflict over her sexual orientation, the intense anger. I stayed away from touching that can of worms. I had learned long ago not to interfere with anyone’s mind, as the chances that I could help were more than offset by the certainty that I wasn’t wise enough to predict those changes.
If anyone had looked in my mind, they would have found an even bigger can of worms. I wouldn’t appreciate anyone mucking about in there, so I couldn’t do the same to anyone else.
I did note that her level of magical ability was much lower than Carol’s. Carol should have been in charge, but Beatrice was so much more driven that she outshouted Carol. I wondered if the boost I had given Carol would change their relationship.
I did a good job, bringing her back to normal BMI, with concomitant youth and health. What I did not do was share the physical enhancements I had given Carol. Beatrice would be stronger and faster, but not an Olympic level athlete. Akiko, acting as my assistant, noted the differences, but made no comment.
Finally, it was done. The changes were extensive: her Healthy-At-Any-Size body was now healthy at a normal BMI. Her black hair flowed down her back like an obsidian cascade. Her face, now bereft of piercings and extra fat, was beautiful. Her figure, which I had not enhanced at her request, was supple and lean, more runner than Barbie doll.
“So,” I said, “what do you think?”
She took a step, almost tripping as her pants slid down her hips. She angrily pulled them up and knotted the fabric to tighten the waistline to her new size. As she took another step, another piercing fell from the leg of her pants. I had warned her all the piercings would be gone.
“Pick that up,” she commanded.
“Sorry, honey,” I replied, “I know where it’s been. No way am I touching that.
“Now,” I continued, “Are you happy with the work?”
The sneer ruined her good looks. “I hate this look, my piercings and tatts are gone, and you did a terrible job!”
“Sorry,” I said. “Anything specific I can fix for you? Bigger breasts, perhaps? Wider hips? Different skin tone?”
Just outside the circle, Kitty-Sue and Carol were watching the silent (to them) argument.
“No, shithead,” she complained, “I just don’t like what you did. I could have done the same.”
“Yeah,” I replied, “and any grade school art student could paint the Mona Lisa.”
She stomped to the edge of the circle and bumped her nose, which increased her anger. I had to hide a grin, as her stomping with her reduced weight now looked cute, instead of angry.
“Let me out of here,” she screamed. “Right now!”
“Not until our pact is complete,” I said. “You can either accept the changes, completing the pact, or go back to your old self.”
All that energy wasted. That’s one of the reasons I don’t like dealing with witches.
“I don’t have to do anything you tell me, asshole!” she screamed, stamping her foot. “Now let me out!”
“You’re so cute when you’re angry,” I said, crossing my arms and looking amused, knowing it would piss her off.
She started gathering energy for an attack but was stumped by my circle blocking all flows.
Time to be an asshole. Turning my attention to the pile of blubber, skin, and discarded tissue on the ground, I urged it to form a rough mannequin of a woman.
“It’s obvious I animated the wrong pile of shit,” I taunted. “All the fucking brains must be in there. You know, I could clone this into a better version
of you. The only thing your acquaintances would notice is that this copy would be much prettier and nicer.”
As she watched in horror, the lumps modeled themselves into a semblance of her: growing hair, features forming on the face, rising to its feet into a graceful pose. I made the breasts and hips larger, turning it into an exaggerated anime fantasy figure.
It wasn’t until the creature’s eyes opened, showing orbs of luminous beauty, that Beatrice screamed.
“I can transfer your spirit into this golem,” I said. “Is that what you want?”
“No! No!” she said. “Make it go away.”
“No problem,” I said. With a gesture, the golem froze in place. “Just accept that our pact is complete, and you will never see her again. Unless, of course, you tell anyone that this Deal was less than fair.”
“Yes, damn you!” she spit out. “Our Deal is done! We have a truce.”
Regretfully, for I could tell this witch was going to cause trouble in the future, I dropped the circle and let the golem slump back to the ground. More energy wasted, to convince a woman I had given the gift of youth to that she had received what she had asked for.
Beatrice stomped over to where Carol and Kitty-Sue stood. Carol’s eyes lit up when she got a close look at Beatrice.
“Oh my,” she said. “You look so young!”
Pulling out the mirror I had given her, she held it out so Beatrice could examine herself. At a look from me, Akiko floated over and increased her brightness to allow Beatrice to see clearly. She needed the extra light because I hadn’t given Beatrice the low light vision upgrade that Carol had received.
Beatrice stared at her new face for several moments, then reached up and stroked her long black hair. For just a moment, I hoped she would be happy.
“I don’t like it,” she sneered. “This face is ugly, the hair has to go, and I miss my tattoos!”
“Well,” said Carol in a soft voice while looking at her feet, “I kind of like your new look.”
The roundhouse slap from Beatrice was unexpected. What was even more unexpected was that Carol, even with her head down, managed to neatly block the blow. Beatrice’s hand smacked loudly against the edge of Carol’s palm. The shock was apparent on Beatrice’s face at the ease with which she had been stopped. As she stood rubbing her right wrist, she had the strangest expression on her face.