Candace’s Curse
IV
Candace sat in the living room across from George. She’d only met Les’s boyfriend briefly as one of the small crowd Les and Skylar had summoned from the woodwork to help her move. Between the generosity of people who were essentially strangers and the stunning realization that she’d accumulated so much stuff in a few months living on her own, she hadn’t had a chance to get to know anybody.
“So, Les said you work at the hospital?”
“Yeah, I’m a pharmacy tech.”
The title meant nothing to Candace, but she didn’t want to look dumb. “That’s cool.”
“How about you? Are you a full-time student, too?”
Candace shook her head. “I’m a server.”
“Oh, right. That’s a tough gig.”
“It can be, but most people aren’t too bad. Everybody loves to tell horror stories about Karens or loud families, so it seems a lot worse than it is.”
“Heard.”
Candace sensed the topic was played out, unless she wanted to talk about Headlights specifically, which she did not. She racked her brain for something else to say when Les saved her.
“Alright, y’all can come make plates.”
Les had everything spread out over the counter and stovetop: chicken cordon bleu, smashed garlic potatoes, and roasted brussel sprouts. Candace said, “Wow, this is amazing.”
“It’s basic stuff, honestly.”
George gave Les an affectionate side hug, and Candace thought she saw her roommate stiffen at the touch. Maybe Les wasn’t as comfortable with PDA as his boyfriend.
They each filled their plates and went back into the living room, where Les grabbed the remote. “We’ve been watching Spy Family, have you seen that?”
“It’s one of my favorites,” Candace said. “But I don’t mind rewatching.”
To George, she added, “I didn’t know you were an anime fan too.”
“It’s alright. Les has been making me watch it.”
“Fuck off, ‘making you watch it.’” Les slapped George playfully on the arm. “We went through three whole episodes last time because you had to find out what happens.”
“I’m just saying I wouldn’t have watched it otherwise, that’s all.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Candace suppressed a laugh. She’d been self-conscious about spending so much time around a queer couple, but they interacted so… normally that she felt ashamed of herself for expecting anything else. People were people, after all, and despite her self-diagnosed status as an introvert, her upbringing hadn’t been that sheltered.
***
“This wallpaper clashes so hard,” Skylar said, turning in a slow circle in Candace’s bedroom. “Are there any bare walls in this place?”
Candace tugged at the shirt of her Lain costume. It didn’t fit as well as it had at the con, clinging to her chest. “We could try the backyard, maybe?”
Skylar dragged Candace out of her bedroom and through the house. Les was in class, so they had the place to themselves. The backyard was overgrown with weeds, but a chainlink fence covered in vines made a perfect backdrop, according to Skylar.
“That’s it, put your hands behind your back. Perfect!”
Skylar took pictures with her phone while Candace posed. She felt ridiculous; every move Skylar wanted her to make seemed silly, and she was sure the photos would turn out awful.
“Arch your back a little bit.”
“What?”
“You know, like—“ Skylar stood up straight, rolling her shoulders back and sticking out her chest.
“Seriously?”
“Just try it.”
Candace mimicked Skylar’s posture, feeling like an idiot.
Skylar laughed. “That’s great, but can you do it without the RBF?”
“Huh?”
“Pretend like you’re talking to a table…”
Candace made the awkward pose again, wearing her customer service smile. There was no chance this picture would look good.
Skylar tapped her phone again and again. “Yes, girl, cook. These are gonna slay!”
“Why are you taking so many?”
“Keep smiling. You want to have a bunch so you can spread them out.”
Candace’s shoulders started to hurt, so she shifted position, turning to the side as she’d done in her senior photos.
“Oh, nice. That’s great. To stay high on the algorithm, you have to post a lot, but not too much. You don’t want to spam dozens of pics in one day, but you want to be able to post one or two every day and keep it up as long as you can.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“So, unless you want to keep putting on costumes all the time, we’ll get a shitload of pics now, and then you’ll have a buffer.”
Candace moved again, leaning against the fence the way she remembered seeing in art for the anime. “Won’t people get bored with that?”
Skylar shrugged. “Eventually, yeah. But you don’t have to always be in cosplay. You could post shopping or process videos, and when you get a new costume, you’ll have more to post. If you get enough followers, you might even get sponsorship offers.”
The thought terrified Candace. “Really?”
“Think of it this way. Even if you only make a little bit off these platforms, you might earn enough to pay for more stuff. Outfits, printed accessories, wigs, all that stuff you need.”
“Yeah…”
“Alright, I have one more pose idea, then we should do the other costume. Come lie here in the grass.”
***
With Skylar’s help, Candace started building an online following. If someone had told her a year ago she’d be checking Instagram every day for likes, comments, saves, and reposts, she’d have punched them in the face. Well, she’d never have actually punched anyone, but she would have vehemently insisted that it couldn’t be her. Posting photos online for the approval of strangers was too much like her sister’s cheerleading. All that vanity and ego and superficiality that high school Candace despised.
But this wasn’t that, she told herself. This wasn’t Mandy’s, “Hey, look at me, look how pretty I am.” She was sharing her new hobby, her new passion, with other people like her. People who were weird, who felt like outsiders, who never felt like they fit in with the people around them. People who loved stories and characters. The escape of getting lost in another world, another place, putting themselves in someone else’s shoes.
And so, in the little spare time she had between classes, homework, and shifts at Headlights, Candace worked. She made more costumes, took more photos, and watched her numbers go up. Little did she know, not all those likes and shares were from fellow anime fans. Or rather, not her fans were the wholesome kind.
All over the internet, from across the globe to across the hall, fans visited and revisited Candace’s photos in their “private time.” Each one connected to her through that mysterious psychic connection, the “curse” her mother warned her about. It happened so frequently that Candace stopped noticing. Her days became a constant hum of pleasure. A steady tingling warmth greeted her when she woke each morning and lulled her to sleep every night. And slowly but steadily, the gratification Candace offered to her fans was repaid in the form of larger and larger breasts.
It wasn’t fast, nothing anyone—even Candace herself—would notice from day to day or even week to week. But by the time she paid Les for her third month of rent, the shirt from her Lain costume was uncomfortably tight, and she made another appointment to get fitted.
***
On her way home from classes, Candace stopped to check her PO box. Setting that up had been another one of Skylar’s suggestions—a way for fans to send her gifts from her wishlist without giving out her home address. Six months ago, thousands of internet strangers knowing what city she lived in would have given Candace a panic attack, but her newfound confidence was making her bold.
For nearly three weeks, every time Candace had checked the PO box, it was empty. But that day, a large padded envelope was stuffed inside. Giddy with excitement, she rushed home to open it, praying to the universe that it was cosplay items from her wishlist and not something creepy. Around the time she passed five hundred followers, Candace started getting inappropriate DMs and photos, which she promptly deleted and blocked their senders.
Her fears were unfounded. The gift was indeed something from her wishlist, a long sweater dress in scarlet with a boat neck and long sleeves. Candace did a little dancing twirl, hugging the garment to her chest, before she went digging through her dresser drawers. In the crammed assortment of outgrown bras she’d yet to gather into a donate pile, she found her prize: a pair of black tights she’d found on clearance.
Candace took a mirror selfie and sent it to Skylar.
Candace (6:23 p.m.): [image]
Skylar (6:24 p.m.): 👀👀👀
Skylar (6:24 p.m.): 😍
Candace (6:25 p.m.): 😊
Candace (6:25 p.m.): Now I just need a black wig and a headband
Skylar (6:27 p.m.): When it’s done we can do another photoshoot
Candace (6:28 p.m.): 🥰
The front door opened, and Candace heard Les through the wall.
“I’m home!”
They’d started announcing their departures and returns after the third time one of them had startled the other, who thought they had the house to themselves. Candace tossed her phone on the bed. Les loved Spy Family. Stepping out of her bedroom, she said, “Guess what I got today!”
Les’s eyes went wide, but he grinned. “Whoa, where’d you find that?”
“One of my fans sent it to me,” she said, twirling. “Isn’t it great?”
“It’s perfect.”
***
Les stood under the near-scalding water, trying not to think about Candace while he took his evening shower. She’d been near-perfect as Yor Briar. Her natural hair was wrong, of course, but most cosplayers used wigs. The outfit was spot-on, though. They’d been living together for months, so he’d had plenty of chances to see a lot of Candace’s legs, but it was somehow so much sexier with those black tights. That, and she was way more stacked than Yor. Candace was gorgeous, with a figure that seemed built for cosplaying anime women. And for reasons he couldn’t explain—and wouldn’t dare to ask—she appeared to still be developing.
Les was by no means an expert on female anatomy, aside from the more… practical aspects. Hell, he’d nearly failed out of biology in high school. But even he knew it was pretty damn unusual for a nineteen-year-old’s breasts to be growing. Les supposed she could simply be gaining weight; everyone talked about the “freshman fifteen.” But he saw his housemate in boy shorts and tank tops at least once a week, and if Candace was gaining anywhere but in “them thangs,” Les wasn’t seeing it.
He shook his head, scattering droplets of water across the shower stall. He did not need to be fantasizing about his roommate. She was paying him rent. And he had a boyfriend. Never mind that George seemed so emotionally unavailable lately. Why should he be the only one to put effort into the relationship?
As Les lathered himself with soap, his mind drifted back to Candace’s Yor outfit. If she kept growing as she had, she’d be able to cosplay Uzaki-chan before long. A taller version of Uzaki, but still…
His body was responding again. Les sighed, wrapping a hand around himself. He might as well get it out of his system.
***
Candace was reading in bed when a burst of heat flared in her middle. She was used to these random flashes of nice feelings, but this was stronger than any she’d felt before. She tried to ignore it, staring at the words on the page one by one, forcing her mind to turn shapes into ideas.
This was going on longer than usual, however. Her body tingled so hard she felt like it was buzzing. The feeling drifted lower, gathering between her thighs while an echoing sensation floated into her chest.
Candace dropped the book on her mattress, losing her place. She shoved one hand under the blankets while the other clutched at her breast. She had to do something, anything, to make it stop.
One finger making a slow, curious stroke along the damp patch in her panties was all it took to send Candace over the edge. Her hips bucked, and her breasts throbbed. She bit down on her lower lip to keep herself from crying out. There was only one wall between her room and the bathroom where Les was showering. If he heard her masturbating through that wall, she’d die of embarrassment.