Cameron To Candy

Marcus needed some peace. Thankfully, Candy had gone to the women’s bathhouse with Lennie. He had not asked for much, just his chair, a cup of tea, and perhaps twenty uninterrupted minutes in which no one mentioned marital technique, enchanted pudding, breast growth spells, or the phrase “next trimester's curriculum.”

Unfortunately, this was Paddlewick, and that just wasn’t in the cards for him.

He sank into the parlor chair, rubbed both hands over his face, and flicked the magic mirror to the news channel. Marcus liked staying abreast of recent events. A polished announcer appeared behind a desk, his hair arranged with the kind of precision usually reserved for military formations.

“Tonight on the Civic Scry, the so-called Melon Felons have struck again in Cleavendale Capital. A murder of fey followed them in, causing three street closures, five lost oxen, twenty-three unwanted body morphings….”

“Damn,” Marcus thought. “They went big this time.”

“Paddlewick has offered aid to Cleavendale authorities, agreeing to imprison the sisters for the duration of their sentence, behind the anti-magic field.”

Marcus stared at the screen.

“Good,” he muttered. “Felons should never get out of their sentencing. The fairies can’t save them here.”

The announcer continued. “In other news, the ministry is offering three silver to anyone who can tell the whereabouts of the oral devotion dummy Sir Gaggingham, who went missing a month ago from the Petalik Wives Academy.

And of course, the Ministry of Domestic Harmony has issued a reminder that Queenuary remains a high-volume season for approved feminine enhancement procedures, and husbands are encouraged to review all augmentation permits before signing.”

Marcus lowered his tea. The announcer smiled.

“And now, a word from our sponsors.”

The mirror brightened. Harp music swelled while pink mist rolled across the glass. A woman in a sparkling gown that highlighted an overly large and perky rack appeared on screen, standing before a shopfront shaped like a magic wand. There was no way that was real, was there? Marcus wondered.

“Ladies,” she purred, “are you tired of drooping assets?”

Marcus closed his eyes. “Gods no.”

“Does your husband look at you and sigh with the gentle disappointment of a man who expected more?”

Marcus opened his eyes again, horrified, and stared at the mirror.

“Do you wish you had more to show off in front?”

“For gods’ sake,” Marcus cried, sitting up. “Who approved this?”

The image shifted to a smiling wizard in lavender robes, white beard flowing to his knees, hands raised beside a glowing sign.

HARRY BUSTWAND’S MARVELOUS MAMMARY EMPORIUM

Because Modesty Should Still Have Volume.

Marcus stared at the words. “Harry Bustwand,” he said flatly. “Of course.”

The wizard winked. A sparkle burst from the tip of his wand.

“Come on down to Harry Bustwand’s, where every wife receives a respectful consultation, a Ministry-approved modesty screen, and a full husband-satisfaction projection before any spellwork begins.”

A tiny disclaimer zipped across the bottom of the mirror.

Results may vary. Side effects include imbalance, blouse strain, increased hallway collisions, enhanced posture consciousness, unexpected lactation during Queenuary, and being mistaken for a woman from Bellefemme.

Marcus leaned forward.

“Unexpected what?”

The commercial continued mercilessly.

“Try our popular Academy Practice Package, perfect for maidens preparing for advanced wifehood classes.”

Lennie’s face flashed on screen. Marcus dropped his tea. It was not the actual Lennie, thank the gods, but an actress who looked close enough to make his soul briefly leave his body and file for foreign citizenship. The actress turned sideways, misjudged her new dimensions, and knocked a vase off a table with her chest. A cheerful chime sounded.

“That’s right,” said the narrator. “Our spellwork helps young ladies learn grace before marriage, because if she can’t navigate a breakfast table, how will she navigate a husband?”

Marcus pointed at the mirror. “That’s the selling point? Really?” He gawked and desperately pressed the crystal remote. Nothing happened. “No, no, no,” Marcus muttered, tapping it. “Change. Change! I’ll watch grain prices. I’ll watch a four-hour debate on municipal chimney soot! I’ll watch the Rodday youth paddleball finals for Padethors sake!”

The commercial got louder.

“And this week only, ask about our Husband’s Delight Discount. Buy one enhancement, receive a complimentary support corset, two blouse-expansion coupons, and a free consultation gift certificate.”

Marcus stood. “This is not my day!”

The wizard leaned toward the screen.

“And remember, gentlemen, a confident wife is a compliant wife.”

Marcus froze. That line sat wrong. He looked toward the hallway, where Candy had left earlier with her bathhouse bag and a smirk at his expense. If her friends saw this commercial and started asking about her boobs again she might be pissed, even though she'd been the one to accidentally reveal her boobs were magically enhanced and then blamed him for it. He’d hope they’d never see it.

The commercial shifted again. The wizard leaned toward the screen with a smile polished enough to freeze the hinges of an old creaky door.

“But don’t take it from us,” the narrator said warmly. “Take it from him!”

A smiling husband appeared on screen beside a little glowing caption.

NOT AN ACTOR. REAL TESTIMONY.

The man clasped his hands in front of him.

“Honestly, my wife’s turned out great. Used to be, when I referred to her as being a handful, it was a bad thing, but now…”

Marcus stood.

“Nope.”

The commercial continued. A sparkle burst across the mirror. “Harry’s Bustwand’s Marvelous Mammary Emporium. Because your wife’s future should be fully supported.”

Marcus crossed the room, placed his palm flat against the magic mirror, and muttered the shortest household shutdown charm he knew.

“Glass go black. Give silence back.”

The mirror snapped dark. Marcus stood there for a moment with his hand still on the glass, breathing through his nose like a man who'd been one step away from breaking the mirror to escape. He was right to have worried, as a moment later Candy stepped into the parlor looking warm, damp-haired, and suspiciously relaxed in the way she only managed after the bathhouse had soaked some of the rage out of her bones. Lennie came in just behind her, cheeks pink, hair slightly damp, and looking far too cheerful for someone who had spent the morning knocking things over with her chest.

“Hi, cousin!” Lennie said brightly. “We’re back. It was really fun. I didn’t even knock anything over at the bathhouse.”

Candy glanced sideways at her.

Lennie added, “Well, nothing important.”

Marcus looked at both of them from his chair. He had the remote crystal still in one hand, his tea cooling on the side table, and the expression of a man who definitely just did something suspicious.

Candy stopped walking. “You look weird.”

“I don’t look weird,” Marcus said hurriedly.

“You definitely look flustered.”

“No I don’t.”

“Your face is red.”

“No it’s not.”

“I can clearly see it!”

“No you can’t.”

“Oh for-” Candy threw her hands in the air exasperated.

Lennie leaned closer to Candy and whispered, “He does look flustered.”

“Lennie!” Marcus cried.

“Oh, sorry cousin! You’re in charge. You’re right, you’re not red, you… uh, have really good blood circulation?” She’d tried, bless her heart, but she couldn’t help her voice going up at the end there.

Candy crossed her arms. “What happened?”

Marcus stood, set the remote crystal down, and adjusted his sleeves with unnecessary dignity.

“Nothing. Just a dumb commercial,” he answered. “Just, do yourself a favor and ignore it if you ever hear Bustwands come up.”

Candy watched him begin toward the hall. “Where are you going now?”

“I’m going to chop some wood.”

“You chopped wood yesterday.”

“And I’m going to chop more now!” Marcus yelled as he left the room.

He walked out before either of them could ask another question. The two women stood in the parlor for a moment, listening to his boots fade toward the back door.

Lennie tilted her head. “Does he always chop wood when he’s upset?”

Candy sighed. “Yes. Yes he does.”

The back door opened and shut. A few seconds later, the first axe strike landed. Candy looked at the dark magic mirror. Then she looked at Lennie.

“What exactly is Bustwand’s?”

Lennie brightened. “Oh, I think the girls at the Academy mentioned that place. It’s, oh, what was it? I think, for magic body modification. Yeah. I think noses and bosoms are their most common spells.”

Candy cocked an eyebrow and slowly turned toward her. In the background, the sound of the axe came again, louder this time.

Lennie walked to the back window and was peering out. There was a long wall of stacked firewood. A very long wall of it. Candy walked up and followed her gaze.

"Oh, uh, yeah. It's been a rough couple of months," she said sheepishly.

While Marcus was out chopping wood and Candy was watching a Gilded Gaggle episode with Lennie, a letter slipped into their mailbox. It arrived in a plain, unlabeled envelope. It was the kind the Ministry used when they didn’t want anyone other than the intended recipients, who happened to see it, to know it was from them.