Cameron To Candy

It took a few days after the Greg incident for Marcus and Candy to start feeling normal again, whatever that meant for them. The day after his discovery, Greg was dragged into a ministry building and grilled on what he knew, how he knew it, and assessed for his ability to keep it to himself. Marcus and Candy were told very little, but they inferred the process took longer than it had been projected to. They assumed Greg's inability to keep a joke to himself slowed the process.

The interrogators were none too pleased Greg had (mostly) figured it out on his own, thanks in part to Candy's slip-up, nor were they happy about his conclusion of a spy in Paddlewick, however it sounded like they'd relaxed when they learned the big lug had concluded she was an insect person. Tweaks to her cover story would need to be made, but ultimately they concluded it was unlikely anyone else would have the knowledge of Cameron and the boldness to question them on such meager evidence.

They'd gotten lucky, as Marcus put it.

In the present, inside their bedroom, Marcus shut the wardrobe door with a satisfying click, turned to Candy, and said the words that instantly ruined her mood.

“Hey, uh, I got word this morning from my Uncle, my cousin Lennie needs to stay with us this weekend.”

Candy froze mid-sock-fold. “Oh, gludge.”

Marcus arched a brow. “What’s the problem? You like Lennie.”

“I liked her as Cameron, when I was a man,” Candy said, dropping the socks like they were toxic. “She doesn’t know I’m the victim of a backfired spell that turned me into a girl. Now I have to spend all weekend pretending to be your loving, demure wife while talking about, I don’t know, corset liners and bust firming balms.”

Marcus snorted. “Oh come on, you saw her at the Kingsday feast and it was ok. And she’s sweet.”

“She’s nineteen and in her third trimester at Paddlewick Prime’s Wife Academy,” Candy hissed. “That place makes the Ministry look like camp.”

“She’s not that bad.”

“She wrote Penny a thank-you note for recommending the book The Art of Folding Under Husbandly Wisdom.”

“It’s a good book!”

Candy glared daggers at him for a moment before responding. “Why is she coming here anyway? Why not stay at home for the weekend?”

“Apparently, my Uncle has some business out of town and has already left with my aunt. The options were here or with my parents, and she chose here.”

Candy huffed. “Well, I can’t blame her for that part.”

“It’s just a weekend. We’ll get through it. Just do your best to be a good—”

“Excuse you!?”

“Host! I was going to say host!” Marcus yelled, throwing his hands up in front of him like a shield. Candy growled under her breath, glaring at him, but let it go.

***

The next morning, the carriage pulled up exactly on time. Paddlewick Prime Academy girls didn’t dawdle. Lennie stepped down with textbook poise, clutching her purse to her chest with both hands. Two modest travel bags sat at the driver’s feet.

Candy and Marcus walked out to meet her.

“Oh, hi!” Lennie chirped, cheeks pink with excitement. “Thanks so much for having me! I’d stay with Mom and Father, but they’re traveling for business, something about the Restoration Festival. They said you'd be the perfect hosts!”

“Of course, cousin,” Marcus said warmly. “We’re happy to have you.”

She beamed. “Oh, good!” And then, without thinking about it, she lowered her purse.

Candy and Marcus stared. Marcus’s brows furrowed. Candy’s jaw slowly dropped. There was a long, awkward pause.

“…Lennie,” Candy finally said, slowly. “What the hells happened to your boobs?!”

Lennie looked down, as if only now reminded. Her bust strained her modest academy blouse like it was trying to escape. “Oh! Right. Um. So, this week at the Academy was Breast Augmentation Week. It’s supposed to help us develop pose, and adjust faster in case our future husbands decide to, um… modify us.”

Marcus choked slightly.

“It’s a temporary spell,” Lennie added quickly. “We just have to carry the weight for seven days. It’s not bad… well, it’s actually really hard to sit at a desk right now.”

Candy gawked. “Well, yeah. You brought two travel bags and two more up front.”

Lennie flushed. “Yeah, they are a lot. I’m three cup sizes bigger than normal right now, plus the other enhanced, uh… aspects. But, I’m just glad I get to see you, Candy. I know your bust is, er… new too. Penny said Marcus had you enhanced just after you were married?”

Marcus turned a shade of Paddlewick Red. “I did not—!”

Candy elbowed him before he could unravel the cover story. “Y-yeah, it was part of the, um, trouble girl marriage package. I’m still adjusting.” She tried to sound sincere while hiding the venom of a thousand stitched lies.

“Any tips?” Lennie asked earnestly. “Mine keep knocking over the jam jars in Pantry Organization class.”

Candy sighed. “Compresión bra. Avoid windy balconies. Be aware of your projection. And don’t lean too close to open flames.”

“Got it,” Lennie nodded solemnly.

Behind them, the carriage driver cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon, miss, I'd be happy to carry those in for you. Or anything else you need carried.”

Marcus narrowed his eyes. “We’ll manage. Thank you.”

Lennie smiled. “Wasn’t he nice?”

“Oh, a real prince,” Marcus muttered, already regretting agreeing to host her.

Candy tilted her head. “So… when does the spell wear off, exactly?”

“Oh, two more days,” Lennie chirped. “It’ll wear off by Sunday night. Definitely by Moonday!”

Marcus’s groan was immediate and heartfelt. “Of course it does.”

Candy patted his shoulder with a wry grin. “Looks like we’ll both have some issues this weekend.”

They turned to follow Lennie inside. She paused at the threshold, raised two fingers and spoke the official phrase women did when transferring to an official location or under a different man’s authority; accounted for. With that she was officially under Marcus; then she promptly returned to talking about her upcoming curtsey exams and whether Candy preferred blouses with boning or bust cups.

Marcus leaned over and muttered, “This is gonna be the longest weekend of my life.”

Candy shot back, “Oh, poor you. Hey, how does this dress fit me, by the way?”

The next morning sun poured into the kitchen, glinting off polished pins on the wall and the slightly chipped rim of Marcus’s favorite mug. Candy had cooked to maintain appearances, which meant breakfast was mostly toast that had been burned to different degrees, jam, and a heroic attempt at tea.

Lennie sat perched at the table, practically vibrating with optimism. Her blouse strained like it could burst open at any moment.

“I’m really excited to be here,” she chirped, spreading jam with an intensity that suggested it was part of an exam. “I already passed Tea Ceremony: Level One. Oh! I heard you’re good at that, Candy.”

Candy, who had studied tea mostly only to avoid another gravitea-induced Ultra situation, responded only with. “Uh-huh.”

“And I’m getting better at Walking With Grace! Still a little pigeon-toed when I turn corners, but I’m practicing. Oh! And curtsy class, you said you did that, right?”

“I did,” Candy said. “I... passed.”

“With honors?” Lennie gasped.

“With knees intact,” Candy deadpanned.

Marcus snorted into his cup.

“Oh!” Lennie brightened. “I passed Cooking with a B. My roasted hare still looked a little too surprised, but the instructor said my cream puff placement was emotionally coherent.”

“Was.. that a joke,” Candy asked.

Lennie grinned and nodded. “Yes! If anything he looked more mad than surprised.” Candy snorted, a real genuine laugh. Okay. Lennie had jokes.

“But I really wanted to tell you,” Lennie went on, scooping sugar into her tea until it achieved hummingbird-level potency, “I passed Oral Devotion 101!”

Marcus coughed. Candy dropped her toast and Lennie kept beaming. “My dummy was named Master Gobblesworth!”

Candy blinked. “Your dummy was named what?”

“My practice dummy, for, you know, oral exercises?” Lennie gestured vaguely toward her mouth. “Master Gobblesworth. He was very sweet. Enchanted glass rod and all. I used too much teeth at first, but he said his shaft was reinforced for beginners.”

Marcus very gently set down his fork and picked up his tea like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

“I never scratched him,” Lennie added proudly. “That was the main thing. Smooth, fluid suction. I even got a pin!”

Candy closed her eyes. “Lennie, I—”

“Oh, and Aunt Eleanor said you trained on Sir Cums-a-Lot!”

Marcus looked to the ceiling.

Candy winced. “I… wouldn’t say I trained. There was… an intensive afternoon. He had judgmental eyes.”

Lennie leaned in conspiratorially, knocking her teacup sideways with her enchanted chest. Hot liquid sloshed across the table.

“Oh shoot!” she squeaked, grabbing a napkin.

Candy sighed and passed her a towel. “Projection awareness, Lennie. We talked about this.”

“I know! They just get in the way sometimes.”

Marcus shook his head and took a large bite of jam toast while looking away. Half the liquid had landed on Lennie’s blouse; her white blouse, which was now largely see-through.

“I mean,” Lennie went on, wiping vigorously, “I understand now why we had that posture module last month. I kept leaning forward and knocking over candlesticks. One even lit my neckline on fire. It’s fine now, they said singed cleavage builds character.”

Candy gave Marcus a look that said you owe me for this.

Marcus gave her a look back that said I never said yes to Oral Devotion pin talk.

Lennie leaned in again. Another spoon went flying.

“Marcus,” Candy said, deadpan, “move the condiments. We're entering splash zone protocol.”

Marcus slid the sugar and jam to safety.

Lennie grinned, totally oblivious. “This is so fun. I never get to talk about these things at home. Penny always clams up whenever I mention oral technique. I don’t know why.”

Candy pressed a hand to her temple. “She’s... shy.”

“Yeah, I guess so, but it’s just us!”

Marcus bit his lip so hard it nearly became breakfast, then excused himself to the yard.

That’s when Candy leaned in, a bit more prepared.

“So,” she opened. “You passed oral devotion 101. How long does it take you before your dummy releases his pudding load in your mouth?

“Oh uh, I average fifteen minutes. It was faster the times when I remembered the eye contact and to cup his pudding holders.”

Candy stared at her for a moment, trying to work that out. Finally, she asked, “By pudding holders, do you mean his balls?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, the testicle pudding cartridges. We’ll learn more about squeezing them in Oral Devotion 201 next trimester, but in that class we were just supposed to cup them.”

“Naturally,” Candy deadpanned.

“Actually,” Lennie went on, “I have the portable rod version in my bags. Would you mind watching me practice? You can see if you have any pointers.”

Candy’s stomach turned. Like she wanted to think about blowing Marcus.

“Oh, Lennie, no. I don’t think—”

Then…

“Wait. You want me to watch you practice orally servicing a penis-shaped device?

Lennie nodded earnestly.

“Uh, well, I mean… I guess I could watch you, you know, for a couple rounds.”

Lennie squealed and clapped her hands, bouncing up and down, then grabbed Cany by the wrist and pulled her toward the guest room she was staying in.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She yelled as they ran.

“You’re welcome! But, you owe me one!” Candy shot back as she pumped her legs to keep up with Lennie.