I liked the effect my ‘costume’ was having on him. I decided I’d leave it on while we started. In this kind of situation I knew that it would be a while before he got to touch me anyway and it was pretty exhilarating to be part satyr. When we walked into my apartment I think he was a little surprised at the surroundings.

I was lucky enough to not have roommates to deal with. The family had plenty of money from way back and Mom didn’t think my dealing with non-witches looking over my shoulder all the time was the kind of life lesson I needed. Bless her heart. Because of that, I was able to keep an apartment that didn’t look like a college crap-house. No posters on the wall curling down around thumbtacks marred my walls. There were a few pieces of art hanging. The furniture matched and was clean. There weren’t dishes in the sink. There were candles everywhere. It was impressive for an 18 year old and it went to work on Calvus immediately.

“Michael, take your shoes off at the door. When you are done come take mine off for me.” I’d already sat down on the sofa and put my feet up. He did as he was told. He didn’t manage to hide the cringe when I called him by his birth name, though. That one hit the mark. “Now, strip down to your underwear.”

“Yes, sir.”

And he did. I was very turned on by all of this. I’d never played this kind of scene out during sex. Normally my taking over was in meetings or work groups for classes. It was a bit of a defense mechanism in those situations. This was different, though. This felt good. It felt good to have this guy standing in front of me in nothing but a jock strap rubbing his dick. He evidently thought that’s what underwear were. I was glad.

“Did I tell you to touch your cock? Take your hands off of it.” Having watched a lot of porn was finally paying off. “Kneel on the floor but don’t come any closer to me. I want to see what you’ll look like if you get to suck my dick.”

I’d turned the heat up when we walked in. My apartment was getting very warm. We were both starting to sweat. It ran down his tight stomach to the waistband of his jock. I was pleased to see that I’d been right about his waist. He was built just like I’d imagined. Thinking about that concerned me. I had to make sure I’d not altered his body with my imaginings. Nope, this was all him.

The sweat was having a pretty sexy effect on my fur. Wet fur sticking to six-pack abs is a lot more arousing than I’d have thought before I saw it myself. My cock was straining at the drawstring of my pants. Calvus’ eye seemed to be trying to conjur up the ability to see through fabric. It made me squirt a little precum that marked my crotch nicely.

“I’m going to change clothes. Don’t fucking move.”

“Please don’t.”

“Please don’t what?”

“Please don’t, sir.”

“What don’t you want me to do?”

“I’d really like you to stay in that, sir.”

“I’m not going to keep this fur on my body if I’m going to let you have my dick.”

“Please don’t change, Glistern? I know it’s not glued on. I’ve seen that before. Please stay like that. You are so sexy like that.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I do. I… do.”

Just then I saw it. He was more like me than I’d thought. He was pulling magic. Just a trickle, but that’s all the Grans ever saw me pull. I realized that I was as big a fool as they had been. “Show me what you can do.”

“I can’t do anything. I’m not like you. No witches in my family. I can play at it. That’s all. Parlor tricks.”

“Get out.”

“What? Why?” Such panic in his face. Desperation was all over him.

“I won’t feed a liar.”

“I’m not lying! It’s true, sir!”

“Show me a trick, then, witch.”

In a flash, purple eyes. He was able to do small things like I had done when I was a boy. Then from purple back to blue. He was just like me when I first started. This was my lucky day. A sub who would do as he was told and who needed magical training. It was like getting a lover, brother and slave all in one day.

“Take off your jock. Show me your cock.” Beautiful. Uncut, leaking, bone hard. “Show me your ass.” He turned around and I saw the two melons surrounding a little pink pucker that was winking like it’d never been touched. “Back your ass up to me. Stay on your knees.” Right up to the edge of the couch is where he stopped. His ass was threatening to pull my balls out of my pants of it’s own accord. Always willing to help a guy out, that’s me.

I couldn’t get my dick to that hole with him so close to the sofa so I put my bare foot on his ass and shoved. He flew forward and landed on his stomach on the floor. “Stay down.” I stood up and dropped my pants. “Keep your eyes down.” My cock was almost as far up as the fur lining my stomach. This was going to be less than easy. Evidently I grew my dick even bigger when I took on this shape. I wasn’t expecting a complaint.

I pulled him up onto his knees and crouched behind him. Fucking is better with the top still on his feet. Leverage is key to really beating a hole up. I had to really tip my hips forward to get the angle right, though, with my cock coming out of that sheath. I grabbed his hair to give me a good handle for maneuvering him and slowly, painfully, slid every last inch of my dick up his hole. Once it was hilt deep I just let it rest in there. It was a tight hole and my dick loved it. He tried to hide the pain of my thick cock sliding in his ass, but he let out some soft yelps.

I pulled some leather bracelets out of the air that were a lot like the ones he’d been wearing when I’d last seen him and put them on his wrists while he was on my dick. The only difference with these was the addition of a couple of D-rings on each one. This allowed them to be clipped to each other and to something else at the same time. I stood up and cock-walked him back to the bedroom with his wrists bound to each other. Magic makes spontaneity easy. I could whip things up at the last minute, so to speak. When we got there I pulled his hands over his head and snapped two clips into place keeping him stretched to his tiptoes suspended from two ropes that were now hanging from the ceiling.

Straining legs do amazing things to the muscles in a guy’s hole. His shitter was milking my dick and I didn’t have to do a thing. So, I pulled my cock out without warning and walked away from him. The whimper he let out almost made me nut right then and there.

“Shut the fuck up. Quit whining. I’m not going to fuck some pussy boy.”

“Yes, sir.”

I walked into the other room and left him there. I expected he’d be a little panicked. I expected that he’d be a little scared. It was evident that I was the only one in this kind of scenario for the first time. He stood there like a champ and waited until I got back.

—————————————————

Please let me know what you think and where you’d like to see things go.

Related posts:

1. Witch’s Son: A Tale of a Tail (Part 1)
2. Witch’s Son: A Tale of a Tail (Part 2)
3. Witch’s Son: Wrestling with College (Part 1)

The week between the meeting and the party was a quick one. I think I can say that for pretty much every week of college except for the two weeks leading up to midterms, finals or any vacation. I didn’t have to do anything for the costume, of course. I simply made myself into a Satyr for the night. I liked, and still like, the Roman style satyrs better than the Greek. The Greeks just add a horse’s ears and tail to a normal looking guy. The Romans, though, offered us the goat legs and hooves of what we think of today. I was looking pretty hot as a Pan-like fawn.

I had to make sure it didn’t look as real as it actually was or people would notice. I had to put on pants, for example, because just furring up my body and going naked would have been noticed. I’m very attentive to detail, though, and was looking pretty hot in the mirror. I sheathed my cock just like the little statue of Pan that I used as my model. My dick head was just visible out the top of the fur scabbard that encased it while it was flaccid. When hard, though, it was slid into full view and looked, well, incredible. That would have drawn a little too much attention, though. So, on with the pants. I did let the fur grow up my abs, though, into a point that ended just under my chest. I put a hole in the back of the pants so that my little tail could poke through. I thought people would just think that was funny. It is, however, what got me in trouble in the end. I had ears in the right place and read online how a person could use some foam padding to make their legs look like they were hinged backwards like an animals and how to make ‘hooves.’ I couldn’t have explained knees that bent the wrong way and a lack of human feet so I used the foam bits to finish it all off.

I showed up for the party a little late and, as instructed, avoided the bar. I’d done my own ritual at home to make sure all that was important to me happened. Samhain is the pagan new year. It’s an important Sabbat. When I got to the party I started looking for Calvus/Michael. I had brought him a little gift. I know it’s was possibly the gayest thing ever but my Mom taught me never to show up to a ritual empty handed. The person leading should always receive a gift of some sort and I assumed he’d be leading us tonight.

I was right. It was because of this, in fact, that he was nowhere to be found. I didn’t see him until it was time to gather for the ritual. There was, as there always is, plenty of time to give him the token, however.

“Merry meet, Glistern. How are you on this All Hallow’s Eve?”

(Naughty pics after the jump)

A Satyr

“Uh, merry meet, Calvus. I’m well. You?” I wasn’t expecting the merry meet. Who were these people? What were they reading? He was painfully hot in his costume, though. Bacchus, God of wine and ecstacy. Who doesn’t love Bacchus?

“Very well, thanks. And very excited. I think this will be our best ritual yet. We are at that point when we are remembering all the things we didn’t remember, though. I need to go look for a couple of candles and a few other things. Sorry to rush off.”

“No worries. I brought you something, though. Might help.”

“A gift? Are you a lesbian?”

“What? No. What?”

“A joke, poorly made. Lesbians are always teased for moving too fast into a relationship. It was supposed to be funny.”

I suddenly felt less the fool. “I didn’t know we were on a date. Anyway, my mom always told me that I should bring a gift to the leader of any ritual I attended. I’m a good boy.” That was punctuated by my own, award-winning smile.

“Your mom’s pagan?”

“She’s a witch. All the women in my family have been witches.”

“That’s amazing. Most of the people in this club are just rebelling against their parents’ Protestantism, I think. I do need to hurry, though, sorry.”

“Of course. Here.” And with that I evened the playing field. I thought the best gift for someone I didn’t know was a little package with all that was needed for a Samhain ritual. I just bought two of most everything I’d bought for my own work. It was everything he needed for the circle that night and a few extra things. He was flabbergasted and I was erect. Amazing what a little nudge in the power struggle will do for a guy’s dick.

“Let’s go get set-up, then. Want to help?”

The circle was pretty much what I expected. It was a collection of pop-pagan teachings offered to a group of rebellious teenagers who weren’t tapped into the magic around them at all. Most of them were so busy looking at my transformation from frat boy to half-naked horned god that they nearly missed the calling of the corners. Calvus lead them, though, like a champ. He managed to turn me on even more with how he handled the group. He kept them focused and engaged. When he cast the circle he even managed to pick up some of the magic in the air with his athame. I was impressed.

He closed the ritual with one of my favorite practices. There were plates of fruits and sweets and he invited everyone to walk around and feed each other a bite of sustenance while offering a blessing to all gathered. There is something tremendously intimate about feeding another person or in allowing them to feed you. I didn’t have to work very hard to stay away from him until the very end. I think he had the same thing in mind. Ending in front of each other with a slice of apple in hand we shared food and an embrace. It felt like the kind of magic that happens in movies. Thankfully my satyr shape thrust my boner up and not forward. He wasn’t so lucky.

“It’s a little noisy in the main room. Want to go for a walk before we join everyone? I could use a little time before I’m pressed between a throng of people dancing anyway.”

“Sure.” I almost laughed at his lack of subtlety. What had gotten me so confused that first day? He was as goofy as I was! “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere. Let’s just walk.”

“Cool.” As we walked, “Great costume, by the way. Using real grapes was a nice touch.”

“Want one? They’re sweet. I’m surprised you knew who I was.”

“Do I look like I don’t read?”

“Crap, that’s not what I meant. I just meant that not very many people recognized the costume. Not sure why, though. Who doesn’t love Bacchus?”

“My thoughts exactly. We should have brought some wine with us.”

“What do you thinks in here?” Calvus produced a rather sizable gourd that I’d not really expected to be functional from his costume. It hung from the rope around his waist just like you’d imagine. “Do you mind drinking after me?”

“The wine will kill the germs, right? I’m fine with it.”

“I can’t believe you’d compliment this costume, though, considering you look like you stepped out of some pagan wet-dream. How’d you get that fur to look so real? It’s kinda sexy, I have to admit. I’ve thought about getting mounted by Pan more than once.”

“How’s that wine treating you, buddy?”

“That was a lot of sharing, wasn’t it? I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, a lot. Pan’s hot, though. That was part of the point. The Christian church was good at vilifying as many things at a time as they could. This got rid of sex and paganism all at once.”

“You didn’t answer me. How’d you get the fur to look so real?”

“Oh, spirit gum. I have a friend in the theater department.”

“But I swear I can see skin through the hair. Doesn’t look fake at all!”

“That’s the wine and some wishful thinking.”

“Asshole. You might be right, though. So, what was it like growing up with a witch for a mom?”

“What was it like not? I don’t know. I mean, it’s the only thing I know.”

“Still, you had to see what it was like for the other kids. You know what “normal” life was like for them. How was yours different?”

“First of all, did you just use air quotes around normal? Second, did you really bring me out here to talk about my mom? I’m feeling a little deflated, I have to admit.” I finished that off with a wink. I practiced winking in the mirror in high school. I’d seen a male teacher use this incredibly sexy wink from time to time on the school secretary. I had to master it. So, when I winked at him. It was a good one.

“Yes. No.”

“Ouch. Good. Why did you bring me out here then?”

“Because you are hot and this is a Sabbat. We should celebrate it right.”

“We did. I did, anyway. I cast a circle at home and did all that.” Pagans seem to think that a ritual just isn’t a ritual unless they’ve gotten laid. This is another idea spread by the early church in Europe. You put a few skyclad women under a full moon and suddenly it’s an orgy for Satan. I wasn’t complaining about this misconception at the moment, though. I was just making him ask for it.

“Well, I meant… in my tradition, sometimes… well… yeah, I guess we pretty much covered everything.”

“That easy?”

“What?”

“Giving up that easily? I was fucking with you. I know what you meant. I don’t think it has that much to do with celebrating the Sabbat but I’m game. I need to go home and get out of this costume. Want to go to my place? It’s just up the street a few more blocks.”

“Yes.” The look on his face scared me a little. He looked… hungry. I did what I always did back then when I was startled. I took control.

“Then ask for it.”

I have to give him this, he didn’t miss a beat. “May I please come with you to your place?”

“Why?”

“To have sex with you.”

“What do you mean by sex?”

“I want to suck your dick. I want you to mount me and fuck me like a dog.”

“Like a goat, you mean. You may come to my apartment. We’ll see if you earn my dick.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Good boy.”

Related posts:

1. Witch’s Son: A Tale of a Tail (Part 1)
2. Witch’s Son: A Tale of a Tail (Part 3)
3. Witch’s Son: Wrestling with College (Part 1)

Check out the rest of the Witch’s Son series.

When Samhain rolled around, though, I was a little lonely for home. Non-witches just don’t celebrate Halloween the same way that witches do. Because of this, when I saw a call out for the pagan club on campus I was stoked! I don’t know exactly what I expected, but when I showed up for my first meeting I was more than a little shocked.

Their meeting space was on the first floor of the president’s dorm. All the black being worn by the members when I walked through the door took me aback. I’m a witch. I have maybe two black tee-shirts and they have print on them. These people did not strike me as witches on any level. I even paid attention for anyone drawing magic and there wasn’t much to be seen. It was looking like a fail for sure. I was already through the door, though, so I sat down quietly in the corner.

All around me people were having pissing contests about who’d read the most or been to the most rituals or who had the coolest ritual items. I was feeling more and more like leaving was a good idea. Sitting there with the bulge of my biceps testing the elasticity of the sleeves of my teal polo made blending in difficult. I looked like I was a frat wannabe taking part of some forced humiliation as part of rush week. The only problem was that it wasn’t rush week and I wasn’t going Greek.

Just as I was about to stand and depart the president walked in. He was, to turn a phrase, incredibly fuckable. He wasn’t built like me. He wasn’t thick the way I was. He looked to have that taught body of a swimmer. I was looking at his face but my mind was constructing a life-like replica of him to be used when I got back to my apartment. I was spending extra effort on his waist. You could tell that he had those great lines just on the outside of his lower abs. The kind made for licking. He wasn’t wearing as much black as the others in the group but what he was wearing made an impression. A thick black, leather bracelets on each wrist told me plenty. His clothes actually fit, unlike the outfits of most in the group. He had a mop of dark curls and piercing blue eyes.

As he’d walked in I’d been just standing up. I didn’t realize that I’d stopped moving in mid-motion while I stared at him. I was half out of the chair when he smirked and asked, “Leaving already or just sitting down? I can’t tell.”

I stammered over my response. I could have cleared that room with a wave of my hand. I could have bench pressed his body. I could have conjured up a dozen roses behind my back and handed them to him. Instead, I stammered. I couldn’t talk. I was speechless in the face of his beauty. I finally spit out, “Sitting.”

He laughed.

That was when I knew I’d found a challenge. College life had turned up a lot of sex. It was incredible, really, what some big arms, a flat stomach and a legendary cock will do for a guy’s sex life. I used the magic to make my body and all of its accoutrement. I used none of it to get a guy into my bed. The rule of 3X3 doesn’t exactly apply to beings like me but it still applies on some level. Bewitching someone into your bed is never a good idea. At a small, liberal arts college, however, all you needed was a body like mine. This guy, though, seemed anything but impressed. We’d see about that.

Needless to say, I stayed at the meeting with the sexy leader. It seemed that there was nothing to talk about besides the big party being held for All Hallow’s Eve. There would be a ritual during the party, it seemed, in a separate part of the building they were to use. The group was encouraged to not drink or otherwise alter their minds lest it interfere with the magic of the evening. While there did seem to be a spark of magic around the president, I was doubtful there’d be any actual magic done by this group of pretenders. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

“I’m Calvus. How’d you like your first meeting?” was how he started it.

I’d prepared myself for this through the entire meeting. I had my game face back. “It was pretty good as far as meetings go.”

“Yeah. I feel you there. I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t pitch it.”

A grin. That was all he gave me on that one. I had been waiting to use that line for a seeming eternity. He was killing me. A grin was all it took. Red-faced I told him, “Glistern.”

“Last name? What’s your first?”

“I go by Glistern. First name’s a family name and it’s not one I give out readily. You’ll have to work for that one.”

“We’ll see. Calvus is my craft name, I guess I should tell you. Michael is what you’ll hear anyone not in the club calling me.” He’d introduced himself with his craft name. I wasn’t sure if I should take that as a compliment or as a sign that he had no business with a craft name. With a smile like his, though, I opted to give the benefit of the doubt.

“Right on. I’m thinking about coming to this party and ritual that you guys are doing for Samhain. Anything I should bring? Anything I should know as a first timer?”

“Just yourself. Come in costume, though. That’s almost the best part. We have a theme every year. This year everyone is supposed to dress like a favorite character from Mythology.”

“Greek, Roman, what?”

“Good question. Most people just giggle and say okay. You decide, though. I’d imagine most people will go with Greek since it’s what they know.”

“I’m set, then.”

“Yeah? What you going to wear, or do I have to work for that too?”

“You do now. See you at the party.” And with that I’d grabbed the proverbial joystick and sunk his battleship. I wasn’t very good with the metaphors at 18. What can I say?

Related posts:

1. Witch’s Son: A Tale of a Tail (Part 2)
2. Witch’s Son: A Tale of a Tail (Part 3)
3. Witch’s Son: Wrestling with College (Part 1)

Also, check out the rest of the Witch’s Son series.

—————————————-

I snapped this picture of him a couple weeks after our encounter.

“Over to the squat machine boy. Let’s see what those legs and ass are made of.”

“One problem coach.” I wonder if he knew every time he called me coach, my cock jumped a little. “I only planned to do chest today and I can’t do legs with these pants on.”

“Good thing there’s no one here then. Take off those pants and you’re doing squats. No questions!”

“Yes, coach.”

He was hesitant, but when he saw the look in my eyes, he knew I was serious. He grasped the top of his pants revealing an old, stained jockstrap. It was one of those white ones he’d had for years. The pants around his ankles revealed a couple of holes in the jockstrap pouch showing his thick, cut cock. It was already soaked in sweat too.

He willingly took off his shirt too, which was nice because then I didn’t have to ask. “What’s your max for 6 reps on the squat boy?”

“350, coach.”

“Not bad boy, but based on how you did with your bench. I’m going to start you at 400.”

“Yes coach. Whatever you say.”

I had a pretty solid chubby going on through most of this now. I wasn’t wearing a jockstrap like him, so it was definitely showing through my gym pants. I was getting a little hot, so my shirt came off. Ian gazed at my thick chest and seemed to be attracted to my big, round nipples.

He pounded out his first set and his second set. His ass looked hot with each rep too. It flexed and relaxed and somehow even rippled. It was time we got him doing some real heavy weight though.

“Boy. What’s the heaviest you’ve ever seen someone squat?”

“500, coach.”

“Well boy, I’m going to have you do 1,000 right now with a spot from me. Now get the weight on there. I’m going to have to take off these pants to because I don’t like to squat in pants either.” Yeah, it lacked the subtlety I normally used, but I was going to get this boy pumped huge, and then pump this boy hard.

“Get under the bar, then I’m going to come up behind you. Do the squat like you normally would, but I’ll be there for some support.”

“If you say so coach.”

“I do. Now get to it!”

He jumped over to the bar, got under it, and I got right behind him. He never seemed to bat an eye that I was naked the whole time. He flexed his ass as I got right up behind him massaging my cock. “Now lift it and do 10 reps boy.” He lifted that bar off the support and slowly went down at first. I was there helping him out holding him with my body, but it was all him doing the work – whether he realized it or not. With each rep his whole body grew bigger, thicker and stronger – even his cock this time. He did three sets and was fucking hot and huge when he was done.

I had one more challenge for him. “Boy, get all the weights on the bar you can.”

“Yes, coach!”

Watching him work got my cock rock hard and that got him hard. With a flick of my wrist his jockstrap got caught on one of the weight trees causing his throbbing cock to pop out, but what I didn’t foresee is that he would leave the tattered jockstrap on.

He got it up to just over 1,800 lbs, but had a look of wonder as to how he was going to lift this.

“Ok boy, before you lift this, there is something we need to do first. You want to try a piece of this?” Reaching down and grabbing my cock. It was less than a second latter and my cock was down his throat. Hearing him gag on it trying to take it all. He definitely wasn’t great, and was barely a good cocksucker, but I wasn’t about to stop him. I reached down to work his nipples, dripping pre-cum down his throat. If only he knew the effect that was going to have on him.

“Boy, grab the squatting bar and stick that ass out. It’s time you lift the weights.” He did exactly as he was told, but he wasn’t prepared for what was coming next. To truly give him the power to lift this weight, I took my spit-covered, pre-cum dripping cock and shoved it up his ass. Seeing the look on his face in the mirror was priceless. He was both grateful and in pain because his tight ass had never taken a cock like mine before. His rock-hard cock got even harder with that first thrust though.

“Now you’re going to feel what real power like mine is like. Get under that weight, and lift it up. Now down. And back up.” With each rep he milked my cock. My arms around him grabbing his nipples as he did each rep too.

He hit 10 reps and was going to rack the weight. I yelled, “You’re not stopping till I tell you to stop boy!”

With some renewed hope, and a little despair, he let out a “Yes, coach!”

Each rep milked my cock and made him grow bigger. At the bottom of each rep, I pinched his nipples hard making him gasp and straighten up. Once at the top, I released them until the bottom of the next rep. He looked with anticipation and fear as he neared the bottom of each rep.

We hit 20 reps, then 40 reps. With each rep his form and strength improved. I had to hold back from cumming because I wanted him to make it to 100 reps. Ian was half way up the 112th rep when I let my load fill his ass. Immediately he blew his load shooting up all over his chest then out onto the mirror.

I caught him in one arm and the weight in the other. Setting the weight back on the rack, holding my big, wrestling, cum-soaked muscle boy. He had grown to twice his original size. I carried him into the locker room shower, set him down in the corner, and grabbed a towel to wipe his cum off him. Mine had already soaked into his body. My cum was going to help him keep on some of his size, but just like me a couple years ago, he would wake up in the morning just a little bigger than he originally was. He would wake up in the morning in the corner of the locker room shower remembering the night like a dream.

I did grab his worn, torn jockstrap as a souvenir, and maybe to gag him with if he comes around again. Get his singlet as a souvenir next time.

Related posts:

1. Witch’s Son: Wrestling with College (Part 1)
2. Witch’s Son: A Tale of a Tail (Part 3)
3. Witch’s Son: A Tale of a Tail (Part 1)

Editor’s note: This section of the story was started by the contributor, then an extra sex scene was added by me, WildCuddler.

Check out the rest of the Witch’s Son series.

———————————————

While a lot happens for a boy witch between 16 and 18, I’m somewhat sorry to say that it is pretty much the same tiresome curriculum that any teenager experiences. I learned that my body, while easy to come by for a guy who can manipulate his physicality by means of magic, has a huge impact on the opposite sex and, more importantly, the same sex. I learned that all the magic in the world doesn’t make getting dumped the first time any easier. I found out that underwear, while seemingly required by everyday standards, are uncomfortable and unnecessary. Above all else I learned that one of my favorite things to do is make out.

All this, though, is secondary to what happened after I turned 18. I moved away from home the summer after high school graduation. I moved to a smaller town than where I grew up in a more conservative part of the country. Mostly, though, I moved away from the Grans. I took my Mom’s warnings to heart about going crazy with magic, and other stuff, when away from home. I’d nearly blown up enough things to know I had to be careful. It was such a relief, though, to not have to hide so much of who I was when I was at home. Typical gay story, I suppose, except that my Mom and the Grans couldn’t possibly care less about me being a homo. The Grans just couldn’t know how readily I was able to pull from the threads of magic. College was like heaven.

I excelled in all my studies first year despite my constantly being distracted by some extracurricular activity. Most of the time those were sports or clubs. Sometimes it was some guy’s ass. The best times were when it was both. Oh boy, those wrestlers sure were slippery. The fun with them starts when you pin them down though.

To keep people from asking too many questions about why I was so big and muscled, I went to the gym most of the week. It was never hard for me to lift anything there, but it was a great place to meet some guys. Being that it was a small college, the wrestling team would always workout right after my last class late at night. Normally, everyone left the wrestlers alone, but I wasn’t like everyone else.

I saw a hot fucking wrestler boy one day in there. He was doing a some extra bench presses after most of the team had left. I was on the bench next to him and had seem him look my way a couple times, probably just admiring my size. I had a plan to make me into the hero and him the stud in distress. He may have thought he had 250 lbs of weight on the bar, but I made those plates just a little heavier. He was struggling on his 3rd rep so I went over an gave him a spot. Well, and I lightened the weight back up making him crank out a total of 12 reps.

After that set he laid on the bench, looked up at my and said, “Thanks big guy!”

With that I stepped around the bar and gave him a hand up. “I’m Glistern”

“Name’s Ian.” He tried to be all macho and masculine, and he definitely was. He just threw in a little extra. “I thought I had the weight. I mean, I know I’ve lifted more than that easily before.”

“It must have been something in the air.”

“Well then, I better get going. Looks like I’m spent.”

I can’t let him get away this quickly. “I don’t think so. You’re going to do some more sets for me.”

“Yes, coach!”

With those two short words, the fantasy had begun to play out in my head, but it was time too see how it played out in real life without me influencing it; too much.

I forced him to do 3 more sets on the bench press. He grabbed my water bottle and took a drink without even realizing it wasn’t his. What he didn’t know is that it was a muscle growth elixir, which tasted just like water. I made it for myself just for a little extra pump.

He was wearing a sleeveless shirt with the sides cut out. Lucky for me, he cut a lot out of those sides showing me his thick, furry slab of chest with some perky nipples. I even got a glimpse of his tight stomach. His already hot physique just improved more with the elixir I gave him.

After the bench press, I could tell he was geared up to do some more. He kept asking me “What’s in your water? It’s making me feel great.”

“Nothing special. Just some spring water my mom got me.”

“I’ll have to get me some of that. What’s next coach?”

Ian was bulging out everywhere, and I mean EVERYWHERE. Damn did his cock look good, and I hadn’t even helped him grow it yet. It looked like it was contained by a worn jockstrap.

The gym was closing up, but that wasn’t any concern for me. I’d stayed late plenty of times to workout naked and jack off. I told the gym attendant I would take care of everything. Ian looked very excited about the prospect of staying late and working out with me.

Ian looked over at me and gave me a puppy-dog look of “what’s next?”

Part 2 will be later this week.

Related posts:

1. Witch’s Son: Wrestling with College (Part 2)
2. Witch’s Son: A Tale of a Tail (Part 3)
3. Witch’s Son: A Tale of a Tail (Part 1)

The whole Witch’s Son Series so far

“I will not be a Luddite because you women choose to disdain all things electronic! I have 3 papers due next week alone and I’m not about to sit down with a quill to scratch out a missive to the mistress. Do you remember what century this is?”

“You’ll show respect, man-child!”

“Gran, really? Man-child? I’ve been in this house as your grandson for 16 years. Will you please not speak to me as if I’m some sort of shocking abomination?”

“You were a shock!“

“I know. I’d think you’d be used to the idea of a grandchild with a prick by now.”

“Such language!”

“I’ll just ask mom.” She’d tell me no again but I’d still ask. I’d been trying to get a laptop since the start of school a month before. Having to use friends’ computers who were working on the same papers as me at the same time was not working. We had the money but these old women believed that magic and technology couldn’t co-exist. That I was using a computer in a room filled with computers everyday was of no interest to them because they thought my being male meant that I had no connection to the threads of Light that only they could perceive. They thought this because of how few threads connected to me, they said. I was like all the other people walking around blind to magic. I didn’t know then how it was possible that I could do what I could do with magic without them knowing but I was glad that it was how it was. They looked fairly normal but the old crones were powerful beyond imagining. I needed to stay shrouded.

After the jump…

At any rate, mom had actually decided to surprise me with a laptop even before another session of begging. Her being a bit rebellious often served my cause when the Grans dug their heels into the dirt. Their adamant “no” often became her grounded “yes.” Go, mom!

When I went to my room that first night to play with it I was as convinced as the Grans that it should be shielded from my magic. That was a lesson I’d learned in school early on. It had taken a concerted effort for me to protect the machines at school from my ministrations with magic. By this time, though, it was second nature to simply create a shield around anything that I might fry. I wasn’t even thinking about it most of the time. At home, though, I had to protect things from the Women as well. They were like lighting rods drawing energies into the house. It had other side effects, as well. People would stop by our house for no reason. Not people we knew just dropping in. Complete strangers. Watching my Grans toy with them wasn’t pleasant. It was worse when it was both of them. It was watching the crones that I started being shaped in my use of magic.

I was a teen-ager. I did things that any teen-age guy would do if he had my abilities. That wasn’t the only way that my practice unfolded, however. As these people continued showing up several times a week it became more and more evident what it was they were seeking if one but had the eyes to see. It was the abundance of magic that drew them. They didn’t even know they were seeking. I’d learned a spell for finding things from my mom when I was very small and kept losing my toys. It was rudimentary but useful and I’d cast it on the seekers when I knew I could help. Doing big magic in the house would have drawn attention. This, though, barely tugged at the flow.

I’d drop my bug on the folks as they left and then find them later. They’d not recognize me, of course, because I was the ubiquitous hoodied kid they saw everywhere and when they were in the midst of all the magic buzzing around our house they weren’t very attentive to lesser details. My Grans have a way of keeping your attention.

That is another side effect of magic. You don’t technically stay young. You do, technically, look like you are young. Calling them the crones conjures up an image of some movie-esque old women with long, crooked noses and sagging skin. My grans were none of this. They and my mother all looked the same age. They were all tall women with curves and creases in all the right places. That’s what the men said, anyway. That I got this much from their magical lineage was obvious and painful to them. I was tall early and fairly well-built if still on the skinny side. I looked like a normal teen but at the upper end of the looks spectrum. All the girls I could want and not an ounce of wanting them back… ironic, really.

At any rate, that night I went to my room and grabbed the chalk before even putting the battery into the computer my mom had bought me. I closed the circle that is always drawn around my room. I’d read a lot of science fiction and fantasy from our library. There were always emergencies when some arcane hero needed a quick circle and all the best were prepared. Witch’s son or not, I wanted to be a hero just like all the other geeks at school so I was prepared. Mom was pleased. The Grans were annoyed. Any human can close a circle and it pissed them off that mine worked to seal them out magically.

Closing the circle to shield my new baby from the Women, I sat down in front of it and extended a slightly altered version of my typical shield around it. It was protected as always but I could slide in just enough of my own magic to make the electronics specifically mine. It worked like a charm on the first try. Thank the spirits for that, too. Don’t know how I’d have explained that kind of meltdown to the sales guy.

Upon firing it up I immediately connected to an open wifi network that our neighborhood maintains for the residents. I really did have three papers to write but that didn’t negate my needs as a teen-ager to take care of some online chatting, social networking, and tweeting about my new best-friend. That being done, there was one more thing needing my attention. I was 16 and had a new and nearly unlimited menu of porn at my fingertips. I started with a couple of sites that I’d heard about from friends that I’d been hoping would have some hot guys at least stroking off together if not more.

Not shockingly, I found what I wanted pretty quickly. Being kind of skinny myself I liked looking at guys with some beef on them. I knew I had to be careful with my fantasizing after the college guy from down the street’s underwear showed up on my face while I was cumming. I’m a witch. I’d seen him in them through the window of his room while I was mowing his parents’ lawn while he was home on vacation. He was a wrestler and had a wrestler’s body and I got pretty turned on even then. When I came home I was alone in the house and went to my room for a little relief. I had a pretty good picture of him in those underwear in mind and wondered how they’d smell. Orgasm is a huge release of energy for anyone. Add to that my heritage and you have a teen-age disaster waiting to happen.

While I was watching porn I was sure not to bring any guys inexplicably into my room. The guy who was my favorite was a really beefy bodybuilder. He had a really nice cock but, more than that, he had a way of touching himself that was driving me insane. He slid his hand over his abs as if he’d never felt anything so amazing. I was convinced I certainly hadn’t. He had a naturally dark skin that was stretched tight over his hard body. He was very veiny and was absolutely in love with the outcome of his workouts. He let his fingers slide into every ridge between his abs. He squeezed his own biceps. He molested his pecs like he was afraid they might be gone later. I was matching him stroke for stroke on my dick but had let my eyes slide closed to imagine what those muscle must feel like. I squirted over my head as I commended myself on having such a good imagination. As I was wiping a rope of cum off my face I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror across the room.

I whipped myself around and stood with my mouth open for a long time. The reflection staring back at me in the mirror had my face. It had my heavy load dripping from my chin. It was me in the reflection but… more of me. I had a body that could compete with the stud from my vid. When I’d recovered motor skills I wiped off the cum but was already figuring out why that guy couldn’t stop touching himself. This body felt different than how I usually felt. It felt stronger. It felt more powerful. It felt… horny!

I’ve been a witch since I was born. Lot’s of weird things had already happened in my life. This was shocking but it wasn’t scary. I busted my nut about five times before falling asleep that night. I fell asleep on the floor next to my little, fold-up porn theater in a puddle of my own goo. When I awoke on Saturday morning I was skinny again and had dried cum all over my flat but not six-pack abs. I powered the laptop down and put it away before breaking my circle and hitting the shower. It was fun while it lasted.

—–

“Mom, can you make yourself look different?”

“I buy you a new computer and the first thing you say to me in the morning is that I’m ugly?”

She was grinning. She was almost always grinning at me. I think she lived to twist my words into something I’d have to apologize for and then explain. “I didn’t say you were ugly! I just want to know if you can appear differently if you want to?”

“I can. It’s called a glamour spell. You know how to do that already.”

How red I must have turned at that moment was thankfully unseen by my mom who had her back to me as she finished up the dishes from the breakfast I’d already missed. She unknowingly let me off the hook without my having to squeak out a question.

“It’s just like when you were little and would play by changing your reflection in the pond down at the park. Remember? You liked to make yourself look old. You used to laugh forever when you could see the beard in the water but not feel it on your face. You were kind of silly.”

Again with the grinning. “Hmm, I remember that now. I don’t know if that’s what I mean, though. Can you make yourself actually look different to others and not in a reflection?”

“That’s what I’m saying to you. It’s the same magic. You don’t start trying to change how you actually look, though, because you might make a mistake and get stuck that way so you just play with your reflection. I would have had a hard time making people understand that my five year old had a full beard, right? That’s where the old saying comes from, you know.”

“What old saying?”

“If you make that face it’ll stick that way.”

“No it doesn’t. Come on, mom.”

“Believe what you want. Regardless, why are you asking me this? Are you unhappy with how you look? You know you are handsome.”

“You scare me when you sound like a regular mom like that. I think I look fine, I was just asking.”

“I am a regular mom. You are a regular teen-ager, too.”

“How’s that?”

“You just lied to me. Don’t deny it but don’t worry about it. It’s not normal for a mother to know everything that her son wonders about. It’s kind of creepy, actually. Just don’t make a mess or hurt anyone. And for the love of all that is holy, don’t give yourself a big beard overnight. I couldn’t take it. I already feel old without my son looking like Abraham in his last days.”

“There’s something so wrong with you. Abraham didn’t have guns like these!” I pointed at my meager arms to punctuate my sarcasm.

“Get ready for school. You’ve gotten delirious.”

“It’s Saturday. I don’t have school.”

“Magic school, goofy. I have a new spell for you while your Grans are out!”

—–

I tried for a week on my own to get that body back for at least a night. It was all for nothing. I couldn’t get it. Frustrated, I sat down again before the laptop and opened up some more vids of the guy I’d ‘grown’ to before. Once again I really got off on watching him worship his own muscle. Sure enough, I started growing again. I couldn’t believe it. Thinking that it might be the guy himself that was helping me I opened up other vids with different guys in similar situations. It worked!

No matter who the guy was, if I was watching him then I could imitate his body. It was evidently about visual focus. I couldn’t hold the image strongly enough in my mind to make it spread to my body. I could fix that. I had plenty of meditation practices I was supposed to be practicing anyway. This was just the motivation I needed.

Within a few weeks I could hold the new body as long as I wanted. The problem was, I couldn’t do it in front of other people without them wondering if I’d stuffed my clothes. The only answer was to start working out. I immediately bought some cheap weights online and got to work. I added muscle faster than most guys my age but my friends just thought it was cool and the Grans and Mom just assumed it was their genetic code flowing through my body that had impacted the rapid change. Within six months I was big enough to be a competitive body builder. The only difference was that I could also add a nice bulge to that banana hammock they all pose in. I could grow my own, remember!

Stay tuned for more wild magic, sex, muscle and kink in the Witch’s Son

No related posts.

My mother was a witch. Her mother was a witch. Her mother, too, was a witch. The women in my family have been witches for as long as there has been a family. Each woman has had only one daughter and has never kept a man longer than needed for conception. On the day of my birth, my grandmother and great-grandmother cast the circle into which I would emerge. They were excitedly awaiting the continuation of a tradition, of a lineage. They were not expecting me to be born a boy.

The women grieved for years as if they had lost a member of their family who’d been with them for a lifetime. They looked upon me as if I’d somehow intentionally thrown a wrench into the gears of their most intricate plans. My Gran and Great-Gran faulted my mother. It had been part of her earliest training in magic to enable herself to only conceive of a daughter. My Grans’ scrying throughout her pregnancy had consistently delivered the message that I was a healthy, baby girl, however. There was no precedent for any of this in our lengthy and detailed family history.

Doing a little levitation practice with my mother.

Even through my mother’s bitterness at having bore a son. she secretly taught me magic. My Grans had forbidden it. They felt that a “man-child” not only shouldn’t, but couldn’t know of or practice magic properly. My mother took secret pleasure in my natural aptitude for all things arcane. She still tells me the stories of my correcting the spells that she was teaching me for the first time and of how quickly I moved from the crutch of spellcasting into advanced practice. I suppose that the most evident show of skill that I showed was my keeping from my Grans not only that I had magic but that I was a boy before even being born. While I was the first male born into our family I was not the first conceived. My Grans blame their failings upon my being gay and confusing the magic with my very being. My mother has a differing opinion. I believe she is right. She holds it as truth that I was blessed from my first blinking into existence because my father was no mundane sperm donor. He had an understanding and command of magic that had dazzled my mother into defying her mother and producing his offspring.

Being born into such a fucked up life in a world that isn’t so great itself could have made me a bit fucked up myself. While some people in the ‘magical community’ are just misfits trying to connect with other misfits and people walking through the motions of spells, my people are natural witches. We walk the wheel of eternity and we move magic in our lives and through the lives of others. There are rules, of course. We follow them. The rules that your average new age bookstore kitchen witch knows, however, are not the rules that govern our existence. Those women would never dream of aborting a child for being male. That is just the tip of the iceberg.

For all the unscrupulousness of my family, however, I have been pushed the other way. It is a relatively odd thing for rebellion to make you do what is right but that is how it has gone thus far. Life is an interesting thing.

I record this telling of my life not because I think it terribly interesting or of great import. I record this telling because there are other men, like me, who have stumbled through life learning less than they should from where they should learn it. Perhaps this telling will help them move forward more smoothly than I was able to do. May my mistakes be the foundation of your understanding.

A note on organization: I have scratched out these tales through the years. I have arranged them mostly in order of my gaining new magical skills or on the ways I have learned to be of service not only as a witch but as a person of power. That power comes not only from my ability to impact the perceived reality but from my having made a decision to hold up and encourage others as they work to change their own world. Some of the stories, admittedly, are revealing and sometimes steamy. A life without love is a life half-lived. I have lived my life thus far and continue to do so. Love shows up in many ways and for differing lengths of time. This does not change that it is love. Blessed be.

Excerpt from part 2:
“…let his fingers slide into every ridge between his abs. He squeezed his own biceps. He molested his pecs like he was afraid…”

Related posts:

1. Witch’s Son: Wrestling with College (Part 1)
2. Witch’s Son: Learning to Grow
3. Witch’s Son: A Tale of a Tail (Part 1)