Sympathetic Magic

Warnings:

This story contains hermaphrodites (futanari, dickgirl, whatever name preferred) and incest; more story than sex; magical/fantasy themes; dickgirl/female.

Disclaimer:

This is a work of erotic fiction; All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

* * *

Sympathetic Magic

"When I said you could come inside the lab and watch me work, as long as you don't touch anything," Tamsin of Red Hill said sharply to her half-sister, "I really meant

don't touch anything

."

Melantha put down the vial of shining purple liquid that she had been inspecting and wrinkled her nose. "I didn't touch any of your stupid potions." She looked around, jaw set sullenly. "I thought it would be more interesting. All you do is chop stuff and mix them together."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Tamsin said dryly. "The work of a potioneer is long and fruitful, but unfortunately very boring."

As Melantha made another face, Tamsin mentally cursed her father for marrying again, and having another child. Then, she cursed her father

twice

for dying with his second wife in the recent plagues and leaving this troublesome teenager in her care. Hadn't his wife a whole bunch of relatives? Why wasn't Melantha sent to live with them? Tamsin was barely thirty, and had been happily living on her own. She had no idea how to care for someone else.

Scratch that; Tamsin was cursing her dearly departed dad

three times.

Melantha moved to another long table, poking at the delicate ingredients that Tamsin had laid out very carefully from this morning. Tamsin frowned; the ingredients shifted out of the reach of Melantha's meddlesome fingers under the power of Tamsin's will; using her energy like that was a little tiring, but she really couldn't stop stirring this particular cauldron right now.

Instead of looking impressed, as most people would, Melantha frowned. Tamsin frowned back. If Melantha wasn't so sour-looking all the time, she would be fairly pretty. She had the same long, thick black hair as Tamsin, courtesy of their father, and the same distinct features: heavy eyebrows, strong jaw and aquiline nose. While Tamsin had inherited the light-grey shade of eyes from her mother, which was sometimes quite useful when scaring potential clients into using her potions, Melantha's eyes were dark, and heavy-lidded.

"You know what's kind of funny?" Melantha now asked, removing the cover from a small earthenware pot and peering inside.

"Isn't it time for school?" Tamsin wondered aloud and threw a handful of ambrein crystals inside this bubbling potion. The thick liquid turned white, and became still, just the result that Tamsin had expected.

Melantha ignored the pointed question, even though she was indeed dressed in her school-clothes. "You're like, this big potion-witchy type, and all you brew is stuff for those sex-actors down on the Love-de-Sac."

Tamsin went red at that and hurriedly doused the flame underneath this current potion before it burned. Melantha was giving her a nasty little smile.

"You shouldn't be going to those shows," Tamsin lectured. "They shouldn't

let

you in, as a matter of fact!"

Melantha shrugged carelessly. "If you have enough money, you can go anywhere," she said and Tamsin made a mental note to monitor the substantial inheritance their father had left her. "Makes me proud," Melantha continued in a darker, mocking tone, "when I see those actresses and actors going at it for so long, I know it's thanks to all these potions you make."

"Shut up." Tamsin hurriedly bottled her cooled potion, scowling. "Pays the bills, doesn't it?"

Melantha huffed and went over to a locked cabinet, tapping on the glass door. "What's this one?" She narrowed her eyes at the woven wire-mesh that was placed in the glass itself, almost obscuring the view of the small phials containing a bright blue substance. "And why all the special protection?"

"It's a very expensive and delicate potion," Tamsin snapped, deftly spooning the white liquid into freshly sterilised white bottles, packing them in a wooden box lined with satin for delivery.

"What does it do?"

"None of your business."

"Come on, tell me," Melantha cajoled. "I could get nosy and break in and probably take it. That would be

bad

, right?"

Tamsin stared at her incredulously, but Melantha's grin was sharp and bright and oddly, quite serious.

"Fine." Tamsin placed the last bottle in the wooden box. "Increases the size and length of the human female clitoral hood and glans, adjusts the suspensory ligaments to aid in erection and adapts the internal pudendal artery for the sexual load."

"

What

?"

"Makes the clit bigger!" Tamsin closed the cover of the box with a little more force than necessary and hoped that she hadn't broken any of the boxes. She glowered at Melantha's shocked expression. "Makes it big for

fucking

," she said slowly. "Happy now?"

"Why would you

make

that?" Melantha didn't sound particularly reproaching, though, despite her hushed tone; she seemed... overly curious.

Tamsin shrugged, and hoped she didn't look too much like Melantha with that action. "A wealthy client commissioned me to make it. Said she had a pretty little servant-girl she wanted to get inside."

"Are you

serious

?" Melantha went back to gazing at the small phials in neat rows, locked away behind the secured glass. Tamsin patted her collar briefly; beneath the high-necked dress, a silver key hung on a slender length of red cord. The key for

that

cabinet, in fact.

"Yes, I'm serious." Tamsin remembered the day the woman and her servant had come to pick up the potion; the woman, a tall, regal woman with grey hair piled regally on top of her head, had clutched at the small case that Tamsin had handed to her, her eyes gleaming in excitement. The servant, who was indeed very pretty, had flushed as the woman gripped her hand eagerly and dragged her out of Tamsin's small shop. Tamsin had barely enough time to to rush out after the woman and give her a list of instructions, so she wouldn't overdose herself or her servant, if she wanted to go that route.

"It's very strong," Tamsin continued, hefting the box and placing the strap securely over her shoulder. "But enough of that. Let's go, I'm sure you're late for school."

"School is stupid," Melantha griped, but she still picked her her own book-bag and stomped out of the front door that Tamsin held open. "All the girls there are stupid," she explained after Tamsin locked her shop and they set off down the road. "Very,

very

stupid."

"I'm sure you're the pinnacle of brilliance there," Tamsin muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" Melantha peered at her suspiciously.

"Nothing. Get to school." Tamsin tried to sound like a responsible caretaker, but Melantha rolled her eyes and ambled down an intersecting cobblestone road. "And don't go to those shows!" she added loudly.

Melantha only raised one hand and made a very rude gesture. Tamsin wrestled with the urge to use her will and

break

that finger; she managed to get over it, and make her way down to Love-de-Sac.

*

"Good work," Big Martin grinned, his gold tooth glinting, as he took the new vials from Tamsin and handed her the used ones. He went over to the desk in his cluttered office and rummaged through, hauling out a leather pursed stuffed with money. Laboriously, he counted out crushed bills and heavy bronze coins as Tamsin wrote out a receipt.

"Lorna said the new lubricant makes her pussy itch somethin' fierce," Big Martin noted as he handed over the money and squinted at the receipt Tamsin gave to him.

"Tell Lorna that she should stop allowing people to push money up her snatch," Tamsin said in return and Big Martin laughed loudly. "The metal and ink will react with the potion, Mart. That fucking nasty bitch."

"I know." Big Martin continued to chuckle, putting his receipt inside a ledger. "But she's me best girl, ain't she? She'll do just 'bout anything the crowd wants. Besides, that's how she gets her tips." He winked at Tamsin, who sighed.

"Maybe I can make a new one for her, to counteract the itching," she conceded and Big Martin nodded. "But it'll cost you more."

Big Martin waved a meaty hand dismissively. There was a reason he was called Big Martin, with his massive frame and jowly face. He had the soulful brown eyes and expression of a faithful bloodhound; these made people think he was soft-hearted.

They were always caught off-guard when Big Martin threw them out of his dark show-house, sometimes two in each hand, for going too far with his actresses and actors. Granted, most things weren't too far enough, but if a performer said no, then no it was. Any further, and Big Martin would fling people out.

"Money's no problem," Big Martin assured her and dropped another conspiratorial wink. "Sex always sells. Ain't that right, Tam?"

"Thank you for your business, Martin," Tamsin said stiffly, but she couldn't help a rueful grin for Big Martin's massive smile. She'd known him for a long time, even from before her mother had died. Tamsin's mother, in her prime, had been one of Big Martin's best performers. Tamsin had a very hazy memory of peeping beneath a curtain backstage and watching the flexible woman under the bright lights, writhing on stage with an assortment of men and women.

Tamsin pushed the memory of her mother out of her mind and nodded at Big Martin, leaving his office quickly and making her way though the still-quiet theatre. Tonight looked like it would be a leather night, she noted, seeing the stage set up with restraining belts and cold steel benches. She wondered idly if Big Martin had enough of the pain and healing solution she had whipped up recently. He should, she decided and walked out into the late afternoon sunshine of Love-de-sac.

The whores were already out, nodding at Tamsin as she passed them by on her way to the exit of the narrow alleyway; Big Martin's Place was at the dead-end of the cul-de-sac, the older whores idling near that section, while the newer ones were at the entry of the road. Tamsin knew most of the established ones by name. She'd know the newer ones soon enough, when they were informed of her gentle healing potions and the very strong ones that prevented disease.

"Alright, there, Tam," someone drawled in greeting and Tamsin waved without taking a look. Sometimes they offered sex for payment of the potions; sometimes Tamsin took it. Business was business, after all and the whores on Love-de-sac knew better than to try cheat her out of her wares. Who would help them out when they had those large boils erupt on their dicks and cunts if they did?

All in all, it was a fairly comfortable life, and Tamsin hoped her half-sister wouldn't go about fucking it all up.

*

Tamsin frowned as she entered her shop and stood for a moment, listening carefully. There was no noise coming from upstairs, from the large set of apartments that she lived in (once with her dying mother, then by herself for about ten glorious years and now with the half-sister that had taken over her mother's old rooms without even so much as a by-your-leave).

However, there was a soft, shifting sound from the direction of Tamsin's private labs. She hurriedly went through the doorway that led downstairs, snapping her fingers to quickly set every single one of the candles and sconces ablaze, shifting the room from the weak twilight gloom filtering through the high, narrow windows, to a bright wash of warm yellow light. The energy it took to do that was like a kick to her chest, but she breathed deeply for a few moments and regained some of her balance.

She gazed in horror at the cabinet that Melantha had been so inquisitive over this morning; one of the small doors was standing open. The glass wasn't broken, she noticed as she walked over, setting down her carrying-box. The key was still around her neck, how the hell did--

A small moan caught her attention and Tamsin went on tiptoe to peer over the high table that stood between her and the cabinet. On the other side, sprawled on the floor, she could just make out Melantha's frame, still clad in the long, heavy grey uniform that the school insisted on. Her booted feet were twitching slightly.

Tamsin rushed around, kneeling and grabbing Melantha's shoulders. The girl moaned and moved weakly, a light blue froth bubbling at her lips.

"Idiot!" Tamsin looked around, closing her eyes briefly at the sight of three vials lying almost innocently on the floor. "Oh, shit."

She leapt up and raced over to a shelf on the other side of the room, fingers hovering over the bottles. Tamsin seized a tall one , almost filled to the brim with a thin red liquid, ignoring the clatter of the other bottles as they fell.

As soon as she returned to Melantha, she wrestled the heavy girl into a half-sitting position and pulled open her bottom lip, forcing the liquid down her throat. It was a general antidote, excellent at cancelling out the temporary effects of most other potions... but the blue one had been specially made to physically alter the human body. An overdose could mean a permanent change.

"Tam... sin?" Melantha groaned when the last of the red potion slid down her throat. "Ow... hurts..."

"You fucking idiot!" Tamsin cursed, tossing away the tall bottle and pressing her hand to Melantha's forehead. "Why did you do something so stupid?!"

"...because... I could?" Melantha was actually giggling a little. Tamsin wanted to choke her to death. Stupid,

stupid

girl. "Ow. Ow, hurts."

"Where," Tamsin asked flatly, even though she had a very good idea of

where.

"Where hurts?"

"My crotch." Melantha wriggled and gasped. "Hurts. Burns."

Gritting her teeth, Tamsin adjusted her so that her back was resting against Tamsin's chest, and began to pull up the coarse material of Melantha's uniform. It was a shapeless, long dress, with full sleeves and a wide collar. The ultra-conservative school was the only one of high quality for miles around. It was really a pity they had failed to drum any common sense into the girl in the month since she had been there.

A solid lump was formed at the juncture of Melantha's legs; she hissed as Tamsin continued to drag the uniform up over it.

"Sorry, sorry," Tamsin muttered, not that sorry at all. The black boots, with shiny gold buckles, went up to the middle of Melantha's long, pale legs. Tamsin was sure that those weren't school issue. When

Tamsin

had gone to that school, all shoes were to be no more than ankle-height.

Her sister was a rebel, obviously. A

stupid

rebel.

Tamsin rolled the school-dress up to Melantha's waist and sighed in displeasure; not at the fairly sensible white panties that she had on, but at the angry red head of an enlarged, aroused clit that was peeking from underneath the waistband of the underwear.

Melantha's hand went to it immediately, clutching it. "Hurts," she moaned weakly even as her hips began to thrust; she probably wasn't even aware of what she was doing. "Tam... Tamsin, help."

"It wouldn't

be

like this if you weren't so fucking

nosy,

" Tamsin snarled, but she reached out and brushed Melantha's hand away. Unceremoniously, she dragged down the panties, which were quite damp to the touch. For a moment, Tamsin could only stare.

Melantha's enlarged clit looked very much like a regular dick; the shaft was long and smooth. but the head wasn't as bulbous. Of course, there were no balls; Tamsin could still see her vaginal slit. The coarse black pubic hair was shorn low, and she could clearly make out the glistening pout of fat wet lips.

"Hang on." Tamsin wrapped her hand around the engorged flesh and stroked it slowly. Melantha clutched her arm tightly, crying out in mingled pain and relief. The cock, for that was what Tamsin decided to call it in her mind, was nicely thick and warm, the skin smooth against her palm. It throbbed against her fingers and Tamsin bit her lip, feeling her own pussy twitch and become damp in anticipation.

That's not going to happen, though

, she told her body fiercely.

So just calm down.

Melantha was writhed helplessly, turning her face to press against Tamsin's neck, a trembling moan riding every tortured breath. When Tamsin pulled back her hand to lick her palm, a mewling sound of complaint issued from the girl before Tamsin put her hand back, jerking at her dick quickly.

"Oh,

oh

," Melantha groaned breathlessly, over and over against Tamsin's neck and she thrashed and bucked. Tamsin wrapped her free hand around her chest, held her firmly and carried on.

Melantha clapped one of her hands over her own mouth, yelling wordlessly against her palm as her body went rigid for a long heartbeat; the cock in Tamsin's hand trembled and then began to soften.

Tamsin pressed her head against Melantha's shoulder, breathing deeply to control her own arousal. She

had

to do it, she reasoned. It must have been painful for Melantha to be in that state.

"Melantha, get up," she finally said, tiredly.

Melantha answered with a long snore.

*

Even though she was years younger, Melantha was taller and more solidly-built than Tamsin. That being said, it was a fucking pain for Tamsin to drag her upstairs and into her bed. She stripped Melantha of her clothes and went into the bathroom for a damp cloth to wipe at Melantha's inner thighs, which were wet with what looked like quite a lot of clear ejaculate. From her cunt? Tamsin wondered, wiping clinically. Melantha groaned and rolled over on her side, the dick flopping loosely to rest on her thigh.

Tamsin covered her with the sheet and went downstairs to clean up.

In a few hours, when Tamsin had sat down at the desk in her bedroom with a large book of potions, trying to find a proper counteractive, she heard Melantha moving around. Tamsin breathed heavily, and went to face the music.

Melantha was in her bathroom when Tamsin entered the room, so she sat down at a nearby armchair and waited. The paintings of Tamsin's mother and their father were still hung over the massive canopy bed. The curtains of the bed were wide open; Melantha seemed not to like them pulled closed.

Tamsin was considering the arrogant dark stare of her father when the bathroom door opened and Melantha, dressed in a tattered blue nightgown, staggered out.

She froze when she saw Tamsin, and a red flush stole up her neck and over her face.

"How do you feel?" Tamsin tried to sound calm, but from the quick flash of mingled fear and defiance in Melantha's eyes, she might have not been as calm as she thought.

"Fine." Melantha padded over to her bed and slid in, pulling the covers up to her chin.

"Fine? Really? That's wonderful. Now, maybe you can tell me

why the fuck

you took that potion."

Infuriatingly, Melantha shrugged and leaned back against her pillows.

"That's really not a good answer," Tamsin told her tightly.

"I don't know why I did it," Melantha muttered in a sullen tone. "I just wanted... to see--"

"Well, now you've

seen

. And you took so much!"

Melantha scowled. "Nothing happened at first! I picked the lock--"

"Great work, Dad," Tamsin loudly told the painting of her father, "you've raised a fine larcenist, here."

"--and I drank one and nothing happened," the girl finished.

"So you took another. And

another.

" Tamsin pressed her fingers to her temples. "Don't you know anything about potions?"

"No." Melantha picked at a stray string on her blankets. "Not everyone is the brilliant potioneer that didn't even make the time to save her own father, you know."

"Please don't go there," Tamsin warned, but that little comment hurt. A lot. She tried to blink away tears and won after a short struggle. "Just don't. That's not the point right now."