Summoning

Perhaps the ring picked up on these thoughts without my conscious direction, while my attention was focused on what was wrong with Sam. When I turned from the closed door of the master bedroom to look into the encounter room, I was surprised to see that Frick and Frack were undergoing some sort of transformation. They flopped around on the futon, writhing as their bodies were forced to change. Their faces morphed, their eyes getting beadier and more pig-like; their noses were grew more bulbous, transforming into snouts. Whiskers sprouted from around and under their new noses, while tails started to sprout from their asses. Their fingers folded into fists, then hardened into hooves. Their voices, so high-pitched when they laughed at others’ misfortune, turned harsh and guttural as their cries turned into grunts and squeals. They were not men, nor were they pigs…they were pig-men, knowing nothing now of dungeons and dominants, only knowing the needs of pigs: to eat, to wallow, to shit…and to rut.

Even in the dim light of the encounter room, I could see Frick’s penis extending, as Frack turned over on the futon and put his ass up in the air. They both grunted eagerly as Frick approached Frack from behind…until Frack let out a high-pitched squeal as Frick drove his cock home in the other pig-man’s ass.

Not being into homo-bestiality, I pulled the door closed and left the pair to their new lives as carnival act curiosities.

Ornias paid no attention to me as I continued my Internet surfing, looking for ways to compel it to obey my commands. Despite hours leafing through web page after web page, I could find nothing substantial regarding the ring of Solomon, how to use it, or how to make an uncooperative demon obey the dictates of the one who wielded it. Sighing in frustration, I turned away from the computer…only to find Ornias grinning obscenely at me from behind its prison of light.

“Ready to give up now, aren’t you, worm?” it hissed. “Can’t find any answers to the mystery of the ring, and so now you’re just going to quit. Typical human scum. How the likes of you ever forged a bond with the ring of Solomon, I’ll never know.”

Forged a bond? With the ring? Did it mean when it shrunk to fit around my finger? Or did it mean something else? Since it wouldn’t answer my questions, I didn’t know if there was any way to really find out.

Idly, I examined the last page of Sara’s journal again. Something bothered me about it, something I had put aside while dealing with the more immediate question of the ring and the demon. But, having no solution to those puzzles, I looked more closely at the symbol.

It was well drawn and very clear, which made it likely that Sara hadn’t done it. It was also oddly discolored, a curious brown that looked more like a stain than ink. I poked it with my fingernail…

Ornias let out a sharp hiss from inside his phantom cage.

Startled, I looked up, but its back was still to me and I couldn’t tell what had caused it to break its sullen silence.

I placed my finger on the page near the top of the symbol, and raked my fingernail across it from top to bottom, seeing if I could peel some of the ink from the page.

This time, Ornias roared as if being attacked, and whirled toward me in his prison. As I looked up from the page in the journal, I was startled by the gnashing of its fangs as it beat against the walls of its cage of light, trying to get at me.

A large scratch oozing ichor had formed, running from the top of its head to the bottom of its torso.

I ran my fingernail across the symbol from left to right, pressing down harder this time. Before my eyes, a larger gash began to form from right to left across Ornias’ torso, and the demon screamed in agony until the wound finally stopped forming as it found the left edge of its chest.

Wrapping its gnarled arms and claws across the new furrow that had just formed in its flesh, Ornias looked at me like an unrepentant child pouting after a spanking, its features awash in a mix of emotions – anger, defiance, pain…

Fear.

For the first time in days, I found reason to smile.

Leaving Frick and Frack to their piggish antics, I crossed to the door of the master bedroom and stepped inside. Sam was huddled in the middle of the immense four-post bed, crying silently.

Like the rest many rooms that uninvited guests would never see, the master bedroom was decorated in BDSM-chic. Above the bed were mirrored panels; anchored to the ceiling was a naked wooden beam, over which ropes could be thrown and tied. There were all manner of hooks and pulleys attached to the beam, which could be used for immobilizing or displaying the bound in various positions. Again, Gerry had used club funds to equip his bedroom with many different types of toys, which were either displayed openly or were within easy reach in various chests and bureaus around the room.

Sam remained ignorant of my presence, which was what I wanted for the moment. I stood at the end of the bed and looked down on him, empathizing with the pain he felt. I didn’t really have to look into his mind, as his sadness was being broadcast with such force that those without powerful supernatural forces at their command could feel it.

But I was struck by an image in the front of his mind. Sam saw himself as a kind of Pinocchio. However, instead of being a puppet boy wanting to be real, he saw himself as a fake person, a limbo person…neither male nor female. And what he wanted with all his heart was to be a real woman, one that could move forward in fulfilling the desire to be submissive to a powerful, desirable man.

Of all the people in the house on this night, Sam had always treated me decently, though he had done it as much because of his friendship with Sara than for any other reason. But, looking deeper into his mind, I saw that he genuinely liked me, and found that one time that he had worshipped my feet to be genuinely erotic…and his invitation to do it again was not in jest. He would have gladly knelt before me tonight or any other night and kissed and licked my feet until I told him to stop, and his only complaint would be being told to stop.

To this point, I had used the power of the ring in anger. But, looking at Sam huddled miserable and alone on the bed I decided one thing. If nothing else good came of this night, I would use the powers I had been given to try and make one very decent person happy.

I stepped up beside the bed and let myself become visible to Sam, then sat down beside him. He looked up in alarm, and might have tried to roll away from me on the bed if I hadn’t been sending calming thoughts into his brain through the ring. I took his hand and squeezed.

“Frustrating night, huh?” I began. “I saw you run out the encounter room. Frick and Frack on your case?”

New tears formed at the corners of Sam’s eyes. He took a couple of deep breaths and then, as if afraid his voice would fail him, simply nodded. Then, recalling all the drama surrounding Sara and Ramon and me, his eyes widened. “Daniel, you really shouldn’t be here…”

“Shhhh. I’ve already heard that from Gerry, and I told him where he could stick it. By the time we’re done here tonight, everything will be settled once and for all.” I reinforced that more soothing thoughts, and he settled back on the bed, still troubled but much less agitated.

I didn’t know exactly what to say…how to begin offering Sam the chance to live his heart’s desire. I could just change him and be done with it, but…I wanted this to be something he chose for himself, rather than have it forced upon him. At least that much I could do in the spirit of being his friend.

“Sam…do you believe in magic?” I blurted out.

He looked at me curiously from the bed. “Sometimes, I guess. Sara’s into that sort of thing, you know, and she’s occasionally given me books to read and stuff. But…magic? I don’t know.”

I squeezed his hand again and smiled. “I know what you’re saying. I suppose that, up until a few days ago, I would have said the same thing. But something’s happened to me, Sam. Something that’s wonderful in some ways, and extremely scary in others.” I lowered my voice slightly. “I’ve found true power, Sam. Mystical, mythic power. And I’ve been using it.”

Sam looked at me as if I’d lost my mind, for which I couldn’t blame him.

I stood up and pulled him easily to his feet, aided by the power of the ring. That startled him even more.

“Come with me. I want to show you something.” I lead him across the hall into the encounter room.

The demon Ornias scowled at me from its prison of light, knowing that I had found a bit of leverage upon which to open a dialogue.

“Shall we talk, demon? Or do you prefer…?” I tapped the top of the symbol with my fingernail, hard. A gash opened above the demon’s eyes, and it screamed again in pain and frustration, clawing madly at its eyes as ichor ran into them from above. However, its manner remained defiant.

“Puny mortal. Demons are cursed to bear the wrath of the holy, and the live in the fires of the underworld. You might have found a way to inflict pain and mark my body…but its nothing compared to the torment I have suffered at the hands of others more fearsome than you.”

I nodded. In the thousands of years since Solomon, and in the years before then, even a minor demon such as Ornias must have been through some tough scrapes. A few scratches and cuts probably wouldn’t do much more than enrage it, and that would not get me the answers I wanted. So it was time to try something else.

I got up from my chair, carrying the journal. “Orny my boy, I’d like to introduce you to someone very dear to my heart. Can you say ‘Frigidaire’?”

As we reentered the master bedroom, I literally had to steer Sam to the bed and push her to sit. He had been shocked at the sight of Frick and Frack’s transformation into pig-men, and even more shocked when I exercised my power to cause them to snuffle up to his feet on all fours, then kiss them reverently, as if in apology. I left them there, heads touching the ground in subservience, as I lead Sam to the next room.

Seeing Marg and Jenni frozen in wax scared him, until I assured him that they were not only fine, but awash in orgasmic bliss. To emphasize my point, I reached out and ran my hand over Jenni’s waxen breast, and Sam could clearly hear her moan with desire. Once he was past his fear, it became obvious that the sight of the two women covered in wax turned him on, and he fondled Jenni’s breasts himself, feeling the small tremors through the wax as his touch took her over the edge again.

I took him out onto the screen porch, and we watched as Les walked in spike heels on Gerry’s latex covered chest. His horse cock stuck straight up, glistening moistly in the dim light. Obviously, Les had sampled its fullness inside her own pussy already. I called out to her “Having fun, Les?” She looked up at us and grinned like a cat whose whiskers were covered in cream.

For some reason, something motivated me to make two slight changes to Gerry. As I concentrated on him, the penis gag in his mouth began to turn itself inside out, pushing itself outward into the night air. Once it reached eight inches, I let it stop growing. Les, seeing a new cock growing from nowhere to extend from her husband’s latex covered face, wasted no time in clambering down off his torso to straddle his face, burying the newly hardened latex dildo in her pussy. Then I removed the block on his vocal chords to the extent that, though he could not form words, he could make sounds. He started moaning immediately, though the sound was muffled by female flesh that was now seated on his face. One further thought, and suddenly the dildo in Les’ pussy was a vibrator, its oscillations connected directly to the intensity of Gerry’s moans. The louder he moaned, the faster the vibrator shook inside Les. It took only a few moments (and perhaps a whispered thought from me into her head) for Les to put together how to control the new toy inside her. Then she reached down onto the ground to her right and picked up the crop from where it lay. THWACK went the crop on Gerry’s latex covered chest; ‘MMMMMpphhhh” came the noise from between Leslie’s thighs; “Oooooooooo” came the sound from Les’ mouth. Looking for all the world like a female jockey trying to urge her horse to a win at the wire, Leslie began to beat her husband’s chest and arms while rolling her hips atop his face, driving her pussy down onto the vibrating toy, her clit rubbing against the bulge Gerry’s nose made in his latex mask. I took Sam’s arm to return to the inside of the house, but had to tug him to make him come with me; he was entranced by the entire scene, his cock making a very noticeable bulge in the black panties he was wearing. As I walked him into the hallway toward the bedrooms, I mentally pushed the front door shut; before it could shut completely, I could hear Leslie’s shout as she won her race to orgasm. I couldn’t help but smile as at the thought that the whole scene gave an entirely new meaning to “down the stretch they come!”

Sam was literally lost in thought as he perched on the side of the bed. He was obviously both troubled and excited by what he’d just seen: excited by the erotic power he had just witnessed, troubled by the reasons behind my showing him the power at all.

“I told you…I want to give you a gift.” My voice startled him out of his reverie. “I know you’re unhappy the way you are. And I have the ability to change that for you. You have been a good friend, first to Sara, then to me. So, of all the people here tonight, you are most likely the only one who will have any choice in what happens. That, in itself, is a gift. But I can, if you like, make the one thing you desire most of all happen. I can gift you with the body you have always wished to have.

“If you wish, the next time you leave this room, it will be as a female. No more limbo. No more drag. You will be Samantha, now and for the rest of your life.”

He looked up at me, and I could feel the mix of emotions running through him: uneasiness and fear, desire and hope. But I waited for him to put to voice the one question at the top of his mind, the one that concerned him the most.

“Okay, let’s say this isn’t some hallucination or dream, and that you really can change me into a woman…the woman I always wanted to be. But…” he paused, grasping for words. “What happens then? What happens after the change? Am I still me? Or…?” Words failed him.

I stared into his eyes. “Or do you belong to me?” He looked down quickly, embarrassed that I knew what he was thinking, but also hoping that I didn’t think he was ungrateful.

I suppose I hadn’t really thought about the consequences of making a change of such magnitude. About what would happen on Monday when Samuel no longer existed, and Samantha appeared in his place. In fact, I hadn’t thought about anything beyond this night, beyond indulging myself in the luxury of having power, and using it against those who I felt had sided against me and with Ramon and Sara. I nodded, thinking that there would be fallout from this night, despite my intention to put everything back to “normal” before I left for good…

And that, of course, was the answer! I put my hand under Sam’s chin and lifted until his eyes met mine. “Why don’t we try this, Sam? I will change you into the woman you wish to be, and you can remain that way up until the time I am ready to leave here. And then, you can decide if you want to stay that way or not…whether you want to remain Samantha, or return to being Sam.

“As for belonging to me…I did not come here seeking a slave. So that’s a question that you and I would have to broach later. However, for tonight…perhaps you would favor me with the pleasure of being your Master temporarily? It would at least give you some idea of what it might be like to fully live out your dream?”

He pondered the idea, and I could feel the hope and desire begin to overwhelm the fear and uneasiness in his mind. “Just for tonight?” he asked, meeting my eyes.

I nodded.

He smiled hugely, and I could sense that it was the first time that kind of smile had lit his face in weeks. Relief and joy flooded through Sam’s body at the thought that he would not be burning any bridges if the experience wasn’t everything that he hoped it would be.

“I’m ready,” were the only words he said.

I really didn’t know whether the thought to put the journal in the freezer was inspiration, desperation, or equal measures of both. But, given that it was a demon, and that pain and heat would seem to be things it might be used to, I wondered if cold might be a more effective means for getting Ornias to do what I wanted. So I walked to the kitchen, placed the open book right on top of the box of frozen fish sticks, and took rectangular quart of Butter Almond ice cream and placed it atop of the page with the demon’s symbol. Then I closed the freezer door and returned to the bedroom to wait.

Ornias was mute, of course, having already thrown out its dismissal of my “puny” efforts to inflict punishment on it. However, as it squatting with its back to me, I could see that, demon or not, cold was definitely something it wasn’t used to.

Ornias was shivering.

Whistling a few bars of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” I went back to surfing the web.

I suppose, at that point, I could have just started changing Sam’s body by concentrating on it, trying to make it look like the image she had created in her mind. But then, I likely would botch the job, and decided on a more imaginative method of realizing his desire.

“Get undressed Sam, and then come stand in the center of the bedroom.” I walked over to the far wall and pulled an old, oval-shaped dressing mirror from its place and brought it over to place in front of my pet project. “Look in the mirror Sam. Imagine the woman you want to be, then watch.”

Sam looked at me doubtfully, but then did as I asked. I could feel him focusing his thoughts on what he’d like to be, and, using my power, I funneled those thoughts into the glass of the mirror. Slowly, a new image began orienting itself over Sam’s true reflection.

It was obvious that the first thing Sam wanted was to be shorter. As his true image receded into the background of the mirror, the head of the female image forming would barely reach mid-chest of Sam’s current body. However, that would still make the woman Sam wanted to be at least 5’ 9”, and taller in heels.

The overall structure of the body Sam wanted was easily imagined. The body was fairly trim, curvy but not fat. Sam wanted long legs, a fairly short torso, and nicely proportioned hips. Satisfied with the overall shape, Sam concentrated first on breast size and shape. As we both watched, the flat-chested woman in the mirror rapidly started to grow a bosom, ballooning from nothing to mammaries right out of an adolescent wet dream. In my estimation, they were stripper boobs – patently pasted-on monstrosities that had no business on the real body Sam was trying to create.

“Perhaps you might scale those down a bit,” I interjected, grinning. “You really don’t need to be so top heavy.”

Sam’s brow furrowed for a moment, and then the bust in question shrunk slightly, along the same lines of exchanging a pair of cantaloupes for two prize grapefruit. Large, but definitely more suited to the body she had constructed. Both breasts were firm and round, defying gravity in their perky thrust away from Sam’s body.

Satisfied with the basics, Sam turned his attention to the nipples. From smooth rounded flesh sprouted small nubs of pink flesh. Watching them in the mirror, Sam let them grow until the base of the nipple was the size of a dime, and extended outward from each breast about ½ an inch. Another moment of thought, and pink areolas formed perfect circles around each nipple.