The Rosewood Emporium was hidden, just out of sight. Impossibly nestled between two towering storefronts of gleaming metal and glass, the small, wooden fronted shop should have been obvious. It looked out of place and time, the wood-framed bay window revealing just some of what the store sold: dizzying arrays of multicoloured potions; ancient, leather-bound tomes; bestial statues; and shimmering curious. Above, the sign shone brightly even in the gloom of the setting sun, gilt-gold letters almost glowing, the small sign of a witch standing proudly next to them.

    The shop was hidden, except to those looking for it.

    Or those who needed it.

    Mischa blinked a few times, staring at the small store. He’d walked along this street dozens, hundreds of times before… how had he managed to miss the shop for so long? Dozens of other shoppers walking past without giving it a second glance, continuing on with their lives, oblivious.

    Mischa stepped closer, weaving through the crowd, curiosity and apprehension growing. A sturdy wooden door stood ahead of him, engraved with the familiar witch design, carved from some unknown wood. A bell rang gently above Mischa as he pushed the door open, stepping inside, the warmth of the place washing over him. The subtle scent of flowery perfume hung in the air. He gazed around the place, the wooden shelves to the right of him lit by soft, orange lights – enough to see easily by, but still hiding what lay beyond, the shop feeling like it might stretch out forever. Each shelf was piled high: stacked books, jewellery, parchment scrolls stacked into a precarious pyramid.

    He stepped forward into the store, letting the door close behind him, eyes running across the racks of cabinets on his left. Each held dozens of glass bottles, all in different shapes and sizes, filled with a dazzling array of brightly coloured liquids. Each had a small label, filled with minute, intricate writing. Whether potions or just decoration, Mischa tried to imagine what each bottle might contain, what they could do. Flight? Healing? Love? Ahead was a sturdy wooden counter, dominated by an intricate looking brass register, festooned with an impossible looking number of buttons and levers. A wide archway stood beyond, covered by rich, purple curtains.

    “Hello?” He called out, the place seeming still and deserted, answered only by the slightest sound of movement above, the creak of timbers. Spinning around, looking up, Mischa imagined for a moment he saw a large tail reaching up, lost amongst the shadows above, sturdy wooden beams crisscrossing the roof.

    Shrugging, Mischa turned back to see a woman emerge from behind the curtain. Tall with pale, freckled skin, she wore a storybook witch’s dress. Its deep black hugged her body, contrasting against her striking orange hair, resting over her shoulder in a thick braid. She smiled sweetly, her blue eyes seeming to gaze right through him.

    “Hello, sir, and welcome to the Rosewood Emporium. Were you looking for anything, in particular, today?” the woman spoke, already imagining she knew Mischa’s answer. Reading customers was one of the most essential tricks any self-respecting magic shop owner knew (all the better to help people, after all), but some people were spooked if you started telling them their heart’s desire.

    “Oh, um, not really…” Mischa started, unsure what to say, still lost in the sight of the store, “... what is this place? And how come I’ve never seen it before?”

    The witch smiled, nodding patiently. It was a reaction she’d seen many times, and one she was used to dealing with. She walked out from behind the counter, her shoes clicking against the wooden floor, gesturing Mischa to follow her through the stacks of shelves.

    “Put plainly, this is a magic shop. The Rosewood Emporium develops, creates, stocks, and sells all manner of magical spells, potions, artefacts, and clothing – although our speciality is transformation and transformation, any magic which can change something’s form. As for why you’ve never seen it before,” she paused a moment to gesture out to the window, still visible despite the distance they’d walked through the shop. Outside, instead of the dull city street Mischa expected, the shop looked out over a tranquil forest clearing, birds flitting between sun-lit branches, butterflies dancing over brightly coloured flowers, “the Emporium appears wherever it needs to be, or to whoever seeks it.”

    “Wait, wait, wait... you’re telling me magic is real? And I’ve just been teleported into a forest?” Mischa replied, his voice a mix of confusion and amazement, still processing what she’d just said and what he’d just seen.

    “Yes, magic as real. As for teleporting, think of it more as… the shop existing in multiple places at once. But, well, city streets don’t make for a good view,” she smiled reassuringly, starting walking again, back through the stacked shelves. Overhead, something followed, padded feet moving silently on the rafters.

    “And you specialise in- transforming magic? Does that mean you transform people?” Mischa asked hesitantly. His tone was skeptical, but already he was beginning think of the possibilities, his mind churning with ideas. The witch smiled again, nodding in reply.

    “Usually people, yes, but transmuting lead into gold does come in handy. We can transform people into anyone and anything. People, animals, creatures… even objects. I suspect that’s why you’re here, isn’t it, Mischa?” she smiled, eyes twinkling again as she regarded him, “the desire to be something else, even for a short while? Something practical. Something… useful?”

    “How- how did-?” Mischa stammered, the witch’s words hitting home and stirring the thoughts in his mind, his cheeks blushing red with a hint of embarrassment.

    “A witch knows these things,” her mouth curled in a smile, the witch leaning against a sturdy wardrobe behind her, “but in the interests of fairness, my name’s Evie. So, Mischa, how can we help you today?”

    For a moment, Mischa stood still, doubt still fighting in his mind against his growing curiosity. His eyes drifted about the shop, from artefact to artefact, looking across from a jewel-encrusted bird statue to a crystal ball, faint pink mist swirling inside. It could have been a trick, but… if it really was real, then any number of his dreams could become reality.

    “This still seems so hard to believe,” he started to reply, the words coming slowly, still reluctant to commit to a request, “If I’m going to buy something, how do I know it will even change me? I mean, it all sounds amazing, but how can I be sure the magic really works?”

    “Okay, then,” Evie straightened, bristling a little at the accusation, even if it was a common one, “if you don’t believe me, then how about a free trial? A transformation of your choice. Temporary, but on the house.”

    “Anything?” Mischa’s squeaked, a lump forming in his throat, possibilities bubbling in his mind. “Even something like… like…,” trembling a little, Mischa looked back at the artefacts, his eyes falling again on the crystal ball, drawing a strange sense of encouragement from it. He straightened a little, taking a deep break to try and steady himself before continuing his request, “what about a balloon? A latex balloon, filled with helium, able to float up to the ceiling.” The more he described it, the more his words tumbled from his mouth. He tried not to get his hopes up, but he could feel himself growing increasingly eager about the possibility.

    “Sure, easy!” Evie replied in an instant, her attitude making Mischa swell with renewed confidence. “Phoibe, could you pass down the potion?” Mischa followed Evie’s gaze upwards, stepping back in surprise as a furred hand appeared over a rafter, dropping a small silver bottle into Evie’s hand.

    “Who was-”

    “Here you go,” Evie ignored the question, passing the small bottle to Mischa, the liquid swirling and sparkling inside.  “Swallow this quickly, and be prepared to, er, lay down.” She snapped her fingers and a pile of orange and pink silk cushions appeared behind Mischa, doing little to settle his mind. A thousand questions raced through his thoughts. Where had the cushions appeared from? Was he really going to drink this strange potion? Would it really turn him into a balloon?

    “How do I know this isn’t going to turn-”

    “If I wanted to turn you into a frog, you’d already be a frog,” Evie replied with a sense of weary familiarity, “and yes, it’s safe. It will wear off after an hour, but if you want to change back, all you have to do is wish it and you’ll be back here, just as you are.”

    Mischa looked back down at the bottle, the slight warmth in his hand, such a small thing to do something so impossible. But if it worked… He pulled the cork out, putting the bottle to his lips, and tipped it back, swallowing the liquid down before he had the chance to reconsider. It tasted of strawberries and plastic, his tongue tingling slightly, the sensation travelling down his throat as he swallowed.

    “So how long does it take to-” Mischa gulped, a wave of weakness rolling over him, answering his own questions. A dizzy feeling took hold, the shop around him feeling larger than before, the already tall witch towering over him. Looking down at his body, Mischa could see his clothes beginning to slip, too loose about his shrinking frame. Watching his red t-shirt slip from his shoulders, he realised for the first time he was probably going to be naked before the change was complete, his cheeks flushing red with embarrassment.

    “I’ll just give you some privacy… shout if you need me,” Evie smiled, stepping back, a wave of her hand causing curtains to cascade down around him.

    He grew tired, staggering back, tripping over his increasingly loose trainers and falling back into the pile of cushions, grateful for Evie’s foresight. Strength left his body, leaving him limp amongst the soft heap, the world looming ever larger around him. His legs slipped free from his pants, Mischa using what little energy he had left to pull himself up higher out the collar of his t-shirt, the thick fabric draped across his chest like a blanket.

    “This- this is- unreal,” he gasped, finding it difficult to form the words, feeling like all he could do was exhale. His body collapsed, arms and legs limb, bones and muscle fading into thin air inside him.

    “Just relax, you’re fine. Balloons don’t need to breathe, so you won’t, either.” Evie said through the curtain, her voice warm and reassuring. He could imagine her standing there on the other side, surely towering over him now.

    His body utterly limp, unable to move, Mischa tried to concentrate on the sensations of his changing body. The calm stillness in his chest as his heart stopped. The rush of air still escaping from as his organs faded away, chest slumping. The way his lips flapped about with the flow of air, strangely loose, the vibrations carried through his skin. Eventually, his head collapsed, brains compressing into his skin. His vision started to warp, his eyes flattening as they merged with his collapsing face, the hollow skin wrinkling until the world seemed like a fun-house mirror.

    Despite the strangeness of it all, Mischa couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of deflating, the lightness of his body, the comfort of the pillows below him. The red colour that flushed his cheeks began to spread, growing brighter, flowing down over his body. His skin tingled as it went, a pleasant tightening feeling, flesh turning to shining latex. He could feel his body collapsing into his hair, its lengths resting along his back, absorbing it into his changing skin.

    Now little more than a crude figure of a person fashioned in latex, Mischa could feel his skin growing tighter, rounder, his shape smoothing out. His fingers and toes disappeared first, the gaps between closing up. Latex skin grew out between his legs, and from under his arms. His body twitched and tumbled down the cushions as it changed, crumpling his skin, the world a blur as the shop spun around him. His neck stretched out, the shape of his head flowing into his torso, ears and nose smoothing out into nothing. Mischa’s flattened eyes almost disappeared, fading into cartoonish printing, shifting in an anime style fixed in a look of joy. Only his mouth remained, stretching out, lips curling around themselves to form the neck of the balloon.

    For a moment, Mischa lay still, his printed eyes pressing into the floor of the shop, the wood grain seeming impossibly large and close. He was little more than crumpled red latex, almost lost amongst the cushions.  Then, the feeling of warm fingers around his mouth, pinching it closed, lifting his limp body up form the floor. He could feel himself hanging down, limp and lifeless, looking at the grinning face of Evie.

    “There! How’s that for a demonstration?” Evie’s voice seemed to sing around Mischa’s body, his skin vibrating at her words.

    Mischa couldn’t have replied, even if he could talk, so stunned by the sensations of his changing body, the realisation of just how real magic was.

    “Thought as much,” Evie replied as if reading his thoughts, taking a moment to mutter something to herself in a strange tongue. The next time she spoke, her words were high-pitched, the spell turning her breath to helium, “but you’re not quite finished yet.” She turned him in her hands, gently rubbing his body between her fingers, warming up his latex skin. Vibrations shuddered through his body, the feeling of latex against latex, the burn of friction inside him. Carefully, she gripped his mouth and the top of his head, tugging at his body. With each tug, Mischa could feel his whole body drawn out, a strange exhilaration as he stretched out.

    “You ready for this?” Evie asked, sensing the growing excitement inside Mischa.

    She placed her lips around Mischa’s, her body seeming so warm and soft as they clamped around his body, the feeling she was breathing life back into him. Her breath was warm and slightly humid, condensation settling on the inside of his skin, tickling slightly as he began to fill with helium. Blowing gently, she slowly inflated him, letting his skin stretch out slowly as the pressure grew inside. He could feel his body drawing thinner, paler, his printed eyes growing larger as they were drawn across his round body.

    The helium started to lift him, a giddying feeling of weightlessness. His body bobbed about, waving in time with her breaths, slowly drifting back upright. He could see her more clearly now, her eyes level with his own, his vision no longer warped but stretched out, wider than he thought possible. Wide, anime eyes stared back at Evie, a look of permanent joy across the surface of the balloon. The witch paused a moment, pinching Mischa’s mouth shut again between her fingers, looking over his inflated body, now the size of a grapefruit.

    “Big enough for you?”

    Mischa thought only one word in response: More.

    Putting Mischa back in her mouth, Evie resumed blowing, hands grasping tightly around Mischa’s swelling body, feeling the vibrations in his skin as he grew. With each breath, the sensations grew more intense, his stretched skin increasingly sensitive. Just the feeling of her hands rubbing against his skin, the sounds of his body squeaking, was enough to fill him with pleasure.

    Finally, when it seemed his skin could take no more, Evie stopped inflating him. Deft fingers tugged at his mouth, quickly stretching it around on itself, tying it into a tight bow, sealing the helium inside him.

    “One final touch…” she reached into her dress, pulling out a silver ribbon, tying it around his knot, “and there, the perfect balloon!” She grinned at him, letting go of his body. Mischa felt an exhilarating rush as he drifted upwards, light and free, snapping to a stop as the ribbon dug in around his mouth. He remained there, bobbing about in the air, feeling it playing across his skin. He felt so helpless, but so free.

    A chime sounded from the entrance of the store, distracting Evie for a moment.

    “Oh, excuse me for a second…” Evie smiled apologetically, tucking Mischa’s ribbon under a book, leaving him dangling, “I’ll be back as soon as I can…” Unable to move by himself, Mischa was helpless but to drift on the end of his string, slowly watching the story turning around him. Then, a feeling of something tugging at him, whisking him up through the air into the rafters of the shop.

    “Hello there, little balloon…” purred a voice, warm and soft, Mischa finding himself staring at the face of a lion. Phoibe grinned at him, fangs flashing white in her face, butterscotch fur framed by dark purple hair. The sphinx considered the balloon for a moment, admiring her face reflected in the balloon’s gleaming skin.

    What… what are you going to do with me? Mischa thought, panic gripping him.

    “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you, it just seems a shame to be tied down…” behind her, cream wings lifted, stretching out into the roof space, “when you could be flying free…” She lifted her gaze to the ceiling and the open sky-light, letting go of the ribbon.

    Mischa flew free, drifting up into the rafters, carried upwards by the helium inside him. He bounced against rough, wooden beams, spinning around on the spot, and for a moment Mischa and Phoibe thought he might be stuck forever. Eventually, the current caught him, dragging him across the ceiling and out through the skylight.

    The warm sun bathed Mischa with light, heating up the helium inside him, pressure growing ever so slightly more. He drifted higher and faster, drifting past the treetops, able to glimpse the world tumbling away beneath him as he bobbed this way and that. The room of the shop, nestled in that perfect clearing. The verdant leaves of trees stretching out into the distance. The clear blue sky above him, clouds drifting about lazily.

    He kept climbing, giddy with joy and excitement, joined by a chorus of songbirds dancing and weaving about him. Lost in the pleasure of it all, Mischa was oblivious to the chaos below him…

    “You did what?!” Evie yelled up at the rafters and the impassive face of Phoibe.

    “What? He’s a balloon, he’s supposed to be floating. Besides, he can always will himself back.” Phoibe replied, idly scratching her claws into the wood.

    “But what if he doesn’t realise, and just keeps climbing? If he bursts, he’ll change back in mid-air!” Evie cried, voice increasingly exasperated.

    “Oh,” The sphinx’s eyes grew wide, “I hadn’t thought about that… my bad.”

    Cursing in frustration, Evie marched back to the front door, her footsteps echoing throughout the store.

    “What is going on?” A distant voice called, a witch clad in a dress of blue and gold emerging from amongst the shelves, her golden eyes looking at Evie just in time to catch the broomstick thrown at her.

    “Come on, Sophia,” Evie called to her, already half out of the door, “we’ve got another balloon to catch.”

    Sophia paused a moment to calm herself, watching Evie mounting the broomstick, kicking herself off the ground. Was it really so much to ask for one quiet day, she wondered to herself, casting a weary eye towards Phoibe, the sphinx still lurking in the shadows of the ceiling.

    She hurried out, tucking the broomstick between her legs, settling her dress before pushing against the ground. The broomstick rose, and the witch soared into the sky, trailing after Evie in search of the one bright spot of colour against the pale blue sky.

    Mischa continued to drift higher, the air growing thinner about him. With less pressure outside, the helium within pushed outwards, stretching his skin ever thinner. The sensations grew intense, a feeling of lightheadedness and euphoria, the printing of his eyes starting to crack from the strain. He could feel the wind blowing against his skin, pushing his body this way and that, tumbling around. He spun to face down, the rich green of the forest below a welcome change from the endless sky, struggling to make sense of the blurs of blue and orange streaking ever closer to him.

    Tipping back upright, he missed the witches getting closer until Evie’s hand gripped his ribbon, the familiar tug against his knotted mouth as his climb closed. He could feel himself drifting down slightly, spinning round to look at the relieved face of Evie, the second witch pulling up beside her.

    “Have fun?” Evie asked, laughing with relief, her skin blushing red from the chill of the altitude, tying his ribbon carefully to the end of her broomstick as she began their descent. Air rushed past Mischa, sending his body dancing, the thrill of speed as the Emporium came back into view below them.

    That… was… amazing!