Talia stared at the mirror, her heart racing. "But, I don't understand," she protested, her voice trembling. "What just happened to me?" The face in the mirror grew more serious, the green eyes piercing into hers. "The ring in your bellybutton is a conduit to the power of Hecate, the goddess of the moon, magic, and crossroads. By putting it on you you claim the power that has been passed down through generations of witches!"
"Witches? What the fuck do you mean, witches?" Talia's voice was a mix of fear and incredulity, but the woman's image remained unfazed.
"The ring in your bellybutton, you claimed it powers, child," the woman's voice grew stronger, the whispers of the sea seemingly backing her words. "You are longer a human, but a witch!"
"Do I look like a witch to you?" Talia giggled, "I am fucking HOT! Not to mention fucking muscular!" She flex her impressive biceps. "Witches are old and ugly, not... not sexy hot like me!"
The face in the mirror smugly corrected her. "Witches, my dear, have always been the epitome of sex appeal, power, and youth. The old hag stereotype was a ploy, a way to keep the truth hidden from those who would seek to control us." Her lips curled into a knowing smile. "We are the embodiment of the divine feminine, feared and desired in equal measure."
Talia raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "So, what you're saying is, witches are actually good?" she asked, a bit confused.
The face in the mirror giggled, a sound that was both enchanting and slightly unnerving. "Good? Oh no, dear," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Witches are as bad as they come. We're selfish, manipulative, and we take what we want without apology. But," she added with a wink, "that doesn't mean we can't have a bit of fun along the way."
Talia's eyes narrowed. "So, I'm...what? Some kind of villain now? Like I suppose to eat kids and kidnapping princesses?" The face in the mirror tilted to the side, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
"Villain, heroine...those are human concepts, my dear," she said, her voice like velvet. "Witches are beyond such trivial labels. We do as we please, and the world bends to our will. And let me tell you, it's so much more exciting this way." Her green eyes glinted, and for a moment, Talia could see the flames of a thousand candles dancing in their depths.
"OK... I can understand the sexy part of this body... but why the muscles?" Talia asked, flexing her new bicep, watching the light dance over the bulging muscles.
The mirror face's smile grew wider. "Your body isn't just for show, my dear," she said, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark. "You're now imbued with the strength of a hundred men. Why don't you give it a try?"
Talia looked around the room, her eyes settling on the heavy four-poster bed that dominated the space. "Lift that?" she scoffed. "You've got to be kidding me." But there was a part of her, a tiny voice deep down, that was curious. Could she really be this powerful?
The mirror face's smile grew even wider. "Oh, I assure you, you can. And it's not just for show." With a wave of her hand, the reflection gestured to the bed. "Go on. Show me what you're made of."
Talia rolled her eyes, but the challenge intrigued her. She took a step towards the massive piece of furniture and placed her hands under one of the posts. "Alright, fine," she murmured. She took a deep breath and focused all her newfound strength into her arms. With a grunt that was more for show than effort, she began to lift. To her utter astonishment, the bed began to rise. The heavy wooden frame hovered in the air as if it were made of feathers. "Oh my God," she gasped, her eyes wide with wonder.
The mirror witch's laughter filled the room as Talia raised the bed higher, her arms flexing with the effortless ease of a seasoned weightlifter. The muscles in her biceps bulged, and she felt a thrill of power shoot through her. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and her breath grew shorter with each inch the bed ascended. The fabric of the swimsuit stretched taut across her body, accentuating her new, powerful form.
Her arousal grew with each passing moment, the sensation of her strength turning into a delicious ache between her legs. She couldn't help but let out a low moan as the bed reached the ceiling, her muscles quivering with exertion. The fabric of her suit was damp with desire, the scent of her arousal mingling with the salty ocean air. She could feel the eyes of the mirror witch on her, watching with amusement and approval.
With a dramatic flourish, Talia lowered the bed back to the floor, the mattress thudding against the wood with surprising gentleness. "Alright, I'm convinced," she said, a smug smile playing on her lips, flexing her buff arms.
The face in the mirror beckoned her with a sly wink. "Come, my dear, let's see how deep the rabbit hole goes," it said, "Go to the bathroom, place your finger on the granite countertop, and press down with all the might you've just discovered."
Talia's heart raced with excitement. She strutted over to the bathroom, her stiletto heels clicking against the cool marble floor. The granite counter was a gleaming slab of cold hardness, a stark contrast to the warmth of her skin. She placed her index finger, black nail, onto the counter's surface. It felt solid, unyielding, like the very essence of the earth itself.
With a smug smile, she pushed down, channeling the newfound power that pulsed through her veins. The anticipation was intoxicating, a thrill that made her entire body tingle. And then, as if the stone had been no more than fine china, the countertop began to crack. The cracks spider-webbed out from beneath her finger, racing across the surface like lightning on a stormy night. She applied more pressure, and the granite groaned, the sound echoing in the quiet room.
The mirror witch's eyes gleamed with approval as the countertop split, the sound of fracturing stone a symphony of power. Talia's finger sank into the now marred surface, leaving an indentation the size of a small crater. She felt a rush of exhilaration, a heady mix of fear and excitement as she realized the extent of her strength.
"Like what else can I do?" Talia asked with childish excitement. The mirror witch's eyes narrowed, her smile curving into something more predatory.
"Why don't you try cutting yourself?" she suggested, her tone as smooth as the shattered glass around them. Talia's heart skipped a beat. She'd seen enough movies to know that was never a good sign. But the woman's confidence was contagious, and she found herself reaching for the knife she'd used to cut her sandwich earlier.
With trembling hands, she pressed the blade to the tender flesh of her forearm, watching as it sliced through the air. But when the metal met her skin, she felt nothing. No pain, no resistance—just a faint warmth that was more soothing than alarming. She stared, dumbfounded, as the knife slid away, leaving not even a mark.
"Only magic can harm you now," the mirror witch purred, a hint of mischief in her voice. "You are invincible to the mundane."
Talia stared at the unblemished flesh on her forearm, the knife still hovering dangerously close. The realization sank in, and she felt a thrill of excitement and terror. The mirror had called her a "daughter of the moon," a being beyond human limitations. It was a heady feeling, intoxicating like the most potent cocktail. She looked at the knife with new eyes, a tool not of self-harm but of self-discovery. With a wicked smile she try to stab herself in the stomach, twisting the blade for dramatic effect. But again, she felt only warmth, no pain. The blade deformed as it hit her 8 pack abs, bending like it had struck a wall of steel.
"Like fucking WOW," Talia whispered, dropping the knife to the floor. It clattered against the tiles, forgotten as she reached down to trace her stomach, feeling the unyielding muscle beneath her fingers. She'd never felt so alive, so invincible. The mirror witch's smile grew wider, a knowing glint in her emerald eyes.
"OK, I am a FUCKING witch!" Talia smirked, "Now mirror, how like I am doing witch magic stuff?" Her heart hammered in her chest, a mix of excitement and fear.
The mirror witch's eyes gleamed. "Focus your mind, daughter of the moon," she instructed, her voice a sultry whisper that seemed to caress Talia's ears. "Imagine the power of the storm in your fingertips, the lightning that dances in the sky."
Talia took a deep breath, the salty air of the beach wafting through the open balcony door. She focused her thoughts, feeling the electricity build in her core. She pointed her index finger at the plush chair by the window. A bolt of blue lightning shot from her fingertip, the room's lighting flickering as the chair was propelled into the air. It hovered for a moment, then dropped to the floor with a thud, the fabric smoldering slightly.
"Oh my God," she breathed, staring at her hand in wonder. The mirror witch's smile grew wider. "You see, my dear? You are a natural."
"Can... can I fly a broomstick? I mean because I am a witch now, right?" Talia asked, her eyes sparkling with the excitement of a child on Christmas morning.
"Of course," the mirror witch purred.
"That is sooooo FUCKING AWESOME!!!"
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