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E-mail: [email protected] Gortikar?s Ring by Jacquie Windsor "This is all I got from the old bitch," lamented Stoddard. "She goes and kicks off and leaves everything to anyone else and their dog--I get some dumb-ass picture." His well-toned body rippled from the waist up; a pair of muscular arms grasped a large framed portrait in the dusty interior of his dead aunt's mansion. "It is an ugly piece of crap," I agreed. "Like a velvet Elvis, practically..." "Yeah--so old this part here is almost worn away. Can't be worth more than fifty bucks at an auction of stupid people." I looked at the painting, a dingy, brown canvas showing some kind of mythical beast looming over a pair of innocent girls. The thing might not have been half-bad if it weren't for the years of grime that had stripped its colour of any lustre or aesthetics. Just bad, worn-out artwork. "You know what we should do to it?" "Burn it?" I laughed. "Piss on it," he said. "Piss on this and piss on the whole fucking bunch of cretins in my family that would scheme to fuck me out of my share of Aunt Betty's fortune." "I guess that beats having to lower yourself to selling it--like I could see the face of any art dealer right now--" Stoddard glared at me. Pissed? Piss on it. We laughed at the stupidity of the situation. He was twenty--one year older than me--and knew the old lady was sick. That was why he had spent the whole of last summer inside her home, taking care of her, knowing that she wasn't long for the world. He knew he would get a nice cut of her fortune. "Whip it out, Marty--we're going to piss away my fortune!" He threw back his head, laid the large painting on the floor, tossed his scraggly blonde hair over his shirtless back, drew out his penis-- as I joined him--and we urinated on the portrait. "This'll show 'er," I grinned, urging a steady yellow stream out of my bowels and onto the artefact. Our conjoined springs of filthy water splashed away the grime, revealing the true ugliness of the object of our contempt. An alabaster haze covered my lines of sight--certainly a trick played by the diffuse light in the mansion's attic--my bones and muscles slowly aching as though a virus had been breeding for weeks and chose this moment to reveal itself. "Stoddard," I cried, alarmed as my limp penis ceased its flow and yet I could not move my arms or fingers enough to zip it safely into my trousers. "Frickin' frick, Marty," he answered, "I fucking can't move. What the frick--?" A hollow minute of strange paralysis went by. The painting on the floor began to shudder, followed by a heavy pounding in my head. The walls ran with blood and a fever stampeded over my skin. The monster in the hideous painting grew hair, fangs and texture. Growing out of the floor that undulated with the heartbeats of a billion cursed souls. "Marty!!!" shouted my closest friend. "What the frickin'--" I felt myself throw a random caution through a rising breeze that pushed the dust-strewn air around the room. Transfixed, I saw a creature form and rise out of the painting, to stand in spectacular, hideous, corporeal reality before us. It's jutting horns rose to nearly touch the twelve-foot ceiling, a behemoth worthy of the name "Devil"--which was all I could muster in the confused minutes that had passed. I gazed away from the Devil, catching a furtive glimpse of the beautiful damsels in the portrait. Our piss had cleared away the awful dirt that eclipsed their true beauty. Sexy, vulnerable women, in awe of the Devil within the painting as Stoddard and I had become while standing paralysed in its presence. Why else had I looked away from the Devil? An obscene, plasticky shaft dangled between its legs--a regal foot-and-a-half long piece of genitalia that turned my stomach. I could not bear to look at the angry monster that utterly filled the cavernous attic. "Freedom for me and my wenches," roared the beast. I wished I could run. Apart from moving my eyes about the shimmering room, I was helpless. Stoddard was similarly fixed to the spot. "I am the mighty Lord Gortikar," bellowed the monster. "You are my slaves for defiling my home." I tried to smile wanly, or even say anything, but the blazing eyes of the monster silenced my tongue. "I shall brook no excuses, for nothing but my command shall matter now. I am a slave myself--in that portrait--in this house--for the wenches have lost my ring." "What the hell can we do about it?" I thought to myself. Lord Gortikar skewered me with a felonious glare. "Shit, man, he can read our frickin' thoughts," peeped Stoddard. He was never this filled with fear--the bravest guy I ever knew--but he'd completely snapped as I was sure I had, at the appearance of this monster. "Silence until Lord Gortikar commands you to speak, heretic," growled the Devil. "I need that ring. You must return it to me. I am inside this house until I get it, yet I know how to force you to do my bidding. "You must become my wenches until you find that ring. This parchment has the location where the Captor has concealed it. All these years your Aunt tried herself until she aged, sickened and died. So your release will only arrive when you do as I command before twenty-four hours pass." Somewhere, through the paralysing stupor, I heard the deep resonance of a chiming clock. Twelve strokes. So, we had been trapped for over an hour as Lord Gortikar forced his will upon us. And the worst was yet to come. "You cannot retrieve the parchment nor the ring," boomed the Lord, "without becoming the wenches. Ha-ha!!! Three mere minutes and you shall understand completely what I require of you." At that, the fog became less dense. As numbness crawled through me, I looked over at Stoddard. My jaw loosened. His naked torso shrank in height and density. His hair thickened into a streaky, frosty mane. Most surprising, as I felt a change overcome me, I saw his chest billow into a set of magnificent, round breasts. Something peculiar dropped upon my foot, and I peered down at myself. My proud cock had fallen off, although it was hard to see it- -a pair of heavy knockers nearly tore through my T-shirt. Crazy. My eyes darted about the room, searching for a reference point--as though I ought to be dreaming or on an intense mushroom high--all I found was the urine-stained painting, depicting a pair of frightened boys beneath the silhouette of an ungodly beast. "What is this?" I cried. "You are my wenches now," sneered Lord Gortikar. "You will soon have the parchment--you there--" The demon pointed at Stoddard. "I understand you have a name. No--not Stoddard, but Angela, for you are a gorgeous angel to me. And you--" He turned his hideous gaze to me. "You are my sunrise--and you are called Dawn for that reason--" As both Angela and I stood there, as though we expected an explanation, or a reprieve from this nightmare, the enormous member that swung lifeless between Lord Gortikar's legs, now rose, aroused at the physical presence of his subservient concubines. "No--please--" I implored. "Just let us do whatever it takes to get that ring returned to you." "I must provide you with a taste of your destiny should you fail me," shouted the beast. "Twenty-four hours may pass and you may find yourselves delighting in your freedom. Yes. I know you might flee-- or think your fate is not so harsh-- "I know better than you what will become of you if the ring does not pass back into my possession. And so you must taste it to understand. You will be doing this for eternity if my ring is not brought back, intact--" At that, the horrible creature stepped forward in a swift motion and clasped its evil claws upon Angela's shoulders. She crumpled easily under the force and felt the giant erection press against her tender lips, then burst into her mouth and grind itself without mercy until satisfaction was obtained. 12:15 a.m. Apr. 01, 2000 Even though our motor skills had returned somewhat to normal, neither Angela nor I could voluntarily turn to flee from the demon. The hairy creature withdrew its grotesque pink member from her dripping lips and ordered me to strip. Although my inner senses fought the command, I was helpless to resist. Once naked, I obeyed his instructions to take a position on my elbows and knees on the floor. "There are only a couple more things before you embark on this quest," Lord Gortikar boomed. "You have no doubt felt how helpless you feel in the presence of a male. Such is the essence of your entangled souls, my kittens." I felt his powerful hands take hold of my buttocks, now offered in the air to whatever he had planned. The nipples of my fleshy breasts rested on the dusty hardwood as the monster's erection entered my newly-formed vagina from behind. "You now possess some minor spells to assist you in your quest. You will be able to read the arcane script containing the location of the Captor and his minions. As my willing sex slaves, you will have the instant ability to change your clothes, make-up and hair with a simple thought spell--and I know you will wish to appear perpetually attractive to the superior male in every way--" The Lord filled my pussy with his slippery tool and rocked easily back and forth as his stentorian voice shook the room. My big boobs slapped up into my chin, and a stubborn elation erased my fears. I was really loving this--on all fours in a sexy female form being banged so casually by some kind of weird storybook demon. His warm fluid gushed into my womb and I heard a faint shriek emerge from my throat. I fought the instinct to ask Lord Gortikar not to stop. "You will turn mad with uncontrolled lust should this quest not succeed," warned the demon. "And I will make sure you keep that part of your minds that remind you of who you were and how this happened to you. Make no mistake." I slowly lifted myself off the floor. The demon cackled in an unearthly tone and stepped away from us, enshrouded briefly in a smoky swirl, then vanished into the painting whence it had come. Angela's thick lips formed into a mischievous smile. "What!?" I demanded. "I think you really liked that," she said. "Liked which? Being turned into a girl? Or getting screwed on all fours on the floor?" "Ha-ha--both--" she teased. "So what if I did--God, Angela, you've still got monster-come dripping off your chin." She daubed her chin and giggled. "I guess I do. Oh well, who cares? I wonder if it's really true that we can dress and wear our make-up any way we want." "You're worried about clothes? Angela--we're going to be permanently that demon's playthings unless we find this ring of his..." "But you're not the least bit curious?" I had to admit that I was. We tried the innate commands that Lord Gortikar had sown into our minds. And they worked. 4:00 a.m. Apr. 01, 2000 "Shit--Angela--we've been playing dress-up now for over three hours!! We can't waste any more time." "Omigod, you're so right," squealed the blonde goddess. "Let's just do one eentsy one more and then we'll go find the ring, K?" "OK, but just one," I laughed. A minute later, Angela stood before me, her hair swirled into a saucy ponytail with thick strands curling lightly over her ears. Her face shone with unbelievable sexuality--highlighted blue cat's eyes, thick pink lips, and the smoothness of a new-born. I stared in admiration of the outfit she had chosen. A single black leather garment with a bright silver zipper from the waist to her bust. Her large breasts and deep cleavage were anything but subtle, and the apparel clung to every luscious curve of her body. As a girl, she was considerably shorter than Stoddard had been, and she compensated by selecting a pair of knee-high, stiletto-heeled black boots for her feet. "Oh you bitch," I cried, "how am I going to ever compete with that?" I did my best though. I chose a bright red lipstick and exaggerated eye shadow. My hair styled itself magically into a cascade of red- streaked brunette locks, falling halfway down my back. As Angela had done, I chose clothing to draw attention to my proud boobs--a black- satin bra under a sheer white top that fell off my shoulders. A sequinned lime-green mini-skirt hugged my hips and a pair of sexy white sandals with three-inch heels appeared on my small, feminine feet. "Me? A slut? You oughtta see yourself, Dawn--you're outrageous!" I squinted at her and stuck out my tongue. "Oh yeah--so let's see this parchment and find out where the Captor lives," I sneered in mock envy. 6:15 a.m. Apr. 01, 2000 "Oh this was sure too hard, wasn't it? Number 81, 16th Street. Right in there." Angela pointed at a big, old house. It sat on a large lot near a railway yard. The coming daylight illuminated the grounds and building, although the presence of a high wall and thick hedges restricted our vision. "I'd try and climb a tree to get a better look," I said, "but I don't want to rip my top or anything." "Yeah, like that would make you look like a whore," she teased. "God forbid!" "Angela, serious, like what's the plan? Go up to the gate, just open it and walk in there? Like, yeah, Captor-or-whatever--where's that demon ring you stole?" "Do you have any better idea?" I was genuinely puzzled. Straight and simple. Besides, I found that my ability to reason through a pile of options was a little skewed. "Hmm--it might be the proper thing, Ang--'cause seriously I can't think of any other way to do this." As the sunrise grew and spread, a young teenaged boy on a bicycle rode along the sidewalk towards us, several rolled-up newspapers in its basket. He scarcely slowed as he hurled one of the papers over the gate where it plunked halfway up the flagstone path. The boy ogled us skeptically for a split-second before weaving across the street and out of site. "Well, I guess someone does live there," I said. "Yeah, they probably read newspapers and everything," whispered Angela, excited. I couldn't tell whether she was serious. The porchlight flicked off and soon we saw the front door of the house swing open. "Hey--hey, mister," waved Angela. A heavy, bearded man in his forties stepped onto the porch, looking down for the paper when he heard Angela's indiscreet yelling. "He sees us--he's coming over," Angela grinned innocently. Her candour astonished me, yet her straightforward approach appeared to be working well. "Who are you girls?" asked the stranger warily. "We're here to see the Captor," smiled Angela. "The Captor? Hmm--" The bearded man stared at us, stroking his tangled facial hair. "Do you maybe mean Tobacco? He's maybe who you mean?" "That's him, I am pretty sure," nodded Angela. I rolled my eyes and bit my lip. Now my buxom, blonde friend was just making things up. "Why don't you both come on in. I mean, dressed like that you are going to make the neighbourhood wonder what's going on here." I looked around at the other houses on the street. It looked as though half of them were empty, but I understood the man's concern. We really did look like a couple of hookers, standing out there in the street. "I'm Angela; this is Dawn. What's your name?" "Freddy. After you, ladies, and watch your step." He followed us up the steps to the door--still ajar. I felt he was staring at our asses, which were admittedly quite attractive, especially considering our choice of wardrobe. The interior of the house was rough and a little smelly. Freddy motioned us to take a seat near a cluttered kitchen table. "Wait here and I'll get Tobacco," he rasped. "Don't forget to tell him to bring the ring, too," Angela said brightly. 7:15 a.m. Apr 01, 2000 We relaxed at the kitchen table until Freddy returned with the man we had been seeking. We resisted the urge to try on some more of our outfits: 'Just a little freshening up to my hair-do?' peeped Angela. I glared at her, then grinned in resignation as I saw her ponytail lengthen slightly and the band change colour from pink to a soft lavender. "Men never notice a new hair-do anyhow," she scoffed. Tobacco--the Captor of Lord Gortikar's pronouncements--was a handsome man with a deep olive complexion. Freddy arrived at his side and introduced him to us. "Please excuse me, girls," smiled the athletic man, "since I just had a shower. I usually wear more than a towel wrapped around my waist." "Why?" peeped Angela. Tobacco's lips broadened into a toothy grin. He pointed at Angela, extending his firm left hand, one finger sporting an expensive- looking ring. "I like her, Freddy. She's got taste, dammit." "Oh--oh my God," panted Angela. "Is that the ring?" "Uh--what ring?" inquired the gorgeous hunk. "The ring that you stole from Lord Gortikar," I explained, half disbelieving both our good fortune and the stark naivety of my answer. "What if it is?" "Well, if it is, we have to take it back to the mansion so the demon will give us our male bodies back," replied Angela. Puzzlement crossed the brows of both Freddy and Tobacco. "What we mean, of course," I said, trying to cure them of their doubt, "is that that ring right there is the one we--I mean--the twelve-foot demon-wizard--uh--he needs it back by tonight--or we are stuck being his sex slaves--" That didn't sound right either. "Are you ladies fucked up on dope or something?" asked Tobacco. "No-o-o-o," Angela whined. "You're the Captor, right? Well, that's the ring--right there on your hand. We need it back--oh, it's so complicated my brain hurts." "I don't doubt that," he smiled. "Maybe we can arrange some kind of deal for it?" Tobacco stripped off his towel with a flourish. Our jaws dropped and eyes widened at the wonderfully-growing tent-pole he'd had concealed. "Freddy, let's escort these beautiful ladies into the living room-- they look a little uncomfortable here in the kitchen." The grizzled one stumbled out of his pants, showing his own rising member to us, beneath a hairy belly. "Gotcha, Tobacco. Do you want the brunette or the blonde?" I realised the futility of resistance, as the demon's spell forced Angela and I to accept the deal in spite of our consciences. "You said you used to be guys?" queried Tobacco, arriving at my blonde companion's side and reaching down to boldly unzip the front of her tight outfit. "I ain't going to find some little 'surprise' down there, then am I?" His hand crept under the leather garment at her crotch, and Freddy tugged my skirt up to my waist. "This one's cool," advised Freddy, placing his hand on my bush and pressing one finger against my pussy lips. Tobacco nodded in agreement. "C'mon, girls--let's go," he urged, and we happily went with them, arms linked, into the living room. Freddy helped me onto my back on the couch, clumsily entangling my top and my bra in my hair as he removed them. I wriggled free of the garments, mildly annoyed by Freddy's excitement to strip me without regard for my hair or clothing. I hid my discomfort as the warmth of the magic compelled me to feel and stroke his cock. "Gorgeous firm knockers on this one," drooled the sidekick, "how's yours, Tobacco?" Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Angela had already begun to earn the ring. She was naked and kneeling with her back to us. Tobacco was laying back on the other sofa with a crooked smile-- eyes closed--and Angela's sweet head bobbing up and down on his dick. His strong arms rolled off her shoulders as she sucked, and he crouched forward from time to time to fondle her over-sized tits. "They're into it," smiled Freddy. "Guess I better shut up and get you some sex--hey?" With the green skirt rolled up to my waist, Freddy pried my legs open and flopped on top of me, burying his hairy head in my cleavage. I squished my breasts together between my arms, and felt for his cock down by my crotch. I writhed and wiggled my ass to position my pussy properly, and guided his boner into place. Immediately, he began to puff and groan, humping me with such force that I felt I was falling right through the couch. The high-pitched orgasmic shrieks I heard were my own. Freddy's incessant fucking style sub-consciously pulverised any semblance of modesty I thought I had. "You--love--it--don't--you--bitch--?" he grunted. "Ya-aa--aa--uuh--ooh--" I was in a panting, mindless, frothing, orgasmic seizure. "Yeah--uh--Ooh--", he answered, blasting his sperm into me. Rolling off of me and onto a squatting position on the floor, the sweaty man gasped for breath. I had lost mine too, along with most of my mind. I couldn't get over how much I liked it. Freddy rose slowly to his feet, looking down sadly at his limp cock, still slick from our juices. I didn't even notice how much time had passed, yet I saw Angela across the room on the other couch, grinning and lying provocatively on her tummy, hugging a cushion. Tobacco stood up at the same time Freddy did, and each of them traded 'thumbs- up' signs and gazed fondly upon their new conquests. "So do we get the ring?" gushed Angela. "Freddy and me--we need a smoke first. We'll think about it. Shall we retire to the kitchen for a puff, old chum?" "Capital idea," laughed Freddy in a mock British accent. "Smashing-- indeed." 8:05 a.m. Apr. 01, 2000 "They're sure taking their sweet time," sniffed Angela, resting on the couch in a seated position, supporting her head in her hands. Leaning forward slightly, her enormous breasts dangled almost to her knees. Similarly sitting on the couch on the opposite side of the living room, I gazed downwards at my own tits, which were nearly as voluminous as hers. "Well, I think we have plenty of time," I responded in a stupor, partly brought on by the post-orgasmic letdown that I felt. "Maybe we could try on something different," shrugged my blonde partner. She pointed a delicate toe at her leather jumpsuit that lay on the floor. "That's a kewl idea, Ang. You are so clever." We frittered away the minutes by cautiously checking to make sure neither of our hosts was within visual range. One by one, we mentally manufactured costumes and hairstyles to adorn our curvy shapes. By the time Tobacco and Freddy returned, I had completely forgotten our original garb. This was too much fun--and so instant that any girl would have chewed glass to trade spots with us. "Something's definitely different about you," Tobacco opined, gazing first at Angela, then at me, a puzzled grimace crossing his face. "Oh, this ol' thing?" laughed Angela. Her outfit would have shamed any woman except for Madonna or Mae West. A black corset drew in her slender waist a couple more inches, allowing her magnificent breasts to rest upon half-cups. Two sturdy straps held it in place, and a gossamer aquamarine boa snaked from one hand, up behind her neck, and down the other arm. The base of the corset stopped right where her hips began to flare, and garters connected it to seamed stockings running the length of her shapely thighs and calves. Her narrow feet were severely arched by black heels--they had to have five-inch heels if anything. How was I to compete with that? My selection was a private girls' school uniform, complete with my hair parted into braided pigtails. A matching grey skirt and vest, with starchy white blouse, bobby socks and flat heels, did nothing to hide my own large breasts and pale, inviting legs. "Yeah," muttered Freddy, agreeing with his much-more-handsome co- habitant. "I was sure you had something else on before." "Well," blinked Angela, "we can change our clothes and hair magically." "Angela!" "Hey, as long as you fuck like bunnies, I couldn't care less if you said you lived on Jupiter," snickered Tobacco. "So--do we get the ring or what?" queried the blonde bombshell. "I thought about it--you said you don't need it until tonight, right?" "Yeah, like at the latest," I answered. "Hey--then you won't mind entertaining the whole gang. I phoned up a dozen of my closest friends. They'll be over in two shakes." Hardly had he uttered those words when the house shook with the sound of motorcycle engines gathering in the outside yard. Freddy and Tobacco ushered the bikers into the room, where they politely removed their boots, along with their leather riding gear, and all of their clothing. 5:35 p.m. Apr. 01, 2000 I found myself cheering, along with the twelve other men in the room, as Angela performed the finale of the gangbang. On her knees in front of two guys, she expertly fit both cocks into her mouth and slurped on them until they came. "I have to admit it," Tobacco beamed, "you certainly earned the ring. Both of you." I looked down at my tits, where streaks of dried semen proved his words. "We'll have to use the bathroom to freshen up," I smiled. "C'mon Angela." As Angela pouted at the prospect of having to leave the sm?rg?sbord of well-hung man meat, our task was complete. With plenty of time to spare. "I never knew you could take a cock in your pussy and ass at the same time," she teased me before we entered the shower stall together and washed the spunk off each other. "Not like I could refuse," I smiled. We towelled and clothed, using the magical powers given to us by the demon-wizard earlier in the day. Even when we tried to look like normal girls, we were still knock-outs. "No matter what I do, my boobs still stick out like crazy." She was right. Angela's modest scarlet blouse and tailored brown pantsuit, with her golden tresses piled high on her head in a sophisticated hair-do, still conveyed a feminine sensuality almost beyond words. I hadn't even the resolve to try to appear so modest. I wore a simple V-neck top, hot pants and heels. "Not even a bra, Dawn? You won't get five yards outside and men will be all over you." "It's the price we pay," I shrugged. Tobacco and Freddy were in the kitchen, bidding farewell to the last of the guests, when we returned to collect our prize. "I don't know how you babes manage to do that," intoned Tobacco, "but I can't say I care, really. You're both pretty hot. Here--take the ring--and here's our phone number in case you feel like entertaining any time soon." "Oh, maybe," we answered in unison. "I'd never be able to go through that again," I muttered to Angela as we left and returned to the mansion where Gortikar awaited. 10:35 p.m. Apr. 01, 2000 The front door of the mansion creaked open as we sought refuge from the evening chill descending upon the city. We were excited at our triumph, although we almost lost our way back. As we expected, the giant monster was upstairs in the attic. "H-hello," peeped Angela in a dainty voice as we approached the chamber. "Do you have the ring?" growled the beast. "Yes we do," I announced proudly, as Angela retrieved it from the vest pocket of her smart outfit. The monster took the object, hissed momentarily, then gazed at Angela with fire in his eyes. "Let me see that parchment," Gortikar roared. Angela complied. "This is not it," boomed the threatening giant. He thrust the paper back into her hand. I looked at the scrap of paper and stifled the urge to giggle. "Angela, that's the phone number of those guys, not the parchment he gave us." She fumbled wide-eyed through the other pockets and exhaled forcefully when, at last, she found the proper document. "Here it is--sorry--Geez--" The monster glowered at her. Seizing the ancient parchment between two hairy digits, Gortikar squinted at the inscription. "Okay, you promised. That's the ring, so we want ourselves returned to normal." The demon burned inside as we chattered about our rights, the oath and other senseless trivia. "Silence, slaves," he commanded with a bellicose authority. "This is not the ring. The Captor was found at Number 91, 18th Street--is this not correct? He cannot have refused to deal with you--I provided you with ample charm to obtain what you went there for." "Hold it--what did you say the address was?" I asked. He repeated his words, holding out the parchment where the numerals appeared. I gawked at it with a sinking heart. From where we stood, the writing was inverted. "We went to Number 81--" "--Sixteenth Street--" Angela chimed in. "But he said he was the Captor," I argued. "Dawn--um--just a second--think back. He never said he was the Captor. We told him we thought he was." I was furious. How could we have agreed to the whole deal without confirming who the man was? "Ha-ha-ha--" bellowed Gortikar. "I see in your minds what you have done to deserve this worthless trinket." He idly threw the ring into a dusty corner of the room. "How much more shall you do for me--your True and Eternal Master?" The door slammed shut behind us. "No," we cried, clutching onto one another as fear disintegrated into lust. The demon-wizard, resigned to being a permanent resident in the attic, advanced upon us. "I will have a wonderful time with the both of you--my everlasting concubines--" Angela and I felt every thought of flight expunged from our truly subservient minds as we began to disrobe. < The End >