This story features trans characters and is not meant to be a representation of witchcraft at all.
It was a winter's night, 1689, the overcast day had given way to frost under the full moon above, stars glistened down on the Turtle Leg Tavern like icicles, despite the cold, everyone was in full swing inside. The hustle and bustle of rowdy locals clinking glasses and laughing to each other, mysterious travellers walked in, left their coats and gathered by the fire. A warmth exuded itself from the candle light and old wooden beams, the smell of stew filled the air and around a table, several women gathered, giggling to each other over the occult.
"There's no way Ophelia, you simply can't do that!" said Millicent, a merry lass with a giddy smile. "I've read all the works, it just doesn't work like that." she continued, sipping her at her glass.
"I have to admit, it does seem a little hard to believe." added Alice, her sterner, less alcohol soaked voice making her the most reserved and formal of the tables occupants.
"It's perfectly feasible. It's very possible, and you're all narrow-minded prudes for not accepting it as magic." came a devious voice, Ophelia Hemwick, the local witch.
Ophelia was infamous around the town of Turtle End and was mostly known for two things, bedding men and having a large girl dick, whether these were true or not were only things she herself could confirm, most of it was speculation on the part of the local townsfolk. She wore tight dresses to accentuate her breasts and was generally considered shameless, even by her friends who surrounded her.
"Well, I for one, wish a demonstration." came the slurring words of Blair, by far the merriest of all the friends around the table, and the least aware of her surroundings.
"Oh, a demonstration?" mused Ophelia, "choose a man and I'll show you." she said.
The girls looked around the bar, many of the men in the room were either crusty old farmers or too drunk to stand properly. Then a fresh faced tavern boy walked around the corner carrying some beers. The girls zeroed in on him.
"That one? Poor lad, but alright." said Ophelia, pointing a finger at his groin.
The young man suddenly froze and looked down at his groin in betrayall and horror before stumbling and dropping the beers all over the floor as the patrons of the tavern booed angrily, the lad's face was a real sight, his confusion and ecstasy were an odd combination. The girls were ecstatic, laughing relentlessly, but all very impressed with Ophelia's skill.
"Now THAT my dear, is impressive!" said Blair, nearly falling off her chair. The others giggled too, the other patron's seemed less impressed by the hi-jinks and soon a crowd of men gathered at the table.
"Ophelia Hemwick, how many times have I told you that the people of my town are not your playthings." came the gruff, booming voice of an older man.
Ophelia finished her drink and looked up, she licked her lips and puffed out her cleavage. "Well, Lord Jacobson, we meet again." she said, smiling.
"You will behave yourself around the people of this town, or you'll be thrown out of it... or worse." he added.
The girls at the table scowled at him, Lord Jacobson had inherited the town recently and was getting used to throwing his weight around, whilst practical jokes were something that the tavern folk weren't exactly estranged to, Jacobson really didn't like what the witches were doing, be it innocent or not. Given the chance he'd throw them all out of town.
The girls at the table fell silent, as did the rest of the tavern, several less amused men were standing behind Jacobson, their faces sullen and angry. At the back was Jacobson's wife, roughly half their ages, she was bored and as far as Jacobson cared, strictly ornamental.
"Oh lighten up my Lord, you surely haven't come to a tavern to instil your rules on the people here have you?" she teased, putting her hand on Blair's shoulder, who was still struggling to sit properly in her seat.
"You watch yourself, we know all about your shameful activities and the black magic you cast, this is god's land and we..." began Jacobson.
Ophelia pointed a finger at his groin and then raised one of her hands to her mouth to cover up her giggling. Involuntarily. Jacobson's stiff upper lip quivered as he looked down at the large erection he was now sporting, his minions followed his trail of vision.
"My lord! There are ladies present!" said one of his men, ashamed.
"Seems you need to control yourself my lord." Ophelia added, to Jacobson's ire.
He pulled off his hat to cover his groin but it was too late, it had been seen by everyone in the tavern.
"You deceitful harpy! You'll regret the day you did this to me! You'll all burn!" he said, marching out of the tavern to various giggling and jibes from patron's of the watering hole.
Ophelia had the people's backing, they liked her even if she was constantly riding the line of acceptable behaviour. The men found her mysterious and attractive even if they knew what she was packing, and the women found her wild and loved that she stood up to the bluster and needless oppression of Jacobson and his band of cronies. She generally did good work, curing various ailments and helping around the village. The lack of respect for Jacobson made the people of Turtle End more sympathetic to the girls, they did good for the people, which was more than Jacobson ever did.
"He seemed real mad this time, you better be careful, I think one of his boy's is coming to visit you tonight, I just foresaw it." said Alice, her prognostications were rarely wrong, but often misunderstood.
The girls called it a night and the three of them carried Blair back to her homestead before going their separate ways for the night.
Ophelia walked up to her little cottage and lit the candles inside, her cat Luna strolled up to her. "You've been gone a while, drinkies again?" he said.
