Transformed! Nine Magically Erotic Stories (29 page)

The decor in Caleb's house was standard suburban fare. Suede couches, tile floors, lots of plants and pots and clocks. Pictures of the family on the walls—everyone smiling. Though, the older everyone got, the more Caleb’s pretty stepsister became flat-out gorgeous, and the more dangerous Caleb started to look—especially in the most recent picture. All those sexy tattoos on his arms and neck.

Maryse had never, ever been turned down before. To be turned down like that...when her mouth had been hovering over his cock, downright salivating for it...

It was immensely frustrating. And it was with this frustration that she followed Caleb upstairs and encountered Felicia again. The door to the young witch's room was covered with runes and symbols—much like Caleb’s tattoos.

When she had seen Felicia at the camp—very briefly—she had been concerned that the older girl, or woman really, was perhaps more beautiful than her. When Felicia opened the door, this concern was no longer in “perhaps” mode.

She was flat out gorgeous. Her hair, long and dark, was like a shimmering, thick shiny shadow trailing down her back. Her eyes were large and green, full of easy, hot seduction. She wore tight leather pants and an even tighter black corset, highlighting the luscious divide of toned, creamy flesh between her wide hips and expansive, mouth-watering bust. Maryse didn't want many girls right away, despite her bisexual urges—usually it took her some time to become aware of her attraction.

Not so with Felicia. All of Maryse’s bisexual buttons were getting pressed, hard, by Felicia’s presence.

“It happened again,” said Caleb. “I need your help. This is Heather...”

He let Heather’s presence speak for itself. The newly-made slave was leaning against the hallway, staring worshipfully at Caleb, fingering her hot pussy and whispering praise to her God.

Felicia’s eyebrows shot up, her mouth hanging open. “Oh, no. Oh, Caleb!”

She hugged her brother close—and Maryse could not help but notice how her incredible tits—so huge and impossibly bouncy—crushed against his wiry frame.

“Yes,” said Felicia, rubbing Caleb's back. “I can take care of this,” she said. “I can take care of you.”

“Mmm,” moaned Heather. “I bet you can. Master can probably take care of
both
of us.”

Heather licked her lips lustily, clearly imagining Caleb fucking his step-sister. And because Maryse saw Heather imagining that, she had to imagine it herself...and found herself oddly attracted to the notion.

It seemed...
right
, somehow...

“That’s terrible,” said Caleb. He turned to Felicia. “You see what I mean?”

“Yes.” Felicia nodded, though she cast an inquiring, almost inviting glance over to Maryse. “I can handle it, I believe. Though you will have to stay here while I work on her. She will be...pained, without you, I think.”

Felicia's voice had a faintly exotic tinge to it—some accent hidden over the years, European in origin, perhaps. It only added to her allure.

“I had questions, too,” said Maryse, grabbing Felicia. “I really want to know—”

“I understand. But you’ll have to wait. This—” Felicia pointed at Heather. “—or she, rather, is the priority. Time is of the essence. If we don’t take care of her, she may be permanently stuck in this state. You understand? We must be alone, now.”

Not waiting for a response, Felicia slipped back inside her room, grabbing Heather roughly, who giggled at the roughness. Once again, Maryse’s needs were turned down for the sake of Heather.

This was getting to be rather annoying.

Caleb waited, letting the door stay ajar, to talk to Maryse.

“I’m sorry about what happened in the car,” he said. “I really...I didn’t want to offend you. I apologize if I did.”

Maryse threw her hair back. “It doesn’t matter.”

“We can...I mean, when this blows over, if you like? We can hang out...some place calm? Without anyone else?”

“It depends.” Maryse sighed. “It depends on a lot. You’re right, I am offended. And you have making up to do.”

Very easily, she could have left it at that, ensuring that he spent the rest of the day agonizing about how he had fucked up by turning her down. But she had something different in mind. Instead, she slid forward, pushing her thigh between Caleb’s legs. She could
feel
his thickness there.

“I know you’re worried about all that power inside of you...all that control.” She kissed his neck, and then dragged her tongue up to his ear. She could see that Felicia could see her. Maryse didn’t care. “I’m not worried about it. Not at all. I think it’s...fun, that you can do what you do. Hot.
Sexy
. Think about that.”

Like Felicia, she didn’t wait for a response. Instead, she stepped downstairs and slipped outside into the open summer air. In her pocket, her phone began to buzz—it was Bryce.

Maryse sighed.

She knew she would have to deal with him eventually, she had just hoped it would be later. Really, she mostly hoped he would just give up and go his own way, just thanking her for her time like she deserved.

But, boys were such silly creatures sometimes. He probably though she owed him an explanation of her desires, or something inane like that.

She was just about to answer the phone when a small, pink-haired woman in skintight leathers grabbed Maryse by the arm and walked her up the driveway, pinning her to the side of Bryce's car.

“Oh my,” said Maryse. “Who are you?”

Sexual energy coursed through Maryse. She couldn’t explain it. Everyone and everything she came across felt like prey to her. Caleb, Felicia, and now this delectable little beauty.

Perhaps it was because she had so easily conquered Caleb in the car. Caleb, who transformed into a fuck-beast that could dominate and own the wills of anyone alive. Maryse had seduced him and made him hers—she was utterly certain of that, even if they hadn't sealed the deal.

“Has he bitten you?” the woman asked Maryse.

Her voice was thickly accented, Russian or something similar. She looked built from that sort of stock—her body so tight and small, like a gymnast.

Maryse tried to weasel out of her grasp, to no avail.  “Has who done what?”

“The werewolf. Has he bitten you?”

The woman was severely pretty—or pretty in a severe way, rather. Her nose was sharp, her lips pointed, her eyes a brilliant, shining, piercing ice blue, and her dark hair cut short, a shock of pink flowing to one side. She was like some punk rock bounty hunter diva.

A utility belt was strapped from one end of her waist to her shoulder, holding vials and small metal blades and gadgets. On her waist was a small crossbow and two firearms. Maybe one of them was a taser? Maryse didn't know about such things. All she knew was that this foreign beauty was armed to the teeth.

“Are you talking about Caleb?”

“Is that his name? Yes. Him.” She slammed Maryse against the car again. “Has he bitten you?”

“No!” Maryse took a deep breath, and tried to compose herself. More flies with honey, and all of that. “He hasn't bitten anyone, as far as I know. Would you let me go, please?”

She didn’t know why or how, but she instantly got a read on this woman as a lesbian—and very much of one. No sexual confusion left in her mind. In other words, someone Maryse could manipulate without too much trouble.

So of course, that instantly became Maryse's plan. Just because she thought she could.

With some hesitation, the small woman let Maryse go—but Maryse stayed close anyway.

“My name is Aksana, and I—” she stuttered a bit, looking down at Maryse’s fingers, where they were flowing across Maryse's substantial cleavage. Maryse’s other hand had trailed up Aksana’s arm, stroking it gently. “—I-I have been...I have been trailing him, the werewolf, Caleb...trailing for a month now. I am a hunter of his kind, and others like him.”

Aksana stepped back once more, and once more, Maryse followed after, her hands still sliding up Aksana's strong arm. The muscles there were like corded steel.

“You’ve been following him for a month and you didn’t know his name?”

Maryse could certainly see why. It would perhaps be hard to question people in the area without a decent, non-aggressive wardrobe...and skintight leather, layered down with tons of weapons, didn’t exactly fit the bill.

“I have been following his kind. There's a whole gang of them, and they've been through here recently. I think—” she shook her head. “I
know
something bad is going to happen here. And I've got to stop it.”

“Well.” Maryse took a breath. “Good luck with that, I suppose.”

Her hand slid over to Aksana's shoulders now, so tight—and finally the hunter slapped it away. Maryse giggled.

Aksana shook a finger wildly. “You like this Caleb?”

Maryse considered that. “I suppose so.”

“Then you should know he is in danger. I hold no malevolence for him, but he is dangerous. You should stay away from him.”

Maryse shrugged. “Perhaps I will.”

Whatever this Aksana knew, she clearly didn't seem to know that Felicia was a witch. If she did, Maryse doubted she would dare to be so close to the house in broad daylight.

Seeming to actively will the aggression out of her stance and posturing for the first time since their encounter began, Aksana took a breath and grabbed Maryse's hands.

“Listen to me—this is
serious.
He is going to die soon. I know he is. I can...sense this thing. It is a power of mine. A curse, too. That is true. But, I have a cure for him—for the entirety of his lycanthropy. But, you have to convince him to come to me. If you do not...it could mean trouble. Big trouble.”

Maryse was already bored with this conversation. Oh sure, yes, she was going to cure the werewolf king that she wanted to fuck and rule this little town with—if not even more! What a nuisance this little hunter was.

And yet, she didn't suspect Maryse's true motivations at all—most likely because Aksana was already smitten with her. How fun.

Just to get rid of her, Maryse asked, “How can I contact you then, if I need to?”

“Use this.”

She handed Maryse a small totem of an owl, showing her that she also had one strapped to her chest along with all the vials and knives. “Push the head in like this,” Aksana showed her. “And mine starts glowing. See? And I can use it to find you.”

“And what if I just want to see you again? If maybe I like the way you toss me around?”

Aksana blushed furiously. “This is serious, as I said. You ought to take it seriously. If you don't get him to come to me, I will be assuming he is hostile. And I will have to kill him.”

“Okay, okay,” said Maryse, waving her hand. “Contact Caleb, let him know you're a...whatever-you-are. Helper.”

Aksana frowned and turned, starting to leave. Feeling naughty, Maryse slapped her on the ass as she walked away. The lovely, small woman let out just the slightest of squeaks, and then pressed something on her utility belt, shimmering into invisibility.

Well, thought Maryse. How about that?

“Bye, lovely,” Maryse called out. “I hope I see you around soon.”

* * * * *

O
nce upon a time—very long ago it seemed like now, though in reality it was just the day before, Lauren had been on the cusp of a perfect summer.

And now, she considered, holding the town jock superstud in her arms...now...

It wasn't
perfect
. She couldn't call it that—not with being taken somewhat against her will by a sort-of-ex-boyfriend-turned-werewolf, and her boss becoming a sex slave, and magic suddenly being completely real and perfectly dangerous.

But...even with all that, it wasn't so bad.

She stroked Bryce's hair, enjoying the feel of his masculine body against the pillows of her breasts. On his shoulder, she could still see the strange, mystic runes of the bite on his body from where Caleb had attacked him.

The sex that Lauren had with Caleb had been just phenomenal. It had been against Lauren's will up until the point of seeing the incredible length and width of it—then, she knew she just
had
to fuck him. At that point, there was nothing else on her mind except for being a fuckable female in front of a ready-to-fuck male. It was primal, hot, and glorious.

But, as incredible as it had been, it didn't erase her feelings for Bryce.

Lauren was absolutely consumed at the moment by what was happening between her and Bryce. After she had sucked him off in the morning, he held her for a long time without saying anything. She was terrified that he would be angry with her—that somehow she had taken advantage of him. He looked as though he had been in that strange trance, after all.

But, afterward, he asked to hold Lauren for a while, and that was nice.

She rather liked cuddling, she had decided. They would both form half-sentences, each waking the other from dozing, and then slide back into a blissful, hot sleep once more.

It bothered Lauren to an extent, of course, about how
little
being fucked by a werewolf bothered her. Or how little somehow being magically induced to suck Bryce’s cock bothered her. Just all that ability to give in, to let the moment overtake her and not worry about the consequences, to relinquish control...to make it so that all that fucking and heat and naughtiness was anyone’s fault but hers...

God, that got her hot.

Giving in. Surrendering. Submitting.

Maybe that’s what she was—a submissive. A true submissive. Just one that...wanted control the rest of the time. What sort of sexuality was that? What kind of personality?

She supposed it was hers.

As the sun rose up, Lauren realized she would have to deal with the other counselors. So, with a quick apology, she explained that to Bryce, and they both silently and quickly got dressed and gathered their things.

Dressed in tight jeans and an even tighter green tee shirt—her breasts hopefully looking good enough for Bryce to give plenty of attention to—Lauren addressed her fellow counselors in a crowd in front of their cabins.

She explained to their apprehensive and slightly annoyed faces that the storm during the previous night had caused too much damage to the main complex to fix, and that Heather had fallen seriously ill. They seemed to buy it, or at least, didn't question her. They knew that, whatever the truth of last night was, it definitely wasn't Lauren's fault. She rather liked having all their trust like that.