The LIAR and the WITCH Bk. 01-03

"You bitch!" I screamed, and began to move forward protectively when Anatolia raised an open hand in my direction. She never actually touched me, but I swear it was like I hit an invisible wall.

What the hell?

Any fight I had in me just dissipated as I was frozen in place, completely unable to move.

Anatolia looked at me with a self-satisfied grin as if reading my mind. As I struggled against my invisible bonds, I wondered if maybe she could do magic after all. Either that, or she had both of us in some kind of hypnotic state.

With both of us immobilized, Anatolia casually walked over to Donna' shoulder bag by the door and picked it up. At first I thought she was about to rifle through it for money until she pulled Donna's phone from it before setting the bag back down. From the couch, the prone figure of my wife mumbled something.

"Oh, not to worry Donna," answered Anatolia, obviously having seen my wife's name on her phone. "I'm not going to hurt you, ... or steal from you." She glanced at me as if knowing that this had been what I had been thinking. "I'm simply giving you my number so that you can call me tomorrow when you have questions. And trust me ... you will have questions."

To this, my wife appeared to be about as confused as I felt.

Tossing the phone back in the bag, Anatolia rubbed her hands together as she spoke to me over her shoulder. "Remember Randy, you brought this on." She spread her arms wide. "Now relax Donna, this won't hurt a bit."

Speaking in that same language that she had used earlier, Anatolia uttered what I could only assume was a lengthy incantation. As she went on, her voice grew increasingly louder and more intense until all of the lights in the house suddenly flickered out. The only illumination in the room now was coming from two glowing golden spheres, one in each of Anatolia's outstretched hands.

The witch was practically screaming as she pulled the spheres together into one large ball. She held it there above her head for a few moments before directing their combined power into a long stream of sizzling energy that she channelled directly into my wife's supine form.

Once again, I tried to scream, even as the force hit my wife, briefly encasing her in a glowing field. This field crackled at first, and then shimmered and moved, coalescing over a single area of Donna's body: her groin. Donna looked terrified as her entire body shook like it was being electrified. Mercifully, she passed out just as the energy subsided, eventually fizzling out with a loud wet pop.

With that, the lights in the house came back on, and Anatolia looked sternly at me.

"There are changes coming Randy," she said. "Learn your lesson well."

Then, she turned and slipped out the door and into the night.

Suddenly, I could move again, so I rushed to Donna's side and quickly examined her as I'd been taught in my emergency first aid course. I couldn't see any cause for alarm though. She was breathing normally, and there were no visible injuries, she just appeared to be in a very deep sleep, one that I couldn't wake her from no matter what I tried.

My mind raced.

What was I supposed to do?

Should I call the police? Should I take her to an ER?

Unfortunately, I couldn't imagine any outcome that didn't involve me having to explain to somebody that a witch had cast a spell on both of us. I wasn't sure what Anatolia had done to my wife, but I had to believe that it wasn't malicious, after all, the witch had apologized first. If Donna hadn't come out of her slumber by morning, I'd take her to the hospital then.

Eventually, I carried my wife to our bedroom and undressed her so that I could put her pajamas on. As I did so, I examined her crotch, since that's where Anatolia's weird energy spheres seemed to have been focused earlier, but I didn't see anything out of the ordinary about her neatly trimmed bush. I thought about how long it had been since I'd been this close to my wife's pussy, and sighed. It was undoubtedly going to be a hell of a lot longer until I saw it again.

If I ever saw it again.

With some effort, I pulled Donna's pajama pants into place and tucked her into bed. I looked at her laying in our bed wistfully. As much as I wanted to join her, I knew I wouldn't be welcomed here for a while, and besides, I had to put the house back the way it had been. Tomorrow would be stressful enough already, I didn't want to throw her having to clean up after me into the mix.

It was two hours later, and just after 11 PM, when I finally had things back to the way they had been the previous morning. In that time, Donna hadn't stirred at all, although she had snorted in her sleep a few times. Taking one last look at my slumbering wife, I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and went downstairs to sleep in the spare bedroom.

It was a very long night. I awoke every few hours to check on Donna, but nothing changed, and she was still in a deep sleep each time I looked in on her.

DAY 2

SUNDAY

I was finally awoken around 7 AM by a loud scream.

I rushed upstairs immediately to find my wife standing in the washroom, facing the other way, with her pajama bottoms around her ankles. Thankfully, by the time I reached her, she had finally stopped screaming.

"What?" I asked. "What's wrong?"

"This is all your fault," she mumbled into her hands.

"What?" I repeated.

"I said," she spat over her shoulder. "This is all your fault." When she turned, my eyes were immediately drawn to something hanging between my wife's legs that shouldn't have been there. It was a penis. A HUGE penis. Even flaccid, it was a good foot long. Two large testicles hung to each side of the obscene organ, each seemingly about as large as a lemon.

I took a step back involuntarily. "Is it ... is it real?" I stammered.

"Of course it's fucking real!" screamed my wife as she pulled up her pajama bottoms, stuffing the offending appendage into them as best she could. "I just took a fucking piss out of it! That's how fucking real it is!" Even though her pants were loose, the outline of the cock still bulged lewdly, and I couldn't help but stare at it in disbelief. "Do you honestly think I would be this fucking upset if this were a fucking strap-on?"

Donna had just used more curse-words in the last two minutes than I'd heard her use in the last decade, and she wasn't nearly done yet. She continued to rant and scream and curse in a voice that, at times, I was sure only a dog could hear.

"... thought that maybe last night had just been a bad dream," she continued, "but then I woke up with this ... this THING! What did that witch do to me? Is this some kind of curse? How is this even possible? Please tell me that I'm still dreaming!"

Then, all of a sudden, she stopped, and became icily calm, her head pivoting very slowly in my direction. Truth be told, this new silence was scarier than her actual screaming. She was looking right at me now, her narrowed eyes cold.

"I will never forgive you for this Randy," she said simply. "First, I find out that you've been cheating on me. Then the bitch you were doing it with—your witch—curses me!"

"She's not my witch," I countered reflexively. "It was just one time. And we didn't even do any..."

"Really?" Donna interrupted. "You're going to have this discussion now?" She wiggled her hips as if to emphasize her point, causing the outline of the sausage between her legs to swing back and forth accusingly.

Deciding quickly that she was right, and that this was neither the time nor the place for a discussion about my marital loyalty, I switched topics. As gently as I could, I reminded her that Anatolia—the witch that had hexed her—had left her phone number. "For when you have questions," I paraphrased.

I also couldn't help but recall that, shortly after Anatolia had said this, when Donna was unconscious, she had told me directly that "there were changes coming." At the time, I assumed that she'd meant changes to my relationship with my wife, not a second penis in the house.

Donna brightened at the news, but only for a moment. "Oh great," she muttered, as she exited the bathroom in search of her phone. "Now I have to call your mistress to ask her what the hell kind of curse she put on me. This just keeps getting better and better." She stopped walking a moment later to adjust the new equipment between her legs that was obviously making it difficult to walk in the manner in which she was accustomed. "Fucking hell," she mumbled loudly when she was done, before finally descending the steps awkwardly. I followed at a respectable distance, my thoughts churning.

What the fuck is going on?

Even though I was still having a hard time believing that this whole chain of events was actually happening, there was no doubt in my mind now that Anatolia was actually some kind of sorcerer, just as she had claimed to be. Still, I couldn't understand why she had gone after Donna instead of me; I had after all deceived both of them. The only possible explanation I could think of was that Anatolia had decided to torture my wife so that she, in turn, could take out her anger on me. Whatever it was, it was becoming increasingly obvious that hell had no fury like a woman with a penis scorned.

Heh. That would have been kinda funny if this whole situation weren't so fucked up.

Downstairs in the living room, Donna snatched her cell phone from the side table where I'd plugged it in to charge last night, and pulled up her Contacts list. She snorted derisively when she found what she was looking for and tapped the screen to connect.

Anatolia answered immediately. Donna had just opened her mouth to speak when Anatolia obviously beat her to it. I couldn't hear what Anatolia was saying, but the angry look on my wife's face disappeared almost immediately. Whether it was more magic on Anatolia's part, or simply the calming effect of her exotic accent, I couldn't tell.

Donna listened intently for a while, muttering the occasional "I understand," before finally looking directly at me.

"Yes, he's right here," she said. Anatolia spoke something else, to which Donna answered, "OK." Then, my wife pulled the phone from her ear, turned on the speaker, and held it out between us.

"Hello Randy," purred Anatolia's voice through the phone's tiny speaker.

"Anatolia..." I began pleadingly, but she hushed me immediately.

"It may not seem like it right now Randy, but this punishment is actually for you. You're the one that brought your wife into it, so I'm actually trying to help her out. I'm doing that by giving her something she's never had—control."

I looked at Donna confused, and she simply glared back at me sanctimoniously. I was about to speak up again, but Anatolia kept talking.

"Now, to state the obvious. Donna you've got a new cock. Congratulations! You are now one of the lucky few who has both male and female genitalia!" I was still staring at Donna's face, and her expression hadn't changed. She was being surprisingly placid about Anatolia's flippant attitude. "But," Anatolia continued, "you'll be happy to know that your new friend isn't necessarily permanent."

"Necessarily?" asked Donna.

"Yes," replied Anatolia brightly, as if she were discussing the terms of a car loan. "It will disappear in thirty days - or a full lunar cycle from now - but only under one condition." She paused, in a blatantly apparent effort to appear dramatic.

"Which is?" prompted my wife.

"You have to keep your hands off yourself," replied Anatolia suppressing a giggle. "That means no self-love for you."

"Be serious!" blurted Donna while I made a chortling sound in the background. "That's ridiculous! What are you saying? This ... thing, will go away if I don't masturbate it?"

"Exactly! Any other form of sexual activity is fine..."

While Anatolia said this, Donna looked at me distastefully and muttered, "Like I'd ever want to even touch you again."

"... but," Anatolia was saying, "if you make yourself cum even once in the next month, you'll have that cock for the rest of your life."

Donna blinked a few times. I made to open my mouth to say something, but my wife spoke up first. "I don't understand," she said to Anatolia. "What did I ever do to you?"

"Absolutely nothing," answered Anatolia kindly. "Like I said, I'm truly sorry to put you through this Donna but, believe it or not, this punishment really is for Randy. Trust me when I say, the misogynistic homophobe that he is, he's the one who is going to be having the most difficulty with your transformation."

Donna looked at me while she thought about what Anatolia had just said. Her face was scrunched up tightly as she sucked at her teeth - a habit of hers when she was nervous or upset.

I couldn't figure out why she wasn't more furious with Anatolia. Sure, Donna had never really been one to express her anger—at least until this morning—but I couldn't understand where that rage had gone to during this phone call. That's when it occurred to me. Donna had likely already figured out something that was only now dawning on me: if we picked a fight with a witch that had cursed one of us once already, then that witch was apt to make things even more difficult for us. There was a way out already. Although it wasn't a particularly convenient one, it was still better than the alternative.

For once, I had to admire my wife's restraint.

"Fine," Donna said finally. "A month without masturbating. I've gone longer."

Anatolia laughed almost tauntingly. "It won't be that easy I'm afraid, Donna," she said. "How do I put this? Your new friend is going to make you feel things you've never felt before. You're going to have strong desires and appetites, and your libido will be heightened ... rather significantly, I'm afraid. In fact, it's going to put most teenaged boys to shame."

Donna's eyes widened and shifted down. This was the first indication of fear that I'd seen on her face, and I followed her gaze to her crotch. The outline of her thick new appendage was clear, nestled along the top of her left leg. I was pretty sure that I saw it twitch, and couldn't tell if there was a wet spot on her pajama pants or whether it was simply a shadow. When I looked back up at Donna's face, I noticed that her cheeks were now flushed.

Seeing my wife's stress had a carbon copy effect on me. I blinked a few times as I felt the blood pumping in my ears; I was trying to swallow, even though it was getting more and more difficult to even breathe.

Off in the distance somewhere, Anatolia was still speaking. "Oh, and there will be certain other, well... abilities that I won't tell you about," giggled the witch who was clearly enjoying herself. "I'll just let you figure them out on your own, but trust me, you'll enjoy them. Both of you. OK, maybe one of you more than the other. Oh, and one last word of advice Donna, you're going to want to drink PLENTY of water over the next month." Then, Anatolia laughed one final time, and was gone.

No sooner had the line gone dead then my wife was yelling again. "Like I could even think about having sex! I may have to live with this ... thing for a month, but I'm way too upset about it to ever consider playing with it!" She shuddered as if to emphasize how repulsive was this thought.

"As for you Randy," she continued. "You're living in the basement from now on and, assuming that your witch is telling the truth and this ... behemoth does go away by itself thirty days from now, we're going to see a divorce lawyer."

She stomped up the stairs, muttering something about how her friends had been right about me all along, and slammed our bedroom door behind her. Once inside her room, she screamed out once, in a voice loud enough to shake the windows, and then was silent.

I stood in the living room looking up the stairs after Donna for the longest time without doing anything beyond blinking and breathing. Although my thoughts were jumping around all over the place rapidly, they still kept coming back to the same place: my wife now had a penis.

To say that I had no frame of reference from which to formulate an opinion is an understatement. This was magic. How do you make sense of something that isn't supposed to happen outside of a movie or a fairy tale? Still, I was struggling to analyze the events rationally, even if the logic of it all kept throwing me off.

First, purely from my own vanity, was the fact that I wasn't used to seeing cocks that were larger than my own. At close to 10 inches erect, my own penis was nothing to laugh at, and had generally always been the largest one in the locker room.

But now...

Well, now, it wasn't even the biggest dick in my own home, and I was feeling something I'd never felt before in terms of penis size. I was feeling intimidated. By my own wife no less! I had to keep reminding myself that Donna was still, after all, a woman, even if she did—at least temporarily—have more between her legs than me.

My wife was now a woman with a cock.

It was both exotic and disturbing all at once. The concept should have been enough to shrink my genitals faster than a polar bear dip, but it wasn't. In fact, my body was perversely betraying me.

I'd seen pics of hermaphrodites on the web, but they'd never done a thing for me. Maybe that was because most of them were obviously dudes with fake tits, makeup, and a wig. Donna, well, she was different. Her body was so obviously feminine, with its soft curves in the form of her huge (natural) tits, wide hips, and shapely ass. She was now what the internet would call a dickgirl, or a futanari.

So, the addition of a huge dick to a female body should have been shocking for me, but it wasn't. At least not as much as I'd have thought it should be. Although I was definitely feeling revulsion, I had to admit that I was also turned on, and this had me worried about my status as a red-blooded, fully heterosexual male. Futanari was like a gateway drug. Appreciating it was halfway between being straight and being gay. If I submitted to the arousal it caused in me with the justification that it was because Donna was a woman first, then how long before I went all the way? How long, if you'll excuse the pun, before I tried something harder?

Being a faggot was the last thing I wanted, and I was damned if Donna or, by extension, Anatolia turned me into one.

The LIAR, the WITCH, and my wife's new WARDROBE

BOOK TWO:

THE ADJUSTMENT

by

CHARLES P. LINGHAM

DAY 3

MONDAY

I awoke late this morning and, for the second time in as many days, was disappointed to discover that the events of the last few days were not, in fact, a nightmare. I could hear Donna thumping around upstairs and, since it was well past the time when she should have normally left for work, I concluded that she had called in sick today. Can't say as I blamed her. I would have done the same thing if I suddenly had several pounds of man-meat swinging around between my legs that hadn't been there before.

Trying to keep to my regular routine, I went upstairs to the kitchen, turned on the radio, brewed a big pot of coffee, made some breakfast (enough for both of us—just in case), and then sat and ate it by myself. I could still hear Donna moving around upstairs, but she didn't come down. I lingered a little longer than usual while I cleaned things up, eventually retreating to my downstairs office to try and get some writing done.

Not surprisingly, it was hard to concentrate. My mind kept drifting back to the events of the weekend. Of getting caught cheating on my wife with what turned out to be some kind of witch. And then that same witch hexing not me, but my wife, by transforming her into a well-endowed Futanari. A dickgirl.

My tiny wife now had a cock that would put most porn stars to shame. One that, according to the witch who cursed her with it, would go away after a month if Donna could resist masturbating. There was more too, but I hadn't figured out what it all meant yet. And a very big part of me didn't want to think about what I thought it meant.