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The Witch Doctor by Rohmer Fan Darryl Rockwood scratched his thickly salt & pepper bearded chin and cut the engine of his rented SUV. The beams flickered off leaving the back of this dive bar hidden mostly in the dark except for a backdoor silhouetted in light, framing his way in. He took a deep breath. The parking lot was full of covered bikes and suped-up 70s gas-guzzlers. He wasn't expecting the Bed, Bath, and Beyond crowd to be waiting for him inside. Rockwood was a hunter, one of the last, and he'd lost track of his partner Jesse eight days ago in Wharton, Tennessee tracking a gang-leader named The Witch Doctor. Supposedly the guy used small-fry rituals to keep his gang in line and make cash, but neither of them had been able to get close until they got a tip about Wharton. The plan was pretty routine: find the guy, scare him straight so he stops using magic, then hope things don't get ugly. Things got ugly right off the bat. The first night they arrived Jesse disappeared in the night, so Rockwood went quiet, started sleeping in the car in the woods and otherwise did all of his snooping at night. Rockwood had a feeling that in Wharton, he was being tracked not the other way around, but he couldn't leave his partner. He didn't have anyone else. The only hunters he knew of that were left were operating out of Canada and Mexico. Jesse and Rockwood were alone in the US. He put a loaded gun with silver bullets in the back of his pants, made sure the sigil-carved knife that'd saved his life countless times was tucked into his right boot, and then put on his lucky patched denim jacket and turned the collar up. He left the door of his SUV unlocked. In case things went south, he wanted to be able to leave as quickly as possible. He'd found this shitty dive-bar called Yardbird Tavern on Facebook. You would be surprised how much shit people put on Facebook that makes it easy to identify freaky dark-magic biker gangs, like taking pictures of drunk coeds with Mauryan runes and Elamite writings in the background. Kind of a gimme. The hard rain bounced off Rockwood's jacket and jeans as he exited his car and made his way for the rear entrance of Yardbird Tavern. It was unlocked and no one seemed to notice as he opened the door and walked in, zoomed straight for the first open seat at a bar he could see, and pretended like he'd been here a hundred times before. He quickly took in the surroundings: it was mostly pool tables, with middle-aged bikers and locals lining up shots and not paying him attention. A few of the tables had some killer looking babes playing. Too bad he was on the clock. "Shot of bourbon," Rockwood told the big bald fella behind the bar with a nose-ring and no chin. He paid the $5 and then added a $5 tip. The bartender made a face that said, "not bad" and then Rockwood ordered another shot and put a $20 down and said, "another shot and a question." The bartender nodded and poured a shot. "Seen a guy around here lately, bald, looks like shit, scar on his face, likes to drink and fight?" The bartender smirked and took the twenty, "could be anybody." Rockwood grinned. He always liked letting the bartenders get that joke out of the way when he was looking for someone, because it made them feel smart which was better at buttering them up than the tip. Then he pulled out a picture of Jesse, showed him and said, "maybe this'll help." The bartender took a look at the picture and then took a deep breath. He sent a sharp eye across the room at a tall man with darkly tanned skin and sharp cheekbones who was showing off in a white muscle shirt that had a handprint on it in black ink. He took the $20 and said, "haven't seen him," but with that earlier glance obviously deliberately betrayed that he had and with the handprint-shirt man. Rockwood sipped his second shot of bourbon and tried to take in where those runes and glyphs were. He noticed that the tables around Handprint were taken up by some of the bigger and meaner looking dudes in the bar, most of them with slutty half-dressed girls hanging all over them. Handprint was playing pool with two young women wearing short dresses, a redhead and a brunette. They were winning and it seemed like Handprint was playing with molasses in his brain. That was when Rockwood noticed the ancient glyphs carved into the table. He turned around on the barstool with his back to Handprint and thought, "augury, I bet he is doing augury with the pool balls." Attempting to predict the future using a random element that's been charged with dark ritual magic. For this to work, the caster needs to know the random element at a muscle-memory level, so he wasn't playing like his brain was full of molasses, he was randomly charging the table and testing his augury spell. Augury like this was serious magic. This tall man was almost definitely The Witch Doctor and maybe not as "small-fry" as Rockwood had thought. Rockwood ordered another shot of bourbon and decided to do the numbers. There were 31 people in this bar. Five staff: bartender, couple of female barbacks, couple of stoner guys in the kitchen. So 26 left, minus the four lifers at the bar with me, and the two teenagers playing the out-of-date Simpsons video game brings us to 20. Subtract me, the doctor, and the two women with Handprint, and that leaves 16 people left playing at four other pool tables. One table had five women around it and another had two, which leaves nine bruisers that I'd have to deal with if need be. These were not great odds, but if push came to shove he had a tear-gas canister in his jacket he could use that could cloud their view as he made a break for it. Rockwood was good, but not nine-on-one good, especially considering that some of the women could get involved. He could easily get killed if even one of them had a gun. He needed subterfuge. Rockwood would be play dumb and be The Jerk. Rockwood started thinking of some real terrible shit to say and then got off the stool and walked towards the Witch Doctor's table. "Wow, fella. You sure seem like you could use a little guidance." Rockwood sucked his teeth, playing up being the 'old pro' but in a slightly obnoxious way. Handprint didn't move, still arching his body over the table, but he looked in the hunter's direction and waved a hand at a table nearby where Rockwood was pretending not to notice a group of bruisers reaching for their pool sticks in a threatening manner. He clicked his tongue and said, "Guidance. What kind are you offering?" He had a deep baritone voice, possibly magically enhanced, Rockwood thought. "Well, I left my McDermott in a hotel about two states away, so I'll have to give you a lesson with a house stick," he smirked. "How about a game?" Handprint's head shot up along with his body and he was in Rockwood's face in a second, twitchy and strange, this man seemed to be on drugs yet still alert. He licked his lips and said, "I only play high stakes." Rockwood snorted and said, "I've got cash, but really, I'm just trying to keep you from further embarrassing yourself." He responded with, "I think we can come to an arrangement." He pulled out a box and started putting together a nice cue not looking at me once as he twisted it together. The redhead and the brunette leered at me then started walking around me allowing me to feel the heat of their youthful bodies. Rockwood began to wonder if they were enchanted in some way, in some sexual way, when out of nowhere the pool cue that Handprint was putting together shot out and tapped him. Ding, ding, and ding, the terrifying sounds as the cue struck Rockwood's gun, knife, and the canister of tear gas he'd been hiding. Before Rockwood could even react three of his biggest bruisers had him restrained while the two women retrieved his weaponry and placed it on the table nearby their leader or boyfriend or husband? He wasn't sure, but the hunter was looking for the exits, the exits that were being locked down as he looked at them. He was fucked. "Okay okay fella, you got me. So I'm packing. It's a scary neighborhood." He tried playing it cool. The man picked up the knife and looked closely at the sigil on it, which made Rockwood think, "I wonder if he knows those markings," but then he didn't react. "No weapons at the table," is all he said and put Rockwood's weapons in a bag and gave them to one of the women who walked away with it. The bruisers let him go, looking down on the hunter. Rockwood sharply looked at them and said, "Don't touch me. And I'm getting my stuff back after the game," as he adjusted his denim jacket and checked his keys and wallet, which were still there. The Witch Doctor looked the hunter in the eye and said, "A game it will be, and high stakes. If you win, I'll give you what you want, the information you want, I think I know why you are here." He traced the sigil from Rockwood's knife on the table in front of him. "So he knows why I'm here," Rockwood thought. "If I win, you join my crew," the Witch Doctor said as he gestured towards the rest of the rowdy crowd. "8 Ball, and each ball we sink on our way to a win we get closer to our goal. It's more fun that way." Rockwood shook his head and said, "No way, brother. I've been fed that line of bull before. I'll play your game, I'll win, and the whole time one of your crew is slashing my tires or getting a machine gun out or something. You're buying time." He chuckled and said, "If you think that I won't be true in this, we can make a blood pact." The hunter looked at the Witch Doctor and squinted his eyes, it was like it was just the two of them in the room. "A blood pact? You must really want me on your crew because that's serious." He shrugged and said, "You have some desirable genetic material. Will you do it?" Rockwood thought about his options. Leaving wasn't one, that was for sure. Fighting his way out might be a good way to go in a blaze of glory. No, his best option at this point was to play the game, drag it out as long as possible and look for an opening. His partner knew how to break a blood pact curse, so the worst thing that would happen is he joins the crew, finds out where his partner is, and then they work together to get out of this jam. "Okay, let's do it. I win and I get the information I want." "Fine, hunter. No longer than ten minutes per turn." "Fifteen minutes and no freaky magic stuff... beyond the blood pact, I guess." "Fine," the Witch Doctor said as he made a small cut on his arm with a pocket knife and dripped a drop into two shot glasses. Rockwood did the same. Each held a shot glass as the Witch Doctor said, "We'll play a single game of 8 Ball. If I win, you join my crew in a capacity that I decide. If you win, I tell you everything you want to know about your partner and let you go free. Each ball we sink will bring us one step closer to complete victory. Each player has fifteen minutes to make their shot or they forfeit the game. If they try to leave the premises before the game is over they forfeit the game." Rockwood added, "If any player or the player's associates tries to fuck with the game in some way, then the game ends and nobody wins. And if I win I'm free to go with all my stuff." At this the Witch Doctor smiled and shrugged. They both tilted their heads back simultaneously. "This will be fun," the Witch Doctor said. "Coin flip for break?" Rockwood pulled out a silver dollar and tossed it to the Witch Doctor. He didn't care who got break, this guy was small potatoes. A hunter didn't know everything, but had to know a few things really well: killing ghosts, demon traps, and pool. The Witch Doctor waited until Rockwood got close enough to inspect and then flipped the coin calling "heads," and it came up tails. Rockwood would break. "Thought for sure you'd try some magic on that," the hunter said. "No. Don't need it." He smirked in response. Rockwood picked up cues until he found a straight one with some serious weight to it, the two things he needed, then racked the balls and chalked the tip of his stick. He noticed that while the attention of the bar had been on them initially, now it was as if everyone, staff or crew or bystander, was deliberately not looking in their direction, like avoiding looking directly at the sun. The Witch Doctor leaned back against the mirror-covered wall beside the table as both of his women, the redhead and the brunette, joined him. Rockwood lined up the cue ball feeling the heft of the stick in his hands, thinking through the shot in front of him. "I'm wondering why you want me on your crew, bud. You seem to be fully staffed," the hunter looked at all the leather-clad monsters. "I am always looking for new talent," he replied. "As I said, you have superior genetics." "Creep," Rockwood thought as he put just the right amount of force onto the cue ball to have it produce a satisfying cracking sound. A good break. The balls scattered and the 12-ball sank into a side pocket. Without any difficulty, Rockwood added the 15 to a corner pocket and said "I'm stripes." The Witch Doctor held up a two fingers and said, "Your partner is still in town and alive." Rockwood sighed deeply and gripped the stick tight. "Is that how this is going to be? You can just keep your mouth shut until I win, then spill the beans." The Witch Doctor replied, "Where is the fun in that? Also, the blood pact you agreed to said, 'each ball we sink brings us closer to victory.'" "Fine," Rockwood replied. So Jesse was alive, which was good to know. Less good to know that this Witch Doctor was so certain that he knew Jesse was alive that he could state it confidently under the effects of a blood pact, which requires truth in intent more than literal meaning. The hunter lined up another shot and put the 9-ball into the side pocket. "Ka-thunk," he said with some arrogance. "So, what's the next tidbit." The Witch Doctor held up a finger and said, "Jesse isn't in any pain or discomfort." Rockwood gritted his teeth. There was a double meaning there. If Jesse wasn't in any "pain or discomfort" then he wasn't tied up or being tortured. Maybe drugged. Pills. "You fucking piece of-" Rockwood started and then restrained himself. He needed to concentrate on the game. This guy was playing with his mind. Rockwood tried to relax and then took another shot, clipped the wrong ball and scratched. Internally Rockwood screamed "fuck!," but externally he grinned and said, "wouldn't be fun if you didn't get to play too, eh? What should I call you by the way? I only know 'the Witch Doctor' which seems kind of offensive, you know, racially." Rockwood put some more chalk on his stick. "It's not a bad name, 'Witch Doctor.' My friends call me Jeron. I'll be calling us friends soon, so call me whatever you like." Jeron arched his head around the table like a crane and then settled on a pretty simple shot and sank it with ease, but he left himself set up well for the next one. Rockwood noticed that Jeron was more skillful than he expected and sighed. This was going to be more difficult than he expected. He was fighting the urge to drink, and found himself eyeing the pink cocktail the redhead was drinking. "Wait, what the fuck," Rockwood said suddenly startled as he realized he was at eye level with the hot redhead that was prowling the table. "You asshole! You cheating fucking asshole! You made me short." Rockwood patted his body to see if there'd been any other changes. He still had his arms, his hands, his eyes, and could stand up, so he could still play pool. "You were too tall for my crew," Jeron said. "Is that how the fuck it's gonna be," Rockwood said clenching his jaw. "So what, you're going to change me all kinds of ways, try to fuck my game up, I should have known. Guess you worded it in a way to get around the blood pact 'intention' huh. What the shit did you say? Something about 'in a capacity' in your crew? So you can just be like, 'I need a guy who can't play pool for shit' or something. You fucking prick." Rockwood shook his head. Jeron chuckled and said, "I couldn't quite get away with that, no... but you're on the right track." He gave me a look that said, "I'm not stupid." The Witch Doctor began lining up another shot and said, "let me know if you'd like to forfeit, hunter." "No fucking way, bring on your bullshit asshole." Rockwood looked the redhead in her eye and then took the pink cocktail out of her hand and sipped it. If he was going to be fucked with, he might as well get a little buzz. "I got shorter but my clothes didn't change, so I presume you put some serious work into this pact, Jeron." Rockwood had a sudden realization and said, "This isn't the kind of ritual you can just whip up, you must have planned this." He eyed the Witch Doctor and decided to stop giving him the benefit of the doubt. This guy probably made a lot of poolhall pacts with suckers. Jeron scoffed and took aim at the lay-up he'd given himself for a second shot, but poured english all over it and sank the 2-ball while also setting up his third shot. Fuck. Rockwood immediately twisted around to look in the mirror. He pulled his denim jacket off and looked at what was left of his body. Rockwood was no more, and instead, a man who looked 18 and weighed about as many pounds as he'd lived years. At least he still had his beard. "Too many old fat guys on my crew too, hunter." The Witch Doctor smirked. Rockwood looked down at his pale, thin arms and then put his denim jacket back on. He still had a tiny little bit of muscle, so he could still put some power behind the stick but he'd have to be careful. He'd have trouble with even one of Jeron's flunkies at this point. All he had left was the mind game. He couldn't lose that. "Good. I'd been looking to lose a few pounds you know. Guess I can go undercover and track down some of those truly shitty high school vampires now. Sounds like it would be good work. Appreciate the opportunity, Jeron." Rockwood poured a fake smile on his face then looked in the mirror again. He wasn't this thin when he was in high school, instead he was a linebacker on the football team. He'd never seen himself this emaciated. He didn't need to find out what further changes Jeron had in mind. "Say Jeron," Rockwood said. "What are you paying these mooks?" the hunter gestured towards all the people pretending not to pay attention to their game. "Or, wait, do you even pay them? Usually mooks get paid. Or wait, are they all slaves you won in pacts like this?" The Witch Doctor looked up at Rockwood's inquisitive smirk sharply and snapped, "my followers are none of your concern." He heaved with a sigh and missed his next shot, grimacing at the hunter. Rockwood sniffed. This guy was touchy, which meant he could be played. "Welp, I guess it's my turn," said the hunter. The height was a problem but nothing compared to the bony arms, but Rockwood had been playing pool for years. This was powerful magic, so the hunter was adjusting immediately to the changes. A disturbing thought, but Rockwood lined up an easy shot all the same and sank the 13. "Your partner is with my crew," Jeron said dispassionately. Rockwood could tell that Jeron was trying to hold back, but he took the new info all the same. Jesse was with the Witch Doctor's crew, so he had backup that wasn't here. Or Jesse was in the back. Or maybe the basement. His mind racing, Rockwood missed the difficult banking shot that followed noticing the misjudgement in the use of force. He wasn't used to not having any strength. If he couldn't figure out how to fix this problem, the game would effectively be over. Rockwood leaned against the mirrored wall and surveyed the table. There were no easy shots. Jeron called the 1 ball, which he'd need to bank twice to knock in a corner pocket, but it would put him in a spot to get the 3 in with ease. Rockwood sucked his teeth and said, "That's gonna be tough, bud." A weak attempt at distraction. He needed something more. Jeron didn't respond and seemed to be in the zone. Rockwood considered keeping up the chatter but he knew that the pact might force him to forfeit if he went too far. It would know if he intended to distract on purpose. He held his breath while Jeron took his shot, banking once, twice, and nearly missing but still sinking that 1 ball. "Fuck!" Rockwood said out loud and looked at the mirror. His beard was gone. "You fucking took my beard." He felt his face. It felt baby smooth. "I'm going to the fucking bathroom." "Okay," Jeron called after me. "Remember, fifteen minutes between turns or you forfeit." "I remember!" Rockwood said, slamming the grungy door and latching it, turning the light on with the stuttering exhaust fan. He looked in the mirror and squinted. Same clothes and haircut, but something was off. He took off his jacket and shirt. His shoulders were thin. Incredibly thin. Almost zero muscle mass, no hair on his chest, and a babyface. "I look like a scrawny out of shape kid," Rockwood thought. He put his hands down his pants and noticed that his cock was about half the size it normally was. "Oh well that's just fucking GREAT," he said out loud in the bathroom and kicked a stall door, noticing his voice cracking. "Everything okay, hunt-" "Oh yeah, hunky-fucking-dory you asshole, forget about the reverse puberty thing you're giving me. Let me guess? You don't have any out of shape teen goobers in your crew and you were just itching to add one on?" Rockwood was letting his frustration show, getting in the Witch Doctor's face, or at least trying to since he didn't even come up to his chin in height. "Something like that," he replied. "Now, you may want to brace yourself..." the Witch Doctor offered that suggestion as he sank the 3 ball and Rockwood immediately felt something very different, rushing directly back to the bathroom with a gulp, catching view of something out of the corner of his eye in the mirrored wall that he didn't want to confirm in front of the packed bar. Bathroom locked, lights on, he looked in the mirror and made no mistake: he was a girl. "Fuck," he said, but of course, his voice had been changed. Lighter now. A girl's voice. He stripped his jacket and shirt, only to see a black bra underneath hiding two small but very much real boobs. His waist was remarkably thin and the hips flared out wide. "Oh shit oh shit oh shit," he said unbuttoning his fitted jeans and pulling them down far enough to see some tight black underwear. He tugged it down and inspected what was left of his genitals, saying "What the fuck is that?" out loud. Where his penis once was there was now a strange hooded nub. He felt around it and his finger slipped in between two folds and into a new cavity. "I guess that's a pussy and half a dick," the hunter thought. Rockwood thought, "He turned me into a hermaphrodite girl," and then out loud said, "Okay, that's fucking weird." He pulled the underwear back up, noticing the gap between his legs, and then turned around, seeing a pretty serious butt. "That's a huge butt," he said out loud. Somehow the babyface had gone from "underage boy" to "young woman" but he couldn't quite place how. Maybe some kind of hormones thing. "Ohh," Rockwood whispered to himself, "join the crew, there are women in the crew. Now I get it. Fuck." He looked in the mirror again, turned to the side and arched his back. Tiny waist, nice butt. He looked pretty good as a girl, definitely not ugly. He was into the short hair thing. He needed confidence if he was going to win this. Don't lose the mind game. He ran some hot water and smacked the cheeks of his face, making them a little rosy. He'd go out there and play it off. Sex change was serious magic. This guy was a freaking sorcerer. He exhaled slowly, closed his eyes to get into character, and then walked out of the bathroom with a smirk. "Do not go in there, Jeron. Really stank up the place." Rockwood strutted across the Yardbird Tavern, gulping as he noticed the hip-swaying change of his center of gravity which he tried playing off. He didn't bother checking the reaction to his taunt and instead grabbed his pool cue for dear life. The girl in the mirrored wall Rockwood was looking at looked like a dyke. Denim jacket, loose white t-shirt, short black hair with kind of a Ralph Macchio thing going on. Rockwood turned around and said, "I think you did me a favor Jeron. I've always wanted to get with some lesbo chicks." He smirked and sent a "how you doin" to one of the butch biker chicks nearby. With patience, the Witch Doctor cracked his knuckles and said, "Double bank, 4 ball in the side pocket." It was a hard shot and he missed it completely. Rockwood thought, "Old me would have had a tough time with that shot, but new me... probably zero chance. I'm doomed." Rockwood would just try to frustrate him with lengthy bathroom breaks, taunting, and cross his fingers that he could think of some way out of this. "Back up jackass, lady coming through. By the way, not feeling the cologne. Smells like a dentist's office," Rockwood said trying his hardest to forget about the hack job that had been done to his genitals. He lined up a shot with his newly small, delicate, and far too smooth hands. The stick barely touched the cue ball, making nothing but a horrible scraping sound of his painful attempt at the 14. "Well fuck," Rockwood thought, but with that miss he realized how he'd have to hold the pool cue if he wanted to connect properly next time. The smooth hands would be an issue. The table didn't look good for Rockwood. He'd set up Jeron for one easy shot on the 5 and another one after that wouldn't be too difficult. The hunter didn't even look at the table, but instead the bathroom door and started walking towards it the second he heard the cue ball being struck. Rockwood felt tighter pants and the increased weight on his chest as he closed the door, latched it, and turned on the light. "Damn," he said out loud. Before he even got his jacket off, he noticed the massive breasts awaiting inspection under his shirt, which was different now and a somewhat low V-neck. The shirt was tight, but not as tight as the dark blue jeans, and between them a bit of skin showing above the belt. He closed his eyes and put his hands down his pants. His fingers slid across a complete pussy with a nice bush. Shirt off, jeans tugged down, Rockwood was looking at his new body and underwear, this time black lace panties and a matching bra. Much girlier than the earlier set. He pulled out his left breast and it was covered in a large pink areola with a nipple that slowly sharpened as it hit the air. "Well, that's a question asked and answered," Rockwood thought as he squeezed the breast and acknowledged that it felt pretty amazing. He'd always wondered what it felt like for ladies to play with their own tits. "A nose ring?" Rockwood said out loud as he noticed something new that'd been added. He touched the iron stud and then thought, "I still look like a dyke, just a hot dyke." He took a close look and noticed that he wasn't wearing any makeup but had nice white teeth, whiter than what he'd had as a man. He pulled his jeans back up and put his shirt on. His brown boots hadn't changed from when he'd been a man other than to get smaller. He checked his profile and behind, noticing the gorgeous proportions and hourglass figure. New assets, then. Rockwood left his jacket hanging on a bathroom stall and walked towards the table with purpose, feeling his breasts jiggle on the way. "What are you assholes looking at," the hunter said confidently assuming that eyes had been on his new hot body. He sized up his sexiness compared to the redhead and brunette that had barely left Jeron's side. They were pretty, but Rockwood's hourglass was on another level. Makeup or not, he was definitely the hottest chick in the room. Rockwood walked up to Jeron, eye-level with the handprint on his wife-beater shirt, and said, "if you think an awesome pair of tits and an ass someone will never forget is going to make me lose, you're insane. I don't need a dick to absolutely fuck you in this fucked-up magical game of bullshit pool, bud." Jeron was taking a lot of time to set up the shot, so Rockwood decided to keep talking, maybe distract the guy long enough that he missed his time limit. "Plenty of female hunters, you know. Common misconceptions that it's all dudes." Rockwood flexed a lithe arm and continued, "Relying on brute strength against monsters is almost always a bad idea. It's a very easy way to get killed, and y'know, probably the most common way hunters die." Rockwood positioned his newly small body on a stool nearby and said, "Short hair cut, plenty of cardio, and a couple weeks at the shooting range and I should be okay. Honestly, you might have done me a favor because it feels like half the time the monsters I'm dealing with are rabid for sexy young girls." Rockwood grabbed his breasts and squeezed them. "I won't feel guilty using myself for bait, at least." Jeron was distracted by this and took his attention away from the game. "I know about hunters." "Sure you do, bud." Rockwood hopped off the stool. "Pretty powerful magic," Rockwood said slapping his ass. "Who knew magic could just make perfectly fitted tight jeans that you can move around in with no problemo!" Rockwood put his legs together and looked in the mirror and said, "Thigh gap! I gotta thigh gap! Awesome. Oh and holy shit, it just hit me, nothing can completely put me down by kicking me in the balls anymore. Bonus!" Jeron shrugged but did betray a slight lustiness over Rockwood's body, which he soon turned away to hide. Rockwood grinned in response and walked towards Jeron. The hunter folded his arms and said, "why do you even do this shit, anyway? You're a tall, decent- looking guy. I'm sure you have no problem getting women." Rockwood bit his lip and tried to change the subject. Complimenting this dickhead was the last thing he needed to do. "Let me guess? You fucked up a sex potion and now you can't get it up?" He looked down at Rockwood and didn't respond except with a curious arched eyebrow. "You know," he said, backing up and beginning to line up the shot, "this has been far more entertaining than I expected." Nice way of letting me know that this was a trap, but that was kind of obvious by now. To Rockwood's annoyance, without further delay, The Witch Doctor then took a shot at the 4-ball and sank it. Rockwood felt air on his legs and said, "One sec," as he sped towards the bathroom again, this time hearing what he thought was a chuckle behind him. Change of clothes, bigtime: trashy tight white tube top with no bra, letting those nipples poke right through, which ended right above Rockwood's navel, which had a ring in it; super tight dark blue cut-off jean shorts with the pockets hanging out. His shoes had changed into a heeled leather boot with a zipper. So the Witch Doctor needed a new slut on the crew, apparently. Considering that Rockwood was already the best looking girl in the bar, he had an idea who he'd be paired with. He seethed. Rockwood turned around and noticed that a very small amount of butt cheek was poking out if he bent over. The booty was accentuated by a tribal tramp stamp tattoo on the lower back, because of course it was. Rockwood never met his mom, but he'd seen pictures. Maybe this is what Jeron was talking about with "superior genetics." Even a ripped and James Bond looking guy like the Witch Doctor would be lucky to get a babe like this. He brushed the hair out of his face and inspected his new haircut. His dark brown hair was longer and looked nice. He had bangs and the rest was cut so that it fell down to his shoulders. The eye makeup was noticeable, eye shadow and liner, probably something in the eyelashes too. Pink lipstick. Probably other makeup he wasn't noticing. It seemed like the changes were more typically feminine here compared to before. Shaved legs, too. He pulled down the jean shorts and noticed that his pubic hair was also completely shaved while the previous versions let it grow as wild as he did. Rockwood began to think and try to remember what it was like to have a cock. He couldn't, not really. Powerful fucking transmutation magic. He snapped to attention and thought he might be running out of time, if it was his turn. He walked quickly out of the bathroom and made it back to the table. "Ready to forfeit?" the Witch Doctor asked, chalking his stick and eyeing my body like a present under the Christmas tree. He scratched. Rockwood thought, "pProbably distracted by the nipples." "Not yet," Rockwood replied. The hunter sized up the table. No easy shots. Rockwood barely cared about his partner at this point. He just wanted to win and get the hell out of here with whatever of him was left. He called a shot with a bank to get the 10-ball in and sidled up next to Jeron to make it, noticing again that Jeron had on some strong-smelling cologne, but that he must've put more on. "Yikes, did you take a bath in barbeque? You smell like a cookout, Jeron." As Jeron replied, "I've had this on all night, guess you're just noticing," Rockwood sunk his bank shot and did a fistpump. Then started breathing in the cologne trying to place the scent. It wasn't just barbeque, there was a woodsy sorta forest fire smell to it. "Your partner is now a favored member of my crew," the Witch Doctor said with a smirk. Rockwood glared at Jeron. He was getting hot. "The fuck? Did you do this to him to?" he started looking around at the men... and the women. "Wait, I saw a picture of Jesse when he was a teenager, he had long red hair like this girl," Rockwood said giving her a closer look. She smiled at him and it looked a little bit like Jesse's smile, a little toothy and crazy, but he wasn't sure. He'd keep an eye on her. He was sweating and breathing heavy. The stress was getting to him. He forced a smile and said, "I guess that's the only way you get your jollies, brainwashing people into joining you. Your 'followers' huh. Typical sick freak." Rockwood's eyes lingered on the Witch Doctor's body and found a lot of things to give him shit about. "I guess you do rituals to stay lean and muscular, too. Probably too good to work out. Oh and what's this? A massive dick, what a shocker. Did you make a deal with a crossroads demon for that one or is it homegrown? I bet you love hearing the girls scream." Rockwood caught his breath and noticed the smirk on Jeron's face, then realized he'd been sort of grinding against his crotch on his pool stick while he was berating the Witch Doctor for his body. He felt his jeans and panties getting wet as his juicy pussy was gently rubbed. "That motherfucker turned me gay," Rockwood thought. He realized that the newer changes definitely reflected a desire for the attention of men, whereas before a man might have found that girl hot but the unshaved legs would have usually been a dealbreaker. Rockwood locked eyes with the redhead and then with Jeron, making his way to the other side of the table where they were standing. He smelled almonds and cherries on Jeron this time. Maybe it was she-dan chen-pi, a Chinese fragrance made of snake gallbladder and mandarin peel powder that, when cooked in moonlight, only worked on attracting heterosexual women, and otherwise has no scent. That would explain why he only just now smelled it. He'd been smelling it more and more during the game, maybe he was being slowly mentally changed. The next shot would be easy, but as he bent over Rockwood thought about Jeron's muscular arms and what they might feel like. He struggled to concentrate but with an ugly shot, an ugly and very lucky shot, sank the 14. That left three balls on the table: 6, 8, and 11. This was getting close. The Witch Doctor cleared his throat and said, "Jesse left you of his own choice." "Well that's a fucking lie," Rockwood replied. "Jesse would never do th-" "You fucking idiot," the redhead interrupted. "Did you think I was kidding about wanting to get out of hunting to start over? I told you a hundred times. Hell, I know you want to retire too. I left out that I wanted to live as a woman though, but otherwise, I never shut up about it." The woman who'd been haunting our table had finally spoken up. She was wearing four-inch heels and an incredibly tight light blue dress that barely covered her ass. She had on a ton of makeup and looked hot as hell despite the weird smile and was also probably Rockwood's ex-partner Jesse. "You gotta be fucking kidding me," Rockwood replied. "So I heard through the grapevine that this Witch Doctor knew the ritual to change sex, get a new identity, shave a few years off, and thought 'great, I'll do that and hopefully my idiot partner will get the message.' Did you even read the letter I left you?" "Huh? What letter?" "The one that said, 'leave town "Roach," don't come after me'?" "Didn't see it." but that he used "Roach" would have meant an immediate exit out of town. That was a word that once invoked meant, "do what I say no questions asked," in our language. Jesse crossed her arms and hesitatingly said, "Jeron, what did you do with the letter..." Jeron laughed and said, "you are a great piece of ass, Jesse, but I told you that the real genetic deal was Rockwood. You knew that when you made the agreement but I figured you'd pull some shit and try to warn him. I had you watched and we got that letter out while this guy was asleep. Easy stuff, kitten." "Ah, fuck this," Rockwood said and started lining up another shot. This bullshit was running down his clock. "Wait," he thought. "I need to run down his clock." Rockwood's mind started racing. This fucker was horny as hell and thought with his dick. That was going to be his weakness. Rockwood thought, "I bet he can't say 'no' to pussy." Bent over and aiming Rockwood looked at the redhead and said, "this is bullshit. I don't believe it." Jesse replied, "It's me, D. I could tell you about that time we to-" "Nah, that's not the part I don't believe." Rockwood noticed the puzzled expression on Jesse's face and finished, "What I don't believe is that you'd have sex with this guy." Jeron chuckled. Jesse replied, "well, yeah. I'm a straight woman. And that scent, damn." She sidled up to Jeron and started rubbing her face on his bicep. "Yeah, I could do him right now." "Yeah? Well I refuse to believe you until I see it for myself." Rockwood let his request sink in and then turned around to take his shot, glancing off of the 6 but putting it in a position to be an easy shot in the future while leaving his opponent with a bad placement. There was a slight look in Jesse's eye, maybe of understanding, and she said, "Jeron, let me give you a BJ in the bathroom real quick. Rockwood can watch." Jeron looked at one of his crew and said, "knock on the door in ten minutes or so." Then he and Jesse walked into the bathroom. Rockwood looked at the table, the balls, the doors, and as tempting as it all was, he knew the pact would immediately forfeit me if he tried anything. The hunter made his way for the bathroom and shut the door behind him, locking it. The bathroom seemed about half the size it did before with all three of them in it, and Jesse was only a couple of feet away as she dropped on her knees and started unzipping Jeron's black jeans. Rockwood took a deep breath and smelled the cologne, this time it was like a freshly baked loaf of bread. Just seeing Jesse on her knees made him start wanting to touch his new body everywhere. "We needed to be in here for fifteen minutes and then I would be free," Rockwood thought.. Jeron's penis was long, thick, and uncircumcised and Jesse started massaging it and licking the shaft as soon as she pulled it out of his pants. Rockwood was only about three or four feet away from it, and it was like he could feel the heat coming off of it. His palms started getting sweaty. Jeron closed his eyes as Jesse started sucking it. Rockwood saw nothing of his old partner in this new young redhead, but he was barely thinking straight anyway. All he could think about was the smell and that cock. His mouth watered watching his partner blowing Jeron and without even realizing it, he started squeezing his breast with one hand, getting it out of his tank top, then moaned with an "urk" noise. Rockwood then stuck his other hand down his already drenched shorts. He caught Jeron's eye watching him playing with himself but didn't stop. Instead, in the middle of his mental blurring, he wondered if watching him getting off wouldn't help make this last longer. "Maybe he'll forget all about that timer," Rockwood thought, barely remembering it himself. He couldn't help but think about how bad he wanted to taste that cock too. The desire was overpowering. Outside the door, Rockwood heard the clanking of a wallet chain heading towards the door. "Fuck The ten minute warning." Before the man could get to the door, Rockwood stepped forward and got down on his knees looking up at the Witch Doctor saying, "Let me suck it." He was going with his gut, anything to delay, but couldn't help but realize that when he looked in his mind for disgust at the prospect of sucking Jeron's cock, he could find none. That was when there was a knock on the door. "Just a minute!" Jeron yelled and looked down at Rockwood while Jesse continued blissfully blowing him. Jeron reached down with his large calloused hand and rubbed Rockwood's exposed breast, then pulled his cock out of Jesse's mouth and let her suck on his finger instead. She barely knew the difference. It was like she was on drugs. Lost in the moment, Rockwood licked his lips and started letting Jeron rub his warm dick on his mouth, still sticky from Jesse's saliva. The hunter opened up wide and let the cock in, massaging it with his tongue less for Jeron's enjoyment and more for his. He let it hit the back of his throat and it only made his pussy wetter. "Fuck," Rockwood thought, "this feels amazing. It's like doing MDMA or something." Rockwood blew the Witch Doctor while he and Jesse moaned in unison on their knees in the bathroom for what felt like barely a few seconds when suddenly Jeron jerked away, and was gone in a flash, leaving the two women gasping for more. "What the fuck," Rockwood said regaining his senses. He stood up as Jesse groggily said, "where'd Jeron go?" Before he could even get through the bathroom door, he heard the familiar sound of a ball sinking into a pocket and looked at his reflection. "Guess that was the 6," Rockwood thought, taking in the changes. More makeup, earrings, and blonde highlights in the hair. The white tube top had turned into a lacy white strapless corset, that stopped right on the ribs, and was low cut enough that the top of his areolas were in view. Instead of jean shorts, there was an incredibly short jean skirt and beneath it Rockwood could only feel a tiny thong. The thickly heeled boots had turned into tall high-heeled black boots that came up to the calf. "Damn," Rockwood thought, "I look insanely hot." He walked back to the table, this time wondering how many people'd heard him moaning in the bathroom. The tall heels gave him a determined and sexy strut. He approached the Witch Doctor feeling strangely relaxed. He'd casually accepted the changes without even consciously realizing. Rockwood cleared his throat. "I can't believe I just sucked your dick," the hunter said, trying to catch Jeron by surprise. He smelled like freshly cut grass. "How the fuck is the pact letting you get away with that fragrance." Jeron gave Rockwood a look like he was still peering up at him from the floor of a bathroom and said, "Because I was wearing it when you agreed to the pact. You didn't seem to mind." Rockwood smirked and nodded. The Witch Doctor missed on the 8-ball shot. Rockwood bent over the table to miss the 11, an easy corner shot, after he felt a breeze go up his skirt. "Barely even a thong back there I guess," he sighed letting Jeron hear that lamentation. "You turned out well. I've been looking for decades to find someone acceptable enough to pass on my bloodline. You know how strange curses can be," Jeron said, putting his hands around Rockwood's waist to gently move him out of the way and look at the table. Rockwood could only respond by thinking about how badly he wanted to be thrown on the table and fucked. He averted his gaze and instead took a long look at his new body in the mirrored wall. "Your partner can still walk away whenever she wants," Jeron emphasized, as Jesse emerged from the bathroom and went to the bar for a drink. "I figured." The final shot was a chancy one and the Witch Doctor played it safe, setting Rockwood up for as bad or even worse of a shot. "How much of me will be left?" Rockwood asked, tapping his head. "You'll still be you. Just... you'll be with me," Jeron replied with a sly and somewhat sexy smile, then tilted Rockwood's head back for a kiss. "I need a shot," Rockwood said after kissing back, and walked to the bar. "Shot of bourbon and put it on his tab," he said gesturing towards Jeron, having no trouble getting the bartender's attention and service, the shot arrived in seconds. Rockwood downed and and said "another," looking at Jesse. Who was pretending to look at a game on TV and ignore him. At this point, Rockwood had a couple of good options: he could say, "Desperado," and let his partner off the hook, as in, "Just get away, don't worry about me." Or he could say, "Dexter Jetser," which his partner recognize as a reminder of the life debt that Jesse owed Rockwood. It would mean he'd be honorbound by supernatural forces to do whatever he could to save Rockwood from this fate. Rockwood hesitated then whispered something inaudible in Jesse's ear, who turned in shock, and downed the second shot. He strutted back to the table, breathing deeply of the cologne. "If I lose," Rockwood said, drained of confidence, "ah fuck it, if I lose then remember that I did this willingly and you took advantage. Treat me with some fucking respect, Jeron." "I'll take care of you," Jeron replied, his jaw set earnestly. "Even if you win, if you want. I have a large estate in El Salvador." Rockwood did his best to aim, pushed the frosted locks out of his face, and tasted the lipstick on his lips. He sent the cue ball across the table as best he could, crashing into the 11 and sinking it into a side pocket. Unable to put any english on the ball with his new body, Rockwood watched the cue ball slowly stroll down the side of the table, bank once, and then fall right into the corner pocket closest to where his short skirt touched the table. Rockwood pressed his body close to Jeron's, between the Witch Doctor and the table, shifting upwards with spread legs to sit on it. His body oozed sex as they made out like young lovers in full view of the tavern. Rockwood felt 50/50 "desire to distract and win" vs. "overwhelming desire and attraction." When Jeron pulled away to make the final shot, the Hunter had never felt more conflicted in his feelings. But then the game was over. Rockwood lost. She didn't cry or complain. She was still Darryl Rockwood, just relaxed. Much more relaxed. "C'mon, J. You know what I need," is all Rockwood said as she walked towards the bathroom. Jeron followed. Rockwood closed the bathroom door and locked it, then said, "Don't make me suck your dick first, just fuck me," and pulled a couple of cords on the top of her corset so her nipples were fully exposed. "From the back, baby," she said, bending over. She gripped the sink for balance and looked in the mirror at her reflection. She wore a heavy-lidded expression and fogged the glass up with her breath. Her nose was filled with the smell of apple pie. She felt her skirt get pulled up around her waist and her thong get pulled to the side. "Cum in me, J. Just cum inside me." She felt his hard cock flop against her ass and arched her back and spread her legs in response. Jeron positioned the head of it up against her pussy and started slowly guiding it in. She was surprised at how easily he could enter her and flexed a muscle inside her around his cock. If he only went in a few inches, she would have had an orgasm, but he just kept going deeper and deeper, and then pulling out and finding a way to go back in even deeper, that she found her body shuddering almost non-stop. He pushed as deep as her body would allow, grabbed her tightly around her hips, and then she felt a gush of warmth as he came inside her. Again, and again, he came, each time as far inside Rockwood's vagina as his thick cock would let him. Filled with his semen, Jeron seemed to have even more for her and she thought back to all of his comments about "superior genetic material." He wanted her to make babies with. She smiled and thought about that last shot, how she could have gone just a touch lighter and she might not be getting filled with amazing cock right now. She felt him fill her again after turning to face her handsome lover. He held her close against his hard body, as she let out a quiet and bemused "lucky break."