Majutsu-shi no Chikara Ch. 11

"Look through my eyes, if you would dare." she nodded, brilliant green eyes disappearing in the dark before hiding behind white locks.

Accepting this invitation with as delicate a touch as she could, Jachmina sought within herself for a suitable spell or charm to invade Esmeray's mind. Before long, she gave a sheepish chuckle and could not meet Saran's unflinching gaze.

"That's not a device I use with any... familiarity." She admitted, splaying her fingers in apology and shrugging. "Perhaps you would be able to show..."

Without warning, Saran launched a cymbal-crashing sound and wove her hands through the air -- taking Jachmina by surprise. Before Jachmina could respond, her perception dipped into darkness. Only a moment, before she blinked once... now staring at herself, standing in a stupor of enchantment.

"Pay close attention." Jachmina said, hearing the voice of Esmeray Saran rolling from a mouth that felt too wet, feeling hunger in her body that hadn't been there a moment before. "You'll understand..."

As if someone had gripped either side of her head and shook violently, the world seemed to shift and slide for a heartbeat before her vision refocused on those immaterial lines of magic that rippled through the world and unknown other realities. She could see the clockwork windmill of defenses built-up around her as the central point, each painstaking angle carefully placed -- balancing directly in the middle of her essence and pushing outward on...

The sluggish, churning mass of darkness horrified and titillated her, crushing inward and trickling through the barrier around her in a fine spray of lust that was, even now, setting her mind afire with desperate sexual need. Before she could study it further, it felt as if she lost her balance and the whole scene toppled sideways...

Jachmina gave a deep shiver, coming back to her senses within her own body. The surreal excitement she'd felt became a reflection, an echo of itself that faded into a memory in her mind that threatened to be forgotten as quickly as it happened. The arcane machine, layer upon layer of smaller defensive measures, was only delaying the lethal rush of energy battering at the outermost walls of Esmeray's mind.

"What... what exactly do you have in mind?" Jachmina gulped a deep breath.

"Can you kill a nymph?" Saran asked flatly, the vain hope dying on her lips as she waited for the predictable negative response.

Jachmina shook her head slowly.

"Can you break the curse this nymph placed on me?" Again, she waited for the expected negative reply.

"Well, maybe..." was not what Saran had anticipated. "Most fae magic is guttural or formless."

"She used a talisman." Esmeray sighed and laid the back of her hand against her forehead, the cool skin of her hand felt the sweat-slick heat of her forehead. "I didn't see what it was, and I haven't been... I don't have much time."

"Yes, of course." Jachmina answered lamely, uncertain as to which part she was acknowledging. "The talisman wouldn't have made the effect... this curse... more complex. If I can unravel the root of the curse, it's just... how much time do you have?"

"That depends on whether the fae decides to put any effort behind it." Esmeray took grim satisfaction at Jachmina's surprise of this; to have survived such a curse and know that it was not currently at its peak strength. "A few weeks, at most. Minutes, if my impromptu mill fails."

Fascination at the circumstances took the place of where a non-wizard would have given Esmeray pity for her condition, and Jachmina felt a powerful urge to dissect and study the matter in exhaustive detail to fully understand it. The only real pity was that Saran would not survive long enough for extensive testing and research. Those green eyes narrowed in acknowledgment of Jachmina's musing, and the enchantress shook herself loose of those thoughts.

"So, you think it would be better to...?" Jachmina motioned for Esmeray to expound, but realized the elder Wizard was waiting on her to reach the conclusion on her own. "...switch bodies? No. You want to anchor the curse to a scarecrow of yourself."

"Precisely." Esmeray didn't even bother nodding, and her hands were beginning to drift toward her crotch despite constant efforts to keep still. "So, can you make a body-double?"

"It wouldn't be complete enough." Jachmina frowned, realizing her own inadequacies before Saran. "Which is why you offered... how likely do you think this will succeed? Won't the duplicate just be destroyed? You'd be buying yourself a few minutes, hours at best."

"It only needs to last until sunrise." Esmeray grimaced.

"That explains the daemon." Now Jachmina felt she had a clearer grasp of the picture, as each of the elements fell together and sifted into arrangement. "You put the curse onto a surrogate body, summon the daemon -- who I must assume owes you a great many allegiances -- break the enchantment... and then what?"

"Then I stay away from that damnable nymph until it dies of old age." Jachmina could feel Esmeray's scowl, though she couldn't see it.

"Who is going to host the daemon?" Jachmina looked about, eyes unable to pierce the deepening shadows of nightfall. "You plan on binding this being completely... which is another reason you wanted me. Oh, Saran, I could kiss you."

"Best you don't." Esmeray coughed a mirthless laughed, one midnight hand pressing deep into the folds of her traveling robe. "I haven't the slightest notion if it's contagious among the arcane."

"Right, let's get started, then." Jachmina bobbed her head and wiggled her fingers expectantly. "Where's the host?"

"On his way, if he knows what's good for him." Saran was panting now. "I'll be with you in a few minutes. I need to relieve the pressure."

"Would it... I mean, you must admit this is all terribly fascinating." Jachmina blushed girlishly, and wouldn't look Esmeray in the eyes as the onyx Wizard began walking away from the river and off the road.

"Yes, you may watch, if that is your ambition." Esmeray gave her a dismissive wave, her other hand reluctant to move from the increasing heat at her groin.

Ducking through the camouflaged entrance of her reinforced tent, Esmeray Saran doffed clothing and pretense of decorum in earnest pursuit of her relief. Sprawling roughly to the layered and padded cloth mat on which she now slept fitfully the past few nights (when she'd slept at all), both hands busied themselves along the glistening obsidian lips below the shining white bush of hair beginning to grow wild above. Jachmina blanched, only a moment, before she followed into the tent and took a seat upon the tent floor to begin her study of Esmeray's condition. The means of the Wizard's relief and the manner in which her defenses aided or impeded such actions being Jachmina's primary focus, she was pleasantly surprised when Saran began to dismiss the myriad other enchantments and bolsters not specifically structured against the nymphen blight assaulting her.

Watching the sheen of black glass melt and hiss into gray-green smoke, revealing league upon league of weathered, beaten, scarred, and expertly grafted flesh in a macabre motley unlike any Jachmina had seen in person (save those of laboratory specimens). Embedded in the flesh of Esmeray's throat, or replacing it, was a wide band of reddish scales like those of a great wyrm in miniature. Saran's left side, nearly the whole left side of her torso and much of her left arm, was sheathed in warty blue-black hide that Jachmina could only assume to be stripped from some troll. Scars and burns ran all over, though most wounds predated the arcanely grafted troll flesh and the dragon scales looked recent (Jachmina dared to estimate). The sheer number of scars exceeded the unblemished, aging skin of a human woman that must have been in her late thirties before beginning to use magic to stall her body's aging, and Jachmina saw with some awed disgust that Saran had, in fact, lost both eyes in some violent assault.

Unable to stifle it, Jachmina gasped in equal parts horror and admiration of the stolen eyes of some elf -- bright green, with amber sparks gazing at her, eerily perfect, from the scarred pits of Saran's face. The ruined flesh had mended unevenly and her eyelids must also have been grafted -- though probably Esmeray's own skin from elsewhere on her body.

"I see the questions on your face." Saran's voice was lower, scratching Jachmina's ears with command in the wyrm's way, and Jachmina's body quivered in answer to it. "But that is not part of our agreement."

Jachmina felt bile rising in her throat, but swallowed and nodded in reply. Casting her left arm over her scarred face, Saran focused the attention of her right hand to pleasuring herself desperately against the malice of the curse. Panting through small waves of arousal, Esmeray sensed Jachmina's disquiet and grunted in irritation.

"This would go faster if you had a penis." She snarled, keeping her eyes covered.

"I... I don't..." Jachmina admitted enough, and Saran spoke a word that sounded like a distant roar from an ancient nightmare of scales and claws.

The spell stabbed between Jachmina's eyes, skewering her thoughts with surgical precision to artlessly deposit a memory that didn't belong to her. A memory of a body-changing magic that Saran had used, years ago. Jachmina savored the dissolving memory as much as she could, relishing the shadows of both time and experience revealed within it, the absolute control of self within the moment. Tucking her fingers through the waves and curling lines in the ether, she spoke the words that she knew she wouldn't remember in moments. The energy coalesced, searing painfully hot into her body to twist muscle and bone -- supplanting and restructuring her form into that of someone else...something else.

Esmeray rolled to her hands and knees, not bothering to look back at the scaly shape behind her.

"Hurry." She commanded.

Jachmina stumbled on clawed feet, unsteady with a long, thin body and instinctively wrapping the extraordinarily long tail about her left hind leg to balance and splaying her underdeveloped wings to batter the canvas of the tent. She was a dragon! A small, not even adolescent thing, but she could feel the flame sac in her throat, could see... oh, the eyes of a dragon were a marvel through which to view the world. The lines of magic took shape without effort, and she felt innately attuned to... something... before Saran's gravelly voice cut into her self-reflection.

"Fuck. Me." She ordered.

Jachmina answered in the affirmative, but a dragon's mouth and throat were not for human speech. She managed something like a growling hiss and her jaw snapped twice, making her fangs click audibly. Looking to her pelvis, she saw the bulging cloacal scale.

Fascinating. Jachmina purred in the back of her throat, which reverberated pleasantly through her long neck and into her shoulders and wing-limbs.

The sensation of having hemipenes, and the disturbing novelty of witnessing the twin genitals... blossom... from her pelvis gratified Jachmina in a most primal way, though she wasn't certain how she'd reached arousal so quickly.

Then she heard the strange, humming song that tickled deep in her snout and into her loins. Esmeray Saran's draconic neck expressed, so far as Jachmina could tell, proficiency in coaxing her to readiness even though she found her alien physique equal parts distressing and amazing.

A pity I can't study this more. Jachmina mused, crouching over Saran's posterior clumsily and wedging one of her bulbous cocks into the human body inviting her. The fleshy organ squished and deformed, squeezing into Esmeray's pussy and filling her in a manner most unbecoming of either human or wyrm.

Though she couldn't fully grasp the how of it, Jachmina realized that she was definitely not aroused-enough to be fertile -- which led to the revelation of a mystery not taught in any magical academy she knew: dragons are hermaphrodites. She could feel the second sex organs, a cloacal pocket running in parallel to her penises. So excited by the realization was she, that she completely withdrew from Esmeray's body to fumble at her own sex organs with her claws.

"Hey!" Esmeray's voice was a shriek, the roar of an angry mate, the admonishing and stern rebuke of tutor to pupil... it was too many sounds at once for Jachmina to parse, yet she responded to it with reflexive ease and plunged forward again and mashed the flexible appendage into Saran's cunt a second time.

Rocking back and forth in poor imitation of a more practiced owner of such organs, Jachmina struggled to build a human thrusting rhythm -- but the barbed flesh caught and dragged, which she thought must hurt immensely. Uncertain what to do, she paused. Now, unbidden, her soft, flexible flesh protruding into Esmeray began to squirm and undulate as though of its own accord. She could just sense the tiny muscles there, giving fits and spasms without any real guidance. Directing as much of her attention as she could from keeping herself upright, Jachmina commanded those small muscles to tense and relax, noting with more horrid fascination that it moved almost like a boneless limb in its own right.

"Yessss..." Esmeray hissed at last, her shoulders sagging as she slumped forward, resting her forehead against her arm. "More... the other one."

Like second and third tongues, Jachmina's hemipenes writhed and flexed about. Searching, like a sow for truffles, each curling appendage lurched and reached. The first, still lodged within Esmeray, would not yield ground or space to the first -- as though the two were rival parts of the same body -- and Jachmina found herself prodding at the chimera Wizard's sphincter. Unbidden, each of the reptilian penises began to excrete a steaming liquid.

At first, Jachmina thought it must be some bizarre incontinence, but the stuff was unlike any urine she knew. Indeed, Esmeray shivered and hissed in what sounded like affection as the nearly scalding liquid surged into and over her body. It was then Jachmina realized this nearly odorless, thin syrup was intended to flush-out rival seed prior to mating... and served as lubrication in facilitating entry, allowing the barbs of each tongue-cock to scrape backward without tearing the delicate inner walls. Saran shuddered and groaned as Jachmina's second penis pressed more insistently against the pucker of her anus. It was a sort of fantasy Jachmina had indulged with Remfry -- though mostly through the employ of illusions and more mundane sexual aids (even surrogates), but had never been on the "giving" end of such an arrangement.

She could taste - taste! - Esmeray's body with those probing tongues of barbed muscle, and found the combination an amalgam unlike anything in her previous experience. How to describe the eye-watering, musky taste or feel of Saran's ass with the sweeter, sour nectar flavor of her cunt -- as though swirling exotic vino over her palate and giving the melange scholarly consideration. Something akin to sweat tickled her senses, the thin juice of her own draconic body pulsing through and mixing against the more intense flavors of the mostly human female in whom she was thrusting and flexing both cocks with greater urgency.

As the Wizard orgasmed twice in rapid succession, Esmeray growled and cried-out without words. Jachmina found the ear-splitting scream gratifying, and gripped Saran's waist firmly in her claws as each cock fought its way into and back out of the Wizard with fervent rhythm. The rest of her body seemed to become rigid, fixed in place, as she drew Esmeray's hips tight against her own pelvis. Those twin cocks found a pace and angle almost of their own design, and Jachmina found the growing pleasure of those sensations to draw onward like a slow-burning fuse of some great cannon.

Esmeray panted, drooling heedless as the muscled, barbed prongs of the dragon fucked into her holes recklessly. When Jachmina grabbed her hips, she climaxed again. The barbs pulled against the walls of her body, trying to remove any trace of semen that might already have found its way inside her. The hot, lubricating excretion from each cock gave her the sense she'd already been filled with pints of searing, molten lust. She was hopeful, perhaps dangerously so, that the aphrodisiac of a dragon's coital serum would enhance her body's metabolism of the nymph's curse. She wouldn't know how much, if at all, it improved her protective mill's efficiency, but she had been willing to try.

Jachmina thought, after what must have been nearly an hour, that she was approaching the culmination of this draconic body's fornicating peak (or peaks). Certainly the mind-altering perceptions of a dragon played a heavy hand in her ability to gauge such things, and Esmeray had gone limp in her grasp some time earlier and was now only a grunting sleeve in her claws. Perhaps a fellow dragon would fare better, but that...

Hypnotic, saurian eyes widened in alarm as the hemipenes swelled in a last effort to divest Esmeray of any competing essence prior to filling her. Jachmina feared, only for a moment, that Saran could be harmed by such a deluge, before surrendering to the most primal intellect of procreation. When next she opened her long, fanged jaws, Jachmina roared with elation as her body's hidden mechanisms pulsed, contracted, swelled, and spurted. The bulging flesh of her hemipenes became rigid like knotted fists inside the human's body, as seed rushed out in a blistering torrent of bliss. Esmeray huffed and hissed in satisfaction, her belly slightly swollen from so many intruding forces. A last, slow-moving wave of ecstasy surged beneath her and lifted her head to cry out in answer to Jachmina's bellowing roar.

When the tidal wave receded, Esmeray Saran lurched upward to brace an arm beneath her and reach back to dislodge the stunned Jachmina's claw from her hip. As if waking from some trance, the enchanter Jachmina stepped back, loosing her hold of the human form and watching with morbid wonder at the stretching, gaping flesh around the knotted hemipenes as her cocks popped loudly from Saran's ravaged holes. The flushing outpour of infertile semen and coital serum seemed far too much for a human body to handle, and Jachmina marveled again at Saran's chimeric grafts that likely ran much deeper than the skin.

Superb. Jachmina purred and snarled, Saran flopping limp onto the tent floor as her body expelled the foreign fluids into a growing, steaming puddle.

"I think..." Esmeray fought to open her eyes from the sleep-like post-copulatory fugue. "That should last the night."

Jachmina felt no such tiredness, but instead was wrangling her apprehension for not knowing how to undo her current transformation. Saran's "gift" had not included instruction for reversal of such a thing. Esmeray, no longer bloated with Jachmina's ejaculate, managed a minor invigoration spell to restore some of her vitality.

Rather than don her obsidian skin-armor, Esmeray sat up (ignoring the warm puddle in which she now sat) and directed her magic to Jachmina. The deteriorating memory speared into Jachmina's mind with the same piercing clarity as the first, and to be as swiftly forgotten.

"Try that, and let us get back to the matter." Saran rose to her feet, wobbling slightly and more fluid dribbling out of both holes to run down her legs.

Becoming human hurt far more than becoming a dragon, Jachmina decided. The magic was easier to use, as the dragon's voice could pronounce complex syllables in multiple layers that often took human throats intense study and practice to achieve. It certainly answered how Saran had ascended to the Tower, if she had managed to graft such vocal chords into her own throat.