The Assassin and the Sorceress Ch. 07

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A young Morgana finally finds peace, but can it last?
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Part 7 of the 10 part series

Updated 12/30/2023
Created 03/02/2015
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At first, I only used my power for small things. I know Verus told me I would accomplish great things with it, but I felt I had already accomplished great things without using it at all. With nothing more than my own words, and a little courage, I had convinced my father to finally stand up to my abusive mother. In the process I also managed to improve my relationship with him. After a childhood spent with him mostly absent, he was finally present in my life.

Speaking of which, the next time I saw my mother after that fateful evening, she had a visible black eye, though this was nothing next to the changes in her demeanor. She looked at me with a new quality that I had never seen in her eyes before. I think it was humility.

Now that I had mended my family situation somewhat, I wanted to go earn myself some better friends, and I wanted to do it through the same means. Verus had told me to use my magic subtly at first, so that my powers might remain a secret, however I quickly decided I would try to do this without using the power at all. I wanted to earn their respect the right way; I wanted them to like me for who I was.

That didn't mean I couldn't use the power at all, however. I could practice its use, and I could use it for my own amusement in secret. If there was a book I wanted, I could make an identical copy of it in an instant without even having to borrow it from its owner. I duplicated a large mirror. They were unbelievably expensive in those days. I had a few other trifles and trinkets that I could enjoy by myself in my room or out in the woods. The best part was that I could make them vanish as quickly as I had conjured them. It wouldn't matter; the Oculus still had the object's configuration in its memory, so I could conjure it right up again when I wanted it next. That way, I never risked my parents finding me with so many toys we couldn't have ever afforded.

The only thing I couldn't hide by temporarily removing it from existence was the Oculus itself. It was the one thing in all the world that seemed to be immune to its own power. My otherwise all-seeing eye saw nothing but a black void wherever it sat, as if the universe itself ceased to exist in the small space it occupied. It's actually rather unnerving, in fact. What IS that thing? Is it even made of matter, or does it just mimic the concepts of size, substance, and weight? Thankfully, the Oculus is mostly unremarkable to the natural senses. It looks and feels like a pretty rock I might have found by the river. Even the black facet that seems to open to infinity isn't very apparent unless you know to look right at it. If one of my parents were to find it in my room, I doubt they would have paid it much mind.

I never made gold for myself or my family, though. That might have been too obvious of a change. Others might figure out that I had been spending more money than we were known to have. That would have brought up many questions, none of which I wanted being asked about us. Beyond that, it just felt petty to squander such other-worldly magic on something so fleeting as material wealth, which I never desired in the first place. I don't know how conjuring toys and trinkets for my amusement counted as a worthier use, but it did. At least in my mind, it did.

Well, there was one other thing I used my new magic for. I used it to make myself prettier. Even though I had decided not to use my magic to affect my relations with others, the temptation to finally have the body and features I had always coveted was too great to resist for long. Besides, I knew it was a sad fact of life that good looking people are generally more loved and more influential. My parents were supposed to love me unconditionally, however making new friends is another matter. Therefore, I decided some subtle changes would be needed on that front.

One morning, when both my parents were away for the day, I shut my bedroom door and conjured up my full-length mirror.

I looked at my own image as I had seldom seen myself. I was pretty; not as beautiful as some of the girls like Susan or that bitch Rebecca who had stolen Joseph's heart from me, but I could recognize the youthful look in my face, my long, black hair that hung neatly down my back, and my bright, intelligent eyes.

Of course, there were more than a few things lacking. My breasts were tiny, and I didn't have much hip to show off. I was a frail slip of a girl. I would have loved to give myself a large pair of breasts to rival Susan's, however, even if I could figure out how to do it, the change would have been too sudden for people not to suspect magic. Any changes I made had to be subtle, so I was fairly limited in how beautiful I could make myself in one day.

And so, I would have to be content with making small changes over time. I tapped into the Oculus and looked at the structure of my flesh. I had done this before to heal my injuries, so making a few alterations couldn't be that much more difficult. I started simple by correcting a few blemishes. I erased a few pimples here and there, made my skin smoother, straightened my teeth to my liking. When I looked back in the mirror from a few feet away, I still looked like me. That was a good thing. The last thing I wanted to do was to make me not myself anymore. I decided I was quite done with my face.

I took my clothes off and looked at my naked body. Joseph had loved me in this body, however I was much less pleased with what I saw. At least here, underneath my clothes, I could afford to be more liberal with the changes I made. Only Joseph had seen me naked before, and it was very unlikely I would get a chance to show my body to him again.

I had always been jealous of Susan's protruding breasts, so I worked on those first. I focused the Oculus on them, noting the structure of my skin, the fat underneath it, and some structures that must have been the milk glands. When I was confident in how the changes should be made, I expanded the fatty tissue between the milk glands and expanded the skin outside as needed. It was just a small increase, but I liked it! I looked at myself in the mirror, examining myself from several angles. I cupped my breasts in my hands and felt their new volume. A tiny change, but if I did this once every few weeks I would soon have the ample breasts I had always coveted, and the growth would appear natural enough that people wouldn't question it. Maybe I had just developed later than other girls. So what of it?

I loved them! But how big should I eventually make them? I could make any temporary changes I wanted, as long as I didn't leave the room with anything drastically different, so why not plan out what I ultimately wanted to do? I made note of my breasts' current configuration, or rather had the Oculus make note, and began growing them with reckless abandon.

I watched in glee as my breasts swelled before my eyes in the mirror! This was something I had always coveted. I felt them with my hands. It felt so wonderful to be able to hold that much flesh in my hands, to knead it between my fingers. I pinched my nipples between my fingers and felt a jolt of pleasure run through them.

I had to create more! I kept expanding them until they were even larger than Susan's. Soon they were bigger than my head, then the size of watermelons. I expanded them until they were inhumanly large and my breasts felt so heavy I thought their weight alone would rip them from my chest. I had to support them with my hands.

I looked ridiculous now, but I still found it amusing. My breasts were freakishly large, so large that it actually ruined my feminine figure. I played with the largest breasts that any woman had likely ever had until they started to hurt me.

That was enough. I shrank them back down to something realistic but still ample. They were comparable to Susan's breasts now, but perhaps not identical. I tinkered with their consistency a little, tried different levels of firmness, different shapes. When I thought I had it perfected, I stopped to admire my work in the mirror. They were as large as Susan's, but perhaps firmer. They were so round and perky. They stuck straight out. I loved them!

I gawked and played with them for some time, but remembered with disappointment that I could not take these breasts outside to show to anyone. Not just yet. I let them shrink back to the size I had decided on for now, just slightly larger than my natural size. I cupped them in my hands again, pleased with what I had done. They would get bigger in time, but they were still a nice handful for now.

What else could I improve? I looked at my ribs which barely showed below my new breasts. I didn't think it was attractive. Just as I had expanded my breast flesh, I let the thin layer of fat under my skin thicken to my liking. I created just enough to look healthy and fed. Once my ribs were no longer visible, I did the same for my hip bones. My body now had a soft look and feel to it, so much better than the boniness from before. I looked at my smooth curves, and knew I had done well.

Next were my twig-like arms and legs. I experimented with more fat, but I couldn't quite get it right. I decided that the needed fix wasn't fat, but muscle. I examined my muscle tissue and found it to be somewhat more complex than my skin, but certainly not beyond my capabilities. I expanded the muscles in my arms slightly until my shoulders had just a little bit of a bulge. I did the same with my calves and my butt. I ran my hands over myself, feeling the nice, firm bulges I had created. When I moved my arms or legs, I could feel the muscles moving in a way I hadn't before. I liked it. I must have spent an hour experimenting with different musculatures and different thicknesses of fat until I found a figure I liked. Again, I toned it down to something nobody was likely to notice, intending to slowly progress to what I wanted.

Finally, I looked at my vagina. I had saved the best for last. I had always been ashamed of the wrinkly old thing. There were folds of loose, brown skin that distended down from it in a disgusting way and the bulbous clitoris that poked out, made only worse by the scraggly hair that barely covered it up. I had seen other girls naked on a few occasions, and none of them looked like that. In fact, I distinctly remember the first time I saw another girl's vagina. There had been no hideous folds of wrinkly skin, just a modest little slit, like a shy smile, and I had thought it was absolutely breathtaking in its beautiful simplicity. Ever since then, I had hated my vagina.

Just as I had expanded my flesh before, I let the extra skin shrink and smooth out. I let it shrink until it was barely visible between the outer lips. I looked at the skin through the Oculus and found which components were responsible for the dark color. I took enough of the pigment away until my labia were a nice, soft pink all around.

I brushed my pubic hair out of the way so I could get a better look. Actually, why did I even need the hair? I could just magic it away! Then again, was it normal for a grown woman to have no hair in her nether regions? Did women ever take a razor to those parts like some men will shave their faces clean? I decided I didn't care what other women did or didn't. I let the hair vanish from existence. I looked at my newly trim and beautiful vagina. It still wasn't quite like I remembered that vision of beauty. What was different? I finally realized that I could make my outer lips bigger. I let the skin swell up nice and puffy. As those outer folds of skin fattened and puckered together, my vagina finally began to look like how I had always imagined one was supposed to look. And it was gorgeous!

I ran my fingers up and down the tight slit, feeling that fleshy crevice that just beckoned to be explored deeper. I pulled my hand away and stared again. It was strange, but I was feeling lustful toward my own body: not just that my body wanted the touch of my fingers, but my fingers actually wanted to explore my sensuous flesh.

At this point, my experimentation was done. It had been indescribably sensuous playing dress-up with my own body, and I was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate through the Oculus. It was time to enjoy what I had accomplished. My fingers slid down my vulva and squeezed the plump labia majora. I slid my middle finger between the lips and into the warm, damp crevice and explored. Though I had seen every atom and had decided on the exact layout of my new flesh, looking through the Oculus was nothing compared to exploring with my own natural senses. I loved the feeling of my new flesh! I played with myself like it was my first time learning to masturbate all over again.

While I did this, I stood in front of the mirror and watched myself. My body was so new and beautiful, it was like watching a new lover. I wanted to see my large and perky breasts again, however I had no interest in the comparatively droll process of arranging atoms any more, but my modestly sized breasts were beautiful enough. I thought about that promise to myself that I would eventually make them that big, and I was so excited!

My athletic and smooth body writhed about in the mirror like the vision of a goddess! My hips rocked and swayed sensuously as I enjoyed the building sensations my fingers were creating. Meanwhile, my other hand explored every other corner of my new body. It ran up the side of my belly and cupped a breast, squeezing and feeling the new thickness. The hand slid back downward, traced the curve of my hip, and slid down the inside of my thigh as far as it could reach. Then it began its journey upward again. I was in ecstasy!

I didn't let myself climax too quickly, but I didn't take very long all the same. My thighs shuddered. My knees felt weak. I gripped the side of the mirror to steady myself, and barely managed to stay standing. I gasped for air, wondering if I should just let myself collapse and finish myself as I writhed on the floor, but somehow my legs found the strength to stay standing. After three good climaxes I was finally feeling satisfied. I took a moment to catch my breath, then let go of the mirror and stumbled over to my bed where I collapsed, still naked, on top of my sheets.

***

Over the next few weeks, I focused my daily life on trying to make some new friends in the village. With my parents, it had come naturally to me. I knew what I had to say and what I had to stand for. It had only been a matter of finding the courage to actually do it. Finding friends in a village of people who didn't seem to care for me what much more difficult. I had no idea what to say or even who to say it to.

I made a few midday trips into the village square where I knew some of my acquaintances hung out such as Susan, Joseph, and Rebecca. However, I always felt awkward approaching a group of people, even when I somewhat knew them. I had no idea what to say to start a conversation. I won't bother to repeat what few, brief conversations I did have. They were usually uninteresting, and occasionally awkward and embarrassing. This friend-making business wasn't fun for me. It was a chore. I wanted to retreat into the woods like I always had, where the trees and animals would keep me company, but I forced myself not to. I had retreated from other people all my life, and it was time to stop that.

Sunday worship was always an opportunity to interact with others, but it proved to be even less fruitful. I hated being there, listening to the priest drone on, and anyone I would have wanted to talk to also hated being there. The rare few who did actually seem to like it there weren't the sort I wanted to associate with, as desperate as I may have been for friends.

Heading to the tavern was more enjoyable, but probably only because I went with my father. I did enjoy his company. In fact, it was only when I was around him that I felt like I could truly be myself, without needing to prove myself to be appreciated. His friends seemed to like me, too, however they were certainly too old to be prospects for marriage, and I think all of them had wives and children of their own. But maybe that's exactly why I found their company so relaxing: there was no ulterior goal. I could enjoy an evening of conversation without feeling like I needed to be working toward something.

I tried to go off on my own in the tavern a few times to speak to some of the younger men and women, but I had about the same luck as I did in the village square during daylight hours. I was frustrated. The group of my peers who were of marriageable age but not yet married was steadily shrinking, and I was making no progress whatsoever.

And so, it was my father who came to my aid in the end. It was toward the end of spring of my twenty-first year. My father and I were in our usual corner of the tavern, enjoying some ale and listening to the boisterous music. As the song ended, there was a brief lull. I noticed Father looking at me, as if he had something to say. I looked at him and raised my eyebrows, an inquisitive look.

"You need to get out more," he said after hesitating a moment.

"Pardon me?" I wasn't offended, just unsure of what he was getting at.

"We need to get you out more, Morgana. As much as I love you and your company, you can't hang around us old men forever. We need to find you a nice young man who's husband material before you're doomed to be an old spinster."

Leave it to a father to know his own daughter. Perhaps the ale was loosening his tongue. His words might have sounded insensitive, but I knew he was nothing but well-meaning. In fact, I wasn't offended a bit. He had cut to the core of my deepest fear, and it felt oddly comforting to have these fears acknowledged. I had never told him that. He just knew. He understood. And he wanted to help.

"I know."

"If you want, you can come help me out in the fields tomorrow. The harvest is starting."

I had never heard of him working fields before. I thought he worked at the stable. Also, I didn't see how him asking for me to work fields had anything to do with the previous conversation. Was he changing the subject so soon? Before I could think of how to reply, he continued, almost defensively.

"Now... Now, I know it's not usually considered lady's work, but you won't be the only girl there. The Adensons need all the help they can get during harvest, and it'll be a good way to bring in some more coin. We've got to pay for all this good ale somehow, am I right?"

"How long have you been working as a farmhand? I had no idea you did that."

"Ah... well... don't tell your mother. She wouldn't approve. She's strictly forbidden me from consorting with the Adensons and their ilk in any way. Don't ask why. Once she decides to hate someone, well you know how she is. Most harvests I've managed to work a few good hours without drawing suspicion, but this year I think we can be regulars. Laboring in the open air is a nice change from those stables. Furthermore, I've discovered that money she doesn't know I make is a lot easier to spend on things that I like. Such as drinks with my only daughter."

I laughed! I had no idea Father was so sly! I was certain he kept his secrets from Mother, but this was a level of craftiness I had not expected from him!

"You know, you don't have to keep it a secret from her at all. Not anymore. I mean, you're the man of the house now, aren't you? What could she possibly do? Forbid you?"

He leaned in closer. The music had started up again, but that might have been for the better. I had a feeling the conversation was about to turn even more private.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Morgana. Ah, but a man needs to... well a woman, too, I suppose... A responsible adult needs to pick his battles, and some things just aren't worth the price of fighting. Even if you know you will win. Even victory has a price, sometimes. The last thing we need is another fight with her right now, and we can gain the same thing by simply not telling her."