"Oi, get outta my face, ya wanker!"
The screamed insult made the face of the shopkeeper turn beet red in anger, but he dared not try to stop the woman who'd said it. Not even when she snatched a packet of crisps from the counter.
Marla Vick didn't even bother to open her stolen snack, tossing it into a waste bin as so she walked out onto the street. She got her jollies from messing with the shop keepers in this neighborhood, completely unafraid of any retaliation at all.
With the yellow and black mohawk rising up from her head, the 6 ft tall muscular punk lesbian cut an intimidating figure with her well-worn black leather vest festooned with metal spikes on its shoulders and a tattered yellow tank top acted more a bra than a shirt, holding back her firm b-cup tits. Down below, she had on a dark demin skirt over tattered fishnets showed off her thick thighs while her large feet clad in black army boots perfect for arse kicking. There was a jangle of metal as the length of chain that acted as a belt of sorts shifted with each step she took.
Pulling out a pack of cigs from her vest pocket, Marla lit up and took a long drag. The piercings in her lips, nose and ears glittered slightly in the light of her zippo. Pushing the lightweights around was fun, but she was feeling a need for some more...posh sport.
"Time ta crash some toffs and get me sum' propah' jollies."
Tromping over a few blocks, the punk walked down a well-appointed row of houses. Tossing aside the cig as she spied a nice car pulling up to one of the town houses, she pulled on a pair of fingerless leather gloves with more spikes on them.
As a car door swung open onto the curbside, Marla grabbed the top of it and poke her head inside the vehicle. There was one of them banker types, with his Saville Row suit and a semi-shocked expression.
"Oi, guv'nor. Got some pounds fer me today"
Her outreached hand was batted away by the toff banker.
"Absolutely not, you beastly woman."
Marla snarled in anger, but her retort was cut off by the other passenger, a woman who was cloaked in shadows due to the angle of the punk's head..
"Oh do behave, you silly little dyke. You will take you hand off our car and get back to whatever it is your type does to entertain themselves"
The overwhelmingly stern and formal tone of the woman as spoke the dismissive insult hit Marla hard on two levels, making her visibly step back from the car. One of them was the infamous 'were breeder' curse that was now attached to her, waiting for a trigger to change her. The other was a bit more complicated, as Marla had a long hidden and somewhat suppressed desire to be dominated by another woman, a lust she'd never been able to articulate fully, instead trying to be the one in control.
However, no matter how suppressed it was, that flare of arousal was enough for the curse to begin its work...
====
Marla regained her composure and was about to charge at the car again. But as she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window, she stopped in mid-step. It was not a proud punk there, but a posh-looking woman with a dark blue overcoat, over which peeked the stiff collar of a white blouse.
"Tsk, tsk. Is that any way for a proper lady to behave?"
The judgemental question came with a wag of a finger enclosed in a thin brown leather glove. As Marla tried to blink the vision away, she saw another identical image giving the side-eye from the glass of another car. Not sure what was going on, the confused punk stomped off away from her intended prey.
The annoyance now gone, the couple inside the stylish car stepped out and walked up the steps to their townhouse.
====
Moving away from that...weirdness, Marla headed back towards the row of the shops she'd been terrorizing earlier. However, as she came up to the first one, she was horrified to see that posh bint reflected in the window front. This time, her red lips were curled in a frown.
"And just what were you thinking of doing here, Miss Vick? More beastly and ghastly behavior perhaps?"
The punk dyke roared in anger, but the reflection merely shook her head in a disappointed manner.
"Fuck dis shite!"
Marla turned away from the store, which itself was somehow changing. Its previously common appearance was giving away to a more high end one. No longer just another convenience store, it was becoming a purveyor of fine sweets.
====
As she fled from her once safe haven for raising some trouble, Marla was starting to see that other woman in every reflected surface, either giving a bit of scathing commentary or a harshly judgmental smirk. It was driving her barmy, as she didn't understand that this was the power of the curse wearing down her mental resistance to the heterosexual she was going to become.
"I've got to get away from her..."
Already, it had begun to sand away the rough and course edges of the punk's personality. Her language had shifted subtly to something more dignified, if not fully refined. Likewise, her attraction to her own sex was dropping each time she encountered the reflection of her future.
Finally, unable to take it anymore, Marla fled for refuge in a nearby park, holing up in a stall in a woman's public restroom.
====
It was quiet inside the restroom. No one else was inside, so all Marla heard was her own labored breathing. Was she going mad? Why was this happening to her?
She failed to notice another change that had be subtly wrought upon her. Her prized muscles had been shrinking, not quite vanishing completely but definitely becoming much more ladylike in their tone and texture. This was coupled with the shaving of several inches of height, bringing her below six feet. The overall effect left her punk clothes hanging more than a little lose from her reduced frame.
Finally, Marla was able to pull on a reserve of courage, a bit of the old lesbian punk that was holding on to resist this transition and step out of the stall. She stomped defiantly towards the large mirror that hung above a row of sinks in the restroom, determined to confront this...reflection!
Surprisingly, the posh lady was nowhere to be seen. Only Marla's own reflection, and it was a poor sight. She now saw the changes to her body, again not understanding what was going on.
'Isn't obvious, Miss Vick?'
That voice made her shudder. It was her tormentor, but where was she? Marle spun around looking for her, not seeing as she did so, a change came over her rugged army boots. The black leather was giving way to deep red, the round toes narrowing to closer hug the now smaller feet inside them. From the rear of thinning rubber soles, sturdy red heels pushed out, raising the developing shoes into a distinct arch.
This in turn caused a ripple and suddenly, there came a correction to the punk's posture. She now stood up straighter, pushing out her chest and ass a bit more in the process. But Marla was too focused on the mirror to see this shift.
"Who are you?"
'I though that it was fairly obvious, Miss Vick.'
"No, it bloody well isn't!"
'Well, it's simple. I am you. A better you. A hetter you.'
"W..w..wank off you posh b..b..itch! I'm punk through and through!"
Somehow Marla getting out those words seemed like a relief, making her feel almost like herself again. Maybe she could...
'Language, my dear. Tsk, tsk'
That rebuke from the woman claiming to be her shouldn't have felt as bad as it did. The admonishment seemed to trigger another change in the weakening lesbian, for her ripped fishnets started to mend themselves. They were also growing more opaque as the black spread out across her now thinning legs, concealing the skin from sight.
But that was not all that was happening on her lower body, as her denim skirt started to rustle and shift in place. With each movement, it crawled down her now curvy thighs until it reached a point below her knees. In the process, the denim had given way to wool, but retained its dark blue color.
Marla had looked down as the sound of her chain belt falling away to the floor, it being replaced by a thin one made of red leather that cinched tight, causing her waist to contract into a hour-glass shape. The sight of her changing clothes was another blow to her dwindling resistance.
The sudden tugging coming from her tank top caused her to try and grip it. Oddly, her hands refused to respond as they were currently being encased by her formerly fingerless gloves, whose now brown leather was crunching them into a far more delicate shape. Their metal spikes were nowhere to be seen
"No...no...NO!"
'Tish-tosh, Marla. They were hardly appropriate attire with those nasty points.'
Unrestrained, the tank top was being pulled downwards, covering up a tummy that now had the tone of a dancer instead of a weight-lifter, the yellow giving way to a pure white. Down the front, a row of small pearl buttons appeared just as the tail of the forming blouse tucked itself into her skirt.
Up at the shoulders, more white cotton flowed outwards, some down her arms, more towards her neck. Finely pressed sleeves wrapped around her arms, pushing out the last of the unneeded mass towards her chest as they buttoned themselves at her wrists with thicker buttons.
The pressure in her chest was growing as her breast began to swell up into a proud set of c-cups that pressed tightly against her blouse. Thankfully, a tasteful bra of white lace formed to support them, as her once wide back had lost muscle to create the impressive rack.
Returning to the top of the blouse, a wide and high collar had formed around her neck, compressing it into a more slender shape that would not longer be able to speak vulgar language. Under this collar, a bit of red cloth slid into place to tie itself into a bow.
=====
Meanwhile outside of the restroom, the park itself had begun to change. Piles of litter that had cluttered the paths vanished as old battered benches were reverting to a more pristine form. Damaged lamps repaired themselves, brown grass turned green and dead trees sprung back to life with a flourish of leaves. Around the edges of the park, the chain link fence warped and twisted itself into an classic style of wrought iron supported by dark red brickwork rising up from the ground. Asphalt paths became inlaid with similar bricks. Finally, as the entrances to the park, heavy gates appeared over which was a sign declaring this place to be Travers Park...
=====
Marla was still now looking at the almost comical figure she cut in the mirror, with her mohawke, and her still punked out leather vest now resting over the body and clothes of a posh lady. But she wasn't quite herself as the moment, her mind being overwhelmed by waves of etiquette training.
She was momentarily roused out of this stupor by the pull being exerted on her vest. Woolen sleeves that matched her skirt sprouted from its shoulders, sliding downwards. Metal spikes snapped off from the top to become wide brown buttons at the wrists before the leather started to break apart, revealing the rest of the elegant overcoat that had formed underneath. These scrapes of leather joined the
forgotten chain belt on the floor.
'Now, we simply must fix our hair. It is a dreadful mess, and hardly proper for one such as ourself now.'
Marla numbly nodded, her resistance almost completely sapped. She didn't even react as her mohawk started to fold back down over her head, the shaved sides growing in dark brown which began to wash out the black and yellow dye. The gel that once held her hair rigid vanished, allowing it flow gently past her shoulders. But then an unseen hand swept it up and back into a stylish bun.
Now her facial piercings began to vanish with little pops, leaving her nose free to crunch down smaller, and allowed her thin lips to plump up with a healthy redness. Her eyebrows grew more delicate, arching slightly over eyes that shifted from a listless brown to a glittering green. Her sallow and sunken cheeks rose up and gained a healthy sheen. Nicotine stained teeth cleaned themselves, shining brightly now.
"Now, we're almost there. Only a few more steps.."
The airy voice that had been her judge was now coming out of the lips of the transformed Marla. The punk was fading faster now, as her new self began to settled into place. Gone was Miss Vick, and in her place was a perfectly posh lady named Maisie Vickers.
"Hmm...."
Maisie contemplated her lovely reflection, which also showed that the once dingy bathroom had also been changing. New tiles and shiny faucets reflected the overheard soft yellow light that came from new fixtures hanging from the ceiling.
"Ah, my hat."
Reaching down, Maisie put her hand into the thick black leather valise that now sat on the floor. It had formed itself from the scraps of the former punk's leather vest. She withdrew a fine hat adorned with a single red rose, and placed it atop her head. A slight adjustment to tilt its brim righward brought a appreciative nod from her reflection.
"Posh as always. But I simply must be off, appointments to keep after all."
Maisie turned to leave, picking up her bag. But her reflection lingered in the mirror, coughing slightly to get her attention.
"Ahem, forgetting something?"
"Oh, of course. How could I forget."
The posh heterosexual grabbed the closed black umbrella that had once been a chain belt from where it hung on the sink. Her reflection gave her a wink.
"Cheeky."
=====
Stepping out into the park, Maise Vickers began walking back towards a certain townhouse. Stepping up the stairs, her gloved finger reached out to ring the bell. When a servant answered the door, she smiled widely.
"Are the Goodenoughs home yet?"