The Ticket

The Ticket
by Ellie Dauber © 1999

Author’s Note: This story introduces a continuing character of mine, the White Witch Elizabeth Lange. Yes, this is an old story of mine, but in light of recent news events, I thought that it was appropriate to post it. I’m also adding a small bit from a second Elizabeth Lange story, in which she discusses the fate of the transformee in this story.

* * * * *

Elsbeth Lange drove quickly down the two lane road. It was late in the afternoon, and the sun hung low over the mountains. She hadn't seen another car in almost an hour, and it felt like she was the only person in the world.

She loved the long, empty roads out here in Nevada. That was why she'd moved here from New England. It gave her a chance to be alone, to think, and to sense the lines of force that flowed out from the ancient centers of power. She brushed back her long white-blonde hair and smiled, enjoying the Celtic music on her car's CD and the mood of the afternoon.

She was about fifteen miles outside of Reno coming into the city on a back road from her home in the mountains, when she heard the siren. She glanced up at her mirror and saw the flashing lights of a police car. Damn!" she thought. She looked down at the speedometer. “67.” She almost always set the cruise control a mile or two over the limit. Cops never bothered people in that narrow zone. Maybe he just wanted her to get out of his way.

She slowed and pulled over to the side of the road to let the police cruiser pass. When the other car followed, she came to a stop and turned off the engine. While the officer noted her serial number, she reached into the purse beside her on the seat. Her license, registration, and insurance were all together in the ID pocket. Elsbeth pulled them out and waited for him to come to her car.

She didn't have to wait long. unbeknownst to her, the officer kept a citation pad open on the seat beside him in his patrol car. He had the basic information written before she'd pulled to a stop. The only question was whether he'd hand it to the driver or tear it up for favors given: most gave cash; but a few, especially young women, “worked it out” in other ways.

Stan Kowalczak worked hard at looking like the perfect highway patrolman. Six foot tall, well tanned, and square of jaw, he worked out regularly, including running ten miles a week. He slowly got out of the car and put on his “Smokey's” cap and mirrored sunglasses. Then he looked around to check for any other traffic and approached the car.

He smiled when he saw that driver was a woman, and a damned attractive one. He guessed her age at late twenties, maybe early thirties. Her hair was long, draped over one shoulder and almost reaching the seat. She wore a white cotton peasant blouse that held a truly impressive pair of breasts (at least 38s, he guessed) and a long denim skirt.

‘Definitely a class act,’ he thought. ‘This should be fun. At a minimum, I get to throw a scare into her and get some cash. At best, well, it wouldn't be the first time he got some broad frightened enough to give him a little “service” by the side of the road.’

Elsbeth reached out to hand the officer her license. He studiously ignored it. “Ma'am, do you know how fast you were going?"

“Officer? My speedometer said 67, when I saw you."

“Yes, ma'am. And that's above the legal limit. What were you trying to do? Couldn't you handle this car properly?"

“Officer, I accidentally set my cruise control two miles over the limit. Two miles. You're making it sound like I was driving like some kind of maniac."

“You were exceeding the legal limit and driving in an apparently reckless manner."

Reckless? How can you say that?"

“I say that because that's what I saw. Are you trying to make things worse by arguing with me?"

“No, I'm just trying to understand why you're saying these things. You're blowing a minor speeding ticket far out of proportion."

“Ma'am, please step out of the car."

“What? Why?"

“Your behavior since I pulled you over suggests that you might be driving under the influence of alcohol -- or possibly something stronger." He paused a moment to let the words sink in. ‘Now please step out of the car."

“This is ridiculous. You pull me over for going two miles above the limit on an empty road; you haven't even looked at my license; and now you're talking like I'm either drunk or high. Perhaps, you'd like to check the car for drugs."

“Why thank you, ma'am. I hadn't thought of that. Now get out the car."

Elsbeth opened the door and stepped out. She saw the cop staring at her long legs as she did. They were well-tanned, so she hadn't worn stockings in the afternoon heat. Still, her two inch heels displayed them to very good effect.

Kowalczak motioned for her to turn. Face the car, and assume the position, please." When she did, he patted her down. He took his time feeling her 38-C breasts, and she was very glad that she'd decided to wear a bra that morning. He also got very familiar as his hands moved down past her hips and down each leg.

“If you're quite done, may I turn around?"

“I don't know; maybe a cavity search. Or maybe, maybe we can go back to the privacy and cool of my car, and you can explain your side of the story." He reached out and ran one finger down her cheek. Under the right circumstances, I can be very forgiving."

“That did it," Elsbeth said. She spun around, taking Kowalczak by surprise. Before he could do anything, she made a strange gesture with her hands at the cop. His eyes glazed over, and he stood erect, as if at attention. “Tell me," she asked. “Did you write up my ticket, yet?"

“Yes, it's still on the pad in my pouch." He voice was low and without any trace of emotion.

“Then what was all this fuss about?"

“Pussy. You get a woman nervous enough, you can get her to spread her legs or suck your cock. And when you don't give her the ticket or arrest her, she thinks you've done her the favor."

“And you get away with this?"

“Who'll tell? I don't have a partner. I only do it when the road's not too busy; so there's no witnesses. And the stupid bitch isn't going to tell. Hell, she probably enjoyed it."

“Enjoyed being scared to death by some jerk, pervert cop."

“Sure. What else is a woman good for?" Kowalczak was starting to sweat. Some part of him, deep down, was aware of what he was saying. Well, it was too late for him to do anything about it.

Elsbeth smiled and got back in the car. She sat there for a moment, taking in power from the lines of force in the mountains around her. Confident that she was ready, she muttered several sentences in druidic Celtic. A ball of green energy, pure Earth Mother magic, formed in her hand. She watched as it floated into the air and out of her car. It grew bigger and engulfed the officer before being absorbed into his body, seemingly without a trace.

Kowalczak shook his head as he recovered from the trance. He reached in the car and took Elsbeth's license and other materials. He only looked at it a moment. He didn't notice that his hand was slimmer and his fingers longer. He copied her name and address onto the ticket, then handed the license and all back.

“Ma'am, you were going two miles over the limit. It's not much, but I'm giving you this citation as a warning. Please be more careful." He took his ticket pad from its pouch on his belt. With his short sleeved uniform, Elsbeth could see that his arms were considerably less muscular and completely hairless. He tore off the ticket and handed it to her. It was less of a reach, since he was now six inches shorter.

Elsbeth watched him walk back to the patrol car. As he walked, there was more and more of a feminine sway to his hips. His figure became more and more curvy below the female cut of his -- no, by now it was her -- uniform.

Officer Stella Kowalczak started her car and drove slowly down the road. Elsbeth followed. She wanted to watch the last effects of the spell, even at a distance.

She knew what was happening, even if she couldn't see it.

Kowalczak's boots softened, taking a less military fit and grew a three inch heel. The crisply starched pants fused together and moved up her legs, exposing long curvy legs covered by the dark gray panty hose that her stocks had become. The pants, now an electric blue skirt, stopped well above her knees and clung to her hips and ass as if they were painted on.

All the equipment on her belt disappeared as it changed color to match her skirt. The short sleeves on her shirt also disappeared as it transformed into a semi-transparent white lycra blouse with a low neckline that exposed much of her new 40-DD breasts. A little bit of the lace from the bra that fought to contain those breasts also peeked out the top of the blouse.

Stella took off her trooper hat even as it changed into a frothy woman's summer bonnet, beribboned and trimmed with white lace. A turquoise bracelet sprouted at her wrist, and matching earrings dangled from her pierced ears. Her hair hung free, reaching down past her shoulders in golden curls. Her face twitched slightly as lipstick and other make-up materialized.

Finally, the spell reached out to take the patrol car. Elsbeth watched the roof panel, with its flashing lights and siren, disappear. The car shrank and changed color, becoming a small silver sports car.

Elsbeth looked down at the seat beside her. Reality had changed. In this new world, Officer Kowalczak had never existed. Neither had the speeding ticket that faded to nothingness on the seat.

Inside her own car, Stella looked at the thin woman's watch on her wrist. Four o'clock. Plenty of time to get back before her first show that night. She felt a tingling in her nipples and her groin. She loved being a showgirl, getting dressed up in pretty costumes and parading her beautiful body in front of hundreds of men each night. It was almost as much fun and felt almost as sexually satisfying as getting laid, which she also managed to do almost every night.

A strange thought came to her mind. There was something else that she was supposed to be doing. In the back of her head, she seemed to hear the words “Preserve and Protect". But she dismissed the feeling with a shake of her pretty head. What could she have to do besides get up on a stage and look sexy or spread her legs for whatever guy she was interested in at the moment?

After all," she thought, what else is a pretty girl like me good for?"

* * * * *


Later that day, Elsbeth had dinner with her husband, Michael Two Knives. This was their two-year anniversary. Daniel was on-call that evening at a local hotel, so he couldn't come home to celebrate. But he did have the run of the hotel. They planned on a quiet supper, maybe a show, and then a lively, at-length re-consummation of their marital vows. All, hopefully, not interrupted by any sort of medical emergency.

So far, things had gone well. The meal was excellent, steak, potatoes, and an excellent wine for two. Elsbeth told Daniel about the policeman. "He must have really gotten you upset," Daniel said. "You seldom can summon the power to actually warp reality."

"I really hadn't meant to. I just wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. Make him act like the sort of bimbo he thought women were. But I could tell that I'd gone beyond that even as I cast the spell."

"Is it permanent?"

"The changes are, more so than the reality shift, anyway. In a few hours, the police will notice that they've got a missing trooper on their hands, and Stella won't be employed as a showgirl any more. She'll probably even remember who she used to be."

"Will she remember that it was you that changed her?"

"No, I don't think so. And she'll be compelled to continue to act like a bimbo. She'll be working as a showgirl or a waitress in no time; maybe doing a little hooking on the side. And all the time wondering what happened to her, and why she can't stop acting the way she is."


"No. It should wear off in about a month. I sort of wish I could hear the explanation that Stan Kowalczak gives when he shows up at the station house the first day."


A final word: I'm not posting this as a general condemnation of the police. I've known a number of policemen in my life; my father employed some part-time as drivers in his store, and a man working on a degree in criminal justice, so he could become a policeman, was a good friend when I was in college.

I don't believe that all police officers are monsters. I know that they aren't. But I also know that all police officers are human beings, and some human beings are definite sons of bitches. The problem comes when one of those sons of bitches gets and abuses the authority of a police officer. It's a hard problem to solve, but it's one that we must solve if we're going to live up to the promise of America.

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