the Sorcerer’s Daughter

part 3

The story so far: Our Hero, a wealthy businessman, has tried to sexually harass a young intern, who’s father is a sorcerer. After a night and day of humiliation, torture and related fun and games, he’s confronted by the intern.

Lisa Rosen just stood there looking at me. She could have taught a cat who’d eaten the canary how to smile. I imagine it must have been a very amusing scene for her.

Yesterday at this time I was Mark Banyon, stockbroker, and Lisa’s boss. I was the undisputed King in my brokerage, and Lisa was a new intern I had tried to manipulate into my bed. I had hinted that her career was going to turn on how our relationship went, and had simply told her that I was going to see her the previous evening, despite any plans she might have already made.

I was currently a blonde girl, with boobs the size of prize watermelons spilling over the skimpy top of my French maid’s outfit. Her father had altered me, played with me, and generally used me as a slut. From the look in Lisa’s eyes, she seemed to wholeheartedly approve. On the other hand, I’d had a dildo strapped into place in my mouth all morning, and it had vanished the moment she’d come in, so I figured she must have magical powers like her father. That might be a good thing, or it might be trouble—though, I really couldn’t see how I could possibly be in any more trouble than I was.

“The skirt suits you, Jiggles,” she said. Oh, great. Now they’d all heard that nickname Bert/Betty had stuck on me.

“No,” she said, “Dad hasn’t heard it yet. But don’t worry,” she continued, giving my left tit a friendly pat-pat, “He will.”

“Lisa, please, please—” I got out before I felt—something—in my throat.

“I am an absolute worthless, craven worm,” I found myself saying. “I had absolutely no right to address you so commonly, Mistress, and I most certainly deserve any punishment you please to inflict on me for it. I am a toad, I am a slave, I am vermin. I have always been a devoted cocksucker, and I’m glad this body gives me so many opportunities to have a big, hard dick spurting in my mouth. I certainly hope you weren’t planning to change me back into a man anytime soon. In fact, there’s absolutely no reason I should ever be a man again.”

She was laughing out loud by then, and I was finally able to shut up. “You did a good job on the dishes, Jiggles. Now, put some hot dogs on to boil, we’re going to the beach.”

“Yes, Mistress,” was the only safe thing I could think to say. Her eyes gleamed as I dutifully went to the stove and started a pot boiling. She listed everything she wanted packed, and said to have it ready in half an hour. It occurred to me, with the powers she and her father had, why they had people doing maid work for them, why—

“Because,” she cut off my train of thought, giving me a chill distinct from the draft up my teeny tiny microskirt. “Because we want to, because, sometimes, with people like you,” she said, pronouncing ‘you’ like you would ‘shit,’ “It’s just plain fun.”

She smiled so prettily, flashing her even white teeth, and laughed. “I’m going to have a lot of fun with you.”

I got down on my knees, carefully so I didn’t fall as my boobs swung around and about. “Mistress, please, I humbly beg permission to apolo-”

The dildo suddenly reappeared in my mouth, strapped in tight. “You’ve finished talking,” she explained. “Now cook, Marcia.”

As I peeled the wrapper off the hot dogs, she slid up behind me. “You wanted to have fun with me, right?” All I could do was nod. She reached over and flicked the exposed tip of my nipple to get my attention. “So, you have absolutely no objection to us having some fun, now, do you?”

I shook my head, desperate to agree, to not displease her. She smiled, and the dildo grew a little longer and a lot thicker. I almost couldn’t breathe, but I figured they wouldn’t want to kill me. That would interfere with their fun and games.

By the time the hot dogs were ready, Bert—actually, Betty, had come in in a tiny little scrap of bikini and told me how everyone liked their hot dogs. I still couldn’t figure out why Bert, Lisa’s father had given the power to change his shape at will would actually like being female, much less being ordered around as a maid. It still gave me the willies, having to sit down and have the piss pour out my cunt.

“Listen, Marcia,” he said as I slathered some mustard on a row of buns. “The thing is, Lisa’d invited me and a boyfriend of mine along to the beach. He called to beg out of it, so…” I could see where she was going, and I didn’t like it. My fears were confirmed when he suddenly changed, becoming the 6'6" giant who’d screwed me into comatose ecstasy last night. My eyes dropped of their own volition to the incredible bulge under his speedos.

“I could tell Lisa that you’re my date, and you could come with us.” He must have seen the panicked look in my eyes. “The alternative, you stay here while Steve has some friends to come over. You’d no doubt be…supplying the entertainment. The thing is, you can be a sex toy for a couple of dozen men, or for me. So?”

It was a no-brainer, but I wasn’t able to talk with my mouth full. I needed some way to tell him…I just stepped forward and hugged him, feeling a sharp poke in my stomach as his massive manhood started to arouse itself. It was kind of impressive, how with one quick hug he was able to fondle both my tits and my ass.

As I turned back to the picnic makin’s, I realized more than ever that Bert would be my only way out of here. They liked him, definitely, and as much fun as Bert had enjoyed at my expense, he was the only one involved who didn’t outright despise me. There was a chance to actually make a friend of him, I thought, as he goosed me.

Mr. Rosen—I was allowed to call him ‘Master-’ just shrugged when Bert said he wanted to take me as his beach date. Rosen waved his hand absent-mindedly in my direction, and my maid’s outfit was gone, replaced by a very skimpy, electric pink bikini. Bert grinned, and thanked Rosen.

Rosen returned the smile and said “Hey Bert, do you know the best way to make a bikini sexier?”

Bert grinned. “Why, yes, Steve, I seem to remember that.” He turned to me, grinning, and said “You make the top bigger and the bikini smaller.”

I was vaguely aware that the front panel of my bottom was shrinking in on itself, and that the back was just barely wide enough now to divide my cheeks. The show in front had my attention.

My boobs surged out, and the inadequate triangles that had covered it seemed to separate from their strings right before my eyes. Instead of falling off, though, they just formed a ring about a foot into each vast expanse of tit. The panels supposedly covering me were getting even smaller, and were held on by strings attached to the ring farther up each boob.

As I made my way back to the kitchen, trying to keep upright against the load I had hanging from my chest, I passed a mirror. An insanely busty blonde, blue eyes, blonde hair in a microscopic bikini. The two pigtails tied in my hair were even tied with pink ribbons, just too cute over my vast chest. A perfect fuckdoll.

What little material was left for my bikini top was rather thin, and the nipples underneath stood out distinctly. My nipples were now about eight inches wide, and were covered, but not by much. I also noticed that the welts on the back of my legs from the vicious spanking I’d received earlier were gone. I’d noticed that such things were healing unnaturally fast—no doubt so that a number of spankings could be ‘enjoyed’ each day.

Bert had already taken the picnic basket out to the car. Lisa was there in a bikini that would normally be rather daring—but, compared to mine, she was the very picture of modesty. So was the man she’d gone out with the previous night, in a bright red swimsuit. “Marcia, this is Ken McCoy. Suck his dick.” She said curtly, and the dildo was gone. Ken, for his part, seemed rather casual about an astoundingly busty blonde in a tiny scrap of bikini obediently dropping to her knees and sucking on his rod. In barely a minute he was spurting cum down my throat.

After swallowing his wad, I couldn’t get back up, and found my tongue automatically flicking out to clean Ken up. I wasn’t surprised to see he had twelve inches in him, too—Lisa’s doing, no doubt.

As I stood up, Lisa said “Happy early birthday, Bert!” and again my bikini shrank. The bottom was virtually a G-string, with only a token one-inch triangle before the string flossed my ass to reach the tiny little strip that barely covered my cunt, though not the downy blonde hair around it. At least my nipples didn’t grow as my tits ballooned again, but the panels that had covered them shrank again, leaving second ‘holding rings’ way down my boobs, that then held the strings that ‘covered’ me—but where the triangles had been just covering my nipples, now they almost fit entirely inside those rosy circles.

Lisa’s car was a four-door Chevy, and as Bert and I climbed into the back seat he whispered “Watch your nips” at me. I realized my rack was jutting so far forward I was in danger of closing the door on a rather tender portion of myself.

The drive wasn’t too bad—my gigantic tits were incapable of being still in any case, and I suspect Lisa was deliberately aiming for bumps and potholes. Once we got out on the fairly smooth highway, Lisa ‘suggested’ that since I was Bert’s date for the afternoon, he should get a blow job as well as Ken. Bert was kind enough to slide off his swimsuit and I slurped as much of his twelve inches into my mouth as I could. I’d just started sliding my tongue around his shaft when he came in a long, drawn-out stream. I must have swallowed half a pint. After he came in my mouth another seven times he seemed satisfied. He even gave me a napkin to wipe the cum off my face, and I carefully licked him clean.

Everything was going well until the conversation got around to movies. I hadn’t said much on the trip—and then, only to Bert—when Ken said something about Bruce Willis only being known anymore as the husband of a movie star. Without thinking, I replied that he still had a few movies left in him.

Ken craned his neck around to frown at me. “Who the hell asked you?” he snarled, with genuine annoyance.

“Yeah,” Lisa agreed, and the inevitable dildo was strapped back in place. Bert just smiled and gave me a friendly fondle on my right tit.

Lisa drove to Maycress Beach, a place I’d been to often enough—often, with a new young intern on my arm eager to make a good impression on the boss—or even his mattress. It was a nice place for a party, but not the type of place people strolled around on with dildos stuck in their mouths. Lisa drove along until the crowd thinned out just a bit, and the pulled into an open space between an RV and an old blue van. She stopped the motor, and almost everyone got out.

“Oh, yeah,” she chuckled as she saw me cowering in my seat, a desperately pleading look in my eyes. “We’re not going to make you parade around like that,” she said as the dildo vanished. I smiled and said through sore jaws “Thank you most kindly, noble Mistress.” I decided it would be counterproductive to complain about how illegal my bikini was.

Bert and Ken were laughing so hard I almost didn’t hear her say “yet.”

I was easily the bustiest girl on the beach, maybe the world, and was in the tiniest, skimpiest excuse for a bikini. I could feel the eye tracks all over me as we carried the basket and blankets down the shallow hill and spread them out just above the high tide line. “Shake it, “Whoa momma,” and “Cowabunga” were the battle cries as every guy for a hundred yards just happened to stop by to watch me setting out the picnic.

The guys were standing eight to ten deep around us as everyone started eating, though after the wiener Bert had given me on the way out, I was still full. I decided to try to ignore the roar of the crowd and eat when Ken suggested to Lisa that I could “distract” the crowd.

Lisa smiled, and I found myself getting up a lot faster than I ever could have under my own power. I smiled at the ring of boys standing around our blanket, clasped my hands coyly behind me, and gave my shoulders a sudden shake, setting my boobs swinging this way and that.

A wave of applause, whistles and rather crude yells blasted out. I think they heard it in England. I started sashaying away, towards the snack shack way off by the road entrance. I was walking a lot steadier than I could have managed even under a lesser load, and the entourage I’d picked up was swelling dramatically by the time I’d reached the shack.

I strode up to the one customer there, a pudgy man in his thirties. “Hi there, sugah,” I drawled in a syrupy sweet, little-girl voice. I stepped up, catching him in my enormous cleavage, and gently rubbed my boobs against him as I stroked his arm and fluttered my eyelashes at him. “Could you possibly get lil’ ol’ me a popsicle?”

“Wh-wh-wh-what flavor?” he stammered, faced with more tit than he’d ever touched before in his life.

Armed with my cherry popsicle, I tongued it and sucked it and made a real spectacle of it, and the crowd loved it! I was walking up on the ridge above where everyone was parked, and I finally stopped in back of Lisa’s car, along with about five hundred fans.

That’s when the guy in the black speedo turned up his boom box. I was (in my old, male life) old enough to loathe modern music, but I found myself swinging and twisting and dancing, somehow keeping in rhythm with the wild surges and rollings of my boobs.

After a few minutes, a fresh, excited cry went up from the crowd: One of the strings holding the panel over my right nipple had given way!!

Now over the music I could hear, along with the continual “Take it off” and “Show us the rest” shouts like (as another string went) “Here they come!!” and (Another string, as well as one from my left side) “Weapons free!!” (Two more strings) “Cap’n! She canna’ take no more! She’s gonna blow!!” and then as I swung around my right boob burst through, pushing my nipple out past the insignificant piece of cloth.

I was mortified and embarrassed to my core, and I laughed liltingly, smiled to the guys and pulled the string behind my back. My top came off, and I flung it into the appreciative crowd, sparking a small riot. When I danced my way out of my little bottom, I handed it directly to the driver of the blue van. “I don’t want to get sunburned,” I said. “Is it all right if I lie down in your van?”

He was more than agreeable, and I turned to the small army and yelled “GANG BANG IN THE VAN!!!”

They literally picked me up on their shoulders and carried me—face down, everyone wanted a chance to grab my tits. I was thrown onto the mattress in the back of the van, and three guys climbed in and slipped out of their trunks.

The first one straddled me and plunged his little six-inch (I tried not to let him realize I was laughing at him) tool into my sopping wet pussy. The second guy climbed on my face, and while I’d become used to much bigger rods in my mouth, he made up for it by using his weight to drive it in.

The third guy straddled me just in front of the first, and buried his dick between my mountainous tits. The man in my mouth finished first, and while he got back into his swimsuit and I swallowed his cum, another guy came in. He doffed his trunks and rammed his cock in my mouth just as the guy on my tits spurted on me, and as he got up another one came in…

It went on for an hour, and then two. A neighbor of mine’s son fucked me good (and came back again later to use my mouth) and I even recognized one of my interns, Larry Croft, as he slid his dick into my mouth. Before coming, he pulled out at the last second, squirting jism all over my face. He certainly wasn’t the first—by then, I was covered, and my hair matted down. I smiled sweetly at him and said “Thanks, stud. That was wonderful. I’m really glad you ca—” the rest being cut off by a dick whipping into my mouth.

The sun was down by the time I climbed out of that van. Lisa must have “arranged” it so I could keep swallowing, but I still felt sick. All that cock, sticking in me and coming on me…and I’d just giggled and begged for more.

Lisa met me as I walked back to the blanket, naked except for the sperm crusting all over me. “Well?” she asked. I was more than a little unsteady, the grace I’d used to capture the hearts and dicks of half a thousand men gone.

“Mistress, this afternoon I was screwed by 218 men.” I was amazed by my ability to remember the exact count—then I remembered who I was talking to. “I also had the joy of sucking 233 dicks, 235 including Mr. McCoy and Mr. Carter. And,” I continued, “I was able to tit-fuck 189 men.”

She smiled, thoughtfully. “A good start…maybe next time you can improve your record.”

“Mistress, I-” I started before catching myself.

“Ye-e-e-es?” she replied coldly. I thought desperately of something I could say to fill that awful gap. She looked at me for a long moment, and then drew back her head and laughed.

Finally she stopped and said “You know…it would be fitting. Have you here every day, fucking and sucking every man in sight. Should I?”

“Should I?” she repeated. “Make you the beach slut every day for the next thirty of forty years?”

I waited, but didn’t feel the anticipated stream of humiliating words from my mouth. After a moment, I said “Mistress, it’s not for me to decide. Whatever you wish me to do, Mistress, the that’s what I’ll do.”

She leaned closer and hissed “You’d just better remember that, Jiggles!” Pointing at the surf, she said “Now go wash up.”

I actually dozed off on the ride home. When we got to the Rosen mansion, Ken obligingly woke me up by dragging me out of the car by my left nipple.

There was a new maid, a black woman, with the trademark French maid outfit and DDDD jugs, who informed us that the Master was busy, and not to be disturbed. After showering to get the salt off, I clumsily climbed into bed with Bert. He was feeling amorous, and his hands were already busy even as I swung my feet up on the bed. It was funny, but even after being guest of honor at the gang-bang on the beach, it still bothered me having to sit and pee like the girl I was now.

“Bert, honey?” I asked, trying to be as friendly as I could to the one possible ally I might have.

“What is it, Jiggles?”

“You really like—you really like being a woman? Here?”

He smiled, and tweaked my nipple, making me gasp with the pleasure racing through me. “Sure, Jiggles. Want me to change and sit on your sweet little face?”

“Aren’t you afraid that after today, my tongue could make you pregnant?” He laughed out loud at that, then turned and stuck his 12 inches of manhood deep inside me.

After a couple of hours of Bert pumping sperm up me, , we showered again, and got back into the dry bed. He continued telling me why he was here.

“I’d just always fantasized about being a woman, when no one was home I’d wear my mom’s and older sister’s undies…I just felt so…pretty. I was attracted to women, sure, but I also fantasized about being one, for the ‘right’ guy.”

I assured him I wasn’t so old I didn’t understand bisexuality—hey, I’ve seen the porn vids, including adds for films that would have turned my stomach…and which Bert probably would have enjoyed.

Suddenly he turned and said, “The thing is, I don’t think you understand how lucky you are”

“Lucky?!?” I burst out, before grabbing control of myself. I must, I must be nice to this pansy who’d trade his manhood for a chance to play whore. “What do you mean, lucky?”

He lay back on the bed. “Remember when you vacuumed upstairs, in Steve’s bedroom, this morning? The cabinet with the women?”

There had been a glass-faced cabinet in the Master’s bedroom, all right. Shelves and shelves of little statues of nude women, all perfectly de-

I gasped. “Those aren’t statues, they—they’re…” I couldn’t say it.

“Steve’s very own private harem,” Bert said. “Every now and then, he or Lisa catch a man in the act of attacking someone. Of course,” he continued, as the thought hit me like a ton of bricks, “Steve’s been ‘collecting’ his harem for some time now.”

Some time…I remembered Steve was older, much older than he looked. “How—when—” I sputtered.

Bert hugged me, reaching around to give my boob a reassuring pat. His hand liked it there, and stayed. “In 1779, an assassin tried to kill a friend of Steve’s. Steve turned him into a girl and gave her to his friend. After his friend died—of natural causes—Steve took her to start his…collection.”

We drifted off to sleep then, though Bert was snoring long before I could get any sleep. I was afraid I’d wake up weeks or months later, brought back to life size to entertain the Master’s friends. That started me off on the path of wondering whether he Master, the more powerful, was a greater danger than his daughter, who had taken my advances towards her very personally.

And Bert…Betty…whoever, he seemed to like it here. He enjoyed these kind of sex games, for whatever perverted reason…and was still my best chance out of here, I remembered, and smiled up at him as his fingers played lightly with my nipple.

Sunday morning. I woke up in Bert’s fondling embrace. Tomorrow, I realized, I had to go to my brokerage, and not to dance a striptease for the guys. I needed a way to talk to my all-powerful captors about it without having a dildo appear in my mouth. I was trying to figure this one out when Bert playfully squeezed my boob and said “Good morning, Marcia.”

My boobs were smaller now, though certainly larger than what I’d woken up with the previous morning. Suddenly it hit me.

“Bert, honey, I really need a big favor!”

“Sorry, but they’d be able to find you anywhere—even if you hitched a ride on the space shuttle.”

“No, I realize that.” I smiled, putting all my charm into it. “I really need to talk to the Master or Mistress.” He smiled at the way I had to refer to them, even in private, and I continued “The brokerage, the business, it’s not going to run itself, and when I don’t show up, people are going to start wondering—if they’re not already looking for me.”

He nodded sleepily, and said “Oh, okay, yeah, I’ll talk to Steve about it.” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stood up, smiling at me. “Hey Marcia, how about a blowjob?”

I let a moments revulsion cross my face before getting a grip on myself, but—

“Oh, you don’t want to suck me off this morning?” He demanded. “Are you thinking that a rich stockbroker like yourself is just too good to go down on me? The thing is, you certainly didn’t seem nearly as picky yesterday!!”

He glared at me, while I shrank back, furious at the way I’d blown my chance. Finally he smiled.

“Hey, I’m just kidding,” he said, pulling me up to sit on the edge of the bed. He kneeled down to look into my eyes and said “Just teasing, you know that, honey. After all, you’re my favorite girl.”

I managed a weak smile, and then he stood up again, waving his hard thick foot of dick in my face. “So, how’s about it, Jiggles?” I opened my mouth, and started tonguing him gently.

After licking him clean, he selected his clothes from the variety in his closet. Mine were set out on the table by the dresser: High heels, skintight pink bicycle shorts and a very brief T-shirt halter. I would have been embarrassed by the amount of tit rolling and swaying out from under my little top, but I was hoping it would distract attention from the lettering on the shirt: “OLYMPIC COCKSUCKING TEAM.”

Everyone else was at breakfast, but I was full already from the half dozen wads Bert had shot down my throat. I was passing by the study when a man came out and spun me around. After catching myself against the wall so my swaying tits didn’t topple me, I looked up and saw—

Brian Dell, one of the interns that came in in the new batch. He leered at me, and for once I was so glad he couldn’t recognize—

“Well hey, Miss Banyon. Lisa told me, but I just had to see for myself!”

I blushed furiously. He was the coffee boy, the office gopher, and now—

“Hey, look, Marcia, you have no reason to be embarrassed,” he said, chuckling as I turned even deeper red, watching as he read the letters on my halter. “You look just fine,” he said, laughing as he pulled my top up, exposing my full, bouncing boobs. “Just fine, Jiggles, he said.

To Be Continued