The shop’s door jingled as a slim thirty-something woman entered.  The bespectacled man with salt-and-pepper hair at what looked more like a workbench than a shop counter set a small shiny object down.  He smiled at her warmly.  “Good morning, Pamela.  Welcome to the Mysterious Magic Shop.”

Pamela raised an eyebrow.  “Really?  Isn’t greeting first-time customers by name a bit cliche?”  She was smiling behind the wit.

“We have a small clientele base, I try to greet everyone by name.  Our kids are in the same grade at school, I remember you from career day.”

Pamela chuckled and nodded.  “Same here.  Ben, wasn’t it?  I have to say, ‘I run a shop that sells real magic’ is fairly memorable.”

Ben spread his hands wide, indicating the array of glass display cases ringing the small shop.  They were sparsely populated, only a few items on each shelf, carefully arrayed on velvet pillows.  “And here you are.”

“You are frightfully hard to find, you know,” continued Pamela conversationally.  “You’re not even visible from the road.  And you don’t advertise.”

“We sell only to the truly determined.  Idle browsers...” he shrugged.  “Not our market.  You certainly look determined.  What is it you truly need?”

Pamela’s certainty evaporated, and she looked away from the shopkeeper.  “I want to be something special for my husband,” she muttered.

“Pardon?”

A little louder, Pamela said, “I want to do something special for my husband.”

“That’s not what I heard the first time.  Which do you really want, the honest ‘be’, or the safe ‘do’?”

“I’ve been trying the latter for a couple years now.”  Pamela met his eyes.  “Can you help with the former?”

Ben smiled warmly.  “It is something of a specialty.  What do you want to be?  What we have is not cheap, but to the right person it is worth every penny.”

Pamela’s gaze turned away from Ben once more, this time in pursuit of a memory.  “Elliot showed me some of the art he likes, when I grew frustrated in my attempts to entice him.  I asked what he truly wanted, and...  The girls were pretty, but they weren’t human.  Mythical creatures like harpies, mermaids.  Even a half-spider that was far sexier than such a thing has any right to be.”

“Ah!  Well now...”  Ben studied Pamela’s body, the easy grace of her pose.  “You’ve kept yourself in fine shape.  Does the word Baladi mean anything to you?”

“The second thing I tried doing,” replied Pamela.  She set her slim purse by the old-fashioned cash register, and stepped back to gyrate her hips, shimmying them hypnotically while moving her arms in sinuous waves.  “He liked it well enough, and dancing for him was fun, but it didn’t keep his interest for long.”

Ben smiled broadly.  “You’re perfect.  I have an item crafted by a rather peculiar sort... not that that’s saying much, almost all crafters are peculiar.”  He chuckled softly, and patted the bauble on the counter.

“What’s that?” asked Pamela, gesturing to what Ben had been working on when she entered.

“My latest project.  A twinning mirror, if I ever get it working.”

“So you can turn someone into twins?” asked Pamela with a smile.  “I’m sure that’d be popular.”

“Ah, not quite.  May I?”  He held up the device.  At Pamela’s nod, he opened it so she could see the mirror, then snapped it closed again.  She looked down at herself, nothing had changed.  But when she looked up, Ben had been replaced by a copy of herself.  A moment later he flickered and returned to normal.  “Temporary magic is tempermental.  The line between lasting a few seconds and lasting so long the change becomes permanent is a narrower than one might like.”

Pamela frowned worriedly.  “You could have been stuck like me?”

He shook his head.  “This isn’t my first mirror.  I have one with a permanent duration tucked away in back, with my own image carefully stored.”

“Handy.”

“Very much so in this line of work.  But I’m fairly sure you don’t want to be a boring old shopkeeper, so let us see...”  He paced to a specific case, unlocking the door before extracting a golden tiara.  The front had a pronounced V-shape to it, rising to points that looked like sharp eyebrows, then descending again.

“And this will solve all my problems?” asked Pamela.

“Hah.  Hardly.  Put it on, let’s see if it likes you.”

Pamela accepted the tiara, and settled it on her brow.  A flicker of magic prickled through her hair, and she turned to the mirror beside the case.  “Oh!  Purple hair.”  She turned back and forth, examining its new length.  “It looks better on me than I’d have thought.  This is temporary, right?”

“For now, yes.  If you use the Tiara of the Half-Genie as much as I suspect you will, the hair change will become permanent.  It likes to mark its owner.”

“How do I use it?” asked Pamela.

“How do you think?” replied the shopkeeper with a grin, glancing to her twitching hips.  “You know you want to try.”

Pamela took a step back, and began to dance once more.  As she got into her rhythm, a glow built up around her, then flared.  Surprised, she stopped dancing, and the glow died away.  As it did so, it revealed her ordinary blouse and skirt had been replaced by bright red harem silks, and bulky golden armbands.  “What the?  I look like a...  Right.  Half-Genie.  Cute.  How do I get my clothes back?”

“Take the tiara off.”

Pamela put her hands to it, and hesitated.  “I don’t want to.”  Her brow furrowed, and she grabbed it off her head.  “Hah!  I’m not so weak-willed as that.”

Ben chuckled softly.  “I think it likes you.  Because it’s so picky, the price is lower than many of my items here.”

The price still made Pamela’s eyes widen.  “I guess I’m not getting a new car for my birthday after all.  It does more than the clothing?  Because I could buy that outfit for far less.”

“Much, much more.  I believe your husband will find its other effects most enticing.”

Pamela paid the asking price, and left the shop with a spring in her step, and a polished wooden jewelry box under one arm.

*** *** ***

Returning home with magic tucked under her arm left Pamela full of nervous energy.  She stored it safely away in the bedroom, then went to pick up the kids from school.  The boys were their usual boisterous selves, wrangling in the back of the van.  Cathy, her daughter, was younger and quieter, but for all that shared a glance and a roll of her eyes with her mother that made Pamela giggle.

Once the kids were home, there was little time to think about her new toy.  Pamela was too busy getting them focussed on homework, refereeing the inevitable conflicts, and preparing dinner.  She made sure to greet her husband with a kiss, though his mind seemed as far away as ever.  Even asking about his day got little more than a noncommittal grunt.

That night after the kids were abed, Pamela’s energy returned, leaving her bouncing around like a kid with a sugar rush.  Her attempts to engage her husband’s interest got little more than a patient sigh.

Pamela decided it was time.  She darted off to the bedroom, and returned with the tiara.  That earned her a raised eyebrow.

When she put it on and started to dance, the eyebrow acquired a friend.  And when the magic flared and changed her costume, she had her husband’s undivided attention.

Pamela continued to dance and sway in place, basking in that look, the glow around her swirling and swaying with her.  Her husband’s gaze followed her every move, so she stepped forward in time with her imaginary music... and her step turned into a stumble as a claw landed on the floor where a foot should have been.  It skittered on the hardwood, and only her outstretched wings kept her from tumbling to the ground.

Pamela stopped dancing, and stared down at her foot.  At her claw.  Where her foot should have been was a dark-scaled talon, at the bottom of a scaly leg.  There were blue feathers on her thighs, where dancing silks had been a moment before.  Her spiralling confusion was reigned in by her husband’s low whistle.

“You look incredible.”

Pamela straightened, tucking her wings back neatly on her back.  “I do?”  She glanced at her husband, saw genuine admiration there, and followed his gaze back to her body.  Her chest was covered in fine white feathers and her arms...  “AAA!  Where are my arms?”

Elliot chuckled indulgently, and gestured to her shoulders.  “I believe they’re tucked against your back.  Your arms are wings.  Spread them for me?”

Pamela did so without thinking, spreading her wings out to their full span.  Each wing was longer than she was tall, but not by much.  Fortunately, their great-room was big enough that she had plenty of room for the display.

Elliot set his tablet aside and got out of his favourite chair.  With avid eyes he paced around her, then brushed a hand along one wing.  “Gorgeous.  How long will you be like this?”

“I... uh, don’t know.  I didn’t ask.  I don’t even know how to change back!”

He chuckled softly.  “Dance.”

Pamela swayed her hips tentatively.  The clawed talons on the hard floor made her balance uncertain, and her hips felt weird.  “This body moves differently.”

“Forget about that.  Let your body do the dancing.”

Pamela’s motions became more fluid, and magic flared around her again.  A moment later, she was human once more, and hugged her husband tight.  “Clever sweetie!  How did you know?”

Elliot laughed warmly then, hugging her back.  “Because I recognize your outfit.”

Pamela smiled brightly at that.  “I did good?”

“You did fantastic,” gushed Elliot, in a way he hadn’t since the birth of their children.

Pamela enjoyed that look for as long a she could.  Then she started to fret again.  “It... wasn’t cheap.”

“Don’t care.”

“It’s okay, I can drive my old car a few more years.  We can afford it.”

“Seriously.  I don’t care.  I’ll sell some of my shares to cover it.  All of them, if need be.  How much was it?”

Pamela named a price, and he laughed, hugging her tight once more.  “Worth every penny, ten times over.  Just for what I’ve seen already.”

Pamela blinked at him in confusion.  “You think there’s more?”

He kissed her soundly, spinning her around then setting her back on her feet.  “Dance,” was all he said.

Pamela danced, smiling happily as she saw how his eyes followed her, tracing her curves, following her hips.  As he stepped toward her, she took a step back for room to move, and once again magic flared.  Pamela found herself lying on the floor a moment later, with no recollection of how she’d gotten there.  She glanced up at her husband and saw little-kid excitement gleaming in his eyes, and knew she’d transformed again.

She tried to stand up, and couldn’t figure out how to move her legs.  With a sigh, she looked down.  “I don’t have any legs,” she said, this time without the panic.  Where her legs would be was solid mass covered in scales.  For a moment Pamela thought she’d become a snake, and found the idea appealing.  Then she noticed the fins.

Pamela held up a hand, fanning her fingers out to stretch the webbing between them.  “I’m a mermaid?”

“You certainly look like one.  The shark teeth are a nice touch.”

Pamela ran her tongue over them carefully.  Sharp.  Pointy.  Dangerous.  She grinned up at her husband, showing them off.  “You like?”

“Shall we move this to the pool?  Or do you want to try again?”

“I’d rather move it to the bedroom,” said Pamela, her saucy grin making her intention quite clear.

“So... trying again?” asked Elliot with the slightest hint of disappointment.

“Nope.  Carry me.”

Elliot’s cheer warmed her heart.  His arms were as strong as she remembered from their wedding night, and the slight stagger to his gait evoked fond memories.  This was going to be a good night.

*** *** ***

Pamela woke human, and naked.  Her hand went immediately to her brow, and the cold empty spot where her tiara should be.  “Where is it?” she asked, in a voice edged with panic.

“I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable,” said her husband, as he rolled to his side.  His gaze went to her only briefly, then flicked away.  “Your tail was too long for the bed, and you’d fallen asleep.  I put it back in its box, it’s over on your dresser.”

Pamela darted a look at the box, and the tension in her whole body drained away when she saw the tiara nestled there.  “Oh.  Good.”

Elliot studied her with furrowed brow.  “Your hair has changed.  It’s not brown anymore.  More like a dark burgundy?   Worse, you seem to have a psychological dependence on it.”

“I was told that it will mark me, changing my hair permanently,” answered Pamela softly.  “As to the other, yes.  I found it hard to take it off.  I like it, and it likes me.  I can tell it won’t hurt me.”  She snuggled up against him.  “I can beat it, but I don’t want to.  Would it be so bad to just... always wear it?  I think it’s lonely.”

Elliot pursed his lips.  “I want to say you should never wear it again.  I want to say we should march back to that shop and return it.  But I can’t.  Are you sure?”

“Yes.  Completely convinced.  The Tiara of the Half-Genie will not harm... what’s so funny?”

Elliot was trying and failing to suppress a severe bout of chuckling.  “That’s what it’s called?”

“That’s what the shopkeeper said.”

“Remember I said you looked like a character from a game?  That name clinches it.”

Pamela smiled back at her husband.  “Is that good?”

“She’s the hero, so I have a hard time imagining a magic item themed on her is going to do harm.”

Pamela jumped out of bed and put the tiara on.  A few seconds of shimmying summoned up the red dancing silks in place of her nightdress.

“So how are you going to get your clothes back if you don’t take the tiara off?” asked Elliot with a broad grin.

“Oh, like you’d object to seeing me around the house like this all day.”

“Not in the slightest.  But what about when you want to go out?”

Pamela pursed her lips, lost in thought.  Her hips moved without her conscious attention, bringing the glow back around her.  She nodded at a thought, then stilled her motions and ended her dance with a proper flourish.  Her silks vanished with the glow, returning her nightdress.  “Tada!”

Elliot applauded softly.  “Your hair’s still purple.”

Pamela pulled it around in front of her, and noticed it draped well below her breasts.  “And longer, too.  It’s not garish, I think I could sell this as something I did to attract your interest.  Which has the virtue of being true, if not quite how they’d think.”

She settled her hair so that it hid most of the tiara, and her hair fell into place as if it had been professionally styled.  “There.  Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Elliot smirked.  “Dance for me.”

Pamela did so, but was interrupted by Elliot’s alarm going off.  “Aww.  Do you have to go?”

“Duty calls.  And I think I need to work even harder today, to earn enough to give you some extravagant gift in return.”

Pamela danced toward him to kiss him for the kind gesture.  It was only after she’d done so that she realized she’d changed again.  She was something small and cute, fluttering at his head level.  That he’d kissed whatever she’d become without hesitation made her grin, her happy wriggles turning into a dance that changed her back to normal.  “That was different.  What was I?”

“An almost impossibly cute bat.  You may want to be careful with the dancing around the kids.  I think Cathy’s squeal of excitement would be supersonic.”

“I suppose I can wait until you get back to experiment further,” Pamela offered.  Clear on her face was the desire to do just that, to learn everything she could be.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” chuckled Elliot.  “Take notes.  Learn how it works.  And show me everything when I get home.”

She took a step back, and started her hips swaying once more, grinning at how he couldn’t turn his gaze away.  “You want to stay and watch.”

“So, so badly,” he sighed.  “But you know me better than to try this.”

She kept dancing.  She could see the tension in Elliot, the need to get ready warring within.  “You can’t look away.  If I dance long enough, you’ll...”

“Is that what you want?”  Elliot asked, strained.

Pamela ended the dance with a flourish, her usual skirt and blouse replacing the outfit.  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Elliot stepped up to her and gave her a toe-curling hug and kiss.  “Thank you, love.  Tell you what, I’ll stay home tomorrow.”

Pamela snorted.  “Tomorrow’s Saturday.  You should be with your family on the weekends, not at work.”

Elliot nodded sheepishly.  “I know.”

“Then why?”

Elliot looked away from his purple-haired wife with difficulty, and started toward the ensuite and its shower.  “I like my work.  Home was...  Can we not have this conversation now?”

“Fine.  But we will have it later, one way or another,” said Pamela darkly.

*** *** ***

Once the kids were up, mornings were always a bustle and rush.  Breakfasts to make, though the eldest, Gary, was competent enough to manage his own toast or cereal.  Lunches to pack.  Uniforms to straighten, and a final inspection of hair and hands to make sure they’d washed and brushed.

After she’d dropped off the boys at their school, Cathy asked about the tiara and purple hair.  Pamela chuckled softly, touching the tiara she’d forgotten she was wearing.  “Something new and special, sweetie.”

“You look pretty with it.  Can I try it?”

Pamela’s fingers tightened on the golden band.  “I...  This is special to mommy.  Maybe when you’re much older.  It probably wouldn’t fit you now anyway.”

Cathy nodded solemnly.  “I understand, mommy.”

Her mother chuckled softly.  “Glad someone does.  Have a great day, sweetie.”

“You too mommy.  You should smile more.”  Cathy bounced eagerly toward the playground of her school, approaching her usual friends.

Pamela smiled and nodded.  “I should at that.”

She made sure to take care of the day’s errands early, and decided that she’d rather work out at home instead of going to the fitness studio like she usually did.  Their workout room didn’t just have a comprehensive collection of weights, it also had a parquet floor made for dancing.  More importantly for Pamela’s plans it had a mirrored wall and barre – the previous owner had a daughter who was very keen on ballet.  Pamela had found the mirror very helpful when she’d taken dance lessons, and figured it would be the perfect place to practice.

Pamela stripped out of her usual clothes, and put on a bright blue leotard instead.  She posed in front of the mirror, taking up a ballet stance and smiling at the tiara in the mirror.  “Let’s see what you like.”  She’d done enough ballet that she remembered the basics.  The tiara did nothing.  A waltz around the room with an imaginary partner only produced a sense of disappointment.

“You’re right, that’s all wrong,” agreed Pamela, as if the tiara could hear her.  She went to the room’s music system and selected something with a faster beat.  Salsa dancing without a partner wasn’t nearly as fun as with, and she could tell that her tiara was getting impatient.  Pamela giggled.  “I know what you want.”

When the song ended, Pamela returned to the center of the dance floor, and posed.  The first shimmy of her hips led to a bright flare of magic, and the return of her billowy-legged dancing silks.  Giddy with the glow of magic about her, Pamela danced in place.  The moves felt easier than she ever recalled, and she could gyrate in place almost effortlessly.

Pamela cast her mind back to her lessons, and her favourite routine from them.  Starting into it worked poorly, as the first time she took a step the magic flared.  When her eyes cleared she was staring into the face of an elephant.

“That’s inconvenient,” is what Pamela tried to say, but it came out as a loud trumpeting noise instead.  She trumpeted a few more times for fun, giggling at how loud it was.  It amused her further that the shape could laugh, but not speak.  She trod forward as delicately as she could, but each footfall still made the ground shake.  Inspecting her massive body in the mirror, she decided that it was, in fact, quite pretty.  Her skin wasn’t rough or wrinkly, it was pink and sleek.  She stood about the same height as before, but much stockier, and there was an awful lot more mass behind her than ever before.  The form felt heavy and ponderous, but incredibly strong at the same time.

She chuckled to herself, imagining using this on a camping trip.  She could haul all their gear at once!

It took a few tries to get her elephantine body swaying enough to trigger the change back, and Pamela smiled with relief when she managed it.  “There.  Better.  I wonder what other surprises you have in store for me.”

The tiara didn’t answer in words, but she could feel that it was happy, almost excited.  The feeling was infectious, and she restarted her dance routine.  This time, when her form flickered away, she kept going.  Elephant, harpy, mermaid.  Each was familiar enough to keep going another step, another change.  Even turning into a monkey didn’t throw her off for long.  But when she ended up as an enormous spider, that brought it all to a halt.

Once again, Pamela advanced on the mirror.  She knew better than to try to control her legs individually.  Willing herself forward set them in motion, scuttling her closer to her reflection.  She grinned at herself, exposing daunting fangs.  “Well, well, well.  I know somebody who’s going to love this to bits.”

She turned back and forth.  Her hair was darker now, and tied back with a red bow that matched her vanished silks.  Her upper body was mostly familiar, other than the blue-white skin.  She tried to cup her cute spiderweb-themed bra, and saw that in place of hands she had spider-claws.  She made a face at that, then turned to look at the rest of her.  Six legs, each as long as she was tall, and tipped with dark claws.  Her bulbous backside that was almost as bulky as the elephant’s.  She gave it a wiggle, then her eyes went wide as spider-silk streamed out of it.  “Woah!”

Dancing back to normal got rid of the sticky mess, to her relief.

She started the dance yet again, persisting through the changes to see what else she’d find.  The cute little crab sent her scuttling toward the mirror once more, for a quick look and a shake of her head (which twisted her body side to side).

The last form she found was a tiny little mouse.  Going back to four legs didn’t stop her dance, curiosity did.  She skittered forward to the mirror once more, peering at herself curiously.  Cute.  Tiny.  Far too tiny for her tastes, imagining what it’d be like to see a person while like this gave her pause.  She tried to wiggle her way back to normal shape.  Nothing happened.  She knew she was dancing correctly, she could see the magic flare... but she didn’t change.

Pamela panicked, and mousy reactions to panic sent her scurrying under cover.  While she cowered under the weight-rack, Pamela took a few deep breaths and tried to calm her body.  A short session of mousy yoga left her clear-headed.  She looked around her, and realized that growing back under the weight rack would be unwise.

The mouse did not want to go into the middle of the room, but Pamela was far too strong-willed to let that stop her.  She resumed her usual position, started to dance, and was human once more in a flash.  This time, she danced her routine to completion, her final flourish dispelling the silks and returning her normal clothes.

The exertion she’d been through hit her then, and she retreated to the kitchen for lunch.  Spying the bananas in the fruit-bowl she grinned.  How did the step go for monkey?  It took a moment’s thought to isolate a segment of her dance routine, and soon she’d hopped up onto the counter.

Bananas tasted way better in monkey form.

Pamela returned to normal for the rest of her lunch, then stayed determinedly so for the rest of the afternoon, as she did some basic tidying so that the housekeeping service wouldn’t see the worst of her family’s mess.  Intellectually, she knew that they were perfectly happy to do that work too, but emotionally she couldn’t have outsiders see her house too messy.

Then she had to pick up the kids, and so the day went.  By the time the kids were abed, she’d almost forgotten she was wearing the tiara.  And it seemed that Elliot had entirely forgotten, engrossed as he was in his tablet.

Pamela studied him for a moment.  She wanted his attention, how best to get it?  She brushed her hand through her hair, catching sight of her rich, purple locks.  The tiara seemed to smile at her plan.

“Oh Elliot...” sang Pamela.

“Hm?”  He didn’t even look up.

“Come into my parlor.”  She danced briefly, enough for the flare of magic to change her clothes.  She saw his eyes turn to her, winked and crooked her finger.

Her husband rose from his chair, and when she darted away, he pursued.

What he found in the bedroom made his jaw drop.  “So sexy...”

Pamela posed artfully on all six legs, then slowly backed herself to the bed.  She untied the ribbon in her hair, letting it cascade in waves around her shoulder.  “Show me how much you love it.”

He did.  Oh, how he did.