Costume Party 2- Black Magic

Originally, I wrote this for thestrangeone2380, but now we're sharing our original caps.

Model: Literally Megan Fox

For years I had been the laughingstock of the village. I wanted nothing more than to be known for being myself, rather than being the grandson of the village coward. I grew desperate, and relied on a witch in the woods. This had been either a mistake or a blessing, something I’ve still not figured out.

She lived deep in these woods where it was easy to get turned around. I often found myself back to where I started from, but I had never stopped going straight. It was on my last desperate trek into the woods that I finally came upon the hut. 

The witch made a deal with me. She gave me a riddle, and if I could solve it, she’d give me my wish. It was the one about white horses on a red hill, the answer being white teeth, and red mouth. 

She smiled when I got it. Apparently I was one of the few. She asked my wish, and I could barely stutter it out in anticipation, “I want to be free and severed from my grandfather’s legacy.”

She nodded and smiled, “Your grandfather never could stand up to something as petty as a frail old woman.” She laughed as she went over to an old book. When she opened it, her familiar spirit came out, the frame of a beautiful woman. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t; I was frozen in place, unable to move.

That spirit came up to me and smiled, floating behind me and holding my sides. It started working my skin like clay, shaping it and moulding it. It slimmed my waist and sides, and i could see a lot of excess flesh building up. when it push the flesh down, it almost acted on its own, filling out my hips and ass. I felt it push down on my dick and balls, and I could feel the sucking motion as it used three fingers to push it in, forming feminine folds as my insides shifted and changed. The Spirit grabbed my hair and pulled on it, growing it out, and rubbing my face to mold it. It pulled up on my arms, slimming it, and the excess flesh moved to my chest. The spirit then groped me, and it was so oddly pleasurable. The more it worked them, the more they grew, and all the movement of flesh defined my collarbones in an oh-so feminine way. Finally, it plunged its arm into my neck, and when I tried to cry out, a feminine moan was all that escaped my lips

I tried to speak out in shock, but the witch cut me off. “There you go, my child, you’re now free of your grandfather’s legacy. There is no way you’re his grandson.”

That was months ago now. She gave me some basic clothes, but they were not modest in the least. What I wasn’t prepared for was the intense libido of this body. I can’t remember anything before that point now. My life before the witch, my life in general, is hard to grasp a hold on. Only that moment is concrete in my mind during my fleeting moments of calm-breathed sobriety. I was a favorite at a brothel in a nearby city. I couldn’t complain because I didn’t have any life to compare my situation to. As long as I made the brothel money, I got all the beer, mead, and food I want. Was a win-win for me, since i get to live in ecstasy. I’m never sober, so I’m never sad.

I’m already shimmering with sweat on my chest as I look at the man who just rented me out. It’s a mix of anticipation, excitement, exhaustion, and readiness.