Cameron To Candy

The springs steamed like a fairy tale cauldron, fragrant with mineral salts and obedience-inspiring herbs. Candy tugged at her modest one-piece as she ushered Lennie into the changing grotto. Candy had her swimsuit on under her clothes, but Lennie…

“You sure about this?” Candy asked.

Lennie, clutching her top, attempting to stretch if further as it clung snuggly around her enhanced bosoms, shrugged helplessly. “This will do. I mean, it’s just for a couple of hours.”

“Well,” Candy said dryly, “there’s no modesty rule here. Half the women bathe topless. Just… brace for splashback.”

They emerged from the grotto into the warm pool where the usual suspects were already lounging.

Alyssa, sleek and composed, was reading a floating scroll while sipping cucumber water out of a champagne flute.

Vivian, radiant and wicked as ever, grinned while drifting upside down in the water, blonde hair fanned out like a sunburst.

Mona, maternal and mellow, had set up a little tray of sliced apples on a floating dish "just in case someone got peckish."

And Marilyn, shimmering in a jewel-toned wrap that probably would violate six ministry modesty regulations if it were worn anywhere but the women’s bathhouse, was painting her nails with heat-sensitive polish and saying things like “being a woman is a full-time performance.”

“Ladies,” Candy said, walking in with a plastered smile. "What are you all doing here? We usually meet on Moonday."

"Most of us have other engagements, so we moved it up. Candy darling, didn't you get the message?" Mona asked.

"Uh, no. I must have missed it. But I guess it's worked out. Oh, uh, I'd like you all to meet Lennie, she is my cousin-in-law. Lennie Spankswell, meet my bathhouse group.”

Lennie gave a perky wave. “Hi! It’s such an honor to meet you all! I’ve heard so much!”

And then she stepped into the pool… and her boobs immediately floated to the surface like twin enchanted pontoons. Nobody said anything. Not a word. The women were Paddlewickian. They’d trained for this. You could drop a noble’s daughter into a vat of pudding and they'd still smile, curtsy, and offer her tea. Unless they were friends, in which case a tremendous amount of teasing would occur as soon as the men weren’t around.

Lennie, oblivious, waded in and sat between Candy and Vivian, her chest bobbing like decorative buoys. “Thank you for having me! This is my first time out since… well, starting the academy, I think.”

Candy cleared her throat. “If anyone’s wondering, yes, they’re temporary. She’s in the Academy. It’s themed weeks.”

“Ohhh,” said Marilyn, with instant recognition. “I remember those days.”

“I’ve heard of those,” Alyssa said. “You’re on… Breast Augmentation Week, I assume?”

Lennie nodded. “They said it builds empathy for future body modifications. And posture. But it’s honestly… a lot.”

Vivian stared openly. “Are they… sensitive?”

“Oh, very,” Lennie said. “When I bump into things, I swear my nipples extend so much I could cut glass!” Candy face-palmed. “And, like… do you see my areoles? They’re literally the size of saucers!”

Vivian sat up. Marilyn leaned in, breathy as ever. Sure enough, her areolas were only about half contained in her tiny top. “Oh darling. They really are.”

“What happens if you poke one?” Vivian asked.

“I don’t know,” Lennie blinked. “Wanna try?”

Vivian didn’t need a second invitation. She flicked one gently with her finger.

Boing.

Lennie gasped. Her nipple instantly stiffened, projecting like it was trying to win an architecture contest.

“Sweet threadcraft!” Mona exclaimed. “You could cut glass with those things!”

Meanwhile, Alyssa gently turned her scroll exactly 45 degrees to block her view. Mona offered Lennie a robe. Candy buried herself halfway underwater.

“Okay,” Candy muttered. “So that happened.”

“You know I had a few breast augmentation weeks in the acadeomy myself,” Marilyn revealed. “And it turns out it did help prepare me for my future husbands tastes,” she conclude sticking her chest out to highlight her own augmented melons.

“Oh, good to know!” Lennie cried, eyeing Marilyn’s magnificent milk makers.

Trying to change the subject, Mona asked brightly, “Lennie, dear, your last name was Spankswell?”

Lennie perked up, completely unaware she was still reflecting light off a rock wall. “Yes!"

“Any relation to Penny Spanskwell? She’s also Candy’s cousin if I recall.”

“Yes, Penny’s my big sister!”

“Oh!” Marilyn gasped. “Penny Spankswell?! From the Gilded Gaggle?” Everyone suddenly leaned in.

Vivian’s eyes sparkled. “Did you see the Paprika Pig episode?”

Marilyn fanned herself. “Lady Panthera calling in with that fashion duel? I thought I was going to die.”

“Oh, and the one in Drapeville,” said Mona. “The Banshee girl who joined as a foreign correspondent? What was her name?”

“Moana Keenshaw,” Alyssa said smoothly. “Her take on spectral inheritance laws was surprisingly nuanced.”

Lennie beamed. “Penny says she had trouble following that one, but loved her makeup!”

Marilyn giggled. “I love your sister. She keeps everything light.”

“It is rather, um, bold, though. Having an undead girl on the show,” Mona interjected.

“Yeah,” Lennie agreed. “Father actually said it was good she’s just a foreign correspondent. He said if she was a regular in the recording studio he might make Penny come home. We’re not allowed to fraternise with the undead after all.”

This was met with mixed reactions, but more nods and general agreement than not. Paddlewick drilled into its citizens that other species were not to be trusted. Demons were to be killed on sight, fey reported immediately, and monsters handled with care, then killed.

For half a second, Candy was back there; the forest outside Drapeville. The clearing flashed in her mind. He, Cameron, charging in, sword drawn. The scream was blood-curdling, not a death keen, it had just been fear. It was the terrified look on the young banshee girl's face, the pain in her eyes as her and her friend clutched each other upon seeing Cameron charging at them, that would haunt Candy forever. It was one of her deepest regrets.

“Banshees aren’t undead.” Candy corrected, almost absent-mindedly.

"Sorry, come again?"

“They’re living beings. They reproduce naturally. They’ve never died and come back… well, unless their ghosts, I guess. Banshee ghosts? Hmmm, could be a thing. Eh," she shook her head. "The point is they're flesh and blood beings. They feel pain, physical and emotional, just like you or me.”

“What? Why do they live in ‘The City of the Dead’ then?” Mona asked incredulously.

“It’s just a name. Yeah, there's ghosts, poltergeists, undead-zombies and wraiths, but there’s normal stichari, ghouls, living-zombies, boogy persons and all that who aren’t dead but live there too. Most in there have a connection to the spectral energy fields; that’s the common factor, not death.”

“Candy’s explanation is accurate,” Alyssa concurred.

"Wait, so there are... boy banshees?"

"I think they're called banhees." Alyssa supplied.

“Huh,” Vivian entered into the conversation. “Well, I don’t care what her life status is, I think she’s cute! That floppy reporter's hat she wears, literally with the word "press" sewn on! ADORABLE!”

“Her rack’s not bad either,” Candy added, having drifted back to the present, and the two of them laughed to the general bemusement of the others.

“I hear there is talk about her getting a sponsor deal to sell ‘banshee black’ eyeliner in Cleavendale,” Merlyn added, always in the know about the latest fashions anywhere in case they might come in handy.

“I’m sure that would prove quite lucrative,” said Alyssa.

And so the conversation went, jumping from new shows to the latest hair trends to the newest suitor gossip. Vivian continued to dodge men her dad was introducing her to, Alyssa continued to drive men away as none liked feeling stupid next to her and her brother, so far, had refused to allow any to stifle her mind. And Lennie had a small predicament of trying to turn a boy down when his father had business dealings with her own. All the ladies agreed that it was tricky.

“I mean, he’s nice enough, but I don’t think I have feelings for him. And honestly I’m only finishing my first year at the academy! Usually families don’t entertain suitors untill the third,” Lennie lamented.

“Maybe your father can have him do one of the challenges,” offered Mona. “Axe throwing or the Ministry Ring Run, perhaps. You know how these things go. He’ll likely lose but save face from you having to turn him down outright.”

“Indeed,” Alyssa agreed. “My brother has gone that route many times. Once, he even left it to me via a chess match. I did not particularly desire the man, and yes, I defeated him very quickly," she explained with a thin, proud smirk. This was a long standing tradition in Paddlewick. Fathers or other male guardians who did not want to grant courting or permission to marry but, for whatever reason, didn't feel they could say no outright, would test the suitor's worth through traditional challenges. If the man failed, it wasn't the father's fault; it just meant the man simply wasn't right for the woman.

Marilyn, who had been lounging with the lazy elegance of a woman born to receive gossip and improve it, turned back toward Lennie with renewed interest.

“Well,” she purred, “if we’re speaking of institutions and traditions, tell me something. I haven’t set foot in the Academy in fifteen years. Is Matron Tawse Pell still there?”

Lennie lit up at once. “Oh, yes. She’s still there.”

Marilyn pressed a hand to her chest. “Thank the gods.”

“And she’s still terrifying,” Lennie added helpfully. “Her wrist snaps like a trapfin in spring, and she can smack both rulers together so loud half the room jumps.”

Vivian laughed.

“She does that thing where she just looks at you over the tops of her spectacles,” Lennie went on, already committed now, “and then she taps one ruler into her palm and says, ‘Again,’ like she’s personally offended by your posture.”

Marilyn gave a pleased little sigh. “Excellent. Sounds like she’s only firmed with age. Like a fine cheese.”

Mona covered a smile with her hand.

Candy let out a quiet breath. “I don't think anyone describes cheese that way.”

“They do in the right circles,” Marilyn said.

Vivian drifted closer, idly swishing the water with one hand. “Do they tell you what the next theme week is ahead of time?”

“Not always,” Lennie said. “Sometimes they do, but sometimes there are just question marks on the schedule and we don’t find out until morning. It depends on the instructors, I think. They like surprise as part of the teaching method.”

“Any idea what’s next?” Candy asked.

Lennie nodded earnestly. “We haven’t done dick week yet, so that could be coming.”

Marilyn made a soft, knowing sound. “Ah. Yes. I remember that.”

Candy turned toward her. “I’m sorry. You remember what?”

Lennie flushed at once. “Oh. Sorry. That’s just what some of the girls call it. It’s crude. I mean penis week.”

Candy narrowed her eyes. “That does not answer the spirit of what I was asking.”

Mona leaned in with patient warmth. “Lennie, dear, I think what Candy means is, what exactly does that week involve?”

Lennie brightened again, relieved to be back on practical ground. “Oh. Well. Temporary enhancement charms, usually. So we can better understand the gravitas of the burden men carry between their legs, and the how it affects them.”

For a second, the pool went strangely quiet. Then Vivian broke first. She slapped the water lightly with one hand and laughed so hard she had to lean against the pool’s edge.

Marilyn’s mouth fell open in delighted recognition. “Oh, gods. Yes. That week.”

Mona looked from one woman to the next. “Wait. You did that?”

Marilyn lifted one shoulder, entirely unashamed. “Well, yes, I did. It was very educational, one might say.”

Candy stared at her. “Did you just say you grew a dick as casually like you’d taken a calligraphy seminar?”

Marilyn smiled lazily. “I am academy trained honey. Also technically they’re not real. I don’t understand what that means mind you; they sure felt real. It’s a magic thing.”

Alyssa pinched the bridge of her nose for one controlled second, as if the whole kingdom had once again embarrassed itself in front of her personally.

Candy looked back at Lennie. “And the official explanation is really that they do this so you can understand men better?”

“Yes,” Lennie said. “Also to promote empathy.”

Vivian laughed harder.

“That’s redundant.” Alyssa pointed out.

Lennie, perhaps sensing she was losing the room for reasons she did not fully understand, tried again. “Well, I’m told some women find it a rather enlightening experience.”

That sent Vivian into another fit. Even Mona had to duck her face into her shoulder.

Candy leaned back into the water and closed her eyes briefly. “Of course they do.”

“It’s actually quite useful,” Marilyn said, now fully committed to being no help at all. “You learn very quickly that some garments are no longer your friends.”

Lennie nodded with bright seriousness. “That’s true. I’ve heard about that. Oh, also my roommate's older sister said her balls ached during it when she thought about this boy she liked. I think they called it something. Orange balls, maybe?”

"Blue balls," Candy corrected automatically.

"Yeah, that's it!"

Candy opened her eyes again and stared at the steam curling off the surface of the water. The others kept talking after that. And through it all, the conversation kept bobbing along as if nothing particularly strange had happened. But Candy drifted in thought. There was a temporary spell, that was all it was supposed to be, for instructive, maybe novel purposes. Still, the thought lodged itself in Candy’s mind.

If Paddlewick had a spell that could give a woman a penis for a week, then in theory, it could grow a shrunken one back. Maybe even start the blood flowing down there again.

Her stomach tightened.

Bigger would be harder to hide, and yet, it’d be a step toward becoming a man-shaped man again. But then, if that had any chance of working the mages probably would have tried it. Damn it!

Vivian let out another burst of laughter beside her, and Marilyn said something breathless and scandalised that made Mona protest on principle and smile anyway. Across from her, Lennie was now talking innocently about Academy stair safety, and Candy, staring into the drifting water, found herself noting this away for her next trip to High Mage Eldrin.