Sex and Demons - Love Spells and Ethical Summoning

Chapter 1

“Dad!”

As quickly as James could look up from the English muffin he was buttering at the kitchen table, his nineteen-year-old daughter Laurel rushed to hug him.

“Good to see you, sweetheart!” He said, hugging her back.

“Okay, look!” She said, standing upright. She offered him her left wrist to show him her new tattoo: a three-leafed clover. “It’s enchanted to help protect me,” she said. The design had clearly been chosen as a tribute to her mother, who had been named Clover.

“And then there’s this!” She said, setting her bare right foot on the table to show him another tattoo. This one was an ink anklet of flowers and vines, similar in design to the tattoo shared by her mother and grandmother. “It’s enchanted too, but, um, it’s kind of complicated.”

She took her foot off the table. “And finally ... there’s this!” She stood up straight and gestured at her exposed belly and her new navel piercing, hosting a dangling bit of eye-catching metal. “That’s not enchanted or anything - I just thought it was cute.”

This was the daughter that James remembered - the bright, excitable girl full of wonder. But while she’d always been pretty, now she was breathtakingly beautiful. It threw him for a loop - it would have done the same to anyone, to be in a room with someone so attractive. This was his daughter, but he’d never seen her like this before.

The difference was due to magic, he knew. She was wearing a glamour: a spell to enhance her appearance. “Magical makeup” is how it was usually described. Usually, the effect was subtle. He’d never known it could create so dramatic a change.

The way she was dressed was uncharacteristic of her, too. He’d always been secretly glad that she had been a T-shirt and shorts girl in the past. Now, apparently, it was miniskirts and crop tops. Now she was showing cleavage that was difficult to ignore.

James had expected his children to grow as people after leaving for college, obviously, and he had even encouraged Laurel to develop her sexual confidence. But it was a shock to see how far she’d come.

“Your Internet kinda sucks here,” she remarked, walking to the counter and pouring a bowl of cereal.

James sighed. “Yeah. They’re doing infrastructure work. They say it’ll be back to normal in three or four days.” He raised a skeptical eyebrow as he said it.

“Is there a library or something nearby that I can work at?” She asked. “We’re so close to publishing the spermamancy paper, but I’ve still got a bunch of correspondence and editing.” She sat down at the table with her cereal. “I will be so glad when this is all over!” She said with a sigh.

“Why don’t you come to the office with me today?” James offered. “Plenty of space, fast Internet. I’m sure Eric and Janine would love to see you.”

“Okay, great!” She answered excitedly.

---

After a few minutes of introductions where Laurel was the center of attention, she got to work at a table in James’ private office. The paper she was working on was about a spell she had invented over the summer. She had taken a semester off from college, with his blessing, to develop it at the home of her mentor, Jennifer Armand. It was a remarkable achievement, and James took pleasure watching her, looking every bit like a grad student working on her thesis. On the few occasions when they shut the door so she could make calls, she seemed business-like and authoritative.

The rest of the time the door was open. A surprisingly high volume of people - mostly the engineering firm’s younger men - found excuses to pass by the door, slowly, and look her over. A few of them earned coy smiles in return, and as the day wore on, she seemed to find more and more reasons to visit the break room or stretch her legs in the hallway.

In the late afternoon, Laurel informed James that she was going out for coffee with Milo, but that she’d be home for dinner. Milo was probably around twenty-six - a bit older than James would have liked Laurel to date. He was the firm’s IT guy - well-mannered, conscientious, and competent - so the idea didn’t cause him too much discomfort. And frankly, he understood what a young woman would see in him: he had what you’d call classic jock good looks, hidden behind long hair and glasses.

---

Lattes after work went well, and as Milo had hoped, Laurel had been eager to come back to his apartment with him. He had swung for the fences when he asked her out: he figured there was no way that a girl that beautiful was single, but she said yes.

They hadn’t actually found much in common so far. She didn’t know a whole lot about computers or video games. He didn’t have much to say about her anecdotes about Montana wildlife. When it came to TV and movies they were hit and miss. And yet he found himself fascinated by her. For her part, she was a captivated listener, seeming to hang on to every detail that he told her about his hobbies.

“Ken - this is Laurel,” Milo told his roommate back at his apartment.

“Hey,” Ken said casually, although his eyes lingered a bit too long to fit his cool facade. “So are we doing some ranked play?” Ken asked, doubtful.

Laurel was quick to answer: “It’s okay - you can play. I’d like to see it!” He had told her about the competitive ladder he and his friends were climbing in the video game Overwatch, and she had said it sounded exciting.

Milo argued: “I can’t really play for just a match or two. If we start, it’s sort of a commitment to the guys for forty-five minutes or an hour.”

“That’s cool,” she persisted. “I want to see it. I want to understand why this game is so much fun for you.”

Milo winced. Playing Overwatch with his friends was fun, yes, but he’d had other hopes when Laurel came home with him. A lifetime of experience had taught him that video games were a poor way to put a woman in the mood. But it was what she said she wanted.

“We’ll still have time to hang out after,” she added. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but it sounded like she had just read his mind and agreed to his expectations.

“All right. I guess I’ll play from the couch,” Milo said.

“Roger,” Ken said. “I’ll be in my room getting the gang together.”

Shortly, Milo was sitting on the couch in front of his console with a headset on and a controller in his hands as the first match started. Laurel was sitting comfortably close to him, but not encroaching on his space enough to interfere with the controls.

“So you’ve got a sword but you can only use it at certain times?” Laurel asked after a few minutes of play and a particularly intense skirmish.

“Yeah - only when my ultimate meter is full, there at the bottom,” Milo answered.

“Who was that?” Asked Adam, one of their teammates, through the game’s voice channel.

“I’ve got a friend watching,” Milo informed them. “Say hi to the guys, Laurel.”

“Hi!”

“So what does she look like?” Adam persisted.

“Dude,” Milo cautioned.

Ken answered. “She’s a sexy-as-fuck redhead pixie. Probably a college girl.”

Milo gave Laurel an apologetic look, but she was already blushing and grinning.

“So is she going to suck your dick while you play?” Virgil, another teammate asked.

“DUDE!” Milo responded.

Laurel giggled. “Is that some gamer rite of passage?”

“Yes!” Virgil quickly replied.

“Yeah, kinda,” Ken voted.

Milo again apologized with his eyes. “Don’t listen to these guys.”

“I can do that!” Laurel swiftly offered. “If it wouldn’t be too much of a distraction.” When Milo looked at her with disbelief she added, “We were going to mess around anyway, right?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Before he knew it, she was on her knees in front of him, helping him out of his pants.

“I’m going to turn off my mic,” he told his team, lifting his hips to help her and then slouching at the edge of the couch.

“Holy shit! Really?” Virgil asked.

Undressing and getting in position was a huge distraction, but Adam had already effectively lost the game for them by stupidly over-extending, so Milo didn’t worry too much. Once Laurel took his cock into her mouth, though, he found a sort of tranquility. She was giving him a slow, easy suck that, surprisingly, didn’t take anything away from his tactical sense or reflexes.

The match ended. Milo set the controller down knowing he had a few minutes before the next one. He touched Laurel’s pretty red hair. She moved her head - back and forth, yes, but also side to side - while looking up at him with big blue innocent eyes. She made little sucking noises and massaged his tip with her tongue.

Ken’s bedroom door opened and he stepped out. “Yep - she’s giving him head,” he told the group before returning to his room.

The next match began unusually quickly. Laurel obviously had a keen grasp of blowjob pacing: she kept him feeling good without overwhelming him. If anything, it seemed to sharpen his mind: at that moment, Milo was the team’s all-star. He had to leave his mic muted, though, because he couldn’t stop moaning.

Some minutes later the match ended with a decisive win. Laurel glanced at the TV to verify, and then she changed her approach. Suddenly she was swallowing him all the way down, gulping and gagging, and then aggressively bobbing up and down over his whole length. His entire dick was slimy with her thick saliva, but that was obviously part of her plan. She teased his balls with her hand and looked into his eyes, this time with a vixen’s smile. It was intense and he felt stupid about his loud groans, but he was not the one in control.

The next match started and Laurel returned to her soft slow licking and sucking, but there was no going back. She had pumped up the pressure - the need - inside of him and now even her little puppy licks were nearly overwhelming. He played as well as he could but it was far from his best. The orgasm was hunting him and he knew it would soon overtake him. A few minutes into the match he completely lost his concentration and his character was knocked off a cliff. As he respawned he let loose and came, emptying his balls into Laurel’s mouth.

Laurel opened her mouth to show the semen pooling inside before swallowing and climbing back on the couch with him.

Suddenly he was razor-focused again. He turned his mic on and made call-outs and performed game-saving plays. During the brief moments when he didn’t need both hands on his controller, he would put his arm around her, touch her cheek or neck, or stroke her hair, and she would lean into his hand like a purring cat.

Before long, Laurel’s hand was on his saliva-sticky dick getting him hard again. Then she stopped, stood up, and looked around.

“Looking for the bathroom?” He asked her.

She shook her head. “No.”

She disappeared around the corner and came back with a towel that she put on the floor in front of him.

“What...?”

“You just keep playing,” she said sweetly. “I’ll take care of everything.”

She wasn’t blocking his view of the TV, but she was pretty hard to ignore as she removed her top. Her tits were perfect: perfect perky handfuls, just the right size to fill out a bikini, but even better uncovered. Her nipples were small and pink and stiff. Despite her slender body, she had a tiny waist with gorgeous curves. The glimmering jewelry in her navel drew his eyes to her flat tummy again and again. Below that her miniskirt hung onto her hips, but not for long. She unzipped it and let it slide down her legs, and then bent over as she pulled her thong down. Her pussy was a cute little glistening clamshell topped with a tiny strip of pubic hair, just a bit darker than the vibrant red hair on her head. If Milo hadn’t been completely hard before, he was now.

She got on her hands and knees in front of him over the towel, totally naked. She looked back at him and smiled. “Just relax.”

She backed up into him and with one hand guided his dick into her pussy. She was warm and wet and virgin-tight. His dick was suddenly very alive again - happy to be performing its duty once more. The jeweled base of a butt plug shimmered at him from between her cheeks. She began to rock slowly back and forth, her pussy giving his cock slow smooth friction.

His focus was imperfect. All he wanted to do was grab her hips and drive his cock deep into her to make her squeal. But he had to keep playing as best he could, both because of the commitment he’d made to his friends, and because Laurel seemed to want it that way. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint her. He played adequately but had no attention to spare for his teammates’ chatter. Any spare brainpower he had was devoted to watching Laurel’s cute little butt backing up onto his dick.

As soon as the match ended, Milo pushed Laurel forward, stood squatting behind and above her, and pumped downward into her vigorously. She was taken by surprise and moaned in yelps. Those quickly gave way to needful whimpers. She lowered her head and arms to the floor to better withstand his thrusts. He steadied himself with his hands on her tight ass. They moaned together urgently.

Ken’s door opened again. “Yep, they’re doing it doggy-style. Damn, that girl is fine! Can you guys hear this?” He stood there briefly letting his friends listen to Laurel’s obvious excitement before returning to his room.

Laurel began to come. Her legs shook and her butt plug bounced around while her tight pussy convulsed on Milo’s cock. He was close to coming too - he felt like he was boiling, ready to burst. Forty-five seconds later she was still coming when he unleashed a raw load deep in her pussy. He desperately hoped she was on the pill.

“Fuck!” Milo cried, falling back on the couch and panting. “Fuck!”

Laurel rose back onto her hands and knees and looked back at him with a sweet smile. “Do you want to keep going?”

The answer, Milo realized, was yes. He was still hard. His dick sort of ached, but it was eager - his whole body was eager - to keep fucking this girl. He had no idea how, but he wasn’t going to question it.

The next match began loading and he looked at Laurel uncertainly.

“Play your game,” she told him. “I’ll take care of everything.”

Once again he slouched with his iron cock hanging off the edge of the couch, and Laurel gave it sensual pussy love, gyrating her hips slowly. Now he could concentrate. Their bodies seemed to understand each other. He played the best game of his life, and then when the match ended, he got on his knees behind her and banged her for all he was worth. He made her squeal. He made her come. And he filled her pussy with yet another load. And he was still hard.

The cycle went on for two more matches: two more matches of Laurel grinding her naked body into him while he cut down his opponents on the TV screen, separated a break in which he joined her on the floor and pounded her pussy, and they came together.

Finally, Adam called an end to the gaming session.

This time, before Milo could move to his knees behind her, Laurel switched it up. This time she coupled with him with her shoulders on the ground, her feet on the couch, and her hips in the air. They both thrust into each other in unison. Her boobs jiggled and her navel jewelry danced. Her face was red from upside-down blood flow and she grunted while her pussy squeezed his ever-resilient cock almost angrily. He came with a climax that seemed to last a whole minute while come overflowed her pussy and joined the pool on the towel below.

Finally, he reached the end. He went soft and his body was sated.

“I have never been so mentally exhausted in my life,” he declared.

“Can we go to your room for cuddles for a while before I have to go?” She asked.

---

“Hey, Dad!” Laurel greeted her father as she came home. “Richard!” She said with delight seeing the other man in the living room with him.

She moved as if to hug the family friend - her former magic teacher - but then second-guessed herself and offered her hand. He was having none of that, and he embraced her like family. Their once strained relationship had been mended recently, with Jennifer’s help.

“So you and Milo hit it off?” James asked leadingly.

“Mmm-hmm!” She answered cheerfully. She didn’t seem eager to offer any details.

James stood up. “I’m going to go finish making dinner while you two catch up.” He left for the kitchen, and Laurel sat down in his place.

“So, tell me about your spermamancy progress,” Richard asked.

“Well, first of all, I understand that you’re the one who recommended me for Jennifer’s magic workshop. I really can’t thank you enough.” She bit her lip and her eyes waxed emotional. “In the eight months I stayed with her ... Well, I don’t want to say I learned more from her than from you or Mom, but I learned different things. Things that I needed.” Richard gave her a subtle nod of understanding.

He answered: “You deserve the credit for your insight and hard work. Inventing an entirely new way to predict the future is no small accomplishment! But I suspect few people could have nurtured your talent as she did.”

She smiled and nodded. “Jennifer is amazing. I love her and I couldn’t have done it without her.” She added, “Have you read any of the preliminary drafts?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. I’m interested in your work academically, but as a straight man, I’ll leave the magic predicated on fellatio to others.”

She beamed playfully. “More for us girls, then! And gay guys of course.” Her eyebrow took on a conspiratorial arch. “By the way, did Jennifer and you...?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” he told her with a smirk.

She shrugged. “Well, anyway, I thought we were done writing like two weeks ago - ready to share with the whole magic community. But it seems like there’s always one more edit or appendix or illustration ... Ugh! I just want to be done with it so I can go back to a normal life. Hopefully, it’ll just be one more week.”

He looked at her thoughtfully. “I’m not sure ‘normal life’ is in the cards for you anymore. Your name will soon be known to every mage in the world.”

She rolled her eyes. “And that’s why we need scrying wards on our house,” she said overly dramatically. “Thanks for putting those up by the way. I’ll probably do the demon wards tomorrow.”

“Are you expecting any particular trouble?”

“No, but Jennifer says I need to be careful anyway. She talked the Rocky Mountain Coven into a truce after the whole demon attack exchange, but she says in war sometimes a few rogue soldiers keep fighting even after peace is declared.”

“Well, if there’s anything I can do to help before I set off for Spain, please let me know,” he offered.

---

The three enjoyed James’ dinner and the wine Richard had brought. Laurel insisted that “the men” should relax and talk while she took care of cleaning up.

With Laurel safely in the kitchen doing dishes, James asked, “So about Laurel’s glamour - that’s a lot, right?”

“Yes,” Richard said with a frown. “She’s using a very advanced technique - one I’ve only ever read about. It’s a reactive glamour - it constantly re-tunes itself for each observer.”

James sighed. “It’s too much. I mean, there’s beautiful and then there’s...”

“Helen of Troy?” Richard said, completing James’ concern. “I wonder if she actually understands what sort of power she’s playing with.” He took a sip of his brandy. “Would you like me to talk to her about it?”

James shook his head. “No. I don’t want to put your relationship with her on the line now that you’re on good terms again. I’ll talk to her if it becomes a problem.”

---

Chapter 2

Upon hearing the car door close, Imogen gave Hunter a this-is-it look across the chess board. He nodded and then moved his bishop.

Imogen and Hunter were friends, and when she had told him she planned to stay on campus for the Christmas break, he invited her to come stay with his family instead. She was reluctant, not wanting to encourage his romantic feelings toward her, but he invented the most extravagant, over-the-top story she’d ever heard to sway her: his little sister could show her real magic.

For a week she had been intrigued but not convinced, but he went to such elaborate lengths to sell his story that she wanted to see how it ended. It was obviously a prank, but he was so confident about it, so able to address every challenge she threw at him. He didn’t know all the answers, of course - he wasn’t a sorcerer himself - but the pieces he did know fit together tighter than off-the-cuff fabrications could have, and he hadn’t ripped the ideas off from any movie or book that she knew of.

Hunter and Imogen had been at his father’s house for two hours. She got settled in the guest room. She met his father, a nice man named James who refused to comment on the topic of magic until she’d talked to Hunter’s sister Laurel, who was out on a date. So after James had gone to bed, Hunter and Imogen had passed the time playing chess.

“Wow!” Imogen said when Laurel came in through the front door. Laurel froze. Imogen stood and moved to shake her hand. “Hi, I’m Imogen. Hunter didn’t mention that you’re absolutely gorgeous!”

“Uh, hi,” Laurel said, confused. After an awkward few seconds, she close the door and said, “I need to pee.”

Little sister Laurel was a petite redhead in a sleeveless lilac lace dress and a blue cardigan sweater. She had blue puppy-dog eyes but lips that could bring the proudest man to his knees with a simple, “please”. Her hair was fairly short - a cute choppy bob - but everything else about her dripped femininity. As an art student with an interest in fashion, Imogen was awestruck by the perfection with which Laurel’s body and dress complimented each other.

“She’s not really that hot,” Hunter muttered as Laurel rushed to the bathroom.

When Laurel returned she seemed a little more relaxed. “I’m sorry,” she said, offering to shake Imogen’s hand again. “I didn’t know there’d be ... I didn’t ... Um.”

Imogen smiled disarmingly. “I get it - Hunter didn’t tell you he was bringing home company.” She cast an accusing gaze at her friend.

“Yeah,” Laurel said with a smile and shrug.

Imogen grinned devilishly. “Actually, either you’re a very good actress, or Hunter put you on the spot more than you know.” She tilted her head and grinned. “He promised that you could show me real magic.”

“Wha...?” Laurel gasped, glaring at Hunter. He nodded and gestured encouragingly to her.

Laurel seemed to consider her words carefully. “Hunter was probably just joking with you, right? If magic were real, knowing about it would be a pretty heavy burden, don’t you think? I mean, if you really believed in that sort of thing, you couldn’t talk to most people about it - they’d think you were crazy. The people who did know about it would probably get sick of your questions. You’d never know what was real and what was fake online. Any time anything strange happened, you’d wonder if there was a supernatural explanation. It would be this big secret that you eventually realized you had to keep. But it would bug you for the rest of your life like an itch you can never scratch.”

Imogen chuckled. “Wow! You two are really good at this! You’ve run this scam before, haven’t you? Maybe you invented it to get the prom queen into bed?”

“Um, yeah,” Laurel said, relieved. Hunter looked at her pleadingly. His face seemed to say, I’ve never asked you for anything ever before, but this girl could be the one. Help me!

Laurel looked at the floor and paced nervously. She started to move toward her bedroom but Hunter sprung up and put his arm around her.

“Imogen - describe what Laurel looks like. Details but nothing flowery,” Hunter asked. He held her to his side.

“Okay...,” Imogen said. “Well, she’s like four inches shorter than you. Chin-length flaming red hair - basically as red as natural hair can get. Blue eyes, triangular face. Narrow body with a knockout figure. Flawless skin.” Imogen shrugged.

“What size bra do you think she wears?” Hunter asked.

“Dude, I don’t know,” Imogen argued. “I wear four different sizes myself depending on the company.”

“Well, compare them to something.”

Imogen shrugged. “They’re about the size of grapefruit halves.”

“Alright...,” Hunter said. He moved to Imogen’s side and began fiddling with his phone.

“Hunter, I really don’t...,” Laurel complained, but he interrupted her by snapping a picture. “Now look at this.”

Imogen looked at the photo for a moment and then shook her head. “The lighting in here...”

“It’s not the lighting.” He moved between the two girls to block Imogen’s view of Laurel. “Describe the picture.”

Imogen took a frustrated breath. “Well, here it looks like your hair is more brown than red. And the flash makes your eyes look like more of an ice-blue rather than sapphire.”

“What about her boobs?” Hunter asked. “Not grapefruits, right? More like orange halves?”

Hunter was right - in the photo, Laurel didn’t have a pinup figure. She had a pleasantly narrow waist and some girlish curves, but she wasn’t a fashion designer’s dream. There were lots of little differences, too. It was like looking at a candid photo of a celebrity at the grocery store after seeing them in a movie.

Imogen side-stepped Hunter and held the phone up to look at it side-by-side with the dejected-looking kid sister. It was disorienting. Her brain knew that she was looking at the same person, but it couldn’t decide what that person looked like. If she focused on one thing, like the color of Laurel’s hair, she could almost convince herself that she was seeing the color from the photo. But it was slippery - her mind couldn’t hold on to any scrap of truth for very long.

“See?” Hunter said standing beside Imogen and looking at his phone. “She’s not hot at all.”

Laurel turned around, like a child who’d been told to stand in the corner as punishment. “It’s going to give you a headache if you keep doing that,” she said. “Will you please just delete that?”

Imogen deleted the photo and then sat on the couch looking stunned. “What the hell did I just see?”

Hunter sat on the couch next to her. “Magic,” he said self-assuredly.

She punished him with a frown. “Magic, and you being a dick to your sister.” She turned to face Laurel whose back was still to her. “Laurel, honey, if this is real, is there anything else you can show me?”

Laurel noncommittally walked over and sat on the floor opposite the couch. “It’s mostly just little tricks.” She was back to being breathtakingly beautiful, which made her pout heart-breaking.

“Can you make your brother’s face break out in boils?” Imogen asked jokingly.

Laurel smiled. “No.” Her mood began to level out. “I can incapacitate a man though. I had to do that to a guy who was pestering me at a gas station once.”

“Ooh! Can you show me?” Imogen asked and then looked hopefully at Hunter.

“Yeah - do it to me,” he said.

Laurel shook her head. “No. It’ll embarrass you and then you’ll be mad at me.”

“Come on - I’ve been choked out in MMA class. I can handle it.”

Laurel shook her head more. “You’re not going to like it.”

“Come on. Please. I promised Imogen you’d show her real magic, so this is me doing my part.”

Laurel stood up and Hunter followed suit. “Promise?” She asked. He nodded.

“So, like, should I try to grab you?” He said, facing her.

“Yeah, okay,” she answered.

Hunter’s left hand grabbed Laurel’s right wrist, while his right hand attached to the side of her neck. He planted his feet, prepared to throw her. Laurel’s free hand shot out toward his groin and cupped his package. She spoke three strange words and then his body crumpled with a groan. His eyes showed surprise before they closed.

“You guys are fucking with me,” Imogen accused. Laurel shrugged.

“What did you do to him?” Imogen asked.

“You know how orgasms make guys sleepy?” Laurel said. “It’s based on that.”

Imogen chuckled. “I’m supposed to believe that you put your brother to sleep by making him come? That he’s not just playing possum?”

“When you guys go to bed you’ll see that he made a mess in his underwear,” Laurel said confidently.

“I’m staying in the guest room,” Imogen corrected Laurel firmly.

Imogen stared at Laurel, waiting for her to confess a ruse, or for Hunter to get bored and get up. “Joke’s over, Hunter - you can get up now.” Laurel didn’t waver, and Hunter remained still.

“You’re seriously telling me that if I reach into his pants right now...?” Imogen asked. Laurel nodded.

After thinking it over, Imogen knelt beside Hunter and shoved her hand into his pants, feeling around. “Congratulations, Hunter, I’m touching your dick,” she said under her breath.

She pulled her hand out and looked in awe at the sticky white strands spanning her fingers.

“Please don’t make fun of him, okay? I don’t want him to be mad at me,” Laurel asked.

Imogen faced her, tilting her head sympathetically. “He hasn’t always been nice to you, has he?” Laurel looked away and shrugged. Imogen added, “I think the girl in the picture was pretty.”

---

The last of Imogen’s skepticism vanished the next morning when Laurel demonstrated the magical hair-drying apparatus that she had invented, which looked like a decorative wooden comb.

Laurel even tried to instruct Imogen to use it herself after her own shower, by issuing a variety of inexplicable instructions: “Turn your right foot inward fifteen degrees.” “Here, hum this sequence.” “Try to visualize a red cube while you brush.”

When Imogen pointed out that Laurel didn’t seem to be doing those things herself, she told her: “I’m basically accomplishing the same things, but in ways that would be hard to describe.”

Laurel explained: “Magic is about manipulating the currents of energy around us and inside us. You’re just as capable of manipulating those energies as I am. Here - hold out your hand and make a fist,” she instructed. “Now open your hand and turn your palm up. See? You just changed like seven things around us. The difference is you don’t perceive them, and you haven’t studied what to do with them.”

“And just telling me which fingers to wiggle isn’t enough?” Imogen asked.

Laurel shook her head. “Think of it like this: Imagine everyone in the world is colorblind, except for, like, thirty thousand of us. And it’s always been that way. Regular languages wouldn’t have the words ‘red’ and ‘yellow’. And the people who did go around saying those words would sound like they were babbling.”

Laurel took the apparatus from Imogen and began combing and drying her guest’s curly brown hair. “But say you believed me when I told you that there were these things called colors. And say you wanted to paint a picture of a bowl of fruit using colors. So I give you a bunch of jars of paint and I tell you, ‘Jar #4 is red; use it for apples. Use jar #8 for bananas.’ You might produce something that sort of looked like a bowl of fruit, but it wouldn’t be very good. You’d never get the shading right.”

“But with enough practice...,” Imogen suggested.

Laurel shook her head. “The thing is, to do any kind of useful spell, you wouldn’t be painting a bowl of fruit. You’d be...” Her eyes drifted to the ceiling while she thought. “You’d be painting a sunset on a river in the fall. One particular sunset on the river, while it’s happening.”

“So that’s it then? I wasn’t born with this metaphorical color vision?” Imogen asked.

Laurel shook her head. “Nobody is born with it. You have to be taught. But it has to be when you’re very young and your brain hasn’t settled on all the ways it perceives the world yet.”

“And your mom taught you?” Imogen asked. “What about Hunter?”

“He can see the energies,” Laurel nodded. “My mom just couldn’t get him interested in the manipulation part. But if he applied himself for five or six years, he could...”

Imogen interrupted, volunteering an ending for the sentence. “ ... dry his hair?”

Laurel grinned. “Yeah.”

“So you’re going to teach your kids?” Imogen asked.

“I want to,” Laurel answered. “I’d hate for the family legacy to die with me. But I also want to be a veterinarian, and that’s a career that takes a lot of commitment. And, I mean, who knows if I’ll ever even get married. Maybe I’ll teach Hunter’s kids instead.”

---

Chapter 3

James had hinted that Laurel was a distraction at the office, and the house Internet started working again, so Laurel worked on her publication from home for the next few days. When she decided to take a break and go to the mall, Imogen went with her.

Laurel couldn’t remember ever shopping for clothes with another girl. There had been her mom, of course, and earlier this year her gay friend Theo had given her a wardrobe makeover, but those weren’t the same.

She was envious, it occurred to her, that Imogen was pretty for real, without needing magic. Imogen’s boobs were definitely a fruit category bigger than grapefruit, but of course, she had a bigger frame. Bigger and curvier. Laurel had sometimes heard guys go crazy over “child-bearing hips” like Imogen had, and she supposed that hips like those pushed a lot of guys’ evolutionary buttons. Imogen’s hair intrigued her as well: there had been something fascinating about its texture when Laurel had brushed it. She also had a very slight classy English accent.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Imogen said as they drifted through the river of holiday shoppers. “You’ve gone on dates every night I’ve been here. And you did that sleepy-orgasm trick on the first night. Do you and this guy you’ve been seeing use magic for sex?”

Laurel blushed and grinned. “Well, there’s more than one guy. But yeah...”

“Like what?” Imogen asked with wonder.

Laurel shrugged bashfully. “Okay, well, I know it’s disgusting, but I like it when guys come. It makes me feel good about myself. But I don’t like the sex to be over. So a lot of times I’ll keep resetting the guy so that he can keep going without any downtime. That way he can come lots of times. Or sometimes I’ll just make it so he can last a really long time before coming. I play it by ear.”

“Wow. Just wow. And then you come a lot too?” Imogen asked. Laurel nodded vigorously.

They stopped to look at a vandalized store display with mannequins left in vulgar poses.

“Are there guys who know how to do this sort of magic?” Imogen asked.

“Some,” Laurel nodded. “I only know two straight ones. They’re both beginners at it and live on the other side of the country.”

“And not Hunter...?” Imogen asked. A sort of vulnerable intensity was creeping into her voice.

“No,” Laurel said with a shake of her head.

They walked on.

“So what if somebody had a mental block?” Imogen asked. Laurel gave her a puzzled look. “Say someone used to really really really like sex? But then as she got a little older - like, eleven - and she started to understand things more, she stopped liking it as much? And say no amount of therapists and supportive boyfriends had ever managed to change that?”

Imogen waited, vulnerable, for Laurel to respond.

“I’m so sorry,” Laurel said. “I don’t know if I can help you. If it’s all in your mind I probably can’t, but I’ve read that sometimes these things have a physical manifestation. I’ve got a whole box of vibrators and stuff, so maybe tonight we can...”

“No,” Imogen interrupted. “It has to be a guy. I’ve got issues, okay? I just know that if I’m ever going to get over it, it has to be with a guy.” Laurel nodded.

The clover tattoo on Laurel’s wrist had been itching. It was the enchantment telling her that somebody nearby meant her harm. She persuaded Imogen to stop for soft pretzels so she could look around, but she couldn’t figure out the source of the warning.

She did spot a familiar face passing by though. “Ken! Hey Ken! C’mere! This is my friend Imogen!”

“Hey,” Ken and Imogen both greeted each other.

Laurel didn’t know Imogen’s type, but most girls would certainly have found Ken’s looks agreeable. He was medium-sized with dirty-blond hair in a somewhat moppish cut. He was wearing a vintage bomber jacket with effortless confidence.

“She’s from out of town!” Laurel rushed to say, but then there was an awkward pause before she went on. “I’ve been showing her the city and stuff, and I thought ... Um, if you and Milo don’t have any plans, maybe we can come to your apartment?” Laurel began to get nervous. She knew she wasn’t saying things right. She was being a freak.

“You consider our apartment one of the city’s big attractions, then?” He said with a chuckle. Laurel couldn’t decide if he was mocking her or letting her off with a joke.

Imogen put a hand on Laurel’s shoulder. “What she means is, maybe we can meet at your place and then go out to a couple bars. She figured you’d know some good places.”

“Yeah, that,” Laurel said, glad for the rescue.

Ken looked the girls over with a sly smile. “That could be fun. I’ll run it by Milo and we’ll hit you up with a text,” he said before nodding a goodbye and setting off into the crowd.

Once Ken was safely out of earshot, Laurel told Imogen, “I’m sorry. I should have asked you. I don’t even know ... I mean, about your problem...”

Imogen smiled. “I think I get it. Let’s see how drinks go.”

---

Imogen bet Milo and Ken each ten dollars each that Laurel would be able to get the first round of beers, despite being underage and not having a fake ID. She was petite with a youthful face. If anything, the bartender would think she was younger than she actually was, the boys had argued.

Laurel was pleased by Imogen’s confidence in her. It was simple, of course: a few crow’s feet and frown lines, a little sagging in her cheeks. The bartender’s own expectations focused her glamour until it matched the impression she wanted to give. He probably assumed she was a forty-year-old hanging out with her niece and friends. To everyone else, she remained a beautiful young woman.

While Laurel quietly sipped at her beer, Imogen threw back one after another, boisterously keeping pace with the guys. It seemed so effortless for her: she was at once one of the boys and also the embodiment of the feminine spirit that men spend their lives seeking. And she could talk to them about anything! She didn’t know the video game they spent so much time playing, but she understood the competitive spirit from high school tennis. She impressed them with her knowledge of fancy computer hardware - at least as it applied to art software. She could even casually reach out and muss their hair or steal gulps from their mugs without it being weird. It was fun when Imogen did that sort of thing. Even with a skillfully crafted glamour to make her beautiful, Laurel knew she couldn’t compete with girls like Imogen. When it came to social graces, there was no magic to hide what Laurel was. Beauty was the only card she had to play.

---

By the time the four returned to Milo and Ken’s apartment, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that it was on. While Ken and Imogen made out on the couch, Laurel sat in Milo’s lap in the easy chair and dry-humped him with considerable skill. Her eyes seemed to dare him: I could make you come like this and there’s nothing you could do to stop me.

Perhaps in defiance of her unspoken threat, he twisted her around until she was face-down on his lap and swatted her ass. She yelped playfully and squirmed, but he held her in place and groped her.

A glance at the couch showed that Imogen was now shirtless, laying on her back. Her lacy blue-and-black bra was still present, maintaining the roundness of her sizable breasts in contrast to the flatness of her belly.

“Those are some tits,” Milo mentioned. Laurel giggled.

“Yeah they are,” Ken said, kneeling upright between Imogen’s legs and taking off his shirt.

With all eyes on her, Imogen rose from the couch enough to unhook her bra and tossed it aside before lying back again. Now her breasts were spread out across her chest. Her nipples stood out proudly like hilltop towers. Ken’s mouth came down on them like a Kansas tornado over and over before he rose back up and said, “Come on - let’s go to my room.”

“No!” Laurel quickly objected. “Would it be alright if we all stayed here?” She asked timidly.

“You are such a weird girl,” Milo said affectionately. He lifted her like a doll and put her back in his lap, facing him, and he kissed her while working on the buttons of her blouse.

By the time Milo came up for air, Ken was taking aim at Imogen’s pussy and sliding his dick into her. He held his body inches above her and drove his hips, his ass bobbing up and down. She smiled silently and moved her head as if to the beat of his song.

Laurel watched the other couple intently for a little while, but then she got on her knees and made it her mission to take Milo’s pants off. Soon she was teasing him with a slow wet sloppy blowjob.

Laurel was good about blowjob eye contact. Milo knew that she could fuck him with her beautiful blue eyes as much as her mouth, and most of the time she did. But this time she couldn’t stop glancing over at her friend getting fucked on the couch. Then something seemed to click inside her and she gave her whole attention to Milo.

She went for it, no longer taking her time. She violently slammed her throat with his cock for a while and then went shallow, tonguing the head while jerking with her hand. Laurel had never seemed athletic before, but she did at this as she repeated the cycle of high-energy throat fucking followed by enthusiastic licking and jerking. Her red hair bounced around wildly but her breathing always stayed even. This was no anyone-can-do-it blowjob like Milo got from other girls: Laurel had real skill that must have taken a great deal of dedication and practice to hone.

Her finger invaded his ass and stroked his P-spot. That was it - he was sure he would come in seconds. But he didn’t. All the pressure was there - he was past the point of no return and past his ability to hold back - but somehow he didn’t come. It actually alarmed him, because the pressure just kept building and his body seemed to scream as it tried to come, but it didn’t happen. Laurel went all the way down on him and held it. Her throat tightened on his dick and her finger did some kung fu death punch on his prostate. He honestly thought that something inside him would rupture from the pressure. And then it happened.

“Oh god! Oh fuck!” He said as he pumped jizz down Laurel’s throat. “What the fuck?” He muttered, still coming. “Wha ... wha...?” He gasped as his ejaculation finally lost strength.

Laurel got up and pranced to the kitchen sink to wash her hands. Milo watched his erection fade away. Usually with Laurel, for some reason, he could come and just keep fucking. He was surprised that this time was different, but decided it was probably a good thing: his abdomen hurt from coming so hard. It had undeniably been the best orgasm of his life though.

Laurel walked to the side of the couch where Ken was still going strong in Imogen’s pussy. She held her hand on Imogen’s head and the two girls smiled at each other. Then out of nowhere, she advised, “Why don’t you try being on top?”

Pretty soon, Ken was on his back on the floor and Imogen was reverse-cowgirling him with her hands planted on the ground between his knees and her feet by his sides. Ken’s eyes were fixed on her ass rising and falling energetically. Strangely, Laurel sat beside Ken, moved his arm out of the way, and began rubbing Imogen’s foot.

“What?” Imogen said, seeming confused and worried. “I ... This ... I think I might...,” she muttered. She began panting and humping harder. Her pussy lips gripped Ken’s rod desperately as she bounced on it. His dick glistened from her flow of juices dripping down it. “I’m gonna come!” She said with earnest disbelief.

Laurel kept casually rubbing her foot, seemingly indifferent to her intensity. Ken gritted his teeth and grunted, trying to hold back.

“Oh yeah! That’s it! That’s it!” Imogen cried. She clearly came, and as far as Milo could tell, Ken’s control shattered at the same time. He groaned with relief.

Laurel abandoned Imogen’s foot. She patted Ken’s shoulder, encouragingly saying, “Keep going!” before returning to Milo’s lap. This time she sat sideways in his lap with her arm around his neck and they both watched their friends.

Ken and Imogen wordlessly agreed on a position change. She rose to her hands and knees and he knelt behind her, and then he slammed her pussy with his still rock-hard cock. Their skin together made a fast-paced clapping sound. She didn’t moan, but she did announce, once again with surprise, “Again!”

She came twice more - just as surprised and just as grateful - before Ken roared, full of pride, “Here it comes again!” He shot another load into her pussy before falling back away from her. She collapsed onto her side with a huge smile on her face.

Everyone was quiet. Both of the guys were soft. Imogen’s breathing settled to a normal rate. That whole time, Ken never took his eye off Imogen’s pussy.

“You know what would be hot?” Ken finally said, breaking the silence. He gestured to Laurel. “Is if you were to eat my load out of her hole.”

Laurel shrugged amicably at him. “I’ve never done that before. You really think that would be hot?” Both guys nodded. Then to Imogen, she asked, “Would you be okay with that?”

Imogen looked high. “I don’t think I could say no to anything right now.”

So then Imogen rolled onto her back with her legs open, and Laurel lay between them with a pillow under her chest, experimenting with ways to stick her tongue into her friend’s cunt. She took her time scooping out as much of the semen wad as she could while Imogen made vague noises of surprise and amusement. Then Laurel sucked and licked up the liquefied mixture of sex juices that had smeared all over Imogen’s vulva and thighs. Slowly, Laurel’s attention drifted until she was licking Imogen’s clit. Imogen moaned dreamily for a long time, and then came, shuddering and saying, “Oh yes!”

Imogen was pawing her breasts coming when Milo approached her. “You mind if I take a ride on those?”

“Okay,” Imogen answered dreamily.

Milo straddled her chest and spat, and then surrounded his meaty cock with her boob flesh. Imogen held her breasts tightly together and watched the tip of Milo’s cock appear and disappear in them. Mostly, though, she watched his face as he grew more and more intense. Every once in a while her eyes would roll back and she’d moan from whatever Laurel was doing to her.

When he shot a load into her chin, she exclaimed, “Oh!,” and then chuckled. “Well, this is kinda fun!” She said, seeming unsure what to do about the come dripping down her neck.

“It’s working for me,” Milo said. He let a fresh wad of spit fall between her tits and got back to work fucking them.

Milo looked back from riding Imogen’s tits to see Ken peeling Laurel’s jeans from her legs while Laurel experimented with sucking on Imogen’s clit.

“Huh!” Ken exclaimed when he pulled down Laurel’s panties, reacting to the jewel-ended plug in her ass. Ken pulled it out, making Laurel yelp, and then put it on some tissues on the end table. “I think I’m going to fuck your ass.”

“There’s lube in my purse,” Laurel said casually.

Milo fired off another salvo onto Imogen’s neck. Laurel yelped again when Ken penetrated her, and then she grunted girlishly with each of his thrusts. That seemed to turn Imogen on enough to make her come again, which she celebrated by rolling her breasts together sensuously around Milo’s dick.

Laurel came. Milo didn’t need to hear it or see it - he just knew as if he were a part of it. Ken came - same deal. Laurel came again, and this time, Imogen with her. They all kept coming, somehow, and as inexplicable as it was, toward the end they were all coming in unison.

When they all stopped - somehow they all knew when it was time to stop - Imogen had a river of semen running down both sides of her neck onto the carpet. Laurel’s face was wet and chafed from razor stubble. Her belly and thighs were rug burned. Milo’s body ached and he imagined that Ken’s dick was probably bruised.

“So you’re going back to school after New Year’s?” Milo asked Laurel while they got dressed. She nodded. “And that’s in Flagstaff?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, pulling up her undies.

“Flagstaff seems like a cool city,” he said, trying not to sound too eager. “I bet I could find a job there no problem.”

Laurel giggled, seemingly failing to understand his seriousness.

---

Chapter 4

Even straight out of bed with her hair all messed up, Laurel still looked like a supermodel, Hunter thought. She was clearly a gigantic slut - it was obvious that she was putting out at the drop of a hat on all of her “dates”. For a time back in high school when Alison was teaching her magic, Laurel had been genuinely sex-crazed. Now this new spell she had invented had something to do with sperm, and it seemed like she had turned nympho again. Whatever - it wasn’t his job to protect his little sister’s chastity. He wished she wouldn’t drag Imogen into whatever the hell she was doing though.

James had called for the kids to wake up - he was making pancakes. Laurel joined Hunter at the table. Imogen stood in the open back door. “God it’s a beautiful day today. Let’s do something outside!”

“Go to the park? Throw the ball around?” Hunter suggested.

Imogen smiled. “Brilliant. James? Laurel? Will you be joining us?”

“I’m in,” James said, placing a plate of pancakes on the table.

“I can’t - I’ve got a big meeting online today,” Laurel said. She frowned. “Obfuscation strategies for the paper.” She sighed and looked at James. “Is this what work is like? You start off having fun creating something new, but in the end, it turns into endless meetings and emails and reviews?”

“Sadly, yes - oftentimes it is,” James said. “But when you look back on it, you remember how much fun the creative part was. And once people start using what you’ve given them, it’ll feel great. Hang in there, sweetheart.”

Good, Hunter thought. Showing Imogen a fun time without Laurel around was definitely a win.

“Don’t forget,” James said to everyone, “Teppanyaki tonight to celebrate Laurel’s birthday.”

---

Laurel and Imogen returned to the mall for some follow-up shopping.

“So tell me about this paper you’re writing,” Imogen asked as they set their trays down on a food court table.

“Well,” Laurel said, not sure exactly what to say, “I invented a new spell, and that’s really pretty rare. Although I guess I’ve got a knack for it because I’ve invented a couple others, too. But this one is a really big deal. There was all kinds of drama with one of the covens trying to strong-arm me into giving it exclusively to them. But it’s too powerful for that. We decided the best way to keep people from abusing it was to give it to everyone.”

Laurel was talking on autopilot. Her clover tattoo itched again, more intensely than last time. Someone wanted to hurt her. She scanned the crowd looking for any signs of who it might be. When she met their eyes she knew she had found them: a man and woman - both in their thirties - glaring hatefully at her. She completely spaced out on whatever Imogen was saying.

“Watch my stuff while I go to the bathroom, okay?”

Inside the bathroom, Laurel quickly plugged the drain of one sink with a wad of paper towels and opened the faucet to fill it. After making a few magical preparations for her contingency spell, she looked around and tried to come up with a plan, but no new ideas came to her.

The other magicians entered the bathroom. The man locked the door while the woman drew a double-edged knife from her purse. It was enchanted somehow, but Laurel couldn’t guess the details.

“You can’t kill me in here!” Laurel blurted. “You’ll never get away with it. Too many people saw you come in. Security cameras, forensics.”

“Now why would we want to kill you?” The woman spat.

“There’s a truce!” Laurel argued. “Blood was spilled on both sides and I’m sorry for that, but the coven leadership agreed it’s over!”

The woman snorted. “My brother - his husband - lost most of his higher brain function when your pet demon shoved an ice pick in his head. But sure - let’s let bygones be bygones!”

Water began to overflow the sink and spread across the floor.

“You’re right though,” the man said. He reached into a pocket inside his jacket and produced a syringe, and then removed the cap protecting the needle. “We can’t kill you here. That’s what this is for.”

“Please don’t do this! I’m begging you!” Laurel said, retreating into a corner.

The woman waved the knife menacingly. “Isn’t that cute? The girl who sent a demon assassin after us is begging for her life.”

Laurel shook her head, on the verge of tears. “I’m not begging for my life! I don’t want to hurt you!”

The woman laughed. The man advanced, syringe at the ready. Laurel extended her arm toward the sink and released the moonlight stored in her skin into the water. She spoke a few words to complete the spell, and then both of her attackers fell to the ground. They struggled to stand, to orient themselves, but powerful erratic forces were pushing on them, toppling and confusing them, and sapping their will to fight.

Laurel took the weapons from her helpless enemies. She emptied the syringe into an unclogged sink and then threw it in the trash.

She looked at the knife in her hand, and then she began to pace. She couldn’t let them live - she was sure that would have been Jennifer’s counsel. If she let them live they’d keep coming and coming. She had to end it. But what if she was wrong? What if it was a misunderstanding? She pulled at her hair, her lip quivering. These were human beings - she couldn’t just kill someone.

It was a moot point, she realized: she couldn’t get away with a murder in a mall bathroom any more than they could. She didn’t have to face that awful decision - circumstances made it for her.

Her attackers writhed on the ground, no longer even attempting to rise to their hands and knees. She had to at least punish them, she thought. She had to make them afraid to ever cross her again. She kicked the man in the ribs, but she hurt her toe worse than she hurt him. Maybe she needed a weapon - a trash can lid or a toilet tank lid. Nothing nearby looked suitable for bludgeoning.

She still had the knife. She could hurt them. They wouldn’t be going to the police. She could cut off their ears or stab their eyes. She screamed to herself. She bit her hand in frustration. It was all too gruesome. She had to do something, but she couldn’t bring herself to do any of it. She was too weak to make use of the advantage she had created.

Finally, she dug in their wallets and took their driver’s licenses. She cut each of them with their knife, soaking a few drops of each’s blood into a paper towel, and then she scurried out.

Imogen stood looking worried as Laurel approached her. “Bloody hell! Laurel, what’s wrong?”

Laurel tried to steady her adrenaline-soaked body enough to speak. “Can we go home? And can you drive?”

---

Alone in her bedroom, after countless deep breaths, Laurel video-called her mentor Jennifer.

“I was attacked.”

“Oh, dear. Are you okay? Tell me what happened.”

“I was at the mall with a friend,” Laurel began. Jennifer visibly objected already, but allowed Laurel to go on. “My tattoo itched so I was on the lookout. There were a lot of people around, but as soon as I saw them I knew they were the ones who wanted to hurt me. Two of them. I couldn’t let them follow me and attack whenever they wanted, so I went to the bathroom hoping they’d follow and I could, I don’t know, find out what their deal was. I filled up the sink before they got there in case I needed an edge.”

Jennifer nodded and began scribbling notes with a pencil and pad of paper.

“They had a knife and a syringe,” Laurel explained. Jennifer raised an eyebrow. “I begged them to let it go. I guess Sebastian stabbed their brother in the brain with an ice pick. So they came at me and I hit them with the Tidal Wallop. It worked really well - just like practice.”

Jennifer nodded again. She had always had the most frustrating poker face - never revealing anything until she was ready. Right now, though, Laurel desperately wanted to see some sort of reassurance or sympathy.

“I thought that maybe I should beat them up?” Laurel went on. “But I couldn’t find anything heavy to hit them with. But I did get their IDs and samples of their blood.”

Laurel figured she was done, but Jennifer asked, “And then?”

Confused, Laurel answered, “Then I came home and called you.”

Jennifer nodded, her face softening slightly. “I’m glad you’re not hurt. Send me pictures of their IDs. I’ll get in touch with the coven and see if these two are theirs. If so, I’ll make sure the coven understands its responsibility. Now, let’s go over your decisions. First, why go to such a public place?”

“I needed to do Christmas shopping,” Laurel said defensively.

Jennifer was unimpressed with the argument. “These days you can have anything in the world delivered to your home. But fine, you’re not prepared to live as a hermit at age twenty. Happy birthday, by the way. Now, was your glamour as eye-catching as back before you left my house?”

“Um, yeah...”

“Okay, so you made it that much easier for them to find you.”

“I guess.”

“Now, when you knew there was a problem - when you decided to confront them - why didn’t you call me first? Or Richard?”

“I should have,” Laurel confessed.

Jennifer looked like there was more she wanted to say but held her tongue. “How much of the Tidal Wallop did they see?”

Laurel shrugged regretfully. “The sink overflowed onto the floor, so they would have been all wet by the time they got up after I was gone. So they know water is important. But I cast it really fast. I don’t know if they noticed the moonlight.”

“But they know the spell exists now. Your advantage - the one thing that let walk out of that bathroom unharmed this time - might not work against the next guy, because you showed them your hand and then let them get away.”

“I know,” Laurel said meekly.

“Not to belabor the point, but in war sometimes you have to do very ugly things to prevent intel from reaching your enemy.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Laurel gushed. “I know you would have wanted me to kill them, but what was I supposed to do? Cut their throats and then hope nobody noticed me leaving bloody footprints in the food court?”

“That’s a very good question. Did you give it any thought before you walked into that bathroom?”

“No,” Laurel said in a guilty tone.

“What was your plan?” Jennifer pressed. “What did you hope to accomplish with your ambush?”

“I guess...,” Laurel began, thinking. “I wanted to talk them into leaving me alone. Or scare them.”

“Can we agree, then, in hindsight, that this was a poor strategy?”

“I’m not a soldier!” Laurel yelled. “I shouldn’t have to be dealing with this. They only hate me because you sent Sebastian to maim their leaders!”

“No!” Jennifer said with steel in her voice. “They attacked you first, without provocation. If I’m guilty of anything, it’s of being too measured in my response. Appeasement never ends a conflict. Never. Sometimes you have to fight. You’re right, it’s not fair that you have to endure these threats. But you’ll find that history is full of victims, refugees, and guerillas who shouldn’t have had to do what they had to do.”

Laurel avoided looking at the camera.

“Now,” Jennifer spoke decisively, “I’ll get back to you with whatever information I can. In the meantime, no public places while these two are out there. If you do leave the house, bring your summoning tools. And if you find yourself with a gentleman friend, see what you can discover about their location with spermamancy.”

Laurel looked back at the camera with tears welling in her eyes. “Jennifer...” She couldn’t seem to find what she wanted to say.

Jennifer’s matronly face softened, finally giving Laurel the empathy she needed. “I’m very glad you’re okay. I know you’ll make the most of this learning opportunity.”

---

Chapter 5

“You look happy. Date go well?” The voice was coming from the other side of the cubical wall. The office’s wide-format printer was in a bank of unoccupied cubicles where people sometimes socialized.

“Very well,” came a second voice. “Six times,” he said boastfully.

A woman’s voice joined in. “You had sex six times in one night?” She asked scornfully.

“Six times in a row.”

James had a pretty strong suspicion about who they were talking about. He gestured at the printer as if to convince it to speed up.

“Bullshit. Not humanly possible,” the woman argued.

“It is with this girl,” the first man said. “She has this way of inspiring you sexually. It’s like being sixteen again.”

The second man corrected him: “It’s like being three clones of yourself at sixteen taking turns with her.”

“This is James’ daughter, right?” The woman asked. James sighed to himself.

“Yeah,” the second man said. “I feel bad for him - he’s probably the only guy in this office who hasn’t had a piece. He’s really missing out.”

“Gross,” the woman said.

A third man nervously injected himself into the conversation. “Do you think she’d go out with me? I was trying to work up the nerve to ask her out but then she stopped coming.”

“Oh, she never stops ‘coming’,” the second man said. There was a slapping sound - probably a high five. “Ever do her up the ass? Every time you thrust she makes this high-pitched grunting sound. Not like you hurt her, but like you knocked the wind out of her. Makes you feel powerful, and she obviously loves it.”

“So do you think I’ve lost my chance?” The third man asked.

“No, man. Just call her,” the first man said. “I think she says yes to everyone. And she absolutely will put out, so no need to stress about whether you’re saying the right things. Just be nice to her, take her somewhere private, and enjoy the ride.”

James closed his eyes and shook his head. He shouldn’t be listening to this. But then again, maybe he had a duty to listen - either for Laurel’s sake or the firm’s. He tried to ignore the fact that he was getting hard.

“Do you know if she does three-ways?” The woman asked. “A pretty little thing like that would make a nice one-time treat for my boyfriend.”

“Carol, no,” the second man responded. “Look, I’m sure you’re a competent fuck, but once your boyfriend gets a taste of her, you will forever be a disappointment to him.”

“Piss off,” she dismissed him.

“Any idea if Eric’s wife knows about her?” The first man asked.

“Not yet,” the second one answered.

Eric. Married Eric. One of James’ partners. He’d known Laurel since she was ten.

The printer chimed to announce that it had finished. James sighed and rolled up his printout. He took a path back to his office that avoided his gossiping coworkers and used the printout to obscure the bulge in his pants.

---

“Sweetheart, can we talk?” It was James’ first chance to talk to Laurel alone. She was sitting at the desk in her bedroom working on her laptop.

“Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

She was wearing comfortable around-the-house clothes, not date clothes. Still, her appearance was plenty distracting. There was a hand-sized gap where her smooth thigh disappeared into her sweat shorts. Juvenile instinct demanded he look for a glimpse of panties - if she was even wearing any. Her sweatshirt was cropped and that damned belly piercing kept pulling his eyes to it, too. And despite the thickness of the material, her nipples insisted on making themselves known. James did his best not to stare.

“From the way people are talking at work, you’ve been dating Eric. If that’s true, that’s not okay.”

“Because he’s your partner?” She asked, perplexed.

“Because he’s married,” James corrected.

“Oh, no - that’s not a problem,” she explained. “He and his wife have an understanding.”

“Laurel, you can’t really believe that...,” James said plainly.

“Why would he lie?” She challenged naively.

James shook his head. “To sleep with you, Laurel. Even the best of men can be tempted by a beautiful woman, and you are a very beautiful woman.”

Laurel beamed. She thought he was complimenting her.

“And from the sound of it, you’ve been pretty liberal with the sex magic,” he continued.

“I like to make sure my partner has a memorable time!” She said with a smile that, presumably, she didn’t mean to be so sexy.

A hundred images flashed through James’ mind: images of things Laurel might do to make sure her partner has a memorable time. He fought to keep his mind from expanding on each idea, picturing it in detail. He shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts about his daughter.

He looked away. “There’s such a thing as too much of a good thing,” he said with a hint of irritation. “Dial back the glamour. Save the sex magic for special occasions.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see her pout. “Without those things, why would anyone choose me?” She asked vulnerably.

He was failing as a father. He looked back at her face: earnest with wide eyes full of doubt. He should comfort her - soothe her insecurities. He should guide her, teach her. This was a critical moment to help her. He felt the urge to hold her, but not the way a father should. He wanted to kiss her. What the hell was wrong with him?

He stood up and turned his back to her. “Just ... tone it down,” he said, and quickly left her bedroom.

---

Chapter 6

Imogen heard Laurel’s car door shut. Hunter and James had gone to bed, and of course, Laurel had been out on a date. Imogen was sitting in the living room reading a spy novel. They waved to each other when Laurel entered and then she sat on the couch near Imogen.

“So how many times did you guys come?” Imogen asked as if showing off her understanding of Laurel’s sex magic.

Laurel blushed. “Me? Lots. Just once for him though. That seemed to be the way he wanted it - you know, prove his stamina and stuff.”

“But it wasn’t really his stamina, was it?”

Laurel shrugged bashfully. “I made a few little tweaks is all.”

Imogen’s gaze suddenly snapped to Laurel’s ear. “Damn! Those are some earrings!” Then she questioned her reaction. “Wait - am I seeing the earrings as they really are, or is magic making them better?”

“Oh, I’m not doing anything to them,” Laurel said. She removed them and handed them to Imogen as she explained. “They were a birthday gift from Grant. Nice, huh? They really look real!”

Imogen examined the sparkling white gems at the hearts of the earrings. They were probably 3 karats each. “Laurel, I think they are real. And bloody expensive.”

Laurel rolled her eyes with a giggle. “No! Who would give a twenty-year-old real diamonds?”

A man who’s smitten with the illusion of perfect beauty, , Imogen answered silently to herself. She handed the earrings back to Laurel.

“So...,” Imogen began, easing into her new topic, “you said I could borrow your sex toys? I want to see if I can get there on my own - no magic.”

“Yeah, of course!” Laurel said. “You don’t need to ask. Help yourself any time!”

“Thanks,” Imogen replied. She chewed her lip before finally asking, “Would you maybe want to keep me company?”

“Yeah, sure!”

They retrieved the basket of sex toys from Laurel’s room and went to the guest room through the bathroom between them. Laurel sat on the desk swinging her legs while Imogen looked through the mysterious basket.

She selected a long skinny dildo and settled into a throne of pillows on the bed before stripping off her jeans and underwear, and beginning her self-tease. She took it slow to start, stroking her lips with the toy’s tips. Sometimes she’d let it touch her vagina - just the opening - and it would come back with a coating of slippery fluid.

After two minutes of putting herself in the mood, she was relaxed, wet, and breathing heavily. The toy was well-coated with her natural lubricant. She worked the dildo in and out of her pussy by hand, letting her thumb bump close to her clit with every stroke. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back. She remembered Ken fucking her silly. She imagined James fucking her silly. Sorry, Hunter, but there’s no place for you here, she thought.

“Hmph,” she said, opening her eyes.

Laurel’s attention snapped to her. “Something wrong?”

“It just feels wrong to use my hands to move it in and out,” she explained. “Takes away the immersion.”

“Well...,” Laurel said, thinking it through, “Most of them have suction cup bases. You can put those on the shower door and grind into it. I don’t know if the dresser would work. Or you can find a countertop or a big book or whatever if you want to do cowgirl. But, what I like to do - can I show you?” Imogen nodded.

Laurel grabbed a dildo and climbed onto the bed, lying on her back across the lower half. Her dress was tight enough that just opening her legs forced it up around her hips, and she was conveniently already missing panties. Her pussy and thighs were a bit red - the product of considerable friction earlier in the evening.

She shoved the dildo up her pussy and smiled briefly. Then she bent her legs until her heels were right up against her butt and positioned the dildo between them. Her feet held the base of the toy while she began to move - ripples through her body that ended in tiny pelvic thrusts. The toy remained still but Laurel fucked her body onto it.

She closed her eyes, licked her lips, and let herself get lost in the feeling for a dozen strokes before looking at Imogen. “See?” She said almost too softly to hear. “Like that.”

Imogen tried to duplicate her friend’s technique, lying across the top half of the bed but facing the opposite direction. She pulled her legs to her, stuffed the dildo in her pussy, and then tried to grip the end with her heels as Laurel had done. It took a few clumsy attempts, but finally, she managed to settle into the same tummy-rippling fuck motion that Laurel was using.

Laurel glanced over at her, and then, satisfied that her pupil had learned the technique, closed her eyes and retreated to her imagination. What sort of fantasies, Imogen wondered, occur in the mind of a girl who gets any and every guy she wants?

Imogen closed her eyes and fantasized as well. Laurel was right - this was much better. She thought about James - about slipping into his shower in the morning, sucking his dick before he knew what was happening, and then presenting her ass and begging him to fuck her in the steamy enclosure.

Laurel began wheezing melodically. Imogen opened her eyes to watch. The petite young woman’s legs quivered and her pussy fought against the rhythm of the penetration. She was coming, and looking like an angel doing it. Then she relaxed, fell silent, and went back to slowly fucking her toy. There was a two-inch wet spot on the sheets below her.

Imogen returned to her fantasy. She found herself grinding faster. The bedsprings creaked, and she was sure that Laurel could feel the mattress shaking. She let out breathy moans. Her hand flopped around with a mind of its own and bumped into Laurel’s. Right away they were holding each other’s hands. They each opened an eye to peek at the other, and they both grinned at the coincidence.

Laurel’s touch quickened Imogen’s pulse. She didn’t know the cause of it: sharing an experience with a friend? Or was Laurel manipulating her body?

“No magic, okay?” Imogen requested.

“Yeah,” Laurel nodded reassuringly. “No magic.”

Laurel squeezed her hand and Imogen felt energized. She imagined spending a day in bed with James, fucking, watching the snow fall outside through the window, drinking hot cocoa, and fucking some more. She was close. She wasn’t sure if she could get there, but she was definitely close.

Laurel began moaning again - a sweet, innocent whimper. That was enough for Imogen. She drove her hips faster and squeezed Laurel’s hand. Even as her orgasm began she wasn’t sure it was really happening - maybe it was a misfire - until it definitely, definitely happened. She held the toy inside her while her pussy quivered around it. She rolled onto her side in a fetal position with her hands between her legs and she imagined James ejaculating powerfully.

Laurel gave Imogen a moment of privacy before sitting up and looking her in the eyes. “So, good?”

“Doc, I think I’m cured!” Imogen exclaimed. “What did you do, anyway?”

“Well, you had called it a ‘mental block’, but I would call it a ‘spiritual energy block’,” Laurel explained. “Chi, chakra. Those things are real. I just sort of helped untie the knot.” She quickly added a disclaimer: “I didn’t make you come. I mean, I did when I went down on you of course, and I fiddled with the group dynamic when we were all together. But when it was you and Ken, that was totally natural.”

The girls sat up, cross-legged. “I wonder if Ken would want to see me without you there?” Imogen pondered. “A much more boring experience I’m sure.”

“I think he would,” Laurel said earnestly. “You’re amazing.”

Imogen chuckled. “Says the girl who invents magic spells in her spare time.”

Laurel seemed to retreat into herself. “I’m not ... good with boys. I have to trick them into liking me, and then I cheat at sex. I can’t talk to them and hang out with them like you do. I wish I could.”

Imogen locked her sympathetic eyes on Laurel’s. “Laurel, you’re shy. That’s okay. Even if you didn’t have all these amazing talents, lots of men would still like you. Let me see you without your illusion.”

“Um, no,” Laurel said softly but firmly. Her gaze dropped to Imogen’s knee.

“Okay,” Imogen said.

After a moment of silence, Laurel said, “So you’re going to see Ken again? You can do it with Milo too, you know. We’re not exclusive or anything.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll give him a shout,” Imogen said. “Do you think he’s the kind of guy who’d go down on a girl? I’m worried that if it’s not a great experience, I might backslide.”

“I don’t know,” Laurel said. “But you could always take a vibrator with you. There’s no stigma - lots of people use vibrators with their partners for vaginal sex. There’s a vibrating cock ring in there too.”

“I’ve never used a vibrator,” Imogen said. She pulled the basket to her and started looking through its contents. “What do you recommend?”

“The big foot-long wand one with the head like a tennis ball,” Laurel answered. “You can’t go wrong with that.”

The girls lay side-by-side with their knees in the air, sometimes touching, and began stimulating themselves. Imogen’s vibrator emitted a low-pitched buzz; it sounded powerful. It felt powerful, too - she had to be very gentle, just barely touching her skin at first. Eventually, she came to understand the machine and various ways to touch herself with it. Before she knew it she was climaxing out of control. The climb toward orgasm - the building of intensity that usually spanned several minutes of sweaty pounding - whizzed by in just ninety seconds. She was so surprised that she coughed instead of moaning.

Laurel wasn’t coming, but she was far enough along to be wiggling with her mouth hanging open, making whimpering sounds. Imogen turned off the wand and watched her. Her sounds became more urgent and her hips twitched out of control. For a moment she let out a gasp of satisfaction, but then she was right back on the edge again.

Imogen stood up and surveyed her. She was so amazingly beautiful. Imogen wished she wasn’t covered by her dress from the waist up. Her artistic mind wanted to take in the whole of Laurel’s body during this intimate moment. She wanted to paint it. But then, what would the painting look like? As she understood it, Laurel’s beauty was a trick of the mind, not the eyes. Would she be able to capture what people experienced when they looked at her? She suspected that Laurel’s magic far surpassed her artistic skill.

When Laurel decided she’d had enough, she was surprised to see Imogen staring. But she recognized the artistic gaze as part of Imogen’s nature.

“Thanks for hanging out with me,” Imogen said.

Laurel smiled, standing and pulling her dress down. “Any time.” She looked at the bed, stained with her juices. “I’ll get you some fresh sheets.”

---

The sounds of buzzing and moaning had become commonplace over the last few nights. James could barely make them out from his bedroom, but they were unmistakable in the hall. Still, those sounds, and the thoughts that accompanied them, sometimes make it hard to sleep.

James decided he was too hot. He pulled on his sweatpants and went into the hallway to adjust the thermostat just in time to hear one girl coming, and the other giggling, from the guest bedroom.

To his surprise, a moment later, Laurel’s bedroom door opened and Hunter stepped out. Hunter’s eyes met James’. There was a touch of shame in them, but mostly defiance, as if Hunter were daring his father to judge him. He’d probably been whacking off in the Jack-and-Jill bathroom between Laurel’s room and the guest room.

It was hard not to sympathize. Hunter had brought a girl home in hopes of winning her heart, and instead, she ended up in bed with his sister.

Hunter’s eyes dropped down to James’ pants, tenting from a hard-on, and then returned to meet his eyes again. They shared a wordless understanding and then both went back to their own rooms.

---

Laurel was reading in a sunny spot on the floor beneath the window when her phone rang. Hunter and Imogen were hanging Christmas decorations. Laurel scrambled to her bedroom before picking up the video call.

“Update on the rogue mage situation,” Jennifer told her. “The two you ran into had been members of the Rocky Mountain Coven, but they cut their ties in protest of the cease-fire. The Coven understands that they have an obligation here. They’ve got people in your area hunting for the rogues, but no luck so far. They don’t believe anyone else is helping them.”

“Okay, thanks Jennifer,” Laurel said, disappointed.

“I wish I had better news,” Jennifer said with a sigh. “Until this is resolved, keep on your toes, okay?”

Laurel nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

---

James woke up to the sound of a door opening and closing. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep - maybe an hour. The last thing he remembered was hearing the girls’ bedtime sex ritual.

He peeked out of his window to see Laurel in the backyard, dropping her robe and beginning to dance, naked. It must have been very cold out: the condensation from her breath created an eerie glow in the moonlight. She didn’t seem to mind, though, as she began to move with uninhibited spontaneity.

Clover, Laurel’s mother, used to dance naked under full moons. Somehow the dance allowed her to capture moonlight and store it for spells in the days to follow. Back when they were first married, he had always watched her perform this ritual; then when she was done, they’d always make love well into the night. Later, when Laurel was about six, she began joining her mother. Those nights no longer ended in sex, but James did still watch them sometimes, full of pride in his family.

At first, he wasn’t even aware that he was stroking his dick. Watching the dance reminded him of his wife, after all: Clover’s purity, warmth, and endless mysteries. It reminded him of carefree days before children when making love on a whim was a commonplace indulgence.

But, then, even apart from memories of Clover, the beautiful naked dancer before him stirred up urges. Yes, she was his daughter, but on a more primal level, she was a paragon of female sexuality. It was simple biology. Hers was a lithe, healthy, fertile young body. His pulse quickened, his mind grew focused, and his dick got hard. She was breeding perfection and his body responded accordingly.

He stroked faster.

Did Laurel even know what she was doing to him? She obviously used her magic to provoke the appetites of other men. Did it not occur to her to turn it off at home? Or was she intentionally making her father lust for her? Was it possible that she wanted him, sexually?

Or ... Maybe he was just making excuses. Maybe it was all on him: he was weak and sick for reacting this way to his daughter. His little girl.

Right now, it didn’t matter: he was too far gone. It had been too long and he needed it too much. He jerked vigorously while looking at Laurel’s perfect moon-kissed tits, perfect belly, perfect ass. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, and then push her against the wall and watch her face while his fingers entered her. He tried to fight the visions from claiming his mind, but he failed. He imagined her riding him playfully and looking at him trustingly while they both came.

He tried to catch all of his ejaculation in his free hand, but it was too powerful and it ricocheted, making a mess. He went to the bathroom to clean up, making a point to avoid turning on any lights.

He lay in bed, unable to sleep, until the sound of the door told him she had come back inside.

---

Chapter 7

There was some sort of buzz of activity out in the hall, but James was on a critical conference call, so he had to suppress his curiosity for a time.

When he went to check it out, three men were standing outside of Eric’s office in what might have been a queue. Several other people - men and women - were standing around nearby in gossip circles, although their conversations all stopped when he showed up. Eric’s office door was closed and the blinds were shut - normally discouraged by office policy.

“What’s going on here?” He asked, trying to quell the sinking feeling in his stomach. Nobody responded. “Is Laurel in there?” He pressed. Nobody spoke, but their faces gave him his answer.

James opened the door and walked in just as Harrison, the compliance officer, was zipping up his pants. Laurel was on her knees, shirtless, her magnificent breasts covered with a fresh load of come. “Oh, hi Dad. Give me a minute,” she said, turning her back to him and staring down at her chest. Harrison made a quick exit.

“What the hell, Laurel?”

She held up a hand. “Just one sec...” She was examining the semen covering her breasts. This was spermamancy.

“Laurel, what the fuck are you doing?”

She pulled some tissues from a box on the desk and wiped herself clean, and then held her shirt in front of her as she turned to face him. “Okay, don’t be mad. This isn’t ... Well, it’s not for fun. It’s important.”

“What’s so important that you need a line of men at my office waiting to get sucked off?”

“I need to know what’s going to happen,” she told him, seemingly without any feelings of guilt. “I need to be prepared.”

“Prepared for what?”

“I can’t tell you.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Predicting the future is tricky. If you tell people about it you risk changing it. I can’t take any chances that might invalidate my intel.”

“I get that your research project is important to you, but Laurel this is a place of business,” he said, with a raised voice. “Do you have any idea how disruptive you’re being?”

“It’s really really important!” She argued quietly. “Would you rather I go pick up random day drinkers at some seedy bar?”

“I’d rather you stay at home watching TV and texting your friends like a normal girl,” he said in a voice approaching a yell. “I’d rather you not need more than one hand to count your sexual partners!”

Her eyes went wide with shock and her jaw fell open. She turned around and pulled her shirt over her head, sniffling.

Janine walked briskly into the room - a middle-aged woman with fat hips but otherwise quite nice-looking. She spoke authoritatively. “Laurel, go home. James, you’re done for the day. We’re going drinking.” Laurel looked at them both with heartbroken eyes and then dashed out. Janine pulled James’ sleeve out toward the exit. She shouted across the office, “Vicky - reschedule Mr. Reiser’s appointments for the rest of the day.”

It took nearly a whole beer in a business park bar before James was ready to talk. “I can’t believe I said that to her,” he muttered to Janine. “I swore I would never slut-shame my daughter. She was always so shy. I promised myself I would be supportive as she matured into a sexual being.”

“It was only one fight,” Janine replied soothingly. “And she didn’t make it easy on you.”

“It happened so suddenly,” he said. “She left in the summer, and then when she came back two weeks ago there were thongs in the laundry. And semen stains on her underwear.” He finished his beer and waved for another. “She hasn’t been wearing bras. Did you notice?”

Janine smirked wryly. “Everybody noticed.”

“She’s been doing Eric. He’s married,” he groaned.

“Harrison too,” Janine added.

He took a deep breath and looked her in the eye. “It’s worse than that, though. I’ve been having trouble ... I’ve been ... attracted to her lately. I’m such a piece of shit.” He hung his head low. He spoke barely above a whisper. “The other night I caught a glimpse of her naked and I masturbated.”

She put her hand on his. “Look, we’re supposed to pretend it’s not true - that the very thought horrifies us - but every man who has an attractive daughter feels occasional sexual urges toward her. Every man. And when that daughter is as stunning as Laurel? No guy - not even her father - can be blamed for wanting to hit that.”

“It’s nice of you to say,” James began.

“James - how long has it been? Since you’ve been with a woman? Anyone since Clover?”

He shook his head. “About three years, I guess. A couple months before she died.”

“Come home with me,” she offered. “Let me take care of your needs. I’ll be your lover, friend, whore, or whatever you need.”

He looked her in the eyes for several seconds. “Janine, you’re a beautiful woman and a good friend, but no. I’m not ready. I’d feel like I was betraying Clover. And yes, I know, she’d be the first person to tell me to move on.” He shrugged.

She patted his hand. “Okay, but the offer stands. Call me night or day - it doesn’t have to be a big thing.” She took a big drink. “But if not me, seduce one of Laurel’s friends, or make a Tinder account, or splurge on a ridiculously priced call girl. You need a pressure release.”

James half-smiled at the advice he knew he wasn’t going to take.

“Whatever’s going on with Laurel, she’ll get through it,” Janine told him. “She’s a good kid.”

---

“No date tonight?” Imogen asked Laurel. Normally she would have left before dinner or else changed clothes after.

Laurel shook her head, seeming melancholy. “Not tonight.”

“Okay then! Movie night. You pick.”

The kids watched one of Laurel’s favorite rom-coms. James stayed in his office. Once it grew late, Imogen declared, “Bedtime.” To Laurel, she added, “You coming?” Hunter looked like he was trying to thrust his jealousy on them by force of will, but they ignored him.

Once the girls were hidden away in the guest room, Imogen asked a question that had been on her mind. “Okay, so your boobs look bigger than they truly are. But what happens when a guy feels you up? Doesn’t that ruin the illusion?”

Laurel shook her head. “No. It’s about how your brain interprets the sensations. It doesn’t matter if it’s sight or touch or whatever. If someone put a tape measure around my chest, they’d still see the right number. But for most people that wouldn’t cause any dissonance.”

Imogen rubbed her forehead trying to make sense of it all.

“Do you want to feel them?” Laurel offered.

A moment later, Laurel was topless in the center of the bed, with Imogen sitting next to her, squeezing her boobs. She took some time trying to emulate the ways men had touched her in the past. Laurel looked at her appreciatively. “Yeah, those seem like nice plump titties,” she remarked. “But wait. What about boob jobs? You need a certain volume for that to work, right? Would that cause dissonance?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe,” Laurel replied. She got up and rooted around in the toy box, and then handed Imogen a strap-on harness and suitable dildo. “Try!”

Imogen strapped on the dildo over her panties and knelt over Laurel. She lay her faux cock down between Laurel’s tits and squished them together around it. She made a few experimental hip thrusts, but she just wasn’t sure what to expect.

Laurel looked up at her, amused. “Well?”

Imogen shrugged. “I just don’t know. I think you’d need to test it with someone who’s used to waving one of these things around,” she said and wiggled her hips to make the dildo wave and wag.

Imogen removed the harness. “That brings up another question, though. If you were to wear this, could you convince me it was real? Could you become a guy?”

Laurel shook her head immediately. “No. That would be pushing it too far. You’d know something was seriously wrong. I mean, maybe if you really really wanted to believe it...”

A grin slowly crept across Imogen’s face. She held the harness out to Laurel. “Show me. I really really want to believe.”

“I don’t know,” Laurel resisted.

“Please?” Imogen pressed. “I am so incredibly curious about this.”

“Well...,” Laurel hesitated. “I guess. But I’ll need a couple minutes in the bathroom alone. This is tricky.” She took the harness and walked to the bathroom.

“I’ll be waiting for you, lover,” Imogen joked with a wink.

When Laurel returned, she stood there at the bathroom door as if ready to make a fast getaway while Imogen looked her over.

It was weird. Like when Imogen had compared Laurel’s picture to her in-person appearance, her mind fought with itself about what it was seeing. This person was obviously skinny with short red hair. But it seemed like one eye saw a smallish but definitely female breast where the other saw a smooth hard masculine pec. One eye saw a dildo strapped to a girl’s pubic mound while the other saw a man’s eight-inch flesh rod. Her understanding shifted constantly, this way and that, as different parts of her brain weighed in to explain what they were seeing.

It was uncomfortable. Her brain didn’t like being so uncertain. She began to get a headache and feel sick. Her body reacted the only way it knew how: it concluded that she had been poisoned - that a neurotoxin was the cause of the irreconcilable sensations. It wanted her to vomit to purge the poison from her stomach.

“Say something like a guy,” Imogen requested, pushing past the discomfort.

“Uh, hey babe. You’re looking hot. You’ve got me all hard and stuff.” Imogen heard it as Laurel’s soft insecure voice trying to sound like a man, but it also touched a part of her built to react to deep-voiced masculine swagger. She had to admit, it did actually turn her on.

She tried not to think about it. She tried to force the feuding perspectives in her head to stop fighting. She failed, but it brought her a certain clarity. One of those perspectives was familiar to her: it was her artistic mind when she was free from measurements or assignment criteria. It was her mind when she was in-the-zone drawing. She knew how to go there. She eased into it, and her impression of the scrawny young man stabilized. And then she smiled.

“Can you make changes?” Imogen asked.

“A little bit,” Laurel said.

“How about a rusty beard to go with that fiery red top?” Imogen asked.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Laurel said. “Just, um, expect it? I can adapt to that.”

Imogen tried what Laurel had suggested and quickly found herself sculpting Laurel’s appearance. It was an exhilarating new artistic outlet for her. Soon Imogen was looking at a wiry man with red hair and a closely-shaved, slightly darker-red beard. His arms and legs were sinewy. His abs were like a washboard, and a faint trail of red-brown body hair led down from his belly button to his substantial circumcised cock. He wasn’t exactly her type, but he was undeniably sexy.

Imogen slinked from the bed onto her knees in front of the man Laurel was pretending to be. She touched the cock and it felt fleshy and warm. She slipped it into her mouth and it tasted real - salty and musky. She kept her mind relaxed, knowing that if she woke from her artistic trance, the effect would be broken.

She went on and gave what may have been the best head of her life. She loved the feeling of this cock in her mouth. It felt alive; it reacted to her. She looked up at the artificial man’s face. “Is this actually doing anything for you?” She asked with a coy smile.

“Oh yeah - you’re sexy as hell, babe.” The slim red-haired man swept his hand affectionately over her curly hair. “Your mouth feels amazing. Makes me want to bust a nut all over your pretty face.” The man moaned when she got back to work and the cock seemed to pulse eagerly inside her mouth.

Imogen stood up. “Well, Lawrence,” she began. She kissed his wooly jaw, seemingly tilting her head up, even though in the back of her mind she knew that Laurel was shorter than her. “I think that you need to fuck me now.” She dropped her panties on the way to the bed and then sat on the edge with her legs in the air.

“Lawrence” stood between her legs and took an ankle in each hand. Imogen helped line up his cock with her pussy, and then he pressed in, crowding his way inside her engorged love tunnel. She lay back and watched him as he swung his hips forward and back plunging his cock into her. It felt so wonderfully real. His hands were strong on her ankles, and she could smell a man’s sweat.

“Let’s see those amazing tits,” Lawrence suggested. She took off her shirt and bra and played with her breasts for his benefit. “Yeah, that’s it, babe,” he praised her.

Lawrence began to moan while he drilled her. It was an affectation for her benefit, but it was the very sound of testosterone, and it drove Imogen wild. She found herself moaning louder than she should have, “Oh god that’s good! Keep giving it to me!”

“Babe, I think I’m gonna come soon.” She believed him.

“No! Not yet! Keep fucking me!” She urged him. His face looked worried as if he wasn’t sure he could hold back. “Don’t stop! Don’t fucking ... Oh god! Oh! Ahh! I’m coming! Ahh! Oh my god!” Even as she was coming she swore she could feel the warm tickle of semen squirting inside her.

Lawrence pulled out while Imogen was recovering, but he wasn’t idle. He dragged her around on the bed by her ankles. He put her on her side with her ass at the bed’s edge and her legs curled up at her chest. Standing next to the bed, his hands glided over her smooth hip while he considered his next move.

“You want it up the ass?” He asked. Her eyes went wide at the suggestion, and a wave of lust shivered through her, but then she shyly shook her head.

“Alright,” he said as he slipped his cock back into her pussy. “But someday you’ll be begging me for it.” She expected he was right.

He slammed her pussy with both hands resting on her hip for balance. “So fucking deep!” She moaned, out of control. Faint furniture thuds accompanied his thrusts, and he grunted with satisfaction each time. She felt a pleasant but dangerous pressure as he reached deeper inside her than anyone ever had before.

He sucked on a finger and then wiggled it up her ass, and she started coming wildly. And she kept coming and coming, unabashedly screaming with lust. At some point - she wasn’t even aware of it - Lawrence changed position to lying behind her, spooning her, still grunting and thrusting. She turned her head as far as she could and willed herself to stop coming long enough for him to kiss her. Her coming resumed, and he moaned and gushed endless hot phantom come inside her.

She was only vaguely aware of being tucked in and kissed on the cheek, and then seeing Laurel, the beautiful beautiful girl once more, leaving her bedroom.

---

Chapter 8

The sounds of Hunter’s backstabbing sister fucking the girl he loved were especially loud tonight - loud enough to hear from his bedroom on the other side of the house. At first, he started to jerk off, but to his shame, he couldn’t stay hard. He was too upset, so he drank instead.

It wasn’t fair. Mom should have taught him magic too. She had said that she tried everything to get him interested but nothing worked. But lots of parents make their kids study piano or violin even when they don’t want to, because they know what benefits it will bring the children later in life. For fuck’s sake, how could a three-year-old make a meaningful decision about the entire direction of his life? No. Mom blamed it on him, but the truth was, ever since Laurel was born, she was Mom’s favorite: heir to the Monroe Witch family legacy.

If Mom had made him learn magic, he could have protected Imogen from Laurel’s supernatural influence. That had to be what it was - it’s not like Laurel was actually interesting in any way. She had always been a neurotic mess, and now she was a petty bisexual whore, too.

Imogen was probably asleep in Laurel’s arms. He’d bet a million dollars that she was. He found himself walking toward Laurel’s bedroom, silently opening the door, and creeping in.

Imogen wasn’t there - just Laurel. Even in her sleep, she kept her glamour up. What kind of narcissistic insecure crap was that? Using magic to make yourself beautiful in a dark, empty room? She was hot as hell, though. All he could see was her face, hair, and one foot but the shape of the blanket promised sexy girl treasures.

Oh fuck - now I’m hard, he realized. She did that with her magic.

He grabbed his crotch, hoping to make the urges stop somehow, but that backfired. His hand felt too good. He pulled his dick out through the fly of his boxers and gave himself a gentle stroke.

He felt guilty looking at her face. It was fucking unfair for her to put him in this position: she was his sister - he wouldn’t have these thoughts without her magic messing with his head. He looked instead at her foot. Just a foot, and yet he was turned on.

She owed him. She owed him a girlfriend to replace the one she had taken from him. Imogen was supposed to be in his bed every night, moaning his name with satisfaction.

He pulled the covers at her feet. If her foot was sexy, he needed a new word for her calf. He wondered what she was wearing and pulled a little more. Her knee was pure sex appeal. He was giving himself a good hard stroking now - not really thinking about it. He pulled more of the covers away. Her thigh! Fuck!

She squirmed. She was probably unconsciously feeling around for the blanket, but it was easy to imagine her moving like that in response to a lover’s touch. His touch. He could make her wiggle or moan or scream as well as any guy could. God, he needed to come. She owed him.

Laurel’s eyes opened and her arm swept out for the blanket. When she made out Hunter’s shape standing over her, she looked puzzled for just an instant, and then she screamed. It was the loudest, shrillest sound he’d ever heard in his life. The noise stopped as she inhaled, but then she was screaming some more: “GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!”

Hunter dashed out into the hall and shoved his dick into his shorts just before passing his dad coming to check on her.

---

Nobody said a word during breakfast. Hunter was surprised that James hadn’t read him the riot act. Imogen didn’t seem to have a clue what was going on but didn’t want to rock the boat.

Just as soon as James left for work, Hunter sat in front of Laurel and spoke purposefully. “Look, I’m sorry about last night. But it’s your fault.”

Laurel pouted and huffed indignantly. “Hmph - Dad already gave me the blame-the-victim routine. I’m being ‘careless with my magic’ or whatever.”

“Yeah! Damn right!” Hunter said, surprised his dad had taken his side. “You knew I had feelings for Imogen, but you magically seduced her just to spite me!”

“Hunter...,” Imogen said, dripping with kindness, “it was never going to happen between you and me. You know I love you as a friend, but I just can’t see you that way.”

“You’re just saying that because of her love spell,” he told her. “You don’t know how this works - she’s just indiscriminately putting out this love-me-and-fuck-me-aura that’s messing with the mind of every man, woman, and child within ten miles.”

Laurel sneered. “There’s no such thing as a ‘love-me-and-fuck-me-aura’. All I do is make myself pretty - that’s it. It’s just so I can compete on a level field with other girls.”

“Ah, Laurel...,” Imogen said hesitantly, “there’s nothing level about the playing field. You have put yourself at the top of a very steep hill.”

Laurel gasped, surprised that Imogen was on Hunter’s side. “Fine!” She said. “I make myself very pretty. But I’ve earned it! I’ve worked so hard for these skills! So much harder than the girl who goes to the gym every day to make herself beautiful. You have no idea what I’ve been through!”

Hunter scowled. “It’s a fucking love spell and you know it.”

“Like you would have a clue!”

“Then tell me why Dad wants to fuck you?” He challenged. “Do you have any idea how much you’re screwing up his head? How much you’re hurting him?”

Laurel scoffed. “Dad does not want to fuck me.”

Imogen’s face revealed an uncomfortable opinion that she was holding back. Hunter and Laurel both stared until she spoke, quietly and slowly: “I’ve seen the way he looks at you sometimes. I think you do ... affect him.”

Laurel was suddenly frightened. “No!” She said, more to herself than the others. She closed her arms in front of herself protectively.

“Look, Laurel, you owe me,” Hunter asserted. “You ruined my future with Imogen. You screwed with my head and made me attracted to you like you did with Dad. You owe me. But you can make it up to me.”

Imogen watched with silent concern. Laurel stammered, “Wha ... what do you want?”

“I want you to bring Alison back,” he said. “Richard said you were learning to summon demons in Montana.”

“Who’s Alison?” Imogen asked.

“My first girlfriend,” Hunter explained. “A demon, but a good one, mostly. She’s the one who taught Laurel all the magic that Mom wouldn’t.”

Laurel shook her head, shocked by the request. “I can’t. She’s gone. Gone gone!”

“You can do it,” Hunter argued accusatorially. “Little miss once-in-a-generation wonder child. Mom’s favorite student. Heir to the Monroe family legacy. You can do it.”

Laurel shook her head again. “It’s not possible. Nobody could. Mom destroyed everything she was everywhere.”

Imogen broke in. “I don’t understand.”

Laurel took a deep breath and began her lecture: “Usually when we summon demons, we’re not creating something new; we’re bringing something from outside our world into it. And it’s usually only a piece of whatever that entity is. It’s like: imagine you’re a fish in an aquarium. There are humans moving around outside, but you don’t understand them as beings - they’re just colors in the sky, forces of nature. And even if you did see them as creatures, they live in a place where the very nature of existence is different and weird. Incomprehensible. Like, their world doesn’t even have up and down like yours; they’re confined to a two-dimensional plane!”

“But sometimes, a piece of one of those things enters your world. To you, it’s like a weird octopus with five tentacles - a creature all by itself. But really it’s connected to something outside. You don’t know what it wants; its behavior makes no sense to you. Sometimes there are two of them and they seem to act with uncanny coordination like each knows what the other knows.”

Hunter wasn’t too impressed with Laurel’s explanation, but Imogen watched Laurel intensely, getting sucked in as if it were a campfire story.

“But that’s where the metaphor breaks down. Because for the most part, demons need human help to enter our world, and humans who know what they’re doing can, with some effort, push them out again. That’s what we normally do with demons: banish them; push them out. But that’s not what Mom did to Alison. If Alison was a hand in an aquarium, then Mom poisoned that hand. Whatever Alison was a projection of, somewhere outside our world, is dead.”

“Then give me a new one!” Hunter said urgently. “One that looks just like her.”

“Hunter, this is really serious stuff.”

“No! You owe me!” He said, on the edge of anger. “You screw with my head to make me want you, you steal my girl out of spite, and then you taunt me every night with the sound of ... You owe me. I shouldn’t have been in your room last night, but it’s your fault! Now give me an alternative! Give me a way of coping with this bullshit situation you put me in!”

Imogen laid a serious gaze on him. “You’re asking her to summon a demon for you to have sex with?”

“Yeah,” Hunter answered with a nod as if it was the most obviously sensible request in the world.

“Okay,” Laurel said softly. “It’s going to take a lot of preparation.”

---

Chapter 9

While Laurel went shopping for supplies and began her preparations, Hunter cleared out space in the basement.

Laurel had changed into a virginal white dress for some reason. Her laptop was on a stack of boxes in the corner with a handful of magic-related documents open. She also had a tackle box full of weird magical items and ingredients. Over the course of a few hours, she had painted a circle on the ground, not in a continuous line but from hundreds of interconnected glyphs that, from a distance, looked like a solid line. It reminded Hunter of a computer CAPTCHA test meant to discriminate human users from bots. She had placed a few tiny homemade candles spaced around the circle.

The center of the circle contained one thing: an old beat-up futon mattress with fresh sheets.

Imogen kept to herself most of the day, seemingly avoiding Hunter and Laurel, but when it came time for the final countdown she had a front-row seat.

“You should sit,” Laurel told her spectators. “This can be disorienting.”

She burned pinches of different herbs at each of the candles and then withdrew a weird leafy branch with bones twisted into it from her box. Kneeling, she began chanting, which seemed to go on forever. Then, suddenly, there were a few seconds of blinding light and a horrible screeching noise. Hunter felt dizzy and nauseated. He knew - KNEW - that in those few seconds, he had experienced something unearthly and terrible, but it had somehow been blocked from his mind. He knew that if he managed to recall whatever it was, it would be devastating to him, and yet he searched his mind anyway as if picking at a scab.

Crouched at the center of the circle, there was now a beautiful naked blonde woman - seemingly Laurel’s age - with big black bat wings and a serpentine tale. She looked confused and frightened.

Hunter began to stand, but Laurel held out a hand of warning. She walked around the circle three times, chanting and gesturing, for purposes that only she knew.

To a casual observer, the demon in the circle was a copy of Alison, the way she’d been before her transformation and then destruction. She had the same straight sunny-blonde hair and emerald eyes. She had the same slender hourglass girls-gone-wild body of someone who works to stay fit but doesn’t obsess over it. The wings and tail were the right size, shape, and color. But she wasn’t exactly right. Her jaw was a little too wide, her eyebrows too thin, and her nose had the wrong arch. Laurel had screwed up: she was hot, but she wasn’t quite Alison. But then, Laurel hadn’t studied figure drawing, and to the best of Hunter’s knowledge, Laurel had never been intimate with Alison.

Laurel stopped and made eye contact with the girl-demon-thing with surprising confidence. “Demon,” she commanded, “bow before me and acknowledge me as your master.”

The demon girl still seemed confused but she understood this obligation. She approached the edge of the circle and then dropped to her knees, bowing and touching her head to the floor with her arms behind her.

“Rise,” Laurel commanded. Then in a jarring change of tone, she casually asked, “Can you speak?” The demon didn’t seem to understand. “Hmm,” Laurel grunted.

Hunter stepped up beside his sister. His dick was straining in his pants. “It’s safe, right? We’ll figure out how to communicate later. Want to give me some privacy, please?”

“What? No!” Laurel objected. “I’m not sure why she can’t talk, but until we can communicate, she can’t give consent.”

“Oh come on!” Hunter said. “She’s a fucking sex demon - of course she consents!” Laurel made a sour face at her brother.

He rolled his eyes and then dropped his pants. His erection pointed at her, dripping pre-come. “What do you say?” He said to the demon. “You down to fuck?”

The demon looked between his face and cock a few times, and then with a stolen glance at Laurel, she got on her hands and knees on the mattress with her ass facing Hunter. Her tail rose straight up, inviting him to her pink wet pussy.

“That looks like consent to me,” Hunter said. He kicked off his shoes and took off his pants. “Bye!”

“Wait!” Laurel said. She entered the circle and knelt next to the succubus. “You’re not allowed to hurt him, but you don’t have to do what he says, okay? Only let him fuck you if it’s what you want. Do you understand?” The demon looked at her vacantly while she spoke, but then she seemed to look at Hunter expectantly, so Laurel shrugged, stood up, and left the circle.

“Bye!” Hunter repeated. He entered the circle, knelt behind the demon girl, and gripped the tight ass that he had missed for so long.

“This is so fucked up,” Imogen muttered while Laurel walked to her.

Laurel asked, nervously, “Do you want me to come to your room tonight?” Imogen shook her head and then walked up the stairs. Laurel followed uneasily.

Hunter slipped his dick into the demon’s pussy. Even before he began pumping, it sucked him and licked him and enveloped him. Every good thing that could possibly happen to a dick was happening in there. Hunter groaned and pushed himself in balls-deep over and over, embraced by the inhuman cunt.

The demon was into it too. She moaned as he gave it to her. Her body rippled. Her wings flexed. Her tail swept back and forth across his chest. She pushed back into his thrusts greedily. She glanced back at him with hungry eyes.

He was going to make her come soon - it was obvious. “Do me a favor,” he told his partner. “Moan real loud when you come. I want the girls to hear it. I want them to know what they’re missing.”

Whether she understood or not, she wailed. She had an epic orgasm, and he was the reason. And everyone in the house was sure to know. And then he did it again.

He finally lost control soon after her third climax. He was digging his fingertips into her hip and pulling on her tail when he began to gush. Contractions seemed to move upward through her vagina as if it were trying to swallow his come.

When he was done he lay on his back on the mattress, and she curled up with him. Her hands, feet, and tail touched him all over. Her tongue violated his mouth in the best possible way.

After a while, she climbed on top of him with her breasts in his face. While he nuzzled and sucked at them, she rubbed her pussy into his gut. Somehow, even with all that going on, her feet found his dick. While her breasts smothered his face and her pussy dripped on his belly, her feet manipulated his dick, coaxing it hard and rubbing it until he creamed all over them.

The next time, she was on top, looking beautiful and slightly sinister above him. Her tits jiggled while she rode up and down on his cock, like many partners before her, but her wings moved too. It wasn’t a random inconsequential movement - it was an instinctive act of balance as she rose and fell, like a cat’s tail. He rubbed her clit and they came together. She spread her wings to their full extent while the orgasm bliss swept through her and he sprayed semen inside her belly. From the way she looked at him just then, it was obvious that she was grateful for what he had done for her.

After that, she sucked his balls. That’s it - she just sucked his balls until he came. A guy who hadn’t been with a succubus before probably would have been surprised.

He was aching, exhausted, and dehydrated by the time he finally had the willpower to leave her and go to bed. Laurel had left a stack of clothes - obviously for her - at the top of the stairs. Hunter threw them down to her on his way out.

---

For the next two days, Hunter made frequent conjugal visits to the succubus in the basement. James pretended not to notice. Imogen claimed everything was fine, but she seemed to pull away from both brother and sister. Without fully admitting it to herself, Laurel sought to fill the emotional void that Imogen left from the men she dated.

The doorbell rang in the middle of dinner. James, Hunter, and Imogen were having a lively discussion about the intersection of engineering and art, so Laurel got up to answer it.

“So is this really what you wanted? Did you ever even give it a moment’s thought?” It was a middle-aged woman wearing jeans and a sweater. She was clearly very angry. The engine of her SUV in the driveway was still running.

“Huh?” Laurel asked.

The woman spoke condescendingly slowly and clearly. “Did you want my husband to leave me for you, or are you just a size-2 wrecking ball swinging wildly?”

“What? No!” Laurel said. “Eric? No. It was just sex. He’s leaving you?”

“Great - you’ve got an empty head, too. Check one more box.”

“No - he loves you,” Laurel insisted. “He said that you didn’t like sex anymore since the baby and would be happy not having to worry about his needs.”

The woman scowled in disgust at Laurel’s claim. “I’ve never said this to another woman in my life, but you know what? You are a dumb cunt.” She hissed. “You know, one day your looks will be gone. The best genes and the best doctors can’t put that off forever. I hope when that day comes there’s a whole generation of selfish perky little trollops waiting to viciously take everything away from you!”

Laurel shook her head in panic. “No, you’ve got the wrong idea! It was just until school starts. We don’t have a relationship - it was just sex!” At this point, the other members of the household had moved to the living room to watch without getting involved.

“Well, the engagement ring he bought on the way back from the divorce lawyer tells a different story.”

The woman pulled her phone from her pocket and began flipping through pages. “Do you know the statistics about boys who grow up without fathers in their lives?” She asked tauntingly. She presented the phone to Laurel, showing her a picture of Eric with a ten-year-old boy. “School drop-out rate? Drugs? Crime? Did you give any thought at all to how much worse Cody’s life would be because you wanted another woman’s man?”

Tears began to flow down Laurel’s cheeks.

“How many other married men do you have wrapped around your pretty little finger?” The woman asked. “I hear you get around a lot, so I assume you’re destroying other families too. What kind of freakish defect of the soul would lead you to that, I wonder?”

Laurel screwed her eyes tight and pressed her hands into her forehead.

James moved between the woman and Laurel. “That’s enough, Eliza. You’ve said your piece.” He began ushering her out the door.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty to say to you too, James Reiser!” She spat as he led her outside and shut the door behind them.

Imogen’s arm was around Laurel. “Come on. You should lie down,” she said, leading Laurel to her bedroom.

---

The succubus heard footsteps on the basement stairs. Light footsteps: the girl’s. It was about time. She thought about whether she should gussy up with a glamour to sell her play - sunken eyes, brittle hair, skin-and-bones ribs. But no - this girl knew her glamours and she’d see right through that.

Laurel had been crying. There had been some sort of commotion upstairs earlier, but then Hunter came down, so the succubus lost track of time getting it on with him.

“Hunter says you talk now,” Laurel asserted. The demon nodded. “Did he give you a name?”

“Yes, mistress,” she answered. “He called me Maddie. He said I wasn’t worthy of the name ‘Alison’.”

“Do you need food, water, blankets?”

“No, mistress. But it’s very generous of you to be concerned for my wellbeing.” Now she was getting somewhere. Every time Maddie used the word ‘mistress’, Laurel flinched slightly.

Laurel sat down outside the circle. “I accidentally made a man fall in love with me,” she said, seemingly glad for a captive audience. “It was supposed to just be sex. Just until school starts. That’s what we agreed. He wasn’t supposed to leave his wife. I just liked spending time with him. He’s the one who flirted; he’s the one who asked me out. He told me his wife would understand. It’s not my fault.” With a pleading expression toward Maddie, she added, “Right?”

“Mistress is, of course, completely correct,” the demon said deferentially.

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” Laurel muttered. “It makes it sound like I’m a slave owner or something.”

Maddie held back a smile. This was going exactly as she’d hoped. “As you wish, milady.”

Laurel looked concerned. “You don’t think you’re a slave, right? You know you don’t have to do anything with Hunter that you don’t want to, right?”

Maddie made a show of thinking hard before answering. “I would never want to displease milady by refusing her brother’s advances.”

Laurel shook her head, frustrated. “No - you’re free to choose. Any time you want, just say the word and I’ll send you back home.”

“No!” Maddie shouted, alarmed. She immediately fell to her knees and hung her head low. “Please forgive me for my insubordination. Of course, I live or die at milady’s whim.”

Laurel shook her head and explained. “No, I’m not going to kill you - just banish you. You’ll be free - just not here.”

Maddie looked at Laurel but stayed silent, still on her knees. Inside her mind, she was laughing riotously. This girl had serious magic skills, but she was a sucker. She had far too big a heart to be a summoner.

“It’s not the same,” Laurel said to fill the silence.

Maddie stood. “If milady says it then it is certainly so,” she said with obvious insincerity. “But please - allow me to serve you. I will gladly tolerate milady’s brother using my body. I’ll do anything you command. Just please don’t... ‘banish’ me!”

Laurel’s brow furrowed with uncertainty. “No, it’s ... but ... I need to go check some books.” She walked swiftly up the stairs.

Once Laurel was gone, Maddie finally let loose the laugh she’d been suppressing for the whole conversation. The girl was an idiot. Maddie would have free rein in this world soon enough.

She sat down on the mattress and rubbed her crotch. She hoped Hunter would be down again soon - she was hungry for more dick. And when was the father going to finally show his face?

---

Chapter 10

Imogen’s head was in a fog - she felt hungover. She panicked when she realized her situation: tied to a chair and gagged in a mostly empty room with two people, a computer, and various magical writings and implements.

“Did you make the call?” One of them said, sounding surprised. It was a man with a sort of nerdy vibe despite a shaved head, neck tattoo, and sunglasses. He was sitting on the floor leaning into the computer - also on the floor - watching some sort of video.

“No, not yet,” a woman replied. She was right behind Imogen, out of sight.

“How did she find us? The dog?” The man asked.

“Probably our blood,” the woman answered. “No matter - we’re ready.”

Imogen’s mouth was uncomfortably dry and her jaw was sore. The gag was cloth, tied tightly enough to force her cheeks between her teeth. Her back hurt, too.

She had been on her way to see Ken: a nice ordinary hookup with no intractable moral or philosophical questions. She didn’t remember being attacked or anything about how she got here, but she was certain she had been drugged.

“What’s she doing?” The woman asked.

“She just found the boundary of the demon ward,” the man said. “Sorry, doggo - you don’t get to attend this party. Looks like she’s ordering it to hide and wait - we’ll have to take precautions when we leave.”

Imogen struggled and tried to scream. She couldn’t manage much sound and couldn’t move at all.

“Sorry, dear,” the woman said, walking in front of her. She would have looked like an elementary school teacher if she hadn’t been holding a gun. “You should have chosen your friends more carefully.” She turned to her companion. “What now?”

“She’s burning a packet of herbs and inhaling the smoke.”

“Christianson’s?” The woman speculated.

“Mmm, no,” the man replied. “This is...” He knocked on the floor while he thought. “Something South African. I remember studying it. Nothing that concerns us. Alright, she’s heading this way. I’m going to go downstairs to wait for her.”

The man left the room. The woman went back behind Imogen. The chair she was tied to was positioned conspicuously in the middle of the house’s master bedroom, pointed toward the door. She was a human shield. The house was rundown and had clearly been uninhabited for quite some time.

The pain in Imogen’s head throbbed with the heavy beats of her heart. She was scared, for sure, but far more confused. She was powerless in a life-threatening situation. She might die very soon. Yet part of her tried to explain away the danger. Maybe this wasn’t serious at all, but just the wizard equivalent of a simple bar fight. It was an appealing notion despite how unbelievably stupid it was. But why would Laurel charge into a trap if the stakes were so high? Why wasn’t it a SWAT team entering the house instead?

Time passed and the silence grew thick. The woman behind her was stirring - maybe restlessly. “Eldon?” She shouted loudly enough to be heard downstairs. “Eldon, what’s your status?”

After a few seconds, Imogen felt metal pressing into the back of her head. “Laurel,” she shouted, “you’ve got ten seconds to show yourself before your friend loses weight above the shoulders.”

The woman began counting down. Someone was actually counting down the seconds of Imogen’s life. She was going to die. The gun was pointed straight at her brain stem. She wouldn’t feel it - she wouldn’t even know. At one - or maybe zero - she would just be dead.

“ ... four, three, two...”

Laurel sidestepped into the doorway on two, looking as frightened as Imogen felt. Her hands were raised in surrender.

For some reason, Laurel continued the countdown, sort of. “One, one, two, three, five,” she began, barely able to get the words out. Some of her fingers twitched nervously.

The woman joined Laurel in reciting numbers: “eight, thirteen, twenty-one...” Laurel’s hands came down, and she began making grand sweeping movements with her whole body like some sort of exotic dance.

Laurel stopped speaking but the woman continued: “thirty-four, fifty-five, eighty-nine...” Laurel dashed over behind Imogen, and the metal pressure at the back of her head was gone. A moment later the gun slid across the floor toward the side of the room. Thirty seconds after that, there was the unmistakable thud of a body hitting the ground, and the woman stopped reciting numbers.

Then Laurel was at her side, cutting her gag and ropes with scissors. “I am so sorry,” she barely managed to say through rapid breaths.

Once Imogen was free she sprang to her feet. “Holy shit, Laurel!”

Laurel handed her a box of latex gloves. Laurel was already wearing some. “P-put these on before you t-touch anything,” she stuttered.

Imogen blindly obeyed and then looked around. The woman was on the ground, with her hands tied behind her back. Her feet and knees were similarly bound. It wasn’t rope that held her though - it looked like green finger-width bamboo stalks had somehow been tied like rope to secure her. Laurel had a backpack like a high-school kid might use, and there were several more similar stalks protruding from inside.

Laurel opened up the computer, and then she pulled a cordless drill from her backpack. She began laying into the hard drive, drilling several holes all the way through it.

“My phone...,” Imogen muttered, finally thinking for herself. She looked around but she didn’t see it. “Where’s my phone, you bitch?” She asked and stepped on the woman’s face menacingly.

“We dumped it!” The woman quickly offered. “It’s in a garbage can miles from here. Look we were never really going to hurt you. We just wanted to scare her.”

Imogen pulled a phone from the woman’s pocket. Laurel swung her head over, alarmed. “Imogen, no!”

“Laurel, we have to call the cops!” Imogen argued. “They kidnapped me! They have a gun!”

“Please, Imogen, trust me!” Laurel begged. “If you call the police now, they’ll do a drive-by and convince themselves that there’s nothing unusual going on. But then there will be a record associating us with this place.” She was talking a mile a minute, barely intelligibly. “No good can come from involving the police - it will just get innocent people hurt. Please trust me! I have to handle this myself!”

“She’s going to kill us!” The woman on the ground interjected. Imogen turned to look at the woman’s pleading face. “You can’t let her do that. You can’t let her kill us in cold blood!”

She looked back at Laurel hoping she would deny it. Laurel’s face was pleading, too, but there was steel in her eyes.

“Fuck this! I’m calling...”

“Imogen!” Laurel yelled. She began to cry. “One, one, two, three...”

Imogen’s mind was flooded, her attention consumed by the sequence. It was nature’s code, found in snail shells, pine cones, hurricanes, and galactic spirals. It fascinated her like nothing ever had; each number compelled her to find the next. Her obsession was boundless - there was nothing else. For a shockingly long time, she felt great satisfaction exploring the sequence and understanding the nature of the world. When the numbers grew very large it became more difficult to stay on the path, which alarmed her: she had to continue, to reveal more and understand more. She had to concentrate harder - she couldn’t let the truth of the universe slip away from her.

Imogen was finally freed from her compulsion when her mind lost its grasp on the sequence. In its place was a profound feeling of loss. She was alone in the room. The woman’s phone was on the floor, rendered useless by several drill holes.

Halfway down the stairs, looking into the kitchen and living room, she was confused by what she saw. The man and woman were both face-down on the floor, tied up, with a big scary dog-like creature watching them with unwavering attention. The man was gagged but the woman wasn’t. Laurel’s backpack was open on the kitchen counter with a couple boxes labeled “Mushroom Grow Kit” next to it. Laurel had just entered through the back door dragging a giant bag of potting soil which she placed next to four others.

“Imogen, I need you to listen to me, please,” Laurel said after she propped the bag up. She was calmer now, but still obviously distraught. “Take my car - it’s about three blocks down if you take a right out of the subdivision. Drive straight home. My phone is on my dresser. Make a voice-only call to ‘Jennifer Armand’ from my contacts list. Tell her that I found my missing homework. I’ll be home late tonight. Don’t call anyone else.” She walked up and handed her the car keys.

The bound woman spoke up urgently. “Don’t you see what she’s doing? This beast is going to rip us apart! It’ll turn us into pulp, crush our bones into splinters, and then the mushrooms will get rid of any trace!” The man tried to support her, but his gag kept him from forming words.

Imogen took another look around and then laid a contemptuous glare on Laurel. “You were prepared for this! You knew this was going to happen!”

For the longest time, Imogen stared Laurel down, waiting for an answer. When it came, it was barely a squeak. “I had to let it play out. It was the only way I could control the ending.”

“Laurel, this is wrong!” Imogen said sternly, gesturing first at the demon dog and then at the potting soil.

Laurel began crying. “Why are you doing this to me? Why are you making this harder than it already is? They were going to kill us both!”

“We deserve a trial!” The woman on the floor interjected.

Laurel shook her head, tears running down her face. “The courts can’t help. The coven can’t help. Sometimes there’s no one to turn to. Sometimes you have to take care of problems yourself. Please just go home and let me take care of this!”

“We deserve a trial! If you let her do this, you’re just as responsible!”

Imogen regarded the woman, the dog, and Laurel in turn. Then she shook her head and walked out the front door and away from the derelict neighborhood.

---

Chapter 11

Imogen had packed her things and left by taxi for the airport. She had been quite upset, but wouldn’t say any more to James than, “Thank you for your hospitality, but I can’t spend another minute in this house.”

When Hunter came home and heard what had happened, he tried calling her, but her phone went straight to voicemail. He left, driving back to college to meet her.

Laurel looked miserable when she finally came home. When she heard about Imogen, she burst into tears and stormed into her bedroom, refusing to answer James when he reached out to her through the door.

An email from the firm’s Human Resources officer explained that there were three rather serious complaints under investigation - one involving a fistfight. However, due to possible conflicts of interest, both James and Eric were expected to recuse themselves from any managerial decisions.

With a sigh, James grabbed a six-pack and went down into the basement.

He handed the succubus a beer and opened one himself. “My son has left town. My daughter is sulking like Achilles in his tent. I figured I’d better check on you. Need anything?”

Maddie smiled. “Just the usual,” she said, looking at him suggestively.

He chuckled and then gave her a good look. “You really do look like her.”

“Not enough for Hunter’s sensibilities,” Maddie said. “Another way Laurel has failed him, it seems. So you knew this Alison?”

“Mmm,” James nodded. “My first sexual partner. And then in and out of our lives until she crossed the line and messed with our kids. My wife destroyed her.”

“Tell me about your wife.”

Over the span of an hour and four beers, James reminisced about Clover, and to a lesser extent, Alison, the demon he’d spent his early adulthood questing after. After all the beers were gone James fell silent, looking into the face of his first love.

“James,” Maddie said sympathetically, “stop agonizing over the decision you’ve already made, and come in here and kiss me.”

She was wearing a skirt that had presumably come from Laurel’s wardrobe. A skirt was the obvious choice - pants and tails don’t go together. The T-shirt was one he recognized well: it depicted characters from Laurel’s favorite anime from two years ago. She had worn it every other day back when her taste in clothes was simpler. Now it had two vertical cuts all the way down the back to accommodate Maddie’s wings.

He entered the circle and put his hands on her waist. His mind was flooded with both the memory and the reality of feeling a woman’s skin. She moved in close with come-hither eyes, but she waited for him to make the move. He kissed her and his body was overrun by a sort of excitement he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. She wrapped her arms around his head and took control of the kiss as if giving him a tour of every good thing his lips had ever known.

James lifted her shirt, but she didn’t raise her arms. “I want to keep it,” she said coyly. “But you’re welcome to peek!”

He did more than peek. He pushed her shirt up, bunching it in her armpits, and he set about devouring her breasts. With one hand on the small of her back, his mouth and spare hand asserted themselves on her springy soft tits. She giggled approvingly. Then she backed up, pulling him with her until her back was to the magic circle’s edge and the barrier that existed only for her. She leaned against the invisible wall and moaned while he thumbed her nipples and sucked on her neck.

Her hands began working on his belt; he backed up to take off his shoes, pants, and underwear. She watched him with a look of girlish anticipation - the same look Clover used to give him whenever their sex life veered outside of their normal routine.

She dropped to her knees and began to suck him off, and again he felt overwhelming gratification - enough that he had trouble standing. Once the initial daze was passed, he looked down at his otherworldly partner. Clover’s hair had been strawberry blonde: warm yellow with undertones of red. Alison’s hair - and now Maddie’s - had been more of a light golden sunshine. Her slurps sounded greedy and eager as if she were satisfying her own needs without regard for his. He let it happen for a good long while, enjoying her soft luxurious sucks and appreciating her beauty.

He took her hand. “Up,” he encouraged her. She rose, smiling as if eager for his next surprise.

He turned her around and lifted the back of her skirt. Her tail rose to give him access and she leaned forward bracing her arms against the barrier. He put his hands on her hips, and she looked back at him, grinning. Clover had had fertility goddess hips, but Maddie’s were more slender, closer to Laurel’s. He quickly put that thought out of his mind. He inched forward and slowly sunk his cock into her pussy. They both let out long slow “ohh’s” in unison.

“Oh, that feels so good! I’ve needed this so badly!” Maddie said in a breathy moan as if taking the words out of his mouth. He began to thrust into her, treated by inhuman ripples inside her, and she whisper-shouted, “Oh, yes! Yes!”

She moaned melodically, higher and higher, as he pumped her toward climax. When she did come, her moans were punctuated by surprised gasps. When her orgasm subsided she looked back at him with wide eyes and said, “Wow!” In answer, he held her hips tighter and slammed her pussy faster. He had her coming again instantly.

This was all theater, he was aware. She could be any type of sex partner he wanted - she would just know. But he didn’t care. He felt immense pride in making her come, even if it didn’t truly mean anything.

He needed to come. He had needed to come for longer than he could remember, but he wasn’t done with her. He turned her around to face him and pressed her against the invisible wall, kissing her and squeezing her breasts under her shirt. Her wings were spread wide and flat against the magical force field.

He slipped two fingers into her cunt, which she answered with a grateful gasp. He pumped them a few times - just long enough to watch the effect on her face - and then he sucked on them, tasting her broth.

He lifted one of her legs, hooking her knee over his arm, and he penetrated her with his cock again. He lifted her other leg and wrapped his arms around her with her knees beside her chest. She was suspended, seemingly in mid-air, trapped between the magical barrier and his sweaty hard body. He drilled her pussy, making her cry out, making her come. He knew down to his core that nobody had ever made her feel this way before; no man could do for her what he was doing. He also knew it was a lie. She looked at him with amazement before rolling her head back and shrieking with joy, and he felt more confident than he ever had in his life.

It went on and on. Finally, she whispered, “I want to ride you and make you come.” That sounded very good to him.

He lay down on the mattress and she climbed on top of him. Her pussy sucked in his cock and began working overtime with its weird inhuman pressures and motions. Outwardly, her hips moved like a cowgirl riding a bull.

He reached under her shirt and squeezed her breasts. She began to moan again. They were going to come together - he just knew it - but not for a while yet.

“Oh, yes! Oh, it feels so good! Yes, do me! It’s better than I always dreamed! I love you so much! Yes, do me!” She seemed to cry out forever, expressing his ecstasy as well as her own. He forgot about Clover; this was the body he was always meant for. This was the womb he was duty-bound by nature to fill. “Do me! Make me come, do me! Fill your little girl up with semen and make me come!”

The moment arrived and James had no hope of resisting He came powerfully while her waves of pussy contractions sucked him dry. She arched her back and froze in a statue of lust and bliss. His heart thumped and he felt satisfied and peaceful.

That’s when he saw Laurel standing at the base of the stairs, glaring at him furiously. He looked back at the demon woman on top of him. Her hair wasn’t golden: it was a light brown, closer to Laurel’s natural shade. And it was tucked behind her ear on one side like Laurel had worn her hair over the summer when it was longer. And, of course, she was wearing Laurel’s once-favorite shirt. Maddie had made herself look like Laurel.

She hadn’t been saying, “Do me”: it had been, “Daddy.” He hadn’t been aware of it at the time. Or had he?

“Laurel...,” he said and moved out from under the succubus.

Laurel screamed - wordless rage and frustration that split his ears. She walked forward and picked up some magical tool, assumed a deep stance, and began a series of kata-like whole-body movements. Then she stopped. She began a different, simpler set of gestures with words from a strange tongue, but then stopped again. She glared spitefully at Maddie and James for a long moment. Then she made a quick simple gesture and tapped her foot on the magic circle.

“You’re free,” she spat. “Get the fuck out!” Maddie wasted no time scrambling to her feet and toward the stairs. Laurel added with a voice of authority, “If I ever have to come for you, I’ll be coming with a vengeance.”

“Laurel...,” James tried again. She glared at him as if daring him to say another word. He left her alone.

---

Laurel spent the long night awake, haunted by torturous thoughts.

She had tried to call Imogen a few times before remembering that Imogen’s phone was lost. Now that it was morning, she decided to try a video call to her computer. Imogen’s face appeared on Laurel’s laptop.

“Huh. I forgot that’s what you really look like,” Imogen remarked. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I, um ... The thing is...,” Laurel stammered. “I ... How do I know if I’m a bad person?”

Imogen laughed incredulously. “Seriously?!? Laurel, of course you’re a bad person. You’re fucking evil. You deprived all of the men around you of their free will, just to stroke your ego and get you off! You imprisoned a sentient creature to be your brother’s sex slave! You performed premeditated murder! Using me as bait!”

She gave Laurel a chance to respond, but when she didn’t, she went on: “Oh, and by the way, those numbers are still in my head. I can’t stop thinking about them. I can’t stop. So yeah, congratulations on solving the mystery, Laurel: you’re the fucking villain!”

---

There were noises coming from the basement when James began to make his breakfast. He was just sitting down at the table when Laurel came up the stairs. She looked awful, with sunken bloodshot eyes and snarled hair. More significantly, he realized, she looked like her old self, with reddish-brown hair, a modest bust, and a little acne marring her skin. She was carrying a box full of broken magical artifacts that looked like they had been chopped up with a hatchet.

“Looks like it’s just going to be you and me for Christmas,” he said, testing the waters. Laurel nodded humbly.

James’ phone chimed. He picked it up and read the new email. It was from Richard to Laurel, but James was copied. He showed it to her.

To: Laurel

From: Richard

CC: James

I just found out that your publication went live. Everyone is already talking about it. Congratulations on your grand accomplishment!

I know you’re nervous about it, but I’m certain that fame will suit you, in time.

- Richard

Laurel disappeared into the garage with her box and then came back empty-handed. She poured herself a bowl of cereal and sat down to eat breakfast with her dad.

---

To Be Contrinued?

---