Sex and Demons - Spermancy and the Bully Witch

Chapter 1

It felt strange, not having the Earth below her. Laurel had taken plane trips before, but her magic skills had been in their infancy back then. Now it was second nature for her to feel the mystic energies around her, and the Earth’s energies were notably muted at 30,000 feet. Other energies were coming through strong though: the sky up here was in a vast mystic dance like she had never imagined.

She shifted her gaze from the clouds outside the plane to her reflection in the window. She had adopted a new hairstyle for the summer: on the right her autumn-leaf hair hung close to her face before falling down past her shoulders, but on the left it was pinned behind her ear. She had gotten a second piercing, high on her ear, and now wore two studs connected by a chain. It was a little thing but it made her happy - a symbol of her optimism for the summer.

Laurel’s first year of college had been a disappointment, socially. She had only made two friends, and she had been blackballed from the sorority she had tried to join. Romance had completely eluded her, and her one hookup ended very badly. But this summer would be different: she would be studying at an invitation-only retreat with other highly talented magicians her age. She wouldn’t have trouble relating to these people. She wouldn’t have to hide who she was around them. She could be her whole self.

There were other mystical energies churning around inside the plane to which Laurel was habitually attuned: sex. Not actual sex - nobody was doing it on the plane - but with a hundred people in a small space, there were bound to be complex sexual currents flowing among them. Old or young, bold or bashful, some part of every human being is always devoted to sex. There was a woman reading a romance novel: her pheromones were provoking the teen boys in the next row, contributing to their roughhousing. A stewardess and air marshal chatting, skimming the edge of flirtation. They badly wanted each other but each held back, fearing the other’s reaction.

Laurel couldn’t help getting aroused. Maybe someone on this plane would even be one of her fellow students. Maybe the emo guy with the anarchy symbols on his backpack. Wouldn’t it be funny if he were a magical adept, and he wore that persona to mock the mundane world’s silly notions about magic? Maybe they’d meet in a barn and he’d say that he noticed her on the plane. Then he’d take off his shirt. Then he’d take off hers...”

Laurel pulled her backpack into her lap and then, hidden behind it, she slipped her fingers into the leg of her shorts and touched herself. Oh, wouldn’t it be so lovely to fuck the pretty emo boy in the barn? She stroked her pussy as she pictured it.

Fuck the barn! Who can wait that long? Imagine if she just walked up and jumped him now! She would take off her shorts and panties in the aisle and walk toward him aggressively, while everyone watched. She’d unzip his pants and climb in his lap and kiss him to make him hard. Then she’d ride him. Everyone else on the plane would be too shocked to say anything. She’d come, once, twice, three times, but he’d stay strong, until he finally blew his load just as the plane touched down.

A stupid fantasy, she knew, but god she wanted to come. Her wet fingers were flicking her clit, still discretely. No, a better plan would be to grab his hand and lead him to the plane’s tiny bathroom. He’d pull down her pants and take her from behind, the two of them thrashing against every thin wall while he pounded her pussy.

Laurel’s real orgasm began. She stayed silent. Her new hair style helped hide her face. She fought her body to keep it from betraying her secret with some reflexive lurch or gasp. Her empty vagina convulsed and leaked fluids into her panties. Wave after wave of release and joy shook through her, but she kept it a secret.

She looked around but nobody was paying any attention to her. She smiled to herself for getting away with it. She glanced at the sexy emo guy. Not the airplane bathroom - she was spent. But maybe, still, the barn, later.

---

Chapter 2

The Montana ranch house itself was huge, designed with a mix of rustic and contemporary features. It sat on land that had largely been left to nature. There were woods and streams and hills, with countless variety of trees and plants. Laurel wondered what animals she might see there: Moose? Bison? Porcupine?

Laurel didn’t know who her roommate was yet, but two things were clear from the half-hearted unpacking she’d already done: she was tall, and she was messy.

The students waited in the library - some sitting, some standing. Shortly, their teacher arrived. Laurel had only met her once, on the video call to discuss her invitation. The woman had long gray hair down to her waist and a round face. She was probably sixty years old or so. What Laurel hadn’t seen before was that she walked uneasily, with the help of two wrist cuff crutches.

The woman smiled warmly at the group. “My name is Jennifer, and I am your host.” She sat down. “Each of you is here for the same reason: for guided independent study in whatever field of magic interests you. People who know you - people I trust - believe that you have great potential, and they’ve entrusted me to help nurture your growth.” She waved her arm around at the room. “You have one of the greatest independent magical libraries in the Western Hemisphere at your disposal. I’ll be meeting with each of you frequently to guide you however I can. I’m not a master of all of the things you’ll be studying, but I’m a good teacher and I know the contents of this library well.”

She shifted forward, leaning her elbows on the table. “Now, a couple rules. One: No dangerous spells unless I know about them, and only when there’s a non-participant observing. Two: Mandatory breaks. I expect you all to spend at least two hours a day relaxing, socializing, exercising, whatever. People who are too single-minded are a danger to themselves and others. And anyway, this is an excellent networking opportunity for you all.”

There was a twinkle in her eye and a smile in the corner of her mouth as she continued. “And speaking of networking, three: no drama. You’re all young, potent, attractive people, still somewhat in the grips of hormone-fueled lunacy. If you’re going to hook up with each other, be discrete. Screams in this house mean danger, not joy. If you can’t handle that, there are twenty-eight acres out there for you to find privacy. And if there are any conflicts, I expect you to solve them yourselves, like mature adults.”

She scanned the room with her eyes, as if predicting which of her students were going to cause the most trouble.

She went on: “Every few days I’ll be calling a ‘Show and Tell’ gathering, so you can share ideas with each other. Now, dinner will be in fifteen minutes. After that, we’ll be having a sock hop for you to get to know each other.”

The “sock hop” was a dance: the students were encouraged kick off their shoes and dance to 50’s rock and roll. Laurel, for the most part, watched from a corner.

Out of nine students, only three were boys. Two of them were gorgeous. The last was, well, Laurel couldn’t imagine dating a guy shorter than her.

Theo had changed clothes before the dance, into a dressy jacket and slacks. He looked like the sort of guy that bouncers just automatically let into VIP rooms. He had a pompadour haircut and carefully nurtured stubble, with a dreamer’s blue eyes. Once he asked Laurel to dance, but she was too unsure of herself to dance with a guy like that.

Michael was the perfect man, based on his body and his face. He had black hair - long but not long enough for a ponytail - and she guessed he had Native American ancestry, although she wasn’t certain enough to dare mention it. Not that she got a chance - he was constantly surrounded by two or three of the other five girls. It was a joy to watch him dance, though, even if it was with girls she couldn’t hope to compete with.

Ashton was nice - he introduced himself. He was an undergrad university student majoring in biology, like her, so they had a nice conversation about their college education so far. There was some promise of a friendship there.

Some of the girls introduced themselves too. Maxie had a ponytail and glasses, and dangling shimmering earrings that she explained were titanium. Chelle was friendly, and very tall girl - probably six feet or more. Laurel correctly guessed that Chelle was her roommate.

---

Chapter 3

When Laurel met one on one with Jennifer, she explained that she wanted to spend the summer learning about demons: how to protect against them, to bind and banish them, and if necessary, how to control them. This, they both realized, would require that she also learn how to summon them safely. Jennifer assumed that Laurel’s motivation stemmed from her high school experience, when she had been manipulated by a succubus to perform a ritual for her. Jennifer had been one of the mages who had assisted Laurel’s mother in the unprecedented teleportation spell that allowed her to rescue her family.

Laurel didn’t mention her far more recent demon experiences, at college: the demon-sex-plant that she had summoned and that had been stolen from her, and then the incubus that she had summoned to help destroy the plant. The incubus was still at large: she had been unable to control it so instead they made a deal. Now he was living in a sorority house, its sisters his willing harem. Summoning demons, Laurel knew from experience, wasn’t that hard; it was controlling them that she needed work on.

After a few days, social groups began to form, routines were established, and people revealed their characters. Summer practiced yoga every morning in the house’s main foyer. She obviously wanted to be seen by everyone. And who could blame her? She had a strong lean graceful body, perfect in every way, and a beautiful face to match. Summer had copper-colored hair - another reason to be jealous. People sometimes called Laurel a redhead, but the truth was her hair was way more brown than red. Summer’s hair was done in a medium bob cut, like a lawyer might have: a haircut that told people to take her seriously. Laurel had never dared wear her hair short: on her slender body she worried that she’d look too much like a boy.

Toria - not “Victoria” and not “Tori”, she insisted - was from a very old magical family around Greece and Italy. She had classic beauty: big dark eyes, long shiny black hair, long legs, and an hourglass body. Her family, once influential, had recently parted ways with the coven that controlled the Mediterranean, and she delighted in telling people about her family’s political rebellion.

Chelle, Laurel’s very tall roommate, was her only friend so far, so when she waved at Laurel from down by the lake one evening, Laurel joined her.

“Do you know this one?” Chelle asked, beginning a spell by dragging a thread in a large circle on the still surface of the water. “It’s called the Fisherman’s Lens.”

She sprinkled salt over the circle and then worked a spell with words and gestures from a tradition unfamiliar to Laurel. Finally, an image appeared on the lake, upside-down and distorted by the ripples. It showed two people kissing.

“What is this?” Laurel asked.

“It’s a makeshift telescope. See?” Chelle pointed across the lake and up the hill, where, far in the distance, two specs that must have been people acted in concert with the lovers in the lens. The magical lens could only practically be viewed from one angle, so Chelle and Laurel took turns spying on their classmates.

The lovers were Michael and Toria. It made sense, Laurel reasoned, that the two most beautiful people at camp would hook up first. Their kiss ended when Michael dropped to his knees and lifted Toria’s skirt. His face pressed into her crotch and she smiled. She put her hands on his head as if to control him - as if she were forcing him to eat her pussy. Sometimes he looked up at her and they played out power games with their eyes, but he never stopped licking.

Finally they stopped. Michael took off his pants and lay on the ground. Toria removed her skirt and knelt beside him, unrolling a condom on his upwardly-curved cock. She screwed her pussy onto his dick, and then she began moving with powerful, confident movements. She shifted back and forth, tilting her hips dramatically on every stroke like some complex machine. She looked into his eyes and held his hands and fucked him, frequently speaking.

“What’s she saying?” Laurel asked. Her panties were becoming moist.

“I wish I knew a spell for that,” Chelle answered. “Jesus, look at that body!”

Toria took off her blouse, bringing her bra-stuffed melons into view. Michael started talking and making faces at her, as if he were flirting with her, even as they fucked. She leaned forward to give him a kiss and he took the opportunity to unhook her bra. Once she was upright again they intertwined their fingers and she resumed thrusting their bodies together. Her weighty boobs shook enticingly.

“She’s so lucky,” Laurel said. “I wish I was her.”

Chelle answered, “I don’t want to be her, but I’d sure love to take her place. Huh, or maybe not.”

“What’s going on?” Laurel asked.

“He said something to her. She shook her head and said no,” Chelle relayed. “Okay, he’s about to come - you can tell from how he’s arching his back. There it is! Look at his hips! Now they’ve stopped. She just stood up. She looks disappointed. He’s just lying there looking tired while his dick wilts.” She laughed. “That condom’s got like a pint of jizz in it.”

Chelle wove gestures with her hands and the lake returned to normal.

“What was that, like, five or six minutes?” Laurel pondered. “I guess neither of them knows any sex magic, huh?”

“Do you?” Chelle asked with surprise.

“Uh-huh,” Laurel answered, suddenly worried about sounding like a snob.

“Huh. What would you do with it?” Chelle asked.

Laurel flashed a naughty smile. “Well, make it so that he lasted longer than six minutes!”

“You can do that?” Chelle asked, astonished.

“Well, yeah!” Laurel answered, basking in Chelle’s admiration.

“How long could you make him last?” Chelle asked, excited by the notion.

Laurel shrugged. “However long I wanted. Unless he got angry or bored or something. Or really hungry. Or I would let him come but make him stay hard. You can’t do that too many times though. Oh, and I definitely wouldn’t make him use a condom.” She regarded her friend. “I guess you don’t know Pippa’s Prophylaxis?”

“Holy shit, you’ve got to be kidding!” Chelle answered, excited. “Teach me, Yoda!”

---

Chapter 4

When the first Show and Tell was called, Jennifer asked that everyone introduce themselves, talk a little about their lives and what they were studying here at camp.

“I’m Chelle and I’m studying theater arts at Northwestern. But I don’t exactly have the body for most leading roles,” Laurel’s roommate said with a smile that encouraged the group to laugh. “So I’m here working on glamours to expand my options. It won’t help with film, of course, but you might see me on stage as Eva Peron some day.”

Laurel’s turn came around. “I’m Laurel. I’m an undergrad. I want to be a veterinarian.” She added, “I like animals.”

Jennifer coaxed her. “And you’re here...?”

“I’m here studying summoning,” Laurel rushed to answer. “I want to protect myself from demons.”

Next came the beautiful man. “I’m Michael. No college - just studying magic with the family. My life’s goal is to invent a spell. I don’t care what it does, as long as I’m remembered for creating it.”

Maxie challenged him. “That’s impossible - it’s all been done. There hasn’t been a new spell in a hundred years.”

Laurel chimed in, eager to support the most crush-worthy boy at the retreat. “That’s not true! In World War Two a Russian medic invented a spell to treat frostbite!” Laurel looked for confirmation at Jennifer, who nodded.

“Fine, seventy-five years, then,” Maxie acceded.

“Maybe you’re right,” Michael shrugged, “but a guy’s got to have a dream.

Theo was in studying to be an architect. Maxie was interested in memory spells. Toria was working on weather prediction.

“Summer,” the yoga beauty introduced herself. “I’m here practicing haruspicy.”

“No!” Laurel blurted. All eyes were on her; Summer’s were as sharp as knives. “It’s cruel,” Laurel added meekly.

Summer rolled her eyes. “Oh god, you’re one of those,” she said condescendingly.

“What’s haruspicy?” Michael asked.

Summer glared at Laurel, daring her to answer. Laurel froze.

Jennifer answered. “Haruspicy is divining information - predicting the future or uncovering secrets - by disemboweling animals and studying their entrails. It dates back to well before the written word.”

“Look, little miss PETA,” Summer explained like an ill-tempered grade school teacher, “humans use animals. We use them for food, materials, labor, entertainment, science, and yes, magic. I didn’t see you apologizing to that chicken breast on your dinner plate last night. So grow up and lose the attitude.”

Laurel didn’t look anyone in the eye for the rest of the day.

Getting dressed the next morning, Laurel panicked when she found that all of her bras were too dirty to wear. She washed them thoroughly in the laundry room sink and hung them to dry in her bedroom, but she was forced to spend the day with her arms in front of her chest so nobody would see that her A-cup breasts were unsupported.

The next morning her bras were dry, but yet somehow they were still too dirty to wear. Again she washed them in the morning and spent the day feeling exposed. She began to wash them yet again in the evening, scrubbing furiously, until Toria joined her in the laundry room with pity on her face.

The sophisticated European girl looked torn about whether she should say anything. “They’re not dirty,” she finally said to Laurel. “She put an aversion hex on them. Your mind is playing tricks on you.” And then she left.

Laurel fought back the urge to cry - in part because she was being picked on, but in part for being too stupid to spot the enchantment.

---

Chapter 5

Laurel was routinely summoning dozens of wisps every day. It was far too easy, but Jennifer insisted that repetition of the fundamentals was the path to mastering anything. She would prepare a containment circle, call the extra-dimensional balls of light to our plane, she would dominate them, and then she would banish them, over and over.

Michael had been seen slipping away with a few different girls: not just Toria, but Summer and Matisse too, at times. Laurel had no right to feel heart-broken. With so many beautiful women to choose from, he would never make it down to her end of the list. At least she’d never seen Theo with any of the girls - there was still hope there.

Every night Laurel had been teaching Chelle the beginnings of sex magic. Usually that involved both of them in their underwear, so they could touch each other and demonstrate various body energies. When Chelle was ready to actually manipulate another person’s libido, Laurel figured Chelle would practice once or twice and then they’d go to bed, but Chelle was far too excited about her new spell to stop. Laurel tolerated it while Chelle pushed her, inducing more and more sexual desire. Laurel squirmed, rubbing her thighs together, wanting desperately to rush somewhere private and finger herself.

“Stop - stop, please,” she finally said. “I can’t ... It’s too much.”

“I know what you need,” Chelle declared confidently. “Put on your swimsuit.”

Laurel had never noticed the hot tub on an isolated section of one of the house’s decks. It was covered for the summer, but the water was clean and the water jets purred to life like a military aircraft. Chelle’s body was large, but well-proportioned; her bikini suited her nicely. Laurel had a slender body: small boobs, narrow hips. She preferred the safety of a one-piece.

The two girls descended into the turbulent water, and Chelle got right down to business. “I’ve never seen a tub with this many nozzles!” She commented, sending hands and feet to explore around her. “Oh, wait - I think this will be the one.” She shifted to the edge of the seat and leaned forward, reaching beneath her to adjust her suit. “Mmm. Oh yeah, oh yeah!”

Laurel had experimented with a wide variety of sex toys, sometimes even masturbating together with her friends. But those had been true friends - sisters - while Chelle was still largely a stranger to her. However, the magic that she had taught Chelle had repeatedly pushed her buttons - driven her mad with arousal. She tried to mimic her friend’s technique, but found half of her face underwater. Instead she knelt on the bench, elbows on the edge, and moved her hips to zero in on a side-mounted water jet.

Just a little turbulence near her pussy was enough to make Laurel gasp. She spread her knees apart, lowering herself, getting closer. The water pounded on her bathing suit as if knocking on a door. Laurel bit her lip and held her position, feeling her clit stimulated in a way she’d never experienced before. Satisfaction and need swirled together inside her. She wanted to come, but she didn’t want to rush it. She wanted to nurture it - make it strong. Instinct took hold and she began gyrating her hips into the jet. “Fuck me,” she muttered to the sky.

Chelle was taking a more relaxed ride to climax, but she was getting close. Past experiences had taught her how a hand in the right place deflecting the water flow could change the feeling from great to perfect. “Uh-huh. Yeah,” she spoke softly.

Laurel’s restraint was used up. She grabbed the crotch of her suit and held it aside, letting the water strike her pussy directly, tingling/bubbling/thrusting at her clit. Her hips humped the water, given leverage from her hand gripping the tub’s edge. Any second now she was going to come. Chelle was close too - she could feel it. Impulsively, she reached into Chelle’s energy field and linked them together. Their climaxes echoed through each other, a feeling greater than the sum of its parts. Seconds later, both girls flopped, exhausted from their shared orgasm.

“You did something there...,” Chelle observed.

“I’m sorry,” Laurel said with genuine regret. “I should have asked. That was wrong.”

Chelle shook her head and smiled. “No, Laur, that wasn’t wrong. You can do that to me any time you like.” She moved to a seat next to Laurel. She reached for a wisp of Laurel’s wet hair and tucked it behind her ear - an affectionate gesture. “How are you not constantly having sex?” She asked. “Who would ever let you get away when you can make a person feel like that?”

Laurel was at a loss for words. Her search for an answer was cut short when a shadow appeared in the doorway. “So what do we have here, I wonder?” Theo asked, revealing himself.

“We just thought...,” Laurel began, scrambling to think up some excuse - anything other than masturbation.

Chelle spoke at the same time. “Laurel’s been teaching me sex magic. We got so turned on that we had to take care of ourselves and, well ... You probably can’t relate, but trust me, this was the right choice.” Laurel blushed and sunk a little lower in the tub.

Theo pulled up a chair and sat down. “Sex magic, huh? Cool. Don’t let me stop you.” Seeing the girls’ uncertain looks, he added, “I’m just here for the magic, ladies.”

Laurel started explaining the basics of sex magic for her new pupil. Chelle practiced her new arousal spell on Theo, with his permission, finding male sexual energies simpler but more chaotic.

Even as she explained the clinical magical balances of human sexuality, Laurel was strategising. Here she was, talking about sex with her top remaining pick for a summer romance. This was an opportunity! Her biggest fear was that he would pick Chelle instead. Was there some spell that could turn the odds in her favor? Was there something she could say to send Chelle away but keep Theo here?

Reluctantly, she extended her consciousness into his body, and found some unfamiliar patterns. “Theo, are you...?”

“Gay?” He answered with a chuckle. “Like I said, I’m only here for the magic. As pretty as you both are, a tub full of girls wouldn’t normally give me wood, so I guess your spell is working.” He stood up, hard-on pushing his slacks out. “Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, I think it’s time for bed. Come grab me when it’s time for the next lesson.”

---

Chapter 6

Laurel’s demon-summoning work area was a clearing fifty yards away from the house - distant enough for safety but close enough to be watched. At Jennifer’s insistence, Laurel always wore a whistle around her neck, and kept a fire extinguisher near by. Jennifer had also shown her how to craft a hand-held icon to assist with her spell-work.

She began working with more complex summonings. She spent much of the day practicing on a strange creature - something like a furry frog. It was no challenge to summon them either, nor to command. But controlling how they manifested was something new to her: creating one with large eyes or large feet. She even made one with the beginnings of a tail.

Summer walked through her clearing, carrying a shovel and a thick lumpy plastic bag. Apart from her hair, Summer looked a lot like Lara Croft: an enviable chest in a tight tank-top, a lean tight ass in shorts with long tan legs. Instead of a pistol on her hip, she had a hunting knife with a gut hook at the tip.

Summer stopped to regard the four creatures hopping around in Laurel’s containment circle. Innocently, she asked, “So what will you do with them when you’re done?”

Laurel knew Summer was toying with her, but she couldn’t think of any reaction better than telling the truth. “I’ll banish them.”

Summer gasped and put her hand to her face, feigning shock. “How could you do that? They have as much right to live as any of God’s other creatures!”

Laurel looked down from Summer’s gaze. “Well, they’re not exactly God’s creatures,” she tried to explain. Did Summer really not know this already? “They don’t belong on this plane. Banishing isn’t the same as killing. It’s just deleting their physical manifestation in our world.”

Summer put her hand over her heart. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want my physical manifestation in this world deleted.” With that she walked off with a bounce in her step.

“I don’t understand why you’re letting her carve up animals,” Laurel told Jennifer, alone in her office. “Can’t you stop her?”

Jennifer answered calmly. “I could. I could also put a stop to demon studies. A lot of people consider that to be a far greater transgression.”

“But there are so many other forms of divination,” Laurel argued. “My great grandmother was SO GOOD at tea leaves! And my teacher Richard taught me molybdomancy. Why can’t she do that instead?”

The mention of Richard caused Jennifer’s eyes to sparkle with some fond memory, briefly. Her mind returned to the discussion. “Laurel, have you ever seen haruspicy up close?”

Laurel nodded. “My grandmother made me do it once. When my mom got really sick she wanted me to spend some time with Grandma Hillary. You know, family legacy. She made me cut a pigeon open. It was awful!” She shivered at the memory. “I don’t think ... She used to put food out on her back porch for stray cats, but there were all of these empty cages next to the door. I hated it there!”

“So then you know how it works,” Jennifer lectured. “Divination always requires vitality and change. Tea leaves, molten metal, tarot - they all have change, but not a lot of vitality. No culture in the history of the world has ever found a better predictive mechanism than animal sacrifice.” She pushed her reading glasses up on her nose. “With the exception of human sacrifice, of course.”

The next day Laurel was working in her clearing, intent on shaping her otherworldly furry frogs to have horns and tails.

Summer and Michael walked by, hand in hand. They stopped just inside the tree line, unmistakably in Laurel’s view. At first it was ordinary kissing, but then Summer leaned back against a tree and Michael buried his face in her neck, laying a row of sloppy kisses up and down. She placed his hand on her boob and she rubbed her thigh against his hip. Laurel couldn’t hear them, but the shape of Summer’s lips suggested a deep sensual moan.

Michael stopped and they talked, glancing at Laurel from time to time. It was an argument - one that Summer put an end to by lifting up her tank top and pulling Michael’s head into her bare breasts. She held him there and he feasted without resistance, nibbling, biting, sucking and nuzzling. There was so much to do with her big perfect breasts.

Summer unbuttoned her shorts and took his hand. He looked up at her face from his home in her bosom and then glanced briefly in Laurel’s direction, but then he set his attention back to her boobs, offering no resistance as she stuffed his hand down the front of her thong panties.

Laurel knew that they were putting on a show for her benefit - to make her envious and angry. She didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of watching, but she couldn’t resist.

Michael’s hand moved inside Summer’s loose shorts with obvious skill. Soon she was holding him tight and moaning loudly enough for Laurel to hear. He rubbed her pussy and sucked her tits. Her free leg touched his body up and down demonstrating exceptional flexibility. When he made her come, she screamed loudly enough to scare the birds out of the trees.

Laurel thought that that would be the end of it, but Summer opened the front of Michael’s pants and fondled his dick to make it grow. His dick was amazing - Laurel marveled at it. She thought about what it would be like to touch it, taste it, feel it inside her. She wanted to paint pictures of it and tell her friends all about it. Laurel suddenly realized that he had glamoured his cock to make it irresistible, but knowing that didn’t lessen the effect much.

Summer kicked off her shorts and turned around. Her ginger bush was neatly-groomed. She bent over with her feet together and knees straight, folding like a jack knife. She grabbed her heels and held her position. Michael took hold of her hips and slammed her pussy. She gasped and grunted as she received every thrust.

Laurel couldn’t ignore her sexual hunger. She wondered whether Summer’s position made for a better experience for one or the other of them, or was she just showing off her flexibility and balance. She wanted to be Summer so badly! She tried to imagine herself in that position, with Michael’s hands on her hips and his cock slamming her pussy. She knew, though, that she would fall over and embarrass herself. Her pussy begged to be touched, but she wouldn’t give in.

Without ever interrupting her cock-pounding, Summer changed position, slowly and gracefully. Her upper body rose until it was horizontal and then she reached out to touch the tree and steady herself. Then, slowly, one leg rotated up like the hand of a clock until it passed in front of Michael’s face. It was sticking straight up, in a line with her grounded leg. Michael held her leg tight to his chest and went at her with increased vigor. Laurel could see every bit of it: his wet dick going in and out of her pussy. Her labia flapping with the strokes. Her breasts fighting gravity from an unexpected direction.

“Michael, yes! Smash that pussy! Your cock is amazing!” Summer cried out. Then she locked eyes with Laurel and grinned evilly until Laurel looked away.

Summer moaned, and Laurel watched once more. Her intensity mounted and then she popped. Michael came with her, filling up her unprotected pussy. They decoupled. Laurel turned away while they got dressed.

During their whole walk back to the house, Summer grinned and stared Laurel down. When they got close, Summer flicked her fingers, and a wad of Michael’s semen hit the ground at Laurel’s feet.

---

Chapter 7

Show and Tell that day began with Chelle and Theo performing a scene from a play. Normally they were the same height, but her glamour did a good job of making her seem small and weak next to him. Ashton told the group about what he’d learned about the World War Two frostbite spell mentioned at the last meeting.

Summer, instead of talking about her studies, asked a question. “Jennifer? Is it true that you lost the ability to walk from participating in that big teleportation ritual a few years ago?”

Jennifer nodded. “Many of us paid a price - willingly - to pull off a once-in-a-century spell. It’s actually pretty amazing that the consequences weren’t worse.”

Summer spoke again: “Is it true that the whole reason for that spell was because a little girl got herself into trouble, and so her mother had to rush home to fix things for her?”

“Summer...,” Jennifer cautioned.

“Isn’t it fair to say,” Summer pressed on, “that it’s that little girl’s fault that you’re a cripple?”

The look Jennifer gave Summer was enough to make even her cower.

“What Summer is alluding to,” Jennifer said, looking each of her students in the eye one by one, “is the Portugal magic summit, five years ago. Mages from all over the world met to teach and learn from one another. It was unprecedented, having so many highly skilled mages together in one place. We used the opportunity to try some group magic that would otherwise have been out of our reach. One day, Clover Monroe received a text that her family was being attacked by a demon, back in the United States. We abandoned the spell we had been planning and instead attempted the impossible: sending Clover instantly home to deal with the threat.”

Laurel spoke softly. “Reiser. Clover Reiser. Monroe was her maiden name.”

Jennifer nodded at the correction. “Clover Reiser. Laurel’s mom. I don’t think any other living person could have commanded those energies. If it had been me? There would have been seventy-two corpses in a ring around a crater. We all knew the risks, and we accepted them, to help one of us save her family. I don’t regret it for an instant. Actually, many of us would have done it even without the urgency, just to be part of a ritual that ambitious.”

Jennifer forced a smile. “So, who’s next?” When no one volunteered, she said, “Okay, I guess that’s enough for today.”

Summer was the first to rise, walking with her head held high.

“Keep walking, bitch,” Chelle growled at her.

“Dick move, Summer,” Theo chastised.

Summer and her friends went out on the town that night. The rest stayed in and watched bad supernatural films.

“You know what gets me?” Theo complained. The group had started talking about Hollywood cliches about magic. “Is when just being angry is enough to make magic happen. Where’s the respect for the scholarship and artistry? Anyone can get angry. It takes a lifetime of work to learn spellcraft.”

“And what’s with broomsticks for flying? That looks really uncomfortable!” Laurel wondered aloud, smiling for the first time in hours.

“Yeah, I think Baba Yaga’s got the right idea when it comes to flying,” Ashton suggested. “Get yourself a giant mortar and pestle, trick it out with some leather seats and a killer stereo. That’s the way to travel.”

“How about milk turning sour when there’s a witch nearby?” Maxie asked.

“Warts!” Chelle contributed, tickling Maxie. “We’re all covered with big ugly warts!”

“You guys ever heard of night hags?” Maxie asked, giggling and pushing Chelle away. “They’re witches who enter your bedroom at night and sit on your chest, slowly crushing you.”

“That one is based on a real thing,” Ashton explained. “Sleep paralysis. Totally normal phenomenon - happens to like ten percent of people at some time in their life. You’re awake, but something goes wrong switching out of REM sleep and your body is paralyzed. It goes away on its own, but when it happened to me, it was the most terrifying two minutes of my life.”

“That’s what she said!” Chelle joked.

Maxie threw a pillow at her. “Do you always have sex on the brain?” Chelle wiggled her eyebrows in answer.

“Speaking of which,” Theo asked, “do you feel like giving a lesson tonight, Laurel?”

Once Ashton and Maxie learned about Laurel’s private tutoring, they begged to join, so Laurel started over with her new students. They were so enthused that the five of them stayed up nearly until dawn.

---

Chapter 8

The next day, after hours of reading in a new text, Laurel decided to really push, and see how far she could force the shape of a summoned creature. When she cast the spell, instead of the materialization of a furry frog with wings, there was an explosion of vile fluids and viscera. Covered in goo, Laurel checked and rechecked her steps to figure out how it went so wrong. Finally she reviewed her assumptions and checked her summoning circle. It had been sabotaged.

When she opened the door to her bedroom to get her things for a shower, she found Chelle and Ashton sitting on the edge of her bed, naked. Her hand was at work on his package, trying to coax him hard. Laurel had never had romantic designs on Ashton, and yet she was jealous.

“Oh, hey! Glad you’re here!” Chelle said standing up. She towered over her sexual partner. “Can you show me that refractory period spell again? I thought I had it down, but, you know,” she said, gesturing at Ashton’s dick.

Laurel didn’t respond - she just dug in the closet for her robe and picked up her shower basket.

“And when are we going to get to that birth control spell?” Chelle continued. “It should be one of my safe days, but you can never be too careful.”

Laurel sighed and yanked at Ashton’s mystical energies, turning her hands indelicately to help retune his body. Immediately blood began to flow into Ashton’s dick once again. Laurel picked up her things again and dashed out.

“Thanks!” Chelle said apologetically before the door closed.

Laurel deliberately took a long shower, but when she returned to her room, the short man was between the tall woman’s legs, pumping away. Laurel left again after throwing her gut-stained clothes in the hamper.

After dinner, Laurel psyched herself up to confront Summer. She would apologize and reset their relationship - put an end to the animosity.

“Um, Summer, I was hoping I could talk to you,” Laurel said uncertainly.

“What was that?” Summer said impatiently.

“I wanted to apologize...”

“What was that? Speak up!”

“I wanted to say I’m...”

“God, speak clearly!” Summer erupted, stepping into Laurel’s personal space. “I can’t stand this mewling! If you’ve got something to say, say it. To my face. Be a woman!”

Summer’s scorn just made Laurel softer and less sure of herself. She backed away. “I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I...”

Summer talked over her again. “Do you not realize how disrespectful you’re being right now? Putting the burden on me for your inept communication? Didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners?”

Laurel had retreated as Summer ranted, now finding herself curled up in a ball on a dining room chair with Summer standing over her. She looked to Jennifer for help but her teacher watched the scene dispassionately.

Theo put a hand on Summer’s shoulder. Summer spun, knocking his hand away and she pointed a finger in his face. “Jiujitsu black belt, mother fucker,” she warned him before walking away.

Despite her mood, Laurel taught another sex magic class: the others were just too excited, and engaging her academic brain helped Laurel forget about her humiliation. In order to practice, everyone stripped down to their underwear in Chelle and Laurel’s bedroom. There was, necessarily, touching of all sorts, to help identify various body mechanisms. Touching Theo’s abs made Laurel weak in the knees. Feeling his body-energy’s sexual dynamics made her hurt with how badly she wanted him.

The lesson ended when Ashton pulled Chelle on top of him on her bed. It was obvious that their desire exceeded their modesty, and that anyone who stuck around would get a show.

Theo put his arm around Laurel. “Grab your things. You can sleep in my room tonight.”

Laurel wrapped herself up in a cocoon of blankets on the unused bed in Theo’s room, staring at him. He picked up a guitar from a corner of the room and began playing a gentle melody, still in his underwear. She watched, rapt, until he finished his song.

“Do you think, maybe, if I tuned my glamour to look more like a boy...?” Laurel wondered. Theo flashed her understanding eyes and shook his head. “I’m really good with glamours,” Laurel tried again.

“No,” Theo answered. He put the guitar away. “But if I were straight, you’d be my girl.” He shut off the light and climbed into bed. Laurel listened to him breath while he fell asleep. Feeling lonely and still not quite tired, she silenced her phone and, under her covers, watched videos of animals mating.

That night, Laurel dreamed she was back at college. She went to classes, ran into people in the library, had lunch at the student union. But every time she tried to speak, instead of words coming out, she bleated like a goat, and people ignored her.

---

Chapter 9

The next morning, Laurel walked into her bedroom just in time to see Ashton shooting a load on Chelle’s face. He was standing, and she was on her knees, leaning forward enough for her face to line up with his crotch. They were both completely naked, and her hair was done up in twin braids.

“Hey Laur,” Chelle laughed. “Sorry about muscling you out of the room last night. We just couldn’t control it.”

Chelle began to reach for a towel on her bed but Laurel stopped her. “Wait a sec - leave it,” she said. Laurel got down on her knees, nudging Ashton out of the way, and looked at Chelle’s come-covered face, this way and that. The two girls were close enough that an observer might think they were about to kiss, were it not for the studious look on Laurel’s face.

“What’s going on?” Chelle asked, holding still for Laurel.

Laurel stood up and stepped back. “It’s stupid. Probably nothing. Go ahead,” she said, waving to the towel. Chelle had just begun to clean up when Laurel changed her mind: “But do you think you can do that again?”

“Um, not right now,” Ashton said, embarrassed and flaccid.

Chelle sprung to her feet and tossed the towel on the floor. “Let me try! I think I can do it this time!”

Chelle chanted and waved her hands, occasionally touching Ashton’s arms, while Laurel watched. Her spellcraft was clumsy, she made a few missteps, but she did achieve her objective. Blood began to fill up Ashton’s cock, until his eight inches were ready for action.

“Damn, Chelle!” Ashton joked. “If you kill me with sex, tell my parents that my brother can’t have any of my stuff.”

Chelle got back on her knees. “Yeah, I’m sure they’ll want to talk to me when that happens.”

Chelle’s blowjob technique was very regular. She would put her mouth on his cock and move forward and back five times, relying on her tongue to rub his cock head. Then she would retreat and work his shaft with her hand for fifteen seconds. She did this over and over again without ever breaking the cycle: mouth, hand, mouth, hand. When her mouth was engaged, she sometimes made soft swallowing noises. When her hands were at work, she would blow a soft focused breath on his wet tip.

Laurel watched - Chelle’s technique for sure, but also the energies swirling in Ashton’s body and flowing between the lovers. She knew lots of ways to use those energies, but the seed of something new had taken root in her imagination.

The size of Ashton’s boner had been the subject of Laurel’s curiosity for a number of days. She would have assumed that a small man like him would have a small cock, and yet during sex magic classes, she had seen surprised shapes under his shorts. Now she knew: it was kinda big. He also had a hairy chest. It made her wonder what it would be like to snuggle up with him. His body was decently trim, and of course he was a nice guy. Apart from being short, he was reasonably attractive. Not on Theo’s or Michael’s level, but possibly boyfriend material. And Chelle didn’t seem to mind their height difference. Laurel wondered if she might have had a chance to win him, if she hadn’t been hung up on unavailable guys.

Ashton grabbed one of Chelle’s braids and twirled it in her fingers, and then he touched her face. “Fuck that feels good,” Ashton told his partner. “I should write to your ex to thank him for teaching you this.”

“Don’t!” She said, jerking him off and fondling his balls. “He really didn’t have much to offer apart from a dick to practice on.”

“I should thank him for that at least,” Ashton joked. Chelle’s mouth back on his cock was making wet sucking noises. “It feels like thanking you isn’t nearly enough.”

Chelle’s hand moved faster, jerking his skin tube vigorously. “You can thank me with your come,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. Now she began kissing and licking his dick while she jerked him. “Come on, baby! My face is right here, ready for you!”

Ashton seemed to fight to hold it back, and then he exploded all over Chelle’s face again.

“Huh,” Laurel said, taking up position to examine Chelle’s newly painted face.

“What’s this all about, Laurel?” Ashton asked before flopping onto Chelle’s bed.

Laurel remained silent a moment, still examining Ashton’s come splash, and then finally stood up and answered. “It’s stupid. I’m being stupid. I’m sorry to bother you.”

Laurel spent the next hour and a half in the library, researching not demons, but divination. Ejaculations had entropy - they had change - just like tea leaves, hot wax, molten metal, or animal entrails. And sperm had vitality in spades! Why couldn’t they be used to predict the future? Why did animals have to die if jerking men off could accomplish the same thing?

She expected to find an answer quickly. She expected an essay or book chapter explaining why this was a dead end: why it wouldn’t work like it seemed it should. But she couldn’t find any such article. At the same time, she couldn’t find mention of any covens who had ever made it work.

After lunch she conducted the summoning that she had planned with Jennifer. After double-checking her preparations, Laurel waved to Jennifer, sitting on one of the house’s balconies with a rifle loaded with cold iron bullets. She performed the ritual and inside the summoning circle a hellhound appeared. Laurel pacified it, and bound it with a silver chain tied to a leather-bound book and a sprig of mistletoe. Then she removed the containment circle.

The hound was hers to command. She led it at a brisk walk around the glade, as if participating in a dog show. She even sat beside it, stroking its furless clammy skin, but that didn’t give comfort to either of them. This was no dog. The bond between humans and dogs, formed over millennia until it became a part of both species, was absent. Touching this creature felt alien and uncomfortable. Finally she led it back to the summoning circle and dismissed it from the material plane.

Jennifer was quite happy for Laurel’s achievement, but Laurel’s mind was already somewhere else.

Before dinner she asked Chelle and Ashton to let her watch another blowjob and facial. After dinner she spent another two hours in the library. Then, before bed, they indulged her twice more. She promised to explain soon.

---

Chapter 10

“There’s something I don’t understand, and it’s driving me crazy!” Laurel told Jennifer, alone in her office. “I thought up an idea for a new spell - a really useful one! But obviously it can’t work, because if it did people would have been doing it for thousands of years!”

“Please sit,” Jennifer requested. People often found Laurel’s manic energy irritating. “Have you studied calculus?” Laurel nodded. “There was a time when there was no calculus. But then science hit a roadblock: science needed calculus to be born. The time was right: the mathematics community was inspired enough by that need that two separate people invented calculus at the same time. Maybe you’re right, and you just don’t understand what you’re missing. But Laurel, maybe you are the right person at the right time with the right perspective to see what nobody else has before. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Jennifer took a sip of her tea. “So, do you want to tell me about this idea of yours?” She asked.

Laurel’s face turned red. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to her that discussing her idea with Jennifer would mean talking about sex with an old woman.

“Okay, um, it’s kind of embarrassing,” Laurel began. “Sometimes, in my generation, when people have sex - like oral and stuff - sometimes when a man ejaculates..., he sprays it onto his partner’s face.” Laurel told her as if trying to explain an Internet meme to her grandmother. “Or her chest or bellybutton,” she added.

“Your generation ... is that right?” Jennifer teased.

“Well, it’s just, I mean...,” Laurel stammered.

“Relax, Laurel,” Jennifer said with a disarming smile. “We weren’t puritans when I was your age. I’ve sucked a dick or two in my time.”

“Oh,” Laurel said, having trouble imagining it. “Anyway, when a guy comes - that means ejaculate - it’s viscous and heterogenous, so it naturally takes on all sorts of different shapes. And it’s literally a projectile. It’s got life and power and emotion, so, why couldn’t you channel it through a probability filter? Couldn’t that be an effective form of divination?”

Jennifer leaned on her elbows, holding her tea in both hands right below her nose. “Interesting. It does sound like a strong premise. You’d have to develop a whole new lexicon for interpreting the shapes. Did you check the library?”

Laurel nodded. “I couldn’t find anything.”

“I’m part of an email group that might have insights,” Jennifer told her. “Would you mind if I ask them about it? I can leave your name out of it if you wish.”

“Yes, please!” Laurel said. “I’d really like to know where I’m going wrong.”

Laurel began to leave, but Jennifer had parting words. “Laurel, remember: before Edison, there was no light bulb. Before Little Richard, there was no Rock ‘n Roll. Someone is always the first. Oh, and tell Chelle and Ashton to keep it down.”

---

Chapter 11

Laurel had just explained her theory to Chelle and Ashton on a walk around the lake. Jennifer’s network of peers had come up with a number of problems standing in the way of creating Laurel’s spell. Most dismissed it as impossible, but there was enough disagreement about why it wouldn’t work to give her hope. Together, Laurel and Jennifer followed-up with emails and phone calls. They didn’t know how to solve all of the anticipated problems, but they learned where to look for further study.

“Oh my god! How much would you love to rub it in Summer’s face if you came up with a form of divination that made her budding-serial-killer routine obsolete?!?” Chelle said excitedly.

“And that’s why I need you,” Laurel told her. “I’ve done some more calculations. I don’t think the spell can work unless the caster is involved in the sex act. So I need to catch you up on what I’ve figured out so far. From there I’ve got some ideas...”

“That’s not going to work,” Chelle cut her off. “There’s no way I could hope to keep up with you on something like this. I am only an egg.”

“Oh,” Laurel said, the wind taken from her sails. She looked at the ground and thought about other options. Summer hated her, but she did know a lot about divination and she had a sex partner. It was hard to imagine that Laurel could enlist her help though.

“Laur!” Chelle said, smiling, “this isn’t a bad thing! It just means that you need to be part of the sex act!” She took Laurel’s hand, and Ashton’s and put them together. “He thinks you’re cute, you know.”

“You’re beautiful,” Ashton confirmed. He held Laurel’s hand between both of his. “You’re probably the smartest person I’ve ever met. And if you’re right about this, you’ll be making history. I’d walk over glass to help you. A blowjob is much better than walking over glass.”

Chelle pranced in front of them. “That’s assuming you don’t mind sharing,” she said in a sing-song voice.

They walked back to the house. Sometimes Ashton held Laurel’s hand, sometimes he put his arm around her. Chelle beamed like a proud big sister. She left them alone when they got to the girls’ bedroom.

“I guess, um, can I take off your pants?” Laurel asked Ashton.

“Sure, but, would you like to kiss first?” Ashton answered.

Sometimes Laurel thought she missed kissing more than actual sex. It had been the better part of a year since she had done either, and four years before that. When Ashton held her close and put his lips to hers, it was so much better than she remembered. Feeling comforted in his arms and connecting with him as man and woman satisfied an emptiness she had felt but could never name. It didn’t bother her that she was an inch taller than him, although she did wonder what it would be like to kiss him wearing heels.

Laurel took off Ashton’s pants. She took off her shirt, too, not wanting to dirty it with flying semen. His dick, at eye level, looked even more impressive than before. Slowly she approached it and engulfed the tip. Back and forth she moved, swirling her tongue and lips over the crown. After a moment she remembered Chelle’s technique and pulled back to jerk him for a while.

She put her mouth back on it, experimenting with a little suction. She tried rubbing his dick with her cheek. Accidentally, her teeth bumped his shaft. “Sorry!” She said.

She had only ever done this once before, she realized. In her mid-teens there had been plenty of sex toys who had been lucky enough to get some oral foreplay before the main act, but this was real hot human flesh - a lot of it. She hoped he wouldn’t hold her lack of skill against her.

Suck. Stroke. Suck. She coughed. “Sorry!” She said again. Anxiety built inside her. She jerked his cock, gripping harder than she knew. “I’m sorry I’m bad at this! I promise I’ll learn!”

She was about to suck him again, but he stopped her. Ashton dropped to his knees and looked her in the eye. “Hey! Hey. You’re doing fine. There’s nothing to get stressed over. You don’t need to make me come, you know.” He touched her face like a lover.

“Yeah, I kinda do,” Laurel reluctantly argued.

“Okay, for the spell yeah,” Ashton admitted. “But the spell can wait. We can take our time. Unless you want this to be strictly business?” Laurel shook her head.

Ashton sat on the floor, leaning against Chelle’s bed, and pulled Laurel to him. They kissed and his hands roamed over her bare shoulders and arms. He touched her neck, her sides. His fingers drew circles around her bellybutton. Then his hand moved to her breast, over her bra.

“I’m sorry they’re...” Laurel began.

“Don’t even think about it!” Ashton said, putting a finger to her lips. “I prefer petite boobs,” he told her, and pulled her bra strap down off her shoulder. “They just feel better in my hands,” he said, squeezing her exposed breast flesh. “And in my mouth,” he added, lowering his mouth to her chest and sucking as much of her boob in as he could manage.

Laurel moaned and wiggled while he touched her in the most amazing ways. He laid her down on the floor and helped her out of her shorts. He felt the river between her legs. He rubbed her there, slowly, gently, his hand stroking her whole vulva while he cradled her head and kissed her. It was perfect and timeless.

“Do you think the spell would work if we went all the way and I pulled out?” He asked. Laurel nodded. “Would you like to do that now?” She nodded again.

Ashton wasted no time getting rid of her panties. He grabbed a pillow from the bed and put it under her head, and then he moved on top of her. Slowly his cock pushed its way through her engorged tissues. She was tight enough that he wondered if she was a virgin. Laurel felt herself getting stuffed - the wonderful crowded feeling creeping deeper inside her.

“You’re so big,” She muttered as her lover began to move gently in and out. Her pussy was filled with throbbing, thrusting cock and everything was perfect.

After a minute of closed-eyed bliss, Laurel opened her eyes and smiled up at Ashton. Her eyes tracked him as he moved back and forth over her. He smiled back at her and right then she felt something that wasn’t quite an orgasm, but was close.

“Do you want to be on top for a while?” He asked her. She hadn’t thought of it before, but the idea sounded very good. She nodded with a toothy grin.

They rolled, and then she was the one on top, she was the one moving. She controlled the pace, which sped up considerably. The floor began to thump as she pumped her body on his cock - as much of it as she could fit. She fucked him - she was definitely fucking him, she mused. She came, and she kept fucking him. She bit her lip and smiled at him with a confidence that rarely surfaced. She came again.

Ashton took hold of her hips to slow her down. “Laur, I’m gonna come soon. Let me be on top, okay?”

They flipped over again so that he was back on top. Laurel threw her arms out over her head, carefree, and stretched her legs toward the corners of the room. Ashton pumped into her pussy more. “Any second,” he warned her. “Do what you need to do.” She nodded eagerly, and, with some gestures and whispered words, tied his impending life-giving burst to the streams of probability.

Ashton grunted and thrusted into her pussy a few more times, staring into her eyes with need and purpose. Then swiftly, he knelt upright and pulled out, barely grabbing his dick in time to aim it at Laurel’s slender tummy. She giggled as each string of come landed on her.

Laurel lay there, panting. Ashton wiped his dick with a towel that was already crusty with semen. Laurel pointed to her phone in shorts pocket and asked, “Will you take a picture?”

She studied the picture on the phone as well as her come-covered body for quite a while. He wanted to hold her but didn’t want to smudge the jizz that she was so interested in, so he lay next to her, rubbing her thigh.

---

Chapter 12

Laurel had a bounce in her step and a smile on her face everywhere she went for the next few days. She and Ashton continued to fuck. First it was doggy-style, with him coming on her ass. Then reverse-cowgirl, painting her whole back. She got him all the way with her mouth in the boathouse and took it in the face. Another time she blew him on her bed silently while Chelle was in the room on the phone with her mother.

Her laptop hard drive filled up with pictures, notes, diagrams, and scanned pages from Jennifer’s library. She engaged with Jennifer’s friends to work through some of the problems in her way, and spent considerable time in the library learning about all forms of divination.

She even continued her summoning practice, growing bold enough to forgo many of the traditional layers of protection. She would summon a hellhound, subjugate it, lead it through an obstacle course or take it on a walk through the woods, and then banish it when she felt like doing something else. Confidence, she realized, was a key part of dominating demons. That’s what she had been missing a half year before when she failed to control the incubus Hector.

Once, when strolling with a hellhound, the demon dog alerted her to a scent. Laurel bid it to lead and she followed it three-fourths of a mile to a clearing. There was a small John Deere backhoe loader there, an easel with paper and markers, and various arcane tools. The grass was stained with blood. Several trenches had been dug and refilled, a foot and a half wide and a number of feet long: mass graves for squirrels or medium sized birds, maybe. There were two larger holes, filled in, each the right size for a lamb or dog. A third hole that same size was empty, waiting.

As the smell of death invaded Laurel’s nose she struggled with rage, frustration and sorrow. She banished the hound immediately, fearing what subconscious cues it might read from her if Summer showed up just then. She ran back to the house and took a shower.

Laurel waited in her pajamas in the library, casually browsing the Internet. She had just about gone to bed when Chelle and Ashton asked for some private time in her bedroom. That seemed fair: Chelle was nice enough to share her boyfriend, but it made sense that they’d want time alone, too.

Michael showed up in the library’s doorway. He was shirtless and wearing sweatpants. Laurel could make out some of the contours of his package. He looked like an underwear model: youthful, masculine, happy.

“Hey Laurel,” he said with a bit more familiarity than usual. “Is it true that you know a spell that can give a guy a ‘recharge’? You know, sex magic?”

Laurel’s heart skipped a beat. Her nipples stiffened. Michael was Ashton’s roommate. If Ashton was in Laurel and Chelle’s room, then Michael’s room was empty. Was it possible that Ashton had talked her up, and now Michael wanted to give her a try?

“Um, yeah, I can do that,” she said. She stood up and combed her hair with her fingers.

“Thanks, Laur,” he said with a smouldering look.

Matisse appeared behind him, clinging to him like a snake climbing a tree. “Yeah, thanks, Laurel,” she said. She seemed sincere.

“Oh, no problem,” Laurel answered, trying to hide her disappointment. She began casting on Michael, setting his sexual clock forward a half a day.

“Summer really wore me out,” Michael made conversation while he waited. “And then Toria seemed to want to out-do her. Wouldn’t be fair if Matisse had to miss out on her turn.”

Laurel finished the spell. “Okay, that should do it. Have fun I guess.”

“Lucky to have a friend like you,” Michael said as he turned to leave. Matisse waved appreciatively.

---

Chapter 13

At Show and Tell, Summer made a presentation about her stock trading strategy. “The biggest challenge was coming up with a metric to establish and monitor the error on any particular stock,” Summer explained, clicking through pages on her laptop linked to the big screen. “As you know, the more people scrying on any particular question, the less reliable the result. For example, there’s no point in using magic to foresee the winner of the Superbowl, because everybody tries that. The data is hopelessly corrupt. Some stocks are being watched by other sorcerers. Others aren’t. The key is to quantify the discrepancies between the predicted and real outcomes, and invest based on the computed reliability.”

Laurel stared at the graphs in silent horror. Every data point was at least one animal, held in Summer’s hands, soothed by her voice, and then split open by her knife.

“Yeah, well, you better enjoy it while you can,” Chelle challenged Summer, “because pretty soon Laurel’s going to put you out of business.” Laurel shook her head at Chelle, but it was too late.

Summer turned off the computer, clasped her hands, and addressed Laurel calmly. “You’re going to ‘put me out of business’?”

“No,” Laurel answered tentatively. “It’s not like that.”

Chelle jumped in again. “She’s been inventing a new form of divination that could be even better than your psycho-killer-mancy.”

Summer’s eyes looked like a panther’s, stalking its prey. “Please, explain,” she said to Laurel.

“Well, it’s just,” Laurel explained meekly, “there’s a lot of dynamic power in sperm.” Many of her fellow students giggled. “With the right tuning ... You have to compensate for a lot of things, but, you know, maybe.”

Summer looked to Jennifer. “Her initial work does show promise,” Jennifer confirmed.

Summer sighed and shrugged. “Well, you’re probably full of shit. But if Jennifer says you’re on to something then consider me curious. Send me your notes - maybe I’ll have something useful to add.”

By the time Show and Tell was over, Laurel was feeling optimistic. Maybe Chelle had turned an adversary into an ally. Maybe together they could sail through the remaining challenges.

After dinner she was wandering around in the den, not sure whether to join the group for movies, when Chelle and Ashton approached her. “Hey Laur,” Chelle said, just above a whisper, “how would you feel about the three of us sexing it up together tonight?” She nodded. “Good, because Ashton and I have something we’re dying to do to you.”

In Laurel and Chelle’s bedroom, the erotic union began. Laurel would have thought that with two girls and one boy, the boy would be the center of attention. In this case, though, both Ashton and Chelle were worshiping her. They adored every part of her body as they stripped her down, kissing and touching reverently. Laurel swallowed down her insecurities - feelings of unworthiness - and let her friends treat her like a goddess.

Kissing Chelle felt surprisingly good. In this moment, in this context, it was beautiful and comfortable. She lay on top of Chelle while her two lovers caressed her. “No research tonight, okay?” Chelle whispered. “Just fun.” Laurel nodded.

After countless body-to-body-to-body movements, Laurel ended up on her side on Chelle’s bed, with Ashton behind her. Chelle was sitting beside the bed, one hand stroking Laurel’s thighs and the other playing with her bouncy red-brown hair.

“Damn it,” Ashton whispered. “I forgot the lube in my room.”

“We don’t need lube,” Laurel said. “I’m really really wet for you.” Laurel had always been self-conscious about the quantity of her sex-secretions. The idea of needing lube for sex made no sense at all.

Chelle touched her cheek. “The plan, dear girl, is for him to fuck your ass while I finger your pussy,” she said seductively.

“Oh!” Laurel said with surprise but not disapproval. “Um, I can fix that. Get ready.”

She closed her eyes and tapped into Ashton’s bodily machinery. It hadn’t actually been a spell when she had watched the incubus Hector do what she was attempting: it had instead been a part of his demonic identity. But most of the same energies and factors applied, so Laurel was confident she could mimic the effect. She twisted to touch a few of Ashton’s pressure points and spoke some arcane words, and around them built her improvised spell.

Thin slippery pre-come began seeping from Ashton’s dick in an unnatural quantity. “Damn!” He said, startled, but he seized the moment, painting Laurel’s butt-crack. Then, still emitting the slick fluid, he pushed his cock to her sphincter. He pressed and backed off repeatedly, each time with a little more pressure. Finally, he breached her now slippery asshole and slowly worked more and more of his cock inside her.

Laurel was not entirely inexperienced with ass-play. She had been given a diverse collection of sex toys, and over the years she had tried them all. But that ended when she left home for college a year ago. None of her butt toys had been anything like the shape and size of a real penis, and she had never thought to try a regular dildo there. Ashton forcing his big cock deep in her ass was by and large a new experience, full of generally pleasant sensory contradictions. She groaned and tried to relax.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Chelle asked.

Laurel panted and nodded. “I love cock,” she added for clarity.

Ashton fucked Laurel’s ass, slow and steady. His hand touched her hip, making her feel, probably for the first time in her life, that she had a woman’s hips. He touched her ass and her boob and her lips, everywhere making her feel like she was wanted, beautiful.

Chelle slipped her fingers into Laurel’s sex water slide, and chuckled with surprise. To Ashton she said, “You honestly fucked her? How? She’s so tight!” Ashton’s dick throbbed at the notion, forcing a moan from Laurel.

Chelle got to work finger-fucking her friend. Ashton’s dick in Laurel’s ass was steady like the tide, but Chelle’s wrist worked briskly. Not only were her fingers sliding in and out of Laurel’s pussy, but her palm repeatedly bumped her clit. Laurel started coming, and for a while Chelle refused to back off. Three times Laurel came - Ashton could feel each one - before Chelle relented. Laurel panted and recovered. Her ass was sore from squeezing on cock so hard. Then Chelle went back to work on Laurel’s pussy, hard, and didn’t stop until Laurel screamed, overwhelmed with joy.

Laurel looked at Chelle with doe eyes - trusting and vulnerable. Chelle smiled back at her, kissed her lips, and then held her hand. Chelle’s free hand moved to her own pussy. Her fingers sunk in and she stroked her pussy, slowly at first. Laurel watched her, their eyes locked together, while Chelle brought herself closer and closer to climax. Ashton propped up on an elbow to watch her too, still dutifully ramming Laurel’s bum. Chelle came and Laurel squeezed her hand through the climax and the aftershocks.

Then Chelle returned to Laurel’s pussy, working just the clit this time. Laurel fought to restrain her moans while her friends made her come again and again with a confusing mix of sensations.

Chelle sensed that Laurel had had enough, and stopped. She nodded to Ashton, who seemed to understand. “Is it cool if I come inside?” He asked. Laurel nodded.

Ashton rolled over on top of Laurel and fucked her ass more aggressively. She was face down with his whole body weight pressing down on her. She enjoyed the helpless, smothered feeling.

“Bite me?” Laurel begged.

Ashton’s teeth gently gripped the skin on Laurel’s shoulder, and she sighed.

“Harder? Fuck me harder?” She begged.

Ashton did his best to give her what she asked for. The bed groaned and creaked from the force of his thrusts. Laurel moaned. Ashton panted, and then he unloaded in her ass.

As much as Laurel wanted to stay with her lovers, her bladder demanded attention. After cleaning up in the bathroom she ran into Theo in the hall. He tried to hide his jealousy, but she saw it clearly for what it was.

“I wish there were someone here for you,” Laurel told him. She wondered if Theo had ever been a bottom, and whether anal sex feels different for men.

“What are you gonna do?” He said sourly. “The two straight guys have harems, but I get another lonely night with XHamster.”

Laurel was trying to decide what to make of his ‘harem’ comment when he snapped out of his funk. “I’m glad you’re getting some, cutie-pie,” he said warmly.

---

Chapter 14

Laurel hit snooze on her alarm twice the next morning. As she drifted in and out of sleep, her sore butthole gave her an odd feeling of pride. She was happy. She only woke up for real when her dad video-called her.

“Hey, sweetheart. How’s summer camp going?” Her father James asked.

“So good, Dad. I’m so glad I came here!” She replied, smiling to herself at the word “came”.

“So Laurel, you and I have never talked about sex,” he said.

Laurel grinned a toothy grin and chuckled. “Mom gave me the talk forever ago!” She said.

“I know,” he told her, “but there’s a lot more to it than just how babies are made. As you mature, circumstances become more complicated. Decisions take on new dimensions. I want to make sure you know that we can talk about those things.”

Laurel chuckled again. A dad-being-weird moment. “What kinds of decisions?” She asked. She imagined how shocked he would be if they really could talk about sex: if she proudly told him about getting ass-fucked in a three way so long and hard that it left her sore this morning.

“Well,” he said hesitantly, “like the decision to let a partner take intimate pictures of you, and whether that partner can be trusted with those pictures.”

“Oh god!” Laurel gasped.

“So I guess you didn’t know,” James asserted. Laurel shook her head. “I have an alert set up on your name - and your brother’s and mine. There were four pictures posted of you to a porn website. Or maybe they’re fakes - I don’t know. But they seem to be you, naked and, well, lewd; and labelled with your name.”

“Oh god, Dad, I am so sorry! It’s not what it looks like, really! Not exactly ... God, I am such a screw-up!” She said, beginning to cry.

“Hey!” Her dad told her. “You’re not a screw-up, and you don’t need to be sorry. Whatever decisions you make, as long as you’re being true to yourself, I’ll be proud of you. Am I right in thinking that in this case, someone betrayed your trust?” Laurel nodded. “Would you like me to contact the site and have the pictures taken down?” She nodded again.

“Dad? Can we talk later? I really have to go kill someone right now,” she said.

“Okay, sweetheart. You can call me any time,” he said with an encouraging nod.

Laurel threw on a robe and quickly searched for her name. Sure enough, they were the pictures from her research. “Redhead teen slut Laurel Reiser takes load after load!” The captions read.

Laurel planned out an epic confrontation as she stomped through the halls. Summer would be doing yoga now in the living room. Laurel would begin by kicking her off-balance out of whatever weird pose she was in, and then unloading a verbal assault on the surprised girl.

She chickened out of the kick, and the verbal assault was not as strong as she’d hoped. “You are such a mean girl!” Laurel shouted, standing in front of Summer. “Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you?”

Summer held her pose for a moment, and then smoothly flowed out of it before standing up and facing Laurel. “I hate you because you’re weak,” she said calmly. “You’re a cowering child who gets by on pity. You don’t belong here; you’re not as good as any of these people - your mother was. Some day, again, you’ll cry and everyone will make huge sacrifices to kiss your booboo.” She looked around the room of people staring. “And you all are her enablers. You’ll share the blame.”

Laurel ran out into her summoner’s glade, still in her robe. She summoned a hellhound - a big one - and wrapped her will around it like a fist. She thought about sending it after Summer. She considered her justifications, almost convinced herself of her righteousness. Instead she ordered it to attack a fifty year old oak. The beast tore the tree apart.

After an hour in the boathouse trying to calm down, Laurel went to see Jennifer. “Please! Make her go away!”

“Laurel, you and Summer are adults now. Part of being adults means negotiating disagreements - or hatred - on your own,” Jennifer explained. “If one of you were to do something dangerous - like sending a demon after the other - I would step in, if I even could. But words? Pranks? I would be doing my students a disservice by taking sides every time someone’s feelings got hurt.”

“She posted my naked research photos to a porn site!” Laurel raged. “She sabotaged my summoning circle! She’s selfish and mean, and she’s always, like, doing yoga in front of everyone just to show off!”

Jennifer looked at Laurel with frustratingly unsympathetic eyes. “Did you know that Summer is the first mage in her family?” She asked. “Her family is very wealthy, and they knew about the existence of magic. When Summer was born, they hired tutors to work with her every day from before she could walk, so that she would one day master it. Not just magic, but painting, martial arts, economics, law. Her parents molded her to be a modern samurai - a master of all the courtly skills.”

Laurel couldn’t fathom why Jennifer was being so difficult. “So?”

“Try to imagine the pressure of all those expectations,” Jennifer explained. “Think about how isolated she must feel.”

“But that’s no excuse to torture me!” Laurel complained. “I’ve tried apologizing! I’ve tried staying out of her way! She won’t leave me alone! Please, you have to do something! Who else can I turn to?” She begged.

“Who indeed?” Jennifer replied. “Do you think the mundane courts would know how to handle conflicts like you have with Summer? Do you think the Rocky Mountain Coven or the Louisiana Market of Shadows are interested in justice? They’re nothing but corrupt and brutal oligarchs. The harsh reality of the world is that sometimes there is no authority to appeal to. Sometimes you are alone.”

The spectrum of emotions Laurel wore on her face focused to just one - betrayal - and it was directed at Jennifer.

Jennifer preached on. “Try not to think about it for a while. Find a distraction. Maybe a book.” She seemed to search her memories. “Yes, I’ve got a good one for you.” Instead of searching through the bookshelves lining the walls of the office, Jennifer opened her desk drawer and pulled out a paperback. “Here you go.”

Laurel took the book and stormed off.

Laurel began reading the book by the stream far from the house. It did, in fact, distract her from her worries. It was a science fiction novel called Ender’s Game - the story of a child being groomed as a military leader to defend humanity from a distant alien threat. She read outside until the sun went down and there was no more light, ignoring her hunger. Then she read in the kitchen while eating leftovers; and then in the library into the night, until she was finished.

She reflected on the story as she drifted to sleep. Jennifer’s message was clear: fight.

---

Chapter 15

Laurel’s dream-self was standing in a meadow. The sun warmed her, even though the air wasn’t cold. A gentle breeze came and went by its own whim, sometimes carrying leaves and dandelion seeds with it.

A brown rabbit appeared from behind a tree stump and looked at her curiously. She approached it as a friend. She picked it up and petted it - it made no effort to escape. For a time she smiled at it, stroked its fur, and held it to her breast, rocking. A tiny penis emerged between the rabbit’s hind legs.

She knelt and set the rabbit down. It hopped in no great hurry to go anywhere. Laurel stretched, first toward the sky, and then toward the ground, settling kneeling with her elbows on the ground and her knees folded below her. She was naked now.

She looked around for the rabbit, finding it milling around behind her. It was large now - the size of a black bear. Its penis, fleshy and nondescript, was about the size of a liter bottle of water. Laurel smiled, faced forward, and waited.

When it mounted her, the rabbit’s inhumanly-fast thrusting began before its cock ever touched her. At twenty thrusts per second, when it did touch her, it felt like the head of a powerful wand massager bumping her backside oafishly - a blunt ticklish sensation. When the buck finally found his mark, it felt like a whole Hitachi Magic Wand had been thrust up inside her vagina.

Laurel’s teeth rattled from the the cock moving inside her at astonishing speed, but the buck’s paws wrapped around her and its considerable weight pressing down on her kept her from moving. The sensation was far more violent than any toy she’d ever used, but pleasant. Some part of her wondered how it was there was no pain - why she wasn’t being ripped apart, but on another level she understood that this was perfectly natural.

Seconds later, her cunt was filled with a copious volume of thin fluid. At the same time, her rabbit partner fainted, falling to the side and tumbling her with it. Despite her racing heart she felt a serene contentment. She had fulfilled her nature.

She didn’t have long with her afterglow, though, because soon the rabbit was back on his feet, trying to mount her again. She moved back into position to avoid being trampled by her clumsy lover and he filled her up again. It was joyful. Her lover came again, and fainted again. Laurel waited, happy, pondering how many more times her new friend would take her.

When Laurel woke and her mind separated reality from dream, her first reaction was shame. Sure she had had stray thoughts before, wondering what it was like to be a girl bunny or panda or lioness, being mounted and fucked with some particular arrangement of bodies. But she had always banished those thoughts swiftly from her mind. They certainly weren’t welcome in her dreams!

The shame disappeared, by and large, as her mind came into focus and she realized that nobody would ever know. Forgetting dreams was easy. She was very hungry so she decided to put off her shower until after a bowl of cereal.

One wall of the living room was made up of giant windows, floor to ceiling, looking out on the ranch. One of those windows had been vandalized with a marker: It showed a cartoonish mural of Laurel, on her elbows and knees, getting fucked by the giant rabbit from her dream. She was smiling lewdly with rolled-back eyes and a wagging tongue: classic ahegao. A speech balloon attached to her mouth said, “I like animals!”

The dream hadn’t been authored by her - not entirely. She had been violated, and of course, observed.

Laurel said nothing to anyone while she ate breakfast. Her fellow students gave up trying to talk to her, but several kept an eye on her, concerned. She showered, dressed, and went to the library. This time she wasn’t studying demons or divination. This time it was dream magic. After lunch she went trekking in the woods, gathering ingredients. In the late afternoon she borrowed Theo’s car and drove to town to buy additional supplies. Alone, far from the house, she prepared her materials.

In the evening, in a soft deadpan voice, she asked Chelle to stay in Theo’s room for the night.

She laid herself to sleep that night naked, with strips of willow bark woven into her hair. She was warm from the cup of tea she had crafted with ingredients from the woods, the kitchen, and a few stores in town. Beneath her mattress she had placed three owl feathers, carefully arranged. At the foot of her bed she left a jar containing a cat’s breath.

She wasn’t sure if Summer would attack her the same way again, but if she did, Laurel would be ready.

---

Chapter 16

Laurel’s dream-self was on a park bench by a lake. Far in the distance people fished from rowboats.

She stood up and approached a group of ducks, tearing chunks from a slice of bread and throwing it to them to get their attention. The ducks quacked and flapped, advancing toward her.

Laurel took off her skirt, turned around, and got on her hands and knees, offering herself to the birds. They squawked and fought for mating rights.

The victor climbed on top of her with giant webbed feet. It must have weighed two hundred pounds now. It slipped and fell, knocking her over, but then then it quickly stood on her again, forcing her flat on her stomach.

Its penis shot down like a bullet and invaded her pussy. It stiffened as it corkscrewed through secret twists and turns of her vagina that she’d never known she had. The winding and thrusting of the drake’s dick as it made its way deep inside her made her come. It shot its semen straight into her uterus.

The duck on her back was still. Its penis was retracting. Another suitor sensed weakness and bullied him out of the way, and then he took her. All in all, five giant drakes stood on her back, creaking her bones while they had their ways with her, and she came every time.

---

Chapter 17

Summer woke up, at least partly, to an uncomfortable feeling in her arm. She was lying on her side with her arm beneath her.

She tried to reposition her arm, but it wouldn’t move. She must have been lying on it for some time, pinching a nerve or restricting blood flow. She was now fully awake. She tried harder to move her arm, but it still wouldn’t move, so she tried to roll onto her back. She couldn’t move at all. Panic set in. She pushed harder to command her body: to move an arm, a finger, a foot - anything. She wasn’t restrained and there was nothing wrong with her senses: she could feel her arm and her ribs pressing against each other. She could feel one ankle resting on the other foot. She simply had no control over her body.

She was terrified. She fought, and fought, trying to overpower her situation. She knew, somehow, that if she could just start moving, it would all break loose. All she needed was one little wiggle or twitch. Just a finger. But she couldn’t.

How long would she be like this? Was it permanent? What if she could never move again, never speak? She struggled as hard as she could. Her body wouldn’t even let her cry.

She heard movement. Her roommate Matisse was getting up. She could help. Maybe if Matisse could just lift Summer’s arm for her, that would be enough to break free. But then the door opened and Matisse was gone. Every moment was a fresh hell. There was no option to relax or wait. Every moment was struggle, and failure, and despair.

The door opened again. Maybe Matisse had brought help? Jennifer could figure it out - or at least get her to a hospital. Someone sat on her bed beside her: she could feel the mattress shift. “You left a piece of yourself behind - inside me.” It was Laurel’s voice. “I’ll be keeping it.” She got up and left.

Knowing that the little bitch had done this to her didn’t reduce the horror. How far would Laurel really go? How far could she go? What the hell had she done?

Matisse came in again, smelling shower clean. Help, maybe? She was getting dressed. Then she left Summer alone again.

There was no acceptance of her fate, only struggle. This was life or death. Her heart and lungs knew it even if the rest of her body was a stringless puppet. Her brain reacted to adrenaline even if her muscles didn’t. Her blood pounded in her ears. Then finally a ray of hope: she moved her thumb. She moved it more. Then her hand. And then she was free. She was covered with sweat and her chest felt like she’d run a marathon. Shaking, she got dressed.

Everyone was acting normal. Nobody knew a thing. Except Laurel. Laurel was on the floor in the living room poking at her laptop, wearing her stupid little girl shorts and T-shirt, oblivious. Summer could rush her, beat the crap out of her and put her in the hospital before the baby could blink. But then, Laurel would have known that. She was sitting suspiciously close to a window. What if Laurel had one of her beasts outside, watching?

Up the ante. Summer fingered the hilt of her knife. One stroke across the throat would end the bitch. But..., if there were a demon around somewhere bound to her, how would it react? Even without a demon, what if Laurel had some sort of contingency? The little bitch said she was keeping a piece of her - what did that mean? What sort of power did Laurel have over her? Her chest tightened and her legs shook when she looked at the meek skinny child. She was afraid.

She needed to figure it out before she dared do anything. Maybe Jennifer would help her.

---

Chapter 18

Laurel’s tension lifted and the corner of her mouth even hinted at a smile. She had watched Summer’s reflection in the window: she had seen the other girl stare, consider her situation, and then turn away. Laurel had won one battle. That wasn’t enough, though. The lesson from the book was that compassion doesn’t preclude violence. If you have to fight, win. Don’t hold back. Hurt the enemy badly enough to ensure they will never threaten you again. She tried to convince herself that yes, she did have the resolve for the next part.

She tried to turn her attention back to her studies, but found it difficult to concentrate.

“Walk with me?” Theo said, kneeling next to her. He took a sip from a flask and offered it to her, but she refused.

“Ashton says you need more test subjects,” he said as they entered his bedroom. “Different bodies, different energies, extra variables. All that.”

“It would help clarify things, yeah,” Laurel answered, unsure of his intentions.

“I’m a virgin, you know,” he said, sitting on his bed and taking another sip. “Not a lot of guys to choose from where I grew up.”

“That must be so hard,” Laurel answered.

He took another sip. It was mid-morning and he had drunk enough to be buzzed. “So anyway, I’m game if you are. A little alcohol, a little gay porn, and a BJ from friend of the wrong gender. What do you think?” He asked.

“Are you sure?” Laurel asked. The thought of tasting his dick stirred her blood, but she wasn’t sure if this was really the right thing for him.

“As long as you don’t mind me calling you Steve,” he joked. “It’s just so frustrating! I just want to know what it’s like, even if it’s not with the man of my dreams. I trust you. But only if it will help your research.”

“I’d like that,” she said, smiling. “I guess you don’t want to kiss or anything?” He shook his head.

Theo took off his shoes and pants. Laurel began peeling off her shirt, but then stopped. “Is it okay if I take off my shirt? I don’t need to - it’s just easier to read when it’s on a flat canvas.”

Theo put up his hands and winced, turning away. “Oh no, boobs! My kryptonite!” He joked. Laurel finished baring her chest and Theo considered her. “You should show those puppies off more often. They’re nice.” She smiled.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Theo held up his phone and began watching a video. Laurel knelt between his legs and watched his cock grow until it was ready, and then slipped it in her mouth.

She was more confident with her oral now, and Theo’s cock was a more manageable size than Ashton’s, so she was able to paint it with her tongue, rub it with her cheek, touch the sensitive head all over. She even took it to the back of her throat, sometimes, but not quite enough to risk gagging.

Theo groaned and moaned while Laurel pleasured him, eyes fixed on the screen held a foot over her bobbing head. The men from his video were certainly more vocal than guys in any straight porn she’d ever seen. She wanted to moan or purr, something to let him know that she was enjoying the experience too, but she reasoned that a woman’s voice would break his fantasy.

“Oh dear god,” he grumbled, when she sucked his balls for variety.

He wasn’t ready to come yet, so she knew she had time. She stood and pushed her hand on his chest, laying him down on his back, and then she climbed on the bed and knelt over him. She went back at it, giving him the warm smooth feeling of her mouth on his crown again, but faster.

She fondled his balls, and contemplated putting her finger in his ass. She had read about prostate massage, but never tried it. Is that something a male partner would do to him? Would it be in bounds for the rules he had set, or was that more than just a blowjob? Maybe it was something he’d rather save and experience with someone he loved. In any event, poking his P-spot might cause him to come unexpectedly, ruining his orgasm for research. She would be okay with that - he could come anywhere in or on her, any time he wanted - but he had said “only if it helps”. She decided to stick to the basics of sucking and stroking his cock.

He was still watching the video, holding his phone straight up over his head while she gurgled on his cock, and he touched her head. It made her feel important. He moaned urgently, his cock pulsing in her hand. “Oh. Oh. Gonna come soon,” he declared.

As one they got up from the bed. He stood, leaving the video behind. She leaned in on her knees to give him a few final sucks with all her love, then she jerked him until his ejaculation was inevitable. Strings of come leapt from his dick like ballet dancers and splattered on her tits.

He took a picture of her on her knees, come-splattered, with a smile of joy and friendship. Then she cleaned up.

“Damn,” he said, gasping. “I need a boyfriend.”

Laurel stole a kiss from his cheek, and then hugged him as tightly as she could before leaving.

---

Chapter 19

In the evening, Jennifer asked to see Laurel in her office.

“I’m so impressed with you, with the research you’re doing,” Jennifer began. “It’s truly remarkable. I wonder, though, if you’ve thought of where to go from here?”

“What do you mean?” Laurel asked.

“I figure you’ve got enough data now that you could publish your ideas - possibly anonymously - and walk away, if you wanted. The mage community would pick up the ball and continue to refine your spermamancy while you go and live whatever sort of life you want.”

Laurel frowned at Jennifer’s suggestion.

“That’s one option,” Jennifer re-asserted. “Another is that you go back to college, work on your degree, get a boyfriend or two, and casually continue to refine your spell here and there as time and your sex life allow. But you’ve got a lot work still before it’s a practical technique. That approach could take years, and you might find splitting your attention frustrating, particularly when complications like breakups slow you down.”

Now Laurel had a different frown - one she wore when thinking through problems.

Jennifer went on: “Or you could dedicate yourself to this project. You could stay here, maybe, post your findings, collaborate with the independent masters, and go all out. You’d have to ‘date’ a lot of men - most likely non-mages, although I suppose you could try get volunteers from magical families by spreading the word. Either way, you would be sucking a lot of dicks for the craft.”

“The final option, as I see it,” Jennifer concluded, “is to try find a patron in one of the big covens. They’re tyrannical busybodies but they’ve got a lot of resources. Who knows, maybe they would get into a bidding war for you. They could set you up with an endless supply of anonymous volunteers: picture a hospital-clean glory hole, with rubber gloves and surgical scrubs. But you’d have to play by their rules, with meetings and deadlines and confidentiality agreements.”

Jennifer could see Laurel thinking, but she clearly hadn’t connected the dots to the big issue yet. “Most of those options will earn you quite a reputation as a slut - in the mundane world, or magical, or both. People will say horrible things about you, some of which will be true. You’ll probably be called a boyfriend-stealer or home-wrecker. People will discount your research, saying it’s just an excuse for wanton behavior. That reputation will follow you through your whole life, and some will spill over onto your friends and family. What you’re doing is amazing, but there will be significant costs.”

“I have to think,” Laurel said. Jennifer nodded. As Laurel began to leave, she asked, “Would my mom be ashamed of me?”

Jennifer shook her head. “She would be so proud.”

---

Chapter 20

Laurel’s alarm went off. 5:00 A.M. She snuck out into the hall and toward Summer’s bedroom. The doorframe was marred by dozens of glyphs carved by knife. They weren’t important. She entered.

Matisse wasn’t there. The mattress was missing from her bed. The hardwood floor around Summer’s bed was, like the door, ruined by carvings. The bed knobs were all carefully adorned with bloody thumbprints. There was a ritual candle made from animal fat burning on the bedstand. Laurel snuffed the candle and dismantled the one spell that was a nuisance to her.

She pulled the covers from Summer, positioned her face-up, and straddled her middle. Her position pulled tight on Summer’s T-shirt, stretching it across her braless chest so that, even unaroused, her nipples showed prominently. Laurel leaned forward and combed Summer’s hair with her fingers. With Laurel still in her pajamas, an observer might think they were about to witness a scene from lesbian porn.

“Maxie told us about these things called ‘night hags’. That’s where I got the idea for this,” Laurel explained. After she was sure Summer was awake, she got up and got to work.

She started with an aversion ward on the door. Other students would subconsciously find excuses to avoid the room. Then she began dragging and pushing on Summer’s limp body to position her: face-down on the bed with her legs hanging over the side and her ass sticking out. She put pillows under Summer’s hips and head, guessing at what would make her most comfortable. Then she pulled Summer’s panties down and left them hanging on one ankle.

It took a couple trips in and out of the room to bring Laurel’s supplies in, and then she had to shift some furniture around to make room. After burning some wood shavings, she commented, “Don’t you just love the smell of sandalwood?”

After preparing layers of spells, Laurel began her invocation, chanting just loudly enough for Summer to hear and understand. Briefly there was a nauseating flash and unearthly thump, and then a brand new hellhound stood in the center of Laurel’s circle. She cast two more spells to bind it and give it purpose.

Laurel watched for a while as the demon dog, freed from the circle, explored its surroundings. Some of that time was spent investigating Laurel, the closet, and the door. Mostly, though, the creature was curious about the naked human girl offering her ass to it. It sniffed at her pussy, breathing loudly and touching her butt cheek with its cold wet nose. It jumped up on the bed and sniffed her breath, face to face, and then dug its nose briefly into her armpit, before jumping down again.

Laurel bid the creature to sit, and then she sat on the bed next to Summer. She took hold of Summer’s wrist, checking her pulse. It was beating faster than Laurel could count. Laurel lay on the bed next to her face to face, even though Summer’s eyes were closed.

“Look, I really don’t want to be cruel. I don’t - I hate this! I just don’t know what else to do to make you leave me alone,” she explained. “So you need to leave. If you’re here tomorrow morning, you will be raped for hours by a hellhound, and it will probably impregnate you. Okay?”

Laurel’s breath became uneven - emotional. “Why ... why did you have to do this?” She whined. “I’m sorry that I made a fuss about your haruspicy! I tried to apologize! You just...” She took a deep breath. “Well, if there’s anything I could have done to keep it from coming to this, I’m really sorry I didn’t do it.”

She sat up on the bed. “Anyway, I’m going to let you go. So please just go away, okay?” She sat quietly for a time, and then banished the beast and left the room.

At 10:20 A.M., the doorbell rang and a man in a chauffeur’s uniform asked for Summer. Nobody had seen Summer all morning, so Maxie went to check her bedroom. Summer emerged from her room carrying her suitcase. She was dressed but un-showered: her hair and skin looked as if she’d spent hours at a gym. She walked swiftly, stumbling once, keeping her head down.

“You’re leaving?” Michael asked.

“Summer, what’s going on?” Toria questioned. Summer didn’t reply.

Everyone was quiet as Summer’s limo drove her away from the ranch. Maxie was the first to speak. “You know what? Party tonight! Theo, I need your car to go buy a keg. 7:00 at the lake? Wear your swimsuits!”

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Chapter 21

“So you’re the new alpha bitch around here, I guess?” Michael said, stepping next to Laurel, beer in hand. She giggled and blushed at the characterization.

All of the remaining students were at the party, around a bonfire next to the lake. They were all in swimwear. Theo and Maxie, on their trip into town for supplies, had picked up a bikini for Laurel that she absolutely loved. It was blue with a bandeau top and lots of texture. It made her feel pretty, and now the handsomest boy was talking to her.

“What did you do to get rid of Summer?” He asked without judgement. She had been getting the same question from everyone all day, but she always just smiled and shrugged. Ashton and Maxie had put some of the pieces together, though, from the battlefield remnants left in their bedrooms.

“Well, the woodland creatures of Montana owe you a debt of gratitude,” he said, accepting her silence. They stood next to each other sipping their beers listening to music for a time.

“So this divination project of yours: it’s the real deal?” He asked. “You’ve actually created a new way to foretell the future?”

“I think so,” she said. “It still needs a lot of work.”

“I would love to play any part in that that I can,” he told her. “If I can ever ... contribute, let me know.”

“You’d let me blow you?” Laurel asked.

“Or ... whatever,” Michael added with a wink.

“Really?” Laurel asked, more excited than she’d wanted to reveal.

“Come on,” he said, and led her with an arm around her shoulders. She grabbed her jacket as they left the party.

Michael took Laurel to a lone tree at the top of a gentle hill with a rope-and-plank swing hanging from it. They could still hear the music from the party, so they swayed as they held each other. His body pressing against hers was dynamic, as if he were exploring every place that they could connect. It felt the same when he moved behind her, but also, once her top was removed, his hands squeezed and rubbed her breasts and tummy. Her nipples’ whole reason for being was in his fingertips. When he slipped a finger inside her bikini bottom he seemed to be asking a question. She answered by grinding her ass into his crotch.

After helping her out of the rest of her bathing suit he sat her on the swing. Playfully he spread her legs. “You have a very cute pussy,” he told her.

“Is ‘cute’ good?” She asked, grinning.

He rubbed her thigh. “Can you think of a better word for a pussy than ‘cute’?” He replied. “‘Brave’? ‘Educated’? ‘Gourmet’?”

“‘Savage’?” Laurel suggested.

He laughed. “I’m pretty sure Savage Pussy is the name of a punk band.”

His head sunk and his face disappeared between her legs. He began licking her wet, wet pussy. She held the ropes and looked up at the stars while he treated her. The swing rocked gently back and forth. He licked her tirelessly, making her feel electric. She picked out constellations in the sky as if they were people she could shout to, “Look at me! Look at how lucky I am!”

“I’m gonna come,” she said sweetly.

“So come,” he teased. She hadn’t expected him to object, of course, but that little affirmation made her libido leap. She gripped the ropes tightly while her hips did loop-de-loops. Or at least that’s how it felt.

He had her well on her way to another one by the time her mind cleared. She wanted to see his face. “Can I have you inside me now, please?” She asked.

He stood up. “Well, since you said please.”

With Laurel’s legs wrapped around him, Michael entered her snug welcoming pussy. The swing swayed forward and back while they fucked and she kissed his sticky face in a mad fury. “I want to fuck you ‘til the stars go out,” she whispered.

More kisses. More thrusts. More hands all over their naked bodies. “You feel like turning around?” He asked after a while.

“Okay,” she said, not knowing what to expect.

He laid her face-down on the seat of the swing, well-balanced and comfortable, and then he ramrodded her pussy. It was like a roller coaster how they fucked. In, out, in, out. Sometimes he smacked her ass. Her legs kicked at empty air. His vigorous thrusting would push her higher until he had trouble keeping contact, but then he’d grab the ropes and lift his feet and ride with her, throbbing inside her.

Laurel gave up all modesty. She laughed and moaned like a lunatic while she came, knowing that her friends at the party would hear her.

“Fuck,” Michael said, slowly walking the swing to a stable position. “Oh fuck!” He groaned. He pulled out just in the nick of time and coated her ass with a new research sample.

At Laurel’s request, Michael took a picture of her come-covered ass, although it took a few tries to get one where the flash didn’t bounce harshly off of her pale skin.

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Chapter 22

Two days later at Show and Tell, bikini-clad Laurel lay on a table with a fresh load of Michael’s jizz on her belly, inviting the other students to take a good look and ask questions. She almost correctly predicted the top card of a recently shuffled deck: she read the signs to mean the Jack of Clubs, but it was really the King.

The meeting had just ended when her dad returned her phone call. They made small talk for a while before she got to what she really wanted to ask. “You know how Mom sometimes talked about ‘the family legacy’? What did she want from me for that?”

“Sweetheart,” James replied, “she didn’t want anything from you. Only for you. Her mother and grandmother put a lot of pressure on her about the family legacy. She was proud of her family, but often pretty conflicted. As far as she was concerned, the family legacy was giving you the best education possible from the time you were a baby, so that you could be whoever you wanted to be, witch or not.”

“I get it,” she acknowledged. Then she asked, “Would you still love me if I were a prostitute? If sex were my job?”

“Wow, that came out of nowhere,” James remarked. “Yes. Absolutely. I would help you look for alternatives, if you wanted them, but if that was your choice, I would be proud.”

After a moment of silence, James pressed. “What’s going on?”

“I want to take a semester off from college,” she blurted. “I want to stay here with Jennifer and work on my new spell. It’s sex magic, sort of, so I’m going to have to be sexual with a whole lot of guys and everyone will know and call me a whore to your face, but oh my god, Dad, it’s so exciting and it could be revolutionary and save thousands of animals a year from gruesome deaths.”

“I’m not sure I follow all that,” James said, “but if it’s something you’re this excited about, I’m behind you one-hundred percent.”

“I mean, a whole lot of guys,” Laurel stressed.

James chuckled. “I understand.”

“And Mom wouldn’t be too disappointed?”

“I’ll come out and visit you. You can tell me what you need brought from home,” James told her. “It’s time we had our first father-daughter beer together. I’ll tell you about the time your mother saved the world at a four day cruise ship orgy.”

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Continued in Spermamancy Theory and Practice

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