Chapter 3: The Inflation Spell
I hauled myself up onto the edge of my bed, legs still trembling. My belly sat on my lap like a warm, heavy stone, stretched tight and sloshing with every breath. Victor watched me from the middle of the pentagram, his cock still glistening wet, already half-hard again as if the thought of more was enough to stir him.
"Still hungry," I murmured, pressing a hand to my swollen stomach.
He didn't answer. He just stood there, patient, a monster stitched together from old magic and old flesh, waiting for whatever I wanted next. I wanted a lot. My thighs were slick. My nipples ached against the wet lace. And that energy he'd mentioned, that building hum in the air, it had started to prickle along my skin like static before a storm.
I stared at his balls, heavy and low, each one roughly the size of an apple. Then I looked down at my own chest, small and neat inside the cups of my bra, a solid B.
A grin spread across my face.
"Victor," I said, sliding off the bed. "Hold still for me."
He went statue still, no question. That obedience sent a little thrill through me. I knelt in front of him again, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin, and pressed both palms against the underside of his sack. The flesh was smooth, warm, packed tight with something thick and heavy.
"Let's make these worth my time," I breathed.
The incantation hummed on my tongue, old words from the same grimoire that had given me his shape. Magic crackled through my palms like liquid lightning. His balls swelled under my hands, hot and heavy, forcing my fingers to spread, then stretch, until my hands couldn't cup even one of them anymore. They dropped lower now, thick and weighted, each one ballooning until it was the size of my entire breast. Maybe bigger.
I made a low noise in my throat just looking at them.
"Fucking hell," I whispered.
Victor's cock twitched, curving up proud and thick, responding to the weight of those enormous balls. My mouth watered. But I wasn't done yet. I pushed up to my feet, swaying a little as my cum-heavy belly shifted, and ran my hands over my own tits through the lace.
"If you get bigger," I told him, "then so do I."
The second spell came easier. I'd been practicing. My chest grew warm, then hot, the lace straining as my breasts swelled in my hands. They rose and filled, pressing up against the fabric until the cups weren't enough to hold them. Double-D, at least. Maybe more. The wire dug into my skin, but I didn't care. I flicked the clasp open and let the bra fall away.
My tits dropped free, heavy and full, tan lines from none of that, I'd never had to worry about a tan line here. I weighed them with my own hands, squeezing until I felt the pinch and thrill of it.
"How do I look?" I asked him.
His jaw worked under that stitched gray skin.
"Fit to serve a queen," he said.
"Wrong." I stepped closer and pressed my chest against his belly. "Fit to be the queen giving orders."
He made a sound low in his chest, something almost like a growl. His cock pressed hot against my stomach, enormous, twitching, already beginning to swell again the way it had before, responding to the arcane stitching in his skin. That raw, pulsing energy I could feel through my hands and my tits and every inch of my skin.
But if I was going to take him to the root, I needed one more thing.
I pulled back, caught his dark eyes, and started the third spell.
My skin went fluid. That was the only way I could describe it. The spell washed down my body like silk over water, and suddenly I could feel myself differently. My throat loosened. My stomach eased its tight swollen weight into something pliable and deep. My cunt, still sore from nothing, suddenly felt hungry.
"I'm ready for you now," I said, and let my tongue trail across my lips.
Victor's cock pulsed in the air between us.