A D/s Fairy Tale 5&6"( MF FF F-dom fant )[3/7]
Chapter 5: Bottoming from the Top - Molly's Dream Scene


Hours later, an exhausted Chris collapsed gracelessly and
awkwardly into the large chair that faced her bedroom windows. 
At least her mind was free, again.  On the other side of the
room, tucked into Christiana's bed, slept a thoroughly
exhausted Molly. The ravages of a hard day's play stood out
starkly on her porcelain skin.  Chris did not feel much better
than her little friend looked, but there would be no rest for
her until she could get herself free of this infernal get-up
that Molly had finally decided Chris would wear for their day
of Molly-directed frolic.  

Molly's impromptu fashion show had included every single piece
of scene attire in Christiana's secret closet.  At Molly's
"request", Chris had spent the entire morning struggling into
and out of complicated leather harnesses, latex bustiers and
pants, strictly boned satin corsets, thigh high boots,
stiletto heeled shoes and skin tight gloves.  They had spent
hours in and among her things because there were so many of
them to try on. Chris had indulged her own passion for sexy
fetish wear for as long as she'd had the money to do it

Daddy had always been very generous with his little girl's
allowance and almost never asked any questions about where the
money went.  Some of the things that came out of that closet
Chris could not remember buying.  Some were more suited to the
figure of the still coltish seventeen year old girl who
purchased them than to the sleekly rounded and womanly Chris. 
She grinned tiredly at the memories.  Molly must have been
hell on wheels with a Barbie Doll.

The grin died as the tightly laced, too small corset forcibly
brought her thoughts back to the present.  Well, she smiled to
herself, that's me - Mistress Barbie Doll - dress her up and
she plays exactly the way her owner wants because it is *only*
her owner's imagination that drives the play. 

Wearily, Chris struggled to her feet and began the laborious
task of getting herself undressed.  Chris had to admit as she
watched herself undress in her mirror, she did look smashing. 
Actually, she stopped just short of being a walking, pulp
fiction caricature of a dominatrix - a living, breathing
(well, almost breathing - that damned corset was so tight)
Eric Stanton original.  Unfortunately, the reason she looked
so great was that everything was at least one or two sizes too
small.  Molly had, unwittingly and unerringly, designed Chris
a costume that a Spanish Inquisitor would have loved - on
someone else.  Each lovingly selected piece was an instrument
of artistic torment. 

Her outfit was basic black, contrasting sharply with her
redhead's pale complexion.  High heeled, lace-up boots, so
shiny that they seemed to be black liquid, ran all the way to
the apex of her thighs. The heavily boned corset was tightly
laced and was  fully closed from the base of her spine to just
below her bosom.  Eight garters disappeared into the top of
each boot to connect to stockings hidden beneath the glossy
leather.  A saddle strap, with a utility ring that acted as a
dildo harness, was attached to front of the corset and was
then pulled tightly though her crotch to a matching buckle on
the garment's back.  The rubber top, which had cutouts for her
nipples to show through, covered her from mid-bicep to just
below her chin to her navel.  Completing her ensemble were the
gloves and a two inch wide, black velvet choker with a cameo
pinned to it.

Stark, vivid cosmetics and a wild, riotously shaggy hairdo
completed the presentation Molly had wanted.  Chris looked
exotic, sexy, dangerous.

And while she'd been under Molly's control, she had appeared
to be ecstatically happy with their games, too.  Thanks to
Adrian's spell.  Actually, every step had been agony and every
breath had been labored.  Halfway through her scene with
Molly, the caged part of Christiana's mind that had still been
hers had fervently and fluently cursed her inability to throw
away anything sexy, even if that "anything" did not fit her
properly.  

In the past, whenever she started to clean out that closet,
she'd found some reason (or more correctly, some excuse) to
keep each and every piece.  She was going to lose a few
pounds, or those shoes pinched because her feet were swollen
from standing all day.  Always, some little lie that justified
keeping some item she really couldn't use anymore.  Every
painfully gorgeous item Molly had dressed her in was one that
Chris had tried, unsuccessfully, to toss at one time or
another.

The platform heels were too high for her small feet and
stretched her arches sadistically.  The corset was far too
tightly laced.  The latex breast harness, which had been
bought when she had first gone away to college, was two inches
and two cup sizes too small for the more mature and statuesque
Christiana.  It had turned her boobs into burgeoning torpedoes
of painfully compacted flesh, and the nipple holes?  They were
just too tiny for the large, lush aureoles that currently
graced Christiana's bosoms, but with all that tit flesh
stuffed into the harness behind them, her nips tried to
squeeze out anyway.  Even the gloves were uncomfortable,
restricting her fingers so much she could hardly grasp her
flogger.

The first glove came off in a rubbery snapping sound.  

With the free use of that hand, the second glove quickly
followed.  Chris flexed her fists to restore normal
circulation back into blood starved fingers. As she fought to
contort herself into a position where she could reach the
corset lacings in the small of her back, Mattel's doll slipped
back into her mind.  She recently seen a show on PBS that had
discussed the damage done by the Barbie Doll to the self image
of American women.  Evidently, a real woman shaped like Barbie
would be nearly seven feet tall, and have a figure along the
lines of 60" - 15" - 45".  

God, she thought, in these heels and in this damnable corset,
I feel close to that. Too damn close.  Mistress Barbie indeed. 
Another thought struck her.  Did anyone make fetish doll
clothes for Ken and Barbie?  If Molly was anything to judge
by, Mattel was missing out on a big cash producer.  Chris
would have some special ordered for her friend.  Especially if
Molly's release was not permanent and she could reclaim
control of her each time they met after a separation.

The corset nearly popped as the laces slipped loose.  The
sweet release of oxygen starved lungs filling with air nearly
left her lightheaded.  Orgasms rarely felt that good.  The
latex halter top followed as quickly as she could manage. 
Both would have new homes as soon as Chris could arrange it. 
Maybe Molly....?

Chris donned a soft fleecy robe and returned to the bedroom to
watch her friend sleeping in her bed.  The poor darling was
emotionally drained.  Be careful what you wish for, Chris
thought, you just might get it, Molly-love.

The 'scene', Chris could not think of anything else to call
the day's debacle no matter how hard she tried, had begun
immediately after the fashion show.  

It had been an utter disaster.

Although she had not shown it much of late, Christiana did
have a very clear understanding of what did and what did not
reach her favored subs' inner psyches.  Whether the subs
admitted wanting that type of play to themselves or not was
another matter.  Many submissives, in Christiana's experience,
fought against the very games that actually got to them the
most, often resisted strenuously against playing those games
until they were seduced into them by their domme.

Molly was one of those who refused to accept that she loved
the very games that triggered her.  For her, that dark need
was sensory deprivation under strict bondage and delayed
gratification.  Mistress Christiana achieved the most with her
slave-pixie when she withheld Molly's permission to climax,
all the while teasing her until she was almost insane with
frantic need.  For her part, Molly tried everything she could
think of to convince Chris that she was wrong about Molly's
hot buttons, but the little darling had never safeworded once
during such a scene.  The climaxes she could wring out of
Molly during such sessions were truly monumental and Chris
loved watching her friend shatter under their force.

But Molly had other ideas for today's play, and helpless to
resist, Chris had instantly complied with Molly's slightest
wish and demand.  The bondage positions had been too loose to
provide any tension and had not even retrained Molly to keep
her from hurting herself had the arousal became too strong. 
That had not become a problem only because Molly had no
intention of letting herself get that strung out during the
course of this day's play.  Chris had lost count of the number
of orgasms she'd been ordered  to give Molly.  Molly had more
climaxes in the first half hour of the session than she
normally had in three regular sessions.  The poor dear's big
problem was that none of those climaxes did anything to
satisfy her.
 
At first, Molly decided that this was because the pleasure was
too one-sided, so she 'made' Chris cum each time she touched
her with her tongue or fingers.  Soon the combination of too
many orgasms and not enough oxygen made Chris feel faint. 
When Chris tried to avoid these magic-induced climaxes, Molly
just had ordered her get closer again.  Chris nearly swooned
twice during the scene when her corset-restricted lungs simply
could not keep up with her body's demand for air.

When mutual orgasm did not work for her, Molly concluded that
her orders to Chris might be the problem.  She "asked" Chris
to gag her and then to proceed with the teasing.  Ultimately,
even that ploy failed because the magical nature of the
communication between the two women seemed to transcend
speech.  Chris literally felt Molly's mental demands and
reacted to them as helplessly as she had when Molly had been
able to vocalize them.

This went on for almost four hours before something happened
to stop the orgasm overload.  Another telepathic demand for
orgasm flitted into Christiana's mind.  That specific time,
Molly had wanted her pussy eaten by her lover.  Unable to
resist, an exhausted Chris had knelt to obey when the
condition of her friend's sex stopped her cold.

The labia were shockingly red from irritation, and were far
too swollen to result from mere arousal.  Small abrasions wept
dark trickles to her thighs.  Molly was hurt and would be hurt
more if this continued.

The moment that realization crystallized in her mind, all
compulsion forcing Chris to continue the scene vanished. 
Moving as quickly as her restrictive garb permitted, Chris
freed Molly from her bonds and the laid her down on the floor
to rest.  Tears had streamed down Molly's face as her hands,
clumsy from their extended restraint, flailed at the buckled
gag.  Chris freed her friend's mouth and was immediately faced
with a nearly hysterical Molly. 

"Oh God, Chris, it was awful!  Nothing was the way I dreamed
it would be, the way I wanted it to be!  You scratched every
itch and tickle before it got to be any good."  She blew
noisily as a child into a hankie that Chris held to her nose. 
"Hell, it was like masturbating with a domina-dildo.  I
thought having you gag me would give you the chance to do
things a little better, sort of half way between how you
usually do it and how I thought I wanted it.  Only the moment
I thought about cumming, you brought me off.  Even when I just
thought about it."  She took the hankie and blew again. 
"There was no spontaneity, no anxiety, no wonder or slow
buildup of tension." she blew out a shaky breath.  "No big
boom - just a bunch of meaningless little pops that left me
exhausted but didn't do anything for to satisfy me.  It was
awful."

Chris looked down at Molly, feeling helpless, and more,
feeling like a failure.  Slipping down beside her, she pulled
Molly into her arms.  What could she have done?  She knew that
the scene had been wrong from the start, but she had been
incapable of doing anything else.  And she had tried to resist
- particularly once the gag had been in place - she had tried
to resist the compulsion to bring Molly to orgasm.  It had
been futile.   Each little mental niggle had turned into
overwhelming compulsion and either her fingers or her tongue
had ended up on Molly's tiny lotus jewel, dragging yet another
little climax out of her ravaged body.

Molly pushed at Chris, moving back from her embrace so she
could look her friend in the eyes, again.  "I know what was
wrong, Chris."  The tears were slowing now, and the catches in
her voice receding.  Molly was coming down off her
disappointment.  "I can't dominate myself.  I don't want to
dominate myself.. I don't want it like this....I don't want
you like this... Please." she gulped in air around another
sob. "Stop obeying me, please, Chris." 

The cold, nerve wracking sensation enveloped Chris again. 
Chris decided to test her control.  "Well, young lady, I hope
you have learned your lesson.  Mistress knows best.  Now, I
want that cute tush of yours in the tub soaking before I count
to ten or I will make it bright, bright red before you get in. 
And you are spending the night here so I can keep an eye on
you.  Now, scoot!"

"But, Chris..." Molly's eyes were wide with wonder.  Chris had
never let her stay over night before. 

Forcing a stern look on her face, Chris had simply said,
"One."  Molly had squealed happily and then scrambled off for
the bathroom, but not before Chris managed to land a light
swat on the afore mentioned tush.

Chris had fed Molly a bowl of soup and then put her to bed
before going back into the dun-gym to undress herself.  

Seated on the edge of the bed, her mind came back from her
ruminations on the day's activities.  They certainly gave a
whole new meaning to the concept of "topping from the bottom". 
Chris may have held the flogger, but Molly had held the
control and the power.  As a result, neither of them had
enjoyed the experience at all.  She suspected, however, that
both of them had learned quite a bit.  

For her part, Chris knew that Molly wanted to give more than
she had previously been permitted to give during a scene. 
Molly wanted a more active part in their play; she wanted to
give pleasure to Christiana.  Chris grinned.  She could live
with that.  As for her little friend, Molly now understood how
much anticipation added to the pleasure and joy of their play.

Another grin lit Christiana's face.  Once this punishment was
over, and Molly was healed up down there, Chris would
reinforce that lesson for her sweet little sub.  And she would
take advantage of the lesson she had learned about Molly's
desire to serve.  The little darling would really make a
perfect dominant lady's serving maid.

God, she was exhausted, Chris thought as she slipped in
beneath the covers to snuggle her belly up against Molly's
tight little butt.  Yes, Molly'd make a great little maid
servant once she was properly trained and she'd love doing it
once she figured that out.  And better still, Chris had just
the outfit to dress her in for the training period sitting in
a pile on the dun-gym floor.  Molly would love that, too,
Chris mused as sleep claimed her.

Chapter 6 - The Submissive Who Would Be King

Christiana awoke to the first, cold rays of light lancing
through the gauzy curtains of her penthouse suite.  Languidly,
she stretched before rolling over to find Molly's side of the
bed oddly empty.  Where had she gone?  She had wanted to
examine Molly's puss to make sure the little darling did not
need medical attention down there.  

Chris shrugged, figuring the ever efficient Molly was doing
something.  As for herself, she again felt wonderfully rested
and refreshed.  The boredom had evidently weighed on her in
more ways than one.  Chris slid out of her bed and padded
across the thickly carpeted floor to stand in front of the
east facing french doors only to have her hopes for a bright
sunrise go unfulfilled once again.

Overnight, a cold Noreaster had evidently blown in
unexpectedly from the south.  Wind driven rain fell from a
steel gray sky that showed only the barest hint that there was
a sun.  Winter's hurricane, she thought, awesome in its own
right, but different from its late summer cousin because it
has something more - something hidden and unexpected. Much
like her life had become since Adrian had cast his spell. 
What surprise would this day bring to light when the gray
skies cleared?

Shrugging out of her reveries, Chris headed off to find Molly. 
"Molly?" she called as she crossed into the main living area
of the apartment.  There was no answer.  Chris made a quick
search of the apartment, but there was no sign of Molly
anywhere.  Her clothes were gone.  Even the dun-gym was
straightened up - all the strewn about clothes had been picked
up and put away and all of the bondage gear had either been
stowed or put back into it's innocuous exercise equipment
disguise.  When had Molly gotten up, anyway?  And where was
she?  Chris hadn't known Molly knew how to convert the rack
back into a Nautilus set, or the spanking block back into a
free weight bench.

She was starting to get worried when the door bell rang. 
Relief sang as she all but ran to the door.  Confidence in the
professionalism and vigilance of the building's guard force
had her swinging open her door without first checking the
peephole to see who was there.  "Molly!  Where in heaven's
name have you b....."  her voice broke off as she saw the tall
form standing patiently in her entry hall.  "Oh god, Leon."

Once again, fiery ice coated her body.  Nerveless fingers
slipped from the door handle as her blue eyes locked on slate
gray ones.  'Why him?' thoughts reverberated in her mind.  Of
all her subs, why Leon?  Leon, the submissive who continued to
submit to her as a means to a single, overriding goal - to
switch with her and dominate her.

Leon Whitworth was the regional executive director of the
realty company that managed this and several other high value
properties in the Greater Boston Area.  Everything about him
was unusual. He was rather young for a position of such
authority and responsibility, but he had earned that promotion
by virtue of brute competence and drive.  He stood only an
inch taller than Christiana and was very slender for a man -
almost slight in fact.  She had never checked, but he probably
weighed no more than she did.  Gray eyes set high in a
sculpted, high cheek-boned face that framed a full mouth that
always seemed to be curled up in a smile.  Even his soft,
caramel brown hair was special.  He wore it longer than the
current style favored by young professionals, and normally
kept it tied back in a Colonial style club pony tail.  His
hair was gorgeous and it had fascinated her from the day
they'd first met.

That first meeting had not been at all auspicious.  In fact,
it had been damnably embarrassing and might have become
publicly humiliating had not Leon been the person she had come
to love. 

Chris had been scening with Molly shortly after Leon had been
promoted to his current post.  She'd forgotten to close and
seal the sound proofed door to the dun-gym, and as was typical
for Molly when Chris neglected to gag her, her darling sub had
been quite vocally discussing her need.  Leon had heard
Molly's screams, used his passkey to gain access to
Christiana's apartment and had come charging to the rescue. 
Needless to say, his arrival had shattered the scene's
ambiance quite thoroughly.  Chris and Leon had simply stared
at each other, wordlessly, for uncounted heartbeats, neither
knowing quite what to do.  

Molly had known, though.  Nude, spread-eagled on the Nautilus
Cross, she had screeched like an angry fishwife for Leon to
get the hell out of there - yesterday.  Fortunately for
everyone, Leon had recognized what was really happening
between the two women and had left quietly to let Chris deal
with a very upset Molly and her after care.  Maybe that was
the origin of Molly's antipathy, or perhaps more accurately,
her intense, very personal dislike of Leon.  Chris sometimes
wondered if the lady did protest too much on that score, but
had not tried to pursue that thought.

The real surprise had come later when Leon had returned to ask
if Chris played with men as well as women.  That had begun a
highly satisfying two year relationship that blended
friendship with female domination.  Leon filled both roles
with the single minded intensity that had vaulted him ahead of
his peers in his company. 

As a friend, he had simply been there when she needed someone. 
Leon was the person who had helped her put together the
business plan that had finally derailed her uncle's plans to
unseat her as CEO.  Leon was the one who remembered her
birthday with a silly, brotherly card or a stuffed animal. 
Over time, they had grown so close that Chris had attempted to
take their relationship to a deeper, more physical level, but
with a smile and a hug, he had gently declined her rather
overt offer.  Initially miffed, she had gradually come to
accept his decision.  She'd even been grateful once she had
met Eric.

As a submissive, he was a wonder to her.  Whether he was
kissing her, whimpering in bondage, flinching as she
alternately ran her fingers through or pulled his hair, or
bathing her, Leon's total focus was on *her*, on what *she*
wanted and on what *she* needed in that moment.   He was the
most open submissive she had ever played with, willing to try
almost anything.  In fact, she could not think of a time when
he had refused anything he had not tried at least once.
 
"May I come in, Christiana?"  his soft tenor voice called her
back to the present.  Swallowing hard to keep her pounding
heart in her chest, Chris nodded and stepped back to make way
for him.

She closed the door and turned to face her fate.  "Leon, I am
yours to command.  Please tell me what you wish me to do." 
Once again, the words had formed in her mouth without
conscious thought. 

Leon's eyes went wide, then narrowed suspiciously.  Finally he
spoke.  "Why now, Chris?"  None of 'her' Leon's softness was
evident in his tones.  Anger suffused every fiber of his lanky
frame.  "Is this another of your games to keep me playing with
you as your bottom?  Because, after that Halloween stunt of
yours, I can assure you that is not going to happen."

His hard words brought painful memories flooding back.  After
a almost a year and a half of submitting to Mistress
Christiana, Leon had asked Chris if she would consider
switching, and letting him try his hand at topping her for a
change.  This was not the first time one of her submissive
playmates had made such a request.  Before, with other
submissives, Chris had dealt gently with their requests by
referring them to a local dominance and submission group and
sponsoring them in the group.  Submission was not her thing,
but she understood the appeal of topping and had tried to help
her friends all she could.

Until Leon.  Leon had made his request of her after the
boredom had cast its shadowy veil over Christiana's soul. 
This time her response had been different.  She had made a
deal with him.  Basically, their agreement stated that she
would bottom to him periodically and help him learn to
function as a top, if he fulfilled his side of the agreement. 
Innocently, Leon had immediately agreed to his friend's idea.  

Unfortunately, Chris had been rigged the game.

Chris had contended that Leon was a sub, that he enjoyed being
a sub and that, therefore, there was no point in him learning
to top.  She would only bottom to him if he failed to find
pleasure solely from acts of submission to her.  The setting
and planning of the scenes would be her choice, but she
guaranteed that he would find pleasure every time, in every
scene.  When Leon had asked her what she meant, she said that
if she could not make him climax without any direct contact
with his genitals during a scene, he would prove that he was
not 'totally submissive'.

Once he agreed to her deal, Christiana had him, literally, by
the ass because she *knew* Leon.  And she had turned one of
Leon's great strengths into his Achilles Heel.  Unusually
sensual for a man, Leon could become aroused from a variety of
stimuli on many parts of his body, but his butt and his ass
were particularly susceptible to erotic sensations.  Chris
could, and often did, make him climax by playing with
vibrators and teasers in his ass, or by thoroughly scourging
his tight butt with her deerskin flogger.  

The deal permitted Chris to set the stage for their play
without prior negotiation, provided no previously agreed upon
limits were violated.  This freed her to try something she had
previously hesitated to explore with her friend and had not
really negotiated.  

Mistress Christiana began training Leon to cross dress as a
woman.  It was not difficult - his slender build and physical
grace worked well in feminine dress.  Christiana's previous
hesitation in this regard had been solely to avoid really
humiliating her friend, but as the ennui's hold on her grew
stronger, that factor had no longer mattered as much to her
has it should have.  Besides, feminization games gave her an
excellent ploy to get some sexy toy up Leon's bottom and force
him to his orgasm.  She could get in some lovely digs about
how, maybe, he really wanted to serve a Master instead of
wanting to be one himself.

Of course, none of these issues had been lost on Leon who had
become steadily more unhappy with the arrangement.  The
crowning indignity had come on Halloween, when she had taken
him to a D&S club masquerade party.

"Chris?"  His soft voice again called her back.  God, she
thought, but this is so hard.  "Are you going to answer my
question?"  

Shaking inwardly, she nodded and directed him to a chair in
the living room.  Seating herself, she took a deep breath, and
haltingly began telling the story of a wizard named Adrian
Luthor, of a man named Eric, of a woman named Chris and of
magical punishments.

She felt drained when she finished her tale, having described
in detail her helpless participation in Molly's dream-scene-
turned-nightmare.  Silence reigned as Leon simply stared at
her, his face a blank mask that gave away nothing of how he
felt about this unexpected turn of events.  

Chris resisted an urge to fidget, but her inability to sense
what he was feeling and thinking was beginning to unnerve her. 
One reason she had become so skilled a domme at so relatively
young an age was her ability to sense the emotions of her
submissives.  She was getting nothing from Leon.  Was her
innate ability to read feelings just another casualty of her
malaise?  Was that why she had needed more and more emotion
from her submissives, any emotion, to feed her during her
scenes?

"You really expect me to believe that . . .  that fractured
fairy tale?"  he finally said.

"Yes."  she said flatly, "Because it is true.  You have only
to ask me to do something - hell, you only have to think of me
doing something - and I will appear to be deliriously happy
while I am doing it."

Chris watched as first disbelief and then smug determination
lined his smooth featured face.  My God, she thought, What was
he up t........

Before that thought was fully formed, waves of sensual
pleasure crashed over her body, overwhelming every other sense
as an unnaturally powerful, completely unexpected orgasm
ravaged her.  Every tendon clenched as she shuddered
uncontrollably through shimmering peak after shimmering peak. 
She screamed in helpless, blissful torment until her spasming
diaphragm could no longer move, could no longer fill her
aching lungs with the desperately needed air.  She fell from
her seat to writhe on the floor when, as unexpectedly as it
had begun, the exquisite agony stopped.

Leon was at her side, helping her back to her seat, massaging
painfully cramping muscles.  "You weren't kidding."  he said
in wonder.  "You couldn't know what I wanted because I did not
say anything.  I only thought it."

The hurting, empty ache inside her did not show on her
magically smiling countenance. Why had he taken his test that
far?  Surely, a couple of humiliatingly uncontrolled climaxes
should have been enough. "Now you believe me, Leon?" Still
winded from her ordeal, her voice caught on each syllable. 
Even spellbound, it was next to impossible to sound cheerful
when you were fighting for every gasp of air.

Gently, Leon helped her back to her seat.  "Guess I have to,
Chris."  His brow furrowed as a thought struck him. "You said
he turned you into a half woman/half bitch?"  Warily, Chris
nodded.  "Wow.  I wonder...."

No sooner were the words out of his mouth then the wild,
nauseating maelstrom sucked her in - just as it had when
Adrian had changed her.  Slowly, the world stopped its mad
dance and her stomach returned to its normal place. 
Cautiously, she opened one eye to examine her hands and legs. 
Still human, but oddly different somehow.  Her manicure?  The
long, red-lacquered tips were gone; replaced by shorter, more
utilitarian nails in an almost clear, femininely pink shade. 
Why had he changed her fingernails?  She opened both eyes to
see Leon staring at her in dumbfounded wonder.

"Amazing.  Chris, drop that robe and look at yourself in your
mirror."

Curiosity prompted her as much as the force of his command. 
She moved, almost tripping over the suddenly over-long
peignoir, to the mirror with her eyes again closed.   With a
deep breath, she dropped the robe, opened her eyes and saw . .
. . 

 Molly.  

Unbelieving, Chris took a hesitant step closer to the mirror,
and reached out to touch her reflected image with one hand.
Wide-eyed, she watched as her other hand moved to touch the
same place on her body she touched on her reflection.  "You
saw all this, in just those few seconds two years ago."  Her
hands moved to those familiar, yet unfamiliar, smaller
breasts.  "You even got the mole and the inverted nipples
right."

"She made a great impression on me, Chris."  was the soft,
rejoinder. "Well."  Leon continued.  "Guess I won't need
Mistress Lillian to transform you if I decide to play with
your looks."  Lingering hurt and anger shimmered in his voice. 
Well, whatever he decided to do with and to her, she hoped
that she could make amends for that.  She hoped that he could
exorcize that emotion and be her friend again.  She had so
much to make up for with this very special man.