Ratchet Part 5

Monica awoke once again to the bleary heat of a too-bright bedroom, desperately kicking blankets off of her legs in an attempt to cool off and fall back asleep. She remembered that her mom was a heavy sleeper too. When she was in grade school, Monica would wake up early to get dressed and eat something resembling a breakfast before wandering into her parent’s bedroom. By then, her dad had already gone off to work and left her mom alone to rest before it was time to drop Monica off at school. Even then though, waking the woman was a chore as she would talk in her sleep and say literally anything to make her daughter go away. It was a recurring theme for Monica and she told the story often. Probably because she was the exact same way now.
She opened her eyes groggily. Not because she actually wanted to be awake but to look for a fan or an AC vent or ANYTHING to alleviate the sweltering heat. The first thing she saw was Owen’s handsome face smiling down on her and it did make her happy, though she now felt obligated to cuddle and love on him before looking for a way to lower her own body temperature.

“Hey baby girl.” He said sweetly, his deep voice still causing an amorous tingle to ripple through her body after several months of dating.

“Hay.” She replied sweetly with a sleepy rasp still in her voice.

“You passed out at the restaurant. D’you have a vison?” He asked in a kind, consoling tone. He sounded well meaning on the surface, but with an eagerness that caught Monica off guard.

“Huh?” She asked. On some level she knew that something had been happening to her, but for whatever reason it was too easy to forget each time it happened. “Oh. Yeah. Uh, I guess I did…”

“Don’t worry, that’s normal. They’ll get easier to deal with over time so don’t sweat it too much. Mama’s a little crazy, but this could be something you might really enjoy.” Owen said, his voice like honeyed oak.

“Yeah….I guess… Anyways… Is there a fan somewhere we could use? It’s so fucking hot in here I swear I’m gonna die every time I try to sleep.” 

Monica asked, subtly trying to change the subject.
“Yeah, they built this place stupid. The window faces directly into the sun so it gets hot every sunrise and every sunset. I’ll run to the store and get one today.” 

He said, seemingly all too happy to distract his girlfriend. 

She noticed.

“Am I not going with you?” She tested.

“Nah, I think Mama wants to spend some time with you and the girls today. See the sights, you know? That kinda thing.” The dark skinned man replied in a tone that Monica once again felt was too casual for the situation. 

She watched him out of the corner of her eye, playing up the appearance of foggy mindedness so as to not arouse suspicion.

“Yeah….Okay….” She droned lazily, and with purposeful slowness.

“Alright baby girl, I’ll be back later with your fan. You be good for Mama, okay?” Owen said and kissed Monica on the head, leaving before she could even answer.

Monica remained in her upright, drowsy position for a several minutes after he left in order to ensure that she wasn’t caught up and moving too quickly. The panic of her situation had abated after several days of torment, thought she wondered if Owen was right and there WAS some sort of pacifying effect going on with whatever weird magic Lovelie was working on her. She stepped in front of the mirror and inspected her body as she got dressed. She noted the changes in her waist and hips as well as her willingness to dress more in a more daring manner than she normally would. Emotionally, she was almost excited and eager to show a little more skin but in her hypercritical state, she was making mental notes of inconsistencies and anomalies while ignoring impulses.

If she was to be resisting temptations over the course of her trial, then she resolved to do so. She was pointedly aware of the tanning of her skin and a bit of added thickness to her hips and waist, no doubt the effects of the magic on her after two binge sessions both at the house and restaurant. What caught her by surprise however only happened after she ogled herself in the mirror, appreciating for a moment how sexy she looked with her new physique in a white crop top and a sexy collar she’d received from Owen. 

….Except she didn’t. She felt confident at a glance that she had received the collar as a gift, but the more she thought about it the more she realized that she had no actual memory of Owen ever giving her such a slutty accessory. That realization triggered another: She didn’t own a white crop top, nor would she ever wear one on a normal day if given the chance. The change had almost slipped past her, but the moment she had caught it, she became doubly aware of any lapse in scrutiny and resolved not to let her guard down again. For now, she thought, she would need to act as if she hadn’t noticed and hold onto her disgust lest she find herself becoming accustomed to the change. Indeed, watching Horror movies as a kid with her mom was serving her well. With a flip of her hair and a quick spot of makeup, she put on her best fake grin and sauntered out into the living room.

Lovelie had wasted no time gathering Ne-ne and Keisha and ushering the three of them out of the house. They piled into Lovelie’s small car and drove down to a Mexican restaurant for breakfast. Each of the girls was reasonably amicable with only a couple snapping corrections from Lovelie over some minor rudeness or lack of etiquette. They all spoke eagerly about the food and their plans for the day and what interesting current events were going on in their lives, all the while including Monica and allowing her to do the same. It would have been nice, she thought, if she wasn’t so sure that at least half of it wasn’t just an act to get her to drop her guard. She didn’t know whether or not any of them intended for her to fail any of the trials of temptation and be trapped in whatever form that caused her to take, but she wasn’t about to trust any of them. 

Several times Lovelie had offered for her to eat more with no worries about the bill, but Monica played into the urges she had felt earlier and vapidly, almost arrogantly stated that she was watching her weight. It was apparently a convincing performance given the sly smiles on every one of the other girls’ faces after she’d said it the way she did. The out of place blonde had never prided herself on her skills as an actress, but at the moment she felt that it was an underused latent talent to explore later.

After breakfast, Lovelie walked the three of them up the street to window shop on their way to the store, complimenting Monica several times on her outfit and very natural beauty. Monica felt awkward about receiving so much attention and suspicious of the woman who openly admitted to magically changing her against her will, but she couldn’t deny that she wasn’t entirely hating her new tan and increased curves regardless of their sinister origin.

(1)

Ne-ne complained the entire way while Keisha rolled her eyes and kept quiet in her own aloof, bitchy way. It was only when they passed by a black hair store that she eagerly started badgering her mom to stop by.

“No Keisha, we’re supposed to be going to the park today to show Monica around the city.” Lovelie said, the slightest hint of a groan bleeding through her tone.

“But Mamaaaaaaa!” Keisha whined brattily. “I’m tryna get some conditioner!”

“Girl, you GOT conditioner at the house.” Her mother replied, not even looking as she continued to walk away.

“Nuh-uh! I only got a little bit left cuz I took my braids out! Can we just go for a little bit? I’m only gonna be like a second!” Keisha continued, refusing to move too far away from the store.

Monica watched awkwardly as the two squabbled while Ne-ne pulled out a little pink phone with a scratched up case and began scrolling some unseen app. Lovelie insisted that they move on and that Keisha was ruining their guest’s experience only to be rebutted with Keisha’s equally stubborn insistence that Monica had no interest in her personally, meaning that it wouldn’t hurt to spend 5 minutes in a store to catch up. It was only after several minutes of constant bickering that Monica decided to sheepishly raise her hand in an attempt to offer a solution. Both women quirked their eyebrows in so much the same manner that any doubts that Monica had about the two being related was instantly squashed.

“Bitch are you really rais’in yo hand righnow?” Keisha asked incredulously.

“Well, I didn’t wanna interrupt you guys so-“ Monica began only to be immediately spoken over by the group’s matriarch.

“But you did, so let’s hear it. And this ain’t a classroom so put’cha damn hand down. That’s some scared white people shit right there.”

Monica began to tremble as her anxiety swelled in her chest, causing her breaths to come in short, huffing bursts that she could barely control. 

“I was just thinking I could go with her and then catch up to you guys after? It’d be no trouble and it’s okay if not, but I just-“

This time it was Keisha’s turn to interrupt.

“….Uhhh, WHY? What, you wanna buy a weave? Get’choo some braids? Perhaps a nice ba-rette?” She asked mockingly and with a flair of irritation that did an impressive job of making Monica feel small.

“I just thought…Maybe it could be like a bonding experience?” Monica mumbled shyly, now trying more to defend her answer than advocate for it. “I figured, you know…I’ve been spending time with them and we haven’t gotten a chance to really hang out, so maybe some ti-“

“What, ‘tchu wanna be FRENS now? Ohmahgaht  I can’neven believe this bitch righnow…” Keisha groaned, now pacing back and forth just to handle her own irritation.

Lovelie smiled a sweet, almost malicious, smug smile. 

“You know what, baby? I think that’s a GREAT idea. Keisha, Monica probably ain’t never SEEN a black hair store before. Why don’t you go on in with her and spend some good quality time, and when you done, you meet us down at central park plaza, okay?” 

Keisha groaned and closed her eyes before letting them roll back into her head, eventually begrudgingly agreeing. Keisha stormed off, her slim but fairly generous hips swaying in an exaggerated motion as she angrily strode down the street, leaving Monica to catch up. Monica entered the store after Keisha did and had resolved to keep quiet, only to immediately find Keisha looking through the store window from odd angles from behind the corner wall of the store.

“Hey, is my mama gone?” She asked eagerly with a much more exuberant and less malicious look on her face.

Surprised, Monica turned and looked over her shoulder out of the store window and confirmed that Lovelie and Ne-ne were both well down the street and moving out of sight, only to be scolded immediately for being so obvious.

“Aight, hey. Sorry for bein a bitch an’ all that but I can’t let my mama think that we frens yet. That voodoo shit she doin is still in the early stages so she don’t want nobody tellin you anything ‘bout how it works, you feel me? So I had to make it look like I din’ *wanna* hang out wit’chu so that she would try to *make* me hang out wit’chu and then we could talk.” She said, a kind if not sassy grin plastered across her face.

“Well, um. I don’t know what to say, so…Hi? I’m Monica?” The blonde offered, extending her hand professionally.

“Keisha.” Was the response, and with it came a surprisingly gentle handshake that caused Monica to speak without thinking.

“Oh my god, your hands are so soft!” She almost gasped, causing Keisha’s face to light up.

“Thank yooouuu!! I got this moisturizer from Ulta and it’s like a cocoshea cream and it work SO DAMN GOOD. Wanna guess what it’s called?” 

Monica smiled, amused at the sudden burst of friendliness. 

“Is it the Carter and Jane one?” She asked, not expecting to get it right but feeling obligated to at least try to guess.

Keisha smiled and shook her head. “I’z called….Buttah. Just….Buttah. I was like ‘ooooh, okay! We tryin ta sell this in the ghetto, huh? Okay, damn. I’ll give it a try!’”

The conversation progressed smoothly into beauty products and the general layout of a black women’s hair store. Monica had several questions about the various products and how to use them, and Keisha was more than happy to explain. The most confusing pert of the entire experience was after Keisha had done her shopping and an Asian woman checked them out after shouting to her Asian daughter and husband working in the back. Apparently it was very uncommon for black women to own their own stores that sold their own products. It made Monica feel bad and she attempted to express it, but Keisha ominously stated that if Lovelie and Owen had their way, Monica would know all about that in due time. This took the darkly tanned white woman by surprise.

“Wait, what? What do you mean?” Monica asked, stepping out onto the street. “Your mom told me all about the trials and temptations and all that. I thought I was just supposed to resist the temptations and I’ll be fine! Now she’s hoping I won’t make it?” 

She followed Keisha out of the store, stopping dead in her tracks at the annoyed, bit piteous look she was receiving.

“Is that what she told you? Damn, that’s not even the same as the last time.” Keisha said with a sigh and a shake of her head, her thick mane of hair waving luxuriously as she did.

“Wait, what? Last time?!” Monica almost yelled before composing herself. “What do you mean ‘last time?’”

Keisha sighed again.

“Girl, they playin you for a damn fool. There ain’t no damn trials! Mama made all that shit up to stop you from tryna escape!”

Monica stared, wide eyed and speechless, waiting for Keisha to continue with shaking hands.

“My Mama told you about the spirits and that she could do magic right?” The black girl asked, receiving a somber nod from Monica.

“Well that part’s true. They real, she real, that’s all real. What she prolly ain’t tell you is that those dreams you be havin? Those ain’t dreams. Like they are…but not really. You been seein all kinds a black girls all half naked and tribal and shit, huh?” 

Monica nodded again. Her attempts to control her fear and anxiety were being dampened by a hideously painful lump in her throat that she was having the hardest time swallowing over.

“Well those are spirits. And they tryna get you to do they rituals. That’s why they always sayin ‘feed me’ and ‘wear this’ and shit. They suckin you you into their world when you drop your guard and your mind start wanderin. An’nit feel like a dream too so it’s like you ain’t in control a yo’self when it happen. But that’s how they feed. You do they ritual and it gives them power. So they start changin you mentally and physically for Owen, cuz he made that deal wit dem, and then Mama gets the blessing from the ritual cuz that’s the deal SHE made. That’s why she lookin so young lately. Ne-ne too. She already lookin different. Even me. You saw I had my braids in before? I didn’t take ‘em out. I woke up like this cuz the mama be sharin the blessing with me an Ne-ne too. They eatin yo soul and payin my Mama for it.” Keisha explained.

Monica was flabberghasted. She didn’t know whether to be angry, scared, or mystified. Instead, she settled on blank and just plain confused.

“….So…..what does Owen have to do with it? He’s having them change me?” She asked numbly, forcing herself to accept what she was being told at face value instead of denying it like some horror movie damsel.

“Well he already had them change him. He used to be REAL skinny. An’ a thug too. But he made a deal and sold out his friends, now they in jail fa life an he out here all big an strong lookin like Lance Gross an Idris Elba had a baby.” Keisha said sarcastically.
“So what does that have to do with me? He’s making me black?” Monica asked, her own judgmental temper returning to her slowly.

“YUP. And not just black but like REAL dark. Fat too.” Keisha said, nodding with wide eyes and a pursed lip.
Monica stared at her, completely stunned.
“…But… WHY?!” She blurted out loudly.

“Cuz that’s what he into! He like them ghetto ass girls from the hood. Fat, stupid, always drunk or high or whatever. He inta that shit, I dunno why. Just cuz he got a magic makeover don’t mean he ain’t a hood nigga at heart. That’s why I told you not to eat anything. They tryna turn you like they did his last girl Charice. She used to be called Charlotte, but then my mama had the spirits suck the life outta her and make her a fatass baby mama fo’life so she could get smarter, younger, and have another baby. We all stay young cuz a that shit, but we can’t mature neither. I’m my mama’s prisoner too! That’s why she lookin like a old ass lady when me an Ne-ne only 20 and 15 years old! This time she prolly tryna get young again so she can live longer but me an my sister ain't never gonna get away from her.”

Keisha realized that the amount of bad news that she was dumping onto Monica was too much and decided to bite her lip and take a more sensitive approach to the conversation. Monica was clearly trying not to cry, but her eyes were so full of tears that if she were to blink even once her perfectly applied eyeliner would be ruined. She felt awful.

“Heyyy….Girl, do you need a hug?” She asked, smiling kindly.

The red face blonde nodded vigorously, still trying her best not to let the tears flow down her face before rushing over and burying herself into Keisha’s skinny arms and sobbing wildly.

There were several minutes of straight bawling, and Keisha on several occasions shot passers-by dirty, threatening looks to stop them from rubbernecking at the scene. She did not at any point stop petting, patting, or holding the crying woman in her arms, and after a time Monica was able to calm down.

“So…What…Do I ….Do..?” She sniffled, backing up to a respectable difference.

“Well…” Keisha began. “For starters, don’t do nigga shit. That will speed it up. Keep your guard up, and I’ma try an help you find a way outta this. I can try to work some voodoo of my own and see if there’s a way to save you, so in the meantime don’t let any weird shit happen. Plus…It’s not all bad, right? Shit, if you stay lookin like blonde Kim K when we get you outta here, you prolly never gotta work again.” 

Monica wiped her tears, dreading the state of her makeup and what she was going to say to Lovelie when they met up again.

“Do you really think we can do this?” She asked in a tear-burned rasp.

Keisha smiled confidently, looking her new friend up and down. 

“You know what? If we play our cards right and keep it on the downlow, I think we can.”

(2)

The pair walked back pseudo-separately. Keisha took the lead and played aloof like nothing was wrong, her bag of cosmetics and deep conditioner swaying in one arm while Monica followed meekly behind. 

Lovelie noticed as predicted that Monica had been crying and immediately asked the both of them what had happened.

“She fine.” Keisha said dismissively and with no shortage of arrogance in her tone. Monica put on her bravest “nothing is wrong” face and attempted to assure the older woman that she was okay and that she was just feeling a little sensitive that morning. 

This was a clever ruse that the two of them concocted on the way back, designed to give the impression that Keisha had snapped at Monica who had taken it too hard. This would create the illusion that the two didn’t get along and thus were not plotting anything together.

“Well, you know what? I think it’s the sign of a strong person who can put themselves together after having a hard time. Whatever happened in there is over, and we’re not gonna let that ruin our day okay, baby?” Lovelie asked, smiling.

(3) 

Monica could already see the difference in Lovelie’s appearance and was surprised that she hadn’t noticed it sooner in the day. Her gray hair was a thing of the past and while she still looked to be a much older woman, her appearance, attitude, and general presence radiated that of someone in their mid to late fifties as opposed to their seventies.

Ne-ne too seemed different. While she didn’t really look any younger, there was something different about the way she looked and acted. Her clothes were more flashy and daring despite remaining chubby her messy braid were much more well groomed. In general, her overall energy levels were much higher and she seemed to be more attentive to the world around her as compared to the first couple days that she spent staring dazed into a tv screen or wide eyed at Monica like she was a new toy. 

It made sense now, Monica thought. She wasn’t excited to see that Owen had a girlfriend or astonished at how pretty she thought Monica was. Ne-ne was excited about Monica’s appearance because she knew that it was going to be taken away and fed to ancient voodoo gods while she received a magical kickback every time it happened. Monica was never a new big sister or role model; she something to drain and benefit from. Even now she looked giddily at the frazzled white girl, apparently having a great time out and excited to see if anything else had changed. There was a passing thought that for a kid, Ne-ne looked cuter than usual. Prettier even, Monica thought dryly as she faked a warm smile and felt her body fill with disdain for the greedy little piglet eyeing her like she was candy.

(4)

The group walked around a busy area with paved areas littered with street performers or the odd sales cart, every hundred feet bustling with new music from a stereo or instrument. Beyond the blacktop were several forested areas that branched off into hiking trails or picnic spots where several families could be found laying on blankets and having a great time. 

Lovelie had been rambling on about something or other involving the state of the area when she was a little girl, and Monica found herself wondering just how long ago that actually was. She imagined that she was some ancient witch who’d been around for hundreds if not thousands of years, stealing the life force from those unlucky enough to run afoul her or her family. Monica observed the families on the grass with some jealousy, gently weaving past the crowds of people passing by to get a better look at the life she’d all but given up on when she chose school and money over a happy family. 

Wandering towards the more open area, she watched an attractive black couple enjoy each other’s company, seemingly in their own little world as they sat on a blanket in a quiet grove. It was sweet to see really, a pair so in love with each other that they couldn’t help but display that affection openly. At first, it was just kissing and laughing together, but then Monica watched as their activities became more amorous the longer she watched. The woman has removed her man’s shirt and was sensually kissing his well defined muscles right in the middle of the park, pressing her generous cleavage up against him as she gazed into his eyes. Transfixed, Monica grew concerned for the family-friendly nature of the area but couldn’t tear her eyes away from the couple as the grew more impassioned. In her mind, the pair loomed like they were going to start fucking right out in the open at any moment. 

(5)

The second the thought had crossed her mind, both the man and the woman turned in unison to look at Monica who immediately blushed and looked away, chiding herself for getting too close and gaining their attention. She walked away quickly, pushing through a horde of scantily clad women in her attempt to vanish into the crowd and rejoin her party. Lovelie and her daughters were nowhere to be found while Monica stood out like a sore thumb. She looked around desperately to find them but found it nearly impossible to find the girls she’d come with in a venerable sea of black women. Everywhere she looked, there was another wide-hipped hoochie sauntering by or dancing to the beat of a nearby dj and his pounding drum and bass. 

Indeed, it seemed that nearly every person in the crowd was not only black, but a scantily clad woman with wide hips and an enticingly large ass that effortlessly jiggled and quaked with every movement they made. Monica searched in vain for a while longer before moving down the road towards the source of the music. There was a sudden impact against her shoulder and a whoreishly dressed woman with long hair wound in tight black curls turned to look at her, a knowing grin on her puffy pink lips.

(6)

She was clothed, but only barely. Her round ass was well displayed in spite of a tiny pair of yellow shorts while her plump breasts threatened to flop out from beneath a matching tubetop that showed off a prostitute-like level of underboob.

“Dance with me.” She whispered, her sultry voice ringing clear as all other sounds seemed to soften for her when she spoke.

“Listen. Feel…” She commanded sexually, and Monica felt her hips beginning to gyrate on their own to the beat of the music.

(Feel)

Monica wanted to ask who this woman was or what event was going on that so many women would show up to the park dressed this way. She wanted to worry about Ne-ne seeing all this or if this was what Lovelie had brought her here to see, but she simply…couldn’t. She felt restless, even as she broke out and to a sexual display of her own movement, dancing to the beat of the drums pounding (pounding) throughout her body. A part of her was more confused than shocked or alarmed. In all her life she had never learned how to dance, especially not in such a sexual or fluid way. She felt hot. Sweat poured in beads down her back as the woman continued her own rhythmic display, clearly getting some intense pleasure (pleasure) from the act of dancing.

(pleasure...)

Before she knew it, Monica had ripped off her shirt and with it, her jeans, revealing only the black, lacy lingerie she’d put on to entice Owen into sex (sex…sex….sex….) later that night. She danced wildly, lost in a horny (so horny...), dazed delirium as the woman from before grabbed her hand and began pulling her towards the structure where the music was originating from. She followed with gasping, steamy breaths as she was pulled towards a wooden cabin, the intoxicating beat of the drums roaring from within.

Monica opened the door and stepped inside, nervous about having such an encounter outside of her own home or Owen’s, but at the moment she was too pent up to care. She threw herself onto the bed and looked up at Owen as he elegantly removed his shirt and tossed it haphazardly o to the nightstand. She could almost hear the music from the park as if she had never left, rattling and thrumming in a fast paced rhythm that filled her with an almost angry vigor. She looked up at her man, drinking in his powerful physique as she steamed in the heat of the summer night.

(7)

“You like what you see baby?” He asked, grinning cockily.

“Shut up and fuck me.” She growled, nearly panting in anticipation and delirious with lust.

Owen chuckled slightly.

“It would be my pleasure.”