As the night passed, Daz drank and smoked while trying to keep her memories in order, but...as the night passed and her mind floated in a marijuana and booze induced fog, she began to have a hard rime...seperating her facts...from the induced falsehoods. In fact, she began to wonder what was supposed to be fake. She drank and staired at herself in the mirror. Had she ever looked different? Had she really?
Well...maybe when she'd been a stupid kid, before she wised up an' swapped her collage money fer a set o' fat tits, an' her big, full lips. Gods, she loved her lips! The dead, sensationless quality of her lips excited her, and she knew she'd soon be dropping by Doctor Gomez again fer another fill-up of colligen. After all, her lips wern't quite big enough for her tastes. She raised a tube of black lipstick and moaned in drunken extacy as she swooped and looped the waxy coating up and over the impossible contours of her perfectly inflated, pouting lips. She smiled at her reflection, and raised abottle of Tanqueray to her lips. She licked and sucked the bottle...noticing for the first time just how many piercings were studded into her flesh. So many in her ears...eyebrows...lips....the silver chain that ran from her right ear to her right nostril...
She drifted off into a dreamy, drug-induced sleep. In her dreams, she screamed...but the screaming had stopped by morning. When she woke, she felt...wonderful. A little hungover, but she always enjoyed that feeling. It was a pleasant reminder of how her night went. She rolled out of bed, slipped on her catseye glasses with a giggle, and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Wild. She looked wild. She scooped her huge breasts and rolled her fat nipples between her finders, the tree-inch nails glinting. She wiggled her tongue lavishly through her thick, pouting lips - tongue piercings glinting. She felt good. She felt right. She felt like a sleazy, scarcely intelligent slut who sucked dick for 20 and fucked for 40.
In other words, she felt perfectly normal.
In her room, Missy Merlin began her usual morning excersizes, flexing and arching and stretching the same as she always did. Her fantasy of being a normal little boy was quite forgotten. She preened and posed as she ran through her sets, her pristine, porcelain cuteness more apparent than ever. What did it matter that had never been to a regular school? What did it matter if she could scarcely read, write or do anything by basic math? Such things were - and always would be - as nothing before the all-encompassing juggernaut that was her devotion to BALLET! She cared for nothing but ballet, and being a sweet, loving daughter. She knew she'd be the darling of the theatre once she was old enough, already having a standing offer to perform with the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo and had been promised the position of Prima ballerina assoluta with the Royal Ballet of Covent Gardens as soon as she turned 14. But...she wanted to hold out for France. She wanted desperately to perform in Paris...to speak French...to be the toast of Opera Garnier and Theatre du Chatelet.
Her mother knocked on her door, and asked "Missy?"
"Good morning, Mother." she said sweetly. "I'm doing my excersizes. May I help you prepare breakfast?"
Minutes later, Missy - her shining blond hair bound into a bun and her tiny frame wrapped in a lacy apron - pranced about the kitchen and helped her mother make brakefast. She lived in the eyes of others, and when her mother looked at her with those "I love you" eyes, she loved herself just as much. She dearly enjoyed her position as...
"Momma's...Lil Princess..." slurred Daz as she stumbled into the room and slumped into a chair. She sneared at her hated, perfect sister and Missy wiggled her long, pierced tongue at her through her fat, black lips. To Missy, it looked like a pink worm wriggling from a rotton fruit.
"Behave yourself, Daisy." said her mother quietly.
"Fuck you, mother..." she drawled with poisonous ease, lighting a cigarette and sending a plume of smoke from her nose. "...jus' fuck you an' fuck yer fuckin' princess an' her snotty fuckin' 'I'm-better-than-you' act."
Missy said nothing at all about this. She didn't even seem to notice that Daz - a creature she sometimes called "The Gargoyle" when speaking to Jon - was speaking about her. As far as Missy was concerned, Daz was a monster and that was that. She sent Daz a quick, imperious little smile, then said "The biskets are done, mother."
Daz - ignored by both her targets - brooded in silence and buttered one of Missys biskets. It was light, fluffy and delicious. It was perfect...just like Missy. Daz fumed as Missy pranced about like a show pony, until finally she snarled "Ah, fuck this place! I'm goin' to Dennys."
Missy smiled and said "Bye, Daisy." with a flash of triumph. Her mother - so proud of her - kissed Missy on the cheek.
Jon passed Daz in the living room, and asked "Hey, what did you mean about...what you said last night?"
Daz looked at Jon with unsteady eyes, then shook her head. She fussed her beehive hairdo into place, and muttered "Fucked if I know, bro. I was kinda bombed last night. You 'member anythin' o' what I said?"
"That you'd wished for something, and you'd gotten it, or something like that."
Daz blinked, then shook her haed "I don' 'member, bro. I think...I don' 'member at all. I was totally wasted."
Jon laid his hand on her shoulder, then asked "Did you have a fight with mom or Missy? Both, maybe?"
She looked away, then said with tears beading in her eyes "She's such a perfect lil' bitch, an' mom loves her so much. Dammit, I was here first! Mom had ME first, and she never gave me half th' attention she wastes on that lil' fuckin' cunt! She's...such a perfect, little snot an' I'm jus' a fuckup...but at least I went to a REAL school! She's never even...aw, fuck it."
Jon watchd as Daz stumbled out the door and drove off, thinking that something HAD to be wrong about her sisters...but they were both just as he remembered them. Had they both used the stone and screwed themselves up some how? He raised the stone in his hands, and decided to make a simple, little wish. Something safe and easy.
"I wish..." ha said, still unaware that his Wishing Stone was actually the Humiliation Stone. That the stone would twist any faint seed of a loop hole into a nightmare.
