Magic Knife
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Magic Knife -- Part Two free porn video
Magic Knife -- part two revised
By
Girl-psp
Finally I stopped and lay there panting, my chest heaving, looking at my
breasts through half lidded eyes. The feelings were wonderful, but I
missed the release of a male orgasm. What I'd been doing felt like all
foreplay, no reward. I missed my penis.
I stood shakily, the feeling of the weight of my breasts strange and
disorienting, and looked at myself in the mirror. It was so weird. The
shapely, curved flesh I was now clothed in, that I was using to breath,
to think, to live, was what I had spent my adolescence and adult life
imagining and lusting after. The swell of my breasts, the curve of my
hips and butt, these had been the subject of a thousand fantasies, and
now they were part of me, inseparable from my every movement. I dropped
my gaze to my womanly crotch, and saw the base of my cock poking out
between my pussy lips. I had forgotten about it and left it inside me.
I grasped the severed end and pulled. It came out with a slight sucking
sound, and I saw it was covered with my juices. I lifted it to my mouth
and licked them off, tasting my woman's odor on my severed male member. I
saw there was a damp spot on the floor where my butt had rested.
Apparently I was a wet kind of girl. I had had a few like that in my day,
with this same penis I was now holding in my hands and licking off. Now
it was useless as anything except a dildo.
Frustrated, I tossed my cock on the bed and walked off towards the
bathroom to take a shower. With every step I took my pussy lips rubbed
together and my breasts bobbed up and down. When my wife got back I would
have her regrow my penis, I decided. I didn't like the feeling of
emptiness between my legs, the ache demanding to be filled. It was worse
in a way than when I'd had nothing at all there. I almost went back and
put my cock inside myself again, just to make it go away.
The shower was wonderful, though. It was almost as though my skin was
thinner, and the sensation was amazing as I rubbed the unfamiliar curves
and swellings of my body under the stream of hot water.
Once done, I toweled off (I had worn my hair long for a time as a teen,
so drying it was not as strange as it could have been) and started
looking through my wife's clothes for something to wear. I decided on a
white bra and panties, and a sleep shirt. It wasn't as though I was
expecting visitors, after all.
I had a difficult time squeezing my breasts into the bra, and by the time
I finally managed to fasten it, I suspected it was a bit small. At least
it kept my chest somewhat under control when I walked.
The white cotton panties fitted differently than any underwear I had ever
worn. The way they clasped my hips was odd, as though they might fall off
if I made a wrong move. That was apparently my imagination, however,
because when I stretched and bent they stayed securely in place. I didn't
like they way they felt, however. The fabric between my legs seemed to
magnify my smoothness and lack of manhood.
The sleep shirt was fine, although so short that if I'd still been a man
my penis and balls would have hung down below the hem. The clothing
really brought home the changes I had gone through. This was all there
was to my body, I was all woman.
I started off toward the kitchen to get some breakfast, then turned back
and picked up my cock. It was stupid, but it had been an essential part
of me for years, and I didn't like to be too far away from it.
When my wife came in the door I was using my penis as a straw, the head
in my mouth and the severed end in a glass of orange juice, sucking juice
up through the urethra. She did a double take at the sight, then came
over to try it, giggling delightedly.
"If you'd always ejaculated so sweet, I'd never have cut it off," she
said with a grin.
"Do you have the knife with you?" I asked after a moment.
"Of course," she said, taking the head of my cock out of her mouth. Beads
of orange juice dotted it. "What do you want to do with it?"
"Well," I said. "If you don't mind I like to have my manhood again. It
might be neat to keep my body looking like a woman, but I miss my
package."
She nodded, stirring the orange juice with my penis. "Sure. I understand
how it could be a trifle upsetting."
She got up and walked back to the bedroom, and I followed as I had the
night before. Once there she pulled her clothes off and then helped me
out of mine, grinning broadly when she saw the filled to bursting bra I
was wearing.
"I think you're bigger up top than I am," she said, unsnapping the bra.
She lowered her head and suckled on my nipples for a moment, leaving me
gasping in excitement, then opened her purse and drew out the knife. She
motioned to me to lie back on the bed as she changed the settings on the
knife, pressing on the jewels in the handle until they glowed, then she
used one finger to work my clitoris out of its hood and touched the blade
to it. Something about the knife seemed slightly different, as though the
pattern of jewels had changed, but I dismissed it as my imagination.
"You sure you want to do this?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. "Maybe we can try it again later, but right now I want to
be a man."
She nodded and sliced off my clit. The feeling was weirdly similar to
when she had severed my penis, the same shock from the nerves, but
without the feeling of pulsing excitement that had accompanied the
previous occasion.
Instead of the body covering tingle that I had felt before, a feeling of
heat surrounded me - for a searing instant it felt as though I was being
burned alive - then the feeling snapped off. I looked over my breasts at
my groin, waiting eagerly for my penis and balls to rise up out of the
flatness, but all that happened was that my clit regrew, exactly as it
had been before she cut it off.
"What- ?" I started to say, when she yelled and dropped the knife. I sat
up quickly to see what was wrong, the surge of my breasts almost pulling
me off the bed.
The knife was glowing white hot, the blade curling up and splintering,
the gems in the handle bursting in the intense heat. As I watched a black
scorch mark appeared around it and smoke rose from the carpet.
My wife dashed into the kitchen, coming back a few seconds later with a
bowl full of water which she dumped on the burning carpet. There was an
explosion of steam, and when it cleared all that remained of the knife
were a few twisted pieces of blacked metal.
"My god!" I exclaimed. "What happened?"
"I don't know," she said. "Let me see if I can find out."
She passed her hands over the knife, feeling for the traces of magic,
then did the same to me. I felt a tingle emanate from her fingers as she
passed them over my body. Anxiety coursed through me. Did this mean I was
stuck this way, a woman for the rest of my life?
"Damn," she said, finally.
"What's wrong?" I asked anxiously.
"I think I see what happened here. I brought the new knife we made,
instead of the old one. There is a part of the spell that protects the
newly transformed person from something happening to them, like getting
pregnant or hurt. When I used the new knife it interacted with the spell
from the old one and drained all the power out of it, preventing any
change from being made in your body."
"What do we do?" I asked. "I don't want to stay this way."
"I'll have Jane bring over the other one and see if that will work. It
may not, though. The mix of signatures from the two could have formed
into a new signature, and if so it will protect itself from any
tampering."
She looked down, then took my hand. Before, my change her hands used to
disappear inside mine; now they were the same size.
"I'm sorry this happened. The circle never considered the possibility of
this kind of interference. I just want you to know that no matter what, I
love you. Nothing can change that."
She took me in her arms, her breasts pressing into mine, and kissed me
deeply. Then she went over to the phone and dialed Jane.
I sat on the edge of the bed, naked and dickless, the sheets pressing up
lightly between my legs, against my pussy, and tried to control my
feelings. Normally I'm fairly calm in the face of problems, but now I
wanted to burst into tears. It's just hormones, I thought. The body may
be different, there may be new hormones running through your system, but
the mind is the same. In my mind, I'm the same man I always was. The mind
is what matters.
I barely heard what passed on the phone with Jane, and after she was
finished talking my wife came over to the bed and held me, comforting me.
She kissed me again, the motion made awkward by our breasts bumping into
each other. I couldn't get used to them, like two balloons on my chest.
About twenty minutes later Jane came in, carrying the other knife. She
looked at me without apparent surprise. Magic slows aging, and the women
of the circle have seen a lot. I still don't know exactly how old my wife
is, but I've gathered from her talk that she was born sometime before the
first World War. Jane looked at my wife, who acknowledged her glance with
a nod, then set the knife on the bed table and left without a word.
My wife picked it up and held it close to my body, feeling around it with
her outstretched fingers. She frowned, looked at me, then shook her head
and set it back down on the table.
"Surely there must be some other way?" I said desperately.
She shook her head again. "No. Trying any other spell on you would have
the same effect. If it was used from an object, the object would be
destroyed, if a person tried it, they'd die. I'm sorry."
Despite my determination not to cry, I burst into tears. I was stuck. I
would never again have a hard cock between my legs. Not my own. Last
night, when my wife sliced off my cock, had been the last moment of my
manhood.
She drew me close and I stiffened, then relaxed into her grip. It wasn't
her fault. She didn't do this to me on purpose.
"Listen, honey," she said. "There is one thing. Only women can use the
kind of magic we use. There are other traditions that men can do, but the
circle is only women. It takes a long time. It would be decades before
you grew skilled enough, but with practice you could become a witch.
Eventually you would be able to lift the spell. It protects you, so it
won't strike against you when you work on it. One day you could be a man
again, if you want. Would you like that?"
I nodded, my face buried in her breasts, tears running down my cheeks. I
would work as long as it took to undo this.
After a time her comforting turned into something else. I kissed her on
the lips and breasts and stomach, working my way down to her pussy, then
used my tongue on her clit until she was at the brink of orgasm. In my
passion I forgot what I was now, and pulled myself up her body to kiss
her on the lips, pushing my groin into hers, thinking to thrust my penis
inside her. But of course I no longer had one, and there was just the
sensation of my pussy lips rubbing against hers.
I groaned aloud in frustration, and as she started to move down my body
so she could press her mouth to my vagina I said, "God, I wish I could
put my cock in you!"
She paused for a moment, then rolled out from under me and ran lightly of
towards the kitchen. She came back a minute latter with my penis in her
hand, sucking the orange juice residue out of it.
"Here," she said, tossing it to me. "Use this."
She lay down beside me, and I rolled onto her, using one hand to thrust
my severed cock into her. She cried out, and I thrust it in and out like
a dildo. If only I could feel it. If only...
I pulled it part way out of her and lowered myself onto the end where it
had been cut off of my body, until it was four or five inches inside me,
a surge of pleasure radiating out of my vagina and clitoris up into my
nipples as it penetrated me, then clamped down on it with my groin
muscles as hard as I could and pushed it into her. It was hard keeping
hold of it to pull it back out, but I managed, and thrust repeatedly into
her, using it like a double dildo. After a while she clamped down on it,
and I felt a shock of surprise when I raised my hips for another trust,
and my cock pulled out of my pussy. She rolled over atop me, assuming the
male position above me, and began using it on me, thrusting the severed
end of my cock in and out of my pussy, keeping a better hold on it than I
had because of the cock's bulbous head inside her.
It was pleasurable, but hard work, difficult to get any friction, and my
cock was just not long enough for both of us. Finally she stood up off me
and discarded my penis, chucking it on the floor, and picked up the
knife.
"What - ?" I asked.
"Hush," she said, and used it to cut off her clit. There was a pause,
then the flesh at the top of her vagina rippled and expanded, growing out
into a penis. It was somewhat smaller than mine had been, about seven
inches long and a little thinner, but very nice. She still had her vagina
under it, where her balls should have been, and looking closely at the
penis head I saw that there was no hole in the end. It was really a giant
clit.
"Okay," she said, and pushing me down, drove herself into me. The feeling
was amazing. I'd had no inkling of the difference between a dead,
preserved penis, like mine, and a living, throbbing one like she now
possessed. It was like night and day. As her muscular body hovered over
mine, her breath coming in short gasps, drops of sweat falling from her
wildly bobbing breasts, her cock thrusting into me, a tidal wave of
pleasure passed through me which left me limp and gasping, unable even to
control my limbs. It was a real orgasm, and the best I had ever had.
*****
That was thirty years ago. I'm a witch now and I could have broken the
protective spell a long time ago. But I haven't, and I don't intend to.
Not because I consider myself a woman; I'm as much a man as I can be,
what with having a vagina between my legs. But gender is not in the body,
as any transsexual who considers themselves of the other sex despite
spending years growing up in the body of their birth sex knows, and
having one's body become a woman's does not make one really a woman.
The reason I haven't broken the spell is because in thirty years neither
my wife nor I look like we have aged a day. As a witch I have something
close to immortality, and that is worth more to me then my cock and
balls.
I've experienced the full range of female sexuality, from childbirth
(witches have ways and ways) to rape. Yes rape. I keep the genitals of
the man who did it in a jar of formaldehyde in the basement, and believe
me, I didn't use a magic knife when I cut them off. Yet I still consider
myself a man. My children call me father. It's a matter of the mind, and
that doesn't change just because the body does.
Tamera
- 12.02.2022
- 13
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