Chapter 4: The Witch's Submission
The hypnotic pulse throbbed from my cock up through Esmeralda’s arm, a wave of pure, carnal authority that melted the ancient defiance in her black eyes into dazed, liquid submission. “You sought a vessel,” I growled, pulling her closer by her frail wrist until the swollen head of my shaft pressed against the rough wool of her shawls, leaving a dark, wet stain, “but you poured your poison into a cauldron that learned how to boil.” Her knees gave way completely, and she sank before me, a puppet with her strings cut, her parchment skin seeming to drink in the room’s perverse light as my power rewrote her script from the inside out. I looked down at the ageless witch now kneeling in servitude, and a grin spread across my face—not Tracy’s hesitant smile, but the fierce, hungry expression of a predator who had just turned the huntress into her next meal. “Now,” I said, my voice a low command that vibrated through the velvet air, “let’s see what happens when the student permanently enrolls the teacher.”
The pulse from my cock wasn’t just a suggestion now; it was a command, thrumming up her arm and unraveling centuries of cunning like old yarn. Her sharp, knowing eyes glazed over, their deep black shimmer fading to a soft, confused brown. “What’s… happening?” Esmeralda slurred, her voice already losing its gravitas, becoming lighter, younger. A gasp escaped her as her own body betrayed her. The parchment texture of her skin smoothed under my gaze, as if an invisible hand was ironing out the ages, leaving behind plump, creamy youth. Her back straightened, her posture shifting from a wary hunch to an arched, attention-seeking pose.
“You’re getting a makeover, grandma,” I said, my fingers tightening on her wrist. “A permanent one.”
I released her and took a step back, letting the full force of the transformation magic radiating from me wash over her kneeling form. She moaned, a sound of vacant pleasure, as her body began to swell in the places I willed it. The bulky shawls and scarves strained, then tore at the seams as her tits ballooned outward, not like the twins’ spherical implants, but as vast, natural-looking mounds of fat and gland that spilled from her chest with absurd weight. They jutted forward, heavy and low, their pink areolas widening, nipples hardening into thick pebbles. Her ass followed, inflating from nothing into two immense, jiggling hemispheres that stretched the fabric of her skirt to a transparent sheen before it ripped completely.
She fell forward onto her hands and knees, the movement instinctive and vulgar, her new assets swaying ponderously. “Ooooh, I feel so… heavy,” she giggled, the last remnants of her intelligence evaporating from her tone. “So full. Need something to fill me up more.” She looked back at me over her shoulder, her expression one of dumb, pleading hunger. Her face was now that of a stunning, empty-eyed twenty-year-old, framed by lustrous grey hair that was rapidly bleaching to a shiny platinum blonde.
“You’ll get your fill,” I promised, moving behind her. The sight of her transformed body, this ancient power rendered into a dumb, waiting vessel, sent a surge of possessive heat straight to my groin. My cock leaped, fully engorged and dripping a steady stream of precum that spattered onto the velvet rug. I ran the leaking head through the wet cleft of her newly-formed pussy, which was already glistening with eager arousal. “This clever cunt crafted spells for centuries. Now its only purpose is to take my load and swell.”
“Yes! Swell me!” she babbled, pushing her massive ass back against me. “Make me the biggest! I wanna be a mommy! Lots and lots of mommies!”
I didn’t need further invitation. I gripped the colossal cheeks of her ass, spreading them, and drove my cock into her with one brutal, shearing thrust. Her inner walls were impossibly tight, yet slick, clenching around me with a desperate, welcome rhythm. She screamed, a high, girlish sound that echoed in the mirrored room.
“Who do you belong to?” I grunted, setting a deep, punishing pace immediately. Each withdrawal and plunge was a claim staked.
“You! I belong to you!” she wailed, her voice trembling with each impact.
“And what are you?”
“Your bimbo! Your dumb, breedable bimbo!”
“Damn right.”
The first climax built fast, a turbulent pressure in my balls. I fucked her harder, the wet slap of our joining flesh a violent percussion. When I came, it was with a roar, my hips grinding deep as the first torrent of thick, magical seed erupted directly into her waiting womb. The effect was instantaneous.
Her flat, toned belly quivered and then rounded, pushing out into a firm, pregnant dome right before my eyes. “Oh, fuck, I see it!” I hissed, my cock still jerking inside her, pumping more. The dome distended further, smooth and tight, the size of a cantaloupe, then a beach ball. It was just the first.
I pulled out, my shaft slick and glistening. She whimpered at the loss. “Again,” I commanded, and she nodded dumbly, her hands going to the new, heavy curve of her stomach. “Need more babies in me. So many more.”
I re-entered her with less ceremony, just a brutal impalement. The second breeding was quicker, my body primed and eager to deposit its transformative burden. The orgasm was a sharp, punching release. Another gallon of cum flooded her, and her pregnant belly surged outward again, the skin stretching audibly, becoming a vast, taut sphere that began to strain the skin of her lower back. Her tits rested on the upper slope of the mound.
I lost count after the fifth time. The room became a haze of sweat, the scent of sex and ozone, and the constant, wet sounds of relentless fucking. I took her from behind, on her side, with her mountainous belly draped over pillows. Each explosive climax injected another clutch of magical pregnancies into her hyper-fertile womb. Her belly was no longer just growing; it was compounding.
By the tenth deposit, it was a colossal, veined boulder that forced her onto her back, her legs splayed wide by its impossible girth. She could only mewl and gasp, her hands pawing at the monolithic curve. “So… heavy… so good…” she slurred.
I climbed over her, the sheer mass of her stomach rising between us like a hill. I shoved my cock into her soaked, stretched opening, which clung to me with a sloppy, desperate heat. I fucked her through the 15th, the 16th, the 17th release. Each surge of cum made the monumental belly quiver and expand in minute, perceptible increments, the skin becoming translucent, a network of blue veins mapping the pressure beneath. It rose above both of us, a pale planet.
On the 21st climax, I was draped over the summit of her stomach, my body shuddering as I emptied a final, seemingly endless torrent into her depths. Her belly gave one last, seismic heave, expanding to its ultimate, terrifying proportion. She looked like she’d swallowed a car, a smooth, gigantic orb that pinned her to the bed, her massive tits flattened at its sides. Her eyes were completely vacant, a dribble of drool on her chin. Her pussy was a ruined, leaking ooze between her legs, perpetually gaping.
I collapsed beside her, spent. The hunger was finally, truly quieted, replaced by a satiated, dominant peace. I ran a hand over the hot, drum-tight skin of her stomach, feeling the frantic, multiplied movement within. Not just twenty. Dozens. A legion of new life, all mine.
She turned her head, a laborious movement. “Thank you, Mommy,” the former witch whispered, her voice a hollow, happy echo.
I looked at the mirrored ceiling, at our reflection: a muscular, possessed woman and the bloated, eternally pregnant bimbo she had created from a goddess. The motel was mine now. Everything was.