Wand, Book And Candle, Part 3 free porn video

Wand, Book and Candle, Part 3 By Elliot Reid I hefted the 'phone, punched in the long-distance number and tried to ease back in the chair by my computer. My head, cushioned by a mass of unfamiliar hair, rested against the wall as I tilted back. I was cocooned in the femme pinkness of my bedroom, still glowing from my pool encounter with Tisha. As soon as I had gotten back I'd shucked off the starched school clothes. Having spent the day prancing around in my hot new body I had a monkish need not to be distracted by the flesh. So I decanted myself into the nondescript uniform of the teen: T-shirt and jeans. They were comfortable, baggy and asexual. For the first time all day I felt almost normal. The 'phone birred until I heard the echoey clack of a pickup. "Hello?" said a voice. It was a woman's voice, smooth and with a touch of sugar. I recognized it as Abi, Dad's witchy girlfriend. "Hi, Abi. This is Scott, uh, Scotia. Is Dad there?" There was silence, then a puzzled reply. "Who is this?" "It's Scott!" I piped into the mouthpiece, vocal cords cracking. My new voice had a scratchy quality that came out when stressed. "I mean, it's Owen's kid. I need to talk to him! It's about the wand!" There was a moment's pause, and then: "You sound like a girl." "I know, I did that with the wand," I replied, knowing how bizarre that sounded even to my ears. Again, a hush at the far end of the 'phone. I raised my legs off the floor and focused on my bare feet, poking out from my jeans. They were strong and shapely, and slightly turned in towards each other. Then it struck me: Abi clearly still knew me as a boy. The magic that altered reality had somehow left her unaffected. Why? "Owen's not here," said Abi, speaking more softly, now. "But I can get him to call you on Tuesday when he's back." "Please," I said, desperately. "This magic. I need to talk to him about it! I need to understand more!" Abi held her tongue for a moment as if she was contemplating something. "How are you feeling?" she said eventually, all sisterly concern. "Good, I suppose. Just--" I let the word linger, "changed." "You wanted to be a girl?" "Sort of. It's complicated." I bit my lip a moment, wondering whether I should say more. The pause was stretching to awkward length. I got the impression that Abi was composing a response. "This was not completely unexpected," she said, eventually. "Owen thought that when you came to the Palace of Mirrors you might encompass Binah, the feminine." "The what?" "The contemplative aspect. The mother who gives birth to understanding," she said, cryptically. "You're a bright kid, Scott. Imaginative, reflective and with a strong interior life. I'm not surprised you chose this path." My mind was whirling with a hundred questions that each could spin out a hundred more. But Abi beat me to the punch with one of her own. "Scott. Did you dream anything?" "What?" "Since you changed, have you dreamt?" Her voice lowered to a rice-papery whisper. "Yeah," I replied, my tones dropping to match her breathlessness. "Do you remember it? What happened?" "Uh, the end of the world, I think. Or maybe its creation." The pause at the other end of the phone seemed to go on for an age. Then I heard Abi's intake of breath. "Good," she said, curtly, and rang off. * I sat a while in my room in a demi-trance, mind sifting through Abi's words. Had I really chosen this path? Well, I certainly hadn't opposed it. And though I could have chosen to change myself back any number of times, I was still a girl. In fact, I hadn't tried to reverse any of the changes I'd made. Why was that? I let my hands press my temples and knead some feeling back into my throbbing skull. The novelty of the transformation had almost overwhelmed me today. Everything felt so strange, but at the same time thrilling and wonderful. More and more I was falling in love with this body. I adored its tautness and smoothness; the way it curved and the poise and grace that slowly came to me as I learned to inhabit it. I didn't want to go back to my old form. At least, not yet. Of all the new experiences, I had been most intoxicated by the sensation of lovemaking as a woman. Masturbation had been great, but making out with Tisha, letting her explore my nude body with her hands, had been mind-blowing. I craved more sex. I wanted another girl's caresses. I stood up. A plan was starting to form in my head. Meghan was due to visit in little more than an hour. By accident I had enchanted her into believing she was my lesbian girlfriend and she hinted she'd let me go further than we'd ever gone before. All I could think of was the leggy, pneumatic figure I'd crafted for her with the magic. I wanted to touch her, for her to make love to me. But something nagged in the back of my mind. What was that warning about the spellbook? I shook my head, which was still buzzy from the day's sexual experience. No spellbook had arrived and I had an urgent, almost physical need of the magic. Meghan would be completely ignorant of any wish I made right now. The enchantment would rewrite reality so that it had always been that way. Or at least I assumed it would. Though I was troubled that it hadn't seemed to work on Abi. Did she have a magic that protected her from it? My mind slipped back to Meghan, banishing all worries and doubts, excited by the prospect of loveplay. I had a little fetish whose fulfillment would make the evening more thrilling. I picked up the wand and gave it a wave, watching the runes along its length glow in response to the wish I spoke out loud. In the mirror I could see my bangs of mousy hair gradually darken into a mass of glossy blackness that began to wave downwards from my jawline to my shoulders. I liked the look of this already. * By the time I glanced out of the window and saw Meghan wheel up to my porch and lock her bike, Mom had been gone for half an hour. A wave of the wand had convinced her to take in a meal and the movies. Meghan and I had the place to ourselves for the evening. When I tugged the door open I saw Meghan standing there, dressed in a long, heavy coat, looking gorgeous as her copper hair, another magical gift, cascaded down to just above her shoulders. Beneath Meghan's coat I could make out a pair of glossy red boots starting just below the knee. Meghan saw me and gulped, her eyes agog and glittering. "Wow, Scotia!" She all but licked her lips. "Just wow. You look so hot!" She was right. I did. From tiara to boots I was dressed in a Wonder Woman costume. I had summoned it into existence in my closet and spent a happy half hour dressing up in the exotic gear, snapping on wrist-bands, packing my body into the red, gold and blue underwear, and hauling up those calf-hugging boots. It was a perfect fit. Fashioned from some soft metallic thread the costume looked about as close to the comics as you could get in the real world. My athletic frame was maybe a little slim-hipped to pull off the look, but with the raven-black hair I'd given myself and my broad- shouldered physique, I was a mere pebble-toss away from the Amazon ideal. I knew I looked hot as Hell. "Thanks," I said, gesturing Meghan in out of the cold and closing the door behind her. I now had her sandwiched against the door, pressing my body into hers. "It feels a bit dangerous wearing this thing," I told her, glancing down to where my boobs were holstered by the red and gold bustier. "I'm going to pop out of it if I do anything strenuous," I laughed. "Well, let me help you out of it," said Meghan, first staring down into my cleavage, then giving me a coquettish smile before launching forward and kissing me full on the lips. I kept that kiss going for a while, touching the tip of my tongue delicately against hers while we embraced. She tasted of cinnamon. Meghan broke the contact. "I thought this comic costume fetish of yours might come up tonight," she said, stepping back. "I wanted this first time to be special, so I came in this." With that, she opened her coat and seductively slipped it off her shoulders to form a heap on the floor. Beneath, Meghan was dressed in a Supergirl costume. The costume fit her glamor-model figure like a glove. The one-piece blue body-stocking looked spray-painted to her lithe, statuesque body. It was cunningly cut to cup, rather than flatten, her breasts. The short red skirt beneath the gold belt draped down to conceal her modesty. The miniskirt flattered Meghan's long legs, with those sleek red boots. A light cloak hung back from her shoulders. Meghan looked like Supergirl to a 'T', with the exception of her burnished red locks in place of the comic character's cheerleader blondness. I'd wished the costume on Meghan, even though the magic had convinced her the idea was all hers, so I had been prepared to act surprised. However, she looked so fine in her skintights I could not stop myself gaping, drinking in the vision. I gave a cartoon shake of the head as I came out of my reverie. I embraced Meghan again and kissed her for a long time before we drifted upstairs, hand-in-hand. The costumes were an incredible turn-on for both of us. In the dim light of my bedroom we played with each other while fully dressed. With her costume's built-in support, Meghan's breasts perked to attention. They yielded to my hands as I gently cupped and squeezed them, bringing her nipples poking through the thin spandex before lifting up her skirt to rub my fingers against her panties. Meghan's crotch was hot to the touch. She gave a breathy yelp as I applied a delicate pressure there. In return my girlfriend caressed the fabric between my thighs, finding a spot where a small push would make me stiffen and take in a sharp breath. She did that several times and I felt myself moisten. Then slowly, sexily, Meghan began to strip me. She insisted I keep the wristbands, boots and tiara on, but hauled the bustier down to release my tits, so she could cup their ripe flesh and gently play with them. It was a beautiful feeling to look down and see Meghan suck wetly at my teats, teasing her tongue around the aureoles in a way that sent ticklish zings of pleasure right down to my coochie. Then when she was done making my breasts feel hard and hot, she pulled the whole costume off, slipping it over my hips and down my legs to leave it lying inside- out on the floor. Now she had the whole landscape of my nude torso to explore, and I was ravished by the string of hot kisses she planted on my skin from boobies to belly. "I've been waiting a long time for this," said Meghan, as she looked as me hungrily. We kissed again, and then I felt a hand creep down between my legs and her fingers probe and enter me. As her fingers invaded the wet space, a thumb hunted briefly for my clitoris and found it. Then, as Meghan started to work it, my world slowly began to melt. Meghan masturbated me for a long time, her fingers wetly working me in circles between rapid little rubs. From time-to-time she would slip inside me, her digits making me stiffen and bite my lip. Playing my body as if she familiar with every piano key, she brought me to climax several times until I almost screamed. Towards the end she had begun to go down on me orally, dabbing at that oh-so-sensitive bud of my clitoris with her tongue while I wrapped my legs tightly around her head. After uncoupling, I began to go to work on Meg. I wanted to do her while she was in her costume and in spite of some problems with the cape we coped just fine. I stroked her high, firm spandex-encased breasts until her hips began to buck involuntarily, and then I reached down and unsnapped the studs on the costume's crotch to expose her pussy. I soon discovered that Meghan's vagina was a fine instrument to play with. With the clitoral hood pulled up to expose the pearl-like bundle of nerves beneath, it took delicate fingerwork to bring Meghan to a climax. She came with great moaning gulps of breath that made the heavy swell of her chest heave and shake. Then I made the decision to go into unfamiliar territory. I went down on her, kneeling at the end of the bed with her legs over my shoulders, examining her tight, shaved little pussy. Like my own, the wrinkled folds of flesh were flushed a rosy pink. With my fingers I delicately pulled the lips apart and darted my tongue in, which gained a reaction. Then I worked upwards to lap at Meg's clitoris, tasting almost nothing but a slight metallic tang. There was more hip bucking and a kittenish mew. I kept at it, tip-tonguing at the salty slickness of her bud, feeling her heat and her sobbing rise until she came again, making a small trickle of juices drip out onto the bed. With that final effort I ran out of energy and we both lay back on my bed. I was still a guy wrapped tightly inside a girl's sensuous form, but it was nice to lie there, sharing the sweet afterglow as our bodies cooled and softened. As I relaxed back into the crisp sheets, I couldn't stop thinking of dick. There it was, in my head, an intense desire to experience what a penis would feel like inside of me. Would it glide in? Would it hurt? Would it fill me? What would it be like to be joined at the hip with someone else? I was just trying to summon up the courage to ask Meghan if she'd accept another magical change when she beat me to the punch. "Scotia," she asked, almost shyly. "You know I love you, but I've always wondered what it would be like to have a, you know, a penis. What would that feel like?" She looked longingly into my eyes, face shiny and expectant. I said nothing and left her question hanging, pregnant in the air. "This magic wand," she continued. "Can I use it to try on a dick for size? Then, like, try to make love to someone?" Her voice petered out. "That someone being me?" I asked her. She bit her lip and nodded. "Would that be okay?" I was baffled for a moment. I hadn't expected this. But at the same time it was all I desired right now. It was all I could think of. I beamed at her. "Sure, Meg. Let's get it on!" With the crotch unsnapped, Meghan's Supergirl costume had bunched around her waist. She suggested taking it off but I was having none of that. She looked so hot dressed in her supersuit. And so Meghan picked up the wand and wished for a set of male genitals. Then we knelt on the bed together and watched and waited. For at least a minute nothing seemed to be happening, then she stiffened a moment and said "Ow!" "What happened?" I asked. Meghan pulled the bottom of her costume out of the way and started rubbing her palm up and down her vulva, kneading and pulling at the flesh. "Something felt really sore for a moment there, and then it was gone!" She stopped a moment. I saw her fingers move fractionally, exploring a particular spot. "Oh," she said. "I can feel a small bump there." "Let me feel." I brushed her hand lightly out of the way and felt up and down the front of her vee. She was right, my fingertips detected a bump between her legs rather than a cleft. As I rubbed it I could feel it swell rapidly. As I pulled my hand away I could see that she no longer had a vagina. Rather the lips had contracted to form a wrinkled pee hole around a nub of muscle and flesh. Delicately, I used my fingers to stroke the tiny thing, which had enough sensation in it to make Meghan breathe sharply. "Wow!" she gasped. As I touched it the organ grew faster. It was starting to form into the end of an uncircumsized penis. Not that it was anything like a proper dick. The fleshy extrusion was part-hard and part soft, as if Meghan's body was trying to figure out how this new member was supposed to work. There were no sign of any balls yet. I hesitated for a moment, and then decided to go all-in. I ordered Meghan to lie back on the bed. She complied, but complained that she wanted to watch her dick grow. I shushed her and then, straddling her so that we were almost 69'd, I bent down to kiss the tip of her proto-penis and suck on it, softly encompassing the whole of the thing with my lips. Meghan moaned. Her nub sprung hard, as if her body suddenly learned how to pump it erect. I could feel it begin to grow in my mouth, getting magically wider and longer. I was increasingly having to pull my lips higher and higher just to keep working the head of the tumescence. It was hot and had a slightly funky taste, but I kept at it, enjoying every gasp my sucking elicited from Meg. I had to pause for a moment when Meghan began to finger my pussy. I shuddered and rocked my hips in response and needed to breathe deep for a moment, which I couldn't do with a mouth full of flesh. Then I went down on her again. She now had a rapidly-lengthening penis, three- then four-inches long. It was big enough now for me to grasp and jerk back. It was flushed with blood and veined and smooth to the touch. And as I worked it, my tongue circling the head where I'd pulled the foreskin back, I could hear little sobs from my girlfriend, which interrupted her strokes of my clitoris. As the penis passed the five-inch mark, there was an exquisite moment when Meghan's balls dropped. Her scrotum descended in a matter of seconds and she gave a great moan, complaining briefly of an ache that died as fast as it came. She was, for all intents and purposes, now a male; a beautiful she-male, her dick being licked by an athletic brunette. And yet she hadn't come. Was the transformation not yet complete? I was no longer thinking straight. I needed Meghan inside me, right now. I rolled off my girlfriend, to lay on my back on the bed, legs spread wide. Then I cajoled her to get up and assume a position over me. For the next minute we were a knot of limbs and torsos, unfamiliar with the mechanics of sex. Eventually it began to come together, with me fumbling, and then gently guiding, Meghan's six-inch rod into my throbbing vagina. We docked in something resembling the missionary position, half-covered by Meg's Supergirl cape. Now I could feel that hot, hard shaft hesitantly working its way into my wet inner spaces. The sensation of it sliding into me broadcast little buzzes of bliss throughout my loins. My knees were spread apart as far as I could get them, to accept Meghan's rigid member. She was desperately trying to figure out how this worked; how to coordinate her hips and limbs and get enough traction to fuck me. Grunting, she started with a few practise pushes, and then gradually grew more forceful and rapid-rhythmic, with lots of short motions that made me jiggle. I was not comfortable. My thighs were stretched so much the muscles twanged, and Meghan's body held me down like a dead weight. And yet with each thrust I could feel a pressure on my clitoris, making me squeak involuntarily in time with every stroke. I also began to feel something else: a softer-edged pleasure deep inside as Meghan's dick pistoned into me. My eyes were shut, as I didn't want to look into Meghan's face. Instead my hands reached up to cup her tits, which were rubbing against mine. I sought out the erect buttons of her nipples through the spandex of the superhero costume, flicking them with my fingers. Each time I did that she seemed to buck her hips and thrust hard, which in turn gave me a zap of sexual energy. It made me press her teats again and soon we began to get into a cycle of jerky rutting motions, each push seeming almost to lift me up bodily. I realized that Meghan was actually holding onto my head to give herself leverage, to help her plunge deep inside. I was all asweat and was barely taking in enough breath, yet the pleasure from my cootchie zizzed up and down from tip to toe, making my hands reach for then clutch at her arms and back, pinching her hard through the fetish costume. Then the short bunny strokes turned slower as Meghan learned how to fuck me properly. Her thrusts grew deeper and more confident. I could feel her fill my vagina with long gliding strokes that broadcast pleasure throughout my belly, culminating with a sharp zap each time she rammed into the engorged button of my clitoris. I could feel myself building towards an orgasm; not the electric tingle I'd got from clitoral masturbation, but something profoundly more pleasurable. All I could think of was coming. I wanted the dam to burst. Then there was a sudden shudder and a change in my girlfriend's rhythm. I realized Meghan was coming inside me, the long, soft lunges of her dick pumping her seed into me. I hadn't orgasmed, but just lay there, shuddering with every upstroke until my girlfriend stopped, exhausted, and flopped onto me. Eventually Meghan's erection lost power and grew soft. It slipped wetly out of me, leaving a streak of cum across my thigh and Meghan rolled over onto her back. We lay side by side on the bed, gulping down the cool air. A cold reality began to dawn on me. "Meghan, what on Earth did we just do?" I said, querulously. "Duh, I think we just made love, girlfriend!" snickered Meghan. She looked down towards her groin, with its outsized equipment. "Ow, my balls ache. Are they supposed to do that?" "Meg! Has giving you a dick made you start behaving like one?" I spat back, furiously. "This is not funny! We just had sex without any protection! I could be pregnant!" "Oh." "Oh? Is that all you can say?" I propped myself up on the bed to stare down at Meghan, who as trying to resnap the crotch of her costume and pack her cock and balls back into her panties. She couldn't stop them spilling out and I could already see a wet spot where her softening dick had left a semen stain on the fabric. "What if I end up carrying your baby?" I said, barely believing it myself. "B-but you can't do that!" Meghan looked bewildered. "Can't I? I wish you were back to being a girl again," I said, sharply. "Maybe you'd act less like a jerk!" "You can get a pill, can't you?" she said, looking up at me sheepishly. "I don't know! I've never done this before! Do pharmacists give out those pills to high-schoolers?" My voice was rising in panic. "Well, wish it away, then." With that, relief washed over me. Of course, I could magic the problem away. "Yeah," I said. "That will fix it." "There's nothing to worry about, lover," said Meghan, putting a reassuring hand onto my shoulder. "We'll make the problem go away." I relaxed for a moment and looked longingly at Meghan. She looked so gorgeous in her superhero costume. It was such a turn-on. She was a ringer for the comic character. It was just a shame that she was a redhead and not blond. I leaned in to kiss Meghan. It was a slow kiss, our mouths opening so we could touch tongue to tongue. And then I pulled myself sharply away, breaking contact as a cold shiver rocked me. "Something's not right, Meg," I said, my mind whirring furiously. "How so?" said Meghan. "How did we end up having sex like that?" "I dunno, it just happened." "No it didn't just happen," I said. "I haven't had much interest in sex with boys before, but suddenly all I could think of was dick. Then you told me you wanted a penis and with a flick of the wand we were away. We sorta lost control." "So? I don't follow you." Meghan paused to think for a moment. "Or are you saying that something made me want to have a cock?" "Maybe," I said. We both sat up and looked over at the wand where it lay on the carpet. Then we looked at each other. "When I got the wand," I said, "my dad wrote that it needed a spellbook to work properly." "What spellbook? We've been using it without any spellbook." "That's because I'm still waiting for the book to arrive," I said. "Dad said I shouldn't use the wand without the spellbook." "Oh, Jesus!" said Meghan, her eyes wide and terrified. "What have you done! Is this some kind of side effect, then? Did it make us sex-crazy?" "Possibly," I said, thoughtfully. "Or maybe the magic responded to some deep desire inside us. It just worked without our conscious control." What I didn't say out loud was another thought that had just occurred to me. Had the unfettered magic done something more profound to our minds? I used to be a boy called Scott. But that seemed so long ago and so far away. I was a woman now, with a sensuous, athletic body. I wanted to remain in this form. But was that something the magic had done? Had it indoctrinated me to want to stay a woman? I was confused. Too many thoughts and fears crowded my mind. I didn't want to be semi-nude any longer. I was wearing only boots, a tiara and wrist bands. I needed to put some clothes on. There were far more sensible things in my wardrobe than my fetish Wonder Woman costume, but I found myself climbing off the bed and slipping the thing back on: stepping into the strapless one-piece and sliding it up my legs until it hugged my hips, then hauling it up until the bustier cupped my boobs. Meghan silently helped by zipping it up at the back. Now, why did I just do that? I thought. Why the absurd costume and not proper clothes? Anxiety began to creep in at the edges of my thoughts. Something was happening and I couldn't put my finger on it. "Damnit!" Said Meghan, terror creeping into her face. "Scotia, I'm changing!" "What? How?" I whirled around to stare at her. "My dick, it's disappearing." Meg had pulled the hem of her Supergirl skirt up. Her cock and balls, which had been spilling out of her costume, were definitely shrinking. "But nobody used the wand, did they?" I said, panic rising. "No!" Now it was my turn to go wide-eyed. "Look, your hair is changing!" I said. "What?" Meghan grasped a strand of her hair to hold it up to eye level. "Your hair, it's getting lighter!" It was. The copper-red hair we'd given Meghan yesterday was lightening. Straightening a little too. "Make it stop," Meghan pleaded, almost in tears. I dove for the wand and picked it up. "I wish the changes to Meghan would stop happening!" I squeaked, giving the dingus a wave. Nothing happened. I tried again, but there was still no response from the walnut wand. No flare of its runes or sign of anything happening. "It's not working! Why is it not working?" said Meghan, panicked. If the front of her panties didn't lie, she was almost back to being a complete woman again. "I don't know," I said. "Meghan, I don't think we have control of the wand anymore. I think it's changing us according to our unconscious desires and wishes." "How do we stop it?" "I have an idea!" I said, biting my lip. "Wait here!" With the wand in my hand I hurtled downstairs. I rushed, two steps at a time, chest bouncing. Though my mind was full of fears some small part of me couldn't help thinking how appropriate my superhero garb seemed as I dashed towards the back door. In moments I was unbolting it, then I was out in the back yard, under the canopy of night. It was a narrow yard, a threadbare patch of grass with the makings of a flowerbed at the back. There was an old wooden tools store there, standing free in the shadow against the back fence. I rushed to it, unlatched the door, then put the wand inside, amongst the handful of hand tools there. Then I retreated at speed back to the house. As I clumped up the stairs I could hear Meghan shout down. "I've stopped changing," she said. "Good," I said, wearily. "I put the wand far away from us. I'm hoping we are out of its field of influence." "Well, you'll be pleased to hear that I'm back to being a girl," said my girlfriend. "But I've turned completely blond." A guilty thought crossed my mind, remembering a stray thought I'd made earlier, when we'd been back sitting on the bed. Yes, she would turn blond, wouldn't she? I sort of hoped for that, didn't I? I'd wished her red hair away so that she could look more like Supergirl. A whim made real by the magic. What else had the wand done to us, unknowingly? I walked back in to my bedroom and there was Meghan, standing tall and willowy in her blue costume with the red and yellow 'S' across her bosom. She looked different. Not just the straight blond tresses reaching just below the shoulder, but the wide blue eyes that didn't look like how I remembered them on Meghan. Then there was her figure, which was not quite the glamour model curves she'd had, but more lithe, with smaller breasts. She was the spitting image of the comic book Supergirl. A living avatar of the character. "Er, Scotia," said Meghan, raising her hand and pointing. "You've changed too." I froze at those words. Supergirl-Meghan had to come over and position me gently in front of my room's full-length mirror. Oh yes, I had changed. I noticed the face first. It had broadened and developed sharp cheekbones, a square jawline and a generous mouth, framed by a cascade of raven hair. My nose had lost its kink. But it was my eyes that had changed the most. What little of my male self could have been seen in my previous face's eyes had now been erased. These were a woman's eyes. Gorgeous, blue-steel irises that you could lose yourself in, with strong, straight eyebrows set like a bridge above them. I was looking at the comic book Wonder Woman's face made flesh. My figure had changed to match, too. I'd had a powerful upper body in my old form, but now my shoulders were broad like a blacksmith's with some well-defined muscle. However, they somehow remained feminine, with lines that were softer than those of a bodybuilder. My breasts were even larger than they'd been in my swimmer's physique; firm mountains uplifted by my costume's brassiere. There was something tectonic in the way they heaved. My waist was a slim but solid trunk of muscle, while my hips now flared out far more generously than before. My butt bubbled out, barely contained by the costume. As I half-turned to look I could not resist clutching at and lifting those plump cheeks. The effect was of an incredibly womanly hourglass, and nothing like the schoolgirl figure I'd had only minutes ago. My thighs and long legs seemed thicker and more muscled, more the limbs of a weightlifter than a swimmer, but like my arms even these seemed shapely, losing almost none of their femininity. I was tall as well: a good six foot high. In my Amazon body I seemed to dwarf Meghan. Oh my, I thought. Without the wand I'm stuck like this. What do I do now? "So how did I end up looking like this?" I spluttered. "I'm not sure," said Meghan, from behind me. I turned to look at her. She was the living embodiment of Supergirl in her blue and red skintights, her blond hair haloed around an achingly beautiful face. "It got a bit crazy back there," continued Meghan. "Maybe you wanted it or I wanted it and the wand just delivered." Maybe I did. I remember wanting to dress up as Wonder Woman. But had I wanted to transform into a six-foot Amazon? "Look, I've had enough of this," said Meghan, flapping her hands. "I'm going to split and go home. I want to put as much distance between me and that wand as I can. I don't want any more changes!" I didn't try to stop my girlfriend as she stomped downstairs. She wrapped herself in her coat and I let her out. She gave me a peck on the cheek as she walked out the door. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said and she was gone in the night. The last thing I saw of her was her red boots fading away into shadow. Back in my room I took off the fetish costume. I spent some time gazing at myself nude in the mirror and running hands up and down my figure. My body was all curves and power and sexuality. I looked and felt really strong. I had an amazing hardbody, with full, round breasts defying gravity above a set of taut abdominals. Below the neck I remained completely hairless and I could clearly make out the delicate folds of my sex between my legs. My limbs appeared to be sturdy yet shapely. I flexed an arm muscle, watching it swell and tighten. It was difficult to fathom how I could look so tough but also so feminine. There seemed to be so much more of me than before: more boobs, more butt, more leg. As with previous changes I felt clumsy in this brand-new form; uncertain of where my body stopped and the world began. And then there was that face, with its full lips and firm, chiseled beauty. I looked unreal. If you've ever had a new face you'll know the first thing you want to try it to pull it, making goofy expressions, squinting, puckering your lips and pawing at the skin with your fingers. I clowned like this for a while, feeling fresh muscles screw up my features. Watching my reflection it was hard to suppress a laugh. The transformation of my face had brought other baggage with it. Taste and smell seemed somehow different; my nose could detect subtle olfactory notes that I hadn't noticed before. My vision was sharper, more clear than ever, and my tongue explored a mouth of regular, perfect teeth. There was one final thing: I had the appearance of an adult. Meghan's lithe Supergirl figure could pass as a teenager but there was no doubt that I now had the body of a grown woman. If the magic had changed reality was I still only fifteen? I stepped over to the closet. My wardrobe had altered to match my form. Everything was of Amazonian dimensions. I wondered where I shopped for stuff my size. I slipped on cotton panties, a lace bra and a comfortably loose blue dress. Then I went downstairs to the lounge to curl up on the couch and await Mom's arrival home from the flicks. She came back around eleven with a clatter and popped her head in the door. "You still up, honey?" she said. "I'd have thought you'd be in bed by now, what with your birthday tomorrow." "Just waiting for you, Mom," I replied. "I'm not looking forward to being older." "What, reaching sweet sixteen?" said Mom, with evident surprise. So I WAS still fifteen after all. But I looked easily in my twenties. How did that work? I didn't bother to inquire. With Mom back home I gave my excuses and sloped upstairs to bed. Something as simple as climbing stairs was a trial now that I was taller. I had to get used to my new leg length without stumbling. And then there was the movement of my massive boobs, which quaked with every step. Soon I was back nude and kneeling on my bed. I could not resist the urge to play with my new body, to check it out. I began with my curves, sliding a hand down the undulation from breasts to waist to hips and thighs. Though I had an hourglass figure it was not wasp-waisted. My trunk was solidly built, as befits a strongwoman, and my waist was not pinched in too tight. My figure flared out beautifully at the hips. I had the kind of generous ass I'd only ever seen on Latina girls, but it fitted my big frame perfectly. My hands slid back up to my chest. Not even in my last form did I have as much breast as this to play with. These ones had some heft and I squeezed and pushed them together to see what my cleavage looked like. I was surprised how little sag they had. They were heavy enough to settle back on my chest and tilt the nipples slightly upward, but still they seemed so fresh-minted and firm that they thrust more out than down. The aureoles were broad and dark and surprisingly sensitive. My boobs were large enough that I could haul them up, one at a time, and with a little effort crane my head down to lick at the teat. This made the nipples go hard as bullets, and each stroke of my tongue around the tips sent a shiver down to my loins. Oh, how I loved my tits. But however much I was thrilled by stroking and playing with my magnificently proportioned breasts, the sensations down below were so much stronger. Both hands slipped over the gentle swell of my abs to stroke between my thighs, which were now so sensitized that even gentle touches forced a sharp intake of breath. My fingertips found my labia and delicately peeled the lips apart to open myself to the world. I felt hot and wet down there, and now I could gently dip one of my strong fingers in to explore the slick flesh and hunt around for the button of my clitoris, hidden beneath its hood. This was the third clitoris I'd tried in recent days and yet again it was different from the others. It was hard to describe how: this was a Coke and Pepsi difference, but my wonder-clit was the most incredible experience yet. If my first clitoris had built me to an intense physical peak and the second was electric and energizing, this new one was all about pleasure. As I slip-slipped a fingertip around the button, waves of bliss and arousal pulsed out, filling every part of me. I surfed an ecstatic high as each motion of my fingers built the waves higher. All my skin was a-tingle. The sensation was so trippy that for a moment I imagined I could even feel my womb; a cupping, enclosing space inside me, fizzing with potential life. While one hand worked the button I had three fingers of the other hand wedged into the moist tunnel of my vagina, filling the space and activating buttons deep inside me. These only seemed to intensify the trip, broadcasting ecstasy up my spine and down into my strong limbs, which twitched an involuntary response. I was now a puddle of flesh lying back on my bed, eyes closed with a glowing sweat around me. My mouth formed an 'O' of pleasure while my chest heaved in time to the rhythm of my hands. I could feel myself building to a climax, to the orgasm I'd been denied when Meghan had fucked me. It was a lengthy, slow build-up of emotion; a need to cleanse myself of frustration and succumb to the joyous sensuality of this super-body. But I wasn't coming. The arousal was just building and building ever higher until the internal pressure was unbearable. I didn't know how to trigger the release. However, my body did. One hand slid automatically out of my pussy and reached up to a breast to slicker and smear the nipple with my juices. That was enough to fire the orgasm. It broke like a dam, forcing a whimper out of me. Rushing outward from my groin, warmth waterfalled through me, sending feel-good sensations down my legs to my toes, up my stomach and breasts and through my arms. My heart raced at a million miles an hour. I saw colors with my eyes shut. Muscles tensed and spasmed around my loins, then relaxed. Then I opened my eyes, breathless and drenched with sweat, wondering if Mom heard my small cries. That was incredible, I thought. If all sex was like that in this body I never wanted to go back to being a man. * That night I dreamt again. I was in the formless realm of the abstract. Here, Tiferet was balance, the rock of kingship, the masculine. Shekhinah was the dwelling, the nesting place, the feminine. They were a handspan apart, connected by gossamer threads of metaphor. I came into the presence of both, binding and uniting them in one person, one soul. Through the flesh I embraced the eternal. As the soul permeates the whole body, sees but is not seen, so is the divine. Blessed is she. * It was my birthday, I was back at school, and everything felt weird. Even in flat shoes I seemed to tower over everyone in class, including many of the guys. I looked incredible in my school uniform, but there was no mistaking how much of me there was and how imposing my bosom looked, as it stretched my blouse taut. I was naturally poised to carry myself proud and upright, so as I walked my chest seemed to crest the room seconds ahead of the rest of me. I couldn't help but be aware of the eyes on me. I couldn't avoid the laser gaze of the males around the school, scanning me from butt to boobs to face. Even a few girls checked me out. Suze McKinley regarded my Amazon figure approvingly and I caught Tisha's eye. Remembering our charged encounter in the pool the previous day we both held the gaze a fraction longer than we should have. I was in a knockout body and just the knowledge of that made me feel hot and horny. But this physique still felt unfamiliar and clumsy. The change in size meant my perception of distances had altered. I had no sense of my personal space in a frame as tall and strong as this. My new stride just ate up ground and I had a tendency to cannon into people by accident. And yet, the first thing Meghan said to me when I saw her that day was: "You walk like a panther." "I do?" I said to her, eyes round with surprise. "There's something about the way you move," said my girlfriend, looking me up and down. "You seem to carry yourself with incredible grace." "But I feel such a klutz!" I moaned. "You don't look it, but I think I know what you mean," said Meghan, screwing up a corner of her mouth. "It's taking time for me to get used to this change." Her Supergirl transformation had given her a girlish figure with flowing limbs and supple hips. "I know it doesn't look much different," she continued, "But I'm so leggy now, I can't quite control them. And it feels weird with a slightly smaller ass and chest. I mean, I kinda like it, I feel so light and limber and my boobs have gotten REALLY sensitive, but it's taking time to adapt." "I still can't get over the fact that it's you in there," I said. "Since your eyes and face changed you look like another person." "So do you," smiled Meghan. "I have to keep reminding myself you're my girlfriend. You're gorgeous, but your face is that of a stranger. "In fact," she said, absently chewing a lip, "there's something strange about all of you." "How so?" "Well, have you noticed how your body is too perfect?" "What do you mean?" I replied, in a hushed voice. We were standing in one of the main thoroughfares of the school. As yet not many students were walking past but I wanted to be careful they couldn't overhear. "Well, have you noticed how, since the change, neither your skin or mine has any blemishes? No zits, no moles, no marks?" I hadn't noticed, but I knew immediately she was right. Whatever the wish had done had turned us into airbrushed models. "Meghan, it's important to remember it's me inside this body," I told her, grasping a hand. "Until we learn how to master this magic I need someone to remember who I once was. I need you more than ever." "Oh, you have me, Scotia," said Meghan, using my girl name. As she smiled up at me the bell for recess went. "Oh, and happy birthday, by the way," she said. "Here's part of your present." With that she reached one hand up to the back of my head and pulled my lips onto hers for a long kiss. We stood in the school corridor for a while, lips locked, feeling like we'd shed gravity, while the flow of students swelled and jostled around us. If anyone was staring at us or giving us looks of hate, I didn't notice and I didn't care. As I settled back into bed that evening I reflected that it had been a good birthday. After school my Mom and a couple of other moms drove me and some friends to a restaurant. The strange thing was I didn't quite remember having these friends. They were mostly girls from class who I knew, but hadn't been close to when I was a guy. It was as if my whole social circle had shifted from the masculine end of the schoolroom to the feminine. So instead of Justin, Bez and Kris, I found myself hanging in the buzzy company of Sandy, Liz and Tisha. I was allowed to wear heels and a lovely dress with a neckline low enough to show the orbs of my breasts. I even had some light makeup on, which was something I figured out with Mom's help. And I had incredible presents from the girls: some jewellery, a fashionable top (apparently it was hard to get my size), a designer bag. They were such generous friends. And there was Meghan there, who stayed close by me all night and seemed oblivious to the strange tension between myself and Tisha. I didn't kiss Meghan in front of my Mom. That would have felt weird. So we didn't go any further than holding hands beneath the restaurant table. When we parted at the end of the night it was with a whispered promise to meet up again soon for some more heavy petting. And then I was back in bed, on my own, thinking over the day and slowly beginning to finger myself for another night of pleasure. And I found myself thinking not of Meghan but of Tisha and her coffee-dark eyes, her perky breasts and vibrant body. All I could think of was trying to engineer some time together alone with her. * "Meghan, I'm really scared." "Scared about what?" breathed Meghan in her warm soft-bed tones as she leaned in and gave me a silken kiss on the lips. I could make out the taste of strawberry on her. While Mom was out, we'd been making out on the couch in the lounge, just kissing and petting. I was in a low-cut dress whose straps had been slipped off my shoulders. Meghan's soft sweater was rumpled where I'd reached in and pushed her bra up to cup and caress her high, hard little titties. "I'm afraid I might be pregnant," I said, in a demon-haunted voice. "Oh," replied Meghan, glumly. It was now two days since our little 'accident', since Meghan fucked me with a magically-conjured cock. She'd told me how she'd felt as she came inside me; the urgent feeling that had welled up in her penis as she'd released her load. She had her male equipment for less than half an hour but the sensations had left a vivid memory of power and potency. "My dick was so hard, my balls so tight," Meghan had said. "And I could feel you around the shaft, your heat and wetness. I felt like a man. But then I remember you squeezed my tits and suddenly all my wiring got confused. Was I man or woman? I kinda lost control. I could feel myself coming and I just wanted to pump all my cum into you." "I remember," I'd said, face burning with the memory. I didn't tell her how uncomfortable I'd felt with her on top, hanging on to my head and trying to bang me. "Is that what men all feel like when they have sex?" Meghan had mused. "It's all about getting to climax?" "I guess so," I had replied, all too aware it was me carrying the consequences and not her. That was an hour ago, when the memory of Meghan's glamorous body with a dick had made me feel so horny that we'd started to make out. Sixty minutes later and I still couldn't get that mad indiscretion out of my mind. It did not help that Dad still hadn't called and Abi wasn't answering the 'phone or her e-mail. For the first time in my life I really needed to talk with my father and his absence gnawed at my stomach, creaking my psyche out of alignment. "When was your last period?" Meghan asked. That caught me uncomposed and off guard. Of course, I'd never had a period before. I'd only been a woman for a few days, though it now seemed like an eternity. However, the magic I'd used to convince Meghan that she was my lesbian lover had also rewritten history. In this reality I'd always been female. "Uh, about a week ago," I lied, and then quickly fudged: "but since we had sex I changed again into this Wonder Woman body. Who knows what that did to my cycle?" Meghan nodded, then slowly embraced me with one arm. With a delicate intensity, she slipped a hand beneath the neckline of my dress, found one of my firm, heavy breasts and deftly popped it out of the confinement of its bra. Her dexterous fingers brushed across the smooth, creamy flesh, then gave it a reassuring squeeze. Her touch must have triggered some endorphins somewhere. It was a strangely precious feeling of invasion and comfort. I did not resist it. "Look, Scotia, all we can do is wait and see," said Meghan, softly, nuzzling at my neck. "If your period starts again we'll have dodged a bullet. If we have a baby, we'll figure it out together." If WE have a baby? That seemed so strange. My girlfriend father to my child. "If we have a baby, what kind of genes will it have?" I wondered, leaning back into Meghan's embrace and letting her nimble fingers lightly play across my boob. "Will it have my Wonder Woman genetic makeup? My old genes? Your shemale ones?" "Will it matter?" said Meghan, a smile playing across her face. She now knew my body so well that she swiftly sought out the sensitive spot beneath the nipple to rub it a moment, then tweaked the teat into hardness and made me breathe in sharply. Her other hand had crept down to lift the hem of my dress. "Well, I suppose no-- oh!" I exclaimed, as Meg's lower hand began to rub my vulva through my panties. I could feel my pussy begin to throb and grow warm. Wetness was a finger-stroke away. Just then we heard the thump of shoes on the porch and the key begin to turn in the lock. Mom was home! There was a moment of panic as we tidied ourselves up. Meghan reached inside her sweater to tug her bra back down over her taut schoolgirl boobs. I had the more difficult task of trying to pack my D-cups back into their lace boulder-holders and then hike the shoulder straps of my dress back up. I just managed to smooth down the front of the dress over my panties and look around at the door to the lounge when Mom appeared, looking happy. "Hey Scotia, hey Meghan," she said, cheerfully. "I got back early. I have some takeout." She waved a plastic bag which looked like it contained boxes of Chinese. "You're welcome to join us if you want, Meghan," she added. "No, that's okay," said Meghan, getting up gracefully from the couch. "I have to go soon anyway." "Aw, that's a shame," said Mom, before swiveling her attention back to me. "Scotia," she said, all chipper, lifting something else into view. "I picked this up at the Post Office. It was too big to put in the box. I think it's the other part of your Father's birthday present." My blood ran cold as she stepped over and handed me the brown paper parcel. Meghan looked from me to the package, realization dawning. "I think it's that spellbook thing," said Mom. I almost fainted.