LeafTilde
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Spellbound Part II (Story)
🕑 Added 2021-06-05 21:39:44 +0000 UTCHey! This is last month's poll story, but I figured it also worked as a sequel to my Trans Witch/Librarian story, Spellbound! You can read it here if you want!
Anywho, this story is weird and features some spicy eldritch symbiote/human action. Tentacles, weird cum, all that kinda stuff. If you want to see a cutie get fucked by a scary shoggoth, continue on!
Also there's a lot of mind play in this one. Control, memory stuff, messing with the brain in general. It has a positive ending, promise! But if that's not your flavour of cake, I totally understand. Just a heads up!
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“You’re doing great!” Val said, then added, “Careful with the edges, though. Remember: witchfire still convects the air. Let it bleed too much heat and you’ll be explaining to the school why their library burned down.”
Diane blinked sweat from her eyes and refocused. She was glad she wore that light sundress for this, the light fabric helping her survive the heat. Her wrist rolled ever so slightly, adjusting the invisible threads with which she controlled the spell. The dancing green embers in the center of the room slid from the bookcases that lined the room and back into the central ritual circle.
“Sorry. This is a lot...harder to control...without my focus,” Diane said through gritted teeth. Her eyes locked onto the silver locket that lay on the table, just out of reach.
“You can’t rely on having a wand or an amulet all the time. Practicing magic by hand strengthens your power overall and makes you more resilient.”
Diane sketched a shaky nod and concentrated. The witchfire in the circle separated into three equally sized balls of fire. Then, with a spin of her wrist, the balls orbiting a point in the center. They rotated like miniature planets, swirling in a silent ballet to Diane’s own whims.
“Perfect!” Val declared, clapping once, “You’re a natural, I swear.” Val’s teaching voice was never chastising or patronizing. A calm, confident explanation can do so much more than a cutting remark ever would.
Diane let go of the spell, and the fire vanished. Only when the last flicker disappeared did she relax. Holding such power in place was like restraining a lion by a leash. It was possible, but it took great effort and was not wise to do for long. She bent down, hands on her knees, sucking in air.
“You did great!” Val patted her on the back, placing a large chilled water bottle on the table. Diane gulped it down.
“Thanks. I felt like I was going to crumple. Bare casting’s fucking exhausting.”
Her mentor laughed. Their relationship had developed in the succeeding months. Somewhere between friends, student/mentor, and, occasionally, lover. Neither had discussed the exact specifics of where they were on the spectrum of “a thing” vs “not a thing”, but she’d been over to Val’s house for supper and Diane had invited her as a +1 to a family barbeque.
When it came to magic, she was an honest but supportive teacher. Val was still much farther along in her understanding of the craft. But she’d told Diane that there were moments of true intuitive brilliance in the younger witch’s abilities. True potential, something she could cultivate into something wonderful...or something altogether terrible.
“Hey, it sucks but it’s a skill you gotta learn. Otherwise any John Q. Witchfinder can take your focus and leave you screwed. Speaking of which…I don’t suppose you want to finally tell me why you picked that locket?” Val asked.
“I told you,” Diane said, “It’s a family heirloom. It was my great grandmother’s, when she was in the 588th Night Bomber Regiment during WWII.”
“But it’s a locket, right? What do you got in there?” Val’s voice was gently chiding, but Diane’s face flushed all the same. A focus had to be something deeply personal, an item that both moored someone to the physical world while simultaneously anchoring their emotional energies, giving their magical power a lens with which to aim itself. You couldn’t use some random family heirloom, something deep had to connect you and the item.
Not ready to disclose what was in the locket yet, she dodged the question. “Do you think I’m ready for a Familiar?”
Val’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, lookie here Ms. ‘I Didn’t Burn Down The Library This Time’, she thinks she’s ready for a Familiar!”
Her protégé huffed, putting her hands on her hips. “It’s been months since the last time! I’ve been practicing my summoning circles, I know several binding rituals off by heart...c’mon, half my class already has one. Jenny’s got a dang cacodemon for cripe’s sake.
Val let the silence drag on as she agonizingly pantomimed being deep in thought. Diane looked at her with exasperation, mentally screaming at her to hurry this along. But, if she wanted more magical toys to play with, she’d have to pretend to have the patience and maturity to deserve it.
“I suppose you’re ready for a Familiar.”
Diane beamed, momentarily forgetting her fatigue. “I promise it’ll go better than last time!”
“Couldn’t go worse,” Val said, replacing the materials and reagents they’d used for the spell back into the separate cubbies along the wall.
“Do you have any suggestions for where I should start looking?”
Val tapped her chin, visibly lost in thought. “That’s...a good question. You have a lot of raw power, that much is a given. You’ll need one with an unusually large reservoir. We don’t want to…”
“...explode another cat demon?”
“Yes. It’s a bit messy. I’ll give it some thought! Check out the Omnibus Maleficarum for ideas, too.” Val yawned and stretched. “I think I’ll be turning in soon. You okay with closing up?”
Diane nodded. “I won’t be here long after you. I’ll likely have a long day tomorrow.”
Val packed up her satchel and purse, double checked for her grimoire, and took off. She stopped at the threshold of the library and looked back. Something nagged at the back of her mind. Diane had been an outstanding student these last few months, and an even better assistant in the library itself. It wasn’t like she was going to burn the place down if left to her own devices. She was responsible...after a fashion. With some reluctance, Val pushed past the double doors and into the brisk night air.
She’d been so caught up in her search for the book Val had mentioned to watch her go. The Omnibus was one of the older texts in the library, and thus could be found in the Rare section near the back, surrounded by warding circles and magical defences. They’d had a rash of young necromancers try to get in and pilfer their copy of Nostradamus’ Livre des Morts. Luckily they were more goth than gothic horror, and were easily dispatched by the outer wards.
“Aha!” she said to herself, spotting the faded title on the book’s leather spine and gingerly pulling the large tome out from the shelf. She had to use both hands to heft the surprisingly heavy book, carrying it over to one of the large reading tables in the centre of the library. She blew away a layer of dust, something magic books seemed to accumulate disproportionately, and lifted the cover.
Her breath caught at the sight of a remarkable illustration. A circle of witches gathered around a fire, the flames depicted so realistically she could practically hear them crackle. Above them, the stars swam in an infinite, inky void, their light both miniscule and magnificent. It was by far one of the more beautiful images she’d seen in this library, and all from a book that dated back to the 16th century. It had been rebound several times, but the individual pages were the same as they’d been to those brave souls practicing magic in a time of fear and ignorance.
The book itself served as a sort of catalogue of the entities that were found and described by the author. A phonebook for demons, imps, minor fey, and other creatures of similar import. Each section ended in a description of the ritual needed to make contact. The binding of said creatures was not described, but was the tacit purpose of writing this book in the first place.
Flipping through the pages, Diane came across a number of entries that had been defaced. Some with thick X’s written in ancient, flaking red ink. Others with more modern stamps that said “OBLITERATED” or “ABOMINATION”. On one, someone had simply written “Too Loud” in nearly illegible scrawl in the margins. Why anyone would wreck such a gorgeous book was beyond her, though she fully intended to heed the warnings on the ones she found.
She reached the halfway point of the book without finding anything close to what she wanted. She’d been taught that a witch would know exactly whether or not a creature would be their Familiar just on sight. As remarkable as the illustrations are, she hadn’t seen a single one that she’d wish by her side for all eternity. It worried her, gnawing doubt that she could truly be the witch she wanted to be.
Then, on the second to last page, an illustration caught her eye. A strange, amorphous shape pockmarked by a constellation of bright dots. Slithery tentacles wrapped around a stone pillar, while others reached out in several directions, as if seeking prey. The detail was impeccable. She could almost pick out every oozing pore, every droplet of ichor that slid from its membranous body.
“And just what the heck are you?” Diane asked. It looked like no other creature she’d seen in the book, and when she turned to the description, all she found were more questions.
‘Zol’goth the Forbidden,’ it said, ‘Reservoir of impossible power. Do not believe its lies. Do not allow its taint to poison you. Do not-’ The words faded to a curled line, as if the quill was dragged off the page before the statement could be completed.
“Well...that’s foreboding.” The witch flipped the page to see if there was more information, but the book ended in a blank page. No details on how to contact or how to erect a binding circle, none of the critical information she’d need to summon it. Though, with a warning like that, she figured that was for the best.
“I guess it’s back to cats,” she said with a resigned sigh, closing the book. The Grimorium Felinium was in the common texts section, unless it’d been checked out recently. She stepped out to fetch it and once again plum the depths of catastrophe.
After an extended search, she found it in the returns cart. Someone must have put it there rather than putting it back on the shelf because it wasn’t in the system already. With a frustrated shake of her head she carried it back to the reading table in the centre of the library. But when she rounded the last corner, something prickled at the back of her mind.
The Omnibus Maleficarum was open again.
Diane scrunched her brow. She could have sworn she’d closed it before stepping away. Putting the Grimorium to the side, she shut the old tome up then, with a burst of inspiration, put one of the small reading lamps on top of it. That should take care of that, she thought, and returned her attention to the book of cat demons.
Before she was more than a dozen pages in, however, she heard a rocking. Her head snapped to the source: a chair at the edge of the little reading space, wobbling back and forth. At first, she wondered if it could be a wild animal loose in the library. It was not unheard of; a raccoon had once made off with an untranslated copy of Bible II. But when she stepped over to investigate, her heart stopped.
A thick, clear fluid dripped down from the chair leg. She touched it.
“Oh no.”
Diane dashed back to the Omnibus, slapped the lamp to the floor, and roughly flipped through the pages. Hoping that her worst fears wouldn’t be confirmed, her heart stopped when, at the last page, all she found were the smattering of cryptic warnings. The elaborate, detailed illustration was nowhere to be found.
--He never finished the book, you know--
The words hammered into her mind, bouncing around her skull like a low calibre bullet. She clutched her head. Psychics. Goddess did she hate psychics.
She walked backwards to the summoning circle she’d used for the witchfire ritual. The circle of salt would still be intact, a barrier to keep magical entities in or, if necessary, out.
“I warn you, creature! I’m no hedge witch. You won’t enjoy evoking my ire!” Her voice trembled with the words.
--Please, spare me. I’ve been two dimensional for centuries, I know a paper tiger when I see one.--
Another noise. She spun just in time to see books clatter to the floor, a bookcase close to teetering over. She rushed to catch it, righting it at the last moment. Wincing, she realized only too late that she’d been diverted from the circle.
It was there when she turned around, prowling over an empty table like an overconfident predator. Its means of locomotion was impossible to decipher, a sort of indistinct slouching that pushed it towards her and left a disgusting, sticky trail in its wake. Fibrous tendrils shot out from its gelatinous body, pulled back in, merged, reformed, split again. It was as if there was no form that this creature felt truly comfortable in, like it had to keep changing lest it freeze in place.
--They called him the Mad Walloon. He was not mad, of course. He could just open his eyes further than most. Far better with protection spells than he was with evocations. After I drained him, I found the wards around his workshop were quite impregnable. I had a difficult time coming up with a way to escape--
As it spoke, no orifice like a mouth appeared. This was purely mental communication. She’d heard of such things, but only in passing. She erected preliminary barriers around her mind and begun to step ever so slowly to the side, hoping to round the horror and get back to the circle.
“I’ve heard of you,” she ventured, hoping to keep it talking. “They wrote about you in the Canticles of Salem, right? They called you the Dark Wretch. A Shambler. Shoggoth.”
The creature shuddered, ejecting fluid in a disgusting facsimile of a spit of disgust.
--Shoggoth? Pah! Weak facsimiles, shades of my form. I am Zol’goth. I am the end of fate, the life in the shadows.--
She bolted for the circle. Before she could put her foot through its limit, something slimy latched onto her ankle! She screamed, caught unprepared for such a direct attack. One whispered incantation and her fingers turned colder than liquid helium for a fraction of a second. It was enough to flash-freeze the upper portion of the tendril that had grasped her. The beast howled in outrage as a portion of its body snapped off. Though she was able to pull away, the severed section quickly turned back to a fluid and rejoined its central mass.
More tentacles lashed around her wrist, yanking her back from safety. Another glomped onto her mouth, preventing her from repeating the spell.
--Damn your magic, human. Why can’t you just accept me as your god as your ancestors once did?--
Diane tried to tell him exactly where he could stick his delusions of divinity, but the mass of wriggling goo pressed against her mouth prevented her from speaking. Instead, she tried to bite it, but it was like trying to bite through a rubber ball. As she struggled, more tendrils laced over her limbs, yanking her back from the circle. She writhed. But it was no use.
Then the worst thing imaginable happened.
--Are you...getting aroused by this?--
Her face turned beet red. They temporarily stopped struggling with one another as they tried to reconcile this information, the tentacle sliding back from her lips.
“N-no,” she lied. Hormones might have changed a lot of things about her, but her arousal was still quite visible against the light fabric of her dress. The mass of tentacles slid between her legs, its moist touch making her shudder.
--YOU ARE. In fact, you’re channelling significantly more magical energy than when I first spotted you. You are truly my kind of deviant, Diane of House Jablonski.--
“It’s just all this wriggling!” she tried to explain. But the movement resumed once again, and she was stuck with the embarrassment of being aroused by an evil tentacle monster. She wasn’t that much of a pervert...right?
But Zol’goth didn’t accept that excuse. Thin ropes of slime slithered up her dress and around her panties to cradle her cock. It stroked her gingerly, almost lovingly.
--You will make a fine toy, Diane--
“Wait, how do you know my-” she sputtered, then her eyes widened with shock. In all this embarrassment, she’d let down her mental barriers! She tried to slam them shut again, but they refused to close. It was like closing a door but there’s the grossest waterbed ever in the way.
--I can see it all, Diane. I can see your thoughts...your memories--
A flash. It was six months ago. She was over at Val’s house for another study session. They’d gotten bored and put on that show with the hot magic boys again. Somewhere in between episodes they’d started making out.
“Hey,” Val had said, pulling out something from beneath the bed, “I want to try something.”
Her hand emerged, holding a vibrating wand. But when Diane squinted, the image changed. It was like a glitching computer program, flickering and popping in and out, until the wand at changed into a fleshlight. And not just any portable pussy, this one was pitch black, save for the ‘hole’ which glowed an ethereal purple.
“I...I don’t know about that,” she remembered saying. But Val ran her hand down Diane’s back, making her shiver. Her one (of many) weak points!
“Don’t worry, it’ll be fun!” Val replied, though her librarian pal had gained about twice as many teeth as she usually had. Something was wrong about this...something wasn’t quite-
“Ooooh!~” Diane cried. The fleshlight latched onto her like it was alive, its interior wet and warm and oh so inviting. She jerked, weakly thrusting into it as her atrophied dick tried to handle the overstimulation.
“See?” Val said with a chuckle, throwing her hair back, “It’s fun to give into your urges now and then. No need to hold back, go ahead and squirt to your heart’s content.”
It usually took more than just penile stimulation to get her over the edge. Val knew that! But when the toy started to lick her, Diane realized it might be the exception to the rule. She relaxed back onto the comforting sheets, Val expertly stroking her off while the fleshy toy did its work. Her orgasm arose in short order, but she didn’t resist her need. It built and built, her whole lower half tingling as the tension reached its climax.
“I’m gonna...I’m gonna!” Diane squealed, her hips jerking back and forth instinctually. The dream popped out of existence, and she had just enough time to realize she’d been duped before she seized up in orgasm, squirting several weak spurts into the suckling tendril wrapped around her dick.
--Such insignificant production! We’ll have to change that right away. Can’t have my thralls shooting blanks, now can we?--
She could only whimper in response as her orgasm ebbed, the knowledge that she’s just inseminated an eldritch horror making her want to wail with despair. Perhaps sensing this, a tendril forced its way into her mouth, prying open her jaw once more and sliding in and out in perverse facsimile to fellatio. She tried to bite down once more but her muscles were so tired that in the end she gave up the fight, letting it facefuck her while keeping her airways mercifully open. At least there was that.
--There’s a good girl. Obedience has its rewards--
The tentacle in her mouth erupted, forcing fluid into her mouth. The taste was distinctive, and to an intoxicating mix of shame and arousal she realized the creature was feeding her a tainted mixture of her own cum mixed with its own. With so much liquid in her mouth she was forced to swallow, sending more of its malevolent influence pulsing down her throat.
--Good. Drink deep of my essence. Each droplet corrupts your body, making you more my pathetic puppet.--
She gurgled, whimpering inside as the corrupting brew spilled down her throat. Another tendril, this time much larger than the rest, pushed against her backside. Diane tried to keep it out, squeezing her muscles tight. It prodded her hole, covering it in slippery goo, waiting for a moment of weakness to-
Flash. Another memory. Or was it? Diane was bent over her bed on all fours. The room was full of people she knew. Classmates, teachers, all engaged in carnal acts. Jamie from Advanced Thaumaturgy stuffed his cock into the mouth of Lisa, her oldest friend from her hometown. Mia and Lucy, two gals from her weekly tabletop group, fingered each other while kissing with impossibly long tongues. Jenna, smiling, shot a huge load into her own face, licking up her own cum like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Hands gripped her waist, bringing her back to the bed.
“Relax, babe.” It was Val’s voice. She looked over her shoulder, and the librarian was there. Sort of. Her eyes were glowing, her skin a pale violet. But the expression on her face was of pure, animalistic lust. The same expression that had made Diane melt into putty. She obeyed, and was rewarded with a slickened shaft sliding into her ass.
“Aah!” she cried. It was like Val’s cock knew exactly where to go, brushing against her prostate in a way that not even a purpose-built toy could do. Cum drooled from her half-hard prick into the waiting mouth of...Val?
A second version of her girlfriend latched around her dripping cock, lapping up every drop that slid out of her. This one had eight eyes, like a spider, each blinking in unison as they gazed up at her.
“We can be whatever you want,” the Val at her back said, punctuating the statement with a sharp thrust. “We can dominate you, bending you to our every whim. Treating you like our toy while praising you when you behave like the good girl we know you to be.”
“Or,” the Val underneath her popped off her cock, replacing it with the stroking of a seven fingered hand, “We can be your own personal fucktoy. Do you want to take us? Use us? Bend us over and blow our back walls out in public?” The second Val’s mouth shifted, becoming an identical purple pussy to the fleshlight she’d used before. She slid onto Diane’s shaft, which now engorged to a size it had never reached, easily eight inches and growing. It was purple from head to hilt now, each heartbeat sending another squirt of cum into her tainted partner’s eager hole. She grabbed a hold of the second Val’s head and matched rhythm with the first’s thrusts into her ass, reaching a perfect blissful sync that saw each withdrawal from Val 2 coincide with Val 1’s cock gliding against her prostate.
After a few seconds, or an eternity, she exploded. Thick jets of glowing spunk poured into Val’s mouthpussy. At the same time, her ass felt hot seed pour inside her. Val 1 was breeding her, using her like the precious little fuckpet she longed to be, all while Val 2 swallowed her jizz eagerly, all while moaning in a strange, syrupy voice.
It was perfect. It was addictive. It was...it was…
Not real.
Neither of these women was Val. This was all some...sick, twisted fantasy!
She closed her eyes, focusing on the incongruities. Val would never say those things, no orgy had been hosted in her bedroom, and there’s no way her cock would produce that much after two years on HRT. The world around her tore apart, like sliding her hand through gossamer. When she opened her eyes again, she was back in the library. The slime had almost completely covered her body now, all those wonderful sensations in the dream just ploys to get her under Zol’goth’s sway.
--IMPOSSIBLE. No one’s that strong!--
With her power alight, Diane let it flow over her. The spell for witchfire came easily in this state, and her whole body crackled with verdant, ethereal flames. The creature screamed in outrage and pain, fleeing from her for a moment. Exhausted, Diane fell to her knees. Her arms felt like lead, her eyelids heavy. All she wanted to do was roll over, give up.
--You may have powerful magical energy about you. But you have no focus! Like the Mad Walloon before you, I will drain you dry!--
Her eyes went wide. That was it! With her last ounce of strength, she leapt for the table. Not for the book, for that was the creature’s hiding place, not its prison. Her hand closed around the tiny silver pendant she’d left there as a consequence of her training. Tucking into a roll, she came to her feet with the locket in her hand.
--What? A talisman?-- The beast quivered, gargling a nightmarish sound that had to be its version of laughter, --What is it? Some scrap of the True Cross? An icon of Hecate?--
“No,” she said. Her eyes burst into green flame as she channeled her inner reserves through the focus. She popped the latch, revealing a black and white image. “It’s a picture of my girlfriend.”
Zol’goth screamed. Chains of solid witchfire lashed out around it, scalding its slimy skin wherever it touched. It tried to slither away, deform and slither out of her grasp, but more restraints snapped into existence wherever it stretched, locking it down. A glowing image of a heavy padlock lock appeared in the centre of the web of chains, its shackle sliding in place.
--You...you cannot do this!--
“I just did. Power of Love, bitch. Maybe if you spent less time expositing and more time focusing, you’d be a match for me.”
It screamed in her mind, but the voice was hollow now. The psychic force within reduced by an order of magnitude.
--I am Zol’goth! I am the Unseen One! You cannot...you cannot!--
The magical padlock clicked into place. Zol’goth’s wails of outraged shrank with its apparent size, reducing down to a mere puddle of its former glory. Its voice in her mind became incoherent, uncoordinated. She picked up the coherent blob of ooze, the graceful winner of a battle for her very soul.
“Don’t worry, you won’t go back to your book. I got a new job for you.”
***
The ring of the bell heralded Val’s arrival back to her beloved library. She hummed her way to the break room to drop off her purse and satchel bag, pulling out a trio of books. One she’d finished, another two from her personal collection that her students were interested in checking out. As she stacked the books on their little lunch table, however, she sniffed the air. Something was off.
Diane’s head popped from around the corner. “Hey!”
Val’s breath caught. “Goddess, Diane, you scared the Dickens out of me! Did you...have you been here the whole night?”
She laughed. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I just started thumbing through the Omnibus and must have lost track of time! Sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Val replied with a wave of her hand, “It wouldn’t be the first time that happened. So, did you find a Familiar?”
Diane’s face visibly reddened, her hands worrying at the hem of her dress. “Well, you could say that. I might need some time to thinking about it. Think long and hard. Y’know, big decision and all that.”
“Of course, take your time. But first, get some dang sleep girl! You got classes, y’know.”
Val returned to the door to see her out. Diane shuffled back with her backpack, the weight of its contents visibly sagging and pulling at her shoulder straps.
“Friday night?” Diane asked, referring to their weekly catchup session at Val’s place that often bled into something more.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Diane beamed and skipped her way to the exit. As she reached for the pushbar, Val spotted something slithering beneath the woman’s skirt. For a moment, the fabric lifted to reveal dark purple tendrils snaking in and out of her gaping hole. Val’s student shuddered, her hand gripping a nearby bookcase tight. In less than a second, the skirt was back down, and Diane was walking away as if nothing at all was the matter.
Val turned on her second sight to confirm the presence of ethereal bindings, then smiled. It looked as if Diane had found her Familiar after all!
Comments
Lucy Severine
I love it 👀 I hope we get a Spellbound III eventually
Leaf
Guest starring the Totally Original Character Val Allens! Glad you liked it <3
Ana Valens
Perfect ending 👀💦
