Modern Voodoo

CW: body horror; non-con; forced orgasms; magic; pegging;

'What is it?'

Lanie's question was a difficult one to answer, as I didn't really

know

. Well, I did, but what I thought it was going to be and what it ended up being were very different things.

In lieu of an answer, I ran my hands through my hair, and looked down at the repurposed shoebox between us, open on the kitchen table as we sat on either side of it.

'Phil,' Lanie said, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I looked at her, and then back at the contents of the box. She'd found it on the doorstep an hour ago, with both of our names on the package, with the logo for a company named

Modern Voodoo

on it. Now, I thought the word 'Voodoo' was a little... culturally insensitive, but it got the point across. This stuff was like a magic kit, only... gentrified. Commodified for the Instagram age.

'It was supposed to be a bit of a joke,' I said, looking down into the box, at what looked like a tub of face cream. 'I thought it would be, like, a box of naughty things.'

'

Naughty

things?!' Lanie gasped, looking like I'd just sworn in front of her mother. 'Phil!'

'I know!' I laughed. 'Looks - it's a stupid subscription box - I didn't mean for you to get a weirded-out when you opened it. It's...' I hushed my voice, knowing she was a bit of a prude about these things. 'It's supposed to make sex better.'

She huffed, and looked at me, not at all happy. Her small brown eyes, blown up big by her thick-rimmed glasses, glared at me in a way I couldn't help but shy away from, as she shut the shoebox.

'You're ridiculous.'

'Hey,' I said, opening it and pulling out the cream. 'We might as well keep the cream.'

'Get. Rid,' she told me. 'And don't order anything else online with the word

Voodoo

in that's meant for... intimacy. You'll give yourself an infection - you have no idea where that stuff comes from.'

'It comes from a lady in California,' I said, as though that would help.

Lanie pushed the box towards me, marking it as my responsibility, and left, heading back to her home office; we both worked from home, but she had the office upstairs and was happy to make a point of storming off towards it.

As she slammed the door to her office, I opened the box back up, dropped the cream inside, and went to pick it up. As I did, however, my thumb slipped against the roof, and I realised I had dislodged a thin slip of paper. An instruction manual.

When I had bought this box, it was in something of a... dry spell. About a week ago, there had been a lack of intimacy between myself and Lanie that had lasted a month, broken only a couple of nights ago by her giving in to my desperate attempts to seduce her. She let me have sex with her, missionary-style, before we fell asleep. It was... disappointing. And, while she had never been

adventurous

in bed, her new complete lack of sexual appetite was worrying to me. A few times I'd brought it off, and been shrugged off in how she was just tired, or stressed, or not in the mood. If there was a problem, she wasn't telling me.

So, in a bit of a horny, slightly drunken haze, I'd bought something that promised to add some new spark to a fizzling sex life.

The manual was a pale pink, using the same pastel colour scheme as the rest of the box); just a folded piece of glossy paper. I unfolded it, and saw a small-print how-to guide written on one side, and an FAQ on the other.

With a mountain of doubt in my mind that this was anything more than money-stealing drivel capitalising on the kind of people who think homoeopathy is science and that dirt is healing - 0r, in my case, drunk idiots who were horny - I began to read.

To Start - ask your love partner

(gross)

for their consent in collecting a sample of their arousal. This can be any bodily fluid collected during heightened sexual bliss, but preferred samples will be taken from their most intimate of places.

I wanted to laugh, but a part of me wanted to know where it was going. Lanie wasn't exactly paying attention, anyway, but I had to get back to work. So, I collected the damn thing up, shut the box, and took it to my own home-office, which was upstairs.

My office wasn't like Lanie's - hers was meticulous, organised, though full to the brim with papers and folders and printed documents she'd dragged in from the office when she made the move to working from home.

My work was almost entirely digital, so the actual

desk

was quite clean - there simply wasn't a lot of 'work' to manifest itself in paper. The rest of the office, however, was far less well-cultivated. My bookshelf wasn't well organised, there was my collection of games in the corner in a box, and the tall lamp in the corner needed a replacement bulb, which meant that my room was either perpetually dim, or I had to use the awful 'big light'. I opted for dim.

Setting down into my chair, and shaking awake my computer, I placed the shoebox in front of me. I checked I had nothing coming up - the only meeting I'd had booked in was asking to push back by an hour. So, I accepted that, and cracked open the box.

Inside, waiting for me, was the tub. I opened the pamphlet again, and read on, looking for instruction.

When choosing an object onto which you wish to apply the cream (once properly mixed), it's recommended to choose an object that loosely resembles the sex of the recipient. For example, for a vagina-haver, apply cream to something with either folds or an orifice; for a penis-haver, apply to a generally phallic shape for best results.

'Hm,' I grunted, my general pent-up arousal from my... unsatisfying ex life starting to boil up in me. While the trans-friendly language was, in a word, heartwarming, I was curious to see how the cream was supposed to work in practice. From what I'd gathered, if I wanted it to work on

me

, I would have to mix in a drop of pre-cum, or cum, or something like that into it, and then apply the mix to something... phallic.

I looked at my desk, and saw several old pens that needed to be binned or recycled. And, knowing that I was

hard

from the thoughts going through my head, I figured that there was only really one way to know for sure. Plus, I wasn't applying the cream

to

me, so there was no risk of me catching anything.

For a logical mind like mine, with the time I had, I figured it would be silly to

completely

disregard the potential in front of me. And, if nothing else, I'd paid for it.

'Right,' I mumbled as I unbuckled my belt. 'I've convinced myself.' I pulled out my cock - a reliably-satisfactory six-and-a-bit inches - and gave myself a couple encouraging strokes. Frankly, even

that

felt like a relief.

Now, I wasn't an

addict

by any sense, but any man who isn't getting it reliably would be able to tell you that they have their go-to porn site. So, I loaded mine up, plugged in a pair of headphones, kept the volume on low, and found a few examples of what I was in the mood for. Today, that just so happened to be massage porn - very female-focused, with lots of soft moans and slow-burn pleasure. I wasn't looking to crank this out quickly, after all - I was looking to

experiment

. The video I set, of a nude brunette receiving an oily breast massage as she moaned into her own shoulder, set the tone wonderfully.

Next, I pulled out the cream, and popped the top off. In my ears, I listened to the soft

unf... oh... yesss...

of the young brunette, and slid my thumb over the head of my cock. Stroking myself a little to the sounds of her pleasure, it wasn't long before pre-cum began to bead at the slit on my head.

With the same devil-may-care attitude that led to me buying this box in the first place, I went beyond the point of no return. I squeezed the head of my cock, and a drip of clear pre-cum into the cream. It sank in, soaking into the cream easily.

Just to check, I pulled open the pamphlet, and read some of the FAQS.

How long should I wait after adding my Lover's Juices to the cream?...... It will take less than a minute before the effect takes hole, and the effect will last around one hour. After an hour, you will have to mix in more of the fluids to re-start the one-hour of effects.

Cool - so it would take about a minute, and then I would have an hour. Cool.

In the meantime, I continued to stroke myself to the soft pleasured noises of the woman on my screen - she was rolling her hips now as the masseuses slid her hands expertly over the brunette's nipples, teasing her hard nubs with nimble fingers.

After a minute or two, I pulled my attention back to the cream, and looked in wonder at what was in there - where once a thin, white cream-like substance had filled the pot, there was now an almost entirely clear,

thick

substance. Tentatively, I dipped my finger into it, and it felt almost like lube. It was slippery between my fingertips, and was just

ever so slightly

warm to the touch.

With suspicion in my heart, and an eyebrow raised, I took my hand off my cock, and grabbed the closest pen I knew was empty, and to the back end I slathered a layer of the clear substance. It left the plastic and metal a little shiny, and after I had spent a few seconds ensuring the end of this pen was fitfully covered, I waited.

And waited.

I wondered if there was some part of the process I had missed, and went to put the pen down to grab the pamphlet, when I felt it.

As soon as I placed the pen on the table, I could

feel

it. A cold, hard, wooden surface under my cock.

Only, my cock was resting in my lap, half-hard, and certainly not touching any flat surfaces.

'Fuck off

,'

I laughed to myself, hovering my hand over the pen. Slowly, and with care, I lifted it by the non-slathered tip, and held it. As soon as it left the table, I felt the sensation leave my cock, too.

It was... uncanny.

With a tightness in my chest, I slid my thumb over the tip, and sucked in a breath as I felt the

incredibly convincing

sensation of a thumb sliding over the head of my cock. It was... real. As real as it

could

feel.

'Holy shit,' I whispered to myself as I realised what this meant.

The fucking cream

worked

.

For a moment, I just sat there, marinating in the impact of the revelation, before I remembered exactly how fucking horny I was - and what options this opened up for me. So, Sliding my fingers along the underside of the pen, I began to give the pen a hand-job - and felt a disembodied echo of my movements start to slide along my cock.

I closed my eyes, letting the sensations guide me; even though the surface of the pen was hard and plastic, as I dragged my fingers along it I felt the same tension in my cock. I noticed, however, that there was no

actual

movement on my cock. There was no dragging of flesh, or shifting of the head as I rolled my fingers across myself indulgently.

I decided that meant that the cream was connected to

me

, not just my cock. Whatever I was doing, I felt the impact of that stimulation, rather than it

actually

being echoed onto me.

'Interesting,' I said, as I lifted the pen, seeing it for all of the possibilities it held.

Then, a brainwave.

An idea formed in my head that I had never thought would be possible for me.

With a shaky hand, I lifted the pen to my face, and took a tentative lick.

A sigh escaped me as I felt the soft, warm, wet touch of a tongue against my cock. It was unintentional, and as soon as I had that first taste, my mind reeled.

It was no different from using my own hand, right? Just another form of masturbation. Just me, pleasing myself, with a little help from... whatever that stuff was.

I licked the pen again, a little slower this time. From base to tip, I licked my own cock, feeling the sensations like they were real. I realised that the proportions felt a little off, as though the tongue was

massive

. I figure this was because the pen was a lot thinner than my cock, so when the same sensations were 'translated' to my cock, it was a little off.

Which got me thinking about slathering this stuff on a dildo and using it on Lanie. Not that she was usually up for that sort of stuff, but... still. The

thought

of it.

And, as I imagined how it would feel to fuck both of my wfie's holes at the same time, I closed my lips around the tip of the pen.

Closing my eyes, I could imagine that some massive pair of lips were worshipping my cock, moving

exactly

as I needed them to. I could give myself the best blowjob ever.

My tongue slathered and twisted, and my lips kissed and sucked and swallowed my length - the pen was short enough for it not to be a bother, while for my cock it was length-swallowing in a way I'd never experienced before.

'Fuck,' I moaned around the plastic as I felt myself getting closer. I fucked my mouth with the pen, one hand pumping it between my lips in a way that made it feel like someone was throat-fucking my cock unrelentingly, while the other hand white-knuckled my desk.

'Hm!' I groaned, lips closed around it.

I was so close to making myself cum - so

quickly

, too

.

It was insane. Unreal. Unbelievable.

I hummed, vibrating the pen in my mouth, making my cock shiver with the new sensations - this was something a college girlfriend had done once, and I'd ached for it ever since. That memory, melding with the whirling of the possibilities that were whorling through me... it was too much.

I came. Spurt after spurt onto my own chest, ruining my shirt as I gasped. I sucked the pen, my tongue languishing the underside, making me whimper as I expertly made love to myself.

Then, I carefully plopped the pen onto the table - an odd sensation, to be sure - and swore.

I needed a change of clothes.

* * *

Shutting down my computer, after the last meeting of the day, was one of the best feelings of any day. Friday afternoon, early finish, all projects on-target... it was a good feeling.

What trumped it all, however, was the fact that the shoebox of weird magical goop was sitting under my desk waiting for me. All the way through my meeting immediately after my experience with the pen, my mind had been racing. There was the physical side of it - the fact that I had physically felt things I hadn't felt for

years

, but there was also the intellectual side of it. The questions surrounding this stuff, how it worked, where they were getting it or making it... it made no sense to me.

There was also the question of how I was going to get Lanie to use it with me.

I brought the box up onto my desk. It sat, closed over but

daring

me to open it. My thumb rolled over the pen as it sat on my desk, just by my mouse. The

effect

only lasted an hour, so there wasn't any sensation for me, but each time I touched the damn thing I felt a slight throb of excitement.

It wasn't hard to admit I wanted to do it again.

A knock at my office door surprised me - so much so that, as Lanie opened it and let herself in, I didn't even have time to put the box away. Instead, as she stepped into my workspace, she saw it, and an amused look came across her features.

'You're so dumb,' she smiled, teasing me in that way she did.

'Oh?' I said, standing. Lanie held her hands out to me, and I took them in mine.

'I'm sorry,' she said softly as we came in close. 'It's been... a tough few months.'

That

really

surprised me. 'You don't have to-' I started, but she shook her head, squeezing my hands a little.

'No, I should tell you,' she said. 'I should tell you more how much I love you, and value you, and... and that I'm sorry. Sorry for making you feel like you needed to buy

that

.'

She nodded to the shoebox on the table.

'Yeah,' I said with a small laugh - mostly at myself. 'It, uh, seems a bit silly, doesn't it.' How the

hell

was I supposed to tell her it worked?!

Then, Lanie surprised me with a kiss - deep, more sensual than usual.

'I want you to feel wanted,' she said. 'Because, if you're buying stupid things like that to try and... spruce things up, then I need to help spruce.' She stayed close, her lip brushing mine. 'I have been pulling away from you, and that's not fair, Phil.'

I let out a bit of a sigh, even as my hands went to her hips. I held her like that. Close. Closer than we'd been outside of bed for months.

'Lanie... all I want is for us to feel connected.'

She nodded. 'I know, baby, I know.'

'So...' I kissed her. 'Without risking spoiling this

lovely

moment... what changed?'

She sank back a little, and I wondered what she was feeling. Her brow furrowed, and she crossed her arms, making the shirt she'd been wearing for work bunch up around her chest. Even an idiot like me could see that this was some sort of defensive behaviour. That she was putting a barrier between us. My hands were still on her hips, so I kept contact, even as she pulled back.

'It's been... a dry spell,' I said, wanting to fill the silence. 'And, I'm not mad about that - they happen. I just want to know if it's

me

, if I've done something, or-'

'No,' Lanie said quickly, her arms opening. Her hands landed on my arms, holding me. 'No, it's not you. It's just hard to say.'

I pulled her into a hug, and felt the way her body softened against mine.

'Just be honest with me, Lanie.'

She sagged into me, her hands drifting around my back. 'I've been working more and more with this woman, I think I mentioned her - Annie?'

I nodded. 'Yeah, you mentioned her.'

'Well, uh, it's not just...

work

that we talk about. I don't even know how it happened, but it turned from casual talks to skipping work to talk, to a bit of flirting and... I don't know, baby - I've never -

never

even met her, really! But, it hit me today that I've been having an emotional affair. And, I am so,

so sorry

.'

As she was talking, unloading into my chest, her breath got tighter and higher in her chest. Her hands were running up and down my back as her words sank in.

'Affair?' I asked, the word having spiralled around my head for so long it was the overwhelming idea, eating anything else up. 'You were cheating on me?'

'No!' Lanie said, moving back enough to look up at me. Her eyes were shiny and red, and I could see the way her face twisted into strange, upset shapes. 'No - I never cheated.'

I pushed her back a little. 'Lanie, I need you to explain this to me. Now.'

She nodded, and stepped back until her hands slipped away from mine. 'Okay,' she said, sucking in a shaky breath. 'I, uh, I have known since I was in school that I was...

attracted

to women. It was never much - a crush here, whatever. When I got older, it was the midst of the gay panic. I grew up in a small town, you know? So, I never acted on it. And I still liked boys, so I just... pushed it down. And then I met you!' Her face lit up, as her eyes focused on mine. 'And I fell in

love

, and I thought I could just... forget about it.'

I sniffed, realising I was crying, now, too. 'Until her. Annie.'

Lanie gave a sad nod, ashamed of herself, but not lying to me. I appreciated

that

, at least.

'She, uh... I don't know, baby. She woke something up in me. And it was

new

, and exciting, and I didn't know how to control it, or even address it. And I didn't want to hurt you, but I felt so

ashamed

about it that I didn't know how to talk to you without just admitting

everything

, so... here I am. I'm sorry. I'm going to change projects at work so I don't work directly with her, and I've told her today that we need to stop with the personal talks. It's over, and it never went any further than talking, and messages anyway, but I can't... I can't do that to you. I am so,

so,

sorry that I did this, and that I punished you for my own guilt. I'm sorry, Phil.'