The doorbell rang, and Laura, still stuck in her devil-girl persona thanks to Derek's carelessness, fidgeted with her clothes. She was wearing a dark blouse and a black skirt that came down to just above her knees. She would have rather worn pants, but that would have meant cutting a hole in the rear for her tail. So instead, she wore the skirt—no panties—and let her tail hang loose. Its barbed tip hung a foot below the skirt's hem, brushing her long red legs as she walked.
The doorbell rang again, and she called out, “I’m coming!” She ran a hand through her hair, then grabbed her horns and wiggled, one last attempt to get the wig off her head. But it didn’t budge, and she sighed. She rubbed her hands- smooth and red, with dark fingernails- then reached for the doorknob. “You have to promise not to freak out, all right?” she called.
"Freak out? Why would I freak out?” came Angela’s voice from the other side of the door.
Before Laura could reply, Angela opened the door from the other side and stepped in, bringing the two women face to face.
Laura hadn’t seen her in almost two years, but Angela hadn’t changed at all. Her hair was dyed the same shade of electric blue, and she wore the same sort of ratty old clothes she always had, giving the impression that her outfit had been completely assembled at Goodwill. She knew Angela was well off, thanks to her parents, but you’d never be able to tell by looking at her—except on a night out, anyway. Then she dressed to kill.
Angela raised a dark blue eyebrow and crossed her arms. “I could be wrong, Sweetie, but I’m pretty sure Halloween was last week.”
Laura groaned and rolled her eyes. “I know that. That’s why I called you over. Something, well, weird happened.”
Over the next five minutes, Laura explained the wig to her, and Angela's eyebrow raised higher and higher. As she explained what happened with Derek the previous night, Angela started chuckling. By the end of Laura's story, Angela was leaning against the wall for support, her whole body shaking as she crossed an arm over her chest and wiped a tear away from her eye. "Oh, my God, Laura," she chuckled, "that is the funniest thing I've ever heard. Seriously."
Laura waved her arms in front of Angela's face. "Damn it, this isn't a costume! And my skin isn't painted. Feel it."
Angela took hold of her arm with one hand, and ran her fingers lightly up her arm with the other. Her touch was electric. Laura shivered involuntarily, and Angela smiled. "It feels as good as it always did, Laura. Maybe even better." She smiled. "Did you invite me over here to put the moves on me?"
"That was years ago," Laura pulled her arm away. "I'm dating Derek now, you know that."
Angela sniffed. "I never did think he was good for you. I mean, look at this place. It's a mess. Clothing strewn everywhere…" She sniffed the air. "I can almost smell how much fun you guys had last night."
Laura stuck out her tongue. "Now you're just teasing me. But I'm telling you," she pointed at her head, "this wig is magical."
"I admit it looks awesome," said Angela, running her eyes up and down Laura's sexy red visage, "but you really expect me to buy 'magic'? Why'd you invite me over here, really?" A look of concern crossed her face. "Are you feeling all right?"
Laura threw her arms up in the air. "Ugh! Except for this damn wig, I'm feeling fine!" She grabbed Angela's hand, and led her into the bathroom. "Stay here. I'll be right back."
Then she disappeared into the bedroom, and came back a moment later carrying a blonde wig. "Here," she said to Angela. "Put this on."
Angela looked at it oddly, then smiled. "You're really going all in with this roleplay, aren't you?" Well, she winked, "all right, honey, I'll play along…"
Angela slipped the wig over her hair, and gasped as the transformation started. Immediately she shrank down a few inches, and her breasts grew. Her ragged clothing seemed to shimmer, until it was replaced by a flowing white dress that fell off her shoulder and almost to the ground. She put a hand to her face as it grew slightly rounder, and her lips became plump and red, and her eyelashes lengthened. A moment later, a perfect duplicate of Marilyn Monroe, at the height of her 1950s sexiness, was staring out from the mirror.
"Holy cow," Angela whispered breathlessly as she put a dainty, manicured hand to her throat. "That’s the most amazing thing I've ever seen." Even her voice seemed to have grown sexier.
She stared at herself in the mirror, and then bent over, her butt silhouetted by the dress as she kissed her reflection, leaving a faint smudge of lipstick on the glass. Then she turned to Laura, fingering her long blonde hair. "Where did you say you got these wigs, honey?"
"A little store a few miles away," said Laura. "Just recently came to town."
Angela's eyes widened. "You have got to show me this place."
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They drove to the tiny strip mall, Angela still wearing the Marilyn Monroe wig, squeezing her breasts between her arms and generally making a show of herself all the way to the store, winking at drivers and eliciting as many car honks-- and wolf whistles from pedestrians-- as she could. Laura laughed at Angela's antics; she had forgotten how high-energy her friend used to be. Her cheerfulness had Laura feeling better about her own predicament, too. She smiled, running her tongue over the short fangs that her canine teeth had turned into, and spanked Angela's ass when she leaned out the car window too far.
Angela leaned back into the car, putting on her best pouty face. "Ow. What was that for?"
"Your seatbelt's not fastened," said Laura. "What do you want to do, get us pulled over?"
Angela ran a hand through her platinum blonde hair and grinned. "Like any police officer could resist my charms."
"You're a bad girl," Laura grinned, clicking her fingernails against the steering wheel. "I might have to punish you later."
Angela made a *tsk* noise. "It's a sad day when the wholesome, all-American movie star has to outdevil the succubus. Not that I'd say 'no' to the punishment, mind you…"
They pulled into the lot, and Laura found the store—still sitting there, still with seemingly no other customers. She had half-expected the store to close up and disappear by Halloween, but so far it hadn't.
"You won't be able to try on any other wigs without taking that off," Laura said. "You might as well leave it in the car."
Angela pulled down the sunvisor and made a pouty face in the mirror one last time, then with a sigh of regret took off the wig. Her body shifted, growing taller, her clothes turning back to normal, her face growing longer, and her hair restored to its usual electric blue. Her lip piercing reappeared, and she ran her tongue over the metal ring. "Ah, well," she said. "Marilyn Monroe is fun in a sort of classical music sense, but I want something crazier."
Laura chuckled as she got out of the car and stood up, taking a moment to remember that she was walking on hooves rather than feet—she wobbled for a moment, then walked toward the door.
The bell over the door jingled as they walked in, and Angela marveled at the racks of wigs that lined the wall. "Holy cow," she whispered. "Are they all magical?"
"As far as I know," said Laura.
A few moments later, the old shopkeeper came out from the back and greeted them. He was plucking some stray hairs off his hands, and Laura idly wondered if he was making new ones back there. "Good afternoon, ladies," he smiled. "Nice to see you again, Miss," he nodded at Laura. "Looking for something in particular?"
Laura shook her head. "Just showing my friend the store."
"Ah," the shopkeeper smiled, "always appreciate referrals. Not many people seem to find their way in here, for some reason." He shrugged. Laura suspected there was more to that than he was letting on.
Angela was already looking at a wig. It was blonde, with a hat sewn right into the hair that looked like a strip of black and white cloth.
Angela slipped the wig on over her head, and her body shifted—her legs lengthened, and her shoes turned into tall black stilettos. Her jeans thinned and morphed into sheer black stockings. The milky flesh of her cleavage ballooned outward, two melon-sized globes threatening to burst from a frilly, low-cut top, and at her waist was a miniskirt which barely covered her ass and crotch.
Angela put a hand to her mouth. "Oh, my," she said softly, in a voice that was distinctly tinged with a French accent. She was the sexiest French maid Laura had ever seen, and the fact that Laura could still recognize Angela's wild blue eyes and cheerful expression set amidst all that extra sexiness—she found herself getting more than a little turned on. She wrapped her tail around her leg, squeezing a bit to try to take her mind off that.
Angela walked carefully over to the mirror in her new seven-inch heels, swaying her hips as she moved, and ran her hands up and down her perfect hourglass frame. "My, this is certainly…" she smiled. "Interesting." She turned to Laura. "Mistress?" She sashayed back over to Laura, and Laura smiled, squeezing her tail tighter around her leg. "Is there anything I can do for you, Mistress?"
Laura licked her lips; she thought she had put her feelings for Angela behind, but all those thoughts were being ignited again. She had never told Derek she was bisexual—she didn't want him bugging her for a threesome, for one thing—but with Angela in front of her now, and Derek out of town for two weeks, well, why not have some fun? Especially since it was Derek's fault in the first place…
She stepped close to Angela, leaning in until their faces were inches apart, and Laura could see the outlines of her own face and horns reflected in Angela's eyes. She unraveled her tail from around her leg and rubbed it up and down Angela's. "The maid has been lax in her duties. She needs a spanking, I think."
"Ooh, Mistress," Angela pleaded, mischief in her eyes, "please, not here."
Laura glanced at the shopkeeper, who was doing his best not to appear to be looking at them. "Very well," she sighed, in the tone of a long-suffering parent, "your discipline may wait until… a later time."
"I look forward to it, Mistress."
After a long moment, Angela took off the wig and her clothes and body shifted back to her usual lanky self, topped with her electric blue hair. "Wow, even the transformation feels pretty awesome. It sent shivers down my back!" She set the wig on the counter, and kept looking.
She found a wig of white hair with a halo on it, and when she slid it on, she actually winced as a pair of large feathered wings sprouted from her back, and her clothes morphed into a white toga. She turned to Laura, her pale skin shining in the dim light of the store. "It's an interesting contrast to you, and it kind of fits, but… nah. Too obvious."
She tried on a few more, discarding each, until she got to one that wasn't a wig at all—it was a bald cap, painted a bright shade of electric blue just a few shades lighter than her hair, with two purple antenna sticking out of it. Angela pulled it down over her hair, and almost as if someone had filled the cap with paint, the bright blue color spread down across all of her skin. Her lips turned the same vibrant purple as her antenna, and her clothes transformed into a glittery gold top that stretched across her chest, and a short gold miniskirt that wrapped tightly around her hourglass figure as her hips swelled outward a few inches with the transformation.
But the most noticeable thing was that as the bright blue tint of her skin spread down across her chest, a third breast expanded between her other two, inflating like a balloon until all three breasts were almost as big as her head. The gold wrapping across her chest looked like it was stretched to its breaking point.
Angela grinned, and looked down, wrapping her arms around her new chest and squeezing them together, then turning to the mirror and running her hands down her alien body. She stuck her tongue out of her mouth; it, too, was bright purple. "Now this," she said, "is what I'm talking about!" She bent over, squeezing her three breasts, and then grinned. "At last," she turned and winked at Laura, "I found a costume that's even weirder than yours!" She rubbed her smooth bald head; the wig was totally seamless against her skin.
Laura raised an eyebrow. "That's what you were looking for?"
"Absolutely," Angela said. "This way, most of the attention will be on me."
"Wait a minute," said Laura. "What attention are you talking about?"
Angela's purple lips split in a grin. "Isn't it obvious, my fellow semi-human? We're going out tonight."
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Laura sat on the edge of her bed, looking at herself in the full-length mirror on the wall—she still wasn't used to the red-skinned devil girl that stared back. "Are you nuts?" she asked, toying with her horns nervously. "I can't go out like this. People will…"
"People will what?" Angela asked, her voice echoing from the depths of Laura's closet. "Stare?"
"Yes."
"I thought you liked the attention," Angela said. "Now, where's all that leather you used to own?"
Laura sighed, getting off the bed and letting her tail drag along the sheets behind her. "I was in college back then. These days, I prefer one-on-one playtime. With Derek," she added.
"Just with Derek?" Angela asked, walking toward her and leaning against the door frame. She was back in her "normal" form, with her usual bright blue hair. "What, were you planning to settle down with him?"
Laura shrugged. "I was hoping. He's kind of a clueless idiot, though."
Angela laughed. "I saw some of those wigs, honey. He could have left you in way worse shape." She picked up the clown wig and tossed it to her. "Case in point."
Laura thought back to the Halloween party and was glad her red skin hid her blush. "Yeah , what a relief..." She set it down. "All right, Angela," she said, "I'll play along. If you're looking for the good stuff, check the trunk by my shoes."
It was a wooden antique trunk; it looked more like it might hold family heirlooms than kinky fashions. Angela took some folded clothes off the top of the trunk, then opened it like a pirate who'd just found buried treasure. "Excellent," she grinned. She rifled through the contents, producing a few leather corsets, and a leather collar and a chain. "Hmm, better keep those handy…"
"Like I said, I'll play along," added Laura, "but only under a few conditions. You want to go out? Fine. But let's face facts," she clicked her black-tinted fingernails together, "I'm the devil girl. I'll be doing the leash holding, not the other way around."
Angela turned and smiled. "I love it when your dominant streak comes out to play."
"Oh, and speaking of dominant streak…" Laura held up the "wig" that Angela selected. "I'm trapped in this wig, so it's only fair for you to be trapped in yours." She bent over and pulled the cap over Angela's head. Taken off guard, Angela gasped, startled, as the changes swept across her body. Her skin turned electric blue, and she hunched over until the change was finished. When she sat back up, she had three large, bouncy breasts with purple nipples. Her breasts pushed out so far that they brushed her arms whenever she moved.
"Hey," said Angela. "No fair sneaking up like that." She tried to take the cap off, but suddenly cursed when it wouldn't budge.
Laura grinned. "Don't tell me you forgot. Only the person who put the wig on can take it off. Hence my whole problem with Derek."
Angela looked at herself in the mirror; her three large breasts were bound tight by the gold wrapping, and the silver miniskirt showed off her figure perfectly. She was almost as tall in her costume as she was out of costume, and she ran a hand over her smooth blue head, brushing her antennae as she did so. They stuck up a few inches from her head, and they bounced right back up after being pushed down under her hand. "Ooh," Angela said, "those feel weird."
She tried to stretch her arms out in front of her, but she couldn't do so without squeezing her swollen trio of breasts together. They were clearly going to be unwieldy for her.
Laura just smiled and stroked her tail, enjoying the sensation.
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A couple hours later, Laura looked at herself in the mirror. She found herself having doubts, but those were smothered by a simple truth: Angela was a master at looking good—and at making other people look good, too. She ran her hands down the shiny black corset that hugged her curves.
Under Angela's ministrations, her makeup was dark and smoldering, and she looked every inch the tempting devil girl. She was dressed in a black corset, a leather miniskirt, and stockings that came all the way up to her upper thigh, and a pair of six-inch black stilettos. Damn, she thought, I haven't looked this good since college.
Angela, meanwhile, had shed the golden top entirely, and with narrow strips of black tape had made little crosses over her nipples. She was wearing with the collar, which Laura had padlocked with a tiny lock, and the silver chain extended to Laura's hand.
Laura tugged the collar. "Well, my alien slave girl," she asked, "shall we see what adventures await?"
Angela smiled. "As you wish, Mistress."
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