Rolling over in his bed, Wilfred latched his arm onto the warm body of his still, deeply snoozing wife. He cuddled cozy against her curvy butt, nestled his face in a bed of hair draped upon his pillow, and sank off into a slumber.

Someone was singing. A faint chant Wilfred heard. Clean vocals and it sounded familiar.

Wilfred peeled one eye open, then the other. The moment Wilfred's sight fell on a poster of some rock band plastered on the wall – which was a thorn in the eye for Emma – he realized someone was singing in their bathroom. It was a voice he had heard often. A voice he would not expect to hear so soon.

Wilfred gently climbed out of bed, making sure not to wake his wife, and tiptoed his way to the bathroom. As he crept closer and the singing voice became gradually louder, Wilfred was confident now. Celeste stood showering in the bathroom. His hand rested on the doorknob. Wilfred wanted to know if it was indeed his stepdaughter showering in there, despite the unmistakable sign of her voice. At the same time, he felt some level of restraint for barging into the bathroom while a young lady stood showering in there, and most probably naked.

"What are you doing? Is that Celes I hear in there?"

Wilfred gave a sigh of relief as he saw his wife standing in the hallway with a drowsy look on her face. There was no need for him now to cut the knot. Emma could take a look inside now instead of him.

Wilfred shrugged. "Would you think?"

Emma walked up to him. She placed her hand on the doorknob and hesitated. She dreaded facing her daughter. After their recent spat – whereby Emma learned about the powers of her daughter, which scarred the crap out of her – they haven't spoken.

Wilfred placed his hand on Emma's shoulder. "Shall… shall I go instead?" it took him great courage to say these following few words.

Emma shook her head firmly. "I have to do this."

Lucky me, he thought.

Knock-knock-knock!

"Celes?"

Emma opened the door and stepped inside, emerging herself in a thick veil of steam swirling about. Wilfred peeked over her shoulder, secretly hoping that he could admire his stepdaughter in her birthday suit or at least some part of it.

"Celes? You there?"

Emma flinched when the shower curtain shot open, revealing Celeste's wet dripping countenance.

"Oh, hey Mom! Can you pass me a towel, please?"

"Uhm… yes, of course, dear."

Emma grabbed a towel from the shelf and handed it over to her daughter's hand, jutting out between the curtains. She glanced over her shoulder at her husband with a questioning look. Wilfred merely shrugged in reply. The shower was turned off.

"When did you arrive here exactly?" Emma asked.

"Uhm… half an hour ago, more or less." Celeste's muffled voice spoke while she dried her hair.

"So you've traveled–"

"Why is that weirdo looking at me!" Celeste covered her bosom.

Wilfred quickly turned his head away from his enraged stepdaughter's countenance while shading his eyes.

Stealing glances at your stepdaughter's boobs?! What were you thinking, Fred! He took a step backward when the door slammed closed in his face.

Click-clack, locked.

"There," Celeste continued drying herself off.

Emma saw the door shut close, just like that, like it had a will of its own.

"H-how did you do that?" Emma asked with a slight shivering voice.

She was not very comfortable with being locked up in the bathroom with her daughter, who had the power to shrink stuff. And now she was showcasing some other comic-like skill it seemed.

"Simple, Mom. Like this," Celeste said. Emma saw her stepdaughter's gleeful face looking at her while the shower curtains opened up – without Celeste touching them.

"Pretty cool, right?" Celeste beamed.

Emma gulped.

"Right?" Celeste urged her mother for confirmation.

Emma nodded meekly, with her mouth hanging half-open.

Celeste produced a peal of derisive laughter. "Am I scaring you, Mom?"

Emma said nothing while gaping at her daughter like she was looking at some shady burglar with a gun in his hand. She took a step backward to the door. Celeste saw it, but she merely admired herself in the mirror.

"I've scared many people, haven't I? I've learned a lot about myself these last few weeks, Mom."

"Like what, dear," Emma said, buying some time while sneakily meandering her hand behind her back to find the doorknob.

"Control, Mom. I think I've finally learned the true essence of that word. And you know what? I like it, Mom. I like it a lot!"

Celeste chuckled when Emma's hand rattled the doorknob in a vain attempt to open it up and get the hell away from her scary daughter.

"See! This is exactly what I mean, Mom. You desperately want to leave this room, but you can't. You can only open that door when I allow it."

Celeste stood in front of her mother – towel wrapped around her waist – with her hands on her hips. "Just like weirdo over there in the hallway is only able to move when I allow it. Ain't that right, Freddyboy?!"

Meanwhile, in the hallway, Wilfred's body felt frozen. His brain kept sending signals to his limps, but nothing happened. He stood there glued to the ground like a statue by the will of some invisible force.

Celeste laughed boisterously.

"W-why are you doing this, Celes?" Emma said. She stood staring at her daughter with her back pressed against the door like a cornered prey. Her hand had given up to pry the doorknob open.

"You want my answer to sound cliché, or you want to hear the truth? Ah, fuck it. I will give you both. Because I can, Mom. To be honest, I have no idea where these powers are coming from. If someone or something gave them to me. Or how long it will last before I lose them. The fact is, I enjoy them. A lot. You have no idea how awesome it is to influence someone's life without them knowing it was me who turned their day upside."

"You could have killed people, Celes"

Celeste shrugged. "Well, maybe I did. But is it my fault people start to trample each other in a rage of panic the moment stuff starts to shrink all around them?"

"Do you hear yourself speaking!" Emma found strength in her voice again. "This is not you. You've never been like this. True, you were always a bit of a firecracker, but not evil. Why this fit of cruelty all of a sudden?"

Celeste took a step forward, standing at a stare-down distance with her mother.

"Perhaps I have always been like this, Mom. Maybe you took my demeanor as my actual nature but has it always been a façade. Have you ever thought about that?

"Say, did you know that Wilfred likes me?" Celeste added after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

Emma frowned, perplexed by this seeming off-topic question. "Why, yes, of course, he does, dear. He loves you very much. I'm glad you finally see that."

Celeste shook her head. "No, what I mean is that he really likes me, Mom. Like in a physical way."

"Don't be absurd, sweety! Where are you getting that?"

"I'm not kidding here! He finds me drop-dead gorgeous!

"Shall we ask him?" Celeste asked. "Yes, let's ask him," she added before giving her mother proper time to respond.

Emma shrieked when some invisible force jerked her body to the side, giving the door space to open up – which it did, on its own. Wilfred's eyes shot to the door when it opened up. He was busy mustering all of his willpower to move his body, to break the influence of this invisible force abducting it.

"Care to join us, Fred?" Celeste said with a polite voice. "Mom, your hand, please?"

Before Emma's brain could even process her daughter's question, she saw her own left arm coming to life. It stretched out in front of her with the palm aimed upwards.

Wilfred felt a familiar sensation swirling inside his body and before he knew it, he was looking up at the skyscraper-sized bodies of his wife and stepdaughter. Celeste smiled down upon him with glee in her eyes. His tiny legs flailed helplessly when his body went airborne. Floating upwards, all the way to his wife, until he landed gently on her awaiting hand – which was like the size of a tennis court to him. Wilfred had never seen Emma like this on such a grand scale. It was breathtakingly magnificent. Sure, she was significantly older than her daughter, with visible aging lines on her face. And she was also less attractive – even when comparing her with photos made during her younger years – but she was definitely a very appealing woman. The resemblance was telling. It was only that Celeste's face was more refined, almost perfectly symmetric in relative to her mother's.

"Ahum,"

Wilfred turned around, facing The Goddess herself, who rasped her throat to get his attention. Wilfred swallowed deeply when faced with such divine beauty displaying itself on cinema-screen magnitude. His knees buckled. He wanted so desperately to bow down, to heed every whim of this teen Goddess with her ridiculously alluring eyes. She deserved nothing less than to rule the world.