Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer. If you cannot legally smoke, drink, or have sex without worrying about getting caught, and fined, and castrated by a maniacal ex-lover, then you are TOO young to read this. Go play video games or something.

Background: I've seen a Tales from the Crypt (starring Harry Anderson), and also a grade b horror movie, with a similar theme. What if you were a cartoonist and everything you drew came true. Well both were used for horror purposes. I've also seen stories (mostly horror), along similar veins, with different artistic forms. So I thought, what the hey. Why not write ANOTHER story in this manner. So yes, this story is about an artist with a gift. Any surprise twists? Well, maybe. Guess you'll just have to read it.


Penny For Your Thoughts

By Munch Wolf


        Dear Diary,

This pen I found in Uncle's attic is incredible. I'm not sure exactly how it works, but if there was such a thing as magic, this would be it. As a test this morning I went to Bruno's, the little coffee shop around the corner, and tried it out. After the waitress had delivered my mocha and bagel, I drew a little cartoon on the napkin. It was a picture of her saying I didn't have to pay my bill. She would take care of it. Next I had the manager come up to her and offer her a raise for being so generous. It's not like I didn't have the money. I left her a tip which equaled the price of the bill. I just wanted to see if this pen did everything I thought it would. Well, after I finished my snack the waitress came over to my table and said, �You don't have to pay the bill. I'll take care of it,� exactly like I had drawn in my cartoon. Then the manager came over and offered her a raise. Wow, I thought, this is incredible, but then it got awkward. I had not drawn anything after that and whatever temporary control the pen had was released. They both stared at each other dumbfounded at what happened, and then walked away in separate directions. I don't know if she still got the raise or even if she was later yelled at for offering me a free meal. I just hurried out of there and haven't been back.
In a way this thing scares me. What if someone else had such a pen, or is only this one special? What if I accidentally use it in anger? Does it only change people's minds, or can it do other things? Nothing should have that much power over other people, but part of me wants to explore its limits. I need to run some more tests before I can decide what to do with it.

Signed,
        -Me
        

Ps: Don't forget to change the kitty litter.

        The ink bottle flew furiously across the room, spilling everywhere. Olive ducked under the sofa to avoid the air born liquid, but wasn't fast enough. A good portion of the jar tainted her white fur, turning it black. Olive peered out cautiously. Shredded papers spread across the living room, and books scattered everywhere. She watched as her favorite plant, the one she liked to nibble on, fell from its place on the desk, and spilled soil across the carpet. Olive mewed loudly, cursing the havoc being wrought on her home.
        Penelope came to her senses. She looked down at the mess she had made. She was furious, but wrecking her own home didn't solve anything. She looked down at Olive's button white nose poking out from under the couch. Penelope started to cry. She reached down to coax Olive out from her den.
        �I'm sorry Olive,� she said, while a tear fell down her cheek.
        She held out a hand, but Olive shied away, ducking deeper under the sofa. Penelope crumpled in to a ball on the rug and sobbed. She clenched her fists as a pain inside of her swelled. She felt a great sorrow, mostly at her own blindness. She thought she had control, that she knew what she was doing, that the relationship was perfect, but she was fooling herself. She had manipulated him in to falling in love with her, and then he cheated on her. Penelope didn't know what hurt more, her own wickedness, or his. She felt the pain build inside her. The kind of pain that isn't real, yet feels worse than any real pain. She knew she was going to be sick. She crawled, and then stood up, to rush to the bathroom. She didn't make it in time. The hall carpet would need cleaning now. She cursed under her breath.
        Olive peered out again from under the sofa. Her servant was no where to be seen. She listened carefully. Some disgusting sound was coming from down the hall. She was curious. She started to trot over to the corner, but stopped half way. The ink on her back was getting sticky, and causing some discomfort. She reached back to lick it. Big mistake. That was the worst tasting thing she ever had. Worse even then that bubbly water from the New Year's Eve party that made her feel really funny, and cause the ceiling to spin. Olive spat most of it out, and wiped her tongue with her paw. She needed water, quick, so she trotted back down towards the hall.
        Penelope was feeling weak. Her knees were shaking. She needed to lie down. She staggered down the hall to her room. It wasn't far of a walk. Penelope collapsed on the bed, the room spinning around her. She needed to clear her head. She needed a stiff drink. Penelope reached over to the cigarette box lying next to her shoes on the floor. It was her roommate's cigarettes. She didn't smoke often, but felt like she needed it. Penelope opened it up. Empty. She cursed some more.
        Olive was almost inside the bathroom, when she stepped in something very moist and smelly. She wasn't very happy about it. She sniffed it. It smelled worse than cat food. She spat out her tongue, and wailed. Just to complain to the mean gods, who ruined her peaceful afternoon. Olive pounced off into the bathroom. The lid was down on the toilet. She looked around, her cat eyes easily adjusting to the dark. She spied a few drops of water, dripping out of the faucet. Olive hopped up on top of the sink and dipped her paws in the water. The icky stuff cleaned off her paws quickly, and she was able to get rid of that horrid taste in her mouth. The ink was still sticky on her back. That was getting annoying. Maybe she should find some warm, dry clothes to roll around in, her evil little brain though. That would help get rid of the ink. She grinned, then decided against it. Her owner seemed upset enough as is. Maybe she should go cheer her up. Olive hopped down off the sink and trotted off to the bedroom.
        Penelope was still feeling sorry for herself. She was clutching the pillow tightly, and trying to debate what to do about Carl. She could try to win him back, but what would stop him from leaving again. Did she really want him anyway? Olive took that moment as an opportunity to jump on Penelope's back and mew loudly. Penelope grabbed at her cat, to pet it, and recoiled when she felt the ink.
        �Oh, Olive. I'm so sorry,� she pouted, �I didn't mean for you to get covered in ink.�
        Olive responded by licking Penelope on the nose, and then proceeded to purr. Penelope started to feel better. She hugged Olive tightly, and scratched her behind the ears. At least someone still loves me, she thought.
        The peacefulness was interrupted by a loud noise. Olive jumped and ran for cover, in case the world started flying around the room again. Penelope looked at the phone. It rang a second time, followed by a third, and a fourth. She wasn't expecting any calls, and was in no mood to talk to anyone. She let the answering machine get it. She heard the familiar giggly message her roommate and she had left, followed by a beep, and a voice. It was Carl. She stood up, but was still feeling weak, and stumbled into the dresser, bumping the bed. Olive dashed on down the hall, in search for a safer place. Penelope managed to make it out in to the hall. She heard Carl's voice. He was talking, mostly venting, about the situation. Saying how she was a bitch, and she couldn't be trusted. What the hell had she done? He finished by demanding that she return his jacket, and a necklace that he bought for her. She was furious. She picked up the phone, but he had already hung up. She slammed it back down.
        �I was going to be nice to you,� she shouted out loud at the phone, �but no, you have to pull this crap. How dare you!�
        She reached down to grab the phone out of the socket, but hesitated.
        �No,� she said, �I'm not going to destroy any more of my stuff because of you. I'm going to get you, and get you good.�
        She stormed over to her drawing table in the corner, and cleaned everything off it with one sweep. Olive dashed back to the bedroom at the sight of the sky falling again. She pulled out a clean sheet of large paper from her art folder, and placed it smoothly on the table. She walked over to her bookcase. Penelope swore that she'd never do this again, but this was different. She needed revenge, and this was the only way she knew how. She bent over to the bottom shelf, and pulled out a small cedar box. Penelope fished around in her pocket, and pulled out her key chain, on which was a small silver key which unlocked the box. She smiled maniacally. She had not opened this box since when she first met Carl. In fact, it was with this box that she ensnared him. Ironic, she thought, it will be the tool of his destruction. She opened the box, and pulled out an antique ivory pen and small ink well. Her grin widened. She knew the power that she could wield, and just that thought increased her mood. She walked back to the table, and furiously began working.
        Olive was running around in circles. The amount of chaos that had filled her day, was already more than nine lifetimes. She had never seen her servant this angry. Normally Penelope was level headed, and would spend her spare time drawing. Olive liked the pictures. There was even one that looked like her, hanging on the bedroom door. That was her favorite. Olive decided it was time to look at it again. Maybe that would calm the situation. She marched off to the bedroom, and looked behind the door. It was gone. Olive panicked. She howled loudly in distaste. Her world was falling apart. She looked around desperately. She even started rooting around the dirty clothes that were next to the door. The ink on her back didn't bother her anymore. She had more important concerns. Beneath the pile she spied a piece of paper. Was it the picture? She pushed a bra aside with her nose, her face barely fit inside the cup. She started to drag a sweatshirt off it, when a loud, banging noise startled her. She dodged back under the bed.
        Penelope was startled as well, and extended a line too far. She was halfway finished with her picture. It was mostly a cartoon, with panels and word balloons. All that was drawn so far was Carl leaving his house, and getting into his car. He said something to his new lover about getting his stuff. The next panel had him driving, while conceding how much of a jerk he'd been. Finally, the last panel she drew before the door knocked had his car stall out on some railroad tracks. The last two panels were empty.
        Penelope looked up at the door. She was nervous. Carl called less than half an hour ago. He wouldn't be here already, unless her magic was backfiring again. She considered covering her sketching, but that would smear the ink. Maybe she could ignore her visitor, and they would go away. Another loud knock came from the door. She could see it vibrate as it was struck. Olive dashed into the living room quickly, and then back down the hall. Penelope looked down at the picture. It could wait. She would answer the door, quickly get rid of whoever it was, then get back to drawing. Cautiously she opened the door.
        �Hi,� came a loud voice from the other side. It was Jim, her neighbor. �I heard a loud ruckus and was wondering if everything was alright?�
        Penelope sighed. She had known him for a few months, and he seemed like a nice guy, but she wasn't in the mood to deal with him. �I just received some bad news, and I'm not taking it well.�
        �Well then I have something that just might help,� he said, holding up a small stack of papers.
        Olive peered down the hallway to see what was going on. The banging had stopped for now. She was curious what else could ruin her day. She crept down the hallway, avoiding the spot where her servant had lost her lunch, noting that she should have to do something to exact revenge for that. Maybe pee on her new chair. Olive smiled. Yes, that would make the day better. She trotted down the hall to see her servant let some stranger in to her domain. She can't do that. No one was allowed in without Olive's permission. A lesson must be taught. Maybe she'd pee on the bed sheets as well.
        �This really isn't a good time,� she insisted. The truth was she wanted company, in case Carl showed up.
        �Please,� he begged, again holding the papers up, �It would mean a lot to me.�
        �Alright,� she conceded, �Would you like some coffee?� Inwardly she groaned. She didn't have any, and only remembered after she asked.
        �No, maybe a soda.� She had some of that. Penelope grabbed two cups from the cupboard and poured some soda in to them.
        �Interesting work,� Jim announced. Penelope spun around, almost spilling a glass. He was standing next to the sketch board, looking at the cartoon she was drawing. �I almost feel sorry for the guy, but I guess he must deserve what's coming.�
        �He's not a nice man,� Penelope muttered. She should have covered the drawing, or not let Jim in at all.
        �Still, I wouldn't wish getting run over by a train on anyone. No one deserves that.�
        Penelope shrugged, �It's only a drawing.�
        �Art is but an expression of our desires.�
        Penelope bit her lower lip. He had raised a good point. She needed to finish the picture. Carl would be here soon, and she had to get rid of Jim. �Listen, it's really not a good time right now.�
        Jim ignored her. He was staring intently at something on the easel. �Is this what I think it is?� He picked up the pen. Penelope froze. Did he know? �It is. It's a genuine Filbert Excaliber plus. Only thirteen were ever made.�
        Penelope looked at him dumbfounded. What the hell was he talking about? Jim looked up, noticing her confused expression. �Sorry,� he said, �My uncle had an antique store. I spent several summers there. This is a rare find. Any museum would give you a fortune for this.�
        �I consider it priceless,� she smiled.
        Olive continued to watch this inane prattle. What was she doing? He didn't belong here. Of course, he didn't smell as bad as that other man. Maybe she could get used to him. She decided to give it a shot. She waddled over to the new man, and rubbed her back against him, smearing the ink on his leg.
        �So about this picture,� Jim segued while ignoring the cat, �Couldn't you give it a happier ending?�
        �I suppose,� Penelope sighed. She picked up the pen and quickly sketched the man in the car returning to his own home, never to bother his ex-girlfriend again.
        �I'm sorry, I didn't mean to impose upon your artwork, perhaps I should go?� Jim placed down his soda, and headed toward the door. Penelope watched as he walked away. She couldn't help it, she thought, he had a cute butt.
        �Wait,� she cried out as he reached for the handle. She didn't want him to leave, he seemed nice, and she needed company. An odd thought struck her. �Want to see a neat trick?�
        Jim turned around and beamed, �If it involves you putting you shoes behind your neck, sure!�
        Penny stuck her tongue out, �Not that kind of trick, let me grab a blank sheet and show you what this pen can do.�
        Olive stamped her paw. He was almost gone and she stopped him. Why couldn't she have her kingdom back? Maybe if she demanded food, then her servant would realize who was important and needed attention. She pranced over to the food bowl and noticed it was already full. Olive growled, and decided to demand more food anyway. She mewed loudly.
        Penny had sketched a quick draft of what she wanted to draw, and started filling in the details. Jim looked on with amusement. Olive continued to meow.
Penny gazed over at her cat. �Olive dear, you have enough food, but I have a special treat for you.�
        Olive's ears perked up. She knew that word, and it always meant something good. Maybe that big guy will leave. She dashed over to the sofa, and pounced on to the window sill where she had a perfect view of what Penny was drawing. It was her favorite resting spot, plenty of sun, and she could watch Penny work. Maybe she was drawing another picture of her.
        �So what do you think?� Penelope asked as she continued her drawing.
        Jim glanced over the picture. It was a drawing of olive, well, more of a cartoon. It started out with Olive sitting on the window sill enjoying the sun. Next, she rolled over, and a burbling sound emitted from her furry tummy. Finally it ended with her inflating like a balloon and floating to the ceiling.
        �I'm not sure I'd call it fine art. So where's the trick?�
        �Watch,� Penelope whispered as she turned to watch her cat.
        Olive glanced at the picture as well, but wasn't impressed. It wasn't as good as the one on the bedroom door. She thought about looking for that picture again, but the sun felt so good. Olive rolled over, and gazed out the window. Maybe she should punish her servant, leave this place, and search for a new one. Olive purred at that thought. There had to be thousands of big ones out there willing to cater to her every whim. She purred some more, but then felt some discomfort, almost like a hairball forming. She needed to find a shoe quickly to deposit it in if it was.
        Jim gasped as he heard the rumbling come from Olive's stomach. It was louder than he expected. �Did you do that?�
        �Keep watching,� Penelope chided.
        Olive fell off the sill, surprised at the sound she made. She had never made a sound like that before. The discomfort continued, this time it didn't feel like a hairball. It was something different. She looked up at the two people pitifully and mewed. Today was not a good day.
        �It's alright snookie,� Penelope soothed as she picked Olive up. Olive seemed fluffier than usual. �Nothing is going to hurt you.�
        Jim stared in awe as Olive started swelling, then glanced back at Penny. A wicked thought flashed through his head as he gazed down at her shirt. �How are you doing that?�
        Penelope giggled. Olive was flailing her arms, trying to escape, her body growing rounder by the second. Penelope let her go, and like the drawing, she floated up, as if a small furry balloon, to the ceiling. �It's the pen, it's magic. Anything I draw comes true.�
        Jim picked up the pen in amazement. �This pen, did that?�
        Penny watched her pet bobbing along the ceiling. �Yup, wasn't that proof enough, or did you want to try your hand at drawing something?�
        Jim looked at the pen, then up at Olive, and then back down to Penelope's shirt. His eyes lingered long enough for Penny to notice. He hastily put the pen back down. �Drawing isn't my forte, writing is, and I wouldn't know what to draw anyway.�
        Penny giggled again. �Really? There's nothing you'd want to draw? Well how about I draw something, and you give suggestions?� Jim gulped.
        Olive continued to bob along the ceiling.
        �Let's see, you suggested me putting my feet behind my neck.� Penelope placed the pen on a new sheet and traced a line.
        �It was shoes, and that was a joke. I didn't mean anything by it.�
        �Uh, huh.� She continued to draw.
        �Hey, that's not you, that's me. I don't want my shoes behind my neck,� Jim protested.
        Penelope ignored him, and kept drawing.
        �Um, what am I doing?� Jim asked.
        Penelope didn't let up from her work, and offhandedly said, �Looking at my chest.�
        �Um, why would I want to do that?�
        Penelope glared at him. �Something wrong with my breasts?�
        �No, no, no,� Jim stuttered, �they're perky, I mean perfect.�
        �Well, you've been looking at them since I turned Olive into a pi�ata. It gave me an idea.�
        Jim gulped again. �What kind of idea?�
        Penelope raised her left hand and pointed toward the fridge. �Could you be a dear, and get me some more soda?�
        �You just don't want me to see what you're drawing!�
        �Exactly,� Penny grinned, and Jim meekly went into the kitchen.
        Jim took his time searching around the kitchen. He slowly placed more ice in the cups, debating how many cubes to use. He gingerly poured the soda into the cups to avoid any foam from forming. Jim then refilled the ice trays with water, and feeling that he had waited long enough, returned to the living room. �Done yet?�
        �Just about,� Penelope sighed, adding the final touches.
        Jim walked over to the canvas. �So can I see it?�
        Penelope stood up, blocking his view. �No, it's going to be a surprise.�
        �So is there anything you can tell me?�
        �Well,� she chided, �I wasn't expecting visitors today, so I'm not wearing a bra.�
        Jim paused, �And why would I want to know that?�
        �Well if I was I might feel some discomfort.�
        Jim sighed, handing her the drink. Olive was still floating around the ceiling. At least she had stopped struggling, and resolved herself to her fate as a furry balloon. Jim tugged at her tail, and she hissed.
        �Hey, don't pick on my cat!� Penelope growled.
        �Sorry. I was just curious if...� Jim paused, then stared at Penelope's chest. �Your breasts!�
        Penelope glanced down. Nothing had changed. �I'm sorry,� Jim apologized, �I have no clue why I just said that.�
        �My fault, I had reversed two frames. Wait a second, I need to chug this first,� Penelope giggled. She placed the glass against her lips, and quickly sipped all the soda. She sighed when it was all gone.
        �So you can control what we say as well?�
        Penelope burped. �Whoops, too much carbonation.� She pressed her fingers to her lips as it appeared she was going to burp again. The was a muffled sound, and she pushed her chest outward. After another muffled burp her chest pushed out again.
        �Wow,� Jim gasped as he realized with each burp her chest was swelling. He glanced back up at the cat, then back at Penelope, and smiled a wicked grin.
        �You are such a pervert,� Penelope sneered. She burped again, but couldn't cover her mouth in time. Her shirt stretched tighter none the less.
        �Hey,� he griped, �I didn't draw this, but then I'll have no complaint getting you more soda.�
        �More soda? Just how big do you want me to get?� Penelope burped a few more times in rapid succession. The fabric of her shirt strained as her tits swelled inside it. She placed her hands on either side of her growing bosom to emphasize its girth. Something about all this tingled nicely inside her. Why hadn't she tried this before? �Just look at how big I am. I could smother your head with my tits!�
        Jim grinned even more, �Is that an offer?�
        Penelope cooed at that idea. �Sure, just help me get out of this shirt before I tear it apart.�
        Jim blinked, �Just how big were you planning on getting? I hope you're not going to float to the ceiling as well.�
        �Well it's your fault if I do!� Penelope grabbed at the bottom of her shirt and tried to pull it up. Her breasts were still swelling now, whether she burped or not. Quite like a balloon, they seemed buoyant under her shirt. Also like a balloon the swelled faster. Tears formed in her shirt.
        �How is it my fault?� Jim tried to help her pull the shirt up with no success.
        �I wrote a small caption at the end saying that they grew until you were satisfied, and then we went off and had the best sex ever.�
        �Oh,� Jim murmured. The seam on her left side split open and her breasts lurched forward trying to free themselves.
�I'm satisfied,� Jim cried out. Immediately they stopped growing. Penelope tried to reach around her new assets, but her hands wouldn't meet. They were too big. She grabbed tightly onto her shirt and pulled, splitting it completely open. Her breasts seemed to launch themselves at Jim, and he stumbled over backwards.
�Wow,� she gasped. �They're HUGE�
�I'm not satisfied,� Jim whispered. Penelope gasped as her breasts resumed their growth. �Kidding,� he shouted, and they stopped.
�Why you wicked man, for that I will smother you,� she growled as she dove on top of Jim.
�So now we get to have the best sex ever?�
�We don't really have a choice now, do we?� Penelope said.
        Jim gently caressed her left breast. Despite its inflated appearance it felt soft and warm. He gently nuzzled her nipple. �Well we do have some choices, like out here, or in the bedroom.�
        Penelope giggled, and tickled her captive prey. �Like I could fit through the bedroom door now?�
        Jim gasped and tickled back. The two quickly pulled off their clothes and continued to roll around on the floor. Meanwhile Olive felt the air slowly leak out of her, and she drifted to the floor. She was angry at her pet, and didn't want to watch the two big ones have fun. Maybe she should drive her claws through Penny's billowy chest, Olive thought. That would be too mean though. She decided against it, and wanted only to be slightly disobedient. She jumped up onto the counter by the door. The one she was never supposed to be on. She looked back. The couple had switched positions to a more natural one. The female was facing forward, resting on her chest, and the male was behind her. Olive mewed in disgust. Maybe if she waited, it would be over soon, and her world would become normal again. Olive now had a plan. She would wait, maybe even take a nap. Yes, that was it. She curled up on a pile of papers that Jim had brought in earlier. If only she could read, she would realize it was a short story, written with a genuine Filbert Excaliber plus, titled, 'Penny For Your Thoughts.'


        Dear Diary,
Another incredible day. I tested the pen out again, this time with my neighbor. I wrote a small story involving her and her cat, and it all came true. I probably went a bit overboard, but now I understand a bit more about the pen. It allows me to do anything I want, no matter how impossible. Anything I write or draw becomes true. Unfortunately this makes me ask more question, like did she have a cat before I had written about one? I also wrote she had a similar pen. Did it have powers like mine, or was it my pen all along which changed reality? If I went over right now, would things remain as I had wrote them, or will things change to however they really are? And what about Carl, did he ever really exist? I'll need to do more research before my next test. Maybe find out if she has a sister, or better yet a twin. I know what I'll do. I'll write about her roommate, that is if she ever really had one, and we can all have a three some. Focus Jim, I went a bit far this time. I need to stop and think a bit about the consequences before I do anything more. Maybe I should have the guys in the lab look at this? No, who knows what those bunch of geeks would do. Probably try to take over the world. It would be better if I just locked this pen away somewhere. Maybe that's why Uncle had it hidden in his attic. This thing is too dangerous ... but then another test or two can't hurt. I can stop at any time. Enough for now, I'll let you know how things are going tomorrow.

		Signed
			-Me
		Ps: Odd thought, what if someone else is writing about me? Nyah ...