#amotherstheft

She had bought several pages of old parchment at a local flea market, hoping to make them into fun props and decorations for Halloween. One night while we were preparing to decorate she accidentally spilled wine on the sheets. However as I ran to get some paper towels, one of the parchments revealed to my mother that it was more than it seemed.

The acidic qualities of the wine revealed latin words hidden on the sheet. My mother had learned latin in college as an elective and so it was easy for her to read. Even if she hadn't, the words would have ensnared whoever had laid eyes on it in that moment because when I re-entered the room she was speaking it's words without looking at the paper.

Her eyes were blank as I watched each word she spoke flow from the parchment, up her arms and settle on her neck and further down under her blouse. As she finished the final word the parchment lit on fire and disappeared into ash in the blink of an eye.

"Mom?" I had said, watching in confusion and fear. "Are you ok?"

She turned her head slowly, a smirk growing across her lips and said "Just peachy darling. You clean while I head out, ok?" She said already exiting the house before I could say another word.

If I knew what she was about to go do, I might have tried to stop her. But knowing what she is now capable of, it wouldn't have ended well for me.

The spell, which now adorned her upper body like tattoos, gave her the power to take whatever she wanted from someone. Any physical or mental trait that she desired from someone, she could have by simply touching them. The trait would flow into her like the words from the parchment, forever changing her. I know this because I had seen her do it too many times to count.

She had drained most of the bitchy hot girls in my college dry. Her tits were huge monsters that looked bolted onto her chest. Her lips looked so inflated that it was a surprise she didn't float away. Every inch of her was stolen from multiple women, so much so that it was impossible to even see my mom still in there.

Even her personality had changed. The spell had made her hungry for change but her absorption of many vain, spoilt and bitchy women had made her a true terror to be around.

"Mercy, you're such a nothing." She'd say to me, flipping her impossibly thick, glossy hair that used to be Gina's, the head cheerleader at my college. Or no, wait, was Lisa's from my chem class? It was hard to keep track of anymore. She took from everyone she could get her hands on. Everyone except me, but even that had a vicious reason behind it.

"Why do I bother with you?" She'd sneer. "You've got nothing worth taking."

So yeah, when she texted "Dinner? My treat." I was suspicious. But I came anyway. What else was I gonna do? Whatever she wanted, she got so if she was going to do anything to me then why prolong the inevitable.

When I arrived she didn't even look up from her phone, no doubt posting to her onlyfans, her primary source of income now. She looked incredibly as always. Her yellow plaid shirt hung off her frame loosely, as if she were begging it to slip. It was a wonder her stolen H-cups managed to hang onto the fabric.

Once I sat down she finally looked up, and smiled a smile that wouldn't look out of place on a snake. "Darling, so glad you could make it." She said as I searched for a sign of insincerity in her voice and surprisingly finding none.

"So, what did you want to meet about? Finally find something of mine that you want?" I said holding back the anger that had built up over the past few months. An anger that only grew further when she laughed long and loud at my question.

"Oh dear you are too funny." She said after what felt like an eternity of cackling. "No, no there is nothing I could possible want from you. No, I'm here for something else."

She scanned the room, her green eyes, also stolen because she found brown too boring, locking on our waitress. A cute college girl, maybe 20, with perky D-cups pushing against her black blouse, blonde hair in a messy bun, smiling walked around tidying.

"Mmm." Mom purred, not even hiding it. "Look at those breasts, Mercy. So firm, so perky. Not a sag in sight."

My stomach dropped. "Mom, no. Please. You've got... you've got enough. Those things are huge already. Don't ruin her life for your vanity. She's just doing her job."

Mom's plump lips curled into a smirk, her thick lashes fluttering. She clicked her fingers to summon the waitress over. As the girl approached my mom leaned forward, her cleavage spilling like a threat. "Oh, darling, they're not for me."

I blinked, trying to parse her riddles. "What? Then... who?"

She laughed, low and throaty, as the waitress arrived. "What can I help you with Ma'am?"

“Oh you’ll do just fine.” My mom said licking her lips. Before I could stop her, she reached over and grabbed the waitress by the arm. As soon as their skin touched the waitress was frozen in place.

“I’m doing this for you, silly. I've perfected my body, every curve, every inch stolen and savored. But that doesn't mean the rest of my life can't be perfected. Namely, you." She waved a sharp pointed manicured hand at me, nails glinting.

"Look at you. Pathetic. A nobody. A nothing of a daughter. Flat as a board, mousy, invisible. But once you start stealing from other women, like I have, then maybe, just maybe, you'll be worthy of me again. Worthy of being my daughter." She smirked self satisfied as the waitresses still stood there frozen.

My heart hammered. "No. I'd never. I'll never become the monster you've turned into. Stealing lives? Ruining girls? You're evil, Mom!"

She threw her head back, that luscious mane cascading, and laughed. Full, mocking, echoing off the walls. "Oh, darling... you think this is a choice? The spell needs to be fed and I’m all full up. You’re next in line."

Before I could do anything, Mom snatched my hand with her other, nails digging in. A jolt hit me, like electricity, but alive, hungry. Warmth flooded from the waitress's chest, through Mom's body, her tattoos glowing faint under her shirt, then into me.

"No! Mom, stop!" I yanked, but it was useless. Powerless. The waitress's perky D-cups melted away, deflating her blouse to a sad A-cup sag. I watched helpless as they flowed into my mom and then over to me.

They settled on my chest, swelling, pushing. My baggy sweater stretched, ripped even, as two perfect, perky D-cups ballooned out, firm and bouncy, nipples hardening against the fabric. The sensation was orgasmic, explosive.

My mom let go of both me and the waitress, the latter of which stumbled away, bill forgotten. Her mind became a confused mess like all the others. Their memories of their traits feeling like a dream they once had.

I however took no notice of her. I didn’t care as I stared down, hands flying up to cup the two gigantic mounds on my chest. Heavy. Real. Mine.

My Mom took a satisfied drink of her wine, smirking triumphantly. "See? Perfect fit."

I opened my mouth instinctively to yell, to cry, to hate her. But something was twisting inside me. A growl, deep in my gut. Hunger. Not for food. For more. Curves. Lips. Hair. Everything. My plain lips, still mine, curled into a dark smirk, unbidden. Glasses fogging as I panted.

"Mommy." I whispered, voice husky, new. "I'm... hungry."

Epilogue

God, it’s only been a week since that night at La Bella Vita and it feels like a different life. It almost feels like a dream but I’ll get used to it. I get used to everything these days.

I run a manicured nail (Mia’s, my former bully, old set, longer and redder now) along the slope of my breast. They’re bigger than the waitress’s ever were. I kept hunting after that first taste. A little from Brooke here, a little from Jess there, a generous handful from the yoga instructor at the gym who used to sneer at Mommy. They sit high and full, heavy enough that I feel them when I walk, a constant, delicious reminder that I take what I want now.

Mercedes. That’s what they call me now. Mercy feels like a dead girl’s name, some flat chested little ghost who wore baggy sweaters and disappeared in crowds. Mercedes turns heads. Mercedes makes people stare. Mercedes makes people beg.

Mommy picked the name, of course. She said “Mercy” never suited me anyway, and the second I tasted my first theft, I knew she was right. I felt it click, like the final piece of a puzzle snapping into place. I wasn’t her disappointing little shadow anymore. I was her daughter. Her real daughter.

We’re closer than ever. Actually close. Like, scary close. We hunt together now. Nightclubs, gyms, runways. Anywhere the pretty people are, we're there. Of course at this point she is more of a guide than a hunter, but she still takes a trait here and there.

She promises me that in another week the tattoos will be mine and I'll be free to prowl alone but even then I can't imagine doing it without her watching proudly.

No one would ever guess we’re mother and daughter now, but not like before when I looked like something she'd scrape off her stiletto. No now we look like two lethal barbies, peers meant to be worshipped.

I catch myself in mirrors and I don’t even flinch anymore. I pose. I preen. I watch the way my stolen tits bounce when I laugh and I love it. I love how hungry I am and I love how no one can stop me.

Mommy says the spell likes families. Says it’s stronger when it stays in the bloodline. That’s why she never took from me before, she was saving me. She made me perfect so I could stand next to her without embarrassing her. And now we’re building something, she says. A dynasty. A bloodline of goddesses who take whatever we want, whenever we want, from whoever has it.

I’m still hungry. We both are. There’s always more out there.

Tonight we’re going out. Some upscale club downtown where the bottle girls are all tens and the trust fund brats think they’re untouchable. Mommy’s wearing red. I’m wearing black. We look like sin and more sin.

I can’t wait.