Black Opal Magic

He stroked my cheek. He leaned down.

"I know this is difficult. But it's so very important. My people need you."

His voice was so soft and soothing. I reached for him, and let him roll me onto my back. I put both my hands on his heart as he used me. His cocks reaching somehow deeper still, invading and taking what they wanted, filling me in both holes while I tried to hold on.

This time, when he came, tears were streaming down my face. He withdrew from me. My stomach was bloated again, distended, and sore. He wiped away my tears, kissing each cheek and murmuring something in that ancient language.

I rolled over onto my side again, and drifted off. When he woke me up again, I was in pain. My whole body hurt. My breasts were half again as large as they had been when I left the rental house. My joints hurt.

"Sit up," Lucas said.

I shook my head, but when he reached out, I sat up and let him touch me. He climbed onto the bed, and kneeled behind me, holding my waist.

He leaned down to kiss my neck, my shoulder and my ear.

"I'm so grateful," he whispered. "Let me help."

"Help what?"

"Reach out and hold onto the post, I'll get behind you."

I couldn't understand how that would make anything different. But I did it, reaching for the post and letting him position me so that my hands were just higher than my head. My heavy breasts hung down and my back swayed. He lifted my butt, spreading my legs and then reaching between them.

He slid his cocks into me. The one on top, that had previously been in my vagina, was now going into my ass. It was thick and iron hard and I shuddered. But I didn't feel the pain I was expecting. His bottom cock now slipped into my pussy, thinner and with just a little give. He pumped in and out a few times, slowly and easily.

Then he stroked my back and sides, pulling me toward him as he pushed his hips in, then stroking up as he pulled out. He moved his hands around, in long strokes, from my back to my sides to my front. His cocks worked in me, giving me that sensation that I shouldn't have had time to miss or crave, but I did.

I shuddered and orgasmed over and over. Tears streamed down my face, and I babbled unintelligibly. He picked up his pace, thrusting faster and just as deep. Then he leaned over and cupped my breasts. His large hands barely covered the tips. His palms formed around my nipples and he squeezed slightly.

The pain disappeared. The pain disappeared and I shattered into a thousand pieces. I passed out from the pleasure. When I came to, I was on my side again, head on the pillow and the comforter wrapped around me.

Lucas lay behind me, one arm draped over my stomach, which was protruding once again. I stirred, turning to look at him.

I started to ask him how many more times. But something in his eyes told me not to. When he leaned down to kiss my forehead, I fell asleep.

The next time he entered the bedroom, he used my mouth. I sucked one of his cocks, while he teased his other with his hand. When he emptied into my throat, he pulled out and I did the same with the other. There was a challenge in his eyes that made me turn away.

In the following session, he took my mouth again. But this time, both of his cocks filled my throat at the same time. I turned on my side and tried to use the tricks I'd learned. I licked between his pricks trying to swirl around one glans and then the other. He held my hair and pulled my head back and fucked my face. I gagged and sputtered and when I glanced at him, I saw some of the same rage that I'd seen in that cop's eyes. It startled me, because he'd been so kind and gentle to this point.

Just as his balls started to contract, he pulled out and rolled me onto my back. With one quick thrust he was deep in my throat again, and I reached out to grip his thighs. He leaned down, brushing the pendent stuck to my chest with his fingers, and I climaxed. Then he reached out, spreading my pussy lips with one hand and placing two fingers on my clit.

He didn't move his hands. He fucked my face mercilessly. But as soon as he touched my clit, a tidal wave of orgasms rolled over me, like a line of thunderstorms crashing one after the other. I was wrecked. I couldn't see or think; I couldn't move.

I don't even remember him cumming. I just remember him withdrawing, pulling out abruptly and leaving me gasping. My head was still hanging off the bed when the door to the room slammed shut. I managed to curl up, waiting for my stomach to flatten down and my breasts to swell even more.

He came back, and kept coming back, and used my body to unload more of his seed or his essence into me. Each time, my body took it in and filled my breasts. I could feel the liquid in them. The skin tightened, stretched, tightened some more. My nipples darkened, and areolas contracted to keep them erect. Some sessions made me cry. Most left me in pain. But all of them also left me wracked with an overwhelming kind of pleasure and wonder that I'd never come close to experiencing before.

I stayed in that bedroom, drifting and mostly asleep unless Lucas was fucking me. Strange images filled my head, half remembered dreams, pieces of someone else's memories. Memories of fires and volcanoes, of war and famine, of leading armies and slaying enemies. Memories of fine houses, exquisite cuisine, luxuries and riches.

I don't know how many times he unloaded in me. I only know that the last time was just before sunset. I was sprawled in the middle of the bed, spread eagle, my chest already heaving from the weight of my breasts. He climbed onto the bed and I could barely see him. His cocks looked even bigger and angrier than usual. Both of them looked longer, purpling with trapped blood, already weeping precum.

He kneeled between my legs, then picked up my ass to rest it on his thighs.

He said, "Give me your hands."

When I reached toward him, he picked up one of my legs by the ankle and moved it toward my hand.

"Hold onto this."

He did the same with the other leg, so now I was holding myself open for him. He pushed my feet back, almost folding me in two.

"Watch. See what you can do now. See what you've become."

He held both his cocks in one hand, pressing them together. He pushed both cocks into my pussy, splitting me open, my labia dragging against his shafts as he worked his way in. As thick as an arm, longer than a foot, his pair of dicks reached deep into me. He pushed and pushed and I watched, dumfounded, as my abdomen rounded, stretched, and accommodated them. He pushed in and in and in, until his balls rested on my butt.

He looked at me, triumphant. I watched his cocks moving, of their own accord, undulating inside me, the tips alternating thrusts, even as the rest of his body was still. I started to panic and cry. This was too much. I'd reached a breaking point. I felt like my mind was going to snap and my body was going to crack open, literally. But I couldn't look away either, and I couldn't deny the growing pleasure I was feeling as each of his cocks moved against the other, as each shifted in me in concert, each one of them alive somehow, independent somehow.

As my breath was coming in short huffs and I verged on hysteria, Lucas reached down and touched my clit again. That small motion set off a chain of orgasms so strong I forgot to be scared. I forgot to wonder at what I was experiencing. I could do nothing but ride the wave as my body shook and shuddered and every muscle contracted and then relaxed. My eyes rolled in my head, I dropped my legs, now falling, inexplicably wide to either side of Lucas's body.

When he orgasmed, I thought I'd been hit with lightning and then dumped in an icy pond. Fire bloomed inside me and consumed my organs, and just as quickly a chill washed over me and left me shivering. Lucas leaned down and whispered in my ear.

His language was ancient and profane and cryptic, and its every syllable and tone soothed me. He covered me with his warm body and let his cocks soften and slip out of me slowly. He whispered and sang softly and I cried tears of joy and relief. He stretched out and cradled me in his arms. I rolled onto my side, resting my head on his chest, and slept the sleep of the righteous.

When I woke up, I was standing in front of the mirror, looking at myself. Only I wasn't looking at myself. I was looking at her. Or she was looking at me and herself. I looked in my eyes, and they weren't mine. They were darker, bloodshot, and larger.

My body was different too. My ribs showed clearly, my hip bones stuck out, my stomach was concave. My skin was pale. My hair too, was different, a brighter red than my usual auburn, and stick straight. It was longer too, falling nearly halfway down my back. Of course the biggest change was my breasts. Enormous wasn't the word; like there were basketballs stuffed behind my nipples. They were perfect orbs, jutting out from my chest, the top curve even with my collar bone. They touched together over my sternum and my skin was taut and white; balloons one breath away from bursting.

The pendant had changed again. It was now a flat disc, almost the size of my palm. I could clearly see her portrait, either etched in the stone, or somehow showing through the stone, etched in the metal underneath and lit by the iridescence of the opals.

As I looked at the pendant, the face in the portrait moved, looked directly at me and smiled. She had fangs.

Then Lucas was behind me. He was dressed impeccably in his dark suit, gray shirt, and wingtip shoes. He encircled me with his arms, wrapping one tightly around my waist, and letting the other forearm lift up my tits.

He bent to kiss my neck and I relaxed back into him. He kissed my jaw and my cheek as his hands swept gently over my skin. The last vestiges of discomfort vanished each place he touched. Once again he caressed my breasts and then pressed a finger to my clit. Once again I was caught up in wave after wave of pleasure and desire.

"I'm so proud of you," he said.

I nodded. I was proud of me too, but I couldn't have told him why.

"You're utterly magnificent. My people will be so grateful. They'll be so happy."

"I'm glad to be of service," I said.

"It's time. We have to be there before midnight."

"Of course."

I turned to face him, and he took my wrists in his hand. As soon as the heels of my palms met, the bracelets reformed again, linking together and creating a binding. Because my breasts were so large, my elbows rested on them while Lucas finished the binding with a dark red rope. I held the tail end of it and folded my arms so that my bound hands rested against one cheek.

He led me out of the bedroom. We stopped at the coat rack and he put the cloak on me, fastening the neck and letting it drape down. Then he pulled a blindfold out of his pocket and covered my eyes. He put plugs in my ears, and tied another cloth around my head. Sound was muffled and I couldn't see at all.

He picked me up and carried me down the stairs to a car. He set me down while he opened the door. He helped me into the car, then I felt the car shifting as he got in the other side. I relaxed back into the seat.

I have no idea where we went. I couldn't tell anything about the twists or turns or direction. I don't even have a very good sense of how much time it took. But then the car stopped, and Lucas got out. Then my door opened and he helped me out. Then he unfastened the cloak and took the rope.

Just like that first vivid dream, he led me through the woods. I shuffled, barefooted, on ground that should have been very cold. I kicked aside leaves and strode along behind him. I felt the body heat of people near me. I was led to a wooden post, and my feet were fastened apart. I smiled as Lucas tugged the rope up and I stretched out.

I was aroused, my pussy throbbing, wet lubrication coating my lower lips. I arched my back, offered my grossly distended breasts to the people I knew were going to drink from them. I heard the murmuring turning into the chant, and I knew the time was close.

Then someone stripped off the blindfold and pulled out the earplugs. I opened my eyes and as they adjusted to the pitch dark I tried to scream but nothing came out. There was some unholy light, not torches, and not the moon, but some buzzing bioluminescent light, that showed me enough. These weren't people. They were every manner of grotesquerie from the terrors of a hundred different cultures.

There were snakes the size of grown men; amorphous blobs with teeth. There were creatures who looked like they might have been human once, but were now melted, misshapen, scorched. There were things with scales and leathery wings, and feathers like spikes. And there were hundreds of them.

Lucas whispered, and I was paralyzed. He whispered and I was voiceless. He whispered and I was deafened. But I could see. I could still see, clearly, as each one of these monsters stepped up to suckle.

A rank and foul odor filled my nostrils; sour milk, and mold, and shit. I could move my eyes, and watched helplessly terrified as one of the melted humans shuffled closer to me. Glowing blobs where eyes might have been. A loose flap of flesh where a lip could have formed. It leaned in, down, and I watched a thick glob of something slide out of the eye part, and land, hissing and smoking on my chest.

I screamed and still no sound came out. I tried to thrash, but none of my large muscles would move. My chest heaved as I hyperventilated. My stomach churned and I retched endlessly, gagging, but not even my own bile escaped my body. There was no escape. There was no mercy. I was going to die.

The vaguely human shaped creature suckled one breat, sharp teeth pinching on my areola. Then one of the snake creatures slithered up and wrapped itself around my leg. Its scales sharp and rasping on my thigh. I prayed to whatever gods might be listening to let me die. To at least let me pass out. I rolled my eyes up, away, trying to save my gaze from the horrors in front of me.

It made no difference. Looking or not looking, eyes open or closed, shivering or trying to scream, or hanging limply, I had to endure. I had no choice. They were going to take their fill. My purpose had always been to save them. To give them life to renew whatever dark charge they had in ruining lifes, and dealing in fear.

One after the other, taking a sip or a gulp, or a few mouthfuls. I felt my breasts empty and then swell again, empty and swell, empty and swell. Their mouths glommed onto me, drawing me in. Their fangs left marks, their claws left bruises as they held me in place. Each one of the multitude of nightmares came to me and ate me and stole that much more of my soul. I was past hysterical when my breasts filled for the last time.

The crowd of monsters parted.

I saw Lucas in front of me, with an wizened old woman limping beside him. One of her arms was draped around his shoulders, held there by his hand. His other arm was around her waist, holding her up, guiding her forcibly as she trudged toward me. Every step she took seemed the last she was capable of. He let go of her when she was two or three feet away from me, and she staggered forward, falling onto me, pinning me with one icy hand on my shoulder, and the other clamped around my breat.

Hers was the face in the pendant. She almost looked human, but a thousand years old. Her hair was long and dull gray. Her fingers thin and gnarled as she grabbed each of my breasts. Her lips were thick and pale. Her eyes were gray, rheumy, clouded, and bloodshot. Her skin was thin and papery. Her breasts hung, flat on her chest, small useless things.

She bent and surrounded my nipple and areola with her hot wet mouth. She licked my nipple and her fangs pinched. She sucked and sucked and sucked until she'd gotten every last drop. Then she moved to the other breast and did the same. She sucked and sucked and drained me dry. When she stood, her eyes were clear, bright blue, her hair a fiery red. Her skin was soft, smooth, and creamy white. Her breasts full, and her voluptuous figure that of a woman in the prime of her life.

She grinned and stepped back. The rest of them had disappeared. Lucas walked toward her, taking her in his arms and kissing her deeply. I heard him talking to her in that ancient language as she clung to him. They kissed and held each other while I hung from the rope, no longer able to support myself.

Eventually they stopped. They came to me, and Lucas undid the rope. As I was falling to the ground, she snatched the pendent from my neck. A fire burned in my chest as the pendant detached and took a layer of skin with it.

I collapsed and passed out.

I woke up in the woods, naked and spent. It seemed to be near dawn. I felt hollow again, empty. I forced myself to stand, staring around the clearing, wondering if what I had just experienced could possibly have been real. I wandered, lost, barely able to find a path.

I made it to the edge of the woods, standing on the shoulder of a road. I saw a fallen tree and stumbled toward it. I sat down hard, leaned my head on my hands as the world spun somehow both gray and too bright at the same time. I don't know how long I sat there. Cars went by periodically. I got cold.

Eventually I heard an engine, a door opening, and footsteps. I looked up to see a state trooper with a blanket.

"Ma'am, are you ok?" she asked.

I nodded. "Ugh. Urna. Bort."

I felt my eyes go wide. These weren't words, but I knew what I wanted to say. I breathed in hard, tried to calm myself.

She squatted down in front of me, holding out the blanket.

"What's your name, Ma'am?"

I opened my mouth again. A hoarse whisper that might have been a syllable fell out. I closed my mouth, swallowed, and tried again. This time, no sound at all. I started crying and almost screaming. I flapped my hands, and my chest heaved, and I shook my head wildly. I rocked violently.

"It's ok," she said.

She moved to one side, kneeling now. She slowly placed a hand on my knee.

"Ma'am. Ma'am. Look at me," she said, in a low soothing voice.

I moaned and cried, but I managed to stop moving. I managed to look at her.

"Good. That's good. You're safe now. You're ok. We'll figure everything out."

I made myself nod. I was so tired and confused. I was hungry and thirsty. But I had no idea where I was, or how I'd gotten there.

She stood and draped the blanket over my shoulders. I wrapped it tighter around me. I was shaking, terrified again.

"Come with me. I'm going to take you to the hospital. We'll get you checked out."

I nodded. At that moment I still had some hope. I hoped I was just tired and worn out, that some food and some rest would help the terrible pounding in my head, the dizziness, the fatigue.

It didn't.

She took me to the hospital. I couldn't speak. I could understand what people were asking me. But I could only make random, croaking noises. They gave me something to write with. I didn't know how. I couldn't make my hands work, couldn't form letters. They wrote up a list of common names and asked me to point to mine. The letters swam and faded in front of me.

They took blood and did tests, and guessed my age at fifty years older than I was. When I saw myself in a mirror, I understood why. My hair was thin, completely white, and hung all the way down to my waist. My skin was papery and sagging. My nails were long and cracked. I looked emaciated, with ribs and hip bones prominent. My breasts, which just the day before had been full and round, were small and deflated, hanging flat on my chest.

They said I was anemic. They said I was malnourished. They said there was chronic liver and kidney damage, and that I was in heart failure. They said I was thirty pounds underweight. They fed me and gave me supplements and named me Jane. They decided I had dementia and had wandered away from a caregiver.