"Doctor Morris thanks for seeing me. My wife Patti is trying to get me. She's a witch?" Tim stated. Tim was panicked, he believed something was wrong, but he didn't know what. Tim, a svelte six-foot-three man of 46 with salt and pepper hair that is mostly gray now in a textured fade style, a thin but muscular build, and course hair draped all over his body.

"How?"

"I don't know. But she'll do something."

"What could she do?"

"Something is wrong. I don't know what. I feel, I don't know how to describe it, I just feel odd. Do I look any different?"

"You look fine to me."

Tim felt tingling in the palms of his hands. When he looked at them, he noticed the skin seemed smoother than he remembered. He rubbed his hands together; "did they feel softer?" Tim wondered.

"She's doing this to me!"

"Doing what?"

"This?"

Tim stuck out his hands toward Doctor Morris.

"I don't see anything wrong."

Tim saw the back of his hands. The fingers looked more delicate from what he remembered. Were they longer? No, that was just an optical illusion because of their new slim appearance. He noticed the hair on his wrist. Was it thinning out? How could it be?

"STOP IT!"

"I'm not doing anything."

"I mean Patti."

"Your wife isn't here!"

Tim felt something brush his shoulders. He reached over and found his hair had lengthened quite a bit into light curls. He pulled some in front of his face to look at it. His hair didn't seem Salt and pepper-colored any longer, it looked much lighter. It must be brown.

Tim didn't have time to contemplate the new color of his much longer hair, he felt as if his chest was being constricted. It started to hurt. Instinctively, Tim let go of his hair and brought his hands to his chest. He tried to crush his chest back into its normal flattened state. That was when the third from the top button on his shirt lost its hold. It couldn't contain his chest anymore. Tim tried to rebutton it, but the button wouldn't reach the hole.

"What is happening to me?"

"Nothing."

"You call this nothing?"

A new pressure developed at the sides of his jeans and then at his rear. His pants felt restricted. When he bent over slightly, ***RIIIIPPPP*** The seem on his backside gave way. It wasn't the only seem to feel the strain. The next seem to go was in his upper thigh. It tore all the way up from his thickened thighs to the newly excessive fullness of his hips.

"Can't you see what's happening?"

"I don't see anything."

"How do you explain what happened to my slacks?"

"What's wrong with them?"