“Hey everyone, it’s Heather with another WitchyWays update.  Sorry about freaking you guys out with that last video and turning into a drooling idiot in front of the world.  Moira thought it would be funny, or hot, or something...”

Heather glances at the comments and grins.  “OK, most of you think it was hot.  That’s... um.  Well, something, anyway.  All the bids to sell me off as a sex pet were a little more disturbing.  Would you really like to see someone get cut down like that on a live show?”

Heather laughs at the reactions to that.  “Well, it’s your lucky day.  I have a volunteer to do just that.  Everyone say hi to Jennifer!”

The video switches to split screen, and a woman wearing a pink collar and a very skimpy top shows up on the other side.  “Hi!  Are we really doing this?”

Heather nods eagerly.  “All set up and ready to go.  Jennifer here has given herself to me as a possession until... you guessed it, midnight once more.  You guys do like that, and it has an appropriate witchy feel.  Jennifer, is your husband there?”

“I’m here,” calls a male voice from off-camera.  “Not entirely sure I know what is going on, but...”

“Oooh, you didn’t tell him?” asks Heather.

“You just said he should be here for it,” replies Jennifer.  “But I’m very sure how he’ll react.”

“Let’s test.  How about we start with a little expansion?”

Jennifer’s breasts expand, making her skimpy, stretchy top even skimpier.  “Ooooh, yeah.”

“What the hell?  Is this real?”

Jennifer turns to her left.  “See something you like, sweetiepie?”  Her smirk could cut glass.  As could her nipples.

“Oh hell yes.”

“And then... libido or intelligence first?  I scooped up a goat ally earlier, so Jennifer here has a glyph that can make her... horny.”

Jennifer’s eyes go wide as two cute little horns sprout from her forehead.  “You didn’t say...  OOooh, yeah.”  Her pupils dilate, and one hand cups a breast while the other ends up below the camera view.  She shudders, shakes herself abruptly, and manages to refocus on the camera.  “God, that’s...  Gonna be a good night.  Rrowr.”

“One last step.  Bippity, boppity, bimbo!”

Jennifer’s eyes glaze.  “Wha?  Oooh.  Fuzzy...”  She turns her head to the side and her eyes go even wider.  “Gimme.”  She pounces out of frame.  A loud crash can be heard, followed by passionate moaning.

“Well,” says Heather, abruptly cutting the second feed and returning to a single view.  “That’s quite enough of that.  I hope we’ll hear back from Jennifer tomorrow.”  Her eyes cut to the side, and she smirks.  “Got a thumbs’ up from her husband, so I hope all is well.”

The chat goes wild, making Heather giggle.  “Oh?  That’s not enough?  You want more mindless sex?  Fine.  Top five bidders get to become sex pets for the rest of the night.  Go!”

Heather leans back and watches the numbers climb.  “Wow.  You guys are really keen on this...  Keep in mind, you’ll be turning yourself into a possession for me.  I could turn you into anything.”  She giggles as the bidding ratchets up further.  “Don’t fret if you can’t afford this little stunt.  I’ll be having a raffle later for a spot in my closet.  Dresses only, no underwear.”

The bidding tapers off, and Heather nods in satisfaction.  “You guys are awesome.  And going to be sexy as hell...”

The next ten minutes are spent getting the first three contracts settled, and sweeties brought on screen with the “victims to be”.  The plotlines don’t change much from Jennifer’s.  Surprise, wonder, and passion explode from the screen, each one getting cut off before anything too X-rated happens.

“I’ll take care of the last two once they’ve got a spotter or sweetie set up.  Sending you off into the night in a lust-crazed haze sounds like a recipe for an indecency charge, at the very least.”

Heather grins.  “And now for the big finale.  Everyone left, chime in if you want to spend a day in my closet.  I’ll treat you like a dress, wear you out dancing tonight, and you’ll be home again safe and sound when your curse runs out.”

Heather shakes her head in wonder as the chat spams past her eyes faster than she’s ever seen.  When she calls time, she chides some of the people for cheating by commenting more than once.  “We’ll do this again later, since it’s so popular.  Take a little time to think about how long you’re willing to stay.  Moira had a wicked idea, and I think I might do it.  Raffle tickets will be one per day you offer up.  So if you’ll stay a week, seven tickets, and so on.  I’ll cap the tickets at thirty, though.  No forever offers.  This time.”

Heather pokes her randomizing script, and grins.  “Alright, we have a winner.  James61, you’re up.”

Before long, another split-screen video is set up, and a man with greying hair is smiling at Heather.  “I hope I’m not too old for you,” he says.

Heather smiles kindly.  “Not at all.  Thinking maybe a vintage dress would suit you best.  Perhaps a poodle dress?  I’ll go out dancing.”

“That sounds lovely,” James replies.

“Alright.  You’re on the friends list, and dueling...”  Heather’s eyes go wide at the heavily armored bighorn ram that appears in the battle space.  “Oho!  Making me work for it.  Awesome.”  She summons a trio of laser squirrels that dart and leap about, avoiding the slower creature’s attacks while whittling it down.  Exploding prairie dogs ambush them, destroying the laser squirrels in a puff of glitter.  A ten foot tall cyberdeer appears next, and neatly tosses the bighorn sheep out of play.

In the feed, James suddenly goes still, then sparkles away and vanishes.  Heather holds up a bright green poodle skirt, though instead of poodles there are bighorn sheep and prairie dogs prancing around its hem.  “Tada!  New dress.  Thanks for making it fun, James, I’ll be sure to return the favour.”

*** *** ***

Moira admired the new dress as it hung on the mannequin in Heather’s room.  The mannequin  had been Flint up until a few minutes ago.  “Dancing tonight, was it?”

“If you’re up for it.  The dress will disappear an hour after midnight, we can be home before then.  Flint gets to be my underwear, you’ll have to make do with something mundane.”

“Dancing with you will be anything but mundane.  Think I could get you to resize one of your old dresses to fit me?”

Heather shrugged.  “Do it yourself.  I’m pretty sure you still own everything in my closet for WitchyWays purposes.”

Moira got a wicked look on her face.  “Do you promise that everything in your closet is my possession?”

“Agreed.  Why are you grinning like that?”

Moira started tickling Heather mercilessly, then pushed her into the closet.  A moment later, a pretty blue poodle dress fluttered to the ground.  “Because I want to wear you again.”

Moira stripped out of her blouse and shorts, then stepped into the closet to put the dress on.  She tried to turn back and forth to see how it looked, but there wasn’t enough space.  Sighing, she stepped back into the room.  She waited, frowning.  “You’re not my possession any more.  We’re not in the closet.”

“So?” replied Heather.  “I like this.  Maybe you could go dancing with Flint?”

The mannequin animated, turning into a copy of Heather.  Flint danced forward and held out her arms.  “Shall we?”

Moira giggled.  “You sound exactly like her.  This is going to be very confusing.”

Flint pulled her into a dancing grip, and spun her about the room.  “Is it?”

Moira looked dazed.  “Is what?”

“Confusing,” replied Flint, pulling Moira in for a hug.

Moira sighed happily, and kissed Flint.  She only stopped when her dress started cheering.  Moira stumbled back a few steps, and wiped at her lips with the back of her hand.  “Holy crap.”

“Aww, was I that bad?” pouted Flint.

“I forgot.  I completely forgot.  This is insane, you’re a boy.”

Flint spun around, flaring out her skirt.  “I don’t look like a boy.  I don’t sound like a boy.”

“You sound way too much like Heather.  Can we at least... not do that?”

Flint waggled her tongue experimentally, and when she spoke again it was in her voice.  “Fine.  Can we talk about it?”

Moira sat heavily on Heather’s bed.  “I...”  she stroked Heather’s soft, swishy fabric.  “I could easily forget.  Even now.  Just treat her as a dress, and dance.  Treat you as her, make love to you as her.  Love you like I love her.  Do you see how wrong that is?”

“No,” said Flint and Heather at once.  “There’s nothing wrong with love,” added Heather.

“But Flint’s a boy!” wailed Moira.

“No,” said Heather emphatically.  “She is not.  If Flint wants to be a girl, she can be.”

“It’s not as easy as that, even with magic,” groused Moira.  “You felt who was leading the dancing, right?”

“Who says girls can’t lead?” protested Heather.  “If the two of us go out dancing, one of us will have to.”

Moira hung her head, then glanced up at Flint.  “It should be you dancing with Heather.  She promised to wear that dress, after all.”

Moira slipped out of Heather, and laid her on the bed.  “Everything in the closet, right?”  She strode over to the closet, closed her eyes... and a pink poodle skirt was hanging in her place.

Heather giggled.  “I should turn Flint into a dress too.  Then we just need to find four cute girls to wear us all.”

“Sounds fun,” agreed Flint, then crumpled into a pile of purple fabric.  The three of them giggled and talked for an hour before finally agreeing that someone had to wear someone for it to really be fun.  Heather sighed, and reformed.  She picked up the green dress, and slipped it on.  “Okay you two.  Which of you am I dancing with?”

“Both of us!” cried Moira.  “And I know just the trick...”  She returned to human, but was wearing the pink poodle dress even so.  “Flint, can you turn yourself into you and your dress?”

“Hm.  No.  I bet Heather could do it.”

Heather boggled at Moira for a moment.  “Why are you undressing?”

“Because we can swap dresses.”

“Flint?  Do it.”

Flint slithered out of the purple dress, and handed it over to Moira.  “This is going to be... interesting.  And very distracting.  Are you sure you want to wear me?”

Moira giggled.  “Let Heather lead, and I can trick my mind into seeing a girl.  Helps that you look the part.  Damn, when did you get hot?”

Flint waved at Heather.  “I think that’s her fault.”

Moira glared at her friend.  “Dirty pool.  You know what turns me on.”

Heather giggled.  “Guilty as charged.  And sweetie?  I won’t mind at all if you kiss her.  I love you both dearly, and I want you two to be happy together.”

“And if I stuff you in the closet to turn you into sexy lingerie, then wear you while I seduce her?”

“I would love you both even more.”

Flint leaned in close to Moira, and whispered something in her ear that made her blush incandescently.  “Oooor, we could do that.  Yep.  Fuck, Flint, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Dancing first.  Then we’ll see,” said Flint with an impish grin.

*** *** ***

The trio returned to Heather’s home, giddy and happy.  Mostly happy.  Over the course of a couple hours at a local dance club, they’d been approached by quite a few guys.  Heather had deflected their attentions effortlessly, eyes only for her loves.  Flint basked in it, and danced with the ones who complimented her best, and none of the ones who cursed at Heather or Moira for turning them down.

Moira had gotten angrier and angrier with each one.  Many kisses and no few drinks had been required to cool her down.  Heather had driven, so she’d stuck to drinking only water.  Flint suspected her new body’s alcohol tolerance was less than she was used to, so she’d only had two drinks and was still a little tipsy.  Between the two of them, they’d managed to carry Moira back to Heather’s father’s car, and once home, back down to Heather’s room.

“Think there’s a glyph of sobering?” asked Heather, after they’d poured Moira into her bed.

“Well... there’s the antitoxin potion.  But she’d have to be a companion for that to work,” mused Flint.  “And she’s too far gone to duel.”

“I could turn you into an antitoxin dose,” mused Heather.  “But I don’t think that would do good things to you if she drank you.  Oooh, I know...”

Flint made a face.  “What’s that weird taste in my mouth?”

“Antitoxin saliva.”

Flint blinked, and shook her head.  “Oh!  Wow.  Works fast.  So... I spit in her mouth?”

“I was thinking something a little more romantic,” giggled Heather.  “Kiss her.”

Flint did so eagerly, and soon Moira was stirring.  She sat up abruptly and wiped her mouth.  “Flint?  What the hell?”

“My idea,” said Heather.  “You were wasted, I set Flint up with antitoxin in her saliva.”

“Can I lose that now?” asked Flint.  “It tastes like I’ve been gargling slugs.”

Moira’s face contorted into a horrified grimace, and she rushed from the room.  Running water and gargling could be heard from the bathroom down the hall.  When she returned, Heather asked, “Feeling better?”

Moira stuck her tongue out at Heather.  “No thanks to the image of slugs.  Where is Flint, anyway?”

“Turned her into a slug.”

Moira’s wide eyed reaction made Heather giggle until she ran out of breath.  Eventually she admitted she’d turned Flint into the nightshirt she was wearing, having put her ‘guest dress’ up in the closet while Moira was “indisposed”.

“Should have guessed,” muttered Moira.  “What with the cute slug on the shirt and all.”

Heather started giggling again.  “Yep.  So it was kinda true.  No more guys ogling you, just you and me tonight.”

Moira sighed, and flopped onto her back on Heather’s bed.  “What do I have to do so they get a clue?  Grow fangs and spines?  Because if you find me a porcupine glyph, I totally would.”

“Most of them took no for an answer.  Though that one idiot, I’d have cursed if I could.  Pity I can only transform WitchyWays players.”

Moira craned her neck to look up at Heather.  “How do you know you can’t?  You’ve blown past all the game’s other limits.”

Heather looked away guiltily.  “I kinda tried on him.  Wouldn’t take.  Maybe if he gave permission...”

“You could probably get most guys’ permission with a smile and wink.”

Heather’s gaze snapped back to Moira.  “They’d...  They’d have to give me permission to transform them.  Explicitly.  But...  You’re not wrong.  Damn.  Wish I’d thought to tease him into it.  Bah.  He probably has somewhere to be in the morning anyway.”

“Is it bad that I kinda want to go back and try it?  Find the sleaziest guy in the bar and turn him into...”  Moira looked puzzled.  “What, though?  I mean, I don’t want to wear him.  Ew.”

“Shoes, so you can walk all over him?”

Moira snorted.  “Knowing my luck, he’d get off on that.”

Heather studied her.  “So?  I bet I could find guys in my followers that’d love to have you degrade them.”

“Hmf.  It’s no fun if they like it.”

“You liked wearing me...”

“That’s different.  I wanted you to enjoy it.”

Heather sat beside Moira on the bed, and leaned back against the wall.  “Would it help if there were no obvious signs he liked it?  I mean, he’d just be shoes.  Not very expressive, y’know?  You could play the cruel mistress part to the hilt.  Maybe get Flint to do the voice?”

Moira sighed.  “It’s a nice offer.  But I’d still know.  And... I’d feel like I was tormenting Flint.  He’s nice, Heather.  She’s nice.  Something like that.”  She tilted her head away, staring at nothing in particular.  “I like her.  Him...”  She wrinkled her nose.  “Meh.  Confusing.”

“Tell me about it,” laughed Heather.  “I have two lovers, both of which spend time wearing or being worn by me.  I kind of want to turn into your panties and forget about being human for a while.”

“Closet’s over there,” said Moira, gesturing vaguely in the right direction without looking.

Heather hopped up from the bed, and trotted over to the closet.  Moira sat up fully, and stared her in the eye.  “Are you sure?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love being in charge and using my power...  But a girl needs downtime.”

Heather fluttered to the floor, and Moira rolled out of bed to go fetch her.  “Part one done.  Are you really going to make yourself brainless?”

“Oooh,” cooed the panties.  “I could.  Just need to connect...  Yeah, that’ll do it.”

“Alarm clock?” asked Moira.

“Nope.  If I hear my name, I’ll wake up.  See ya.”  The panties went silent.

Moira gave them a little shake.  “Girl?” she asked carefully.  “Can you hear me?”  There was no response, not even the slightest twitch.  She slipped the panties on.  “Going to have to get you to do this to Flint.  Might not wear him as panties, but a mindless bra?”

Moira glanced to the closet.  Heather had been wearing Flint, after all.  “Hey sleepshirt, are you still awake?”

After getting no response, she crouched down to reach for the shirt.  Just a shirt.  No sign of Flint at all.  Moira wondered if Heather had tricked her, then she looked at the shirt with her mind’s eye... and saw that Flint had been mostly muted.  Enough that it couldn’t talk, but not enough that it couldn’t feel.  An impish grin spread across her face, and she slipped it on.

“G’night, both of you.  Sweet dreams.”

*** *** ***

Moira yawned and stretched as she woke in the morning.  She looked around and took a moment to orient herself.  Right.  Heather’s room.  Heather’s bed.  No Heather, no Flint.

A glance down at the cute slug on her sleepshirt brought back all the memories of the night before, and she giggled.  “Mmm.  Sleeping in people clothes is the best.  But I want my bestie back.  Heather, wakey wakey!”

Moira’s panties twitched, wriggling against her in delicate and lovely ways that distracted her quite thoroughly.  Once she finally pulled the panties off, she was panting, and the panties were soaked.  “Damn, girl.  Now you need a hand wash.”

Moira carried her sweetie-panties through to the nearby bathroom, soaking them in warm water before gently sudsing them up and making sure they were thoroughly clean.  She was squeezing them dry in a hand-towel when they finally spoke up.  “Mmm.  A girl could get used to this kind of treatment.  Bath and massage all in one.”

Moira laughed.  “I could get used to this, too.  You sure you want to go back to human?”

The panties melted out of her hands and flowed into Heather’s naked body.  She snuggled up against Moira and sighed happily.  “Oh, yeah.  Panties can’t hug.”

Moira kissed her soundly.  “Yeah, I’d miss this.  But part time...”

Heather giggled.  “Speaking of which.  Did you give Flint a good show?”

Moira looked down at the sleep-shirt she was still wearing and laughed.  “I hope so.  You left it semi-aware.”

Heather snapped her fingers, and the shirt yawned.  “Hey.  What’d I miss... oooh!  Good stuff.”

“You remember it?” asked Moira.

“Oh yeah,” enthused Flint.  “Passively, but... wow.  Some really nice memories.  That... doesn’t creep you out?”

Moira stretched her shirt out so she could look down at it more easily, and saw Flint’s face in place of the slug.  “It really should, shouldn’t it?  You were there for something... private.  But you have been before.”

“Yeah.  You didn’t want me to be your boobs, or really anything to do with me back then.”

Moira frowned at something.  “You still sound female.  Can we...  Look, I need to face this.  Properly.”

Flint melted off of Heather and reformed into his original body.  He quickly covered his private parts.  “Uh, clothes?”

“This might be a better conversation over breakfast,” agreed Heather.

Moira crafted new silk pajamas for each of them from various things in Heather’s closet, giving Flint a cute purple outfit that was only slightly more masculine than the frilly pajamas she and Heather got.  Flint put it on and posed in the mirror.  “Cute.”

Moira laughed.  “Really?  You look like a guy pretending to be a sexy... damn it.”

“What?” asked Heather.

Moira waved her arms at Flint.  “That!  How the hell is that... sexy?  I’m not into guys, but Flint is standing there, a guy in something that would look sexy on her female alternate, and looks... hot.  I could have sworn I wasn’t bi.”

“Maybe it’s not about the gender, but the wrapping?  Imagine a hunky fireman wearing robes like that.”

Moira’s cheeks pinkened, then she gave Heather a shove.  “You.  In the closet.  Now.”

Heather smirked and stepped into it.  A moment later she added six inches in height, and a good deal of muscle tone.  “Well, girl?  Is this hunk of man-flesh in sexy pink PJs hot?”

Moira growled in frustration.  “No.  Yes.  I don’t know.”

Heather strode out of the closet and scooped her friend into her arms.  His arms.  “Talk to me.”

“No.  No no no.”

Heather gave herself a little shake, keeping the height and muscle but going back to her usual curves.  She picked Moira up in her arms, and squeezed her tight.  “It’s okay.”

Moira melted against her, shivering.  “Thanks.”

“Any time.  Anywhere.  As anything.  Always.”

Moira burrowed into Heather’s arms.  “I love you.”

Heather purred happily, and carried Moira toward the door.  A glance melted it open, and Flint followed her up the stairs to the kitchen.

“Good morning,” said Heather’s father.  “Flint, right?”

Flint swallowed, then nodded.  “Yessir.”

“Did you have a nice night?”  The question was mild, and yet...

Flint bobbed his head.  “Spent most of it as clothing.”

Heather’s father glanced over at her.  “Nothing untoward, then?”

“Flint has been lovely.  And... not with him, no.”  Heather gave Moira another body-enfolding hug, then set her in a chair.  “Anyone for pancakes?”

Her father stood from the table, and watched Heather work in the kitchen.  “You’ve grown.”

Heather chuckled as she easily reached for a glass from the top shelf.  “Might keep it.  Being tall is nice.”

“Not entirely what I meant.  You were out last night, I worried...  But I’m beginning to think I needn’t.”

Heather glanced to Moira and Flint, who both nodded.  She trickled power into her size glyph until her head brushed the ceiling.  Then she sat on the floor and continued growing until her head reached the ceiling again.  Muscle corded in her arms, and she flexed one.  “Perhaps not,” was all she said.

Her father laughed.  “Showing off?”

“Trying for intimidation, but... yeah.  This is a fraction of my power.  If someone had tried to hurt me or mine, they would have regretted it.”

“Yours, hm?  Both of them?” asked her father, looking back to the pair at the table.

Heather dwindled until she was exactly her father’s height, and stood to look him in the eye.  “Yes.  I love them both dearly, and will not choose one over the other.  They both seem happy with the idea.”

Flint and Moira nodded eagerly.

“I’m glad to see it.  Though it’ll complicate your wedding plans.”

“Daaaad!”

He laughed.  “I know, putting the cart ahead of the horse.”  He picked up his briefcase, and headed toward the door.  “Have a great day, you three.”

Heather waved as he left, then turned back to her pancake preparations.  Once she had the first batch on the griddle, she returned to the table.  “Well.  Damn him, but now I can’t stop thinking about it.  What kind of wedding would we have?”

“I could be your dress,” offered Flint eagerly.

Heather grinned.  “I’d love that, but it doesn’t seem fair.”

“Right,” nodded Flint.  “Moira needs something special to wear, too.  I’m sure we could get volunteers.”

“No!” protested  Heather, immediately.  “Nobody else.  Just us.  Just...”  She studied Moira, whose eyes were shining bright.  “What?”

“Are you going to ask?”

“I...  How?  I mean...  There’s so much to think about.  We can’t all get married.  Not legally.”

“Psh, screw legal.”

“You two could,” said Flint.  “I’d be happy as your dress, or anything else you need.”

Heather smiled at him, then cursed and darted to the griddle.  She flipped the pancakes just before they would have burned.  “Look, I appreciate what you’re saying, Flint.  And it is a lovely offer.  But it’s unbalanced.  Two wives and a ... what, exactly?”

“Possession.  I am yours, remember?” said Flint with a broad smile, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Heather turned away, tending to the pancakes with more attention than they needed.  Once the last set was off the grill, she brought them to the table, and the three set to eating.

“It’s not right,” said Heather at last.  “I have to free you, Flint.”

“No you don’t.  Look, being the wardrobe of the most powerful witch in the city, maybe the province... that’s a huge step up for me.”

“You’re the reason I am that powerful,” protested Heather.  “It’s not fair for me to turn you into...”

“Anything you feel like?” asked Flint with a grin.  “Do you think that I find this a bad deal?  Because I don’t.  I love being yours.  I will happily be your wedding dress, or your veil.”

“Honeymoon lingerie,” added Moira with a smirk, giggling at how Flint’s eyes lit up.  “I like the idea, Heather.  A toy for us to play with.”

“Flint is not a toy,” growled Heather.  “I’m not going to consign him to third-class status.  Either we’re all equal, or forget it.”

“How can we be equal?” asked Flint.  “We can’t all get legally married.”

Heather growled gutturally, and the other two looked at her nervously.  “What?”

“You have claws.”

Heather glanced down at her hands, they looked more like eagle talons.  She gave them a shake, and in moments they were back to normal.  “Crap.  I hadn’t realized how dangerous I could get when angry.”

“You can turn into an orca mermaid big enough to eat this house in one bite,” reminded Finn.  “Which would be pretty cool to watch, if it wasn’t a house I happened to be inside.”

Heather made a face.  “Ugh, can you imagine how awful that would taste?  Especially a rotten old house that nobody wants?  Bleah.”

“Better?” asked Flint.

Heather sighed, and opened her arms for a hug.  Both Moira and Flint moved around the table to hug her, one from each side.  “Thanks.  How set are you on the marriage thing, Moira?”

“Just tell me you love me.”

“I love you.  I love both of you so much.  I want to carve a out a personal kingdom and turn it into a poly-friendly domain...”

“No smash,” chuckled Flint as Heather started to tower over them.

Heather let her height dwindle once more.  “Whoops.  Going to have to keep an eye on that.”

“You need safety covers on your more dangerous glyphs,” suggested Flint.  Then he frowned and sketched something in the air.  “Uh, about like... that.”

Heather studied the glyph hanging there.  “I like it.  Needs one extra detail, though.  One that lets you two shut me down if both of you agree.”

Flint shook his head.  “No.  You don’t need that, it’d just be a crutch.  And an unfair power imbalance.”

Heather harrumphed.  “There already is a power imbalance.  I can’t keep you as a possession, Flint.  It’s not right.”

“You were fine with the dress last night.  Why is turning me into a dress wrong?”

Heather studied Flint.  “Because...”

“And you’re okay with me being Queen of the Closet, and turning you into clothes while you’re in there,” added Moira.

“But that’s temporary.  Ooooh,” murmured Heather.  “Starting to see how to make this work.  Can we... put three of those deals together?”

“Three closets?” asked Moira.

“You get to keep the closet.  I’d get the rest of my room.  Flint...”

“A cardboard box?  You know, like the Calvin and Hobbes transmogrifier?” asked Flint eagerly.  “Put someone inside, close it, change them into whatever.”

Heather and Moira giggled and agreed.  They drafted up a three-way contract that would let each of them become possessions circumstantially.  Heather’s domain got reduced to the rug in the middle of her room, not the entire room.  A duration clause was added, anyone transformed would turn back after two hours.  Flint argued for longer, but settled on two hours instead of just the one hour the other two favoured.

When they went to agree to the contract, they discovered that Flint could not do so.

“Bother,” sighed Heather.  “This again.  I’m just going to have to put you in your box for the day.”

“Can you turn me into a plush tiger first?” asked Flint, hopefully.  “It’d make the first use of the transmogrifier more special.”

A moment later, Heather scooped up an orange-and-black plush in her arms.  She carried it downstairs, found a large box in her father’s stash, and tucked Flint inside.  “See you in a day.”

“G’night,” murmured the plush as the lid closed.

“There.  For Flint it’ll be like no time has passed.  For us, it’ll be a day.  On the plus side, you have me all to yourself...”

Moira grinned.  “Oooh, the things we could do.”

Heather smirked as she headed to her computer chair.  “You scheme.  I should check on everyone I changed last night.”

“Can we make the carpet agreement as a side deal until the full contract?” wheedled Moira.

Heather giggled.  “Okay.  Just promise I can treat you as a possession while you’re on the rug.”

Moira did so, then added, “and if changed on the rug, I’ll be unable to change myself for the next hour.”

Heather glanced back from her computer, to see Moira standing on the rug.  “Oooh, new panties.”

Moira fluttered to the ground, and Heather quickly hopped back out of her chair to put her newest clothing item on.  “Yeah, this is going to be fun...  But now that you can’t complain, I have some work to do.”

She checked in on Jennifer and the other three people she’d turned into sex pets.  The three she’d changed from the auction had all reverted, though one was still shaking it off, and eager to try again.  All of them expressed interest in being able to “do that again”.

Jennifer’s husband answered her text, clearly worried that his wife was still a “drooling idiot”.  With Heather’s help he discovered that she’d cleared her schedule all the way through to the weekend.  Plaintively, he asked if she could change Jennifer back early, as he didn’t have the stamina to keep up with her needs.

Jennifer was not happy to be changed back early, but grumblingly accepted the necessity.

Heather checked on her review site next, finding kind comments and five star ratings from two of the bed pets.  James61 had also left a comment, thanking her profusely for the experience, and ending with “Talk about a happy daze.”

She giggled at that, then left a quick status update for her fans, promising another live video that evening.

Then Heather tickled her panties awake.  “Okay, girlie.  I’m all yours.”

She didn’t make it to the bed.