The Futa Ring Ch. 03: Wraith!

"Ali?" Fiona's sharp voice cut through the chaos in my mind, dispelling the fog of dreams and unreality.

I opened my eyes and stared blearily at her. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I - For fuck's sake, Ali. I haven't heard from you in months. No one has."

I frowned, still struggling to wake up and make sense of anything. "Months?"

"My god, Ali. Look at this place." With her feet she brushed away a pile of junk mail and a stack of empty pizza boxes that I hadn't quite got around to throwing out. "Look at you! When was the last time you ate anything? You're as thin as a wraith."

"I hope not," I said. With some effort, I forced myself upright, my head spinning wildly. "Water. Bring me water."

I zoned out for a while, just sipping water as Fiona made a heroic attempt at clearing the mess and righting the flat. She even flung open the curtains and opened the windows. I expected the cold breath of winter to whip away the warmth, but hot sunlight flooded in along with the rich, vital fragrances of summer. "Months. Really."

When she turned to look at me again, her eyes were bright with fury. "What is it? Drugs? Depression? It's obviously not drink."

"Research."

"Fuck you, Ali. We were worried." She searched through the cupboards, slamming the doors shut. "There's literally nothing to eat. I'm going to the shop. You..." She sighed. "You stink. Have a shower."

"Yes, sir."

She was right too. The woman staring back at me from the mirror was a pale, unwashed monstrosity, like a corpse that had crawled back to life. I tried to remember when I'd last showered, but it was all a blur. "Wraith," I muttered.

By the time I returned to the kitchen, the smell of real food was driving me wild. "That smells amazing," I said, wrapping my arms around my beautiful angel. She was frying chicken in one pan, boiling pasta in another, cooking a tomato sauce with fresh basil in a third, and there was garlic bread in the oven. "How do you do it?"

"By not wasting my life chasing after fantasies."

"They're not fantasies."

"I wish they were."

I left her to it. I needed to sit. I opened the little blue box to reveal the ring, silver with a white gemstone. Simple and elegant in design, but with an aura of power that I was increasingly attuned with. Distracting and hypnotic.

A plate slammed down next to me. "Oh shit," Fiona hissed. "I thought you got rid of that thing. Please tell me you haven't been wearing it."

I snapped the lid shut and tucked in. "This is fantastic," I said, my mouth full. "Thanks."

"Hmm."

We ate in silence, my attention all on the food, Fiona's on the box on the table between us. I refilled my plate, but before diving in I passed her the book. "Qudāsu Ella-Mê. You'll like the pictures."

I watched her turn the pages, watched her eyes tracing the curves of the improbable breasts and focussing in on the exaggerated cocks. Fiona, for all her intentions to be serious and sensible, is curious by nature and easily seduced by the monstrous.

"The trouble with magic rings," I said, "is that they're really not intended for people like us. We might as well stick our fingers in electrical sockets to see what happens. Usually nothing good."

"Then why isn't there a great big warning sign. 'Danger of Death'?"

"I'll be sure to include it in the next European Standard on storage of magical items."

Fiona looked up quizzically. "Is that a joke?"

"Yes. Although maybe it's a bad analogy. Think vaccines. When exposed to small, controlled doses, we gradually build up an immunity. Otherwise we're completely vulnerable. Magic users are used to magic. They have a degree of immunity to it. They can do this..."

"Wait, no!" Fiona shouted as I took the ring from the box. Her hand shot out to stop me, but too late. "Ali, please!"

I stayed out of reach as she snatched at my hand. Her panic was real, but unnecessary. The ring's power flowed through my veins like liquid fire on the cusp of conflagration. "It's like having nitroglycerine for blood," I murmured, staring at my hands and wondering why they weren't as bright with energy as they felt.

But I kept it contained. "Nothing's happening," Fiona said eventually, more confused now than worried.

I laughed. "Really? Why don't you text your fiancé and tell him it's over, that you love me and only me."

"Okay," she said. Quite calmly, she fished out her phone and typed in the message. Just before she pressed send, I eased the ring off, releasing the pent-up energy with a skill born of months of practice and too many mistakes.

Fiona's finger hovered uncertainly in midair for a few seconds, then she put the phone down and pushed it away. "I was about to do that," she said, avoiding eye contact, her voice catching. "Really, genuinely, about to do it."

"He's not the droid you're looking for."

She scowled at me. "Damn it, Ali. You can't mess with people's heads like that."

"No," I agreed. "Although there's a few people who could do with having their heads fixed. Maybe I could be a superhero. Or maybe I could be president of America." That last bit I did à la Freddie Mercury.

"I'm being serious, Ali."

"I know. I'll take the ring back tomorrow. Maybe I can swap it for a golden lasso."

This time I was rewarded with a smile. The first I'd seen in months. "It's a shame we never really got to use it. Properly, I mean."

"For kinky futa sex?"

"Aye, that."

"It is a shame, isn't it?"

We grinned at each other like a pair of demented fools. "Just how well can you control it?" she asked.

"Pretty well, but only for a few minutes."

"Long enough, I imagine."

"Aye," I said, winking, "it's a good length."

*

Again there was fire in my veins, and I breathed it into Fiona's flesh with every soft kiss, my lips tracing a path from her ear to her neck.

"You're burning me," she whispered, between sighs of pleasure.

"Shall I stop?" I whispered, between gentle kisses.

"No."

Her fragile flesh I made malleable, even mutable. I poured the ring's transformative energies into her, while keeping a tight rein on its more insidious powers. I wanted to share this experience with Fiona the free woman, not Fiona the helpless slave. I sucked on her engorged nipples, feeling them swell between my lips to unnatural size, thrust up atop greatly enlarged breasts.

Fiona moaned with frustration. "What are you doing to me? This is torture!"

I just laughed in response, and slid down the bed until my head was between her widespread legs. My view of her face was blocked by her mountainous breasts, whose prominent cairns she rubbed with restless fingers.

There was no mistaking her arousal. The raw smell of her sweet pussy was intoxicating, and it took all my strength not to yield to the ring's urgency. I took my time instead, cruelly teasing my way up her thighs, all the while preparing her for the next and most important change. As my tongue swept at last between her labia, lapping up the gathering fluid, I completed the transformation.

Her cock grew swiftly. I circled about her prominent clit, licking, teasing, as the shaft swelled above to formidable size. I stroked it lovingly with one hand while lavishing her clit with the attention it craved.

"I'm close!" Fiona cried, though we had barely begun. "I'm close!" That last word turned into a scream as her cock stiffened. Juices gushed from her pussy, bathing my face, as her mighty cock jerked powerfully against my hand. I maintained the soft, steady rhythm on her her clit as she worked through her orgasm, while wishing I had a better view of her face and chest.

But at last her contractions eased, and I lifted my head to see that her belly and breasts, and even her face and hair and the bed around her, were striped with thick, pearly white cum. In the midst of that glorious mess, Fiona lay panting as if she had just run a marathon. I took advantage of the moment and snapped a picture of her with her phone. "Shall I upload it to Facebook?" I asked.

"No! Fuck! Don't make me laugh."

I wished we could do this forever, but I was starting to feel the magic burning me. It wasn't unbearable yet, but time was running out.

I straddled Fiona and eased down onto her, guiding her still-hard, oversized cock into my own pussy. I hadn't had a cock in me for months, and despite my arousal it was with difficulty that I took this one. Gravity conspired with sheer determination, however, and soon that thick shaft was buried within. "I forgot how good this felt," I whispered.

Fiona had caught her breath at last. She was massaging her cum-soaked breasts as she watched me impale myself on her. Now that I was done, she pushed me onto my back and lifted my ankles to her shoulders, her enormous breasts pressing against my calves. "Ready?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "But be quick. I can't do this much longer."

She grinned cheekily. "Hold on tight..."

It was good advice - not that I had anything to hold on to, but she was soon thrusting into me with such vigour I almost feared there might be some internal injury. The sensation of that cock stretching me along the full length of my vagina, coupled with friction sending shivers of pleasure racing through my clit, was however pure bliss.

I think I came almost at once, and barely had I recovered when I climaxed again, waves of divine pleasure radiating from my centre that was still under a most delicious assault.

More orgasms followed, rolling into one another, Fiona's beautiful face above me, etched with desire and determination, still wet with cum from before. A perfect moment, save for the dissonance of uncontrollable magic. "Hurry!" I pleaded.

Fiona laughed, even as she climaxed. The wild pulsing of her cock inside me, the tickling sensation of her cum erupting deep within, triggered yet another fantastic orgasm, and we convulsed together in ecstasy.

"I'm sorry," I said, pulling the ring off and dissipating its consuming energies.

"It's okay," Fiona said, coiling herself around me affectionately. We were both breathing heavily in the aftermath of that. "Thank you."

I had to laugh. "No, thank you. Best fuck of my life..."

*

I slept the whole way north, waking only as the train swept past Edinburgh's volcanic heart. The sunny skies of southern England were a distant memory, replaced by black doom-laden clouds, as if I had passed through the Black Gate into Mordor itself...

Ah, I tell a lie, but it was dreich. (Mordor's further north.) I was glad to escape into the magic shop, which was dry and relatively warm and had a fragrant air vaguely reminiscent of both ancient forests and dusty libraries.

For once, there was no sign of the old man, which was something of a relief. I had come to dispose of the ring, but now that I was there I found myself reluctant to part with it. "I have come," I said, for the quote seemed apt, "but I do not choose now to do what I came to do."

"And what," said a voice behind me, "did you come here to do?"

It was Cat Lady. I felt myself blushing as I faced her, remembering the touch of her lips between my thighs. The same lips that kissed me now, the rough surface of her tongue brushing against mine. "The ring that you bought me," I explained after. "It is too dangerous for my world."

"All magic is dangerous. It is knots in the fabric of space and time - hah! Don't look so surprised. I know more of such things than you ever will." She pulled me close for another kiss, and I melted into it. Apart from anything else, I loved the smell of her.

"I've missed your lips," I murmured.

Cat Lady chuckled. "Don't worry, I'm not finished with you." She was holding a box - the box with the ring in it. She'd picked my pocket. "I'll look after this for you."

She blew me a kiss, and before I could gather my wits and catch hold of her, she was gone, out of the shop and concealed by a curtain of Scottish rain. In my pocket where the box had been, I found a card, like a business card. An address on one side, a name on the other: Lady Catherine.