Indian - 12

I told you whathappened when I did it. One person ended up as a fucking dog Cassie adog," I am borderline yelling.She starts to giggle. "I know actually you didn't tell me that. I justaccessed that memory the other day. He fucking deserved it. Though." Shelaughs again. "Look I promise you this Brad. I will only use thevengeance spell if I really think I should. I won't do it in anger and Iwill speak to someone before I do it. But I won't promise not to do itagain. I am not going to lie to you. I just can't make a promise I can'tkeep," she says.I look at her and she is different. I don't retain all the Cassandramemories only the knowledge I gained from them while I was Cassandra butBrad is different. He is different to all the others. I look at her satthere. I have lived her life for nearly a month and at his core Brad isa decent man. He had a moral compass so OK it wasn't perfect but he hadone and knew it had some flaws but he was willing to change if he hurtanyone. I look at this. She let me keep it all for some reason.Here I was, 18, at the start of summer vacation, involuntarily retired from the “oldest profession,” myonce girlish body now muscular yet still somewhat feminine.Testosterone and personal gym trainers are no match for genetics.Plus, my doctor “clients” had killed every hair follicle below myhead in exchange for my services.I was no longer gorgeous by any means; I looked likea lady bodybuilder who used too many 'roids.My B cups had shrunk to barely A's but I still hadprominent, erectile nipples.Mom had gotten me a job at a law office, running errands,filing but mostly just gopher stuff and making coffee.Still the pay was surprisingly good, enough to buy booksfor college in the Fall with some pocket money to boot. Piddling sum, though, compared to what I was makinga year and a half earlier from my affluent 'clients.'I showed up at work in trousers and white shirt, mystill feminine waist and hips showing through theattempted camouflage.I knocked on.
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