Love Dolls

the Sorcerer’s Daughter

part 1

(Transformation, magic, tg, mind-control, humiliation, domination, torture)

    This is a work of fiction. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it! Any attempt to re-create these events may be construed as a violation of local, state and physical laws. Anyone reading this younger than eighteen years old, please remove your eyes at your earliest inconvenience. Anyone wishing to repost this to any free story archive is encouraged to do so.


    As the CEO of the largest brokerage in a fair-sized city I’m in a position to “select” certain interns from the wannabes who come to work here. That was how I came to notice Lisa, a voluptuous raven-haired beauty in her early, just-ripe twenties. It was kind of the unwritten rule that I often took a personal hand—as well as other appendages—in the training of my female interns.

    That was why it came as such a surprise for me when she said “No” to me. She had only been working here a week, and her work had been meticulous and letter-perfect. I’d always been able to find some flaw in the work of a particularly desirable intern to insist on personally tutoring them. When I brought it up, she just said she’d already made plans for the night!

    It was an unusual experience, having a woman say “No” to me. I’ve kept myself in reasonable shape for a man my age, and even though it was twenty years since I’d played football in college, I didn’t really have much of a paunch on me, thanks to my regular walking and swimming regimen. At 6'1" and only a little sprinkling of salt in my dark brown hair in my mind I was still the athletic stud I was in college. Having more than six zeros in the smallest of my bank accounts hadn’t been repelling the ladies either.

    So I was more amused and curious when she said “No” to me, for the first time in over a decade. I told her, a bit condescendingly, that she must have misunderstood me, and that I was going to meet her that night to ‘discuss her future’ with the company. As she stood there looking at me, an odd, not-too-pleasant expression on her face, I couldn’t help thinking how much sweeter her smug little smile would look wrapped around my cock.

    That night, I drove up to where she lived, what had been a rather stately mansion when I was a kid, though now no doubt it had been divvied up into apartments. I walked up to the door, and was just reaching for the doorbell when the door opened on its own. My first impression was of a mile of cleavage, as was my second and third. The girl standing there was in a very abbreviated French maid’s outfit, with her massive boobs spilling out—way out—of a top that would be skimpy on a much less-endowed lady, like Dolly Parton.

    I was just wondering if I had the right address when Lisa and a well-dressed young man pushed past her on their way out. I was captivated by the way the maid’s tits moved after such a slight movement, and just barely caught the knowing smirk on Lisa’s face. I heard the man laugh, but figured in a place like this, why not? The blonde, barely-dressed maid said, in an husky voice that made my pants very uncomfortable, “Mr. Rosen will see you now.” She beckoned me in, in a wave of her arm that set up the most amazing secondary oscillations.

    I walked in, as she led the way. I could tell I might need to rethink my position with sweet little Lisa, the house had an understated opulence that indicated money—a lot of it…more than even I had, I realized.

    But mainly, I focused on the maid. Her skirt was short enough I could tell all she wore under it was her black fishnet pantyhose. Even from behind, I still could see her spectacular melons swaying to the beat as she walked down the hall. She led me to a room, and unfortunately walked down another hall away. I walked in to see a man who looked to be thirty at most, sitting on a plush chair with a small tables on either side; one holding four or five books, another holding a small glass of what looked like iced tea on a coaster.

    “So you’re Lisa’s boss,” he said. “Mark Banyon, class of ‘73.” He said it in an even tone, but I suddenly wanted to run the hell out of there. There was a look of such total comfort, of control on his face that I was somehow sure that I was in some danger—even though I couldn’t see anything that might be remotely harmful.

    “Ah, yes. I was hoping to give her a few pointers—some details from my experience—”

    “You wanted to fuck her. And to make her think her job depended on giving you a blowjob.” Now there was a trace of iron in his voice, cold implacable iron. “I know you keep pictures of your interns ‘servicing’ you in your bedroom safe, and that you’ve embezzled more than four million dollars from your more older and less vigilant customers.”

Police Woman Doll

    I was sweating up a storm now, wondering how the hell he could know all of that? I wondered if I should try to deal with him or just scram. I absently patted my car keys in my pocket—and my pants vanished. There was no Star Trek sparkling or special effects—they were suddenly not there anymore!

    I looked down to see that of all my clothes, all that was left was my boxer shorts and my undershirt. I blinked, and felt a sudden rustling over my body, and was wearing a matching set of lacy, frilly panties and see-through bra. I felt mortified at the way the bra cupped my breasts—even more than at the way my dick was straining against its pink silk tent.

    This can’t be happening!!! I don’t think I screamed it, but I was getting dizzy just trying to figure it out…it didn’t figure. This man was doing…magic? It couldn’t—but it did—

    “Messing with my daughter was definitely a mistake.” The man got up and walked over, grinning broadly as he looked me over. “You’re free to leave, of course,” he said, tossing over my car keys. Suddenly I could move my feet. “You might not want to, looking like…” he waved at me, laughing.

    I drew myself up with all the dignity a man in pink panties can and said “I’ll manage. There are men on the beach with bigger tits than these.” As he smiled, I knew I’d made a rather critical mistake.

    I felt the cups of the bra cutting into me chest before I felt the straps dig into my shoulders. I felt a surge of weight on my chest, and a sudden rippling feel as my bra burst, and felt my newly-grown tits rolling forward. I looked at the torn scraps of pink fluttering to the floor, struggling to understand—or even, just to believe…

    I reached up, feeling my newly-grown boobs swaying from side to side, up and down—all directions, really. I touched them, still hoping that they weren’t real, some sort of trick or—

    My extremely sensitive left nipple perked right up when I touched it. Mr. Rosen laughed out loud over it.

    I looked up at Mr. Rosen again. He had brown hair, longish, parted on the right. His brown eyes held equal amounts of mirth and malice as he stared back into mine. I was trying to figure which side of thirty he was really on when he said “The number you’re looking for is 387.”

    “The number…?” I repeated in a dry croak.

    “The number of years since I was born.,” he replied.

    I didn’t even think of laughing. He was as old as he said, he’d done…this to me…

    “Hello. My name is Steven Rosen. I’m a sorcerer.” He bowed. Then he reached over and twisted my right nipple. Hard!!

    I gasped and dropped to my knees. “It’s-it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rosen, sir,” I gasped, unprepared for the waves of agony that shot down my hypersensitive nipple.

    I realized that my legs were frozen in place again as he said “It’s nice to meet you, too, ‘Marcia.’ ”

    I started to retort my name was Mark, but nothing came out. He continued, “You can suck my dick now.”

    He said it so matter-of-factly, but I was just disgusted. A man’s dick? In my mouth?!?!? He stood there for a moment, and said “You will do it.”

    I felt my cheeks burning even brighter with shame. Sucking a man’s dick was just the lowest thing I could think of. I summoned up all my nerve and said “You’ll have to make me.”

    No sooner were the words out that I suddenly had a vision of his big bulging cock in my mouth. I knew, just knew that above all else, I needed his manhood, I needed to swallow his seed. I reached out for the growing bulge in his pants and suddenly my hands were handcuffed behind me. Desperate for his tool I lunged forward, and on the second try caught the flap of his zipper in my teeth. I pulled it down, and a huge hot salami hit me in my eye. I twisted my head around greedily as he stepped back.

    I tried eagerly, but me feet were still rooted in place. “There’s a small problem, Marcia,” he said, as I saw his huge member, a good fifteen inches long, hanging in the air in front of me.

    “What?!?” I cried out. “Please, please, let me love your cock. I need it,” I begged, putting all the pleading and supplication I was capable of in my voice. I was panting, and I was distantly aware that I was even drooling, but I simply needed to get his big hard heavenly dick into my mouth.

    “Well, the thing is,” he said, smiling like a Cheshire cat, “Is I have certain…standards. You met Betty on the way in, you see. I’m only used to having my dick serviced by ladies with rather more on top than you have.”

    I was crushed!! I was being denied because these paltry little titties on my chest weren’t big enough for him—when I suddenly smiled.

    “Mr. Rosen, sir,” I said, as sweetly as I could. “With your…powers, you could fix up this little problem with my chest. You could make me as big and as buxom as Betty.” I was trembling at this point, but barely noticed how my quadruple-D tits bobbed and swayed.

    He looked down at me, in every sense of the word. “You really, really want me to make your tits bigger?”

    “Yes!! Oh, yes, yes, please make them bigger! Enormous!! Gigantic!!!” I screamed as I felt a wave of weight roll off my chest, only to be redoubled and tripled as my knockers surged out. He smiled, and reached down to push them aside as he walked up and poked his huge meat into my waiting mouth. It was as big around as a can of vegetables, and it took all my straining and tongue gymnastics to force the head and maybe one more delicious inch into my mouth. There was still way more than a foot of Rosencock sticking out, and as he started pushing it deeper and deeper into my mouth I realized it didn’t matter if he suffocated me, that there was nothing better in the world than holding his dear sweet massive dick in my mouth.

    He came, and I swallowed as much as I could, maybe a half a quart. Most of the rest dribbled down my face. He pulled back, and favored me with another gushing stream that coated my face and left my hair matted down. I was greedily licking up all my darting tongue could get when suddenly it hit me—I was licking jism!!

    I gasped, and looked up at him as he forced his monster tool back into his trousers. “You really shouldn’t try so hard to do things the hard way,” he said.

    As he walked back to his chair, he said “There’s a bathroom down the hall to your left. Keys are there.” He certainly enjoyed the sight of me struggling to my feet with two way-overgrown tits hanging from my chest, my face and hair matted with his cum. When I finally struggled to my feet, I was almost knocked down again by the surging roll and bounce of my boobs.

    “Um, Mr. Rosen—” I started to say when he cut me off.

    “160 TTT. Kind of fitting, don’t you think, Marcia?”

    I didn’t see how I could get around with those flesh mountains hanging on me, and I decided to try asking him to just reduce them to there former, merely huge size. I took a breath and said “Mr. Rosen, sir?”

    He looked up. “What is it now?”

    I realized he wasn’t going to be too cooperative, but again my legs didn’t move. He smiled, and I found myself saying “Having a dick in these tight panties is just a little bit uncomfortable. Could you please maybe change it into a tight little pussy, please, sir?”

    He waved me off as I felt a crawling, pulling sensation down there. I somehow managed to get out, after scratching myself up good trying to side my boobs through the door. After struggling to the bathroom, I found that indeed there was only a little slit under my panties. At least the scratches were already fading.

    Unlocking the handcuffs, I tried to stretch my arms to get the kinks out, but the smallest movement set up waves of rolling in my boobs. Peeling off my pants, I wasn’t surprised to find just a tiny tuft of soft, downy blonde hair atop my new cunt.

    I looked at the freak in the mirror: myself, with two enormous boobs dangling from my chest, firm, supple, capped with nipples bigger than a lot of girl’s whole tits…I still had the same face, the same frame…only, now, somehow, that sorcerer had made me female.

    In the shower, I was trying to get used to how my tits kept pressing against the tiles. In any other situation I would be fondling them—well, I was fondling them—but only to wash the sperm off, I said sharply to myself, as I suddenly moaned and collapsed, writhing in the sheer intolerable ecstasy of a female orgasm. It felt so good, so wonderful I almost didn’t mind noticing that my body hair was going down the drain.

    Crawling out of the shower, I used the counter edge to haul myself up and start drying myself off. I vaguely noticed my sodden panties were gone. After hanging up the towels—just drying my boobs had wet one completely—I turned to find some clothes on the formerly bare counter.

    A white G-string, with red lacy rosebuds over the panel, not quite an inch wide, that was to go over my pussy. I wasn’t prepared for the way it rode up in back—and the way it rode up in front made me yelp. I almost fell from the sloshing in my boobs as I jerked it out, and tried to position my G-string as delicately as possible. I had to admit it looked cute, crowned with a puff of fine blonde hair.

    That left…two bright pink tassels, four inches long—which I realized wasn’t even the diameter of my bright pink nipples. It felt like ice when I dabbed on some adhesive creme from the waiting tube and fixed my tassels in place. I padded out, barefoot, and found myself automatically sashaying down to the room where I’d been so thoroughly unmanned, humiliated and…used.

    I blushed all the way down to my far-off nipples, realizing what was in store. He’d used me, and he was going to use me again. As often as he liked, and any way he—I tried to choke off that thought as I pulled my boobs together to get in the doorway without scraping.

    As I walked into the room I decided I’d have to tough it out, somehow…this sorcerer had changed me, and I would have to somehow convince him to change me back. I didn’t want to think about if he couldn’t…or wouldn’t.

    Betty was there, holding a silver tray. On it was a large black dildo, fully a foot long and two and a half inches thick. I took it, looking a bit unsteadily at the ballsack hanging from it like two oranges. “Put it in your mouth,” Betty whispered to me in a low, urgent voice. I did so, gingerly—and suddenly I rammed it in as had as I could, back against the back of my mouth. I instinctively tried to spit it out, but felt my lips stretching painfully as I tried. Looking into the polished silver of the tray, I saw my lips had grown into the dildo. It was now a part of me.

    Rosen waved me forward, and I walked rather unsteadily over to his chair. “Well, now, Marcia,” he said. “We have just a little problem.”

    I would have gasped if I still had a mouth. He continued, “Now that we’ve…been introduced, it’s time for me to decide what your punishment should be for trying to violate my daughter.

    I know you’re a telepath, at the very least, I thought as hard as I could. I promise, I promise, I beg you, I’ll never, ever, ever—

    “No, you never, ever, ever will,” he said. “Now, I think you should dance while I consider your punishment.”

Big Joe Doll

    I gave it my honest, most determined shot, moving and swaying as much as I could without letting the rolling momentum of my boobs swing me to the ground. Rosen and Betty watched, she sitting in his lap, making up names for the ungraceful, frankly uncoordinated way I was dancing. He’d ask her just what dance was that slut doing, and Betty would make up names like the ‘Drunken Stork’ and the ‘Horny Hatrack.’

    Finally, he’d had enough. As he got up, he instructed me to obey Betty completely that night. I turned to look at her, and at her widening grin.

To Be Continued

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    Copyright © 1999 Andy Maynard

    Last Updated: April 17, 2003

    Created: May 1, 1999

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