Fur Better Or Worse

            I couldn't believe it. Yet, there it was, the fur jacket that once belonged to my horrible stepmother. I never saw her without it, and I remember her always rubbing her manicured hands on the fur. She treated that fur jacket better than she treated me. When my dad first met her, she was wearing that jacket. He fell hard and fast for her. Every date they went on, she wore that fur jacket. She once said that the fur was fake, but I didn't believe a thing out of her lying mouth. Then, they got married, and my life went in the toilet.

            With every chance she got, she ordered me around. I was treated more like a servant than a child. It left me disheartened that my dad was too blinded by love to see this homewrecking harpy for what she was, pure evil with an hourglass body and thick thighs. I tried to hide my enthusiasm when my dad and I learned that she was killed in a traffic accident. She couldn't be buried with the jacket, so we were stuck with it.

            I had my own plans for the jacket, but I made the mistake of telling a friend and confidant about it first. She never knew what it was like to wear a fur jacket. If only I realized sooner that she was more impressionable than I thought.

            "What's so bad about it?" She asked me. "Seems harmless. You'd think that this was the source of your stepmom's power over you."

            I honestly thought that the fur jacket was the source of her power, given that she wore it everywhere she went. She seemed inseparable from it. She even wore it when out grocery shopping. Meanwhile, I was so caught up in my thoughts, I didn't notice my friend trying on the fur.

            My friend called out for me and blurted out, "Before you do anything, I'm going to wear this around for a while, just to know what it's like."

            What upset me was not that she said it, but that she said it with authority, that she was telling me, not asking me. I wanted to tell her off but before I could, she took off with the jacket. I hadn't seen her since. All this time, I thought she would eventually return it or, at the very least, call me so I can take it back. Instead, I saw an absolute doppelgänger of my dead ex-stepmother before me, clad in only the jacket, lingerie, and stilettos.

             "Surprised?" She asked me. Her voice sounded so weird. It was a distorted mixture of hers and my friend's. "I suppose you thought that I was some ordinary fur jacket, didn't you? Well, your friend was easily surprised when she discovered my power for herself. If only you were here to see how easily she was swayed. As soon as she rubbed her plump fingers on me, she saw what I was capable of as those fingers became thinner and manicured. The rest of her physical transformation would quickly follow. Then, once she got a good look at her--OUR new body, she realized what your departed stepmother had learned long ago, that I could not only change her body but give her power over others. Now, I doubt she will remove me voluntarily, even for you. She and I are one, dare I say it, fur better or worse."

            I stood there, dumbfounded, as the fur jacket with seemingly a life of its own and the person that wore it laughed at my expense. It never occurred to me that this thing of fashion had sentience, let alone the power to change a person's body. Nobody but my friend and I knew what this thing was capable of, and nobody would believe it. I was at a loss for words as this abomination took control of someone I trusted and got away with it, like she--it said, fur better or worse.