Call for the witch to change you

Prodding once at the mess under your dress, you skip to the window, a foul smell weaving through the air. It's tricky to walk over the brittle brown mat of yours in pooped panties.

'Melissa!' you shout, wondering if the witch is currently in hot-woman form or old-hag form. 'Melissa! I had an accident!'

Suddenly, you whirl around to face...

The End

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