Annie and Penny Book Deux Deux

Chapter 3
Something wicked this way…

Chapter Description: Domestic life! What could be more endearing?

Upon reaching their home, Annie took Penny to her bedroom, wished herself 13 years younger, undressed Penny, and while holding her hand, wished herself 13 years older. Penny followed suit and was now a freckle-faced 15-year-old with little hints of the gorgeous body that would grace her later on in life.

“Why am I a teenager, Annie? I can’t say I’m all that happy at this age and the acne and braces are a definite downer, you know?” If she had gum, she probably would have been chewing it loudly making little snapping sounds for emphasis.

“I’m off to put the groceries away and we need someone to tidy up the house while I cook dinner. Be a dear, and do that won’t you?” asked Annie with a reasonable tone in her voice.

“Oh, fine!” said Penny with the exasperation that her teen body demanded “The process seems to be speeding up on my regression anyway, so I’d better get started before I need diapers again”.

So saying, she went to her closet and dressed up in one of Annie’s old outfits: A light pink blouse with Peter Pan collar, a plaid pink poodle skirt that ended just after her knees, white ankle-length cotton bobby socks, and a pair of black and white boxer shoes. Feeling a bit naughty, she skipped the underwear as nobody would notice anyway. She then busied herself doing bits of house cleaning while spouting 50’s lingo.

“Keep cool, daddy-o!”

“No need to be a party pooper, man!”

"Hit me eight beats to the bar, Herman!"

The doorbell rang, Annie went to answer it lightly singing “Who is knocking at my door?” repeatedly under her breath. As she opened it, Natasha stood there and sang back in an appealing mid register: “Open the door, you f&*king whore, it’s Barnacle Bill the sailor!”, bowed and let himself in, making a beeline for the couch and sat down with an air of superiority that brooked no objection.

Annie wasn’t having it. “What are you doing here, Natasha? This house has no interest in you or what you’re peddling!”

“Really, my dear? I think we have some unfinished business, you and I! We need to discuss a new wrinkle in your contract as your current living arrangement has invoked clause 632, subsection 3, paragraph 23, statement 2” gushed Natasha with fake enthusiasm “To whit: ‘Any outside interference in the completion of this contract, shall bring on a conclusion of business in the most expedient of circumstances as pleases the guarantor’ - Which is me, of course!”

“You’re bluffing! We both know that the contract isn’t fulfilled until I sign the extension that you created for it and until such time -” Annie didn’t notice that the poodle skirt was slowly inching its way down her legs as her socks started to become saggy “all contractual obligations -” she continued in a higher voice, the poodle skirt hanging off-kilter on her narrowing hips, threatening to fall off at any moment and touching the tops of her boxers “are null and void until such time -” the Peter Pan collared shirt now looked like a large baggie on her skinny frame “that both parties agree to a reasonable compromise.”

The poodle skirt hit the floor, the baggy shirt covered up any indecency found there with the collar creeping over Annie’s shoulder. “What are you doing? Stop this!” she screamed as she stepped out of her shoes, socks, and poodle skirt. With the unsteady legs of a 2-year-old, she advanced on Natasha and began hitting him on his knees with her infantile fists, frustrated and hapless that she wasn’t able to do much else.

“It’s already done, my dear! The invoked clause means that you’ll be a 2-year-old until an agreement on the contract can be reached, care to renegotiate?” Smiled Natasha as he rubbed his hands briskly. “You keep your intellect, but your body is that of a toddler. Let me give you at least a decent voice so that I don’t have to decipher your lisping words. It’s totally gratis, I promise!” with a light wave of his hand, Annie’s speech and annunciation returned to that of a 10-year-old.

“Well, thanks for that at least!” said Annie in a high-pitched voice that didn’t match her current body’s age. It was out of sync, but it beat talking with an unintelligible lisp!