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Author's Note:And I'm back again. Sorry for the lull in posting. This one is another Halloween story. Its in vain of a similar story I posted some months ago. It might feel like a forced fem situation but once again bear with me to the end. It is also a continuation of my stories, Trick and Treated and Pomeggedon. I recommend reading those stories if you haven't already. Chronologically, Pomeggedon is actually the first one. UPDATE: A friend pointed out a plot hole I forgot in the epilogue bit. I've added it in now for more clarification :D
 

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The smell of wet asphalt always brought it back. Jason stood at the bus stop, rain tapping his hood, and remembered that day in fourth grade. He’d worn his new sneakers to school – bright white, impossible to miss. Some kid "accidentally" stomped on them in the crowded hallway. Muddy footprint right on the toe. The laughter felt like a punch. He’d spent the rest of the day trying to hide his feet under the desk, face burning.

That memory clung as he pushed open the door to "Second Chances Thrift." Inside, dust motes danced in the weak light filtering through grimy windows. The air smelled stale, like old books and forgotten lives. He wandered past racks of faded flannel shirts and chipped coffee mugs, his mission clear: find something decent for Lily’s birthday. Twelve was a big deal, and money was tight. Mom’s "maybe next month" had become a tired refrain.

His fingers brushed against a stack of board games when a flash of vibrant pink caught his eye. Tucked behind a cracked ceramic lamp, on a shelf near the floor, was a doll box. Not just any doll. Molly. The exclusive "Glitterati" edition, with the holographic gown and tiny faux-diamond tiara. Lily had obsessed over her for months, plastering bedroom walls with pictures ripped from magazines. Jason’s breath hitched. It looked untouched, the plastic window pristine, the box corners sharp, the price tag absurdly low. Like it had been placed there just for him.

He glanced around the quiet shop. The elderly clerk was absorbed in a crossword. Heart pounding, Jason snatched the box. The cardboard felt cool and smooth. He traced the embossed Molly logo, a strange little thrill running through him. It was perfect. He paid quickly, stuffing the doll deep into his backpack before the bus ride home, the box pressing reassuringly against his spine.

No one was home when he got there. He rushed through the quiet house, like a ninja. He made it to his room, removed the door from his backpack. He held the box in his hands, staring at it in the package. He could see why girls his sister's age were obsessed with something like this. There was something about it, something he couldn't quite place. He absently rubbed the plastic window then caught himself.

LET’S BE FRIENDS.
LET’S BE FRIENDS.

What was he doing?

Weirded out, he quickly took the box and opened his closet. He needed to keep this thing hidden until Lily's birthday next month. He made a mental note to text his mother about it later.

He went to his desk to do his homework like a "good boy" and afterwards, he spent the night on the computer gaming with his friends.

He never did text his mother though.

Jason woke to sunlight stinging his eyes, groggy and disoriented. Something felt... off. Not wrong, exactly, just misplaced. Like walking into his room and sensing the furniture had shifted a millimeter when no one was home. He rubbed sleep from his eyes, swung his legs off the bed, and padded towards the bathroom. The cool wood floor under his bare feet felt normal. The faint smell of yesterday’s pizza lingering in the hallway felt normal. Yet that nagging sense of imbalance clung to him, a low hum beneath the surface of the morning.

Stumbling to the bathroom, he peed quickly, flushed and went to the mirror. He frowned. He was average looking at best---boring hazel eyes, muddy brown hair. He was neither handsome or overly manly. In fact, he was barely able to grow facial hair. It was a nagging, annoying feeling to look boring. He rubbed his chin, hoping for something. But still it was bare as a baby's bottom.

Stepping away, he felt an inch in his chest. He scratched it before going back into his room. He walked over to his closet to get some clothes from the day. The door was slightly ajar but he probably didn't close it properly yesterday. Opening it fully, he noticed the box for the Molly doll was sitting on the floor. He frowned. Had it fallen off the shelf? Annoyed, he picked it up and put it back where he hid it last yesterday. He pushed a box in front of it just to make sure.

Grabbing a t-shirt and jeans, he went over to his dresser to get some cleaners.

When he was getting socks, he paused. All the rolls were white save for one.

It was pink.

He rolled his eyes. Mom must have put it there by mistake.

He grabbed the pink socks, finished getting dressed and left the room.

LET’S BE FRIENDS!

Downstairs, his mother and Lily were already at the kitchen table. As soon as he entered, he playfully threw the roll of socks at his sister.

"Mom put those in my drawer by mistake" he said, dropping into the seat across from her.

Lily caught the socks mid-air, her nose wrinkling. "Pink?" She tossed them back immediately, the soft bundle smacking him in the face before falling unwanted to the floor. "Gross, Jason. And since when do I wear pink? You know I hate it." She stabbed her toast, her usual soccer jersey hanging loose over bony shoulders.

Jason scuffed. It was funny how much of a tomboy she was. Yet she still secretly loved collecting those stupid Molly dolls. Not that she'd ever admit to anyone, especially her friends.

Their mother bent to pick up the socks. She stared at them. "I must have accidentally dyed one of your pairs in the wash, Jay" she said, smiling apologetically. "Sorry"

Lily giggled. "I think you should wear them, bro, pink is so you"

He shot her a look before eating his toast.

The walk to school felt longer than usual. Jason kept adjusting his backpack straps, the worn canvas suddenly irritating against his shoulders. He spotted his friends, Ben and Leo, leaning against the bike racks near the main entrance. Ben was mid-story, waving his hands dramatically, while Leo nodded along, sipping from a soda can. Jason approached, forcing his usual slouch.

"Hey," Jason mumbled, dropping his bag at his feet.

Ben paused, squinting at him. "Dude, what's up with your voice? Sounds kinda... scratchy."

Jason cleared his throat, the sound raspy and unfamiliar. "Just tired," he muttered, kicking a loose pebble.

Leo chuckled. "Or maybe he's finally hitting puberty."

Ben snorted, but Jason felt a prickle of heat crawl up his neck. He shoved his hands deep into his jeans pockets, annoyed. They were just razzing him because they knew how peeved he was that he couldn't grow a beard. He was fifteen after all, puberty had come and gone. It was just that he was the shortest of the three of them and the only one who had yet to shave.

Ben and Leo continued to laugh at his expense as they made their way into the school.

Jason pushed open his locker door with more force than necessary, the metal clang echoing in the crowded hallway. As he shoved books inside, he caught a familiar scent – vanilla and something floral. Amy stood at the locker beside his, carefully arranging her notebooks. Her golden blonde hair fell in soft waves around her face as she concentrated, biting her lower lip slightly. Jason’s throat tightened. He’d barely spoken to her all year despite sharing this locker wall since September.

"Hey," he managed, his voice still raspy. It came out quieter than he intended, almost lost in the hallway noise.

Amy turned, surprised that he actually was talking. But more than that, she noticed something else. Something different. "You ok?" she asked, giving him a sideways glance. "You seem....out of sorts?"

Jason was over the moon. Amy Sullivan was finally talking to him. This was the best day of his life.

He faked a cough. "Maybe it's a cold?"

She nodded along with him. "Well I hope you feel better" she said slowly then smiled. "I gotta get to class now."

He watched her go. He was ashamed to admit he admired her butt in those tight jeans of hers.

After watching her go, he realized he was going to be late for his first class, so quickly rushed to it.

Jason slumped into his seat in Mr. Henderson’s history class, the drone of the lecture about the Industrial Revolution washing over him like static. He tried to focus on the dusty chalkboard, but his mind kept drifting back to Amy’s concerned glance, the soft scent of vanilla clinging faintly in his memory. A strange, low ache pulsed behind his temples, unfamiliar and insistent. Was he actually getting sick? He shifted uncomfortably; his jeans felt oddly tight across the hips, the denim bunching in a way it never had before. He tugged at the waistband discreetly.

He flitted from class to class until lunch. He met up with Ben and Leo for lunch. Both of his friends were visibly concerned for him.

"Dude, you really don't look too good" announced Ben as Jason slumped into a chair.

"I agree dude" said Leo, mouthful of sandwich.

Jason had a sudden overwhelming urge to tell him off for talking with his mouth full but he suppressed it.

While Ben and Leo debated the merits of the new zombie shooter game, Jason’s gaze drifted past their heads, drawn to a cluster of girls laughing near the cafeteria windows. He watched Amy tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, the simple gesture suddenly fascinating. The ache in his temples intensified, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He felt a strange pull, a yearning to be over there, sharing their jokes, basking in that easy camaraderie. He blinked, startled by the intensity of the feeling. Since when did he care about girly gossip? He shoved a tasteless bite of pizza into his mouth, forcing his attention back to Leo’s rant about respawn points.

He just didn't feel it. Sighing, he looked back over at Amy and her friends.

Amy stared. It was only for a brief moment. She looked concerned. Then quickly turned back to her friends.

The rest of the day felt much the same. He felt off, giving some weird looks from people in class when asked to answer a question or read aloud.

At the end of the day, he didn't meet Amy at their lockers but there was a post-it on his locker door. It was a simple note of concern: GET BETTER SOON, A.

Seeing it made him feel better already.

He put the post-it in his jacket pocket, swapped out books in his locker then started out of the building. At the bike rack, he almost went for a pink girl's ten speed before stopping. What the hell was he doing? He shook it off and went to his bike. He looked around, glad to see he was alone. That would have been really embarrassing if someone saw that.

The ride home was strangely quiet. The usual roar of the wind past his ears felt muffled, distant. Instead, he became acutely aware of the rhythmic click-click-click of his bike chain, the faint squeak of the handlebars as he turned corners, and the soft thump-thump-thump of his heart against his ribs. He pedaled slower than usual, his legs feeling heavier, less coordinated. Every bump in the sidewalk jolted through him, making his hips ache in a new, unfamiliar way. He kept adjusting his grip, the handlebars feeling wider, harder to hold comfortably. The familiar route felt alien, the houses passing by in a blur of muted colors. He didn't see Ben or Leo anywhere.

He leaned his bike against the garage wall, its familiar scrape against the siding strangely grating today. Inside, the house was silent and still, thick with the scent of lemon cleaner and yesterday's coffee grounds. The emptiness pressed in, amplifying the low hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. He dropped his backpack with a thud near the stairs, the sound echoing sharply in the quiet. He stood for a moment in the foyer, listening to the silence, feeling strangely exposed. The quiet felt heavy, expectant.

Jason climbed the stairs slowly, each step creaking underfoot. His legs felt leaden, the muscles in his thighs protesting with a dull, unfamiliar ache. He paused outside his bedroom door, hand hovering over the knob. A prickle ran down his spine, a sense of intrusion. He pushed the door open cautiously. The sight hit him like a physical blow: the closet door stood wide open, a dark rectangle against the wall. And there, sitting squarely in the center of his rumpled blue comforter, was the Molly doll box. Its vibrant pink packaging seemed to glow in the dim afternoon light filtering through the blinds. The plastic window gleamed, reflecting the room back at him in a distorted, unsettling way.

*How in the hell...?*

He walked slowly over to the box, picking it up. Instinctively he turned it in his hands, reading the all too familiar slogan for the brand on the back.

"Hi, I'm Molly. Let's Be Friends" he said softly.

The words felt strange on his tongue. Too high. Too soft. He cleared his throat, but the raspy edge was gone, replaced by something lighter. Panic fluttered in his chest. He shoved the box back into the closet, slamming the door shut. This time, he jammed a chair under the knob for good measure. His hands trembled slightly.

He looked around his room – the epicenter of his fifteen-year-old boy's existence. Posters of edgy Indie rock bands and pixelated game heroes plastered the walls. A high-end gaming PC hummed on the cluttered desk, its multi-colored LEDs pulsing like a digital heartbeat. Discarded energy drink cans formed precarious towers beside a keyboard crusted with crumbs. The floor was a battlefield of dirty laundry, tangled cables, and an abandoned controller. His bed, usually a nest of twisted sheets and discarded hoodies, was now just a rumpled blue expanse where that pink box had sat. It felt alien, like someone had subtly rearranged his world while he slept.

Why, though? Why was it so alien? Why did he feel suddenly out of place? Looking around made his skin crawl slightly.

LET’S BE FRIENDS!!
LET’S BE FRIENDS!!

Trying to ignore the feeling, he stumbled into one of his usual games. The very same zombie shooter Ben and Leo couldn't shut up about at lunch today. It was his favorite game yesterday. Today, it felt violent, gory and messy. He only spent about 20 minutes playing but after dying three times, he shut it off. His hand was trembling. What the hell was wrong with him? What's more, why did playing it make him feel "icky".

Frustrated he decided to cool his thoughts with a shower.

He grabbed a towel and headed to the family bathroom. The familiar scent of his dad's pine soap and his own cheap, sporty body wash is gone. Instead, the air hangs thick with a cloying sweetness – strawberries and vanilla cream. He stared at the shower caddy. His blue bottle of "Mountain Rush" body wash is replaced by one labeled "Berry Bliss." His "Clean & Crisp" shampoo is gone, swapped for "Silky Smooth Hydration" with a picture of cascading hair on the label. Lily’s prank. It had to be. She must have found the doll yesterday and was messing with him. Payback for trying to say pink socks were hers, probably. Annoyance flared, sharp and hot. That little brat.

He turned the water on hot, steam quickly filling the small room. The scalding spray hits his shoulders, instantly easing the strange ache that’s settled deep in his muscles since morning. He hesitated, then grabbed the "Berry Bliss" bottle. The gel was thick and pink, smelling overwhelmingly sugary. He hated it. He absolutely hated it. But as he lathered it over his skin, the suds felt… incredible. Rich and creamy, leaving his arms and chest strangely soft, smoother than he remembered them ever being. It was unnerving, this sudden awareness of his own skin. He rinses quickly, the water sluicing away the pink foam, but the lingering sensation of softness remains, clinging like the scent.

Next comes the shampoo. "Silky Smooth Hydration." He squeezed a dollop into his palm, the pearly white substance cool against his skin. It smells faintly floral, like expensive soap. He worked it into his scalp, his fingers massaging through his short, muddy brown hair. The lather was thick and luxurious, and despite himself, a low sigh escapes him. The tension knotting his neck since he found the doll on his bed this morning begins to loosen. It feels ridiculously good, this simple act of washing his hair with something clearly not meant for him. He stood under the spray longer than necessary, letting the warmth and the strangely pleasant scent envelop him, a traitorous sense of calm washing over him.

He hated to admit but it was one of the best showers he ever had.

When it was over, he absently wrapped the towel around his body and went to his room.

LET’S BE FRIENDS!!!

He tried to distract himself by doing his homework before dinner. It didn't help much and when he went to dinner, Lily gave him a weird look.

"Did you moisturize?" she asked, leaning in and sniffing him. "Is that Berry Bliss?"

He shrugged. "Someone replaced all my stuff" he said accusingly.

"You think I would do something so weak and lame?" she asked, almost offended.

He ignored it. It was clearly her. "Were you in my room?"

She gave him a look like his head was on fire. "Why would I go there?"

He scoffed but said nothing more. It was clearly her and now she was taking great pride in messing with him. She was a brat like that.

That night, Jason flopped onto his bed, exhausted. He grabbed his phone, fumbling with the earbuds. He needed something loud, something angry to drown out the weirdness – maybe that thrashing metal track Ben always blasted. He tapped his usual playlist icon. Instead of the familiar skull logo, a shimmering pink heart filled the screen. Confused, he scrolled. Gone were the gritty guitars and aggressive beats. In their place: sugary pop melodies, breathy vocals singing about crushes and dancing, synth-heavy tracks with infectious, bouncy rhythms. Names he vaguely recognized from Lily’s room or overheard in the cafeteria hallway. He stared, bewildered. Who would do this? How? His thumb hovered over a track titled "Sparkle Dreams." Against his will, a strange curiosity prickled. What did it even sound like?

He jabbed the play button, bracing for cringe. A bright, chiming intro filled his ears, followed by a smooth, soaring female voice. It was undeniably… catchy. The melody wrapped around him, light and upbeat, completely unlike the chaotic noise he usually preferred. He found his foot tapping almost imperceptibly against the mattress, a traitorous rhythm syncing with the beat. The lyrics talked about feeling hopeful, about stars aligning – silly stuff, really. Yet, a tiny, unfamiliar warmth bloomed in his chest, a stark contrast to the frustration simmering beneath. He tried to scoff, to pull the earbuds out, but his hand paused halfway. The sound was… comforting? He closed his eyes, letting the saccharine wave wash over him, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly despite his internal protest.

LET’S BE FRIENDS!!!!
LET’S BE FRIENDS!!!!
LET’S BE FRIENDS!!!!

The next morning dawned surprisingly clear. Jason woke feeling… lighter. The persistent headache was gone, replaced by a strange sense of calm. The weird feeling had vanished too. He stretched, the movement fluid and easy. As he got ready, pulling on jeans that felt comfortably loose again, he caught himself humming a faint, unfamiliar tune under his breath. It was bright and melodic, sticking in his head like gum on a shoe. He paused, frowning. Where had he heard that? He shook it off, grabbing his backpack. The doll box remained hidden, the chair still jammed firmly under the closet doorknob. Maybe yesterday was just a fluke, a weird combination of stress and Lily’s stupid prank. Relief washed over him, cool and clean.

School passed in a pleasant haze. History class dragged less. Math formulas clicked easier. Even Ben’s loud jokes seemed less grating. Jason drifted through the halls, the sugary melody still looping softly in his mind. He barely registered Leo complaining about gym class or Ben debating the best nacho toppings. His focus felt softer, diffused. He caught Amy’s eye once across the crowded cafeteria; she gave him a small, tentative smile, and he managed a quick, genuine one back before looking away, a faint warmth blooming in his cheeks. The usual urge to dissect that interaction was absent, replaced by a simple, quiet contentment. The frantic energy of the school day felt muffled, distant, like watching it through thick glass.

The final bell’s shrill ring felt jarring after the day’s calm. Jason gathered his books slowly, the familiar weight of his backpack feeling oddly cumbersome. As he walked towards the bike racks, he passed the girls' bathroom. The door swung open, releasing a wave of floral perfume and giggles. Instinctively, he inhaled deeply. The scent – vanilla, jasmine, something sweetly artificial – washed over him, unexpectedly pleasant. He paused for a fraction of a second, catching a glimpse of pink stalls and glittery stickers on the mirror before the door swung shut. A strange pull tugged at him, a fleeting curiosity about that bright, fragrant space he’d never noticed before. He shook his head sharply, pushing the bizarre thought away, and hurried towards his bike.

The ride home was different. The usual rush of wind felt softer, almost caressing. He pedaled steadily, the sugary pop melody from last night looping insistently in his head. Without realizing it, his lips parted, and a soft, breathy hum escaped him – the chorus of "Sparkle Dreams," perfectly pitched. He snapped his mouth shut, cheeks flushing hot. *What am I doing?* Yet, the tune felt comforting, anchoring him amidst the unsettling calm that had settled over him since morning. He focused on the road, the rhythmic *whir* of his tires on pavement syncing with the internal music, pushing aside the lingering strangeness.

Back in his room, Jason tossed his backpack onto the familiar chaos of his desk. He kicked off his sneakers, the worn soles landing softly on a discarded t-shirt. The room felt... quieter than usual. He stretched, arching his back, a faint sigh escaping him as tension released from muscles he hadn't consciously known were tight. The lingering scent of "Berry Bliss," faint but unmistakable, clung to his skin from the morning shower. He wrinkled his nose slightly, yet didn't actively dislike it anymore. It was just... there. Familiar, almost.

He flopped onto his bed, the blue comforter cool against his arms. The sugary pop melody from yesterday pulsed softly in his mind, an insistent, calming rhythm. Absently, he picked up his phone, thumb hovering over the music app. The pink heart icon stared back. He hesitated, then tapped it. Instead of scrolling, he simply hit play on the last song. "Sparkle Dreams" filled the small room, its bright synth chords washing over him. He leaned back against the pillow, closing his eyes. The lyrics about hopeful wishes and feeling light felt strangely resonant today. His foot started tapping against the mattress edge, perfectly in time.

A faint scent drifted past his nose – strawberries and vanilla, stronger than before. He frowned, eyes still closed. Was it clinging to his hoodie? He lifted his arm, sniffing the fabric sleeve. Nothing. Just the faint, clean smell of laundry detergent. Yet the sweetness persisted, warm and inviting. He inhaled deeper, chasing it. It felt comforting, familiar in a way he couldn't place. His shoulders relaxed further into the pillow, the music wrapping around him like a soft blanket. The frantic energy of resisting the changes seemed pointless here, in this quiet bubble.

The melody shifted into a soaring bridge, the singer's voice hopeful and bright. Without thinking, Jason's lips parted again. A soft, clear note escaped him, matching the pitch perfectly. He startled, eyes snapping open, the music suddenly jarring. He jabbed the pause button, silence crashing down. Embarrassment prickled his neck. He stared at the ceiling, heart thumping against his ribs. Why did singing along feel so... natural? So good? He shoved the phone aside, the pink icon seeming to mock him.

LET’S BE FRIENDS!!!!
LET’S BE FRIENDS!!!!
LET’S BE FRIENDS!!!!

Dinner was a blur of clattering plates and Lily’s chatter about soccer tryouts. Jason pushed peas around his plate, unusually quiet. His mom asked if he felt okay; he mumbled something about homework fatigue. He avoided Lily’s sharp gaze, the lingering phantom scent of strawberries making him feel strangely exposed. He cleared his plate quickly, retreating upstairs before dessert. The chair remained jammed under his closet knob. He stared at it, a cold knot forming in his stomach. He didn’t touch it.

This is crazy, he thought, trying to push it out of his mind.

He didn't play games. He did his homework then absently found himself scrolling around the internet. He kept trying to do the usual stuff---gaming news, music, even some porno. His mind kept drifting though. He absently kept humming that dumb song.

He found himself clicking through fashion blogs instead, lingering on photos of flowy summer dresses and intricate braided hairstyles. The clean lines and soft fabrics fascinated him in a way sports jerseys never had. He caught himself analyzing how the models' eyeliner winged perfectly at the corners, mentally noting the shade of pink lip gloss that looked surprisingly good on that one girl with dark hair. When a pop-up ad for a limited-edition Glitterati accessory set flashed—a tiny pink backpack and miniature sunglasses—he stared at it for a full thirty seconds before shaking his head and closing the tab, cheeks burning.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Jason slammed his laptop shut, the abrupt sound echoing in the quiet room. He rubbed his eyes, gritty from screen time and confusion. The lingering image of that pink backpack accessory set felt branded onto his eyelids, absurd and unsettling. He needed sleep. Desperately. He shoved the laptop aside, kicked off his jeans, and crawled under the comforter, pulling it up to his chin. The faint scent of Berry Bliss still clung to the sheets, subtle but undeniable. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his racing thoughts to quiet. The sugary pop melody, mercifully silent now, still echoed faintly in the hollows of his mind. Exhaustion pulled him under faster than he expected.

His dreams were a fractured, feverish collage. He was running down a never-ending school hallway lined not with lockers, but with towering stacks of Molly doll boxes, their pink packaging pulsing like neon signs. The air smelled overpoweringly of strawberries and vanilla, thick enough to choke him. He tried to shout for help, but his voice came out high and melodic, singing the chorus of "Sparkle Dreams." Figures blurred past – Ben and Leo pointing and laughing, Amy looking concerned before turning away, Lily grinning triumphantly. He reached his locker, but instead of books, it overflowed with pink socks, glittery hair clips, and bottles of Silky Smooth Hydration shampoo. The doll itself floated above it all, its plastic smile wide and unnervingly knowing. "Let's be friends," it whispered, its voice echoing inside his skull, impossibly loud.

He woke with a gasp, tangled in sheets damp with sweat. Morning light streamed through the blinds, harsh and revealing. For a terrifying second, the cloying scent of strawberries seemed trapped in his nostrils. He frantically sniffed the air. Nothing. Just the stale dust and faint laundry detergent smell of his room. Relief washed over him, cool and immediate. The frantic panic of the dream dissolved like smoke. He stretched, and it felt *good*. Deeply, satisfyingly good. His limbs moved fluidly, no trace of yesterday’s aches or leaden heaviness. His head was clear, utterly clear, the persistent fog and low-grade headache vanished. He felt… refreshed. Lighter. As if he’d slept for days. The bizarre pull towards girly things, the humming, the phantom scents – it all felt distant, absurd, belonging to the fractured logic of the nightmare. He swung his legs out of bed, the worn carpet soft under his feet. The chair was still jammed firmly under the closet knob. He ignored it.

The feeling persisted through breakfast and the bike ride to school. The crisp autumn air felt invigorating, not muffled. He navigated the crowded halls with unusual ease, the usual jostling feeling less abrasive. His mind felt sharp, focused. In English class, analyzing a dense poem actually held his attention; the metaphors clicked with surprising clarity. He even raised his hand once, offering a concise interpretation. The teacher nodded approvingly. As he gathered his books after the bell, shuffling towards the door amidst the chatter, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"Hey, Jason?" He turned. Amy stood there, a hesitant smile playing on her lips. She tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear. "You look… really refreshed today. Like, super awake." Her eyes met his, warm and genuine. "Did you finally get some decent sleep?"

Jason blinked, momentarily stunned. Amy was talking to him. Again. And complimenting him. A genuine warmth spread through his chest, chasing away the last lingering unease from the nightmare. "Uh, yeah," he managed, his voice thankfully steady, lacking yesterday's rasp or unsettling softness. "Slept like a rock." He offered a small, awkward smile back, the simple interaction feeling strangely effortless.

Amy opened her locker door and paused. "You smell really good too? Is that Berry Bliss?"

Jason froze mid-step, backpack strap digging into his shoulder. The phantom scent of strawberries seemed to rush back, flooding his senses. His cheeks burned. "No! Yes, I used it by accident..." he mumbled, ducking his head and pushing past a group of freshmen. The hallway suddenly felt too bright, too loud. He could still feel Amy's curious gaze on his back as he hurried toward math class.

The rest of day no one else thankfully noticed his sweet smell.

Ben and Leo had other things they wanted to discuss with him.

"Where have you been lately, dude?" Ben asked as they approached the bike rack together.

"It's like you've been avoiding us," added Leo.

"You flaked on the game last night too" Ben didn't seem angry, just annoyed.

Jason sighed. "I've been feeling kind of off the last couple of days. I think I caught a cold"

Ben snorted. "Yeah, it sounded like it the other day. You sounded like a dying cat."

Leo chuckled. "Seriously, man. You okay?"

"Yeah," Jason lied, forcing a grin. "Just tired. Maybe I'll jump on tonight." The promise felt hollow, scraping against his throat. He swung his leg over his bike seat, the familiar metal suddenly feeling awkwardly wide again. Ben and Leo peeled off towards Leo's house, arguing loudly about pizza toppings. Jason pedaled down his own street alone, the silence settling heavily. The sugary melody tried to bubble up in his mind again, but he pushed it down, focusing on the rhythmic *click-click* of his chain.

Home was quiet, empty. He dumped his backpack by the door, the thud echoing in the stillness. The faint, persistent sweetness in the air – strawberries, vanilla – seemed stronger now, clinging to the hallway. He ignored it, heading straight for the kitchen. Grabbing an apple, he leaned against the counter, crunching mechanically. Homework later. Maybe a nap? The unnatural calm from the morning felt brittle, fraying at the edges. He stared out the window at the grey afternoon sky.

He trudged upstairs, the familiar creak of the third step oddly comforting. Pushing open his bedroom door, he headed straight for his desk chair, its worn blue fabric beckoning. He dropped heavily into it, sighing as the familiar contours accepted his weight. The relief was instant, melting the tension coiled in his shoulders. He leaned back, stretching his legs out under the desk. Then he froze. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head.

The chair he sat in… was supposed to be wedged firmly under the closet doorknob. His gaze snapped to the closet door.

He turned toward the closet. The door was still firmly shut. He chuckled at the stupidity of it all. For a brief moment he had convinced himself that the doll had kept opening the door. He laughed again. A 12 inch plastic doll, still sealed in its box, somehow opened a closet door? It was the stupidest thing ever. What's worse, it reeked of Lily. She was doing this all somehow. It was the kind of sinister crap she liked to pull. It was getting close to Halloween too.

Had she found the doll? Was this her trying to tell him she'd finally outgrown them?

He decided not to think about it anymore. He'd let her have her fun and face the consequences once their parents got involved at the end.

Jason flipped open his laptop, the familiar glow illuminating his face. He tapped his password, fingers hovering over the keys. Something felt off. He glanced down. His nails looked ragged, uneven – bitten down worse than usual, the edges rough against his fingertips. Annoyed, he scanned his cluttered desk for the clippers he usually kept buried under papers. Instead, his gaze landed on something slender and pink lying conspicuously near his mousepad: an emery board. Smooth, coral-colored, with fine grit. He picked it up absently, the texture familiar yet alien in his hand. Without conscious thought, he drew it across the edge of his thumbnail. The rasp was soft, efficient, smoothing the jagged ridge instantly. It felt strangely satisfying, almost soothing.

LET’S BE FRIENDS!!!!

He moved to the next nail, the rhythmic shhhk-shhhk filling the quiet room. Focus narrowed to the smooth glide, the rough edge vanishing under the gentle abrasion. He worked methodically, rounding each nail tip, lost in the simple, repetitive task. The tension in his shoulders eased further. For a moment, the weirdness faded, replaced by this small, focused calm. He finished his pinky nail, holding his hand up to inspect the neat, slightly rounded edges. They looked… better. Cleaner. Then, the reality crashed over him like ice water. Where did this come from? He stared at the pink emery board, pristine against his worn desk. It hadn't been there yesterday. It had never been there before. Lily wouldn't leave something like this.

Was she really taking this shit that far?

He angrily threw it across the room. She was really pissing him off now. He had half a mind to kick her ass when she got home from school.

Jason stomped over to his bed instead, flopped down on it, and pulled out his phone again. He jabbed the music app icon – the pink heart – with unnecessary force. "Sparkle Dreams" started playing instantly, the sugary synth intro washing over him. He scowled, scrolling through the playlist titles with jerky thumb movements: "Moonbeam Kisses," "Cotton Candy Clouds," "Velvet Heartache." Each name felt like an accusation. He tapped "Velvet Heartache" purely out of spite, bracing for unbearable sweetness. Instead, a slower, richer melody filled his ears, layered with soft piano and a warm, soulful female voice singing about quiet longing and unspoken feelings. The unexpected depth caught him off guard. Against his will, his tense shoulders lowered half an inch.

He kept scrolling while the song played, thumb moving slower now. His feed was a mess – gaming memes interspersed with inexplicable recommendations: a tutorial for fishtail braids, a review of pastel nail polishes, an ad for the exact glittery hair clips from his dream. He paused on a video thumbnail showing intricate eyeliner wings, the caption promising "Easy Cat Eye Magic!" His thumb hovered. It was stupid. Girly. Yet… the precision of the lines fascinated him, the sharp flick at the end seeming almost mathematical. He tapped it before he could stop himself, the music seamlessly shifting to another soft pop ballad as the tutorial loaded.

The video was mesmerizing. The presenter’s hands moved with confident grace, the liquid liner flowing in a smooth, dark arc. Jason found himself leaning closer to the screen, unconsciously mimicking the slight tilt of her head. He paused the video halfway through, staring at his own reflection in the dark phone screen. His eyes looked tired, ordinary. What would it feel like, that sharp line defining his lash line? The thought was absurd, electrifying. He shoved the phone away, face burning. The lingering melody of "Velvet Heartache" felt suddenly too intimate, amplifying the weird pull he’d just felt. He needed air. Now.

LET’S BE FRIENDS!!!!

He shoved himself off the bed and stalked downstairs. The garage door groaned open, releasing the familiar smells of damp concrete and old motor oil. Dust motes danced in the weak afternoon light filtering through the grimy window. His basketball lay forgotten in the corner, half-buried under a tarp. He grabbed it, the worn leather rough and reassuringly solid against his palms. The weight felt good, anchoring. He dribbled it hard onto the cracked concrete floor, the sharp thwack-thwack-thwack echoing loudly, chasing away the phantom music and girly thoughts. He pushed open the side door into the backyard.

The hoop above the garage door sagged slightly, the net frayed and bleached by years of sun. Jason squared up, a few feet from the free-throw line they'd painted years ago – faded now, almost invisible. He bent his knees, focused on the rim, and launched the ball. It arced high, clipped the backboard awkwardly, and clanged off the rim, bouncing away. Weak. He chased it down, frustration bubbling. He used to sink these effortlessly. He dribbled again, harder, trying to recapture the rhythm, the muscle memory. As he set up for another shot, his gaze snagged on the worn patch of grass beside the driveway where his dad used to stand, arms crossed, offering gruff pointers. "Follow through, Jason. Like you mean it." The memory hit him like a physical pang. His dad hadn't stood there in... years. Always at the office, or traveling, or just... absent. The connection felt severed, leaving a hollow ache where shared laughter and competition used to be.

He hurled the basketball toward the hoop with raw force. It slammed against the backboard with a loud crack, ricocheted wildly, and landed with a dull thud in the middle of the lawn, rolling to a stop against a decorative rock. The pointless violence of it echoed in the quiet yard. He stared at the ball lying there, useless. He didn't want to chase it. He didn't want to shoot anymore. He just wanted... out. Turning sharply, he stalked past the garage door, letting it slam shut behind him, leaving the ball abandoned on the manicured grass.

He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans – they felt strangely snug across the hips again – and started walking. Fast. Down the driveway, past the perfectly symmetrical boxwood hedges lining their front path, and onto the smooth, newly poured sidewalk. The neighborhood unfolded around him: rows of identical modern houses painted in tasteful greys and creams, each with a neat square of emerald lawn, a two-car garage, and maybe a tasteful potted evergreen by the front door. It was quiet, sterile, the only sounds were the distant hum of a lawnmower and the chirp of unseen birds. Everything looked pristine, planned, utterly predictable. It felt suffocating.

He walked without direction, past houses that mirrored his own, past minivans parked in driveways, past kids’ bikes left carelessly on front walks. The sameness pressed in, amplifying the chaos inside him – the phantom pop melody trying to surface, the lingering sweetness on his skin, the image of that pink emery board discarded on his floor. He kicked a loose pebble hard, sending it skittering across the asphalt. It bounced off the curb near a house with bright yellow shutters, jarringly cheerful against the muted palette. He kept walking, the rhythmic slap of his sneakers against the pavement a grounding counterpoint to the whirl in his head.

The air grew cooler as dusk approached, the sharp scent of damp earth and cut grass replacing the cloying phantom sweetness. He walked until his legs ached pleasantly, until the frantic energy buzzing under his skin settled into a dull, manageable thrum. Turning back felt like defeat, but the streetlights were flickering on, casting long, distorted shadows. He retraced his steps, the familiar houses now seeming less like prisons and more like indifferent landmarks. The walk hadn't solved anything, but it had burned off the jagged edge of panic, leaving a hollow sort of calm.

Pushing open the front door, the house smelled of microwaved pizza and faint floral cleaner. The living room TV blared with saccharine music and overly cheerful voices. Lily was sprawled on the couch, bathed in the flickering blue light of some insipid teen drama. She barely glanced up, her eyes glued to the screen where impossibly perfect actors navigated trivial misunderstandings. "Where'd you vanish?" she mumbled around a mouthful of popcorn, her attention already snapping back to the drama unfolding.

"Out," he said coldly before going up the stairs.

The next few days passed with a deceptive normalcy. Jason attended classes, exchanged brief nods with Ben and Leo, and mechanically completed assignments. Yet beneath the surface, a quiet current pulled him. During study breaks, his fingers navigated not to gaming forums, but to sites dissecting the latest Glitterati collection drops or debating the merits of matte versus glossy lip tints. He’d catch himself mid-scroll, cheeks flushing, but the fascination lingered—the precision of a winged eyeliner tutorial, the artistry in a perfectly executed braid. It felt less like intrusion and more like… discovery.

At home, the silence was filled with melodies he no longer fought. "Velvet Heartache" played softly through his earbuds as he tackled algebra problems, its melancholic strings somehow sharpening his focus. He’d hum along unconsciously, the notes smooth and effortless in his throat, a stark contrast to the rasp that had plagued him days before. The phantom scents—strawberries, vanilla—faded, replaced by the deliberate, comforting spritz of Berry Bliss after every shower, its floral sweetness now a familiar anchor rather than a source of panic.

Friday afternoon found him biking home with uncharacteristic lightness. The crisp air carried the scent of fallen leaves, not muffled distortion. Ben’s crude jokes about cafeteria food barely registered; Jason simply nodded, his mind drifting to the intricate color palette of a sunset-inspired eyeshadow palette he’d bookmarked. Later, as he passed Lily’s open bedroom door, he glimpsed her arranging her own Molly dolls on a shelf. A flicker of… something… stirred—not envy, but a detached appreciation for their meticulously designed outfits. He shook it off. Just a weird week.

In his own bedroom, he stared at the closed closet door. There was a twitch of a longing but he forced it down.

LET’S BE FRIENDS!!!

That night, Jason dreamed. Not of running or singing or dolls. He dreamed of stillness. He sat before a brightly lit vanity mirror, its surface cool beneath his fingertips. In his hands – her hands, slender and smooth – was a slim tube of liquid eyeliner. The movement was instinctive: a steady pull along the upper lash line, the flick at the end sharp and perfect. A soft sigh escaped lips glossed a subtle pink. Next came the blush brush, swirling gently on the apples of cheeks that felt soft, unfamiliar. Then, the hair. Long, dark waves cascaded over her shoulders as she lifted a silver brush, pulling it through the strands with a rhythm that was soothing, hypnotic. Each stroke felt like shedding a layer of tension he hadn't known he carried. There was no fear, no dissonance. Just the quiet, focused ritual of preparation, the simple act of tending to oneself reflected in the mirror’s calm gaze. It felt profoundly peaceful.

A distant voice called her "Jessica"

Jason woke tangled in sheets, the dream dissolving like mist. Saturday sunlight streamed through the blinds, painting stripes across his floor. He stretched, planning nothing beyond burrowing back under the covers. Yet his feet carried him to the bathroom on autopilot. The shower’s hot spray eased the lingering stiffness in his hips, Berry Bliss foam blooming pink and fragrant across his skin. He toweled off, the soft terrycloth soothing against strangely smooth shoulders.

Brushing his teeth, he caught his reflection in the fogged mirror. Hair damp, face relaxed. Normal. Then his gaze dropped to his hands gripping the sink edge. His nails weren’t bitten nubs anymore. They were longer. Noticeably longer. Oval-shaped crescents of pale pink extending just past his fingertips, clean but uneven, the edges catching the light. He flexed his fingers. When had they grown? He hadn’t consciously stopped biting them. They just… stopped needing it.

LET’S BE FRIENDS
LET’S BE FRIENDS

He started to wrap the towel around his waist as usual but stopped himself. Looking in the steam covered mirror, something told it was wrong. Instead, he instinctively wrapped it around his body like a girl, wrapping it under his armpits like a girl. He gave himself a satisfied smile before heading back to his room.

Thankfully no one saw him in the hallway.

Jason pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, the fabric settling comfortably over his noticeably narrower shoulders. He slumped into his desk chair, the worn blue upholstery familiar. His gaze drifted across the clutter – textbooks, crumpled papers, a discarded energy drink can. Then it landed on the pink emery board, lying near his mousepad where it had been days ago. I threw that away, right? Without conscious thought, his hand reached out, fingers closing around the smooth coral plastic. It felt strangely natural, almost expected. He picked it up.

The rhythmic shhhk-shhhk filled the quiet room again. He worked methodically, smoothing the ragged edges of each nail, rounding the tips into neat ovals. The rasp was soft, hypnotic. Tension bled from his knuckles as he focused on the simple, precise task. When he finished, he held his hands up. The nails looked clean, intentional. Better. His eyes scanned the desk surface, almost instinctively. There, tucked beside his monitor stand, half-hidden behind a stack of notebooks, was a small bottle. Clear nail polish. Simple, unadorned glass. *Where did that come from?* The question flickered, distant, unimportant. He picked it up, unscrewed the tiny cap, the faint chemical scent sharp and clean.

He dipped the brush. Clear liquid glistened on the bristles. Without hesitation, he brought it to his thumbnail. The first stroke was smooth, practiced. The cool polish flowed easily, coating the pale pink surface with a glossy sheen. He moved to the next finger, then the next, the brush moving with a steady, automatic rhythm. Each stroke felt like sealing something, completing the task he’d started. The glossy finish caught the morning light, transforming his hands into something unfamiliar yet undeniably… cared for. A strange warmth bloomed in his chest, a quiet satisfaction that drowned out the whisper of alarm.

He blew a few times on his newly polished nails, satisfied.

LET’S BE FRIENDS

Jason spent the morning immersed in music, letting soft pop ballads fill his room while he scrolled through fashion blogs. The intricate details of layered necklaces and textured fabrics held his attention far longer than any gaming strategy ever had. He studied color palettes – dusty rose paired with sage green, cobalt blue against cream – finding a strange comfort in their harmonious combinations. All oblivious activities but things he was seemingly interested in now. Time slipped away unnoticed until the faint grumble in his stomach pulled him back.

He padded downstairs, thoughts of microwaved leftovers dancing in his head. Lily was already perched at the kitchen table, methodically crunching through a bag of sour cream and onion chips. Her gaze flicked up as he entered, sharp and assessing. It lingered for a beat too long on his face, then dipped pointedly to his hands resting casually on the countertop as he reached for a glass. Her eyes narrowed slightly, a silent question forming, but she pressed her lips together and looked back down at her phone, shoving another chip into her mouth with deliberate nonchalance. The silence felt thick, charged with unspoken observation.

"That's your lunch?" he asked, his head in the fridge.

"What of it?" she fired back, waiting for him to challenge her further.

He took some pasta salad out of the fridge. Holding the Tupperware in his hands, he shrugged. "I'm not Mom, what do I care".

He fixed himself a serving before sitting down at the table across from her.

Lily's gaze went back to his fingernails. They were definitely polished. They also looked..."girlier". She knew it wasn't actually a word but there was no better way to describe them. Her brother had girly nails. It wasn't the only thing girly about him she'd been noticing either: he was definitely using her shampoo and body wash. His hair had looked healthier and his skin had a well cared glow to it. It wasn't just a glow though. There was something about him, something softer and less angular.

"You ok?" she asked, out of actual concern for his well being once.

He scoffed. "I'm fine," he said, snapping sharply. A moment later, he sighed. "Sorry. It's just..." He trailed off, not sure how to describe it.

Thankfully for him, she didn't push the matter.

He continued to eat his pasta salad. He was halfway through it when he realized this was not what he was intending to eat. Last night they had had porkchops too. There were still a few left wrapped in foil. He'd been craving them but when he went to them, he took the salad instead. Even now as he stared at his plate, he couldn't help but think it was better for him... better for his waistline.

He wasn't sure why he cared about that suddenly though.

Jason returned to his room but couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The air felt thick, charged with unseen tension. His gaze swept across familiar clutter—textbooks, crumpled papers, the abandoned energy drink can—but everything seemed subtly rearranged, tilted just a fraction out of true. The pink emery board lay exactly where he'd left it beside his mousepad, yet its presence pulsed like a beacon. He tried focusing on his laptop screen, pulling up a physics problem set, but the equations blurred into meaningless symbols. A low hum vibrated in his ears, not from his headphones, but deeper, resonating inside his skull. He rubbed his temples, trying to dislodge it. The scent of Berry Bliss clung faintly to his skin, mingling with the sharp chemical tang of the clear polish on his nails.

He stared at the nail polish bottle. It was where he'd left it. Where did he always leave it?

He paused in his thoughts. It was supposed to be there, right?

Of course.

The thought drifted through Jason’s mind as his eyes landed on the delicate silver bracelet draped casually over the corner of his desk lamp. Its tiny, dangling star charm caught the afternoon light. He hadn’t put it there. Had he? It felt… familiar, like something he’d owned forever, resting exactly where it belonged. He picked it up, the cool metal smooth against his polished nails, and slipped it onto his wrist without a second thought. The weight felt right, anchoring.

LET’S BE FRIENDS!!!!

He turned back to his physics homework, but the equations swam before his eyes. Instead, his gaze drifted toward the sleek black eyeliner pencil lying beside his calculus textbook. It hadn’t been there yesterday. Or had it? A sudden, intense curiosity flared – not panic, but a deep, almost magnetic pull. His fingers brushed the cool barrel. He picked it up, rolling it thoughtfully between his thumb and forefinger. The urge to replicate the precise feline flick from the tutorial he’d watched days ago surged through him, a silent command he couldn’t ignore.

Later, rummaging through his sock drawer for a lost USB drive, his hand closed around something soft and unfamiliar. Nestled beside mismatched athletic socks was a small velvet pouch. He tipped it out onto his palm: a pair of delicate silver studs shaped like tiny crescent moons. They glinted under the overhead light. Without hesitation, he slid one into each earlobe. The cool metal against his skin felt instantly right, a subtle adornment he barely registered as unusual. He didn’t question where they came from; they simply belonged.

But his ears weren't even pierced?

No, wait, of course they were.

Duh.

Jason blinked, his fingers tracing the cool metal studs nestled snugly in his earlobes. Of course they were pierced. He’d gotten them done last summer, hadn’t he? A vague memory surfaced – the sharp pinch, the antiseptic smell, Lily teasing him relentlessly afterward. It felt distant, hazy, like a dream half-remembered, yet utterly plausible. He shrugged off the lingering unease; the studs felt natural, a small, cool point of focus against his skin. They belonged.

His gaze drifted to his nightstand. Beside the charging cable and an old water glass sat a sleek, black-handled hairbrush he didn’t recall owning. Its bristles looked soft, dense, perfect for smoothing through long hair. He picked it up, the weight comfortable in his palm. Without conscious thought, he lifted it to his head. His hair, damp from the shower and slightly longer than he usually kept it, fell softly around his ears. The brush glided through it effortlessly, catching only minimally on the ends. The rhythmic pull, the gentle scratch against his scalp, was deeply soothing. He hummed softly, a snippet of "Velvet Heartache," as he worked through the tangles he hadn’t even noticed were there. The action felt instinctive, grounding him in the quiet afternoon light filtering through the blinds.

He carried the brush over to the small mirror hanging on his wall. It was usually just for quick checks, but now he faced it fully. He lifted the brush again, starting from the crown, pulling it smoothly down the length of his dark hair. As he watched his reflection, something shifted. With each deliberate stroke, his hair seemed… fuller. Thicker. The ends brushed against the collar of his t-shirt, then crept just below it. It wasn't a sudden, jarring change, but a subtle lengthening, as if the strands were responding to the brush’s gentle persuasion, unfurling inch by inch with every pass. His reflection stared back, eyes wide with a dawning realization that mingled strangely with acceptance. The hair cascading over his shoulders felt right, natural, a soft weight he hadn't known he needed.

He no longer questioned it.

His hair was perfect.

He giggled.

Shit, why did he giggle?

He laughed off his concern a moment later. His mind was in a mess. He wasn't sure what was right anymore. This felt right. In the mirror, he was sure he looked right. He glanced past his reflection, toward the closet door.

That wasn't right though.

He turned away from the mirror and walked over to the closet. Opening the door, he stood on his tippy toes and got the Molly box from the top shelf. He held the box in his hands, staring at the fashion doll through her plastic window. Limited edition. Her long dark hair. Her shimmering silver dress. Her smiling face.

Then without consciously thinking about it, he opens the box and takes her out.

"Let's be friends," he says softly, stroking her face.

That night, Jason dreams again. He stands before a vast, softly lit dressing room lined with mirrors reflecting endless versions of himself—each subtly different. One wears glittering eyeshadow, another sports intricate braids, another laughs with Lily's easy confidence. The reflections shift and blur, merging into a single, seamless image: a girl with his dark eyes but softer features, wearing the silver dress from Molly's box. She smiles warmly, extending a hand adorned with polished nails. "Jessica," the name echoes like recognition, not intrusion. The dream holds no fear, only profound belonging—a tapestry of small rituals (applying lip gloss, adjusting a hairpin) woven into peace.

Jason wakes to Sunday sunlight dappling his walls. He stretches languidly, limbs loose and unburdened. Gone is the usual morning grogginess; instead, a fizzy lightness bubbles in his chest, as if he’d slept not just deeply, but correctly. He pads to the bathroom, catching his reflection mid-yawn. His hair—now brushing his shoulders in soft, dark waves—frames a face that looks… rested. Open. The perpetual tension around his jaw has melted away. He touches the crescent moon studs in his ears, their coolness familiar and comforting. Even the lingering scent of Berry Bliss feels less like an intrusion and more like part of him—a sweet, floral signature.

He paused.

When did he put in the crescent studs? Weren't they in his drawer?

He shrugged. He could be a total airhead sometimes.

Jason stepped into the shower, the hot water instantly soothing muscles he hadn't realized were tense. Berry Bliss bloomed around him, the floral sweetness now as natural as breathing. He scrubbed efficiently, the familiar motions grounding. Toweling off, he wrapped the terrycloth securely under his armpits, the snug fit feeling instinctively correct. Back in his room, he bypassed the usual jeans and t-shirt. His fingers drifted instead towards softer fabrics: a pair of charcoal grey leggings and an oversized, incredibly soft burgundy sweatshirt. He pulled them on, the leggings hugging his slight more feminine hips and thighs comfortably, the sweatshirt swallowing him in cozy warmth.

He stared at his clothes. Had he always had them?

After brushing out his hair then pulling it into a ponytail, he left the room.

LET’S BE FRIENDS!!!!
LET’S BE FRIENDS!!!!
LET’S BE FRIENDS!!!!

Jason padded downstairs, the soft fleece of his leggings whispering against his thighs with each step. The kitchen smelled faintly of coffee and disinfectant. Lily sat hunched over her cereal bowl, scrolling through her phone with intense focus. He moved past her to the counter, his movements fluid, almost graceful. The refrigerator door opened with a soft sigh. Inside, nestled beside yogurt cups and orange juice, sat the familiar grapefruit. He retrieved it without hesitation, the cool, dimpled skin smooth under his polished nails. He split it open with a sharp knife, the citrus scent bursting into the air—sharp, clean, invigorating. He scooped out a segment with a small spoon, the tart juice flooding his mouth. It tasted crisp, necessary. Perfect.

Lily was startled. Who in the hell was this girl? Then she blinked.

Holy shit...

"Jay?" she asked, not sure if her voice was going to betray her or not.

Jason looked at his sister. "What's up, sis?" he asked, his voice slightly softer and sing song.

Lily blinked. Was she in the fucking Twilight Zone?

Not only did her brother look and sound like a girl but he was glowing pink. It was only slight, but it was there. She blinked and rubbed her eyes and suddenly the glow was gone.

Just then, their mother breezed into the kitchen, crisp on her day off. She paused, her gaze sweeping over Jason as he delicately spooned another segment of grapefruit. A warm smile spread across her face. "Oh, honey," she said, her voice brimming with genuine approval. "That color looks absolutely lovely on you. Burgundy really brings out the warmth in your complexion."

Jason froze, the spoon halfway to his mouth. A blush crept up his neck, hot and undeniable. He hadn't expected… this. The compliment landed softly, settling into the strange new calm he’d woken with. It felt… right. Natural. Like sunlight hitting skin after days of rain. He managed a small, hesitant smile back, the tart juice suddenly tasting sweeter. "Thanks, Mom," he murmured, the words slipping out smoother, lighter than before.

Lily looked from her mother to Jason and back again. Had this entire family gone nuts?

"You're glowing" she deadpanned at her brother.

"Thanks, sis!" he beamed.

But he was really glowing.

The pink was bright. She looked at her mother but it was clear her Mom couldn't see it. So why was she the only one that could?

"I'm going to my room" she mumbled, got up from the table and left.

Jason watched his sister leave, confused. Lily was being particularly bitchy today. Maybe it was her time of the month. He shrugged. Then made a mental note about needing more tampons. He paused. What the fuck?

He finished his grapefruit and went back to his room. As soon as he walked inside, he paused at the door. Something felt off but he couldn't figure out what.

It was definitely the same room as usual. The same soft fairy lights draped across the ceiling, casting a warm glow over walls painted a calming shade of lavender. The same popstar posters and bookshelves lining the walls. The same sleek white vanity scattered with neatly arranged cosmetics: lip gloss tubes in soft pinks and corals, a small tray holding delicate rings, and a velvet-lined jewelry box overflowing with necklaces. The same bed, with the fluffy pink duvet, piled high with decorative pillows featuring embroidered flowers and motivational phrases like "Dream Big" in swirling script. The same plush rug in swirling pastels covered most of the hardwood floor, and the same distinct scent of vanilla and fresh linen hung softly in the air.

Why did he feel something felt off?

LET’S BE FRIENDS!

The thought evaporated instantly. Everything was exactly as it should be. Jessica hummed softly, padding across the plush rug toward her vanity. She sank onto the cushioned stool, her reflection greeting her with familiar warmth. Dark, shoulder-length waves framed a face that felt effortlessly hers—softer angles, luminous skin, eyes bright with quiet contentment. She picked up the sleek eyeliner pencil, its cool weight comfortable in her hand. With practiced, fluid strokes, she traced a perfect feline flick along each lid, the black line sharp and precise against her lashes. The action felt like breathing: essential, grounding, hers.

When her makeup was done, she smiled. She wasn't going to put any on this morning but after her Mom and sister complimented, she felt invigorated.

Not doing her makeup felt silly.

Jessica leaned closer to the mirror, admiring the subtle shimmer on her eyelids. She dabbed a little blush on her cheeks and smoothed her ponytail. Her fingers brushed against a small velvet pouch on the vanity. Inside nestled a silver necklace with a tiny crescent moon pendant—delicate, perfect. She fastened it around her neck, the cool metal resting lightly against her collarbone. It felt like it had always belonged there.

Come Monday, Jessica dressed for school with practiced ease. She pulled on soft black leggings and a loose-fitting graphic tee featuring a band she vaguely remembered liking. Over it went a cozy oversized cardigan in dusty rose pink—the color felt comforting, right. She slipped into comfortable ankle boots, grabbed her backpack decorated with enamel pins of stars and cats, and headed downstairs. The morning light filtering through the kitchen window caught the silver moon pendant as she poured cereal. Lily watched silently from the table, her expression unreadable. Jessica ignored the tension, humming softly.

Lily's eyes widened.

Who the fuck was that?

Yesterday was one thing with her brother acting just a tad bit girly but this. This was unbelievable. A moment later, her mother walked into the kitchen, dressed for a day at the office. She looked at Lily then at this stranger girl sitting in Jason's seat.

"Jess, that top looks perfect on you, sweetie!"

Who was Jess? Why was she her sister?

"Thanks Mom," the strange girl responded. "I got it on sale last weekend with Brit and Gwen"

Who the fuck were Brit and Gwen?

Lily was flabbergasted. Had the whole world gone mad suddenly.

She tried not to look suspiciously at her "sister" as she ate her cereal. This weird flat chested girl who looked sorta like her brother, was a complete alien to her. But her mother treated her like the daughter she never had. What's more it was as if they both thought this was normal.

What's more, she noticed Jason/Jess was still glowing but not as brightly.

A few minutes later, a car horn beeped.

"That's Brit, Mom" said this weird brother-sister.

"Since when do you get a ride to school?" asked Lily, hoping to find some normalcy in any of this.

Her mother and the girl gave her a strange look.

"Like everyday" said the girl, slinging her bag on her shoulder and leaving the house, her heeled ankle boots clicking as she went.

The car ride was filled with chatter about weekend plans and pop star gossip. Jessica settled into the passenger seat, nodding along as Brit described a new eyeliner technique. The world outside blurred—familiar streets lined with maple trees, the same brick facade of Westfield High looming ahead. Yet everything felt softer, quieter, like someone had turned down the volume on chaos. As they pulled into the crowded lot, Jessica spotted Amy waving energetically near the main entrance.

"We going to Mario's this weekend?" asked Gwen, touching up her lip gloss in the vanity mirror.

Jessica sighed. "I've got a date with Craig this weekend"

Craig? Who was Craig? It nagged at her, tearing at her school. She was confused and scared but only for a moment. Craig, he's my boyfriend, silly.

I'm such an airhead sometimes.

Jessica laughed softly as she stepped out of Brit's car, the crisp autumn air instantly catching strands of her dark hair. Gwen linked arms with her effortlessly, their synchronized steps clicking across the asphalt toward the looming building. A ripple moved through the crowded entrance—heads turned, whispers followed, eyes tracking their path with open admiration.

Inside the bustling hallway, Jessica felt the familiar hum of attention settle over her like a second skin. A freshman clutching textbooks stumbled backward to clear space, cheeks flushing as Jessica offered a warm smile. "Morning, Chloe," Jessica murmured, the name surfacing instantly. Chloe stammered a reply, starstruck.

At her locker, Jessica spun the combination with practiced ease. Gwen leaned against the neighboring locker, flipping her blonde hair. "Did you see Kendra’s new highlights? Tragic," Gwen sighed, examining her own perfect manicure. Jessica nodded sympathetically, pulling out her physics binder. Her reflection in the locker mirror door caught her eye—polished, poised, effortlessly belonging. The silver moon pendant glinted softly against her cardigan.

"Whelp class time, toodles my girlies" said Brit and she finger waved off down the hall.

Gwen scrunched her nose. "I have to freshen again, you coming, Jess?"

"No, I need to talk to Amy about our history project" she admitted, defeated.

"Savage" pouted Gwen and she clicked her heels away.

When Amy finally arrives at her locker, Jessica is over the moon to see her. They used to be real close. Amy was Lily's babysitter once upon a time but they drifted apart. Amy had gotten weird for a bit, starting spending time in the library and helping out her weird neighbor. Jessica just couldn't vibe but they reconnected last summer. They weren't BFFs anymore but they were civil.

"Hey Ames" she said, beaming. "So about our project?"

*****

"Hey" said the blonde cautiously, giving Jessica a strange look.

Amy paused. She was supposed to know this...wait. The jewel on her necklace burned. A warning.

Shit.

Jason.

While the girl in front of him was indeed very feminine and quite pretty, she was still clearly a lot more boy than girl. What's more, she had a faint pink glow. There was a charged tingle in the air and a crisp smell of berries. Amy had chalked it up to a new shampoo or body wash the last couple of days but she was such an idiot. *How had she not seen this?* Miss Moore was going to be so mad at her.

Magic.

Someone had used witchcraft on Jason Cooper.

SHIT.

This was exactly the kind of thing Miss Moore had warned her about and told her to look out for. Ever since last year. Ever since she started mentoring under her. Miss Moore had said that "Magic was everywhere. Some were good, some were bad - but all left a trace." Traces. They had been staring her in the stupid face the whole time.

She took a deep breath. She felt the magic on the edge of her consciousness. The spell was strong. Most of the people in the school were already affected by it. She closed her eyes, reaching out with her magic sense. Memory manipulation. Reality alteration, physical body alteration. A really nasty spell. One WAY above her skill to deal with.

She thought inwardly. Miss Moore was away for the month for a conference too.

*Calm, down, Amy*

"Hey..." she said again, searching the altered air around her. She found a name quickly. "Jess." She laughed. "Sorry, rough weekend"

"Lucky" Jess pouted. "I was stuck home with my Mom and my boring sister"

Lily. Right.

Lily was part of the new life Miss Moore had crafted for Amy last year. Something were still a little fuzzy. After that Halloween night and becoming Amy, everything was weird. She remembered Lily though. She was one of the girls that she used to babysit. Lily was a good kid, fun and smart. Inquisitive too. A lot like she used to be.

Becoming a girl had been shocking for Amy but welcoming too. It was what she had always wanted. She was not counting on being a witch though. That had been eye-opening but not as eye-opening as the fact that her family had been witches for generations. Her mother was a witch. Her grandmother was a witch. Hell, she even had witch cousins.

Cousins.

"Hey, Ames, I was wondering if you had some free time after school today..." Jess started but Amy stopped her.

"Sorry, real quick, Jess" She pulled out her phone. "I forgot to text my cousin about something"

Jess gave her an understanding look.

Amy wandered away and started text her cousin, Jenna:

Jen. I'm freaking out. SOS. Wild, possibly rampant shit going down here.

Wild and rampant. Two words that no witch alive wanted to hear. Wild magic. It was something that most witches didn't want to hear or deal with. She was still learning but it was one of the first lessons that Miss Moore had taught her. Someone was using unauthorized witchcraft on a global scale. It was messy, it was mind-breaking and it was dangerous because it often couldn't be fully repaired or corrected. What's worse, it could be Rampant too. If it was Rampant, she'd need a whole hell of a lot of help.

Amy's phone binged with a message from Jenna: Are you sure?

Amy typed frantically. Boy yesterday. Very close to a girl today. The necklace burned. Air charged.

Jenna's reply came quick: M still out of town?

M was what Jenna called "Miss Moore".

Amy typed frantically. Flying blind. Should check the family. Secure the threat?

Jenna typed, Approach but don't engage. Find the threat, don't secure it. Cass and I will be there tomorrow at earliest.

Amy let out a sigh of relief. She could deal with this for the day. She stuffed her phone in her purse and went over to Jess who was still waiting impatiently.

"Sorry" she apologized. "Family thing. You said something about coming over tonight, right?"

"Yeah" Jess said, now sounding like the girl she appeared to be.

"Great. I've been wanting to see Lily again for ages" said Amy, trying to keep a neutral and totally not freaked out expression.

****

Jessica drifted through her morning classes wrapped in a comfortable haze. In English, Mrs. Archer praised her insightful analysis of symbolism in *The Great Gatsby*, and Jessica glowed under the approval, her polished nails tapping lightly on her notebook. At lunch with Brit and Gwen, she found herself effortlessly joining their animated dissection of the weekend’s social drama, her laughter light and musical. She barely registered the lingering glances from other tables or the way her voice softened further, losing the last raspy undertones. When she reached for her water bottle, her movements were fluid, graceful, her wrist adorned with the silver star bracelet seeming impossibly delicate. The world felt brighter, sharper, yet softer around the edges, like a lens finally focused correctly.

By the time the bell rang for sixth-period gym, Jessica felt a strange, fizzy anticipation humming beneath her skin. She changed swiftly in the bustling locker room, pulling on the standard-issue blue shorts and grey t-shirt. Yet, the familiar uniform felt different today—looser in the shoulders, snugger across her hips and chest. She caught her reflection in the long mirror: her dark hair pulled into a high ponytail revealed a slender neck, her face devoid of makeup yet smooth and distinctly feminine. Her legs, once lean and angular, now curved softly, and the slight swell beneath her t-shirt was undeniable. A wave of profound rightness washed over her, silencing any lingering whisper of confusion. She belonged here, in this body, in this moment.

There was no Jason left. It was a name and a life she didn't know or remember.

In gym class, Jessica moved with newfound ease. During volleyball drills, her body responded instinctively—diving for a low serve, her leggings-clad legs flexing powerfully, the slight bounce in her chest feeling natural and unremarkable. Sweat beaded on her smooth forehead, and she pushed a stray dark curl behind her ear, laughing breathlessly with her teammates. Her voice rang clear and bright across the court, completely free of any boyish rasp. When she jumped to block a spike, the subtle curve of her hips and the firm swell beneath her gym shirt were unmistakable beneath the loose fabric. She landed lightly, flushed and exhilarated, feeling utterly at home in her skin.

At the end of the day, she waited for Amy by their lockers.

Amy approached cautiously, her eyes widening as she took in Jessica’s appearance. The girl who’d been awkwardly feminine that morning now radiated effortless grace—her posture relaxed, hips swaying slightly as she shifted her weight. The faint pink glow Amy had noticed earlier seemed woven into her skin, pulsing softly with each breath. Jessica’s voice, when she greeted Amy, was pure honey—smooth and melodic, without a trace of its former roughness. The transformation wasn’t just physical; it was in the way Jessica absentmindedly twirled a strand of her now-longer hair, the easy confidence in her smile. Amy’s witch-sense prickled violently. This wasn’t gradual change—it was an avalanche.

There was no doubt now that something rampant had indeed happened. A change this fast meant she wasn't just looking for a spellcaster but a cursed item. Which meant she really needed to get to Jessica's house and try to search it out. If she was right, the thing would radiate magic like a leaking toxic drum.

"Hey Ames," Jessica waved. "I called an Uber"

Amy forced a smile. "Cool." She scanned Jessica's face—the soft curve of her cheeks, the long lashes, the faint shimmer of highlighter on her cheekbones. The pink glow was a steady pulse now, like a heartbeat made visible. "Love your hair today. Is that a hair clip?"

Jessica beamed, touching the small silver star clip holding back a section of her dark waves. "Thanks! Got it at the mall last week." She chattered about the sale at Sparkle Boutique, her voice light and airy.

Last week, thought Amy, the spell was weaving a tapestry. It would be impressive if not so malicious.

Amy nodded, asking careful questions. "So, what's Lily into these days? Still drawing those amazing comics?" Amy kept her tone casual, probing for cracks in the fabricated reality. Inside, her witch-sense screamed—the charged air around Jessica crackled with unstable magic, smelling overwhelmingly of crushed berries and ozone.

Jessica sighed dramatically, adjusting her silver moon necklace. "Ugh, she's *so* obsessed with that fantasy… What? It's a series now? All she talks about is elves and magic battles." She giggled, a light, musical sound that felt alien to the Jason Amy once knew. "It's cute, I guess, but kinda dorky."

Amy nodded, keeping her expression friendly as the Uber pulled away from the curb. "Magic, huh? That's... interesting." She focused on the mundane to mask her tension. "So, what's new with you? Besides the awesome hair clip." She gestured vaguely at Jessica's star accessory.

She needed to know how far this had gone.

Jessica leaned back against the vinyl seat, her ponytail brushing the headrest. "Oh, you know," she said, her voice a soft, easy cadence. "School, Craig, the usual. Brit dragged me to that new bubble tea place downtown last weekend—matcha with extra pearls. So good." She tapped her phone screen, showing Amy a perfectly filtered selfie of her and Brit grinning over pastel-colored drinks. "We should go sometime. Your treat, since you bailed on Mario’s last month." Her smile was bright, challenging, utterly unaware of the dissonance.

This was intense. And dangerous.

VERY dangerous.

Amy forced a smile. "Sure, my treat".

The Uber pulled up to Jessica's familiar suburban house. As they climbed out, Amy scanned the structure—ordinary beige siding, manicured lawn, but the air hummed with invisible energy that prickled her skin.

Inside, the kitchen felt unnervingly normal. Sunlight streamed across the clean countertops as Jessica dropped her bag on a chair. "Mom's at work till six, and Lily won't be home yet," she announced, pulling out textbooks. Her movements were fluid, almost balletic, as she grabbed two glasses and filled them with pink lemonade. Amy noted how Jessica’s fitted tee---once a band tee--- now clearly outlined the gentle swell of breasts beneath the fabric, the transformation accelerating even in the hour since school ended.

They spread their history notes across the worn oak table. Jessica chatted easily about the suffragette movement, her polished nails tapping the page, her voice pure, unbroken soprano. But Amy’s focus was fractured. Her witch-sense screamed louder here, a high-pitched whine beneath the surface calm. The air tasted thick with ozone and crushed berries, and the faint pink glow emanating from Jessica’s skin pulsed stronger, casting soft, shifting shadows on the cabinets. Every giggle, every toss of Jessica’s dark hair felt like a hammer blow to the remnants of Jason.

Amy reached out with her magic sense, trying to find the cursed object. Her best best would be in "Jessica's" room. But she also knew something dangerous like that would definitely try to defend itself.

She internally sighed.

She needed to get upstairs. "Mind if I use your bathroom?" Amy asked, keeping her voice casual. "Too much lemonade."

Jessica waved a dismissive hand, already engrossed in highlighting a passage about Susan B. Anthony. "Down the hall, first door on the left." She didn't look up, her focus absolute.

Amy nodded. "I remember".

She got up and went down the hall but instead of going to the bathroom like she sai, she turned and slowly crept up the stairs. There were 4 doors up here, three she knew to be bedrooms and the fourth was the family bathroom.

The door to Jason's room was now Jessica's. It was decorated with a large silver star sticker and a poster of a pop star that Amy didn't recognize. The air around it felt thick and charged. She could feel the magic leaking out from under the door like a toxic fog. It was almost overwhelming. She felt her necklace burn again. A warning.

She grabbed her necklace gem and slowly started to approach it. When she reached for the knob, she felt an overwhelming pressure pushing her back. She tried to push against it but she wasn't strong enough. Whatever magic that was imbued in the cursed object was much stronger than anything she'd ever encountered.

Shit.

Defeated, she turned around and found herself face to face with Lily.

Amy jumped, startled. "Lily, oh my God. You gave me a heart attack!"

Lily stood frozen at the top of the stairs, her backpack dangling from one hand, her eyes wide with shock. "Amy?" she breathed, her voice trembling. "What... what are you doing here?" She glanced nervously at Jessica's door, then back at Amy, her expression a mix of confusion and dawning suspicion.

"Ja..ess and I have a history project we're working on" Amy stumbled, almost screwing up and called the girl downstairs "Jason".

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Were you about to say Jason?"

Amy laughed. "Who's Jason?"

The raw pain in Lily’s eyes hit Amy like a physical blow. This wasn’t just confusion; it was mourning. Lily remembered Jason. She remembered her brother, trapped beneath layers of magic, erased from the world except in her own, isolated memory. The realization struck Amy cold—Lily was completely alone, carrying the truth no one else could see or acknowledge.

More than that, Lily was immune. Whatever magic had rolled off her like water on the back of a seal.

"You're immune to the spell" she gasped, incredulous.

Lily's eyes widened. "Spell? What spell?"

Shit.

"Spell," Amy laughed. "Who said spell? I said shell"

Lily narrowed her eyes, dropping her backpack. "Bullshit"

Amy winced. It was always off putting when a kid Lily's age swore, even if Lily was....wow, Lily was probably twelve now. Time flies. Never mind.

Amy sighed. "When did it start?" She was going to ignore the fact that she screwed up and revealed magic to a Mundane.

"When did what start?" asked Lily, playing the game too.

Amy sighed. "Lily, we don't have time to go around in circles. Eventually your new "sister" is going to notice I'm missing" She said the word "sister" by making air quotes with her fingers.

Lily narrowed her eyes. "I'm not answering any questions until you answer mine"

Amy groaned and rolled her eyes, exasperated. "I'm a witch. Magic is real. Your brother is cursed and somehow you're immune to the reality warp that followed it. Does that cover it?"

Lily was stunned but recovered quickly. "Is the reality warp thing the reason no one remembers Jason?"

Amy nodded. "I know why I'm immune," she said, looking at Lily, wondering. "I'm not sure about..."

Whatever she was about to say was interrupted by Jessica.

"What are you guys doing?" she asked, glancing between.

Amy had always been quick on her feet. "I ran into Lily on my way back from the bathroom. She wanted me to go to her room to see her new sketches."

Jessica looked at her sister who shrugged. "Stop being such a dork".

Jessica then turned and headed down the stairs. Lily watched her go before turning back to Amy.

"Can you fix it?" she asked, clearly not liking the person her brother was becoming.

"Not sure but I'll try" She looked back at the bedroom door. "But first I need to know what it is that's done this."

"My fake memories say "Jessica" has volleyball practice after school tomorrow. She usually goes out after that. We can look then." Lily stared her down. "My memories...they..." She started to tear up. "She's not a good person..."

Amy hugged her. The small body trembled against her. A spell like this was rough. Whoever crafted it was a cruel person, weaving layers of fake history and personality shifts that erased Jason entirely. She could only imagine how painful it must be for Lily to have memories of both lives—the brother she knew, fading under the relentless tide of "Jessica's" fabricated existence. Amy had one set of current memories. They were a blended combination of her old life as "Max" and her new one now. They weren't invasive or painful. The "new" reality memories this spell created, she could pull from the ether if needed, but they felt distant, like borrowed clothes. Lily’s pain was raw and immediate, a constant dissonance.

"We'll figure this out" she whispered into the top of the girl's head before gently kissing it.

****

Jessica and Amy settled back at the kitchen table, textbooks spread between them. Jessica effortlessly guided the conversation toward their suffragette research, her voice smooth and melodic as she cited dates and names. Amy nodded along, forcing herself to focus on the notes while her witch-sense screamed warnings. Every gesture Jessica made—tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear, tapping her polished pink nails on the table—felt like another stitch tightening the spell’s fabric. The air hummed faintly, thick with the scent of Berry Bliss and ozone. Amy kept her responses light, complimenting Jessica’s insights while subtly steering questions toward harmless topics like weekend plans, desperate to avoid triggering any deeper scrutiny.

As the afternoon light faded, Amy packed her bag, citing an early family dinner. Jessica walked her to the door, moving with fluid grace, her burgundy sweatshirt hugging newly softened curves. "Thanks for coming over, Ames!" she chirped, her smile bright and unguarded. Amy forced a cheerful wave, relief warring with dread as she stepped onto the porch. The moment the door clicked shut, the oppressive magical charge lessened slightly, but the image of Jessica’s glowing, contented face lingered—a stark reminder of what was at stake.

Alone in the quiet house, Jessica hummed a pop tune under her breath. She drifted upstairs, pausing outside Lily’s closed door. A flicker of irritation crossed her features—why was her sister being so distant lately? Shaking her head, she continued to her own room. The silver star on her door seemed to shimmer as she entered, the air inside warm and subtly charged. Her gaze swept over the lavender walls, fairy lights, and vanity cluttered with cosmetics. Everything felt perfectly, comfortably hers.

She sank onto the pink duvet, pulling out her phone to scroll through fashion blogs. Yet, as images of lace tops and platform boots filled the screen, a faint, discordant note pricked her contentment. She frowned, touching the crescent moon necklace at her throat. For a split second, the room felt… alien. The posters, the scent, the softness of her own skin—it all blurred, replaced by a fleeting, jarring sense of wrongness. Then it vanished, leaving only a vague unease. Jessica dismissed it with a shrug, blaming tiredness, and reached for her Berry Bliss perfume, spritzing it lightly into the air. The sweet, familiar scent wrapped around her like a shield, soothing the strange ripple in her thoughts.

Later, under the soft glow of fairy lights, Jessica changed into silky pajamas. Standing before her full-length mirror, she examined her reflection with detached curiosity. Her dark hair cascaded past her shoulders in soft waves, framing a face with high cheekbones, full lips, and wide, long-lashed eyes that held a depth she didn’t quite recognize. She traced the smooth line of her jaw, down the slender column of her neck, over the gentle swell of her breasts beneath the thin fabric. Her hips curved softly into her waist, legs long and shapely. The transformation was complete—utterly, irrevocably female. A profound calm settled over her, deeper than any she’d known. The last lingering fragments of dissonance dissolved like sugar in hot tea. This was her. Always had been.

Sleep came swiftly, dreamless and deep. When dawn’s pale light crept through the lavender curtains, Jessica woke feeling utterly renewed. She stretched languidly, every movement fluid and instinctively feminine. Padding to the bathroom, she caught her reflection in the mirror above the sink—a girl, no trace of anything else. Her skin was flawless porcelain, her eyes bright and clear. She ran a hand through her hair, marveling at its silkiness, then applied a touch of berry-tinted lip gloss. The scent of Berry Bliss clung to her skin, mingling with the clean morning air. Downstairs, the clatter of breakfast dishes sounded distant, unimportant. She belonged entirely to this moment, this body, this life.

During breakfast, Lily watched with silent sadness as this "monster" Jessica completely consumed her brother's life. There was nothing left of him now, this girl had replaced him. She was angry, trying to make the end of the day come faster.

Jessica didn't notice her sister. She didn't notice anyone except herself of course.

At school, Jessica moved through the halls like royalty. Heads turned, whispers followed—admiring, envious. Gwen linked arms with her, chattering about the upcoming dance, while Brit complimented her new star-studded hair clip. Jessica laughed, the sound like wind chimes, her confidence radiating warmth. In PE, she dominated volleyball, diving and spiking with athletic grace that drew cheers. When Coach Miller praised her "natural talent," Jessica beamed, the compliment settling deep into her bones. She belonged here, celebrated, seen. The world was brighter, sharper, perfectly tuned to her frequency. Any lingering unease had evaporated like morning mist.

*****

Amy watched from the bleachers, her stomach churning. Each effortless sway of Jessica's hips, each melodic laugh, felt like a knife twisting in the remnants of Jason's memory. The transformation wasn't just complete—it was flaunted. Jessica wore her new reality like a crown, oblivious to the carnage left behind. Amy's witch-sense screamed at the speed of it; this wasn't adaptation, it was annihilation. Yesterday's faint pink glow now pulsed visibly around Jessica, a shimmering aura of corrupted magic that smelled sickly sweet, like rotting berries dipped in ozone. Anger coiled hot in Amy's chest. This wasn't just a curse; it was a violation.

The crafter of this spell truly was a devious person.

Her phone binged.

It was Jenna:

We have to take a later flight. Won't be in town until tomorrow morning

Amy typed back quickly: The transformation is complete. Still not sure what the curse item is. Gonna look for it today.

Jenna: Be careful

After school, Amy waited near the chain-link fence bordering the middle school playground, blending into the cluster of parents and older siblings. Lily emerged alone, her backpack slumping heavily off one shoulder, her expression tight and guarded. Amy fell into step beside her without a word, steering them away from the bustling sidewalk toward the quieter side streets. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows, stretching Lily’s silhouette thin and brittle.

"She should be in volleyball practice," Lily muttered, kicking a loose pebble. "She won’t be home till six."

Amy nodded, scanning Lily’s tense posture. "You okay?"

"No," Lily snapped, clutching her backpack straps. "I keep seeing him—Jason—in flashes. When she chews her lip like he used to, or when she hums that stupid pop song he hated." Her voice cracked. "It’s like watching a ghost wear her face."

"We'll break this" she said, giving the younger girl's hand a squeeze.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, the air thick with Lily's grief. As they approached the familiar suburban house, Amy pulled a smooth, river-polished obsidian stone from her pocket. It felt cool and heavy in her palm, humming faintly with containment magic. "Miss Moore gave me this after... after my own transition," she explained quietly. "It disrupts illusions and weakens enchantments. Should get us through Jessica's door."

Inside, the house felt unnervingly still. Sunlight slanted through dust motes in the hallway, the only sound Lily's shallow breathing. Amy paused outside Jessica's door—the silver star sticker shimmering faintly, the air thick with that cloying Berry Bliss scent mixed with ozone. She pressed the obsidian stone flat against the wood. A low thrum vibrated through her palm, followed by a sharp *crack* like ice breaking. The oppressive magical pressure instantly lessened, replaced by a brittle, hollow feeling.

"Open Sesame," Amy declared softly, gently touching the door.

There was no push back, the talisman worked.

Letting out a sigh of relief, she opened the door.

"Whoa" gasped Lily beside her, taking in the fully transformed bedroom.

Amy had no idea what it looked like before but it was clearly not the bedroom of a teen boy any longer. The pale lavender walls were enough to attest to that. She was impressed with how thorough this spell truly was. Magic was powerful and something like this, when done properly, had a way of settling in. Her own transformation for instance. Miss Moore changed her gender, in doing so, she rewrote reality as if she'd always been Amy. It was controlled and precise magic. It was also authorized too.

Miss Moore had later explained she'd been watching Amy for over a year. She had sensed the potential in her first. Then she started to notice how much she was not a boy on the inside. There were procedures and laws for things like this. Miss Moore had gone through the proper challenges. It was the very same ones she went through to punish her idiot friends. Well former friends.

Those idiots were all back to normal now with no memory of their time as little girls. It did have its lasting effects too. They learned their lesson even if they didn't remember it.

What was happening here was different though.

This Wild Magic was dangerous.

"No shit" gasped Lily, breaking Amy from her thoughts.

"What is it?" asked the older girl, wondering if Lily had figured out what didn't belong.

Well besides the usual of course.

"That" said Lily, pointing to a doll sitting on a shelf.

Amy blinked. "Isn't that a Molly doll?"

They had been really popular years ago. It felt like almost every girl had one. Hell even she had a few in a box in the back of her closet. They were a pretty popular fad but they fell out of popularity a long time ago. Now they were mostly collector's items.

"That's not just any Molly doll," said Lily incredulously. "That's Glitteratti Molly, she was a limited edition, only like 100 made."

Amy looked up at the black haired Barbie ripoff, posed on the shelf in her shiny silver dress.

"I can't believe..." Lily muttered, taking a step toward the shelf.

Amy grabbed her shoulder. "Focus"

Amy took a good look at the doll. At first she didn't notice it but she pushed out with her magic sense. As soon as she did, the magic that radiated off it nearly pushed her back.

"Do your fake memories have anything about Jessica liking Molly dolls?" she asked, having to make sure.

Lily paused for a moment then shook her head. "No. I'm the one who liked them. I have a small collection. Jessica wouldn't have cared but Jason..." Lily trailed off. "Shit. My birthday. Jason must of..."

Amy grabbed her hand, squeezing it. "So we know it wasn't intentional at least. My guess, someone cursed the doll and threw it out into the ether to be discovered. Your brother was just in the wrong place at the wrong time"

Lily cursed. "Of course as soon as Jason gets thoughtful and buys me a cool gift, it turns out to be evil".

"Focus, Lil".

Amy put herself between her young friend and the doll. The last thing she needed was for the doll to jump targets. Not that she thought something like that would actually happen. Cursed objects generally had one purpose. This doll was clearly meant to find a male victim and it was clearly designed to turn them into some vapid, air headed bitch. She didn't want to take any chances though.

She had done her job. She discovered the threat.

She pulled out her phone and took a quick picture of the doll.

She felt the magic in the room pulse.

"Now we flee" she said softly, moving Lily behind her slowly, still keeping herself between the girl and the doll.

"You're not going to take it?" asked Lily, surprised and a bit annoyed.

"I can't handle something like that," she said, staring at the evil doll. "My cousin is coming tomorrow. She'll take care of it"

They slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind them. Amy pressed the obsidian stone against the wood again, sealing the weakened barrier. Lily hovered nearby, twisting her fingers together. "What if Jessica notices?"

"She won't," Amy murmured, pocketing the stone. The oppressive Berry Bliss scent still clung to the hallway, but the frantic pulse of magic from behind the door had dulled to a low, uneasy thrum. "She has no knowledge that anything is wrong. To her she's always been this way. She probably thinks the doll has always been there too. This is a very nasty spell."

"What do we do until tomorrow?" asked Lily as the pair made it downstairs to the kitchen.

"Nothing. Act normal" Amy reassured her. "After school tomorrow, I'll come with my cousin. She'll contain the doll and we'll move forward from there."

She left the last part unsaid. In all likelihood, there wasn't much they could do about restoring Jason's gender.

This wasn't the first time something like this happened. In fact, she didn't always have a cousin named Jenna after all. Jenna didn't always have a girlfriend named Cassie either. She didn't know all the details of course because it happened a few years ago but she knew both of them had been boys like her and both of them were now stuck as girls because of a malicious spell like this one.

Amy said her goodbyes to Lily, promising to return tomorrow. She also told her to stay away from the room and especially that doll.

Lily nodded, her knuckles white where she gripped the kitchen counter. "Just... make it stop," she whispered, the plea raw in the quiet kitchen.

Amy squeezed her shoulder once—a silent vow—before slipping out the front door into the cooling evening air. The moment she stepped onto the sidewalk, the suffocating Berry Bliss scent lifted, replaced by damp grass and exhaust fumes. She pulled out her phone, fingers trembling slightly as she texted Jenna: Found the source. Glitterati Molly doll. Cursed. Need containment ASAP.

The reply came swiftly: We land at 3 pm. Stay sharp.

Amy pocketed her phone, the obsidian stone a cold weight against her thigh.

Sharp. Right. She’d try.

*****

That night, Jessica dreamed of a boy with messy brown hair and anxious eyes, trapped behind thick glass. He pounded silently, mouthing words she couldn’t hear—her own face reflected back at him in the smudged surface. She woke gasping, her heart pounding against ribs that felt too fragile. Sweat plastered her silk pajamas to her skin, and the lingering scent of Berry Bliss suddenly felt cloying, nauseating. A dull ache throbbed low in her belly, sharpening into cramps as she curled onto her side. She fumbled for the ibuprofen in her nightstand drawer, fingers trembling. *Must be my period*, she thought hazily, the explanation a flimsy raft in the churning sea of her unease. The dream boy’s desperate eyes flickered behind her eyelids, but she shoved the image away, burying it under the familiar rhythm of cramps and the soft pink glow of her alarm clock.

After a relaxing shower and getting ready, by breakfast, the dream was a hazy memory.

Jessica glided into the kitchen, humming softly. She reached for the berry yogurt, her movements smooth and practiced. Across the table, Lily shoveled cereal into her mouth with aggressive clinks of her spoon, her gaze fixed on Jessica with undisguised hostility. Jessica felt the familiar prickle of annoyance. What was Lily’s problem lately? They used to be close, giggling over silly videos and sharing secrets. Now, Lily acted like a sullen stranger, radiating bitterness that soured the morning air. Jessica took a deliberate spoonful of yogurt, the sweetness clashing with her sister’s silent fury. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," she remarked lightly, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"Someone woke up as a different person entirely" mumbled her sister.

Jessica gave her a confused look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

For a slight, brief moment, she felt something. Something pushing at the back of her mind. She shook it off.

"Girls, please don't fight in the morning" Their mother scolded, sitting down with a cup of coffee.

Jessica needed to change the subject. "Is Daddy coming this weekend?"

Their mother scoffed. "I wish I knew".

Her father was never home. He was always traveling for work. She once suspected him of having an affair but he was too boring for that. The man---when around---was also devoted to their mother. If he cheated on her, her mother would bury him in court. It wasn't worth the effort. Besides, Daddy was wrapped around their Mom's finger.

Its how she treated Craig too.

That reminded her of something. "Mom" she said, putting on one of her award winning smiles that everyone loved. "Craig and I are going to the dance next weekend. You think I can get the card to buy a new fab dress?"

"Another new dress?" Her mother was annoyed. "Didn't you just buy one?"

Jessica scoffed. "That was last week, Mom. It's so last week now!"

Her Mom sighed and caved. She opened her purse and took out her credit card, handing it to Jessica who squealed.

Lily watched the exchange with dreaded interest. This will all be over soon, she thought, making a fist under the table and digging her fingernails into her palm.

*****

After school, Amy leaned against the chain-link fence, scrolling through her phone as students streamed past. The afternoon sun warmed her shoulders, but a chill lingered in her bones from Jessica’s radiant, oblivious energy earlier in the hallway. Her phone buzzed—a new message. Jenna’s name flashed on the screen:

Landed. Cassie’s with me. OMW. Meet us at the diner on Elm in 20.

Relief washed over Amy, sharp and sudden, loosening the knot of tension between her shoulder blades. She texted back a quick thumbs-up emoji, already pushing off the fence. The obsidian stone in her pocket felt suddenly lighter, warmer—a promise of backup.

Amy’s fingers flew over her phone screen: Lily - meet at Sally’s Diner on Elm after school. It’s time. She hit send, picturing Lily’s face—the flicker of hope, the clenched fists. Jessica would be at volleyball practice for another 2 hours. Plenty of time.

Sally's was only a few blocks from the high school, Amy made it with plenty of time. She got a booth by the window and waited. 10 minutes later, a black rental pulled into the parking lot. As soon as Jenna got out of the car, relief washed over her.

Jenna looked exactly as Amy remembered her: college-age, with messy dark blonde hair pulled into a practical ponytail, wearing jeans and a faded band t-shirt under an open flannel shirt. She moved with the easy confidence of someone who'd seen too much weird magic not to be calm about it. Behind her, Cassie unfolded herself from the passenger seat—tall, with long, ink-black hair cascading over her shoulders, sharp cheekbones, and intense dark eyes that scanned the diner's entrance like a hawk. She wore all black—a fitted turtleneck sweater, slim jeans, and boots—looking less like a witch and more like a moody art student who might curse you for fun.

They met Amy inside, both giving her a hug in turn.

"Look at you, little cuz, stepping up in the world huh?" Jenna laughed after taking a seat.

"Congrats on joining the Right side" added Cassie with a wink.

It had been a year since Amy's transformation and this was technically the first time she'd seen her cousin "Jenna". Of course she had memories of meeting her and hanging out with her but they were part of the spell. The last time she physically met Jenna, she was still Jeremy. It was a few months before the incident with Rachel that turned Jeremy and his best friend Casey into the two beautiful witches before her.

"So when does our inside girl get here?" asked Jenna, looking toward the door.

"She's in middle school. Probably another 20 minutes or so" Amy looked at her phone to make sure. "Want to eat something first?"

Cassie slid into the booth next to Jenna, her sharp eyes scanning the laminated menu. "Coffee. Black. And whatever passes for pie here." Her voice was low, edged with impatience. Jenna ordered fries and a milkshake—comfort food for impending doom. Amy settled for a soda, her stomach too knotted for solids. They ate in loaded silence broken only by clinking silverware and distant chatter from the counter. Jenna pushed her fries toward Cassie, who stabbed one with precise disdain. Amy traced condensation rings on the formica tabletop, counting seconds until Lily arrived.

The bell above the diner door jingled. Lily stood silhouetted against the afternoon glare, backpack dangling from one shoulder, her face pale but set. She scanned the booths, spotted them, and marched over with stiff determination. Sliding in beside Amy, she didn't greet anyone. Her hands clenched on the table, knuckles white. "She's still at practice," Lily stated flatly. "We have maybe an hour." Her gaze locked onto Jenna. "You're the expert. Tell me how we save my brother."

"Simple" said Jenna, munching on a fry. "We neutralize the doll"

"You can do that?" asked Lily, skeptical.

Jenna smirked, confident. "I can do that"

Cassie leaned forward, her dark eyes sharp. "But neutralizing the doll doesn't guarantee reversing the spell. Magic this deep—it rewrites reality. Your brother might be gone."

Amy reached over and squeezed Lily's hand. "We're not going to let that happen, right?" She said, giving both older girls a look.

Jenna exchanged her own look with Cassie. "We'll put some precautions into place"

After polishing off the fries and pie, Jenna slid out of the booth. "Alright, troops. Time to move." She tossed cash onto the table—enough to cover the bill and a generous tip—and led them out into the parking lot. The black rental sedan waited under an oak tree, its dark paint absorbing the afternoon light.

They drove to Lily's house following her directions. Pulling into the driveway, Jenna turned from the driver's seat. "Ok so, Cas is going to stay in the hall with Lily. Amy and I are going to go in, grab Chucky's evil sister and there is going to be no complaints. Right?" She looked at Lily as she said it.

Lily sighed. "And my brother...?"

"We've got this," said Jenna with a reassuring smile.

Inside, the house felt colder than yesterday. The Berry Bliss scent hung thicker, almost syrupy, making Amy’s throat tighten. Jenna paused at Jessica’s door, her expression hardening as she felt the corrupted magic pulsing behind the wood—a frantic, desperate rhythm now, like a trapped animal’s heartbeat. Cassie positioned herself protectively beside Lily in the hallway, a silent sentinel. Jenna placed her palm flat against the door where Amy’s obsidian seal still held, whispering words Amy couldn’t catch. The air crackled, and the door swung inward with a groan.

The Molly doll sat primly on its shelf, radiating malice. As Jenna stepped into the lavender room, Glitterati Molly’s head snapped toward her. Plastic eyelids blinked. A high-pitched, distorted giggle echoed from its tiny mouth, freezing Amy mid-step. Jenna didn’t flinch. She raised her hand, fingers splayed, and a shimmering barrier of golden light flared between her and the doll. The doll’s giggle twisted into a shriek. Silver sparks erupted from its painted eyes, lashing out like whips against Jenna’s shield, filling the air with the acrid stench of ozone and burnt plastic. The shelf rattled violently. Beside Amy, Lily gasped, shrinking back against Cassie.

Jenna’s voice cut through the chaos, calm and commanding. "Enough!" She clenched her fist. The golden light intensified, condensing into a net that slammed down over the doll, pinning it to the shelf. The silver sparks sputtered and died. The doll writhed silently beneath the glowing mesh, its painted smile now a grotesque rictus of fury. Jenna strode forward, her boots crunching on fallen glitter. She pulled a small obsidian vial from her pocket, uncorked it with her teeth, and poured a stream of shimmering, ink-black liquid over the trapped doll. Where it touched, the Molly doll’s form hissed and smoked, its vibrant colors leaching away into dull, lifeless grey.

A final, silent scream seemed to echo in Amy’s mind as the doll froze mid-twist. Its plastic eyes clouded over. The oppressive Berry Bliss scent vanished instantly, replaced by the sharp tang of ozone and burnt sugar. The frantic pulse of magic that had saturated the room dissolved into dead air. Jenna carefully lifted the now-inert doll, its limbs stiff and harmless. "Sealed," she announced, her voice tight with exertion. She dropped the grey husk into a velvet drawstring bag Cassie handed her, pulling the cords tight. "The curse is contained. Neutralized."

"Jenna 1, Molly 0" Cassie said with a smirk as Jenna tossed her the bag.

"And now your brother" said Jenna, closing her eyes.

Her magic unfurled like a silken ribbon, slipping past the stale Berry Bliss scent still clinging to the hallway. It wound through streets, past oblivious students, and into the humid air of the high school gymnasium. Jessica stood at the volleyball net, poised for a serve, her body radiating vibrant, corrupted magic. Jenna touched the edges of the spell woven deep into Jessica’s core—threads of rewritten memories, altered physiology, and stolen identity. It wasn't just layered on her; it was her now, fused with her nervous system, her thoughts, her breath. Pulling it out would unravel Jessica entirely. Jenna’s jaw tightened. She couldn’t undo the transformation any more than she could unscramble an egg. But she could do what Great Aunt Clara had done for her years ago: anchor the new reality, stabilize the magic before it consumed its host whole.

Jessica would still be Jessica but she could bring Jason back as well. It would be just like her and Cassie. Like Amy too. It wasn't the best course of action but the practitioner of this curse was a nasty person.

In the gymnasium, overwhelmed by the new spell, Jessica collapsed.

*****

Jessica blinked awake in her lavender bedroom, the familiar scent of Berry Bliss replaced by something sharper—ozone and burnt sugar. Lily sat perched on the edge of her bed, eyes wide and red-rimmed.

"Jess?" Lily whispered, her voice cracking.

For a dizzying moment, Jessica wasn't just Jessica. She was Jason too—trapped behind thick glass, pounding silently while her own reflection stared back. The volleyball net, Craig’s hand on her waist, the suffocating pink perfection of her life—all collided with memories of skateboard scrapes, Dad’s toolbox smelling of grease, and Lily’s eighth birthday where he’d taught them both to change a tire. Her head throbbed, two sets of instincts warring: the urge to file her nails warring with the impulse to crack her knuckles. She clutched her temples, gasping as the room spun—pink walls bleeding into blue, lace curtains flickering like garage fluorescents.

Lily grabbed her hand, squeezing hard. "Jess? Jason? Can you hear me?" The raw desperation in her sister’s voice anchored her. Jessica blinked, focusing on Lily’s tear-streaked face. Jason’s protectiveness surged—sharp and fierce—melding with Jessica’s habitual concern.

"Lils?" she rasped, her voice unfamiliar, layered with echoes. "What... happened?"

"Magic" said someone as a college girl---Jenna---came over to the bed. "Name's Jenna, witch extraordinaire. I'm with her" She pointed to Amy over in the corner. "And you were cursed"

Jessica stared at Jenna, then at Amy, then at Lily. Her mind felt like shattered glass—each fragment reflecting a different truth. One shard showed Jason buying the doll for Lily’s birthday; another showed Jessica spraying Berry Bliss perfume this morning. Her fingers traced the soft fabric of her pajama top—Jason would’ve hated the lace trim. "Cursed?" she echoed, her voice wavering between Jessica’s melodic tone and Jason’s rougher cadence. "By... what?"

"The Glitterati Molly doll," Jenna explained briskly, pulling up a desk chair. She leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Wild Magic—unlicensed, unstable stuff. It latched onto Jason’s innocent birthday wish for Lily and twisted it." She gestured at Jessica’s body. "This wasn't a transformation. It was replacement. The doll wanted a perfect owner—so it overwrote Jason to create you."

Jessica’s fingers instinctively brushed against her throat—Jason’s Adam’s apple was gone. Her breath hitched. "But... I remember being Jason. Buying the doll. Hiding it." The memories surfaced jaggedly—Jason’s nervousness in the thrift store, Jessica’s delight in pink nail polish. They collided painfully.

Jenna nodded, her gaze steady. "The curse didn’t erase Jason; it buried him under layers of Jessica. Think of it like... two radio stations playing at once." She tapped Jessica’s temple. "You’re hearing both signals now because I stabilized the magic. It will even out in a couple of days then it will be like you're who you were meant to be if you'd been born Jessica but with Jason's personality. If that makes sense"

"It doesn't but I'll take your word for it" she rubbed her temples, memories flooding about. Suddenly she groaned. "I'm dating Craig"

Amy laughed. "Only if that's what you want?"

"This is a lot to get used to," she mumbled.

She did get used to it. Over the next couple of days. Jenna and Cassie stayed in town, camped out in Amy’s guest room, and became Jessica’s unexpected anchors. Cassie taught her grounding exercises—breathing techniques that silenced the warring radio stations in her skull—while Jenna explained Wild Magic’s chaotic rules with brutal honesty. Jessica learned to navigate the dual currents: Jason’s dry humor surfacing during dinner, Jessica’s instinctive reach for Lily’s hand when her sister flinched at a loud noise. The Berry Bliss perfume made her sneeze now, replaced by Cassie’s recommendation—something crisp and clean, like rain on cedar.

After Jenna and Cassie left, Jessica found Amy waiting by her locker each morning. They’d walk to classes together, Amy’s quiet presence a steady counterpoint to Jessica’s churning thoughts. When Jessica’s voice slipped into Jason’s lower register during history class, Amy just passed her a mint. When Jessica panicked over choosing between skirts and jeans, Amy shrugged. "Wear what doesn’t itch." Simple. Solid. Jessica clung to that.

Slowly though, it was as if she was always Jessica now.

"That's it now" said Amy one day a week later as they were going to class together. "After awhile it won't even feel weird"

It did feel weird though. She was still friends with Britney and Gwen but she was also friends with Ben and Leo again too. Then there was Craig. She avoided him for a few days, trying to make sense of the idea of dating a boy. The more she fought it though, the more she realized she really did like him.

A couple days before Lily's birthday, Jessica got a package in the mail. It was wrapped in plain brown paper, the return address a nondescript PO Box Jenna had used. Inside, nestled in layers of protective bubble wrap, sat another Glitteratti Molly doll. This one looked identical to the cursed one—same glittery gown, same unnerving smile. Found by Jenna and magicked by her just in case. "Curse-resistant," Jenna had called it over the phone. "Think of it as magical armor in doll form."

Jessica carried the package to her room and set it on the bed.

"You whammy me, you're going into a wood chipper. You hear me?" She warned, side-eying the doll.

Of course it said nothing, just like a doll should.

"Good. Then we can be friends".

Elsewhere:

Randy's fingers mashed greasy buttons on his controller, the sickly glow of the TV screen reflecting in the sweat beading on his forehead. Down in the basement—his kingdom of empty pizza boxes and discarded energy drink cans—the air hung thick with the smell of stale cheese and unwashed laundry. His gut spilled over the waistband of stained sweatpants, pressing against the edge of the worn couch cushion. "Get wrecked, scrub!" he yelled at the screen, spittle flying, as his online character scored a cheap kill. High school graduation was a blurry memory three years past, replaced by the monotonous rhythm of microwaved meals, marathon gaming sessions, and the vague, gnawing resentment that the world owed him something more. College brochures gathered dust upstairs, untouched. Why bother? This was easier.

This wasn't always his life though.

He had a different one, a better one. But one who could not voice aloud. It was always there, always at the back of his mind. It screamed to be let out. This was his punishment though. He was supposed to repent and become a better person. The problem was, he liked his life. Sure he wanted his old one but he knew that was never happening. He did some awful, horrible things and no amount of repenting was going to change that.

"As ugly on the outside as on the in".

His Great Aunt's words still echoed in his head.

The sound of chunky heeled boots on the stairs caught his attention but he barely flinched. He knew what this was.

"I'm not in the mood today, Jenna" he groaned, never taking his attention off the screen.

Something landed in his lap. He glanced down at a velvet bag.

"What's this?" he snorted, not interested in whatever she was coming to bitch about today.

"I don't know, why don't you tell me, sis" Jenna said, catching his attention.

His character on the screen died instantly. Randy flashed for a second and a second later, Rachel looked at Jenna.

Though still Randy, she glared at her former brother. "What have I supposedly done now?" She asked, picking up the bag and looking inside.

Jenna had her hand on her lip. "One of your little yard sale trinkets made its way to one of Amy's classmates"

Inside the bag, a gray misshapen doll stared up at her.

"What the hell is this?" she/he asked, staring at the doll.

"You tell me" said Jenna, hands on her hips. "I vaguely remembering you selling a bunch of your old stuff at a yard sale years ago. Perhaps there's something you want to tell me?"

The color drained from his/her face.

"I think you and I need to have a nice long chat".

The End?

Author’s note: As I’m sure all of you know, comments are life blood to an author. I’m not begging or demanding, but I certainly would appreciate anything you have to say (or ask). It doesn’t have to be long and involved, just give me your reaction to the story. Thanks in advance...EOF