The Magician's Bitch

It's about the first week of the third month when it happens.

I return to my room after breakfast, after his morning load, and look at myself in the mirror, scooping the worst of the heaviness from my eyes. In my hands it's innocuous, just thick muck, stinking ancient and musky with its virile cargo. Off-white, gooey, ropey, knotted, thick. And I look at myself, and the darndest thought occurs.

What if I should just...

But when I lick my lips, the stuff evaporates. I lift my hand to my mouth, but find it empty. Elsewhere it remains, but that which I try to taste vanishes. Something magical, something strange, so I wash and relegate the detail to the banks of memory. A weirdness, but not something to say: he'd cotton on immediately to what I attempted.

Archaelaus doesn't find me in the afternoon. I ignore that, but when it grows dark, something is clearly wrong. I climb the tower from the first library to the second, and then to the laboratory. He's not behind his desk. I go and look at the tome in progress, neat and orderly, and spot the little bottle of my semen, discarded in a waste basket. Memory might fail me, but it looks no less full.

Taking that to heart, my interest changes. He needed my fluids, didn't he? But then...

'Sonny,' Archaelaus calls. His voice carries, no matter where we are, relative to one another. 'In the sitting room, my boy. Come, see me.'

I descend, at last setting eyes upon him again. The old mage sits in a dressing gown tonight, a velvet purple and blue thing, faintly regal. A fire crackles away in the large hearth, casting a warm glow on the room and its cushioned seats. Archaelaus smiles at me, beckons me to sit on the sofa opposite the flames.

'Son, we need to have a talk. About your future here.'

I sit, nod, and point upwards. 'That bottle of semen,' I say. 'You didn't use it. It was just in a bin.'

The old man steeples his hands, smirking across at me. 'Yes, you're observant. As am I.'

'What?'

'This morning, boy. I saw what you attempted.'

I shudder. 'You mean--'

'Yes, after breakfast.' He sniggers. 'You wanted something for pudding, I take it?'

'No, I mean--'

'There's no use hiding the truth, sonny. Honestly, at this point, it would be strange if you hadn't developed an interest.'

I blush, and frown. 'Fuck.'

Archaelaus smiles. 'Sonny, would you believe I'm glad it was you who came through that portal?'

'But why?'

He nods. 'Because were it the sex-demon I'd hoped for, I'd never experience the satisfaction of true willingness.'

'With an actual sex-demon?'

The old man nods. 'My boy, they have needs, like we do. But it encompasses their whole beings. You and I must soothe our sexual urges, of course, but how we do so is a matter of desire. Can you imagine receiving a blowjob, but the giver is doing so purely to sate a need? It could be any cock, could be any man, could happily be replaced by a golem, a homunculus.'

'Yeah,' I say. 'That'd be shit. But how do I fit in?'

He lowers his eyes, aglow in warm fire, dark lust. 'Because of desire. Desire is what you felt this morning, when you tried to taste my semen. That was desire. True, earnest, noble. And ever so pleasant, to be on the receptive end.'

My cheeks heat up, and I tremble on the spot. 'It was...that was...I didn't mean--'

'Like I said, sonny, there's no use hiding.' He grins, showing yellowed teeth. 'Do you know what gives me the most pleasure, of all things?'

I shake my head.

'To have a youth, of your age, desire me carnally. Not for power, not to butter me up, but truly and purely, to enjoy the process,' Archaelaus says. 'There is something wonderful, in being so appreciated. It's why I've been ejaculating on your face since that first incident. I see, each and every time, that you enjoy being marked by me. You do enjoy it, don't you?'

Slowly, I nod. 'Yes. Yeah. I shouldn't...but I do.'

Archaelaus chuckles. 'Oh, I'll be the first to acknowledge the oddity of your interest in me, but you wouldn't be the first.' His eyes, cunning and wizened, flicker as they trace out my body. 'Perhaps the first to have no ulterior motives, however. You're not like any boy from my world, I must admit.'

I feel at once weirdly honoured, and naturally disturbed by his attentions. 'What does that mean, exactly?'

'You're intelligent, for one thing. Clever, without much trying to be.' Archaelaus smirks. 'I appreciate your presence here, boyo. You're welcome company.'

'Uh, thank you?'

The smirk becomes a faint grin. 'It must've been frustrating earlier,' he says. 'When you tried to taste such tempting produce.'

'Archaelaus...'

'I've been quite busy on that return spell today, sonny, or I'd have sought you out. But I do need some relief.' He parts his feet, stretches his gait. The silken gown falls upon the unmistakeable shape of his ancient manhood. 'Why don't you do what you do so well, boy?'

Something is off, here, but I'm not sure what. And if he's truthful, if he's been working on the spell...

'You didn't use any of cum I gave you?'

Archaelaus nods. 'I needed the image of it, not the quantity. I'm familiar, now, with the universal template encoded in your seed, boyo.' He taps a slipper-clad foot. 'Now please, sonny, help an old man out.'

Fine. What's it matter? I'm just being cagey for nothing, I'm sure. The whole situation is weird, but him asking me to give him a titwank isn't something out of the ordinary.

I go to Archaelaus and drop to my knees, per protocol. He widens his gait a little more, but we both stay dressed. The way he watches me suggests he wants something of a show, so I grin and bear it. The filthy old mage stares intently as I pull my robe up over my head, big unnatural breasts jiggling, feminine curves on this modified frame wobbling. I throw aside the garment, but he remains clothed.

'Magic away your gown?' I say.

Archaelaus shakes his head. 'Unwrap me, boyo.'

I might've once been more rebellious, but that well seems to have dried up. Instead, my lusty brain conjures up word-pairings and meanings. Unwrap, like a present. Like a gift. Like Archaelaus is rewarding me here with the apparent luxury of opening his gown and revealing his ancient monster of a penis and those sagging hulks of testes.

The weird thing is that, as I reach for the gown's cord where it forms a knot across his pot-belly, I am wanting to see what I already know is lurking beneath his robe. For the first time, I'm fully aware that I want to touch, smell, and see Archaelaus's cock and balls.

I gingerly untie the knot and pull aside the folds of his gown, and the old wizard's cock springs up towards me, half-erect already. A huge, broad, gnarled and crooked slab of man-meat, its mighty length beginning from a jungle of wispy grey pubes.

He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I instinctively meet his eyes. 'You know, sonny, that spell is coming along much better than I thought. It won't be too long before I can send you home.'

'Really?'

Archaelaus nods. 'Really.' He gives my shoulder a squeeze with his hairy old hand. 'If you wanted to taste me, boyo, perhaps it'd be best to make the most of our time together?'

'Taste...you...Archaelaus...'

'You did want to, sonny. I'm no fool. And you're a bad liar.'

I blush, and confront that awful thought. To look upon his ancient manhood, to gaze upon those huge bloated hairy balls, and to consider that earlier this morning I so very nearly -- and repeatedly -- tasted this wizened old man's reproductive payload.

This immense penis, now so familiar to me, when framed in the context of what Archaelaus is suggesting, becomes grotesque again. I look upon the man, liver-spotted, pot-bellied, and the interest, the curiosity, grows all the greater. A man of legend, an arch-mage, an old pervert. Hung, virile, assertive, commanding.

I shudder, but I salivate. God, it's so dirty, so arousing.

'I...I did.'

The old man lifts his hand to my face, and cups my chin with rough furry fingers. 'Sonny, there's no need to be so coy about it. Many, across my time, have wanted to taste my lineage, for one reason or another,' Archaelaus says, smirking thinly. 'But I cast a spell upon my seed for good reason, boyo. A vintage of the quality I produce should only land upon deserving tongues. Doesn't that seem fair?'

As mad as it is, I must be too far gone. The curiosity is too potent.

'What...what would make me deserving?'

Archaelaus rubs his thumb against my chin. 'Fellate me,' he says. 'Suck my penis for so long as it takes, sonny, and I will reward you for your efforts. I will allow you to taste my sperm.'

My heart shudders against my ribs, and my head spins. This is filthy, this is so wrong. I'm not gay, I'm not into men. I don't want to be here, I don't want this weird male-female body, I don't want any of this.

But...but I behold Archaelaus's enormous, ugly, aged manhood, and I realise that I am, despite all reason, considering this.

Would it be the worst thing in the world?

It's not like I plan to be here forever. And it's not like anybody back home will know.

And...and as much as the man is gruesome, I am stricken by this curiosity.

'You...you shoot too much.' I blush, aghast at my words, aghast at their implication. That, solved, I might just--

'That is manageable. I will have to ejaculate the full quantity, but I am the most powerful magician, my boy. It is no matter to shrink the individual spurts, to spread the timings, to give you space to adapt...and time to savour me.'

Savour him. Savour ancient old-man cum. The thought of it, the image of looking up at the old man, with my mouth around his cock, while his liver-spotted old body shoots out that most carnal and primal of substances upon my tongue, is terrible and tantalising. God, he's so old. He's so ancient.

Why does the age seem so...arousing?

'Two-hundred-and-ninety-three,' I say.

He nods. 'Yes. Very, very old. Very old, very powerful, and very virile. Hundreds of millions of sperm in every teaspoonful, and you know I produce far more than that. By the time you go to sleep, your belly will be digesting trillions of my potential heirs.' The smirk widens to a grin. 'We both know how filthy the thought is, but your eyes are honest about how it excites you, sonny.'

'It...does.' I reach forwards, fingers hesitating before his gnarled old manhood. 'Is this a spell? A hex?'

Archaelaus shakes his head. 'No, son. I like to think it's quite a natural progression of things. Oral sex is the most intimate form of service. The most unmistakeably submissive manner by which you can meet my sexual needs.'

'All the more so if the aim is to taste your load,' I say, surprised at my honesty of thought.

The old mage, grinning around yellowing teeth, nods. 'Such a dirty mind on you, boyo. But yes, and do you know something? If you enjoyed me marking you as much as I've done lately, you're going to love receiving my seed on your tongue.'

This is pure filth. This should be so outside of my comfort zone.

I came here, to Archaelaus's tower, as a straight man. He changed my body, gave me tits, to fuck them. He gave me a bigger bum and fucked my arse, came inside me. He slowly began to dominate me, and then I had to go and give him service, by using these ungainly things on my chest to wank him off. And then he came on my face, marked me like I'm his woman, and...

...and now I'm considering giving him a blowjob. No. Not just a blowjob.

I'm considering sucking his dick, pleasuring him in his favourite chair, and fully intending to taste his ejaculate. To taste the semen of a two-hundred-and-ninety-three-year-old, liver-spotted, pot-bellied, ear-and-nose-hair-sprouting mage. A male mage. A man. A dirty old man, if not the dirtiest. If not the oldest, besides.

'You do want this, sonny,' Archaelaus says, breaking my train of thoughts. He moves that hand and rests it firmly atop my head, giving me a paternal pat. 'You have dirty thoughts, as many do, and you have the golden opportunity to test them out. To see if the fantasy matches up with reality.'

I tremble, because he's right. Because as much as I'm scared, I can't fault that reasoning.

'What if I hate it?'

'Then we'll have learned that, won't we?' Archaelaus shifts his mean old mouth, nose-hair bristling. 'Your concern is more that you will enjoy it, I believe. Once you experience the oral pleasure of tending to my stave, and tasting the virile produce of my orbs, you're concerned that things will be awkward between us.' The old man chuckles warmly. 'Sonny, if needs be, I'll happily work on the return spell while you tend to me beneath my desk, day in, day out. Honestly, that would be my preferred outcome. I do so love being appreciated.'

I shiver, but nod. 'The idea of enjoying it seems grotesque,' I say. 'It seems so...so tantalising a concept, but it's so...it's so awful.'

'Is it?' Archaelaus shrugs. 'Seems to me you enjoy the attentions of the greatest magician in history, sonny. Over the course of your stay, you've come to want to appreciate me, to think me deserving of your appreciation. Is that untrue?'

I struggle to look at him. 'There's...there's something about you, yes.'

'And, as a man yourself, you must know that the best way to appreciate me will be to suck my penis, to receive my blessing -- in the form of my seed -- upon your tongue.'

He's right, isn't he? How better to show a man appreciation, to show him that you accept him and desire him, than to service his penis and eagerly receive what it produces?

'What...how should I begin?'

'Good question,' Archaelaus says. He smirks at me. 'If your aim is to taste my lineage, boyo, then perhaps you should give some love to the two places that produce it.'

'You mean...'

He nods. 'Suck on my testicles, sonny. Help me work up a big load.'

My eyes leave his, dropping down his aged form to settle on that show of ancient genitals.

Archaelaus's penis is flaccid, huge despite its softness. It sits amid a forest of grey curling pubes, all silvery and wiry, and beneath it hangs those two intimidatingly bulky nuts. Am I really going to do this? Do I really want this?

I...

...nobody is ever going to know but us.

I swallow my nerves and reach out, taking his member in hand. Lifting it, I give him a quick blushing glance and then lower my head, without another word, into the musk of his sagging bollocks. Two fat oranges, two billiard-balls, two productive old testicles. The stink here twitches my nostrils, the hairs tickle, but I bury my face between his big warm balls all the same, motorboating them as he once did my unnatural breasts.

'Ugh. That's it. Appreciate me, boy.'

'Mhm. I do.'

I manage, somehow, to suck his left hanger into my mouth. It's lumpy, uneven, fat and firm, quite salty, hairy. The wrinkles tickle my tongue, the strange texture of the testicle within the sack only exaggerating them, with its lumps and bumps. Archaelaus's left testicle, inside my mouth. I glance up past his erection, holding it with one hand, blushing as I nurse on his left nut, a greedy boy with a carnal gobstopper.

His nose hair, his ear hair, his crooked nose, his snarl mouth, his yellowing teeth. I shiver at the contradiction. He's wholly unattractive, wholly ancient and repulsive, and yet...looking up at him, I'm struck by desire, by lust.

I...I'm going to taste this old man's semen.

'Schlup. Mhm.'

Archaelaus looks down at me with smug interest as I suckle on his left bollock. The thing in my mouth is large, straining my lips. I can barely move it, my tongue doing most of the work as I suck in my cheeks about the furry wrinkly skin that holds the plump testicle of the ancient mage. Beyond the saltiness of his aged skin there's something else, some ineffable flavour. It tickles my tastebuds.

His nostrils flare, and his mouth firms-up with pleasure. 'Good. Very good. A little clumsy, yes, but you have a natural talent. How is it to suck on my balls, sonny?'

There's a wet sound as I let his bulky hanger slip from my lips, and I give it a quick kiss. 'I like how you taste,' I say, lapping at the wrinkles, spreading spit across his drooping nut. 'And how you smell.' I sniff, a little loudly. 'Rich. Powerful. Musky.'

He plays with my hair. 'Get back to nursing on them, boyo. Do your best to pleasure me.'

'Yes, uh, sir.'

I only realise what I've said when his right testicle is firmly in my mouth, being bathed in spit and massaged by my excited tongue. Archaelaus is smirking. I called him sir. It just slipped out, just came out of my mouth before his right bollock slid in. I blush hard, and look away, but this captive angle limits my options.

'There's no shame, sonny,' Archaelaus says warmly. 'I'm older than you, wiser. Ugh. The authority lies with me. Call me sir. Please us both.'

Sheepishly, I meet his eyes again. Archaelaus. Sir. Jesus Christ.

'Mhm. Slurp.'

He pats my head. 'That's it, son. Suckle. Suckle on those heavy old testicles.'

My face is red and my head is spinning, racing with naughtiness and shame and excitement. I make sloppy noises, wet sounds, as I go between tongue-massaging the heaving nuts and kissing the sack that holds them, tracing my taste-buds along the wrinkles and fur of Archaelaus's now saliva-slick scrotum.

The old mage, my apparent superior, pats my head and teases my hair. He groans, trembles slightly, and takes his cock from my hands. 'All attention down there, sonny,' Archaelaus says. 'Worship my balls, boy. That's where pleasuring me properly begins.'

'Mhm. Mumph.' I smooch, and snuggle my face into his loins. 'Yesh, sir.'

Archaelaus chuckles paternally. 'Such a good boy, sonny. I love how natural you calling me that sounds, coming from your slutty young mouth.'

His praise hits me oddly. I really do like it when he's happy, don't I? Like some submissive loser, servicing the venerable old mage provokes some ripple of internal pleasure through me, as though this is my purpose, as though tending to him is something profoundly right and natural.

The old mage's cock is growing firm in my hand above, becoming weighty in my grip. It throbs faintly, its knobbly shaft irregular and interesting against my skin. My instinct is to look up, to inch myself backwards slightly -- balls still, saggy as they are, well within reach of my mouth -- and to find his powerfully possessive gaze. He watches me with pride, as if he owns me, as if I'm his property. And in the heat of this, in this moment, I feel like it.

I'm struck, looking up at him, aged and wizened and conventionally unappealing as he is, with a powerful instinct. The mixture of the salty sweat in my mouth, the musty old-man tang in my nostrils, and that potent low-level ineffable flavour that now I'm certain must be something hormonal, like testosterone, provokes an agreement in my dirty head.

I want to suck his cock ever so badly. I want to taste it, to feel it in my mouth. I can't believe it, but...I want to taste what comes out, as well.

Archaelaus, as if reading my thoughts, smirks. 'I think we're both ready to move on to the main event. Aren't we, sonny?'

I let slip his testicle, and nod with stupid eagerness. 'Yes, sir. Please let me start.'

'Please let you start?' He sniggers, meanly. 'Start what, sonny?'

'Please...let me start sucking your cock.'

Archaelaus takes hold of his dick, brushing away my hand. 'Sit upright, boyo. Let me get a good look at you.'

Archaelaus gestures and I follow the motion, sitting up taller on my calves. I must look a shadow of myself, kneeling here in the firelight, between the widely-parted knees of the rickety old mage. Feminised, with bouncy girly tits, and a fat bum. All because the old man wanted to have his dirty way with me.

As shameful as this is, as it should be, I'm caught up in a mad appreciation for the turn of events.