18+
This story contains explicit descriptions of sex, body transformations, male to female gender transformations, indecent behaviour, violence and crude language. All characters are over the age of 18.
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The sultry sorceress Khadila commands an army of loyal men, any one of whom would willingly give their lives in service of their buxom mistress. Despite their efforts, she is finally brought down by a powerful brotherhood of celibate knights carrying out their holy vows to eradicate evil.
Although Richard Gallfrey and his comrades ride away, seemingly victorious, not all is as it seems, as Khadila's final spell is about to change Richard's life forever.
This is a tale filled to the brim with magical transformations, mental corruptions, breasts swelling with sexual magic, of cocks filled with powerful seed. Read on to discover from whence this wanton witch derives her power, and what debauched scheme the sex-fuelled mage has hatched from beyond the grave upon these devout knights.
Act I - Execution
My sword thudded into the side of the crazed fanatic, hurling him across the chamber to crash into a marble pillar. He slid to the ground and lay motionless, a pool of deep crimson seeping across the polished floor around his hunched form.
'You will not take Lady Khadila!' The final sycophant screamed as he positioned himself between me and the mountain of silken pillows that cushioned his reclining mistress. Clutching tight to his puny dagger, the man was clad in naught but an unbound black robe. Just like the other zealots serving in this temple of debauchery, the man was clearly no match for a Paladin, yet he stood his ground before me without fear. If not for the frenzied snarl twisting his face that defied reason, or the disturbingly erect manhood jutting from his bared loins, he would have seemed an ordinary man.
It was our grim duty to free these poor, twisted souls. Any chance of clemency in this life for the so-called 'Chosen of Khadila' had vanished when one of their number slit the throat of poor Father Antonio as he conducted the rite of cleansing over them. They had murdered the gentle man that sought to free their minds from the snares of the evil sorceress, and threw themselves willingly back under her spell. The Divines would judge them in the afterlife. Forgiveness would be granted them if they were truly unwitting victims, else the price of their sins would be eternal damnation.
'Your mistress shall be executed, by the will of the Three.' I declared, taking a ready stance as the man charged at me. I swung my great sword swung round to meet him, but he ducked to one side and suddenly he was beneath my guard, driving his blade up towards the small gap in my armour where arm and shoulder met. I jerked away, but not before I felt the cold sting of sharp metal against flesh.
I roared, twisting my arm to shatter the tiny blade between the plates of my armour, while at the same time my steel-clad knee smashed upwards through the owner's ribs. The inch-thick plate of the Holy Armour donned by knights of my Order served as a potent weapon by itself, when wielded by one with strength enough to bear its weight. The poor, ensorceled man collapsed to the floor, dead even before he hit the ground.
Silence fell upon the room, broken only by the barely audible clash of distant battle resonating from elsewhere in the temple. I knelt on one knee, breathing hard, wincing at the stinging pain in my shoulder. The zealots dagger had gone deep, but I had no time to assess the damage, as a slow clap reverberated through the chamber.
'Very impressive,' The sorceress rose languidly from her perch and stepped down from the dais that formed her cushioned throne, seemingly unfazed by witnessing the defeat of her honour guard by a single man. Her bare feet made no sound on the marble floor as she padded towards me, weaving between the cooling bodies of her former minions. 'Were that you were one of mine, what things we could accomplish!'
So, this was the witch we had come to slay. Khadila. Her attire was wholly unfamiliar to me, and her bronzed skin evoked a sense of far-off lands. Thin chiffon silks, hems embroidered with gold, wafted about her legs. They formed a half-dress from the waist down, yet the semi-translucent fabric did little to protect her modesty. A chain of pearls and blue topaz at her hips joined the two halves. Other gems and precious metals glistened around over her body, from gold anklets adorning her legs to the large diamond nestled in her bared navel.
But it was not the shining of her jewels that drew my attention. No, my eyes were drawn shamefully to the steady bounce of her ample bust. By the Three, I had seen fully grown melons smaller than those breasts! I felt the inevitable warmth in my loins, and bit my lip hard to banish the taboo cravings of my earthly body.
Covered by only the barest streak of light-purple fabric hanging around her neck and tied with a golden cord below her bust, the gauzy garment seemed not to bear the weight of her bosom. On the contrary, it clung tightly to this woman's breasts as if held in place by magic, the dark circles of her taut nipples tented the revealing fabric, all while the pert flesh below jutted out from her chest with no evidence of gravity's pull on their buoyant shape.
The rumours of this sorceress had forewarned of her beauty, but nothing had prepared me for seeing Khadila in the flesh. Even I, a Paladin of the Order sworn to celibacy for three decades or more, could scarcely ignore the brazen sensuality of her scantily-clad figure. I had never seen such an blatantly salacious outfit before, had never even known the curvaceous womanly proportions required to flaunt it were possible, yet I knew with certainty that my Order would denounce any culture that allowed their women to exhibit themselves thus.
Our reports had told of her powers over the minds of lesser men, so I steeled myself to fight whatever charm she might attempt on me. Recalling to mind my oath to the Order, and with it my duty to protect the people of this land, I summoned my faith.
I give my life to the service of the Three. I will father no child and take no woman. All I have is for the Three, and the family of the Three are all to me.
I looked her in the face and prepared for battle, resolutely refusing the temptation she represented. From the sparkle in Khadila's azure eyes, she had surely noted my long silence while I stood dumbstruck by her beauty. She licked her lips slowly, eyes locked on my own, staring deep into me, down into my soul. Daring me.
'Won't you tell me your name, oh mighty one?' she asked coyly, seduction dripping from every syllable. 'At least give me the... pleasure, mhmm, of knowing the name of the man who will take me.'
Her silken words slithered into my ears, stroking some primal part of me that yearned to please her by doing as she asked. Yet I held my silence. I knew better than to bandy words with a witch, let alone reveal my true name to one who wields unknown magic.
Khalida let out an exaggerated sigh at my stolid silence. She knelt down on one knee beside her fallen warrior, her half-dress sliding aside to reveal the shapely lines of her thigh. From there, the eye naturally followed the lines of her body towards the bulge of her posterior, where it met the curve of her back-    I hastily reined in my wandering eyes.
'This one was called Johan. Such a warrior he was, once.' Khadila continued the one-sided conversation. Something almost like affection tinged her voice as she stroked his motionless chest with the tip of her finger, perfect nails painted royal-red gliding across the cooling skin of her fallen defender. 'Perhaps if I had left him some more of his energy he may have fared better against you.' She bowed her head, waves of raven-black hair covering her face, obscuring her expression. Remorse?
'Alas, he was far too good in bed for me to hold back.' She turned her head towards me and it was not regret, but a sultry smile that crossed her lips. Her eyes twinkled wickedly as she licked her lips once more. 'And I needed all the power he could give me to face one such as you.'
I backed away slowly. Had this witch delved into the black arts, meddling with the forces of life itself? Whatever taboo powers she channelled, better they were dealt with swiftly before I lost the initiative completely. Glancing back at the shattered oak doors that had once sealed this room, I hoped to see my comrades charging through the wreckage to assist me. I had become separated from them quite some time ago as we fought our way through the corridors of this temple. Wounded as I was, I did not relish the idea of facing this witch alone, but it seemed I had little choice.
Taking one's eyes from the enemy. It was a foolish mistake, one I realised far too late. My old weapons master would have smacked me for it. Khadila was already on her feet by the time I looked back, her lips mouthing a silent incantation. Belatedly, I began to raise my sword, just as she pulled at the knot fastening the silks over her bust. Like the curtain at the opening of the play, the cloth fell aside to reveal...
A burning wave of heat washed over me. Like standing too close to a roaring fire, the skin on my face prickled and stung as the raw power emanating from Khadila threatened to overwhelm me. I gazed into her bared cleavage, unable to tear my eyes away from the enormous, round, jutting breasts that hung before me. Some part of me knew I should look away, but my eyes refused to look anywhere but the smooth swell of those great globes that each rivalled the size of my helmet. I saw myself touching them - my hands sinking into the yielding flesh, squeezing, my spread fingers barely able to grasp their majestic size. The pain in my shoulder was gone. Khadila lay beneath me as we made love. I felt the warmth of her body surrounding my manhood, the forbidden thrill of thrusting into her most sacred place. We moved together as one. Her head was thrown back in ecstasy, crying out my name - my name... "
your name! Tell me your name!"
I blinked. My vision blurred for a moment and I saw double - Khadila writhed under me as we joined in forbidden coitus, yet also she stood a few yards away with her bared chest thrust forward and surrounded by the dark aura of magic. Her raven-black hair was billowing around her head, silks billowing around her legs as though caught in a gale. Blue sparks were coursing over the surface of my armour, and I realised that the holy power of the Three that our finest smiths had imbued within the metal plates now warded me against the perverted sorcery that spewed from the depraved witch.
