Morgan's Curse

Disclaimer: This is an original work of erotic fantasy. No characters were consciously modelled after any actual people, or publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. Nonetheless, anything which may be construed as such are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Part 1a: The Sorceress and the Hound

"I'm so tired of this immortal bitch schtick," I said to the vixen in the mirror.

Most women would kill to have the body I saw in the mirror. The one I was occupying at the time was around 25 years old, curvy in all the right places, and just starting to bulge a little in the midriff. Due to my curse, my body is always either pregnant or male. I can barely use magic in male bodies, so I'm just about always pregnant instead. I did get tired of not seeing the same face in the mirror for long, though.

I reached down and caressed my belly, thinking for a moment of the life growing within me. I wouldn't stay in this body long enough to reach the uncomfortable stage, but I didn't intend to switch for a while either.

Different pregnancies affected me in different ways. During some, I didn't want to even touch men. During others, it was all I could do to keep from jumping the first man I saw. This one felt like it wasn't drawn one way or the other, so I saw it as an opportunity to resolve some business matters which had accumulated lately.

My stomach rumbled a little, and I sighed. I lived in the penthouse suite of a very nice hotel in Las Vegas, which over time has learned not to ask questions about the many different people coming in and out of in its penthouse. The only thing they particularly care about is that the credit card, in the name of one Morgana LeFay, continues to accept whatever charges I deem necessary. I also occasionally cast a glamor spell so that I can walk in wearing the face which they've come to recognize as my own. Over my seemingly interminable existence, I've amassed enough money to buy several islands, if not a country. At this point, I only care about money because it keeps people off of my back. And if people are willing to ignore whatever twisted depravity which they imagine I'm involved in, they'll never guess that I'm actually a cursed, displaced soul who possesses a new body every few months.

There wasn't much point to dwelling on that, though. I was a few months out from needing a new body, but only minutes out from needing a waffle. I slid my lightly tanned, ladylike legs off of the side of the bed, slipped a silken blue bathrobe over my shoulders, and wandered towards my bedroom door.

My penthouse's kitchen was right next door, in which my servant Argyle was already cooking a delicious repast. He glanced over at me as I approached, regarding my flawless body for a few seconds.

"Your tit's out," he casually observed. Glancing down, I saw that was indeed the case. "Damn, I'm not even lactating yet and these things are already growing," I muttered.

Argyle shrugged and set a plate in front of me as he poured batter into the waffle mold. "A bit forgetful this time, eh?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Apparently so. Don't get your hopes up, though. I won't forget our contract."

Argyle made a sigh that sounded like a car driving through a hailstorm of razor blades. "I'd had my hopes," he observed.

I reached out and playfully tapped Argyle's long, tapered ear. "I'm not such a horrid mistress, am I?", I asked. "Besides, I can't exactly leave you to your own devices."

Argyle smiled, revealing the double rows of thin, needle-sharp crystalline teeth in the jaw under his bat-like face. "Some day I will be free again, my mistress. I shall taste once more the sweet blood of the innocent, then fuck them to hell."

I thumped him on the back of his scaly, bat-like head. "Oh, be quiet. You know you prefer the taste of sinners anyway." Argyle may be a lust demon, but as they go he's relatively benign. In his more laid-back moments, he's even confessed to preferring the diet of rapists and pedophiles which I've fed him throughout our professional relationship.

I folded one leg over the other at my suite's dining table and my robe slipped open again, revealing the gentle bulge of my developing belly. Argyle set the waffle I'd been craving on my plate, along with strawberry jam and a fresh pitcher of whipped cream. He was an excellent cook for a demon, and just telepathic enough to know what I'd want for breakfast before I woke up.

My demonic servant waited patiently as I ate my breakfast, then set a tablet in front of me. It was open to my appointments for the day. "You have a meeting with Mr. Wulf at noon, at his place. You may want to consider getting ready."

When I finished my waffle, I stood up and walked towards the bedroom. As I walked, I untied my robe and let it flutter to the floor behind me. I was now nude, walking down the hallway with a seductive sway to my ass. From behind, you couldn't even tell that I was pregnant.

"Prepare the car, Argyle", I commanded over my shoulder. I saw Argyle nod, and then came a dull thump and a whiff of sulfurous smoke. As the smoke thinned, I could see that Argyle's demonic visage had been replaced by that of a handsome middle-aged black man in a suit.

I reached the center of my bedroom and turned towards my closet, spreading my arms and expending a little bit of Power. The door creaked open and an elaborate silk robe flowed out and flew towards me. The sleeves impaled themselves on my arms, then the robe wrapped itself around me. Lastly, a sash tied itself around me and set itself with a tug.

I lifted slightly off the ground as my high heels slid into place under my feet, buckling themselves onto me just before I sank to the floor. A tiara, necklace, and diamond earrings flew to me and completed the ensemble as I walked back to Argyle. He bowed, and I walked past him into the open door of my private elevator.

We rode my elevator all the way to the parking level, where my stretch Mercedes was kept in a private cage right outside. I slipped into the back as Argyle took his customary position behind the wheel and started up the car. The roll-up door separating my car's stall from the rest of the parking garage opened, and Argyle drove us forward. A few turns later, we emerged from the parking structure under the hotel and made a turn onto the Vegas strip.

A while later, we were in one of the many outlying suburbs. Argyle pulled the car over in front of a nondescript run-down looking house with a big front yard.

"You'd imagine that he could simply conjure some painters", I remarked as I stepped out onto the cushioned stool which Argyle placed in front of me. He placed the pillow back inside after I stepped off of it onto the driveway in front of Mr. Wulf's residence.

"Mistress", Argyle hissed in a demonic voice which clashed with his illusory face, "you know that Mr. Wulf hates my kind. But that only my kind would actually lift a finger in real work."

I nodded. "If you want something done and don't care if anyone is happy, conjure a demon. If you want nothing done but everyone to be happy, rely on pixies." Indeed, with each step up his walkway, the perception of the front yard changed. At first it was subtle; the plants seemed sharper and more vibrant. But halfway up up the walkway, the shapes of the plants themselves changed. What had appeared to be bushes, were actually waist-high toadstools. Fading into existence as if they were a mirage, I could see shimmering outlines of sleeping or hung over pixies. By the time we made our way to the front door, it was apparent that the entire front lawn was a faerie ring vibrant with life. The house itself was far from the run-down domicile we'd pulled up in front of as well; it had grown considerably, and was actually a huge mansion which defied the actual dimensions of the house as perceived from the road. Argyle shivered uncomfortably. "I'm afraid you must come with me, my friend," I said.

Argyle opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the door creaking open. Mr. Wulf's assistant, a long-haired elf named Tanya, answered the door in a shimmering, blue-tinted transparent robe. Even while wearing a female body, I had to admire her perky tits and erect nipples. "Mr. Wulf will see you now", she announced in melodic tones.

We were escorted into a sitting chamber, where Mr. Wulf sat atop a couch all of his own. "Punctual as always, Morgana," he intoned. I looked deep into his brilliant gold eyes and nodded.

"I'm here at your request. You said earlier that the fates have interpreted for me the meaning of my vision?"

Mr. Wulf smiled, his eyes twinkling and his fangs just peeking out from his lips. He was a huge white faerie hound, easily two hundred pounds, with a coat so fluffy that he looked twice as big. Imagine a pale white wolf with the fur of a Great Pyrenees dog, and then you would have a pretty good image of what was sitting on the cushion front of me. "For the first time this century, the end of your curse is within your power."

I was pleasantly surprised by this news. "Do you know anything more?" I asked hopefully.

Mr. Wulf nodded solemnly. "I know that, one way or another, your journey will end in California. He who inflicted your curse has just been reborn."

My eyes flashed violet with rage as I shrieked, "MERLIN?"

Mr. Wulf slid off of the couch and padded along the smooth marble of his mansion's foyer, pacing towards me. The rolling muscles just beneath the surface of his skin were emphasized as he loomed closer, his huge shaggy head remaining stable as the rest of his body swayed. He sat down on his haunches in front of me, then cocked his head to the side inquisitively.

"You do want to be free of this curse, don't you Morgan?" he asked.

I gritted my teeth and nodded. "Yes, I do."

Mr. Wulf nodded solemnly. "The prophet also told me that if you're going to have a chance, there are a few conditions which your journey must meet."

I sighed. Prophets often had strange requests, but ignoring them was a guaranteed way to fail. "Tell me what I have to do, then."

Part 1b: Hitching a Ride

Argyle and I walked back to the car, and he started to open the door for me. I declined to enter, though. "Actually, Mr. Wulf says we must start this journey with nothing. We can have only what we find or take from this point forward," I said.

Argyle frowned. "No car, then. And your clothes?"

I grumbled. "You're right, no clothes either." I stretched out my arms, and my robe untied itself. It dropped to the floor, leaving me standing nude in the middle of the driveway. I pulled off my necklace and other jewelry, then handed it all to Argyle. He looked down for a moment at my full, rounded tits before he opened the door and stashed everything inside.

"I may use my magic as I like, however," I said.

Unfortunately, conjuring spells consume more power than any other class of spell. Creating anything out of nothing was going to burn a lot of Power, and my Curse meant that I had no reserves to speak of. But it had to be done, or else I'd be too conspicuous and would have to burn even more Power to get out of the situation. I looked down for a moment and caressed my nearly flat belly, wistfully reminding myself that it's the last time I would see it that flat in this body.

And then, I snapped my fingers. The air around me began to shimmer, and then my body was shrouded in a thin, cool mist pulled together from the air itself. I levitated in the air for a few inches as the mist solidified, forming itself into jeans, a t-shirt, and shoes. The only reserve of Magick I could draw on, my little one's life force, burned rapidly as I materialized clothes from thin air. Even as my new clothes finished materializing, my belly shook violently for a moment, then began to expand with a vengeance. My abdomen swelled rapidly outward as the baby aged, his life force burning as it fueled my spell. My child's life is the only source of Power I have, and as my child ages within me, my pregnancy advances rapidly. I'd meant to take this one slow, stretching out the pregnancy out for three months or more, but I knew I'd burn through the rest of my gestational period today.

I ran my hand along the swollen orb of my belly. I now appeared to be in my fifth month, as my belly was bulging out now, unmistakably with child. The shirt I'd conjured had been form-fitting when it was initially conjured, but I'd continued expanding for a while after it had materialized, so my burgeoning midriff was bare and exposed by the too-small shirt. My breasts had swollen as well, and were barely contained by the shirt. I hadn't spent any Power in conjuring a bra, and the dark discs of my nipples were slightly visible through the white cotton shirt.

I didn't want to burn any more magic re-sizing my clothing, so I simply shrugged and began walking down the street. "What are the terms of this journey, my mistress?" asked Argyle.

"We're permitted to rely on our cunning, magic, strength, and guile to get there, and to end the curse. That means we kill Merlin. However, we may make no use of anything derived from our life up to this point."

The demon wrinkled his forehead. "We're to make this journey as if we were homeless?" he inquired.

I nodded, then thought for a second and plucked his cellphone off of his hip. "I'm afraid this comes from our finances too." He hissed, an angry and peeved sound, as my finger glowed in preparation to disintegrate it. "That's my favorite phone, mistress."

I sighed and rolled my eyes, then flattened out my palms and cast a small gating spell. The phone vanished between my hands and reappeared in our hotel suite. My baby kicked violently as he grew, and I buckled slightly. Argyle caught me as I stumbled, my hands covering my belly as it swelled ever so slightly more. "Damn my generous nature," I said through gritted teeth.

"Thank you, mistress", Argyle said as he helped me back to my feet.

I waddled along the sidewalk, my belly swaying gently. My shirt, which was tight when I'd first conjured it, now rode most of the way up my belly. There was a carnal fire burning in the back of my head, fuzzing the corners of my consciousness. Being powered by fertility magic produces the problem that the sex can interfere with my thought processes a little. I was now at the stage where being pregnant started feeling good, the bigger the better as the Power of my fertility flowed through my body in an almost electric buzz. I cast another spell to lighten my feet and make it easier to walk, and idly stroked my taut belly as the baby stretched inside me, getting used to his new size.

"I'll need a new body soon," I commented to Argyle. He nodded and blinked, and the deep brown eyes of his illusory self momentarily faded out, replaced by the deep crimson of his real eyes. My bodyguard scanned from side to side, looking around with senses other than conventional vision. "I see what we need about two miles away in that direction," he said.

Under my lightness spell, walking along wasn't very hard. I practically drifted along the ground, my belly swaying perkily as it defied gravity. I looked like I was about six months along at this point, and my fetus squirmed as my Power flowed from him, growing him rapidly as his very growth fueled my spells.

Around us, the neighborhood went from nice to shabby as big cities tend to. BMWs gave way to Hondas, and then to old junkers. Mansions became suburbs, then rental houses, and then we reached block after block of big multi-unit apartment complexes. I was high on Power, recklessly tuning my senses to their peak as I saw through people and things as we walked. I cast another spell on my child, calming him in the hopes that he'd stop trying to kick his way out. Argyle hissed a warning, and then began to fade. First he became a little translucent, then he faded farther and farther until he simply vanished. Only the slightest heat-like shimmer betrayed his presence to the mundane world. For what I needed, I had to look like I was alone, and Argyle knew it.

The sidewalk was dusty and broken, with weeds growing through the various cracks. The dying lawn in front of the apartment complex seemed to cry out for a drop of moisture, and in a moment of compassion I cast a rejuvenation spell on it. A cooling mist of water covered the brown grass, and the plants responded immediately, greening and healing. I hunched over in discomfort, but not quite pain, as my uterus began sliding downwards within me, and the fetus began rotating into a birthing position. I needed to be careful at this point, because using much more Power could possibly put me into labor.

"Hey, what's up baby?" demanded a voice from my left. I looked up to see a young white man in his 20s or so in a tank top, with a basketball player's lanky but toned figure. "I'm just catching my breath," I said.

He smirked, stepping forward confidently. "You all right mama?" he asked.

I nodded. "I'll be fine, just let me catch my breath," I repeated.

He shook his head. "I would, but I can't let a pregnant woman stay out in this heat. Come on, let me drive you somewhere in my car," he said. His words may have been kind, but he had the cold, dead eyes of a shark. I once had eyes like that, and eventually learned to hide them. But eventually, I stopped having to. It seems that people can recognize a young killer's eyes, and an old killer's eyes, and everything in between. But at some point, old becomes ancient, the body count stretches past recollection, and the warning signs in the back of an ordinary person's head just don't register anymore.

"Are you sure?" I asked. I rubbed the small of my back, trying to relieve some of the uncomfortable pressure the baby's head was putting on my cervix. The main thing this accomplished was making my belly jut out in front, my popped navel protruding proudly. My jeans had been pushed way down by my belly as I walked, exposing a tantalizing view of my pubic region was exposed, and my shirt had receded until it resembled a workout bra. The heat was sweltering, and I could feel perspiration beading up along my body - it probably gave me just the right lustrous shine too.

He licked his lips nervously, and I could practically smell what he had in mind for me. "No trouble at all, mama. Just get in my car, and we'll go anywhere you want." He reached past to open the passenger door of the car next to me. "Come on, pretty mama."

Persuaded, I sat in the passenger's seat and waited as he walked around and climbed into the driver's side. Unnoticed, the car's suspension settled further as a 300lb weight settled on the rear of the car and braced itself for a ride. "What's your name?" I asked my erstwhile savior.

"Rudy", he said. I knew it wasn't his real name, but it didn't matter to me at all. I was just playing a role at this point, giving him a chance to change his mind and pick a path that didn't lead to damnation. So far, only a handful of men I've found have ever failed to choose damnation.

Rudy turned his keys, and the old car roared to life. He put it in reverse, then pulled out of the parking spot. "I'm from around here."

I nodded, then settled back in my seat. "I'm Morgan," I replied. We passed a couple of lights before I observed, "I haven't said where I want to go yet."

Rudy nodded. "Yeah, I know. I got something to take care of first though, baby," he said. I feigned surprise and said, "In that case, why don't you just drop me off over here?"

Rudy smirked. "This ride don't come with an off switch, bitch. You shouldn't get into cars with strangers. Not in your condition, at least."