All characters involved are over 18 years of age.
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Stephine the witch smiled as she put the finishing touches on the ritual.
She was a cute young woman with short black hair adorned with a large blue bow that stuck out at an angle. Her slim body fit her tube top dress well, which came up just high enough to show her ample breasts. She had on long white stockings underneath, long black gloves that came up to her forearms, and a large witch's hat on her head with another big blue bow.
Closing the rune circle with powdered silver and myrrh would complete this summoning of a knowledge spirit. The other witches had warned her. But they could offer no explanation besides "it simply isn't done. The last time was three hundred years ago." She laughed. She had thumbed through hundreds of musty old tomes and done her research on hundreds of knowledge spirits. Every single possible precaution she laboriously added, every safety glyph known to her tradition. She had even double-checked them all for compatibility and added a good number of redundancies.
Why not just ask the beings that knew the most about magic? She was prepared for any of them that could pop up. What could the others possibly be afraid of if they hadn't even explored the possibilities? Easy peasy. It was even far from the most technical ritual she had successfully pulled off.
The witch adjusted the high hem of her form-fitting dress and closed the shutters on the cottage. She had arranged that the rest of the coven was distracted while this went down, but it never hurt to be certain. Her nose had grown numb to the burning incense that filled the room. Stephine picked her spellbook off the thatched floor and began the incantations. Ancient words, meticulously chosen over years of research, spilled past her lips. She felt as much as saw the glow of a successful calling permeate the summoning circle and carefully adjusted her pace of casting. Exactly as the ritual process specified. It was going just as she imagined and she felt the hairs on the back of her head raise.
She felt a burst of foreign information, surge into her brain, and grit her teeth. Some leaking was expected, but it just meant the spell had locked onto the correct type of spirit, right? The wind kicked up as power displaced matter into the circle, and fortunately, she had already secured everything. Her words raised to a fevered pitch as she called forth on the mightiest knowledge spirit that would deliver the magical power she sought.
The glow of the circle swirled and coalesced into a being: a giant white blob the size of her torso, more like a large maggot. This... thing wasn't on her list. It pulsated and turned to ooze on the runes she'd drawn. Impossible, her protections should have prevented physical contact with the rune circle! She sighed, this was a failure. Time to start over. She shook her head and opened her mouth to speak the reversal of the spell.
Then she felt a man's voice speak within the deepest recesses of her skull. She stiffened. Many such spirits communicated this way, but it jarred the first time it happened.
"You have asked for knowledge, young one. As you asked, so you shall receive. Every last drop of my knowledge."
She stiffed, at its deep, raspy tone. It certainly did sound old and it really might have been some kind of knowledge spirit, but... her hesitation cost her long enough for the maggot to coil up and burst into movement!
It landed on her face, knocking her over. Her slim, black-clad arms pawed at it, but its surface was too slick. She heard that voice rumble, "All of my knowledge, my will, and the rest of my mind. All this shall be yours. Rejoice."
Her screams went unheard, for she was alone in a dark, closed cottage. The large maggot forced itself in her mouth, and she felt her jaws distend to accommodate it. The disgusting white mass pulsed itself down her throat, and her attempt to spit it out failed on account of its sheer mass. It slowly disappeared into her as she kicked her feet and gave muffled yelps.
"Rejoice, young one."
She fought as hard as she could, shutting her eyes in exertion, but found no progress in expelling her unwelcome guest. None of her rituals or research had even remotely considered this. Her last thought before she blacked out was anger at how her peers were somehow right, and this was a horrible-
"Rejoice."
She shuddered and twitched as the creature completed its journey into her throat and her jaws closed behind it. The lump of its mass crawled down her neck into her chest and distended her stomach and chest. Her limbs continued to spasm and her eyes rolled up in their sockets.
Then she relaxed. The invader's bulk receded within her skin, leaving her looking as she had before the ritual, save much spittle and general dishevelment from fighting and thrashing so.
The short-haired witch opened her dark blue eyes. Something hidden deep in her gaze would have sent shudders down the spines of bystanders, were there any.
"Rejoice, as you have become a vessel to a much greater being," she said. She grinned, and stood up uneasily, as if readjusting to having two legs and two arms. After all, it was not Stephine who did so, but the primeval being known and feared only as Icthzhor.
Icthzhor looked down at the witch's extended hands through her eyes. She was slender, yet her breasts were wonderfully plump! He moved her hands to cup them. The grin he kept on her face got wider. Foolish young witches were shallow and abused their magic for vain purposes. Their figures were always perfect.
"Excellent," she said. Stephine looked down, twirling her body to and fro to appreciate her ass and legs. "An attractive young form to start my conquest. It has been too long since I wore the flesh of a mortal."
Her movements proved jerky and clumsy. Three hundred years was a very long time for her body's new owner to live without a physical form. Icthzhor had once worn some of the most beautiful women in this world. But this would still do, he thought. She was a very fine catch and he would get used to her.
He enjoyed the sensation of groping wherever he could, imagining her disgust at the giant white maggot enjoying her body. Her loins burned intensely at the very thought of such a violation. "It seems, this girl has not felt the pleasures of the flesh for a great length of time, much like I."
The monster riding Stephine moved her hands under her skirt and pulled down her damp panties. "We can remedy that, can't we Stephine?" he said, in her dulcet timbre. His host's gloved hand found her already-dripping slit and he forced two fingers in and out. In and out. A lightning bolt of bliss ran up and down his stolen body and she moaned out his pleasure. His other hand went up to her breasts and he roughly fondled them, enjoying their firmness. He felt his host's tight stockings become damp as her sex continued to ooze from his ministrations. Stephine continued to finger herself furiously, building up to the shriek the possessed witch let out as she came.
Icthzhor smiled again, basking in the waves of pleasure.
A woman's voice yelled out Stephine's name in the distance. It sounded like a query. They must be looking for this girl, he thought to himself. He would have to act quickly. He pulled up the witch's dripping panties and tidied up her hair and clothes. It was slow going on account of his clumsiness, but he only had to pass casual inspection. The magic circle, however, would give away the game quickly though. It had been marred a little by her struggles, but enough remained legible to determine its purpose. Or to recall him back from where he came.
Icthzhor spared a moment to inspect it for her mistake. The fool witch had requested a spirit of great knowledge, specifically the one with the most magical understanding to freely offer her. He fit the criteria perfectly, for now, her brain contained every single thing he knew. And yet the irony of ironies! For all his knowledge, in the material world, he could not actually use any magic. Though he would soon have complete control of her mind and body, her soul was too busy. It took every thaum of arcane power this young woman had merely to sustain his corporeal form, buried deep within her body and brain. Shame. Otherwise, he'd modify the circle to summon up some... interesting companions. He had many ideas.
The calls for Stephine grew ever closer. The bodily usurper turned his attention to his surroundings. Any witnesses who entered here would know something is amiss from her dripping pussy and the smell of sex and sweat in this enclosed space. Fortunately, it did not require much dexterity to knock a few sundries over and run her high heels through the glyph. It was soon rendered illegible, looking like a struggle happened to destroy the runes. It would not even be lying to claim that the ritual had been a failure. He put a devilish smile on the witch's cherubic face.
It was getting harder to ignore the yelling now. Icthzhor figured he might as well reply. He opened the window doors. "In here!" he replied through the opening.
The young lady who approached wore a black halter dress with a plunging neckline nicely displaying her cleavage. Icthzhor found it challenging to keep his eyes on her face, which bore a strong semblance to Stephine's. She wore thigh-high boots and a tall black witch hat. Her black hair was tied back in a ponytail.
Stephine's memories were slow in coming, but this one arrived easily: recognizing her slightly older sister Amerelle.
"Hey Ame, how's it going?", he leaned out of the window.
