Hey strumpets!! Sorry for falling off the face of the earth for 6 months!
I'm writing new chapters for both Frankenstein's Awakening AND Morning Wood, but making them as good as they deserve to be takes time. I gope that y'all will accept a desperately horny one-shot story about a transmasc witch "riding" his broom in the meantime!
(Brief language warning: I use manhood/prick/cock/dick instead of cl!toris, and I use "cunt" and "hole" in reference to Hendrix's other parts. I'm a trans man, and this is what felt natural and sexy to me.)
Happy Halloween, hussies!!
Love,
~ Your Local Transmasc Horndog 💕🎃✨
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Hendrix's hands vibrated with anxious warmth as he counted the last of the change in the cash register, his brows furrowing with forced concentration.
He had been fighting off a sort of fog all day, from the moment that he awoke to the moment that the last customer of the day had shut the door behind them.
He needed to touch himself soon, or he would explode.
Hendrix had been on testosterone for several months now, but just last month his dosage had been raised. In consequence, for the past week he had been trying desperately to take his mind off of the constant buzz between his legs by working overtime at his mother's broom shop.
When Hendrix felt the tellltale warm tingles start to tease his loins, he would stock the shelves faster. When his own juices would begin to soak his undergarments, he would polish the windows and doorknobs with more vigor.
But earlier that day, when a stunning raven-haired witch had stroked her hands across the wooden length of a new broomstick on display, Hendrix felt himself getting hard for the very first time.
At that point, he had needed to step outside. He'd tried counting the falling leaves in an attempt to calm his pulse and occupy his mind, but it was to no avail. He never fully cooled.
Now, at last, Hendrix was alone.
The register clicked shut. With a delicate flick of his wrists, all of the shop's doors locked. Hendrix practically sprinted to the restroom to wash the dirt of the day off of his hands.
Every footstep stirred his erection from that morning back to life. By the time Hendrix had folded his work apron and switched off the store lights, he could actually see a tiny tent forming at the front of his trousers. This new sight unlocked a rush of dopamine in his brain - he felt giddy, high on gender euphoria.
He couldn't make it to the back room.
Hendrix threw himself at his chair behind the register and hurriedly folded the seat cushion into a stiff, squishy hump. He had never thought to do this before - his movements were automatic, primal, swift.
Hendrix turned the chair around so that his chin could rest atop the headrest, his thighs parting obscenely to mount the plump cushion.
Still fully clothed at his usual seat behind the register, Hendrix knew that if someone walked past the dark shop windows they would suspect nothing out of the ordinary.
Heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears, Hendrix began to shift his weight into the cushion. His tiny manhood was hard with want, and the electricity of the indirect stimulation made his legs tremble. He began to slowly rut into the cushion as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.
Oh, fuck... fuck!!
Hendrix hadn't masturbated all week, and his body was responding in ways that he couldn't recall experiencing before. He could actually feel a quickening heartbeat throughout the length of his prick, and it sent hot tingles up his spine.
The chair creaked slightly under him as he rocked, his hands clawing at the wood of his headrest as though it could offer some mercy or lessen the intensity.
Click, click!
Hendrix's heart stopped in his chest as he heard the front door unlock.
His mother jumped when she saw him. Keys in hand, she flicked on the lights.
"Oh Hend, you gave me a heart attack! What are you still doing here, with all the lights off?"
"Just thinking about some things," he croaked out.
Sweat dripped uselessly down his neck with the restraint it took for him to completely stop his movements, his prick throbbing angrily. His thighs maintained a death grip around the cushion as he tried to look relaxed, smiling up at his mother.
"Oh, fair enough. When the shop gets slow sometimes, I like to sit and think too."
Hendrix met his mother's smile, wondering silently if his dick would explode if he couldn't come soon.
"So, what are you up to?" He quipped nonchalantly.
"I Left my cloak in the back, and it's freezing tonight! Let me just go grab it."
She strode past the counter, ruffling his hair as she went.
"Oh Hendrix, ew! You're so sweaty!"
Hendrix laughed breathlessly, his face burning with the blistering heat of shame.
"Yeah, I'll jump in the shower when I get home."
As his mother rummaged for her cloak, Hendrix noticed that his hips had begun to lightly buck again. He bit his hand and stilled them, cunt clenching in desperation.
"Found it! I guess I'll meet you at home then?"
"Oh yeah. Just wanna sit here and enjoy the quiet for a bit before I head out."
"Okay, sweetie. Don't forget to lock up when you leave."
His mother shot him a warm smile and turned to exit the store, closing the door behind her with a gentle click.
The second that his mother had rounded the corner, Hendrix snapped his fingers to simultaneously lock all of the doors and shut off the lights.
Hendrix began rutting into the cushion with a newfound urgency. He clawed at the countertop and pushed his weight into the chair as his hips thrust down into the cushion, a ragged whine climbing up out of his throat. The chair squeaked loudly as he fucked it, his feet firmly on the ground to anchor his weight.
His head filling with static and bright white sparks, Hendrix stood up on his tiptoes and wrapped his arms around the back of the chair - hugging it flush against his chest. His thighs moved forcefully as his breathing rang out across the empty shop in desperate, rhythmic grunts. The back of the chair thumped against the counter. He was practically standing now, his mouth ajar as his belly clenched with an agonizing tension.
Hendrix visualized the gorgeous, raven-haired witch from earlier that day. He pictured her finger-fucking him from behind, her long fingers rubbing harsh circles into his manhood. As he visualized this, his prick suddenly rubbed hard against the corner of the cushion. Electricity radiated out from his pelvis as his belly clenched, tears streaming down his flushed face as he shook through his long-awaited high.
Hendrix sat down shakily as the tension bled out of him, lightly humping the cushion to drag out his release. His forehead settled against the headrest as he fought to catch his breath.
He had never come while wearing pants before, and he felt a warm stickiness in his trousers as he stood up. He reached down to assess the wet spot at his crotch, which proved to be a mistake - almost immediately his prick jumped back to life, throbbing in time with his heartbeat. It was like nothing had happened.
Hendrix groaned, wiping the sweat from his brow.
Masturbation was good and all, but he wasn't enjoying the uncontrollable new heights of his libido. In the past month, it had mainly become a source of exhaustion.
Hendrix awkwardly walked to the back of the store and clicked on the bathroom light, unbuttoning his trousers in front of the mirror. He sucked in a sharp breath as the rough fabric slid down over his erect little manhood and dropped onto the floor.
Only, it wasn't quite so little anymore.
There, flushed red and standing up at attention, was a thumb-length cock.
(Well, the closest thing to a cock that he had ever seen on his own body. Now because of its length and girth, it no longer resembled a clitoris.)
Blood rushed in his ears as he watched his new cock throb in time with his heartbeat.
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"Because of the natural magic in your bloodline, testosterone might not show the same effects on you as it does for humans," Hendrix's doctor had informed him several months ago.
"What does that mean?" He had quietly asked, terrified that the Doctor would tell him that testosterone might not work at all.
"Well, for instance - did you ever have toys that needed batteries when you were a kid? And do you remember how as time went on, the toys with batteries would move slower and slower until you changed them?"
Hendrix had nodded, confused.
"So, picture the magic in your blood acting as a sort of battery re-charger. When you have magical capabilities, and your body knows what it wants and needs, the testosterone can often actually absorb some magic of its own. Meaning that some developments - things like bottom growth, and hair growth - can progress similarly towards that of a cis male."
Hendrix cocked his head, still confused.
"For some witches and warlocks, if it's what you truly want, testosterone can actually allow you to grow a functioning phallus."
