The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Hi all, izenrann here again. I was once again inspired by a stray post on Chrystal Wynd’s Tumblr and my muse got all horny and commanded I write this. So here we are. Hope you all like it!

* * *

Gypsy Slut

Life as a college student isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. The shows are all full of wild parties and drunken orgies, hijinks on bar tables and late nights spent partying, but the reality is a lot more humble...what I basically did was study, study and study some more. Who can blame me? I had a scholarship to maintain.

That isn’t to say that I didn’t have a wild side, though. It showed in who I was dating—Romar Diegirn, a gypsy exchange student. Yes, a real honest-to-god gypsy. He caught my eye once when I was in the mess hall and winked at me. Against my better judgment, I winked back. He came over, and one thing led to another, and we started dating. Maybe it was just me rebelling against my set of Midwestern traditional values, but I had never had a better time with any guy, even when we were arguing or fighting. He was the trifecta—tall, dark AND handsome, with a slow drawl that made me feel weak at the knees and light in the head.

I never got what he saw in me—a comparatively normal-looking dirty blond sociology major—but I wasn’t complaining. Maybe HE was rebelling against the cultural values that told him that he should settle down with a nice gypsy girl. I had no way of knowing. I studied sociology, not mind reading.

But spring break rolled about and Romar asked me whether I would like to go see his people’s camp. Why not? I thought. It would be a welcome diversion from studies, as well as a chance to observe another culture in the wild. If I asked enough questions and took enough pictures I could maybe even finagle some extra credit points from my supe. So I said yes, and we were off in his beaten-down Jeep that same night.

* * *

The camp was more or less like I had expected it to be. A bunch of ragged tents, a caravan or two, and gypsies, of course—lots of gypsies. Most of them had the same swarthy and dark skin that Romar had, but more than a few were lighter—mixed marriages, no doubt. I took an hour or two to poke my nose around and see what was up...which was nothing much. The people here eked out a meagre existence by doing odd jobs and a few shows here and there. Most of the womenfolk tended to the hearth, while the men did the heavy lifting and fixing. A relatively simple post-agrarian society, my training told me...and to be honest, not really the way I wanted to spend my vacation. Add that to the fact that Romar had taken off the moment we arrived at camp (gypsies! not the most reliable of people) leaving me with no one to guide me around, and come lunchtime I was more than a little tired, hungry, thirsty and irritable.

I was looking around for food and a toilet when I saw it. A fortune teller’s booth. I had to smile despite myself. How charmingly clich?. But if the booth was designed to sucker gullible tourists (and I had no doubt it was) then they should at least speak English and know where to find amenities. I ducked into the low awning of the caravan it was located in and coughed slightly at the tang of incense that assaulted my senses the moment I entered.

“Greetings, child. You must be the girl that Romar has told me about.”

I looked up. A wizened old crone gazed at me expectantly, looking every inch like a caricature of a gypsy in the movies. Except this lady was real—from the gleaming topaz set in her turban to the stiches on her shawls. I blinked at her.

“Romar? What are you talking about?” This was the first time I had been here. How could anyone know about me?

“You are dating my son, are you not? A strange girl, to take a fancy to the most profligate of my brood.”

Wait a minute. I didn’t come all the way out here in the boondocks to have some old lady disrespect me out of the blue. I narrowed my eyes, making no effort to hide my irritation. “I don’t care if you’re the Queen of Sheba, lady. Where do you get off talking that way to me?”

The crone’s eyes narrowed even further than mine upon hearing that. “I was prepared to accord you some respect, child, but Madame Vera is the leader of this tribe, and she will not suffer to take this tone from an outsider. Watch what you say.”

In retrospect, I should have, but hunger, thirst, irritation and anger are a potent mix, and so the next words to come out my mouth were—“I see nothing here watching but a bunch of beat-up tents and little old lady who should probably be in a nursing home.” Romar had always warned me about my sharp tongue, but I had never paid attention.

Madame Vera drew herself up to her full height—which wasn’t that tall—but the sparking of blue flames around her fingers alarmed me. Something told me that those weren’t just tricks to amuse customers. “I warned you, child.”

In a in for a penny, in for a pound. “What are you going to do, wiggle your fingers and start hexing me?” I sneered.

It turns out that that was exactly what she was going to do.

She waggled her fingers alright, and I doubled over as a wash of heat washed through me. I felt like I was a thousand degrees...and then suddenly, zero. Ice cold and raging heat alternates through me in currents that almost sent me swooning. Finally it stopped, but the real magic had just begun.

I watched aghast as the gypsy’s magic began to work. My breasts started to grow, going from my almost non-existent A’s to little B’s, then heading up the alphabet from C to firm double D’s. I had always secretly wanted bigger breasts...all my training and my textbooks told me that it was probably just a creation of the media, that there was no such thing as a perfect body, that I was great just the way I was. But jealous rose in my too-small chest whenever I saw a better endowed woman get stares just by walking past men. What would it be like, I always wondered, to boobs that commanded attention? That reduced men to thralls in their wake?

Well, now it seems that I was getting them. I touched a finger experimentally to my now-enhanced chest, feeling the skin give at my gentle touch. Yup, real. Not an inch of silicone. I really did have bigger breasts now. I shot Madame Vera a questioning glance but all she did was wave another finger. I yelped as a sudden heat blossomed within me, starting at my midriff and shifting down to my sides.

I had always been on the trim side, with only a little stomach fat that refused to go away however many reps I did. But now my stomach slimmed down to a flat washboard, and all that extra fat moved to my hips, which began to curve out slightly. My waist cinched in at the same time, giving me a classic hourglass shape that was sure to be the envy of many a model.

What was going on here? This contravened all laws of physics! But the laws of physics didn’t seem to mind when my ass started expanding as well. I couldn’t see my behind without a mirror, of course, but the same heat that had remodeled my upper half now moved on my lower. I felt my behind expand and shudder into a firm bubblebutt.

Madame Vera wasn’t done, not by a long shot. My skin was the next to change, turning from my normal white to a dark chocolate brown. It was really quite beautiful actually, a deep shade not unlike that of coffee. My lips were the next to burn, and they shaped themselves into plump pillows just the right size to suck a man’s cock.

It was almost over, but not quite. The finishing touch was my hair. Formerly a mousy brown, it became a midnight black waterfall which tumbled down from over my shoulders to cascade between the twin peaks of my breasts. I gasped and staggered backwards as the spell finished its work, catching my reflection in a stray mirror that the gypsy had so thoughtfully provided.

The voluptuous stranger that stared back at me looked like nothing like I thought I was. I looked like a stripper. No, I looked like an exotic porn star. Even my eyes had been reshaped into the slanted, slightly almond shaped orbs that the gypsies around the camp had, and my eyelashes were now twice as long, curving down in soft arcs. I had soft curves everywhere, guaranteed to drive men crazy—from shapely hips to surging breasts.

This couldn’t be happening. But it was. I touched a finger experimentally to my flesh and felt its soft give. This was all real. Magic was real. What a paper I would have to write on this one...

“Do you like what you see?”

I whirled to face the architect of all of this. Madame Vera was standing and smirking at me, a grin fit to split her weathered face. I didn’t see anything funny in the situation though.

“What have you done to me?” I snarled.

“You felt the need to disrespect my people. Now you are one of them.”

I was? I guessed that the dark skin DID make me at least LOOK like a gypsy...what kind of sick and twisted game was she playing? I was about to ask when the gypsy waggled another finger. I started forwards, but it was too late.

A wave of pure lust surged through me. I fell to my knees, my hands going to my privates in need. Oh my God I was horny. So horny! Another of the gypsy’s spells, no doubt, but I had no time to contemplate what it was as I shamelessly diddled myself in front of the witch. This was as far removed from normal sexual desire as a snowball was from a blizzard...I had to fuck now! I moaned as my thighs and legs shook in helpless desire, my big breasts jouncing along with them. Madame Vera continued speaking normally as if women masturbated in front of them all the time.

“Each of the tribe must contribute to its wellbeing, and I have an idea of how you might do so. But for now I believe my son has waited long enough.” So saying, she parted the curtain to reveal a grinning Romar. I would have shot him a venomous glance had I not been so occupied with the heat between my legs. He planned this! I was sure of it! But right now all I could think of was the delicious man-meat between his legs.

I crawled over (have some decency, Theresa...but I had none to find) and unzipped his pants in a flash, then took his erect cock into my hungry mouth. For some reason (more gypsy magic, no doubt) the act of sucking it seemed to actually give me a small but steadily growing sense of pleasure...it felt good, so good to be servicing my lover in this way. Romar placed two hands on my head, helping me fellate him. My new lips fastened around his rigid shaft, and I sucked and sucked and sucked until with a groan he emptied himself down my throat. I sat back heavily when the deed was done, feeling fulfilled. I had never really liked giving blowjobs before, but for some reason after this one I felt the same as when I got an A on a test...a sensation of utmost satisfaction and calm.

I wanted to do it again. I wanted to do it ten more times, in fact. I looked up at my boyfriend, watching hungrily as he stripped off his shirt to reveal his muscled chest. My hands snaked down to between my legs again...I couldnÅft resist. Romar was so handsome, so rugged, so, so...male. He grabbed me and I swooned slightly—one kiss and I was melting into his arms.

No one for much foreplay, he flung me down on the nearest bed and began to run his hands over my enhanced body. I was practically panting with desire, but he had to make me beg for it. He already knew how to get me off pretty easily, but my new curves just made it that much easier...he barely had touched breasts and pussy before I was whimpering with need. After sucking an engorged nipple or two, he then diddled me fiercely with a long finger, until I was mewling in passion, scratching at his back futilely.

I looked him straight in the eye and saw that whimsical gypsy grin. The message was clear—he wasn’t going anywhere until I said. I gritted my teeth and spat out the words.

“Alright. You win. Fuck me! Just fuck me now!”

Sporting the same grin as his grandmother, Romar happily obliged. Within seconds his long, hard length was in me, pounding away like a sledgehammer. It didn’t take me long to cum like a firehose. My new body seemed ten times more sensitive, and I orgasmed again and again as my gypsy lover fucked me good and proper.

Missionary was just the beginning. Next he had me go down on all fours and we went at it doggy style. My new tits swung freely from my frame as we rocked in tandem, and Romar shifted his grip from my waist to cup them in his hands, rolling his fingers around my nipples as he slammed into me from behind. While I moaned at the double stimulation, he bent down to bite my neck gently, making me cum right there and then. These gypsies really knew how to fuck!

They had stamina too. Right after that was sideways. He raised my left leg, locking it above his head and granting him full access to my body, and I complied eagerly. I felt so passive, so complaint, so, so...female. This was the way of it, how I should be. A good gypsy submitting to her rightful lover. I had no idea where these thoughts had come from, but the feeling of Romar’s hard length thrusting within me soon gave me other things to think about. After that was missionary again, and then Romar spread my legs wide open and flung them over his shoulders, rendering me into a position of complete openness with which I crested hard again about a couple more times.

After about five rounds, I lay panting on the bed. Somehow I hadnÅft had enough. My pussy had been well and truly fucked (semen was still leaking out of it...) but it was wet enough to want more. Gypsy magic? Probably. But all I knew was that I had a craving for cock worse than any junkie. I moaned and rolled about on the bed, searching for my boyfriend...who was nowhere to be found.

A sudden shaft of light hitting my eyes caused me to squint, and I sat up. The door of the caravan had opened wide and about six or seven men filed in—each with a grin of their faces which echoed Romar and his mother. One by one they shucked off their shirts and approached me, their intent clear.

Oh right. I forgot. The gypsies of this region shared their wives with each other. Apparently girlfriend equated to wife in their tribe. Well, I wasn’t exactly complaining...I had an itch that needed to be scratched and soon.

Any ambivalence on my part soon turned to arousal as I saw the cocks of the men surrounding me harden. Each of them was at least seven or eight inches...they sure grew them different up north! My just-fucked slit began to moisten again, and quick as a flash I seized the nearest penis and began to suck on it. Lost in my oral ministrations, I didn’t notice another man coming up behind me and unceremoniously slipping his hard dick into my wet pussy.

Within seconds we had a real orgy on our hands. Thankfully the bed was big enough that it could fit all the men if we were careful and I used every inch of my body. I took an erect penis in each hand, another one in my vagina, and yet another one in my mouth...yes, my ass was still empty but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go there yet.

Man after man deposited their creamy loads in my greedy snatch, and I just kept going. They came in my mouth, on my heavy tits, in my hands, and even on my stomach when all my other holes were filled. We switched positions so they could take me doggy style—one in front and one in the back—and then we went to reverse cowgirl after that. I moaned and groaned and squealed in rapture until I succumbed to the onrushing waves of carnal pleasure and fell fast asleep.

* * *

Morning...or was it the afternoon? I sat up blearily, dragging a tired hand across my face. One look in the mirror confirmed my suspicious—nope, none of this was a dream. I had really been transformed into a dark-skinned gypsy fucktoy. More to the point, I had dried cum all over me. I needed a bath.

The door swung open again and Madame Vera walked in. I was about to say a few choice words to her but I decided to hold my tongue. She would probably just cast another spell at me if I did. From the look in her eyes as she looked at me, I guessed that she knew what was going through my mind as well.

“Did you enjoy yourself? No, don’t bother answering that. I know you did. I do good work, even if I do say so myself. Now, for your new name. From this day on you are Ceresa.”

Huh? Ceresa wasn’t my name. My name was Ceresa. I mean it was Ceresa. It was...Ceresa? The gypsy woman smiled at the expression of shock that ran across my face.

“Yes, Theresa is gone now. Now there is only Ceresa, the newest addition to our tribe. I do hope you will enjoy your stay here.”

No, this couldn’t be happening! I was...Ceresa! Ceresa! I seemed completely unable to think of myself using any other name. But it stood to reason that if Madame Vera could change my body, it was be child’s play for her to change my mind as well. I sat on the bed in stunned silence as the gypsy woman began to elaborate my new duties to the tribe.

Which were simple enough. Chief among them was providing relief to all male members of the tribe. They had too many men and too few women, which meant that someone had to pick up the slack and make sure all the menfolk were satisfied...and guess who that would be? Yours truly of course. It was obvious enough what my newly transformed body was made for...sex, and lots of it. Oh yes, there would be some helping with washing and cooking and suchlike, but most of my time here would be spent on my back.

So saying, Madame Vera left the caravan (my new home, I assumed) with another of her gypsy grins, leaving me to digest the reality of my situation. Thanks to my big mouth I had been transformed from a relatively normal sociology student to a gypsy slut with pornstar-sized tits and a ghetto booty. There didn’t seem any way out of my predicament, and to make matters worse...I started feeling horny again.

A knock on the door startled me out of my musings. It creaked open and a bearded gypsy strode in...one of Romar’s brothers, if I recalled correctly. He was big—bigger than my boyfriend, with thick muscles and a barrel chest that got me all warm and gooshy instead. My pulse quickened and pussy moistened. Hadn’t I had enough?

No. Not nearly enough. I answered his cheeky grin with a saucy smile of my own and beckoned him to the bed. This time we took it slow. I was already naked, so that part was taken care of, but there was still the fun of taking his clothes off one piece at a time until he stood before me in all his naked glory, thick cock standing proud and erect for me to service.

But there was where he surprised me. Instead of demanding that I suck him off (something I would have done with gusto) he instead knelt to lick each inch of my huge tits, then proceeded down my tummy to the space between my legs. I moaned and clutched at his head as his skilled tongue brought me to climax in quick order. Whoever this man was, he sure knew he was around a woman’s body! Even Romar had never licked me out!

The best was yet to come. After my first orgasm he laid me back gently on the bed and caressed each inch of my body with rough yet tender fingers. He was thorough—paying equal attention to my breasts, stomach, behind and even my neck and ears. I whimpered in passion at his ministrations, not sure whether it was my new body or his skill that was sending thundershocks through me...probably a little of both.

Finally, when I was practically begging in need, my pussy a wet marsh of desire, he entered me. He thrust slowly and gently, taking the time to lick my erect nipples as he pumped with calm determination. His slow and gentle lovemaking was a welcome change from the rough using I had had the night before...not that I was complaining about that, but it felt so good to be treated like a woman.

I sighed and cooed softly as he thrust into me with measured, deep strokes. As the minutes dragged on (boy did he have stamina!) the sensations from my slit mounted until I was almost delirious with pleasure. OH my god, oh my god...oh my GOD! I had read all those sex manuals, and banged quite a few men in my time, but nothing (even last night’s orgy) compared to this slow and deliberate use of my body. SO THIS is what sex was really meant to feel like. I guess I also had my new body to thank—it was exquisitely sensitive, equipped with lush curves that gave my lover plenty to hold and caress as we fucked.

I came again and again, caught in the grip of ecstasy, until with a grunt he painted my insides white. Basking in the afterglow of all lovemaking, I felt like I was floating on a cloud, free of all worries and worldly entanglements. I felt so warm and grateful from the orgasms I had had at the hands of his wonderful man that I eagerly complied with all the requests he had—the first of which was to titfuck him. He was so large that none of his previous lovers had been able to get their breasts around the entirety of his shaft—not a problem at all for the prodigious endowments I now sported. When he had recovered enough we did that, and I got a kick out of how I was able to lick the tip of his rigid penis as it popped out of the twin canyon of my huge boobs. And then finally when it was time for him to cum, he wanted me to look him straight in the eye as I sucked off him off...something I did with the utmost enthusiasm. It was nice having a communicative lover!

He was just the first of the many lovers I would take in my time at the camp. Not all were as gentle—some liked things rough, pulling my hair as they took me roughly from behind. Some wanted blowjobs, others had a preferred position, but my massive tits were always the center of attention, and I got more than my fair share of requests for titfucks. They took me in every way, size and shape possible. One even tied me to the bedpost before fucking me, and another one had such a penchant for pain that he requested I scratch him repeatedly during the deed—something that was more fun that I had ever anticipated.

So I was a gypsy fucktoy and loving every minute of it. Yeah, there was some cooking and washing to be done, but I was here to fuck and everyone knew it. So there was little for me to do but close my eyes and enjoy it...at least it was fun.

* * *

Or so I thought.

I awoke one morning, sweat-stained with cum dripping from all my holes—my current normal state—to see Romar smirking at the doorway to the caravan I now called home. I wiped my eyes blearily and blinked at him.

“What do you want? Sloppy seconds?” Romar had actually never evinced jealousy of any sort—he seemed perfectly content to let his friends, brothers and cousins bang his girlfriend on a regular basis. An interesting sociocultural perspective if I ever had time to go into it...wait, was I even his girlfriend anymore, or the camp bicycle? Or a weird mix of both? My textbooks had sure never prepared me for this...

“Madame Vera wants to see you in her tent.” That got me out of bed quickly. If I didn’t get there on time she was liable to hex me even more into something else. I didn’t want to find out, so I skedaddled to the gypsy’s caravan as fast as my long legs would take me.

The crone in question was laying out a tarot spread as I entered. Her gaze raked across mine and she smiled that grin I had come to know and hate so well. “So nice to see you again, Ceresa. I have new duties for you.”

Why wasn’t I surprised? But I simply stood politely at attention and resisted the impulse to roll my eyes.

“Our tribe needs more money. One of our caravans was damaged in a storm last summer, and repairs are expensive. You, Ceresa, shall help us, and I know just the job for you. Dancing.”

Dancing? My eyes bugged out despite myself. I had never danced in my entire life. What did Madame Vera think...

“Come now, child. You are not silly. Men will not come to see you dancing so much as they will come to see you without your clothes on. And after that, for a modest fee, you will... entertain them further.”

Ok, that sounded more like it. Ceresa the gypsy stripper would shake her fanny and chesticles and then get fucked afterwards. But so help me God the idea actually made me wet...as I’m sure Madame Vera knew.

“You will be using the green tent, and starting tonight. Marsa will instruct you on the basics of dancing. Go to it. Oh and yes, one more thing.”

A wrinkled finger stretched out and flicked itself towards me. What was it going to be this time? Making my tits bigger? Longer hair? Fatter ass?

It turned out to be something else entirely. A network of green vines blossomed on my midriff and thighs, snaking across every inch of bare skin to wind their way upwards to my shoulders and neck. Not real vines, but tattoos, intricate and vivid. Roses soon joined the emerald tendrils—white, blue and red, with a stray orange one here and there. When it was done I spent a few moments staring at myself in awe. These weren’t cheap tattoos...they were works of art. If I had them done elsewhere they would have cost thousands! I almost couldn’t take my eyes off my newly adorned body. I looked so, so...

“Beautiful, aren’t they? We have to give our customers something to look at. Now go.” I knew a dismissal when I heard one, and so I left the caravan to head to where I would get basic dancing instruction.

Marsa was a slim, leggy girl with a warm smile and a lithe grace who took me through the few moves I would need in the space of an afternoon. A simple spin, some legwork, a few turns and pirouettes here and there—pretty easy actually, made easier by the fact that people wouldn’t actually be looking at me, but rather my ample T and A. Ah well. Girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

Evening came, and after the warming up act of a few minstrels with lutes, it was time for me to take my place on the stage. Strangely enough I didn’t feel any stage fright. Marsa’s short practice had equipped me with enough self-confidence to go out there and shake it with the best of them, so when my turn came I just strode out and did my thang.

I had never pegged myself as the exhibitionist sort, but when the music started it was like something else took hold of me. It was just so fun dancing! I discovered that I liked being the center of attention, even if I knew that most of the men had their eyes on my tits instead of any of my moves. I sashayed and shimmied and swayed across the stage, bending low and giving my loyal fans an eyeful of my brazenly displayed cleavage. A halter top and thong left little to the imagination, which was of course why Madame Vera had insisted I wear them.

It gave me an odd feeling of power to be so ardently desired. I was a slave to my body’s urges, but here...here I was for at least a brief while a queen. While my subjects looked on, I twirled and spun and finally, greatly daring, I did a full-length split and was rewarded with a shower of applause.

And that was only the beginning act. Showing myself off so shamelessly only stoked the fires within something fierce, and I was dripping wet when I took my final bow. Which was just as well, because customers were lining up.

I could have cursed that old gypsy except for the fact that I was hot to trot, so horny I could hardly think or walk straight. I gave each of the men a sultry smile and then beckoned them to the tent that had been set aside for me.

And then I fucked. Oh, how I fucked. I took loads of cum in my mouth, in my pussy, and in my ass—and not inconsiderable amounts on my boobs too. I had a steady stream of customers waiting to tap my ass, and I couldn’t blame them—I was a hot little piece of tail and I knew it. I emerged from my tent a few hours later a wet, sweaty and smiling mess, my body thrumming with pleasure.

And who would be waiting for me outside my caravan but none other than Madame Vera. She grinned another of her gypsy grins when she saw me.

“Enjoying yourself, Ceresa? You did good work today. I am pleased.”

I couldn’t have cared less...but at least she wasn’t going to hex me again. I mumbled something noncommittal and went to take a well-deserved rest.

* * *

That was to be my new routine for a while. Dancing and fucking...not what I had envisioned when I signed up for college, but it was fun all the same.

I had lost track of how long it had actually been since I had been enspelled. A month? More? Less? When you spend each day with your legs in the air, it doesn’t exactly make for very good long term recall. And in the last week or so Romar had actually been around most evenings to exercise his conjugal rights...wait, we weren’t married. Or maybe we were in the gypsy way. I didn’t really know, but I missed his hard, muscled body on mine, and so that was enough for me.

It was a warm summer evening when Madame Vera saw us out for an evening stroll. She took one look at me and beamed like she had just won the lottery.

“The fates smile on us today! Soon we shall have more children for our tribe.”

What was this old bat on about? After that scare with my last boyfriend I had made sure I was on the most powerful birth control a poor college student could buy. It helped that I had access to health care courtesy of my school’s program. Mystic mumbo-jumbo was no match for modern science.

* * *

So as it turns out, I was wrong. Mystical mumbo-jumbo was a match for modern science and then some. I wasn’t just pregnant—I was expecting triplets.

The tribe was thrilled, Romar was ecstatic, Madame Vera was content, but as for me...I wasn’t so sure what to feel. I hadn’t signed up for this to get knocked up. Then again, I hadn’t signed up to be turned into a big-titted slut either, so that was that. But the reality was inescapable. My tummy was swelling, and I was helpless to do anything about it. Thanks to the gypsy curse I couldn’t get even a hundred yards of the campgrounds without feeling an irresistible urge to run back—which would inevitably result in Madame Vera smirking at me and putting me to dance once again. So escape was out. So was using a mobile phone to call for any help—no one at the camp even had one! It was all part of their back to nature schtick, I guess.

So I spent my days getting fucked, dancing, getting fucked, going to sleep, getting fucked, helping with the meals and getting fucked. Did I mention that I was getting fucked a lot? At least three times a day, possibly more when the customers got frisky. Romar always had first dibs of course (since I was technically his “wife”) but he shared me out with his brothers (and sisters) liberally. And of course there were all the people turned on by my dancing that I had to service.

As my belly grew, so did my libido. Whether it was just hormones or more gypsy magic (I knew better than to ask Madame Vera about anything about her spells) I found myself in an almost constant state of heat, to the delight of my “spouse” and almost anyone else at the camp. That wasn’t the only thing growing. My breasts enlarged as well as my midriff plumped out, going from the firm D cups that they were to E and then F. They stuck out like twin torpedoes from my chest, with chocolate saucer like areolae. My nipples had darkened along with my skin, turning a rich brown that called to mind dark coffee.

IT wasnÅft all bad. For instance, I couldnÅft complain about the quality of the food at the camp—those gypsies sure knew how to cook! I had free room and board, and the shows that they Put on were pretty good fun to watch. The dancing was fun...of course the customers didn’t really come to see me dance per se, but I enjoyed performing all the same. I would have Asked one of the other gypsies to teach me some real steps had I not been in the family way.

And yes, the sex was good. Really good, in fact. Whether it was my new body, the spell or a combination of the two, I had become much more sensitive all over, often coming like a rocket at the slightest stimulation. I had always been a rather plain looking girl, and a part of me delighted in just how sexy my new body was. Guys had but to take one look at my huge tits or plush behind and they would come running over with cash in the hands and a boner in their pants. I loved how in just a few wiggles and shakes I could have a man eating out of my hand in seconds...sure, they were technically the ones with power because they were the customers, but they had been so entranced by my voluptuous form that when it even so much as moved a little they fell under its spell. I enjoyed tempting them as much as I enjoyed relinquishing all my control...it was an interesting power dynamic that I would have explored more had I been not so occupied with having my brains fucked out.

After about three months in I had gotten so big that Madame Vera took me off dancing duties. Less customers, but the same amount of sex—this time I had to service the gypsies who were putting on the afternoon shows. Not that I hadn’t been already, of course. It was just more now. Between fuck sessions with nothing else much to do I spent some time conversing with the other gypsy ladies—who were surprisingly friendly. I was starting to rather like being here.

As the second trimester approached, Madame Vera called me to see her in her tent.

“Good, good. You are coming along fine. A nice gypsy you will make, yes, yes. Bear many children, you will.”

I had to roll my eyes a bit at that. Was she going all Yoda on me all of a sudden? But I just stood there and took it as the old crone walked over and prodded me expectantly with a bony finger. “Very healthy, you are. The children will be healthy too.”

It took me a little while to process that statement. Sure I had been preggers for six months now (with the attendant back pains and cravings...no morning sickness, thankfully!) but somehow the reality of it hadn’t completely sunk in. In my mind I was still Theresa Gibson, sociology major, and not Ceresa, gypsy slut...though the first was gone and the second had been around for a while now.

“I am glad you are enjoying your time in our camp. Aha, it is not use hiding!” said Madame Vera, shaking a finger at my expression. “I know you are having fun. I am not the only one who hears how loudly you scream every night.” I had the good shame to blush at that, but the old gypsy continued on as if she hadn’t seen me.

“I am done with you here, child. Make sure you take some of that green ointment. It is good for aches and pains. Come back when you are almost ready to deliver.”

* * *

The birth was much easier than I had thought. One moment my water broke, and then the next a dozen or so of my gypsy friends surrounded me with towels, rags and enough hot water to drown an elephant. There wasn’t much pain and not too much of that pushing I had heard so much about—it helped that I had hips you could drive a truck through. An hour later I was the proud mother of two baby boys and a girl.

Who were whisked away from me as soon as I gave them their first hug. Which was just as well—I didn’t know the first thing about raising children and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. To me, childbirth was just a consequence of all the sex I was having. I was happy they were going to well-deserving childless gypsy families, so I could go back to making more of them. Not that I wanted to...I was still under the effects of the curse.

I settled into a routine soon enough. We moved from state to state, and I continued popping babies out. After my third my breasts had swollen to the size of a G cup, and all the extra fat added to my frame soon gave me a firm booty and. With a wave of her hand Madame Vera ensured that her favorite gypsy sex slave didnÅft have too much up top or bottom. Who needs slimming centres when you can have gypsy matriaches?

She got me tattooed more as well. Flowers, unicorns, birds...Vera commemorated each pregnancy with another full sleeve. Every inch of my body had been covered with tattoos. I sure turned heads each time I walked into the dancing tent—it is not every day one saw a huge-titted dancer stenciled top to toe with fantastic beasts, let alone one that you could pay to have sex with after.

What with all the prancing around on stage that I did, I got halfway decent at this dancing thing as well. It was an issue of pride—I didn’t want anyone to think that I was just a pretty face with T and A. Well I was, but I set out to prove that I could actually dance as well. I hit up Marsa for a few proper lessons, and after a month I was whirling and twirling with the best of the camp.

Theresa Gibson would have been horrified, but Ceresa the gypsy slut reveled and thrilled in the power she had over men. They were her servants, completely under the spell of her bouncing tits and firm behind. And then in mere minutes the tables would be turned, and she would give up all that power to worship their veiny cocks and take them deep inside her. The slowly dissipating sociology major within wondering if it was some strange inversion of courtship and mating ritual...maybe both. Or neither. All I knew it was that it felt really good, and that was enough for me.

And when I got a bun in the oven again and couldnÅft dance, Madame Vera would make sure that the hidden booth at the back of the tents was set up so that whoever wanted to fuck a pregnant bitch could. I think they sold tickets up front? As long as I got a long, hard cock into myself, I wasnÅft complaining.

Before I knew it, it had been five whole years since I had first stepped foot into the camp. Time sure flies when you’re having fun. Or fucking every day. Or both.

And yes...the sex WAS mind-bendingly awesome. I had participated in threesomes, orgies, bukkake parties, the works. There was something to be said for being a hot chick in a camp full of skilled lovers—everyone wants you, but everyone fucks pretty good. Romar was a skilled lover, and I had sort of started a romance with his brother. And one of his sisters had started eyeing me every day. I had never ever dated a girl before...but there was a first time for everything. And wouldn’t women lick pussy better than men? As much of a reaming as my holes got, tongue work was at distressingly low ebb.

I hated to admit that I was sort of was enjoying it here. Not just for the sex, as amazing as it was. The food was good and the company decent—after five years in the camp, the gypsies and I had gotten to know each other pretty well. Here away from society, there was less backbiting and finger-pointing and more camaderie. At the campfire each evening we took to telling our own stories...I knew how little Marissa had grown up and run away to the big city, only to come back when she found that being a city slicker wasn’t all that cracked up as it was said to be. Hengrietta just had her third, and we swapped tips on childbirth. Maricas had discovered a new juggling routine and begged us all to watch. Simple people, good times.

Some of the gypsy wives even confided in me secretly that they were happy that I was here to take the edge of their husbands’ lusts. I blushed the first few times, but I took the generally took the comment as a compliment. Yes, I was a horny bitch—Madame Vera’s spell had made me one, and there was no denying that reality.

Speaking of which...after about ten kids my body was pretty different too. My breasts were now almost as big as my head, and my ass had gained so much extra weight that it shifted from side to side as I walked—which only served to attract the attention of even more men. I had put on more weight all around, but the curse made sure that it all went to the right places. The end result was that Ceresa just got curvier every day.

So besides the sex and company was the music and dance as well—I had grown to enjoy performing, and not just for the customers either. I liked the attention, sure, but I liked being part of the gypsy’s rituals as well. The beat of the drums and tinkling of the bells did something to me that I couldn’t quite describe. I would never have pegged myself as the musical type, but here I was enjoying it.

And there was the matter of not having to pay for anything. If you didn’t count all the fucking I did, which was essentially my work. I sort of missed my computer and phone, but maybe I was better off without them? There was something to be said for not having to check Facebook all the damn time.

Who would want to give this up? Even if I had a choice, which I didn’t. I was musing on all of this one day when the old gypsy summoned me to her tent. I went meekly.

The crone looked me over and gave me another of her leering grins. I had the good sense to just keep quiet this time.

“So, Ceresa. How are you?”

“I’m doing well, Madame Vera.” No talkback this time—I knew where that would end up.

“The men are pleased with you. The customers too. And you’ve even made friends with our womenfolk. Good work.”

“Thank you.” I wasn’t sure what she was angling for, so I thought honesty was the best policy in this instance.

The gypsy twirled a ringed finger in the air and cackled a little. “Don’t be so shy, girl. I am just checking on my favorite slut, making sure she is well appreciated by everyone.” Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “And do you like it here?”

“Yes, Madame Vera.” I was surprised at my response, but I realized it was true the moment the words left my mouth.

Another cackle, but joyful this time around. “I knew you would like here, child. You’re one of us now. We’ll be together for a while yet.”

She was right. I would be with the gypsies for a few years to come, upon which...but that’s a tale for another time. If you’ll forgive me, I have a dance to put on. And if you’re really lucky and stay close to the front row...there may be a surprise for you after the show.