Quinn and Angie: The Case of the Witchy Watson

By: ThatGuy



It was an unusually foggy night, that found two women walking together down an empty parkside street. The two were keeping in step despite the weather - one would think they would be trying to get out of the gloomy weather, but instead they were strolling casually along and chatting normally. Or at least, one of them was.



The woman in front was a bit older than the other, late twenties at the most. She was dressed head to toe in collegiate gear: an official college jacket with all school colors and a sorority pin put proudly on her chest. She wore a skirt and stockings like the cheerleaders wore, and indeed had the toned legs of a woman who had done quite a bit of jumping and kicking in her life. All this was accentuated by the constant bounce in her step, and a bubbly demeanor that was obvious even without hearing her talk.



The girl with her was clearly a student - in her second year, at most. But in spite of her younger age, compared to already rather attractive woman next to her she was an absolute bombshell: the most striking part of her was definitely her chest, with breasts that were, in a word, huge. They were almost the size of her head, even wrapped tight against her body. But she also had full hips, unblemished skin and long, and long, luxurious hair that was set off by her thick bottle frames, for severe myopia, which just made her look all the more unique.



When put next to the rest of her figure her legs were on the lanky side, but it did nothing to diminish her appearance. If anything, like her glasses they added to it. But judging by the cold, almost greedy looks she was shooting her companion’s attractive lower half, she didn’t seem to think so. In fact, when compared to the dolled-up woman next to her she was a lot less peppy. She wore just a simple jacket over a tank top and thigh-length shorts, that looked as if she had just thrown them on. And while she smiled and nodded whenever the other woman said anything, once her back was turned there was nothing but scowls and rolled eyes.



“I can’t believe this weather!” The older woman was saying. “The weatherman didn’t say a thing about pea soup! It’s a good thing we’ve got each other, eh Amelia?”



She nudged the girl in the shoulder. The coed stiffed. “Amy,” she said coldly.



The woman looked at her. “Huh?”



“For the last time, I go by ‘Amy’ now.”



“Oh… heh… right.” The woman said, rubbing her neck. “That’s so silly of me! I guess your friends didn’t say anything in their letter about that.”



The girl rolled her eyes. Despite her obvious irritation, Amy let the woman keep talking - something she had been very good at in the past hour. On and on and on…



“As an alum and a proud Eta Omicron Tau, I think it’s all us big sisters’ responsibility to come back and share our wisdom!” The woman giggled to herself, seeming to completely miss Amy’s scoffing. “Especially after all the tragedy you girls faced in the last few weeks!” She sighed sadly, though on her face it came out more like a pout. “All those disappearances, gosh! Starting with your friend Jennifer…”



“Jennifer Bustin was not my friend.” Amy snarled. “She was a narcissistic, oversexed shrew who only made the world less bearable to live in every time she opened her selfish mouth.” The woman winced at the word “oversexed,” her eyes drifting accidentally to Amy’s own figure. Amy didn’t miss the implied comparison. She too glanced down at her chest, but didn't look up again. “Wherever she is, I think she’s doing me a favor being there.”



The woman looked stricken. “W-well, you may say so." She said. "But your sisters say you took her disappearing pretty hard.” Amy's eyes narrowed. She glanced again at the woman’s stockings, as if to brace herself. “They say you’ve been distant and cold lately. And… how to say this…” Her cheeks turned red. Amy just rolled her eyes again.



“… well..." she stammered on. "According to them Jennifer was rather… er… big, and you suddenly getting such… ahem…” With what looked like great difficulty, she kept her eyes from leaving Amy’s scowling face. “… noticeable implants so soon after you lost her has made them all eally concerned. They think you’re dealing with your grief by trying to be like her.”



“Do they?” Amy sneered, being obviously sarcastic. She rested a hand on her boobs, giving them a gentle but deliberate squeeze as she shot the annoying alum a defiant glare. “And what do you think? Too big?”



“W-well I… I couldn’t say.” The woman said awkwardly. “But I have seen good women fall down the rabbit hole by… uh… modifying themselves to avoid their feelings. And then the others started vanishing as well… Kimiko, Keisha, Isolde… those are just the ones we know about!”



Amy nonchalantly filed her nails with her thumb. “What’s your point?” She said.



“My point?!” The woman started to get worked up, but then turned away and sighed. Her companion smirked, thinking she was finally about to give up. “I just wish I could make you understand what you’re doing. To yourself, and to them.”



“Do you?” Amy said, again looking to the woman’s shapely legs. The look on her face could almost be described as hungry. “If it’s any consolation, neither of us will have to suffer this conversation much longer anyway.”



“I’m serious.” The woman said, and for an instant her vapid attitude seemed to disappear. She looked Amy straight in the eyes. “Whatever you’re going through, you don’t have to do all this. You don’t have to be like this.”



There was a split second where Amy was actually taken aback. There was something different in the woman’s eyes, if just for a moment. Something that shook her a little. Or perhaps it was her earnest, heartfelt plea, even though she had no idea what they were really talking about.



But it didn’t last. Amy had better things to worry about than the opinions of a bubbleheaded would-be advisor. Who was this worthless woman to talk about who she should or shouldn’t be?



Her anger rose up again. She was sure they were far enough away from anyone. It was time.



“You know what? I’m tired of this.”



A burst of wind suddenly blew through the street. The woman yelped and pulled her skirt down, but Amy seemed prepared for it. She threw off her jacket and pulled off her tank top. They both flew into the sky, and left her in just a bra which, though it looked far too small, seemed to have no problem holding her generous bustline.



The woman gasped at Amy’s almost-nakedness, which was understandable. The girl had left herself in just a bra and a pair of short shorts, and with an exaggerated figure like hers...



“W-what are you-“ she started, but Amy angrily cut her off.



“Listen, you airheaded fool! These are not extensions.” She yanked at her hair, which went naturally taut. “And these are not implants!” Even more roughly, she cupped her hefty breasts and thrust them furiously into the woman’s terrified face.



An insane grin was slowly crawling along Amy’s lips. Unlike her hair, she didn’t let her breasts go. Instead, she lovingly wrapped her arms around them. “I was tired of being mocked. Tired of being overlooked. Jennifer was the last straw, ridiculing me day in and day out because I didn’t have ridiculous, obviously fake tits or dress like some degenerate tramp!”



“W-what…” the woman repeated. She seemed too stunned to say anything else.



“Finding that magic book was a godsend. Once I did, I could make much better use out of my so-called sisters. Starting with Jennifer! It felt so… right, watching the conceited bitch melt down right in front of me, twisting and pulling and losing everything but what she was so proud of. I still remember how wonderful it felt when she finally sunk into my chest and gave me…” She gave her breasts a sudden squeeze, and she gasped with a surge of wicked pleasure. “… these babies!”



The woman slowly tried to back away. Her head shook by itself. Nothing that the girl was saying made any sense. But she knew it was real.



“They’re perfect! Even more than I always dreamed. And I couldn’t stop there, could I?” Amy continued. Her breathing was ragged, but from passion or plain old cruel excitement was unclear. “Isolde came looking for Jennifer. Her best friend, always so much “nicer,” yet always condoning her actions. And little old me, lopsided.” She giggled wildly, wrapping her hand around her side. “Isolde always insisted she had a thin, Scandinavian figure. But those hips didn’t lie.”



She jutted her own curvaceous hips towards the terrified woman, with a wicked laugh as the older woman squeaked and fell back in surprise. She gave her side a hard slap, and watched as the skin stayed firm. “And now they’re mine! All mine! But I had to have more!” Amy was in a frenzy now. “Kimiko, so braggy just because she’s been growing her hair since third grade.” She put a hand through her own hair. It parted too easily, running over her fingers like water. “Her flesh became fibers of long, full beauty. And she’ll never fray, will she?”



She twirled her locks around her arms, caressing the length of it and feeling the way it touched her skin. “And how it felt as Keisha, always hoarding those 'natural products' too keep her skin so clear, ran like lotion onto every inch of me. She made me as smooth and soft as a silk! And now I'm perfect. Well…” She glanced at her “mentor.” “… almost perfect.”



“W-what do you mean?”



Amy groaned. “Damn, you’re stupid! I swear, I would’ve bailed on this entire conversation an hour ago if it weren’t for those!” She grinned evilly at the woman’s thighs, wearing that same greedy expression. Her target stumbled back as Amy eyed her up and down, and hit her bottom on the ground. Her legs flailed beneath her, and she was painfully aware that the part of her this insane coed was apparently after was now even more on display.



“W-what are you going to do to me?” She squeaked.



“I’m going to make you a part of me. You will cease to exist, except as part of my beautiful body! Those perfect stems will become my perfect stems.” She chuckled, extending her hands towards her witless victim. “I mean, obviously! After making those airheaded brats into so such perfect improvements, why should I be stuck with these awkward, gangly legs? That’s just not right.”



“T-they’re not that bad,” the advisor stammered, actually being honest despite it all. In fact, had Amy been more observant she might have noticed that despite the stutter, the woman wasn’t sweating. “You d-don’t want to do this.”



“Hah! Is this the third or the fourth time I’ve heard that?” Amy giggled. “It turns out that I really do!” She jabbed sadistically at the woman's legs with her hands, just stopping short of making contact just to see her shiver.



Once she had enough of her fear, she closed in for real. “I’ll put you all to better use. No one will ever overlook me again…”



<ZAP!>



Suddenly there was a shriek, but not from the terrified woman. It came from Amy. A look of horror crossed her face, and for an instant one could see her fear as her body twisted and shrunk out of her control. Then she was gone. Her jacket and tank top fluttered from above, and landed where she had been.



Still shocked by Amy's last movement, the woman scooted away but hit a bush and fell on her back. It took her a moment to realize nothing had happened. When she looked again, all she saw where Amy had stood was the pile of clothes, and under that a plastic Barbie doll that rolled on the sidewalk with a soft clak. As she looked closer, she could see Amy’s face smiling blankly on the head of the plastic figure, idealized and otherwise identical to all others.



It seemed the deranged girl had gotten her perfect body after all. Just not at all in the way she expected.



Before the woman would wonder why, a second girl leapt out of the bushes. This newcomer pointed dramatically at the doll and laughed, leaves and bits of twig falling off her as she did. “Ha! Take that, you crazy bitch!”



The woman looked back and forth between the new girl and the doll that had obviously been her would-be attacker. “W-what?”



Instead of giving answers, the girl just smiled at her. “Don’t worry. You’re safe now.” She said, clapping the woman on her shoulder.



But at this, the woman went from confused to aghast. Even, to the newcomer's surprise, a bit angry. “What have you done?” She snapped. She grabbed the doll from the ground and looked it over, checking intently for something the new girl couldn’t see.



The girl tried to take the doll, but the woman pulled it away. “I just got rid of a psycho that was about to put you on her thighs!” She replied indignantly. Her face turned red, as irritation settled in. She was expecting a little more gratitude! “No need to thank me or anything!”



“Thank you?!” The woman cried incredulously. She gripped the doll tight in her hands, assuming that the person the doll once was would no longer care.



“You’re welcome!” The girl shouted, throwing her hands up as if that settled things.



But this was apparently the last straw. “Stop. Just stop.” The woman said, with such finality that the girl actually did. She held the doll in one hand and, with the other, pulled her own hair just as Amy had a few minutes before. Unlike the magically enhanced girl, the woman’s hair popped off, revealing a wig and curly brown locks. Tossing the wig away, she then reached into her spirit jacket and pulled out a business card. It wasn't a particularly fancy one, but it was still official none the less.



She tossed the card at the girl, who caught it without even looking at it.



“My name is Angie Desine,” she said. “I’m a detective. And I was undercover, until you got involved!”



Without the wig, the girl could recognize her face better. Her eyes widened in surprise, but her pride - and a few pent up feelings - would only let her grumble in response. “Oh, yeah. I remember you. You’re the one who looks into weird cases like mi-” She stopped herself short, and cleared her throat. “Like these.”



“And you’re Quinn Thomas, if I remember right.” Angie replied coldly. “An amateur witch supposedly training to do some good, as I heard. But I didn’t know you had a hero complex! You’ve nearly ruined everything!”



“Hey!” Quinn snarled. “If it wasn’t for me, she would’ve had you squeezed into a pair of cheap jeans by now! Clearly you needed me! Not that that's surprising!”



But Angie had ugly looks of her own, and hers were more experienced. Her faced would've cowed anyone less headstrong. But Quinn, stubborn to a fault, just stared angrily at her.



“Look. At. This!” Angie hissed. She reached under her top and pulled out an amulet necklace. The gem in the centerpiece glowed as it passed near Quinn face. “This is a defensive charm! A very powerful one too: more powerful than you, more than her, more than almost any witch or wizard on record in this city right now! It was supposed to invert her spell back through her!”



“So, what, you think would’ve been fine without me?” Quinn sneered.



”More than fine! I actually had a plan instead of running around taking cheap shots!”



Quinn averted her eyes, faltering slightly but staying inflexible. “S-so what? I took care of her just as well!”



“No you didn’t!” Angie yelled. Quinn looked at her, surprised. “My way would’ve reversed the assimilations she already performed! All the girls she assimilated would’ve been released! Instead, you turned her and every enhancement she had into solid plastic!”



“I did what?” Quinn said, before catching herself. “I-I mean… so?”



Angie facepalmed. “Sequential transformations tend to diminish preexisting ones!” The young witch looked at her in confusion, though realization was slowly dawning on her face. To help it sink in, Angie shoved the doll at her while pointing to each of its idealized plastic curves. “If you’d been paying attention, you’d know that Amelia was transforming people and adding them to her body! That means that there’s at least four people inside this doll with our witch, and there's no longer an easy way to separate them!”



“You mean…” Quinn gasped. Finally, her bluster fell apart. She covered her mouth in shock, and stared wide-eyed at the doll. “They’re… oh. Oh my god… they’re stuck in there!" She ran her hands through her hair, as tears appeared in the edge of her eyes. "I knew they were in there, but I didn’t realize! Why didn’t I... how could I…”



But Angie wasn’t done. “Now they’re trapped inside someone who, themselves, was transformed into an inanimate object.” Angie said slowly, spelling it out like she would to a child. “Do you know how dangerous a state that is to be in? As it is, we’ll have to undo the transformation on the 'psycho' entirely, and I hope you weren’t going all out because I’ve heard horror stories about how thorough your magic can be when you’re in a state…”



She had more, but Quinn was no longer listening. Whatever Angie hoping the results of her lecture would be, what happened next was above and beyond.



At the word “thorough,” it was like someone threw a switch. Quinn seemed to just shut down. From self-righteous a minute before, she now completely crumpled. She fekk to her knees and threw her head into her hands.



“W-what have I done?!” She cried. “What’s wrong with me?”



Angie stared awkwardly at the display. This sudden turn was a surprise, but it also made it hard to stay angry. She searched her jacket and pulled out a handkerchief - one of those upscale, monogrammed kinds. Looking rich and glitzy helped with the ’sorority big sister’ disguise.



“Now hold on…” She reached down and tried to hand the handkerchief to the keening girl, but it went ignored.



“Why did I think I could ever help anyone with this awful power?” Quinn sobbed. Angie couldn't remember the last time she saw someone break down this much, at least without having been turned into an object themselves.



“Look, I’m sorry I was so harsh.” Angie tried to say. “It’s not quite as bad as I’m making it out to be. Much. Don't be so hard on yourself.”



But she still wasn’t getting through. “T-they’ll never for… forgive me!” Quinn continued on. “I… I’m j-just as bad as she was! I d-deserve to be… deserve to be… to be… to...”



Suddenly, Quinn stopped. Completely stopped. Her whole body suddenly froze up, as if stuck in a block of ice, and then went totally slack. Her eyes seemed to cloud, and she stared blankly into space. She was barely even breathing, except in short spurts every few seconds. It was a troubling change: Angie had seen effects like that happening due to a spell - hypnosis, possession, that sort of thing - but this didn’t seem to have a source at all.



She racked her brains to try and remember the young witch’s history, and slapped her forehead as she realized both what was going on and who the “she” Quinn mentioned must have been. Without any other ideas, she grabbed the coed by the shoulders and started shaking her. It probably wasn’t the safest way to bring her out of it, but it was the only way she knew.



“Hello? Kid? Quinn?! Snap out of it!!”



Quinn blinked rapidly, as if coming out of a trance. Now Angie was really concerned. “Oh. S-sorry.” She said, with eerie calm. “That doesn’t usually happen. And also, I’m sorry for…” She glanced down at the doll.



Though she as incredibly weirded out, Angie was willing to let it pass. “Don’t mention it, I guess.” She said awkwardly. “As I was trying to tell you, I’m sorry too. I flew off the handle.” The girl stared at her with a spacey expression that might have been confusion. “Don’t get me wrong,” Angie said sharply. No need to get soft. “You messed up, but it’s not that bad. All we have to do is take Barbie here to a few wizards I know, have her reverted in a safe space and then bring all the people she absorbed back one at a time. It’ll take longer, and with the state you left her in I mean a lot longer, but it can still be done.”



“I see,” Quinn said tonelessly, with a lot more serenity than would have been normal even in regular circumstances. “It’s good that it can be worked out, then.”



“… o…kay.” Angie said, eyeing her nervously. She was starting to thin it was time to make a judgment call.



She grabbed the young witch’s arm and yanked her to her feet. Despite being jostled around, Quinn’s expression failed to change at all. “You want a coffee or something? You look like you need a coffee…”



_____ _____



They soon relocated to Angie’s agency: it was beat down old office, but it was probably more comfortable than damp sidewalk. Angie quickly dipped into her bathroom to change out of the ridiculous sorority getup, leaving Quinn with the food they picked up on the way. When she returned Quinn was seated timidly in the client’s seat, since the detective's chair was the only other chair in the room: an design oversight that Angie figured she should probably correct. After all, the chair across the desk was strictly supposed to be for people who needed her.



Though with her luck, she might just end up with another poor, unfortunate kid stuck as an (incredibly expensive) wooden chair. Stores never seemed to believe stories like that when refunds were concerned.



Quinn was on her second cup of coffee and seemed to be doing a little better. At least, she was no longer creeping Angie out with the emotionless act, though she still seemed withdrawn and quiet. Most of all, she just looked ashamed. She could barely look Angie in the eye. So the burden of getting a conversation started fell on the detective.



“So… how did you find out about all this anyway?” Angie asked, spinning their witch-turned-doll around in her hand like a pencil.



Quinn swirled her coffee around in her cup. “A friend of mine has a little sister in that sorority. Her name is Keisha. Were were kinda close, until she up and disappeared like the others. I couldn’t just do nothing about it.”



Angie stared at her, skeptical. Not that she couldn't believe the motivation, but the thought process left a lot to be desired. “…you do realize that by turning Amelia into a doll, you would’ve just left your friend’s cousin trapped anyway? In an even worse position, to boot.”



Quinn closed her eyes tightly. “I wasn't thinking. I… have a lot of apologies to give.” She finally looked up - still sheepish, but getting more comfortable talking. “How did you find out?”



“To be honest, at first I was trying to protect her!” Angie said, laughing bitterly.



When Quinn gave her an alarmed look, Angie smirked. “Have you ever heard of Love Enhanced, Enterprises?” Quinn shook her head. “Good. I’d be surprised and a little concerned if you had. On the outside they look like a trendy start-up, specializing in selling custom… shall we say… ‘bedroom aids’ to wealthy clientele.”



“Wait,” Quinn shuddered, sticking her tongue out. “You mean… eeugh!”



Angie shrugged. “Usually I’d say ‘don’t knock it,’ but it gets better. What they actually are is a company made up of dirty hotshot wizards and mad scientists trying to make big bucks by kidnapping people - mostly women - and transforming them into high quality sex toys. Usually uncannily ‘lifelike’ plastic love dolls and toys, which they then sell to unsuspecting idiots with too much money. To the untrained eye their dolls are just beautiful and realistic, and sell like hotcakes to certain...” She paused, noticing the creeped out look on Quinn’s face. “…well, you get the idea. Of course, nobody ever figures out where all the missing women have gone.”



Quinn gripped her fist tightly against her chair. Her nails dug into the wood. Angie winced, as that was the only other chair she had. “That’s… that’s monstrous!” Quinn choked out. “How long have they been doing this? H-have they taken anyone I know?”



“Calm down, girl,” Angie said quickly, waving her hand as if it were no big thing. “They haven’t been at it long. And thanks to me, they haven’t had anywhere near the success they thought they would. I caught onto them pretty early. Now they’re broke and the operation is falling apart.”



Quinn sighed in relief and threw herself back in the chair, taking a few deep breaths to ease herself. Angie quietly took note how quickly the girl jumped to fury: she was definitely an interesting case. Then she shook the thought out of her head.



The use of her client chair was obviously confusing her: this girl absolutely was not a case. She wasn’t going to get involved. She was just making sure an unstable mini-sorceress didn’t have a potentially dangerous nervous breakdown. This was in the name of preventing future magical disaster.



“So I’ve got them on the ropes, but they’re still out there.” She continued once Quinn was ready. “I thought the disappearances meant that maybe they were getting desperate and preying on you college girls.”



“If only.” Quinn snorted.



“Actually, I was right. Sort of.” She said, and she felt a bit of satisfaction when Quinn gasped. “They were looking into the school, but mostly because of Barbie here’s perky new figure.” She dropped the doll onto the desk like trash, making a mental note not to bury it under paperwork like the last “victim” she stored in the office. ”The transformation from flesh to latex usually results in some exaggerated assets anyway - you should see the tits on some of the dolls I’ve rescued, it’s really shameless - but its easier if their target is buxom to start with. So I chased them away from her, and thought that was it. But people kept vanishing, so I looked closer.”



Quinn scowled. “If sleaze balls like that plan to take anyone else on my campus, they had better watch out!”



“Trust me, these guys aren’t that good at their jobs.” Angie said with a smile. “They fold whenever they meet anyone who can fight back. Knowing what I do now, I’m pretty sure Amelia could’ve taken them easy.” She laughed at the thought. “I mean, I can take them easy and I can’t even use magic.”



Quinn tried to imagine a single normal detective beating up an entire roomful of experienced wizards and laughed as well, despite her poor mood. “Then they must really hate you.”



“You don’t know the half of it, girlie!”



Both Quinn and Angie snapped to the door in surprise, as a new voice entered the room. A gang of men in business suits burst through the door, which had been carelessly left ajar. Angie would take the blame for that one.



The thug in front, the one who had shouted, swiped his hand twice as soon as he had line of sight: a move that never meant anything good when magic was involved. Quinn yelled in surprise - her first ambush, no doubt - but Angie was already at her feet. She knew the spells would be too fast to completely avoid, but she was still sure they had time.



Usually in her experience, transformations of this type were subtle. They started with small things - the skin turns an odd sheen, the victim feels oddly buoyant and lightheaded. Often, potions or serums were put inside something the victim thought was innocent: soap, shampoo, a flu shot, the burger they had for lunch. Only once the change had fully crept into the body would the intensity pick up. That glossy skin would turn thin and plastic, limbs would become hollow and forcibly bend into the final pose of the poor victims’ lives, lips ajar and eyes blank. Then finally, their minds would be overwhelmed with incredible pleasure until human thought was washed away entirely.



It was a terrible fate, slow and ruthless. But that way, the victim wouldn’t realize what was happening to them until it was too late. If properly timed, the perpetrators could transform a target on the sly and pick them up later without a trace. But these men were not interested in being subtle. They wanted to send a message. Angie knew the spells the head thug shot at the two women would likely transform them into love dolls - or worse - within minutes, or even less. But neither she nor her young friend were so easily cursed.



Quinn’s spell made contact first. She had instinctively scooted back into her seat and cast the first defensive spell that came to mind, so when she felt the curse hit her all she had to do was push and the transformation bounced away from her. A moment later, the spell directed at Angie hit as well. But it just harmlessly bounced off of her amulet without Angie needing to do anything, which earned the infuriated thugs a good mocking.



The detective made a show of dusting herself off, just to piss their attackers off further - but her victory pose lost some thunder when she looked at Quinn. The girl hadn’t gotten away quite as clean as Angie did: most of the transformation was reflected in time, but the change still took one of her arms and part of her chest, changing both into shiny, off-color latex. Her arm bent at a 90 degree angle by itself, palm twisted and fingers out, and it squeaked softly when she tried to move it. More embarrassingly, one of the unfortunate coed's breasts had blown up to twice the size of the the other and was clearly hollow with air.



Quinn stared down at herself in horror. Angie tried not to groan out loud. It would only encourage them.



“Nice job,” Angie said to Quinn, trying to sound supportive but not quite making it. It isn’t easy to sugarcoat having any part of oneself dolled and inflated. Angie knew it was a terrifying experience, and she wasn’t surprised when she didn’t get a response. “A little sloppy, but for a kid who just started you’ve got some chops!”



The head thug growled. “She won’t be able to do that a second time, not with that hand.” He tried to laugh it off, but his men seemed a little too nervous to join in.



“Yeah, right.” Angie smirked. “A witch this talented, made powerless by a few rubber fingers?” She laughed haughtily and turned to Quinn. This time, her encouraging words were closer to the mark. “Like I said, these guys are easy! If we work together we could probably get ‘em to the proper authorities before breakfast!”



It was quite a rousing action speech. Angie was almost a little proud, since she usually wasn’t very good at those. But unfortunately, she found yet again that Quinn was not listening.



Instead, the girl suddenly leapt to her feet. Her teeth were grit. Her eyes were bulging out of her head as she stared at her latex arm. She tried flexing it, but it only returned to that same doll-like position the moment she stopped tensing what passed for “muscle.” Painfully slow, she turned her head to the thug who cast the spell. And if her ragged breathing was any indication, seeing his face only made things worse.



“W-what the hell did you do to me?!”



From what little she saw, Quinn wasn't the type to be flashy. Unlike Amelia, but like many magic users with experience Angie knew, Quinn kept her power mostly invisible. But now the air was boiling around her as she shook with anger. It felt like something out of a movie.



Quinn’s voice quavered with wild, barely controlled emotion. “I… will not… be made… into a thing! Never!”



Angie gulped. “If, on the other hand, you explode in a blaze of glory…”



The thugs took a step back, too little too late. So did Angie, though she supposed she had much less to worry about. Better safe than sorry.



“NEVER AGAIN!”



“Shit!”



Angie dove out of the way just in time for a massive spell to burst across the room, shooting like lightning through the door and filling the hallway outside. She ducked behind a desk and kept her head down. It was over as quick as it began, but when she looked up again all the thugs were gone.



All that was left were a few tattered pieces of paper, each with a picture of a person sketched in great detail, frozen in horror. Angie stared at the carnage, momentarily unable to say anything. There was zero trace that anyone besides the two of them had ever been in the room.



“That’s… impressive.” She finally said. Her floor fan blew what was left of some of the thugs across the floor. “Scary impressive.”



But even though the fight was over, the damage was done. Quinn was still hyperventilating, and on the verge of tears again. She threw her latex arm into Angie’s face, screaming wildly. “HOW DO I GET THIS OFF OF ME?”



“Calm down!” Angie said sharply. “You’re a witch, remember? You know what to do.”



“I what? I… right...” She swallowed hard, trying to force herself to stop. “S-sorry, I just…”



“Hey, with what you’ve been through, I get it.” Angie said. “Three years as a bikini, huh?”



Quinn didn’t look at her. She focused on her arm, which twitched briefly. Then the latex slowly turned back into skin. Her one inflated breast shrunk, hollow plastic and air now good old fashioned mammary tissue again. She was fully human once more, and only once that was done did she respond to Angie’s question. It was just a simple nod, but it was probably better than nothing.



“Must’ve been a hell of an trial,” Angie went on. She was going for more encouragement, though she wasn’t sure it was working. “I have to admire the way you taught yourself how to get payback like that. Most people couldn’t have done that. Not even I-”



Suddenly the girl was in her face, staring into Angie’s eyes with tortured eyes that shocked the detective silent. “And where were you?” She shouted.



Angie only stared at her, and Quinn quickly turned away. She looked down again, nervously. “I… I’m sorry, it’s just… it’s your job to fix horrible things like this, isn’t it? So why didn’t you fix me?” Here came the tears. Angie was not feeling equipped to handle this, especially if she shut down again. “I was in that closet for years. Hanging in the dark, or wrapped around that bitch’s selfish waist. Couldn’t someone have come? Anyone?”



Angie sighed. She didn’t always show it, but she would always understand that resentment. She would always empathize with where it came from. Those exact same feelings were the reason why she became a detective in the first place.



She put her hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “The sad fact is,” she said glumly, “when most people get screwed over by magic, nobody ever finds out. They just disappear. And some sociopathic witch or oblivious schmuck gets some new shoes, or a new pet, or a free boob job.” She picked up the Amelia-doll again to make her point.



Quinn glanced at it for a moment, letting Angie’s words sink in, then turned away with another sob.



“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Angie continued, and it was genuine. Quinn wasn’t wrong. People like the girl standing in front of her were her job. It shouldn’t have happened. And maybe that made this worth getting involved with after all. “But, and please don’t take this how it sounds, if it wasn’t you it would’ve been someone else. That’s why I do what I do. But I can’t save everybody. I wish I could.”



Quinn stared at her arm again. Despite her hand being perfectly normal again, she kept tensing it over and over, wondering something unreadable. Then all at once she sank back into the chair. “I’m a mess!” she said quietly. She was no longer crying, but this didn’t seem better. The look on her face was so pathetic that it made Angie depressed just to look at it.



“Flying off the handle.” Quinn went on miserably. “Transforming people without thinking. Literally losing my mind. I should’ve just faded away in that closet, like a good little bikini.” She sighed deeply and put her head in her hands. “Things would’ve been so much easier.”



If only Angie could say this was the saddest display she had ever seen. But it was close, and she was at a loss for how to be sympathetic. There was only one thing she could think of to say, and she didn't really want to say it. And that meant she really, really wished she could think of anything else, or even just bring herself to say nothing. But just from looking at the girl sitting there, she knew she had no other choice. That chair was for people who needed her, after all.



“H-hey!” She said, plastering a very fake smile onto her face. “Crazy idea: do you want a job?”



Quinn looked up at her, with a raised, cynical eyebrow. It almost looked like she hadn’t just been having a breakdown. “A what?” She said, dubious.



“A job!” The smile was getting even faker, and while Quinn didn’t seem to notice it would probably break her face in two soon. “Someone’s got to show you the ropes! Might as well be me! I’ve been…” She twitched involuntarily, but with great effort forced herself to continue. “… looking for an as-assistant for a while…”



It was a filthy lie. She hated working with other people, but Quinn obviously didn’t need to know that, and didn’t catch on either.



“And what would I have to do?” She replied, still a bit confused.



“Oh, you know.” Angie shrugged, as if dealing with crazy people trying to turn her into a bimbo or a statue or underwear every other day hadn’t made her life complete insanity. “We solve mysteries. We return transformed people to normal, or at least find them closure. Then we get zero credit and get paid way less than we deserve.”



Quinn stared at Angie for a long time, thinking deeply about the opportunity. It sounded crazy, but crazy was what her life had been ever since she randomly met Henrietta Bynder on the beach three years ago. Now, all she had wanted was to be able to do something about it. She knew the thought consumed her, sometimes. She knew it wasn’t healthy. But it was possible that this was finally her chance.



It took a while, but Angie could see her come to a decision just from the smile. From that, she knew what Quinn’s answer was going to be before she even spoke. “Sure. Can’t be worse than what I’m doing now.”



Angie grinned, and surprised herself by actually meaning it. “Excellent! You’re officially hired.” She shook Quinn’s hand, making a mental note to put an “incorporated” sign on her door. “But call yourself Watson and you’re fired.” It was a joke, probably, but it got Quinn to laugh. Angie still had no idea how she was going to work, but it seemed like the right thing to do.



Quinn already looked better, like she was newly invigorated. She pulled herself out of the seat and wiped her tears away, as if they had never been there. “Okay, so what’s first?”



“First?” Angie looked around the room, and settled on the doll that used to be Amelia. “I can probably take you to meet those friends I was talking about, so we can get Amelia's victims restored.” She picked up the doll and pocketed it. The residual magic inside made her amulet glow slightly. “They can send our 'assassins' to the proper authorities too.” She said, referring to the tattered pieces of paper that used to be Love Enhanced muscle. “Your first official job as assistant will probably be to sweep the lot of them up.”



Quinn pulled a face - there was no escaping chores, though to be fair she did create the problem in the first place. But Angie wasn’t looking. While Quinn contemplated the use of Angie's tattered, criminally unused broom, she had inched over to the window behind her desk and peered outside, at the street. A second later, she sharply pulled her head back.



“Unofficially, though?" She continued. "I spy a suspicious looking Love Enhanced van parked out there, probably waiting for their boys to finish us off, deflate us and box us up for delivery. Possibly with a little ‘fun’ in the middle. They usually don’t - contaminating the merchandise is bad for business - but they really hate me.” Quinn turned green, but Angie just smiled. “Knowing Love Enhanced, there’s probably a half dozen other poor dolls in the back for delivery, just waiting to be returned to flesh and blood.” She readjusted her amulet, feeling the sense of security as it flashed in preparation for action. Slowly realizing what they were about to do, Quinn also flushed with excitement.



“How about it? Want to pay them a visit?”



Quinn nodded eagerly and, with a quick thumbs up, quickly followed Angie out of the office. As she tried to think of the perfect spell for surprising, and terrifying, the unsuspecting crooks outside, she knew she was still enjoying this more than she probably should. Especially with the kind of ideas she was thinking of. But for once, it felt like these were things she could actually work on.



She grinned, just to herself. This was looking like the start of a very interesting relationship…