The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Impulse Control

by Pizzahead

Sixteen — Growing Attractions

One of these days, when I knew Nell was occupied elsewhere, I would have to walk out the door of my third floor apartment right above hers, and get a real taste of what Colorado was like. I’d done a little bit of exploring when I took a train out here back in January, but I only went where Nell went as I stalked her. Trailing behind with my face concealed with sunglasses and a mouth-covering scarf, I observed her going about her business for a couple of days, watching her interact with her friends, commiserating with the way many people reacted to her figure, just getting a sense of what school life was like for her out here, while studying her daily patterns.

And then, with a bit of magical persuasion, I became the hermit guy that no one ever saw, living right above her. My rent was automatically withdrawn from my checking account, and it would only be natural for the neighbors on my floor to wonder why someone would take an apartment and then never use it. If they managed to get inside to snoop, they would find the refrigerator mostly empty, no bed, no real furniture at all. No signs of life, and even the front door key laying upon a windowsill, unused. Because I pretty much never walked into this apartment; I spell-a-ported in, for the single purpose of being able to cast spells upon Nell when she was at home.

Like right now, lying down on the camping mats that served as a bed, finding Nell in my awareness and casting three fresh spells upon her. Once she was an open receptacle for all the magic I might wish to aim through the floor, I rang her again.

“Hello again.”

“Hi. What was Rock up to?”

“Just something with the pool’s water temperature.”

“It must be glorious there.”

“It is, and I haven’t even made it down to the ocean yet. This villa… You aren’t even going to believe it. I’ll snap a few photos in the morning, to give you an idea of how incredible it is.”

“It must feel divine to escape the Michigan chill. It’s still pretty cold here, and windy. I can’t wait to be there with you, soaking in some sun while walking barefoot in the sand.”

I pictured Nell in a bright yellow bikini like the one she’d had in high school, afternoon sunlight casting the shadow of one boob upon the other, her own form of a solar eclipse. “Just a handful of days to go. I can’t wait to see you.” And I dialed up her attraction magic a notch after saying that.

I’d had Nell on a steady simmer since the beginning of the year, but this was the newer pattern, that I slightly raised the intensity of her attraction magic, and thus her romantic and sexual longing, every time we spoke on the phone. I was following Rock’s plan for Nell pretty much to the letter, which said screw-that to the happily-ever-after conundrum. It didn’t even need to come into play when falling in love could be made to happen, and then happen again, and probably happen a bunch of other times going into the future.

“Tell me, is it bathing suit weather there, or…”

“Definitely. It hit eighty-five today.”

“I might need to buy a new swimsuit once I’m there.”

“Don’t like the old ones?” Yellow, think yellow.

“No, it’s more that…”

She paused, and in the heartbeats of silence that followed it was obvious that she was wondering whether to say something. And here was one of the beautiful things about being within range of Nell on the phone without her knowing about it—I could make her say, and she thought she just couldn’t keep her mouth shut when she spoke with me.

“I’m not telling you this to be a tease, but… Okay, here it is—my swimsuits from last year are inadequate because I’ve had to buy larger bras. Again. It’s so crazy, but they just don’t ever seem to stop growing!”

Such an instant hard-on, even though this was no news to me. I’d been making Nell’s boobs grow oh-so slowly ever since she’d come back to Colorado. A tiny slide of the rheostat bar here, another tiny slide there, usually one little growth-nudge a week. But more recently, with her arrival in Florida looming, I’d been spell-a-porting here to grow them a tiny bit every single day. My idea, or goal, was to have her be the equivalent of two extra cup-sizes when we got together again. That would be a significant increase, but still within the realm of plausibility that this was ail growth through natural means. And from what she’d just said, it sounded like I’d hit my target a couple of days early.

She was awaiting a verbal response, something more than the heavy breathing pouring into my phone’s mouthpiece. I let her hear me gulp, then: “I’d sure love to hear what you’d say to me if you were trying to be a tease, because… Damn.”

And there I’d done it, introducing the word “love” into the dialogue between us, coupled with an admission of just how much her tits turned me on. I had confessed as much months ago, and had shown it by fucking her tits and cumming all over them, but she could be forgiven for forgetting all of that. I’d made her forget.

It was her turn to go silent, and I filled that emptiness by once again increasing the level of the attraction magic inside her. I heard an intake of breath, with a simultaneous rise in the excitement level one floor below me, Nell’s clitoris coming online.

Finally: “John, listen… I want to be completely honest with you about something, and for you to be the same with me, okay?”

“Total honesty, I promise.” A promise which, under these circumstances, should earn me a thunderbolt that turned me to ash. But, since we were operating by magician’s rules, not those of vengeful gods, I lightly buzzed Nell’s clitoris.

Now she was the one putting a series of heavy breaths into her phone. She cleared her throat, then said: “Look, I know my figure is… Everybody knows I have really huge breasts, right? I can downplay them, some, but it’s not like I can really hide them, especially when I’m in a warm room, or a warm climate.”

“Like it is in Florida.”

“Exactly.”

“So don’t hide them. I don’t really see why you’d try.”

“Yes, but… I’ve told you a little bit about what it’s like for me out here, with the neighbors across the street who are somehow always there, checking me out, and other guys on campus trying every which way to hit on me. Even some of my teachers… It’s constant, the attention I get, even when I’m not trying.”

“None of that surprises me,” I said. I’d even witnessed some of it from my front window here, as eager for a good view of her as anybody else. “You aren’t just beautiful, you’re extremely beautiful.”

“If I wanted to… But until recently I never have. I came to college to learn stuff, not to jump from bed to bed. And I’m more interested in relationship, with my heart being touched, not the wham-bam stuff.”

Similar to the music she’d shared with me, when her heart had been overflowing with potion-magic. Which I was dialing up more every time we talked, getting her there again. “You’re a woman of great depth,” I said. Even more depth than before, with her boobs still growing.

“What you don’t know… Pretty much nobody knows… I don’t even know how to say this without it sounding like I’m all into myself or something…”

“Just say it honestly,” I helped her along, thrilling to where she was obviously going.

“It’s about my figure. My breasts… You see, it’s not only that they’re so big. When you said I’m sort of extreme… It’s especially true there. Again, I’m not wanting to boast, it’s just, well…”

She didn’t know that I was already well-acquainted with just how freaking gorgeous her tits were—as far as she could remember, she had only referenced them a few times, and I’d certainly never seen her naked.

I had made her forget so much. She didn’t remember at all that we had fucked multiple times, mostly tit-jobs with the occasional hummer and vaginal intercourse thrown in. She didn’t remember that we’d already established how much I worshipped her tits, and how she had teased me to hardness so many times through talking about them on the phone, or making a show of them right in front of me. She didn’t remember that she had told me her measurements, the numbers no doubt even more extreme now, or that on one special night I’d made them double in size, while fucking them with a cock that must have been as long as my forearm from elbow to extended fingertips.

I hadn’t taken everything away, and that included enough attraction magic that Nell could never quite get me out of her mind, even with all the miles separating us and all the schoolwork taking up her time. She could remember our Christmas Eve walk, and that she’d been feeling attracted to me after that, enough to masturbate while fantasizing about me, which had made her question her feelings for the Swiss-French creep boyfriend, ending that. And she knew she had accompanied me to check out the chalet, finding my hands so appealing that they gave her a sexual thrill. The rest, though, the sex and finding my cock even more compelling than my hands, and falling in love so hard… Not totally erased, but if she recalled any snippet of those actions or emotions, it would feel more like a remembered fantasy than a real experience. From her current perspective, she had begun to feel the stirrings of attraction and even desire before she’d needed to return to school, and we had agreed to keep in touch, and had. Her feelings for me had been deepening over the ensuing weeks, every one of our phone conversations leaving her just a bit more breathless.

I didn’t know what to call a relationship like this—maybe a kind of “Groundhog Day” love? Nell wouldn’t be aware of the repetition, as long as our romantic flowering occurred in private situations, without a bunch of witnesses whose memories wouldn’t correlate with her own. It allowed me to have the freedom I needed to swim in other waters, while Nell and I circled one another with her feelings always deepening, until our friendship/semi-courtship took on definite romantic undertones, and then romantic and sexual longing, and we eventually came together again, to spawn.

All of this had been Rock’s idea, which I had loved. It was his bullet #8, specifically designed for Nell, which said: You described how Nell is in love with the feeling of falling in love, and you mentioned the happily-ever-after problem, which is satisfying in literature or movies but doesn’t work in real life. Over time, intense young love becomes routinized and comparatively stale, but with the spells at your disposal now, does that have to be true? As I established in #4, the best possible outcome is to enjoy intimacy with whomever you wish while not subverting their natural life path, letting them be themselves even when you bring them into your web.

So here is my suggestion concerning Nell: Lessen the intensity of the attraction magic to a point where she wants, or needs, to be close friends with you—that simmering degree of attraction magic is and remains the planted seed. Dim or erase the memories of everything where you became lovers, and where her emotions overflowed to the point of proposing marriage and envisioning a life together; through this step you eliminate the logistical problems, for both of you, of a “normal” committed relationship. She goes back to school, living her life in a natural way, and you live yours, which will of course be populated with other lovers. But you keep in touch with Nell, gradually intensifying the feelings of attraction inside her, eventually arranging to see each other again. Once together, you release the brakes on the attraction magic, letting it take its course or inflaming it, and together you experience fresh new love and intimacy, all over again. Nell receives the benefit of following her own basic path, making life decisions based upon her real wishes, and she also receives the experience of falling in love all over again, as if for the first time. You receive the benefit of being free to pursue other women, but you also get what you seem to want the most in life, which is Nell falling for you and experiencing heightened impulse-sex, as if for the first time.

Rock had earned his successful meeting with the Hollywood dude with that one, and his share of the money. The plan was brilliant—this time around would no doubt be different than the first first time with Nell in Michigan, where our love and all the sex had blossomed in a world of cold and snow. Now it would be balmy and sandy, and we were much more familiar with one another than the other first time, having talked so often on the phone, sharing our thoughts about food and music, telling personal stories from our childhoods, getting to know one another. It would be different, too, in that when she saw my cock for the first time this time, it would be significantly larger than before, just like her tits were, and all of that would take place again with the electricity of discovery.

“John,” she said, continuing. “It’s that… We haven’t seen each other, visually I mean, since the beginning of the year. We’ve been getting to know one another just through our voices, our conversations.”

She meant her insistence that we not communicate using Skype or FaceTime. I got to see images of her on social media like a bunch of her other friends, but Nell had always been very choosy about the images she shared, making an obvious effort to keep a low profile. I knew, as did most anyone who’d been a friend, that photos of Nell on a trip to the Bahamas, posted the previous winter, had created a real stir on big-boob forums—there was a thread about her on one forum with the heading, Amazing sunny college girl with enormous naturals!. There were only a handful of photos that the big-boob lovers drooled over and discussed, where they mostly speculated on whether her tits could truly be God-given, and what her bra size might be. Nell had changed her social media privacy settings after that, and now, even with the safeguards, her selfies were always close-ups that ended at her neck, and in the body shots taken by her friends, she was almost always outdoors, in a winter coat. The photos where she wore her form-fitting leather jacket made it clear that she was stacked like a mountain, but there were no photos where she truly flaunted the extravagance of her figure.

“It’s been wonderful even without seeing one another, because I love your voice,” I said, getting that love word out again. “So what are you getting at?”

“It’s that I’ve gotten into the habit of not advertising my figure. And when I thought back to living next door to you in high school, it was pretty obvious that you were as obsessed with my… my assets, as everyone else seemed to be. Am I right in thinking that?”

I could respond in so many ways. What I did was juice her clitoris as I confessed: “Nell, you want total honesty, and that means telling you that I think you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever known in my life. I thought so then and I do now, so yeah, you’re right. Is that a problem for you?”

After uttering those words I amped her clit even more, and fuck it—I raised the rheostat bar on the attraction magic a good bit higher than I’d planned on when spelling myself here. We were only days from being united, so why even give her any wiggle room as to whether she liked hearing that I was obsessed with her tits. I could hear the difference in her breathing through the phone, along with being there inside her on the field, and to Nell it had to be this equation: “John thinks I’m the sexiest woman he’s ever known, and when he tells me that it gives me all these feelings that make me so hot.”

“No, not a problem,” she said, and her voice was noticeably different, thicker or more liquid. “I’ve been… I was telling you how I used to feel, but recently… I want you to know something, okay? We were starting to get close back at the beginning of the year, and I thought… And now I’m… I’ve kind of been changing, getting more… It’s just that you might have this idea in your head of what I’m like—what I look like in a swimsuit, how I behave, what I like or want… Even what I want from you.”

She trailed off, and there was a change in the impulses within her clitoris, and I hadn’t made them happen. Was she touching herself down there?

I juiced her clit more and just barely heard her gasp, and said to her: “Nell, I have this feeling that you’re kind of circling around something you want to say to me.”

“You’re right, I…” She had the impulse to confess something and I pushed hard there, making it tumble out. “It’s not just that they’re so huge!” she almost shouted. “When I see myself naked, I don’t even understand how my breasts can be so…”

She paused, and audibly fumed through her nose, and it felt like that hot air went straight into my dick, filling it with want and making it pulse even harder.

“I never thought I was vain, but recently… No one but me sees them, so no one even knows except my doctor out here, and she… She used to say that she’d never seen anything like them in her life—she’d start talking about golden ratios and black swans, and… I remember, back in the autumn, she said that my breasts broke all these laws of physics, like they just weren’t possible or something, and that was before they’d even gotten this huge and this… this…”

I smiled, thinking to myself: “Ah, the tit-struck doctor again.” I loved it when Nell repeated herself but had no awareness of it—it was rarely word for word, the human mind always fresh, even when compelled into blindly repeating itself. But wait—was there new information being conveyed this time?

“Nell, why did you say your doctor used to say those things?”

“Because… I don’t quite know how to say this…”

“Just tell me what you’re trying to tell me,” I said, grabbing hold of every impulse I could find in her to speak, and reveal.

“I went in to see my doctor, Dr. Antonetti, for a flu shot. It was routine, not even a formal check-up, a bunch of us going in at the same time. But she pulled me aside and there in the examining room she asked if I might be pregnant because she could see that my boobs had grown really fast. I knew I wasn’t pregnant because… That doesn’t matter, but I know I’m definitely not pregnant, and she had me take off my blouse, presumably for the stethoscope, and with me there in my bra Dr. Antonetti just looked shocked, just kind of gaping and shaking her head, and she asked me to remove my bra and I did—I mean she’s a doctor, and then she went so, well, weird, like completely stunned into silence, just staring for the longest with her mouth hanging open!”

Nell stopped speaking and drew in a big breath, which I could just imagine putting pressure on her bra-strap downstairs. I kept the pressure on her impulses to speak, to say what she had to say.

“I didn’t know what was going on—it made me feel really nervous, like she’s a doctor and what if she saw something wrong, gawking without speaking like that, and I had to urge her to say something and go on with the examination. I can’t tell you how bizarre that was, like she couldn’t process my boobs or something. She seemed so discombobulated and I asked her point-blank if there was anything wrong with my breasts, and she kind of horse-laughed and said no, they’re perfect, your breasts are just so perfect and… And she asked me if I ever had back problems and I said no, not even close, but she didn’t seem to hear me, telling me she’d massage my back any time I wanted, for free, even as a house call. I think she wanted to… But why am I blabbing like this? You don’t need to know all this, just… I feel like I have to let you know…”

She faltered, either not quite sure how to describe her compulsion to “blab”, or wondering how I felt when hearing that her doctor wanted to pay a tender house-call. I just loved that with a combination of amping Nell’s attraction for me and impulse-nudging her into speaking her mind, I had her telling a story like this that was really all about her breasts, so different from all the other conversations we’d had since she returned to school.

Beyond that, what she was speaking about had me feeling about twenty times harder than hard, because I believed that all she was saying about her tits had to do with the more I’d aimed at them back in December. They weren’t just two sizes bigger; they were magically somehow even better, whatever that meant—perhaps more creamy and gravity-defying, or more compelling, or more mind-boggling, all in addition to my steadily growing them larger. All exemplified in this story of her doctor, who in seeing them in all their splendor, had found them so awe-inspiring that they had startled her into open-mouthed silence, and got her aching to experience them in a non-clinical setting.

“Nell, I’m trying to understand exactly what you’re telling me,” I played dumb, milking her forced compulsion to talk tits for all it was worth. “You’re a beautiful woman, and extremely blessed; everyone who meets you knows that. So…”

“I’m changing, that’s what I’m trying to say. Physically since you last saw me, but it’s more than that. I… I liked that my doctor reacted the way she did, because… It’s not a thing about women; I’m not saying that. It’s actually hard to describe—maybe that’s why I’m all over the place in this conversation—but there’s something about my attitude about my body that’s different, like how I feel when I look in the mirror, or when I’m in the shower or getting dressed in the morning. I’m not the same. It might sound crazy but I’ve been feeling so—“

“Yes, tell me how you feel,” I urged, lifting the mental rheostat bar on her attraction magic even higher.

A outpouring of breath through the phone, and then: “God, I love your voice! You want to know how I feel? Like everything about me, in me, is growing, or blossoming. I feel… I feel, that’s just it, like my heart is waking up. I almost want to cry with it, because inside I have this… this yearning, or… I’m beginning to feel like something in me is ready to burst open!”

She laughed, maybe with delight or something like shock at the depth of the emotions awakening in her, and I turned that into an audible hiss by juicing her clitoris again, stronger than at any time since those tit-fucking days back in Michigan.

I thought I heard her cry out, but dampened or somewhat distant, like she’d made a point of pressing the phone to something, maybe even her tits, to muffle the sound. I could sense her clitoris continuing to spike, and… Whoa, was I… I was, suddenly sensing her nipples in my awareness, throbbing and yearning with the kind of impulse-fever that I’d only been able to feel and detect in a woman’s clit up until that moment.

What was happening? Were her nipples teaming up with her clitoris in a new way? I wanted to run down the stairs and pound on her door, or somehow drill through the floor with my dick to get at some magical mammaries, being there to take the measure of this new development. Was this a part of the more, too, that when Nell’s desire got ramped up, her nipples came alive to an entirely new degree?

“Hold on for a second!” she rasped into the phone, like she needed to take care of something. That something, I could sense, was herself, Nell pulling at her nipples, getting them throbbing and aching with her clit ready to boil over.

The pressure in my swim trunks and sweatpants was such that I had to lower them to free my cock, just so I could breathe normally. I’d probably gone too far off-script by getting Nell boiling like this before we’d even reunited, but fuck it; every time I got her to fall in love with me should be its own unique adventure, and this time if she found herself having a sexual meltdown through voice-contact alone, then how special might it be when we were face-to-face at the airport, or in the pool, or wading in the Atlantic with my cock wedged between water-buoyed super-tits? I loved hearing Nell’s description of what she was feeling in her heart, or what might be happening to her breasts—she didn’t really understand what was going on, and it had me wondering if our lovemaking dynamic might have some new surprises, the result of her tits being even more this time.

It also had me wondering what might be transpiring in a similar way, over time, with Meghan and Lila, as I’d aimed that general more at Meghan’s pussy, and at Lila, too. I still didn’t know for sure whether my stepsister had magic in her, but she sure was one enthusiastic fuck. I hadn’t seen her since late January, when I’d visited her in New York City while on one of my book-assignments. And the last I’d fucked Meghan had been just after that, and she had been every bit her incredible savant-pussy self then, but with no additional changes that I’d been able to detect.

“J-John!” Nell got out in a breathy whisper, “I’m sorry but I need to go! ! really can’t wait to see you again and I want you to know that I’m… Every time we talk, I swear I get more and more excited about flying there to spend time with you!”

The truth? That she was so close to cumming, but she wasn’t ready to make it plain to me that our conversation, and what I’d made her feel during it, had her going at herself, her clit and even her nipples on fire. I could probably push her into revealing all of that if I wanted, but patience, patience. The entire script I was following was built upon a slow and steady approach until we were physically reunited, and I’d already stomped on the accelerator, speeding her up faster than planned. I could wait—it was only a few days now before I’d have Nell and her wonder-tits smothering my dick, and to relieve the pressure that had me ready to scream, Stacy was only an eye-blink away, haunted by her memories of a giant schlong.

I cleared my throat and made a point of speaking normally, like I had no idea how excited Nell was right now. “I have your flight info, and I’ll be at the airport to pick you up.” As long as the book didn’t make me be somewhere else. It was the only thing I was worried about, but I trusted that I was in the clear, as there hadn’t yet been a dream that made me jump out of bed and hurry off to some distant place. In that way, the book had been merciful so far, giving me time to adjust my immediate schedule to fulfill its obscure commands.

“I’ll see you Friday!” she shouted into the phone. “I can’t wait!”

“Bye. And good luck with your studies.” Studying the art of getting off, maybe.

That was that for our phone conversation, but not my being inside of Nell. She was one floor below me and I could feel her touching her clit, presumably with her fingertips, while also rolling and tugging on her left nipple, which felt… Wow, I had never felt physical impulses so vibrant coming from anything but a woman’s clitoris—what was that like for Nell, to have so much intensity bubbling inside her nipples?

I could sense exactly where she was, and I walked to that spot in my unused bedroom, lying down on the carpeting directly over her, closing the distance between us. I wished I had a peephole in the floor, giving me a view of what I could sense happening. I closed my eyes and create a picture of Nell lying in her bed, her tits rocketing upwards by the compression of her arms, her right hand disappearing between her thighs as her left forearm rested upon the soft landscape of her tits, three fingers tugging at that sizzlingly sensitive nipple. I saw her phone discarded beside her, schoolbooks temporarily forgotten, the woman I loved in a glazed state, her open mouth contorting, little breathy cries escaping her lips.

I wanted her to get off good and hard, because she had to connect her body’s runaway excitement with the anticipation of what she could do with me or to me in just a few days. Either that or it was in response to how our conversation had swerved into being one where Nell talked almost exclusively about her tits. We had never had a conversation like that before, where it was either that she couldn’t get her mind off her tits, or she wanted to make sure that I couldn’t. And she was right—if any other woman had gone on and on about just how spectacular her boobs were, it would have been a sign of runaway narcissism, or plain shallowness. In her case, though, it was just reality—her tits were not normal, and maybe not even quite human anymore. They were enhanced in a way that might be completely unique, and for me a description of heaven might be Nell fucking Brockton obsessively talking about her tits while she pictured using them to make me blast off.

And so with my mind I rode her to orgasm. I didn’t pour gallons of gas on her clitoral impulses, and it was even more tempting to go crazy with the new nipple-screaming impulses I could sense. I did amplify her pleasure some, enough that with my ear to the floor, I could hear her voice when she came, a series of helpless cries that turned into a loud and sustained groan, and then a final “Unnhh!”

This was the first time in more than three months that I’d heard and felt Nell climaxing. As far as I knew, it might be her first climax in months.

My cock was so hard. I rolled onto my back as she went quiet down there, slowly rubbing at my tower of an erection, wondering just how big I should get to have Stacy foaming at the mouth back in Florida. Really big. Maybe even fuck-with-her-sanity big

I stood and dumped the sweatpants on the floor, back to being dressed for Florida. Glancing at the photo of the bedroom where I’d been not too long before, I cast the spell and presto-change-o, I felt myself surrounded by thicker air. Back in Boca the air-conditioning was on, but even so this room was ten degrees warmer than it had been in Colorado. I just stood there a few seconds, getting my bearings and listening. It was quiet, and when I tried to find Stacy on the impulse-field, she was outside, somewhere on the patio.

I was still aching from Nell, and wasted no time casting fresh spells on Stacy. This was far from the first time I’d gotten a raging erection from talking with Nell, working things out so I could relieve that pressure by fucking the daylights out of another woman. Mary, always ready for a good hard fucking, had been the most frequent recipient of my lust for Nell, and I knew from experience that after being right above Nell, in her yet unable to touch her, I was likely to go heavy at wielding my magic. Call it compensation through excess, and after what I’d just felt in Nell this time, her nipples impulse-blazing in a whole new way…

“Oh Stacy,” I spoke, deciding right then and there that I wanted a full cocktail inside her, nothing held back.

I made sure I had a huge bottle of lubricant on my bedside table—never leave home without it—before venturing upstairs. Sure enough, the others were all still out on the patio, enjoying the balmy night air. Several were in the pool, including Sally in Rock’s arms, while Stacy was right where she’d been when I’d left, apparently having her ear talked off by Rhonda. They were sitting profile to me, and I could see that Stacy had refilled her wineglass, perhaps more than once, while the others were still drinking beer.

Which was just fucking perfect for attraction magic.

Nobody had seen me yet. I was in the kitchen, which was about as big as the entire apartment I’d just beamed in from. Through the window, I focused on the wineglass right there in front of Stacy. The fingers of her right hand were touching the stem, and maybe even gliding upon it, like she had dick-stroking on the brain. I cast the attraction magic upon her wine and I waited, watching Rhonda gesticulate as she talked and talked. Stacy was either listening or pretending to, and I was just about to cast the impulse spell on Rhonda to shut her up when Stacy lifted her glass, and took a good long sip.

“You are fucking mine,” I said, just grinning with my cock throbbing, letting a little time pass so the magic could settle into her system. She’d been mine already, just through the manipulation of her memories and what seemed to be the intensity of her size fetish, but having already proven how the right kind of memory breadcrumbs could change her behavior and lead her into flirting with me, I was ready to seal the deal. She had once been something like Nell, an extraordinarily beautiful woman completely out of reach; now I could get anything I wanted, and I wanted to see what those delicate features looked like when she was outright drooling, with a ball of super-lust beginning to glow near her heart.

I could sense the change in her, and watch its effect as her posture changed. With the attraction magic alive in her now, she sat straighter in her chair, like she’d just been pulled to attention by the realization of how she felt about me, the truth of it tugging her into straightening her spine. Her big tits were suddenly more prominent and her ass shifted in her chair, her legs uncrossing, feet planted for action.

Peach emerged from the pool; I hadn’t noticed her being in there earlier, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her body as she dried herself off. There must be thousands or millions of ways for a woman to look sexy—her way was to have a particularly tiny waist that accentuated the slightly exaggerated flaring of her hips, with skin as smooth as her nickname implied. I’d bet anything the woman didn’t even have to shave her legs, they were so sleek by design.

With a lime green wrap over her shoulders she sat down next to Rhonda, the two women’s knees touching. Peach said something to Stacy, who didn’t appear to hear; her head was turned in the direction of the villa, and I knew she’d seen me framed in the kitchen window when her clitoris flared to life.

“Desire me,” I said, making a point of not looking at her, feigning that I was rinsing a dish or something. What I was doing, though, was rinsing away any hope of self-control within Stacy, by raising the bar on the attraction magic way high. I didn’t intensify her into the Nancy craziness zone, but more than enough to have her natural emotions overwhelmed by desire. And just for good measure, to get the ball rolling fast, I gave her excited clit a good hard shove.

I could sense Stacy having a near-meltdown, and I was about to leave my vantage point of the window when I saw Peach pick up Stacy’s wineglass, and take an exploratory sip. “Oh, you careless thing,” I whispered, not sure if I meant Peach or myself.

I could smile, because this wasn’t going to be a runaway disaster like I’d experienced during Christmas season; I could shape Peach’s inevitable attraction to where she only somewhat noticed it, or she felt like she might die without having my cock inside her. I waited a few extra seconds to see if Rhonda might also take a sip of Stacy’s wine—I had yet to put attraction magic inside a lesbian, and I kept wondering how long the spell would hold a woman of a different persuasion—for a good bit of time, or more like Blizzard, able to shake the portion off like a bit of powdered snow in his fur?

Stacy’s insides were roiling, her clitoris making her jumpy, and I didn’t stick around to watch what might happen next. I was already at the stairs to the lower level when I thought I heard glass shattering—hopefully that was Stacy’s wineglass as she got up too forcefully, and not the whole tabletop breaking. There was a scraping sound, which was probably her chair being pushed back in a hurry. I could imagine Stacy rushing away from the table with her nipples straining, pointing her where she just had to go. I’d bet anything Rhonda and Peach were watching it all happen, and I wondered, especially, what Peach might be feeling just then. Rhonda, for her part, had been showing plenty of laser focus on Stacy’s camel-toe and cleavage display earlier, and I’d bet anything that Rock was tuned-in, and unlike the others he’d know exactly what was going on.

None of that mattered to me right now. I made my way down the stairs and paused beside the pool table, able to sense that Stacy was almost at the sliding doors, ready to come inside. I made my way down the hall to my bedroom, and knew when Stacy had entered upstairs. She paused, probably glancing towards the kitchen, and in a few seconds she had an impulse to go to the stairs and call my name.

“John! Are you down there?”

She listened and leaned, and her feet were already moving ahead of her conscious thoughts. I insisted that they keep moving, and in this way I brought Stacy downstairs while I retreated into my bedroom. Just inside the door I shed my swim trunks and shirt, and got in the bed, pulling the covers away, but not the top-sheet. I lay under that while I drew my target down the long hallway, and as she approached I grew my aching cock, just freaking grew it, even a little bit past where it had been when Stacy had caught sight of me fucking Mary.

My door was slightly ajar, and out there Stacy raised her hand to knock. That impulse I killed, while what replaced it, to just push the door open and step in, I pushed.

I had my eyes closed, pretending to be stroking my cock under the covers with no awareness that she was there. That ruse only lasted a split-second, as Stacy let out a quick “Ahh!” when she saw what I’d wanted her to see, her clitoris simultaneously flaring.

I didn’t pretend that I hadn’t heard her; I opened my eyes and figured any expression would do when her gaze was completely locked upon the indications of my enormity. In seconds, the camel-toe that Stacy Putnam had been showing off all night had become a dark stain between her legs, the woman and her clitoris both teeming with impulses.

Even to me, knowing that it took magic to make it possible, the sheet-tent rising up from my middle was just unreal, like my dick was some sort of erotic ghost. Stacy was riveted, pretty much immobilized by a sight at would probably have any of the other women in our party believing that I had some kind of trick object under the sheets, the whole thing a sick prank. She believed, though—she had glimpsed my giant tool before, and her clitoris was a wetness factory with her heart also energized. Size-fetish, meet attraction magic, and the both of you say hello to what could become, with just a thought, the biggest dick in the world.

“I need to see it!” she squeezed out, her voice rough. “I think… I think…”

What she thought, but was having trouble saying it, was that she thought she was in love, and in lust, both believing and unable to believe that her deepest sexual fantasy was a dozen feet in front of her, as real as anything. I could feel her huge-cock fetish in the way her clitoris didn’t just burn; it raged, without me even fucking with it.

“Shut and lock the door, Stacy.”

She complied without ever taking her eyes off the towering tent at my middle. She took a single step forward, stopped, gulped. Pussy-scent hit my nose like a portentous wall of weather, and that must be what it felt like to her, a perfect storm of arousal from the eruption of attraction that had hit her, all on top of finding out that I was even huger than she’d remembered.

“Uhhh Gawwwd!” she exhaled, standing stiffly, essentially immobilized by the sight in front of her. “I need to see it!” she repeated, her chest heaving from the way she was gulping in air.

“You show me your tits firs—“

Her blouse was over her head that fast, her tits bulging in a white satin bra. I had just enough time to notice that her shoulders and waist were just superbly muscled, and then her bra was coming off, and once her tits wobbled free, they were all I could focus on.

They weren’t magic-blessed like Nell’s, but by any other standard, any human measure, they were simply magnificent. So large, so round, her areoles an intense shade of pink that made it look like her breasts had just come out of a steaming hot shower. I loved how there was just the beginning of a tan line highlighting their creamy smoothness; by the end of the week those lines of demarcation would be more distinct, and I was all for it. She knew her tits were fabulous, absently lifting them in her hands with her eyes never wavering from the sheet-covered tower that was her goal.

“I’ll do anything you want!” she said, believing she even had a choice.

No choice, not when In my special sight I could see the beginnings of that glow in the center of her body, the ball of need that I could make glow like the sun if that’s what it took. But Stacy had been trapped weeks and weeks ago; she had essentially created what was to happen by choosing to open that bedroom door, watching for several seconds as I’d monster-dick-fucked Mary McCabe.

I felt like I could blow ten loads in half a minute, I was so hard, first from Nell and now this. Seeing Stacy in this state was just too hot, and I decided to draw it out for a little bit, wanting her to have to endure her own stewing. I played cool, leaning sideways to reach out for the bottle of lotion I’d strategically placed beside the bed. Once I had it in my hand, I took hold of the sheet and very slowly, like a strip-tease, glided it away. The sheet’s edge caught on my oversized crown, and a hard tug got my monument of a cock swaying sideways as it was unveiled.

“Uuuhhh!” Stacy whimper-cried, sinking to her knees. “Oh my God, oh my God…”

She could still see everything from down there. I raised the bottle above and squeezed, and let a long stream of liquid hit my cock and run down. Reading her insides, it was like there was a direct line from her eyeballs to her clitoris, and because of that, I decided to throw any restraint or sense of reasonable proportion out the window. I used both hands to glide the oil down my cock, and as I did so I magically pulsed it longer, thicker, and on the up-glide I went larger still, adding several new inches like I hadn’t even been fully hard before.

“Ahhh Jeee…” she got out, and I saw it wasn’t only her pussy that was flowing. Her eyes were wet, tears streaming down her cheeks, and I was pretty sure they were tears of amazement, or perhaps they poured forth from an emotion that could be called fetish-deliverance, like her wildest fantasies, which were supposed to be impossible, were somehow coming true. Seeing that, I decided why the fuck not, and magic-pulsed my cock an extra inch or so even larger, and that did it to Stacy, an orgasmic wave welling up and pummeling her body, battering her being from the sight alone, no touching or impulse-action needed.

This girl had a thing about gigantic cocks, enough that she could come from the visuals alone? I’d give her some gigantic cock, and climaxes that were just as colossal.

She had collapsed forward, boobs to the ground, and I got up, and pulled her up, and tugged her onto the bed. My cock inadvertently jabbed her in the thigh, and on her ass—it was like a bull’s cock in a China shop, merchandise beware. When I climbed onto the bed, my dick lightly knocked her in the face and she moaned, and it wasn’t a moan of protest. Her gaze appeared a little unfocused and her hands clawed for it, found it and started a frenzy of exploratory squeezes, groping the shaft, my balls, everywhere. She stared wide-eyed and kept moaning and gasping, her hips wiggling crazily, and it hit me that she was trying to get her shorts and panties off without ever letting go of my oversized meat.

I shifted my body and worked her clothing free, Stacy never releasing her prize. It wasn’t a surprise that her pussy was shaved bare; her camel-toe display had been so graphic that it was almost like I’d been introduced to this pussy hours ago. Both of her hands were rubbing at my cock-head now, and it was so weird but her eyes just stared at the ceiling, open but kind of unseeing, like she was afraid to fix her gaze again upon the monster in her hands. Because she might go kind of nuts? It sure looked that way.

I’d had no experience at fucking a woman with my cock grown this humongous—I’d never gone quite this large, ever, not with Mary or even that one night when growing my cock to be a match for Nell’s whopping tits. Even so I took control, pushing Stacy onto her back and pouring oil all over her tits. She knew what I wanted, and pushed her boobs together with her hands, and I glided my cock in there and kept going until she let out a little cry, from the impact upon the underside of her chin.

The inequality of scale was mind-jarring—Stacy was not a petite woman, yet her head looked proportionally tiny with this beast of a dick violating its space, and it was insane how her cleavage-crack could only accommodate a portion of my length. She went cross-eyed focusing on the one-eyed beast that brushed up to her lips, shoving at her nose. She wasn’t far from another orgasm, the reality of my size punching her fetish-buttons, but I wasn’t going to let her have another one on her own. Her climaxes were mine to give or take, mine to shape, mine to own.

I pulled back, gliding the outer third of my dick between her tits, tunneling into that soft enveloping flesh and emerging out the other end. Stacy was gasping, her head rapidly going side to side in a kind of brain scramble. Call it one of my own uncontrollable impulses—she was close to cumming again from the reality of the giant one-eyed beast that stretched from the bottom of her ribs to the middle of her face, yet she no longer seemed able to stare it in the eye. Maybe a part of her mind was going absent, or it could even be that not looking was a sign of reverence, like it’s said that no one can ever look at the face of God. Whatever the reason, I subverted that with the impulse magic and made her look. The impulse was there in her to try to wrap her mouth around whatever she could manage, and with both magical and physical pushes I had her there, eyes crossed and cheeks distorted, strange sounds trying to come out as way more than she could ever handle worked its way in.

Her clitoris went wild again, and this time I grabbed its fierceness and escalated it through the roof and held her there, a woman not so much at the edge of a cliff as suspended in mid-air having already thrown herself off. For better or worse even that didn’t feel like enough to me—before putting her climax into motion again I elongated the fall to the bottom, growing the distance to the bottom of her impending orgasm just like I’d grown the cock that had her so enthralled.

When I let off the brakes and simultaneously fanned her flames, her devastating climax was essentially soundless. Eventually a kind of “G-guh!” escaped from deep in her throat, and then she squirted, cum-juice just pouring out, every bit of her body quaking before all the puppet strings were cut. Stacy was on her back but even so she had collapsed, her hands no longer squeezing her tots together, nobody home.

I was left with an unconscious lover again, while above her loomed an erection that a ten-foot tall statue would envy, almost turned red in its need to cum.

“Fuck!” I scolded myself, because this had happened to me before, one of the occupational hazards of wizarding. Maybe it had been getting Nell off, for the first time in months, that had made me lose control like that. Maybe it was just too hot, being able to embody Stacy’s size fantasies beyond all reason. However I wanted to rationalize my actions, I’d gotten two lovers off in a row, without yet spurting with joy.

“Peach?” I wondered. She had potion inside her now, and my cock sure didn’t soften at the idea.

My phone rang, with one of the two special tunes I’d programmed into it to be able to immediately identify the caller. It was Meghan, and maybe she was calling to save the day.

“Hello?”

“John, it’s me. I was wondering… Where are you?”

I was about to tell her I was at home, the chalet, but stopped myself. She might be there right now, looking for me.

“Listen, Meghan, I’m running an errand. Where are you? I really need you.”

A hot breath into the phone. “Oh John, just hearing you… How soon can you be at your chalet? It’s bowling night and I… It’s my night, to do as I please. I can meet you at your place if…”

If I was free, and not with someone already. Meghan was well aware that I had other lovers, and she had no problem with that. What was remarkable was that she had performed her own kind of magic in forging a new more “open” relationship with my father, where he knew, or had to assume, that once in a while she took on another lover, too. I never pried to find out if this had been arranged like a calm and smooth transaction, or if there had been shouts and tears involved. The upshot was the same—my father had to admit that his wife was a super-sexualized woman, and she had the freedom, on occasion, to let him know she was having a girls’ night out, no questions asked. He had no idea that I was her extra-marital lover; I hadn’t made my stepmother forget anything other than the exact size of my cock, and with a healthy dose of attraction magic still animating her lust, we sometimes got together at the chalet, magic-cock vs. Meghan’s magical pussy, may the winner cum the most.

“I can be home and ready for you in ten minutes,” I said, touching my immense cock, feeling its heat in my hand.

“No, you stay away for forty-five minutes!” she said. “I’ll let myself in and… I want to get something prepared. I have an idea. A surprise. A big one, I promise.”

I sighed, wanting to beam wherever Meghan was at this instant and try to shove this giant dick inside her. Forty-five minutes right now felt like an eternity, but then I thought about what she’d said, the big surprise. Maybe she needed that much time to get into costume, something she’d been delighting to, where she assumed different personas, creating impromptu sex-dramas with my cock as one of the central characters. Last time she was an erotic nurse, needing to cure me of the condition that kept getting my dick so hard. The time before that, she’d been the world’s sexiest cop, handcuffing me and showing me what would happen to my body if I somehow got sent to a women’s prison.

“I’ll be there in forty-five minutes,” I agreed. “And Meghan? I don’t know if I’ve ever been this horny in my life. Be prepared.”

When she spoke the words, “Oh, I will be,” she sounded like an animal-trainer specializing in the handling of serpents.