Miss Darcy's Stables.

[tattcub]

Hi all,

It's been ages since I posted anything and this is a different type of story for me.

Sorry it's taken so long.

Might seem rushed in parts too and I apologise. I wanted to get it out there.

I did post a teaser of this a while back

Special thanks to the lovely Aardvark who helped with early edits and some great advice.

Hopefully I'll have more for you soon.

Cheers

Tattcub







NEW EDIT




My name, dear heart, is Miss Darcy.

I am an artist. I am a sculptress of destiny. I am passion, I am desire, I am a karmic razor.*

I am a complete bitch when I am feeling exceptionally fabulous.

I am also a witch, a rather good witch in fact. I believe in crime and punishment, and the principle of ‘what goes around, comes around.’ But, make no mistake, I am not a wicked person or a fury. The people I punish deserve it. In fact, anyone I deal with is generally the architect of their own, well - I don't think destruction is the right word here…let's say retribution, that's closer.

I don't punish the innocent. I reward them, whether they think they deserve it or not.

I have sisters all over the world. Some keep a low profile, and some don’t. One even set up a nightclub and is doing excellent work there, by all accounts. I am more of a free spirit than she. I drift from town to town, place to place. I go where I sense I am needed.

And today, I was needed in New York.

I was sitting at a small cafe, sipping a divine iced tea and watching the world go by. My attention was drawn to a luxurious car that the driver had just reversed into a parking space while talking on his mobile phone (dreadful things, those phones). You know his type, my dear: sharp suit, $300 haircut and a bad attitude. He didn't look properly and ended up hitting the delivery truck parked in the next bay. He stormed out of the car, marched straight to the truck and starting abusing the young driver who had literally only just started the engine.

The delivery boy - named Dwight, bless him - just stood there and flinched every now and again while he let the city boy unload his vitriolic rant.

Darlings, you have no idea how much poor manners anger this Georgia girl.

Now where was I?

Oh yes, poor little Dwight. Ill-fitting uniform and an equally ill-fitting body. He had a lot going for him: he was kind, friendly and generous to the core. A decent man. A boy blessed with heart of an angel and the body of a permanent teenager. Dwight was mid-twenties but definitely passed for 18 or 19. He still had the pale, sweaty complexion of a teenager, blemishes and all. His long, thin hair and heavy-framed spectacles really did nothing to reveal the boy’s delightful inner charm.He kept on pushing the heavy frames back up his long too pointed nose. He had no chin to speak of and what he did have wasn't visible as he kept his head bowed in submission to the obvious superior man he was dealing with. His skinny arms hung out of his too baggy short sleeved uniform shirt. They dangled there like to bits of string tied in a knot where the elbows should be. His legs were not much better. Oversized shorts with too big boots and pipe cleaner legs. Dwight couldn't fight his way out of a wet toilet paper bag. He was the quintessential wimp, the geek, the eternal teenager. Spotty face and spectacles and all. He was the sort of man who was eaten alive by the Alphas. Alphas like the one that was currently bellowing at him.

His opponent,the “Alpha” (Yes dear you can still hear the sarcasm in my voice) Wade Bradley, was red with fury and frothing at the mouth slightly. Through his fitted suit, it was clear that Wade had the nicely toned body of a man who could afford a personal trainer and had the dedication to back it up. He was good-looking, from his thick black hair to the clear blue eyes that surely brought the ladies to their knees. He matched these natural attributes with expensive shoes and a manicure, but the man – forgive my swearing – was a true asshole.

Something had to be done, and this is where I came in.

I decided I could play this in a few ways and decided that a cause-and-effect spell would be rather splendid here. I clutched the pendant round my neck and muttered a few arcane and mysterious phrases unheard of in this realm: “What you do, Wade, cannot be, you bring your own catastrophe. Dwight you now will be rewarded; Wade’s downfall means you will be applauded.”

What did you expect dear? I am a witch of quality, not a poet. The original translation rhymes much better. One has to work with what she has. And regardless, magic is all about the intent.

I settled back in my chair to watch the fun begin.

--------

Wade was certain he was in the right. He was a Bradley, dammit, so he was right by definition! A spoiled man who was used to getting his way.

“Goddammit, you geek! What the hell do you think you were doing, asshole?” he screamed into the face of the retard in the brown shorts, with stick-thin legs poking through their openings like string with knots for knees.

“S-ss—sorry s-sir,” said the peon, whose name tag read Dwight.*

“Dwight, is it?” Wade said in a condescending tone, “when I am finished with you, you won't have a license to push a toy cart around. Sorry just isn't good enough,” he continued, pointing his finger in the guys face. It satisfied him to see a red flush creeping up the guy’s neck onto his sallow cheeks. Good, Wade thought, satisfied that he had embarrassed the guy enough into believing it was his fault that the two vehicles had crashed and not Wade’s, even though Wade was the one who had been in the middle of a call to another girlfriend his wife had no idea about.

“You get paid to drive that hunk of junk, you should kn-know better!” He shouted as he waved an arrogant finger in Dwight’s face, his anger deafening him to his own mid-sentence stutter.

“Sir, I think it was your f-fault. I hadn't even started the van,” Dwight said clearly this time, surprised that he'd managed to get a word in edgewise and quite proud that his stutter had held back for the majority of the sentence. He was a PhD student and was really only doing this job part-time to help his parents who were paying his tuition. He didn't want them to struggle, so he did this job alongside the long hours of hitting the books and the test tubes.

He caught a brief flash of light and his eye was drawn for a second to a caf?, where a sensibly dressed lady was sipping iced tea and watching him rather intently. She smiled at him and raised her glass politely.

He felt dizzy for a moment, must be the heat and the embarrassment of this asshole having a go at him.

“Sir,” he said in a voice that was high and tremulous a few seconds ago, but now seemed rougher. It had a hint of decisiveness as well. “SIR!”

Wade was momentarily confused by the delivery guy’s rumbling voice...wasn't he just stuttering with the voice of a pencil neck? Not the bass boom he had just heard, which was a voice that demanded respect.

“S-ss-sir,” said Wade automatically. As he spoke it was almost as if an invisible needle had pricked him, deflating his huge ego just a little. He felt internally smaller, almost.

Dwight was holding a package in his skinny arms. The oversized sleeves of his uniform, hanging almost to his elbows, did nothing to enhance his look in any way. He glanced down at the package again and noticed the hairs on the back of his hands. He didn't have hair on his hands, did he? He barely had it anywhere...it was like his body had taken a quick look at puberty and waved it away to the next person in the queue.*

He stared at his hand. It seemed to swell. The fingers grew firm and calloused. He even noticed an unusual bulge of muscle on the meaty ball of his hand and thumb that only comes from years of heavy lifting. His eyes travelled up to his forearms, which were swelling too, filling with hard corded muscle. Massively thick and covered with the same black hair he'd noticed on his hands. Thick veins criss-crossed the monstrous forearms, flexing and swelling underneath the swarthy paper-thin skin. Next, Dwight felt the heavy swell of his biceps in the sleeves of his rapidly tightening uniform, filling the bursting material with thick, heavy, veined beef. The drop of the triceps underneath, with their perfectly-striated horseshoe shapes, completed the arms which revealed themselves as the overstretched material finally gave way with an audible rip. Dwight was left holding the package with the arms of a god.

The shredded sleeves receded further up as his shoulders started to flex out, raising the ruined shirt higher as it was pulled out of the uniform trousers. His delts grew and rounded out: perfect, round mounds of solid muscle that led to the traps. The traps started to grow, rapidly mounding up and swallowing Dwight’s thickening neck, going from a 15.5 to 21 inches in a few seconds, almost up to his ears in a monstrous triangle of beast-man muscle. The neck was a much more fitting home for his voice’s bassy thunder.

I tell you dears, this old girl is looking around her handbag for her fan.

Then, Dwight’s chest just unfolded from underneath his humongous traps. His pecs dropped out of his skin like two slabs overfilled with concrete. They literally tore what remained of his work shirt apart. Striated and huge with beautiful dark nipples, thickening and pointing ever downwards due to the vast shelf of immovable muscle behind them.

Dwight raised his hand and pointed at the somehow smaller lawyer. “You should have more respect mister, you never know who or what trouble you will run into, he boomed. “You ran into me, not the other way around.” His deep rumbling voice made his balls churn. He felt so good right now. So hot.

Dwight towered over the now much smaller Wade, who seemed to pull inwards a little more. Wade’s hair was a little more dishevelled, and his suit seem looser somehow.*

Wade’s mouth suddenly felt dry as the delivery guy turned the tables on him.*“Maybe it WAS my fault”,*Wade thought. The van driver was huge. Big muscle bulging out everywhere. Wade felt a twinge in his groin, his cock reacting to the driver’s sudden Alpha Male power that had gone unnoticed before. “Err...” Said the suddenly unsure Wade. “I'm s-sorry about the van” Wade was horrified. He hadn't meant to say anything to this monster. He might get hit or something. Something about the thought of being dominated by the uniformed hulk in front of him made his cock jump again. Blood seemed to be rushing to his dick and out of his brain. Again he had the feeling of getting shorter.

“What's going on? “ he said out loud and realised that his voice, like his body was now somehow smaller.
He couldn't think straight and felt confused and suddenly frightened. He remembered he was the one who had started the argument with the delivery guy but couldn't remember why. The man was so powerful he couldn't do anything except look up at the towering figure of muscle now looming above him.
He gulped as he looked at the guys huge traps and shoulders. The massive shelf of his pecs and the tightness of the waist. The guys back was beyond human and led to an ass that defied description except that it was the bubble but of all muscle bodies.
The mans legs showed through his uniform, perfectly form pillars of huge, male power.
Wade felt his now little dick get hard.
“I'm sorry sir” He whispered halfway between awe and terror.

Dwight shifted his huge bulk, all the muscle fighting for place with each other. His clothes stretched out a little more until he'd completed his transformation. Dwight realised what had been done to him as he marvelled at his beautiful vascular forearms and bunched and flexed his biceps in amazement. He also new who was responsible. He glanced over at the cafe for the strange lady. She sat there quite primly and once again raised her glass of tea to him. He tipped his hat and mouthed the words “Thank you ma'am” to her. She smiled at him. And then was gone.

Dwight looked down at Wade and saw that the little man was staring at him in amazement. He even noticed the slight bulge in the guys trousers.

“Do you like what you see, little man?” said the 290lb monster of muscle

“Y—yes S-ssir, I do.” came the reply.

“Are you sorry for your rudeness? “ He said

“Yes sir”

“Want to apologise ?”

“I am sorry sir.” Said the tiny Wade, no longer the big man.

Dwight flexed his biceps in front of him and assumed the famous crab position, His massive form jumped to attention through his uniform popping the top two buttons and ripping out the sleeves. His traps tried to crawl to the top of his head as his thick neck all but disappeared in the mountainous muscle.

Wade gasped and reached out a hand to touch Dwight and Dwight let him. He suddenly felt a wet patch and realised he'd shot his load then and there. He felt ashamed and confused.

Dwight smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

“No hard feelings little guy” said the mammoth man.

“I'll see you around” He turned and squeezed into his truck and was gone.

Wade stood there in the street with cum staining his oversized pants.

He had to find the guy again...

[Kit Werecat]

Simple, but elegantly done!

Bravo!

[arpeejay]

http://www.facebook.com/arpeejay

[Mdlftr]

I like Ms. Darcy.

Her name makes me think of "Mr. Darcy" from Jane Austen's books, but of course, they couldn't be related --- could they?

Good story!

Mdlftr

[convolution]

That was great
Cleanly described characters, simple effective muscle growth.

Thanks

[GlamRockCowboy]

Originally Posted by tattcub

Hi all,

It's been ages since I posted anything and this is a different type of story for me.

Sorry it's taken so long.

Might seem rushed in parts too and I apologise. I wanted to get it out there.

I did post a teaser of this a while back

Special thanks to the lovely Aardvark who helped with early edits and some great advice.

Hopefully I'll have more for you soon.

Cheers

Tattcub







NEW EDIT




My name, dear heart, is Miss Darcy.

I am an artist. I am a sculptress of destiny. I am passion, I am desire, I am a karmic razor.*

I am a complete bitch when I am feeling exceptionally fabulous.

I am also a witch, a rather good witch in fact. I believe in crime and punishment, and the principle of ?what goes around, comes around.? But, make no mistake, I am not a wicked person or a fury. The people I punish deserve it. In fact, anyone I deal with is generally the architect of their own, well - I don't think destruction is the right word here?let's say retribution, that's closer.

I don't punish the innocent. I reward them, whether they think they deserve it or not.

I have sisters all over the world. Some keep a low profile, and some don?t. One even set up a nightclub and is doing excellent work there, by all accounts. I am more of a free spirit than she. I drift from town to town, place to place. I go where I sense I am needed.

And today, I was needed in New York.

I was sitting at a small cafe, sipping a divine iced tea and watching the world go by. My attention was drawn to a luxurious car that the driver had just reversed into a parking space while talking on his mobile phone (dreadful things, those phones). You know his type, my dear: sharp suit, $300 haircut and a bad attitude. He didn't look properly and ended up hitting the delivery truck parked in the next bay. He stormed out of the car, marched straight to the truck and starting abusing the young driver who had literally only just started the engine.

The delivery boy - named Dwight, bless him - just stood there and flinched every now and again while he let the city boy unload his vitriolic rant.

Darlings, you have no idea how much poor manners anger this Georgia girl.

Now where was I?

Oh yes, poor little Dwight. Ill-fitting uniform and an equally ill-fitting body. He had a lot going for him: he was kind, friendly and generous to the core. A decent man. A boy blessed with heart of an angel and the body of a permanent teenager. Dwight was mid-twenties but definitely passed for 18 or 19. He still had the pale, sweaty complexion of a teenager, blemishes and all. His long, thin hair and heavy-framed spectacles really did nothing to reveal the boy?s delightful inner charm.He kept on pushing the heavy frames back up his long too pointed nose. He had no chin to speak of and what he did have wasn't visible as he kept his head bowed in submission to the obvious superior man he was dealing with. His skinny arms hung out of his too baggy short sleeved uniform shirt. They dangled there like to bits of string tied in a knot where the elbows should be. His legs were not much better. Oversized shorts with too big boots and pipe cleaner legs. Dwight couldn't fight his way out of a wet toilet paper bag. He was the quintessential wimp, the geek, the eternal teenager. Spotty face and spectacles and all. He was the sort of man who was eaten alive by the Alphas. Alphas like the one that was currently bellowing at him.

His opponent,the ?Alpha? (Yes dear you can still hear the sarcasm in my voice) Wade Bradley, was red with fury and frothing at the mouth slightly. Through his fitted suit, it was clear that Wade had the nicely toned body of a man who could afford a personal trainer and had the dedication to back it up. He was good-looking, from his thick black hair to the clear blue eyes that surely brought the ladies to their knees. He matched these natural attributes with expensive shoes and a manicure, but the man ? forgive my swearing ? was a true asshole.

Something had to be done, and this is where I came in.

I decided I could play this in a few ways and decided that a cause-and-effect spell would be rather splendid here. I clutched the pendant round my neck and muttered a few arcane and mysterious phrases unheard of in this realm: ?What you do, Wade, cannot be, you bring your own catastrophe. Dwight you now will be rewarded; Wade?s downfall means you will be applauded.?

What did you expect dear? I am a witch of quality, not a poet. The original translation rhymes much better. One has to work with what she has. And regardless, magic is all about the intent.

I settled back in my chair to watch the fun begin.

--------

Wade was certain he was in the right. He was a Bradley, dammit, so he was right by definition! A spoiled man who was used to getting his way.

?Goddammit, you geek! What the hell do you think you were doing, asshole?? he screamed into the face of the retard in the brown shorts, with stick-thin legs poking through their openings like string with knots for knees.

?S-ss?sorry s-sir,? said the peon, whose name tag read Dwight.*

?Dwight, is it?? Wade said in a condescending tone, ?when I am finished with you, you won't have a license to push a toy cart around. Sorry just isn't good enough,? he continued, pointing his finger in the guys face. It satisfied him to see a red flush creeping up the guy?s neck onto his sallow cheeks. Good, Wade thought, satisfied that he had embarrassed the guy enough into believing it was his fault that the two vehicles had crashed and not Wade?s, even though Wade was the one who had been in the middle of a call to another girlfriend his wife had no idea about.

?You get paid to drive that hunk of junk, you should kn-know better!? He shouted as he waved an arrogant finger in Dwight?s face, his anger deafening him to his own mid-sentence stutter.

?Sir, I think it was your f-fault. I hadn't even started the van,? Dwight said clearly this time, surprised that he'd managed to get a word in edgewise and quite proud that his stutter had held back for the majority of the sentence. He was a PhD student and was really only doing this job part-time to help his parents who were paying his tuition. He didn't want them to struggle, so he did this job alongside the long hours of hitting the books and the test tubes.

He caught a brief flash of light and his eye was drawn for a second to a caf?, where a sensibly dressed lady was sipping iced tea and watching him rather intently. She smiled at him and raised her glass politely.

He felt dizzy for a moment, must be the heat and the embarrassment of this asshole having a go at him.

?Sir,? he said in a voice that was high and tremulous a few seconds ago, but now seemed rougher. It had a hint of decisiveness as well. ?SIR!?

Wade was momentarily confused by the delivery guy?s rumbling voice...wasn't he just stuttering with the voice of a pencil neck? Not the bass boom he had just heard, which was a voice that demanded respect.

?S-ss-sir,? said Wade automatically. As he spoke it was almost as if an invisible needle had pricked him, deflating his huge ego just a little. He felt internally smaller, almost.

Dwight was holding a package in his skinny arms. The oversized sleeves of his uniform, hanging almost to his elbows, did nothing to enhance his look in any way. He glanced down at the package again and noticed the hairs on the back of his hands. He didn't have hair on his hands, did he? He barely had it anywhere...it was like his body had taken a quick look at puberty and waved it away to the next person in the queue.*

He stared at his hand. It seemed to swell. The fingers grew firm and calloused. He even noticed an unusual bulge of muscle on the meaty ball of his hand and thumb that only comes from years of heavy lifting. His eyes travelled up to his forearms, which were swelling too, filling with hard corded muscle. Massively thick and covered with the same black hair he'd noticed on his hands. Thick veins criss-crossed the monstrous forearms, flexing and swelling underneath the swarthy paper-thin skin. Next, Dwight felt the heavy swell of his biceps in the sleeves of his rapidly tightening uniform, filling the bursting material with thick, heavy, veined beef. The drop of the triceps underneath, with their perfectly-striated horseshoe shapes, completed the arms which revealed themselves as the overstretched material finally gave way with an audible rip. Dwight was left holding the package with the arms of a god.

The shredded sleeves receded further up as his shoulders started to flex out, raising the ruined shirt higher as it was pulled out of the uniform trousers. His delts grew and rounded out: perfect, round mounds of solid muscle that led to the traps. The traps started to grow, rapidly mounding up and swallowing Dwight?s thickening neck, going from a 15.5 to 21 inches in a few seconds, almost up to his ears in a monstrous triangle of beast-man muscle. The neck was a much more fitting home for his voice?s bassy thunder.

I tell you dears, this old girl is looking around her handbag for her fan.

Then, Dwight?s chest just unfolded from underneath his humongous traps. His pecs dropped out of his skin like two slabs overfilled with concrete. They literally tore what remained of his work shirt apart. Striated and huge with beautiful dark nipples, thickening and pointing ever downwards due to the vast shelf of immovable muscle behind them.

Dwight raised his hand and pointed at the somehow smaller lawyer. ?You should have more respect mister, you never know who or what trouble you will run into, he boomed. ?You ran into me, not the other way around.? His deep rumbling voice made his balls churn. He felt so good right now. So hot.

Dwight towered over the now much smaller Wade, who seemed to pull inwards a little more. Wade?s hair was a little more dishevelled, and his suit seem looser somehow.*

Wade?s mouth suddenly felt dry as the delivery guy turned the tables on him.*?Maybe it WAS my fault?,*Wade thought. The van driver was huge. Big muscle bulging out everywhere. Wade felt a twinge in his groin, his cock reacting to the driver?s sudden Alpha Male power that had gone unnoticed before. ?Err...? Said the suddenly unsure Wade. ?I'm s-sorry about the van? Wade was horrified. He hadn't meant to say anything to this monster. He might get hit or something. Something about the thought of being dominated by the uniformed hulk in front of him made his cock jump again. Blood seemed to be rushing to his dick and out of his brain. Again he had the feeling of getting shorter.

?What's going on? ? he said out loud and realised that his voice, like his body was now somehow smaller.
He couldn't think straight and felt confused and suddenly frightened. He remembered he was the one who had started the argument with the delivery guy but couldn't remember why. The man was so powerful he couldn't do anything except look up at the towering figure of muscle now looming above him.
He gulped as he looked at the guys huge traps and shoulders. The massive shelf of his pecs and the tightness of the waist. The guys back was beyond human and led to an ass that defied description except that it was the bubble but of all muscle bodies.
The mans legs showed through his uniform, perfectly form pillars of huge, male power.
Wade felt his now little dick get hard.
?I'm sorry sir? He whispered halfway between awe and terror.

Dwight shifted his huge bulk, all the muscle fighting for place with each other. His clothes stretched out a little more until he'd completed his transformation. Dwight realised what had been done to him as he marvelled at his beautiful vascular forearms and bunched and flexed his biceps in amazement. He also new who was responsible. He glanced over at the cafe for the strange lady. She sat there quite primly and once again raised her glass of tea to him. He tipped his hat and mouthed the words ?Thank you ma'am? to her. She smiled at him. And then was gone.

Dwight looked down at Wade and saw that the little man was staring at him in amazement. He even noticed the slight bulge in the guys trousers.

?Do you like what you see, little man?? said the 290lb monster of muscle

?Y?yes S-ssir, I do.? came the reply.

?Are you sorry for your rudeness? ? He said

?Yes sir?

?Want to apologise ??

?I am sorry sir.? Said the tiny Wade, no longer the big man.

Dwight flexed his biceps in front of him and assumed the famous crab position, His massive form jumped to attention through his uniform popping the top two buttons and ripping out the sleeves. His traps tried to crawl to the top of his head as his thick neck all but disappeared in the mountainous muscle.

Wade gasped and reached out a hand to touch Dwight and Dwight let him. He suddenly felt a wet patch and realised he'd shot his load then and there. He felt ashamed and confused.

Dwight smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

?No hard feelings little guy? said the mammoth man.

?I'll see you around? He turned and squeezed into his truck and was gone.

Wade stood there in the street with cum staining his oversized pants.

He had to find the guy again...

Is that last word in the title or caption meant to be "STABLES" or "TABLES"? Inquiring minds want to know! (From the context, given the fact that the lady was sitting in a bar, I can't help thinking it should be the latter!)

[tattcub]

Originally Posted by GlamRockCowboy

Is that last word in the title or caption meant to be "STABLES" or "TABLES"? Inquiring minds want to know! (From the context, given the fact that the lady was sitting in a bar, I can't help thinking it should be the latter!)

It's Stables.

There's something else going on.

More stories to follow with Miss Darcy and her Stable of Men. Watch this space.
Ish...

[tattcub]

https://www.google.co.uk/url?sa=i&rc...93544664154098

Sorry I just don't seem to be able to post an actual sodding pic properly...

I have such sights to show you!

TC

[convolution]

Frank McGrath ... excellent choice

[cutlerfan]

I agree Frank is a great choice. Please continue this story and/or stories along these lines. Thanks for sharing your talent man!

[tattcub]

Any suggestions where to go with this ?

Miss Darcy can be anywhere and anywhen she likes so the world's her Oyster...

[Darmani]

Well...I'm a fan of the conditional transformation you use here... so might I suggest

Miss Darcy is just sharing drinks with someone and senses their foul mood so she spells him to confess and hear about some holy roller type at work who's making the guy nervous and angry and miserable. Which he takes out on others. as a fix she makes it so everytime the jerk at work is aided by the guy in the bar the jerk becomes less a jerk and more an affable, easy going stud. But as with Pygmalion soon he's falling for the better man he's made.

Soon the jerk is sensually servile and pleasing and who ever he pleases seems to improve as well. A sort of what goes around comes around until finally at long last the jerk is seeing how lonely and lovelorn the guy is and then joins him. Up until now the guy has seen the changes in the jerk and the jerk inadevertantly improving others. Now he experiences it. he's less cynical and wounded more hopeful and less closed off. Soon they are that "perfect" couple with one becoming the other's fantasy and being happy as such with the observer only kinda aware it was different but not missing it?

Sorry too elaborate... simple.. simple



Okay during one of the many coastal snowstorms Darcy falls (off her broom?) and breaks an ankle. She's helped to a makeshift warming center where she sees a set of people with their worries and miseries AND the volunteers. And so her spells work out until she's down enough good to heal herself.. and then clear the storm.

At a museum a bored highschool tour group comes through with TA and various guardians. One of the gay parent guardians comments how he wishes everyone could experience the works. And so each display sort of comes to life and can act as an integration for each person interested. (a civil war scene and the kids are in uniform on either side shooting and getting to live and play out the scene and the lives of the individual, feel what it meant).
Naturally there are more... sensual displays. The rules of participating in a display are they are activated by tourguide or someone "refereeing" by reading the pamphlet or the plaque so someone gets to join or is pulled in to it. Kudos if you use a real life museum/display.

Inspired by a sudden stumbling of a cache of Tom of Finland stuff online just have her lower the inhibitions in an office and the servant slowly becomes more studly so he tops the men there to their enjoyment even s they do the typical stuff of sleeping with the secretary or making time with their girlfriend in the department.

Perhaps as a treat for an aching and overworked shift of laborers she sets up a sign to manor with pool and other delights and as they dash in the waters the men change to their sexual ideal and become more.. comfortable with each other.

A black undercover investigator on the scene of drug deal tracks money. Looks like the cops or someone big is involved. He's shot but Darcy gives him new life as a muscle vampire?

An all male family on a trip to beach resort or other 'you only go here for family outings' thing finds something for each of them and its changes them to not just their ideal but someone that helps them get along and the father finds new love with a previous subject of Darcy's magic.

Okay a decent one guy is dateless harried photographer. Helps Darcy, she enchants his camera. Any man he captures with it who's image he prints comes to life as his lover for the night. The finale is him photoshopping ideal guys of all shapes, ages and sizes into an orgy that concludes and vanishes when roomservice comes in about the noise and only his mobile office as the hint it happened.

[tattcub]

Wow...

There's a lot there to play with.

That sound you hear may be the sounds of cogs and gears turning inside the warped melon that is my mind.

Thanks for the suggestions.

:-)

TC

[Lucas88]

Really enjoyed the character dynamics even if you thought it was rushed. I got a great visual in my head of this hulking delivery guy standing there with his uniform split and torn in all the right places and hanging so very little of that body is actually hidden. A great tangent would be how he finished out the rest of his day in that raggedy uniform and the reactions he got.

Miss Darcy is my kind of witch!