Witch Switch

by Alyson Belle

  Both of the women stared at me, and I blushed. I hadn’t intended to trash Madame Orlando so hard directly in front of her, but come on! This was ridiculous.

  “It appears your friend needs a demonstration of his own,” Madame Orlando intoned.

  “Max,” Chelsea hissed. “You’re being rude. Stop it.”

  “No, go ahead,” I said, crossing my arms beneath the under-filled cups of my tight corset. “Give me your best shot. What’s your cold read on me?” If she was going to insist on this silly farce, I wanted to see how she dealt with a solid wall of discerning skepticism.

  Madame Orlando gathered her cards up again and straightened in her chair, shuffling the deck. A cool breeze whipped through the interior of the tent as she began to lay the cards on the table, causing the candles to flicker and a few hairs to stand up on the back of my neck. I shivered, wishing I had thought to wear a shawl.

  She studied the dealt cards for a moment, pursing her lips, and then fixed me with her amber gaze and spoke in a formal, serious tone. “As I said earlier, you are both less and more than the woman you pretend to be. You are torn between conflicting desires, hidden even unto yourself, but ultimately your destiny is in your own hands. Tonight you will have the chance to dive deep into a sea of possibilities, but what emerges from that is up to you.” She raised an eyebrow and peered at me curiously, awaiting a response.

  “Really?” I asked. “That’s my fortune? Talk about cryptic.” I huffed and turned to Chelsea. “It’s just nonsense. It doesn’t mean anything. She’s digging for a response, but it means nothing to me.”

  Madame Orlando’s brows drew down. “I do not make the tides of fortune dance. I simply read what is written for anyone with the proper skill to see. Your destiny, apparently, is your own, so why don’t you draw your next card?”

  She held the remainder of the deck out to me across the table and fanned the cards between her hands, encouraging me to choose one.

  “You think I’ll be more persuaded by this if I pick the card?”

  Madame Orlando shrugged. “The next card is your destiny. It reveals your true desire.”

  I sighed and pulled one out. Again the candles flickered. I turned it over. A beautiful, blue-robed woman in royal dress sat on a throne, with the moon and ocean behind her.

  “The Priestess,” Madame Orlando murmured. “An interesting choice, on this most magical of nights. Go, then.”

  “Wait, that’s it?” I asked. “You aren’t going to tell me what it means?”

  She shrugged and smirked at me. “There is nothing more to tell you. The choice was yours. Besides, it’s all mumbo jumbo, right? You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

  “This is dumb,” I muttered. “Come on Chelsea. We can find somewhere else to hide and get drunk.” Before she could respond, I stood up and marched out of tent, not even bothering to return the card.

  “Max, wait!” Chelsea called, scrambling after me. “Thanks and sorry, Madame Orlando! Appreciate it!”

  But I was already through the tent flap.

  Chapter 3

  I stood in the cold air outside the tent, momentarily disoriented. It felt colder outside than it had before, and goosebumps sprang out across my flesh as I shivered in my revealing costume. My head felt funny suddenly, like I’d had a little too much to drink, and I swayed on my heels. Hadn’t I been holding that tarot card a moment ago? But my hands were empty now. Even my clothes felt weird, tighter in some places but more comfortable in others. I’d barely touched the drink Kyle had given me. Did someone slip something into it? But who would wanna roofie me? I didn’t look that much like a girl, as Madame Orlando had humiliatingly pointed out.

  Chelsea popped out beside me and slapped me on the shoulder, squinting at me in the shadowy darkness of the back yard. “Damn it, Maxine! That was so rude. I can’t believe you treated her like that. You know what? You can babysit yourself for a while. I, for one, am going to go try to find this guy I’m destined to hook up with. Work on your manners, maybe.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, but she was already stalking off, headed back for the party. I sighed, my shoulders slumping. She looked taller than usual for some reason, and I wondered if it was because the combat boots added some height or she just stood up straighter when she was pissed. And why did she call me “Maxine”?

  My tummy gurgled, and the weird feelings swept over me again. I was definitely a little bit out of it. My head felt sort of hazy and indistinct, and everything began to take on kind of a dreamlike quality. I made my way inside, ignoring people’s curious stares, and headed for Kyle’s bathroom. I closed the door behind me and locked it before rushing over to the sink. I wanted to splash some cold water on my face, but I also didn’t want to ruin Chelsea’s makeup job. Instead I just kind of hovered there, staring down at my breasts and wondering why I felt so strange.

  Wait a minute… my breasts? When did I get breasts?

  I glanced up at the mirror, confused, and then let out a startled squeak. I was wearing the same outfit I’d shown up in, with the same long black hair and vaguely similar coloring, but I was definitely not the same person I’d walked into the party as. Before I’d looked pretty good in the makeup Chelsea had applied, with a decently convincing wig, but I’d still had fairly male features. Now, I looked like an absolutely gorgeous natural-born woman: warm, soft brown eyes, a cute up-turned nose, full, utterly kissable lips, and a pretty, rounded face. My mouth hung open in shock, and it just made me look cute and ditzy. But it didn’t stop at my face—my whole body had been reconfigured. I was a solid few inches shorter and now had no problem filling out the cups of my corset, which accented my ample hips for a perfect hourglass shape. A pair of voluptuous breasts—my breasts—practically spilled out of the top of it, and shining black hair that definitely wasn’t a wig flowed down over my shoulders.

  “What the fuck?” I exclaimed, and then squeaked again, clapping my hands to mouth. My voice wasn’t my voice anymore. I even sounded like a chick. This was unbelievable. Still not quite sure what to think, I lowered my hands and gave my breasts a curious squeeze through the corset. My eyes snapped open wide and I moaned. God that feels good! Is that what touching your own breasts feels like for girls?

  I was fucking hot as any cam girl I’d ever seen online. It was making me horny and wiggly just staring at myself in the mirror, and I waited for the familiar feeling of the straining of my tuck to stretch my panties beneath my skirt. But it didn’t come. Instead I just felt… wet. Really wet. My eyes widened again in realization, and I jammed two fingers into my panties. There was no cock down there. Just a very wet, very soft slit, surrounded by a small patch of silky, downy hair.

  Had that gypsy done this to me? She must have been a witch, I realized, a blush spreading across my face. And I trashed her magic right to her face. Well, she sure showed me. It was pretty hard to argue with magic while I was fingering my own, brand new pussy in Kyle’s bathroom!

  Speaking of fingering my pussy, those questing fingers had started to feel really good. Between how hot I looked in the mirror and all the new ways I was touching myself, I could tell I’d gotten this body all hot and bothered. It was like having blue balls, except worse, because my whole body ached with a need to have more attention paid to my pussy. I gasped at how badly I suddenly wanted to have something to fill that aching need, unsure if this was just how it was for horny girls or if it was part of the spell. This was all weird, but I wasn’t going to fight the sensations—how often would I get this chance?

  I unzipped my miniskirt and dropped it to the ground, kicking it away, and then I hopped up on the counter, putting my back against the mirror and spreading my knees wide. I slid down until my new pussy was right at the edge, the perfect way to reach it, and shoved the crotch of my panties aside to continue furiously stroking my new sex. I moaned louder and rolled my shoulders against the mirror. The thrumming rhythm of my fingers felt delicious against my moistened folds, but it almost made my need worse. The
space between my legs ached for something to fill it, and I instinctively ground my hips against my hand, dying for more attention.

  I slipped two fingers inside of myself and buried them up to the knuckle, working furiously and rubbing the base of my palm against my clit. My nipples were so hard I could see them through the fabric of the corset, and my juices were getting over everything—my hand, the counter, my legs. The scent drove me wild and I whined, hooking my fingers up to try to reach my g-spot, but my delicate, girly fingers were too infuriatingly short to please myself properly. My need was palpable now, and my eyes darted around the bathroom looking for something—anything—I could use to satiate that need.

  “Hey, is this occupied?” Someone pounded on the door, but I ignored them, too lost in my own needs to bother even giving a reply.

  An old, wood-handled plunger sat next to the toilet, the only thing in sight that would remotely give me the girth and length my body was dying for. I eyed it, considering. Was I really that hard up? I tensed my thighs, the floor of my pussy shaking with need as I continued to finger it as best I could, and gave it another long, appraising look. Maybe I was.

  The banging came again, and this time the door burst open, the old push-lock clicking free from the jostling. Mitch stepped inside, took one look at me fingering myself on the counter, and dropped his mouth open in surprise.

  “Whoa, whoa, sorry! I didn’t know someone was in here.” He held his hands up apologetically and started half-heartedly backing out, but he clearly couldn’t stop staring at what I was doing. My own eyes locked on the impressive bulge at the crotch of his faded, dirty, construction worker overalls. Yeah, and he has a massive cock, too, Chelsea had said.

  “No, stop,” I choked out, my voice dripping with feminine anticipation. “Come here, big guy. I need a hand with this.”

  I didn’t have to tell him twice. He slammed the door shut behind him, locked it with a click, and dropped his overalls to the floor with a few quick motions. It turned out that he hadn’t been wearing anything underneath, and his rock hard cock stood out in the air, waving proudly in front of him.

  He grinned at the way my eyes widened, and a mewling growl of need escaped my throat, my fingers flicking faster and faster.

  “How can I be of service ma’am?” he asked.

  Chapter 4

  Mitch approached me with a look of utter appreciation, and I didn’t have to tell him what I needed with words—my pleading eyes told the whole story. As he drew near, his eyes flicked up and down my body and registered surprise.

  “What?” I gasped, still not able to take my eyes off his throbbing cock.

  He shook his head. “Nothing… I saw that outfit you’re wearing on another… erm, girl, earlier tonight. Guess it’s popular. What did you say your name was?”

  “No names. Shut up. Kiss me.” I didn’t want him to ask questions or over-think this. Hell, I didn’t want to over-think this either, or else I might start doubting myself, but there was nothing I wanted more than Mitch inside of me, right now. My body was aching for it, and another tremor of need ran through me, lifting the downy hairs at the nape of my neck.

  Mitch stepped closer with a throaty growl and ran warm hands around my ass on either side. His skin was rough and manly, but it felt amazing against my hairless flanks, and when he squeezed hard I cooed and tensed my muscles against him. His smell wafted toward me, aftershave and deodorant, clean and manly, and I inhaled deeply, my chest swelling with the breath. He leaned in to kiss me. My head dropped back as our lips met, his mouth hungry and wet and needy, exploring my depths. His hand gently brushed my fingers aside, letting my panties fall back into place over my sex, and ran a few exploratory sweeps up the lacy fabric at my crotch, teasing me and making me squirm for more.

  As I drew a series of deep, ragged breaths, his questing mouth moved to the side of my face, showering me with kisses and moving down to my neck, where he gently nipped and sucked at me. Wherever his teeth made contact, my body froze and relaxed, like a powerful predator had me in its teeth—but I didn’t feel afraid. I just felt wanted. Taken. Claimed as his. It was a warm, happy feeling that radiated through me and made me wiggle with pleasure and need.

  “Ohhh, that feels so good,” I moaned.

  Mitch hooked his thumbs beneath the edges of my panties and continued to kiss my neck. “Is this okay?” he whispered hoarsely, tugging them down a few inches and toying them back and forth on my thighs.

  I nodded eagerly. “Mmmhmm—ohhh…” My agreement stretched into an appreciative cooing sigh as he tugged them down the rest of the way and slid them over my feet, before tossing them aside. Next he pulled me forward and reached behind me to undo the hooks on my corset. Thankfully there were no ties, and that slid off easily too, over my arms. It joined my panties in the rapidly growing pile of discarded clothing near the door. I kicked off my shoes and he peeled my stockings off one by one, and then I was as bare as the day I was born… even though I had a significantly different configuration of parts now.

  My breasts bounced freely on my chest, perky and full, as I ground my hips against the counter and slid my hands around his neck, and we grinned at each other like idiots as we swayed naked in the bathroom there together. I felt so good, pushed up against him, skin on skin like that, and I wanted him even worse than before. I smiled and giggled at him coyly, the teasing coming naturally to my newly female body.

  “Yeah,” he said, pushing his forehead against mine. “I can see that you want it, baby. But what are you going to do to earn it?”

  He disentangled himself from me and stepped back, hands on his hips, dick waving in the air in front of him. I cocked my head at him, confused, but then I realized what he was waiting for. Oh, what the hell. I’m a girl now, right? Why not?

  I pushed off the counter and dropped to my knees on the cold linoleum floor. Sliding my hands around the back of his legs, I moved my lips to about an inch away from his impressive cock. “Is this how you want me to earn it?” I asked, letting the hot breath of my words come out directly onto the tip of his deck.

  Mitch groaned and dropped his head back, urging his swollen member toward me, and I opened my lips and slid them as far down the length of his cock as I could. I was careful to wrap my lips around my teeth since I knew firsthand how painful a nick would be! The feeling of his soft flesh sliding over my tongue delighted me—another apparent feature of the witch’s spell—and I bobbed my face back and forward, rolling my tongue against him greedily. I felt his hands slide through my silky black hair and grab tight against the back of my head as he bucked his hips, thrusting into me, and I managed to keep my gag reflex suppressed as I took his full length again and again.

  “Fuck, fuck, you are so good at that…” he murmured. “You’re a motherfucking cock-sucking queen.”

  I blushed hard. Apparently I was a natural.

  Mitch’s thrusts had sped up and grown more urgent, and I started getting worried he might be liking this a little too much. I was still desperately horny, and it wouldn’t be good if he came in my mouth before giving my pussy some badly needed attention.

  I pulled back hard and he slid out of me with a wet plop sound.

  “Don’t get too excited before the main event,” I warned him.

  His eyes sparkled. “Oh, that’s right. You want some attention too, huh baby? Come here…”

  He pulled me up to my feet, tits bouncing with the motion, and gently shoved me toward the bathtub. “Get in.”

  “You want to take a shower?” I asked. I wasn’t sure about that, since it wasn’t even our bathroom, but Mitch shook his head.

  “Bend over. Grab your ankles.”

  I shivered with anticipation, wondering what he had in store for me, but did as he asked. My body was easily flexible enough, and with my hands wrapped around my ankles, my ass and pussy were exposed to the open air. I could smell my own juices and feel them running down my thighs, and I moaned and swayed my ass from side to side. We had gone too
long without any attention to it, and both my tits and pussy ached to have his hands slide over them. But Mitch’s hands didn’t approach. Instead, I watched through my legs as he detached the shower head and brought it down near my ass. It was one of those adaptable heads that unhooked into a long, handheld hose, and it had adjustable pressure settings you could change by twisting the ring around the head in either direction.

  “Face forward,” Mitch ordered. “I don’t wanna ruin that pretty makeup for when I fuck you later. But I think you have a dirty pussy. I can tell just by looking at you. Girls like you… they always have dirty pussies. Am I right?”

  He started sliding the silver back of the shower head back and forth between my legs, rubbing it against my sopping wet sex, and I blushed harder and wiggled against it, biting my lip.

  Mitch wanted to talk dirty, huh? I could talk dirty.

  “Mmhmm,” I said. “My pussy is so dirty, daddy. Won’t you help me clean it?”

  “What did you call me?” He paused, the stroking of the shower head stopping with him, and for a second I was afraid I’d made a mistake. But then growled with laughter and spoke again. “Such a dirty, slutty little girl. You really do need to be cleaned.”

  “Oh, yes, daddy. Clean me. Clean me up, please!”

  I relaxed and pushed back harder against the cool metal, rubbing my pussy against the only thing available. Mitch flipped it over and I gasped as my sex made contact with the rough ridges and bumps that dotted the front side of it. It was like they’d been designed to stroke my clit in all the right ways, and I ground harder against the head of it. I couldn’t believe how hot this was! But it was about to get even hotter.

  Mitch reached over to the shower handle and pulled it out, causing a lukewarm jet of water to spray out and make contact with my vagina at full blast. The sudden, intense pressure of a tightly directed water stream blasting into me surprised me so much that I nearly fell over! But then the pleasure hit me like a truck, and my knees went weak as I struggled to keep my footing. The showerhead kept a steady gush massaging my most intimate places, and Mitch began to gently move it back and forth again, cleaning me out and giving me the most intense, most amazing massage I’d ever had in my life. My nipples were so hard they could cut glass, and the muscles in my crotch and thighs tensed and untensed in rapid cycles as a new, different source of pressure began to build in my crotch.