Cameron To Candy

Steam curled up around the tiled pillars, drifting lazily toward the lanterns overhead. Candy tried not to stare, but her eyes kept snagging on the blonde across the pool. Marilyn Monrope, she’d been told, with her impossibly full chest, laughed with her friend Mona Lasso as they walked. The size was unnatural, almost buoyant. Candy remembered overhearing her talking weeks ago, that her husband had given her a breast augmentation spell for her birthday. Candy had snorted. Yeah, she’d thought, more like for HIS birthday.

She admired beauty, always had, but when it came bought and bent under a man’s command? Well, that was less ideal. Nonetheless, Candy was still Cameron inside, for the most part, and Cameron appreciated a nice set of breasts. It was a secret pleasure for Candy here at the bathhouse, though she had to be careful. Glance, don’t stare, she reminded herself. She thought she was doing a good job…

“Hun,” Vivian whispered at her side, “why are you staring at that chick?”

Candy jolted. “Oh! Sorry. It’s just… I heard her husband made her get a boob job spell.” She rallied quickly.

Vivian tilted her head. “Ah. That explains a lot. I didn’t think she used to be that big.”

As the chick (otherwise known as Marilyn) and her friend Mona got closer, Marilyn tripped and bumped her ample bosoms into Mona with an apologetic laugh. “Oh, sorry, hun, still not used to their projection.”

Mona waved it off. “No problem.” They both nodded politely toward Candy’s group. The pools were not unlimited. A group didn’t always get one to themselves.

Candy’s mouth moved faster than her sense. “Yeah, I get that. I’m still not used to mine…”

She froze. Eyes wide. The words dropped into the steamy air like stones. Had she just outed herself? Oh gods, what now? Did she have to alert the ministry? Would they disappear her? Or her friends?! Would these four be the first of her eight? What about-

Vivian, misunderstanding completely, grinned. “Thank the gods you finally said something!”

Candy gapped. “What?”

Alyssa leaned in. “Since we met you, we thought you were far too pert in that region.”

Vivian smirked. “We figured you’d had some work done.”

Candy’s pulse spiked. Then, with a careful laugh, she grabbed the lifeline. “Right. Yes! Marcus made me get it, right after the forced marriage. Said if I was going to be ‘the troubled girl,’ I might as well look good.”

Alyssa wrinkled her nose. “Curious. I wouldn’t have thought Marcus the sort for that. Well… good for him, I suppose.”

Vivian giggled. “He made you his EYE CANDY!” then burst into laughter at her own pun.

“Oh, haha,” Candy replied. Darn it. That joke was right there for the taking!

Marilyn, overhearing, gave a wry little shrug as she settled into the water. “Typical. Mine had me changed too. But did he raise my allowance to match? No. So here I am, cramming F-cups into C-cup bras and pinching silver from pastry money.”

A round of murmurs went through the circle of women.

“Ouch!” Vivian cried. “I can only imagine. Hey, it’s Marilyn, right? And, uh, Mona, was it?”

“Yes,” the blonde smiled. “Maryiln Monrope, and this is my friend Mona Lasso.”

“Hi!” Mona greeted with a gentle smile.

“Vivian, right?” Marilyn asked.

“Yep! Corkhollow. And these are my friends, Alyssa Halberdine and Candy Elwood. The group exchanged greeting waves and polite smiles.

“Oh!” Mona cried, voice quick and warm. “Tell them the story about your girls!”

Marilyn groaned and face-palmed. “Oh, gods, it’s perfectly embarrassing.” Her voice came soft and breathy, each word drawn out like steam. “My daughters… wwwhell, we had to explain to them that daddy bought mommy her new chest, because even they noticed. And now they think breasts, literally all boobs, are gifts from husbands!”

Mona burst into laughter, the sound hearty and unrestrained. It took the other three a beat to process. Alyssa’s hand flew over her mouth, eyes wide. Candy and Vivian exchanged a look before breaking into laughter too. Vivian had to wipe a tear from her eye.

“Well,” Candy declared, dry and amused, “that is the most hilariously awful thing I’ve heard all month.”

Marilyn kept her hand over her reddening face, shoulders shaking with half-shy, half-pleased laughter.

As the giggles tapered, Alyssa tilted her head, her voice curious but careful. “You know, it’s a bit of a faux pas, but since we’re on the subject… I am rather curious. What is everyone’s allowance?”

Marilyn leaned back against the tile, cupping her bust with a sigh. Her words floated soft and languid. “Se-ven go-old a week. Mm, sounds grand, doesn’t it? But all it buys me is gowns, gowns, gowns… I can’t keep squeezing these puppies into my old C-cups forever. And not a single little pastry for mama. I walk past the bakery and I just… sigh.”

Vivian let out a quick whistle. “Seven golds a TON! And still no cake? Damn girl, how expensive are your dresses?”

“Embarrassingly so,” Marilyn admitted. “What about you Mona?”

Mona Lasso chuckled, her tone brisk and steady. “One gold from my craftsman. Covers the bakers, tea leaves, a new dress for each season. Sometimes I splurge on books. Not bad at all. Still, if he could keep the sawdust out of the stew, I’d count that worth more than coin.”

Vivian rolled her eyes. “Try two silver. Dad says that’s perfectly average for a girl under her father’s roof. It covers the exotic soap, ribbons, stockings maybe a massage in the fancy side of the pool house if I don’t do the really expensive sweets. But the good baking chocolate? Rarely.”

Alyssa gave a small, dry laugh. “One silver. That’s what my brother allows. It barely covers a blouse and peanut candy. But…” She straightened a little, pride flickering in her voice. “I keep my Guild wages. Five copper a week. It’s not much, but it’s mine.”

Mona tipped her head in respect. “Five of your own is worth more than a gold dropped in your lap.”

At last, they turned to Candy. She shifted, feeling the weight of every gaze. “I… don’t have an allowance.”

Marilyn’s lips parted in surprise. “No allowance?”

Candy shrugged, dry and casual. “Marcus keeps a bowl of coins on the sideboard. I take what I need. Truth is, I spend less than most of you anyway. I, uh, don’t go out much.”

Vivian’s grin turned sharp, catlike. “So the real question is… how deep is the bowl?”

The circle burst into laughter, steam rising around them like a curtain.

“You know, the worst isn’t having a small allowance,” Mona said with a crooked smile, “It’s losing track of your tally. I thought I had more once and had the chocolate bill sent to my husband when I forgot my purse. It was just two copper over, but my husband still took me over his knee! And he canceled my allowance for two weeks after.”

Marilyn scoffed. “See, that’s why I’m not rushing into marriage. You get spanked every week, whether you misbehave or not. And worse, you have to be punished by your own husband. Imagine that. Twenty swats every Rodday, minimum.”

Marilyn cut in with a knowing snort. “Yeah. Twenty, if you’re lucky. Most men add on another five or ten just to make a point.”

Candy’s head snapped up. “Wait, what? More than twenty?”

“Of course,” Mona said, as if it were obvious. The women looked at her as though she’d asked if water was wet. “What else?”

“Huh,” Candy muttered. “Marcus never does more than twenty.”

Marilyn arched a brow. “Then your husband is generous, sweetie. You’re lucky. Most wives take the full count, and then some.” Candy considered this, sinking back against the tile, heat rising in her chest. So he really has been sparing me, she thought.

Mona Lasso sighed, stretching her arms along the pool edge. “I will say though, maintenance really takes the edge off, sugar. Sure, it's hard during the spanking, but when it's done you get that warm floaty feeling, light as a feather.”

Marilyn Monrope purred, eyes half-lidded. “Mmm, darling, it’s not only discipline… it’s a release. The post correction glow. You melt into your husband’s arms, bottom warmed, safe, soothed… and the aftercare? Oh, it’s divine.”

Candy smirked. “So bruises are the new spa treatment?”

Mona chuckled. “Don’t be coy. You’ve felt it too, haven’t you?”

Candy startled, caught. “Oh, um… I mean… yeah, sure. Just maybe not… as intensely as you ladies.”

Marilyn smiled knowingly, lashes fluttering. “Of course not, dear. You’re still new to it. It grows in time. You’ll see.”

“Right,” Candy said, forcing a laugh. “Time.” Candy sank lower in the water, lips pressed tight. Was it her body? Maybe the spell not rewiring that part? Or was it her mind, since she hadn't been conditioned like the other ladies to like this? Either way, she wanted no part of “floating” after a spanking, and hoped if it was physical, the spell would never change her that way.

“Is your father still campaigning to marry you off?” Alyssa asked Vivian.

“Oh, you know it! Last week, he forced me to attend a date with a man so dreadfully dull he talked about barley for twenty minutes! No exaggeration!” An explosion of sympathetic headshakes and empathetic phrases broke out.

Marilyn shifted against the tile, curiosity flickering. “So, Alyssa, you said you work for the guild? What’s that like? I’ve always wondered, what with it being the only wo-oman-run guild in Paddlewick and all.”

Mona leaned forward, eyes wide. “Is it true Queen Issadora involves herself often? Have you met her?”

Alyssa’s cheeks colored slightly, but she straightened with a quiet pride. “I can’t say much about specifics. I was put under oath of secrecy before I joined. But I can tell you this, I’m only a junior mixer. I measure pigments and magic ratios for the inks. Some tattoos are just sealed so they never fade, others are far stronger. I’ve seen mixtures that glow when a wife is truly sorry, or tighten if vows are broken.”

A murmur of surprise went around the circle.

“And the Queen?” Mona pressed.

Alyssa gave a small laugh. “Only in the general way. Once, the entire staff was introduced, our master artists, the etchers, and us mixers. When it came to us, the Guildmistress waved at our little row and said, ‘and these five are our ink team.’ Queen Isadora gave us a nod. That was it. Still…” She glanced into the steam with a faint smile. “I won’t ever forget it.”

She turned suddenly to Candy, her tone curious but firm. “By the way Candy, have you had a chance to look over the material I gave you? You can’t put it off forever. Every wife must get her marital tattoo eventually.”

Candy made a face, sinking lower in the water. “Gludge. Don’t remind me.”

Vivian slid closer, eyes wicked. “Get a butt dragon, Candy. Wings over the hip, tail curling down the crease. Lady Butt Dragon returns.”

Candy gave her a look. “I should never have told you that story.”

Marilyn laughed, then lifted her chin with a little pride. “Sounds like a fun inside joke. If it helps, mine is a ribboned bouquet, peonies and little pastry blossoms. His initials are tucked into the ribbon stitching, so small the Guildmistress needed a glass to check them. Many wo-men do a version of their husband's family crest. I felt, why? I’ll see that all over the house anyway. I don’t need it on my bottom.”

Mona swirled the water. “I went with knotwork. Woodgrain band, a tiny saw worked into the pattern for my craftsman, and his initials hidden in the rings like tree growth. He suggested a hammer, I smiled, then I picked the grain, he approved.”

Vivian snorted. “Hammer would have been subtle.”

Marilyn tilted her head at Candy. “How long have you been married anyway?”

Candy sighed. “Into the fifth month in a few days.”

Mona’s brows rose. “Ah, so, you’re stretching it out, still within grace. Some girls get theirs when engaged, most within three months from what I hear though, yes?”

Alyssa nodded. “Most have them by three months, but by law she has one full year. After that, the Guild sends a polite letter, and by polite I mean a parchment version of a kick in the arse.”

Vivian tapped her. “Do a dragon, or a door with teeth, or, hear me out, a very fancy thorned vine that just happens to curl into an M for Marcus, the E tucked into the leaf veins. Traditional but petty.”

Candy sank a little deeper, cheeks warm. “If I show up with a dragon across my backside, Mrs. Prim will faint on the spot, then make me fan her.”

Marilyn giggled. “Worth it.”

Mona grinned. “Pick what makes you breathe easier in your own skin. The initials can hide in leaves, stitches, pastry lace, whatever you like. He has to accept it.”

Alyssa glanced over. “And you still have the packet I gave you, right? Sketches, sealant options, glow-when-sorry inks, the whole lot. Do not stall forever.”

Candy lifted a hand in surrender. “Fine, I'll look again tonight. No dragons. Maybe leaves. Maybe something with fire. Definitely tiny.”

Vivian flicked water at her. “Coward.”

“Practical,” Candy said, then smirked. “Although a very small dragon eating a very small Mrs. Prim is tempting.” The circle cackled, steam drifting up like confetti.

The chatter drifted after that, more laughter, a few sighs. The water lapped at the stone edges as conversation wandered. Someone finally asked, half-teasing, half-curious, “So… what’s everyone up to tomorrow?”

Marilyn lifted a hand, languid as a queen at ease. “Oh, there’s a ball. Would you believe it? In Plumaloom, of all places. All feathers and fan-dancing. I’ll be coughing up dander for a week.”

“My Dad’s probably going to make me go through the eligible bachelors, again,” Vivian complained.

A few groans and chuckles echoed in the steam. Then Mona turned toward Candy. “And you, dear? What are you doing tomorrow?”

Candy froze, then smoothed her towel. “Me? I’m, uh… having lunch with my husband’s cousin. She’s back in town for the week.”

“Do we know her?” Vivian asked.

“Maybe. Her name is Penny… er, Spankswell.”

Marilyn’s brows shot up. “Wait. Isn’t she on that Scrycast? The Guild of the Gaggle?”

Candy nodded, trying to sound casual. “Yeah. The Giggled Gaggle. It’s getting pretty popular.”

Vivian perked up, grinning. “Oh, I’ve watched that! Honestly? It’s better than anything Paddlewick’s been churning out lately.”

Alyssa growled, sinking deeper into the pool. “If I have to sit through another Ministry documentary on proper bench-polish technique, I’ll personally program every magic mirror in the city to turn off on SunDay.”

Candy splashed her playfully. “Don’t say that, you’ll set off the crystals.”

The whole circle laughed, their voices bouncing off the steamy tiles, the tension of Paddlewick easing for now. Then Mona, emboldened by the steam and sisterhood, tilted her head toward Candy and Marilyn.

“You know,” she said, “I’ve thought about getting a spell myself. Just curious. Since you two got different spells, do they feel different? Could I possibly feel them?”

“Mona! How bold!” Marylin cried.

“Oh, like you care honey!”

They burst out laughing.

“You’re right,” Marilyn confirmed. “If you’d like, go Mona, you’ll be like the fifth wo-oman to do so here anyway sweetie. What about you Candy?”

Holy cow! This was it. The chance Candy had been waiting for! Candy’s pulse thudded. Holy hell, this was it. The chance she had daydreamed about but never dared suggest, not with her secret. If they knew she had once been Cameron, that a man’s hands were on them, they’d scream, curse her as a fraud, maybe worse. She forced a casual shrug.

“Well, I guess if it helps you make an informed decision,” she feigned. “But only if I can feel you both too. I want to compare to natural ones and other spells.”

There was a ripple of giggles and agreements. She cupped one of Marilyn's exposed breasts, the other being in Mona’s hand at the moment. Marylin's pink nipple stiffened in response. Her breasts were perfect, being the style Candy loved. Tear drop shaped, full and heavy in the front, narrowing as they reached her chest, heavy yet springy, the soft flesh giving in her palm.

As the comparisons began, Alyssa rose hastily from the water. “Well, that’s enough tits for me today, friends. I’m going to towel off.”

“Not me,” Vivian said with a wicked grin, eyes sparkling. “I’m staying to see how this plays out.”

Candy’s cheeks burned, but inside she was grinning too. Gods help me, she thought, one hand full of Marilyn’s breast, the other squeezing Mona’s, this is heaven.