The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

In the end we decided to just put that nasty business in Kymri behind us and head for the next book, which I could tell was somewhere to the northeast. We followed the trail for two rain-sodden weeks across Kymri, back into the northwest corner of Mercia for about half a day, and then across the northern border into Thumbria, the northernmost of the kingdoms on the main island.

“It’s definitely near here,” I told Iason as we approached the first village we’d come across in this new country. It didn’t look very different from all the other villages: low houses made mostly of wood and mud, streets made mostly of mud, air made mostly of rain. (The rain was also made mostly of mud.)

“Good,” he said. “I’d like to light a fire for once, and maybe clean my armor. I think it’s rusting!”

“Iason,” I said patiently. “Your armor is made of dragonscale. Dragons don’t rust!”

“I know that,” he said. “You know that. I’m sure the dragons know that. But does the rain know that?”

I conceded the point, and we entered the village.

The first thing I noticed was that it was quiet. Normally, any time you visit a village during the day, it’s noisy—the noises of people and animals doing their things, hammering from the bronzesmith, laughter from the inn, that kind of thing.

This village was quiet. Deathly quiet. “Keep your sword handy,” I whispered to Iason.

We walked slowly across the village, but even so it didn’t take long. There was a square in the middle, though it was really more of a blobby oblong, and facing that were an inn, a smithy, and a stable. Further out were more houses, huts really.

We cautiously entered the inn. It was empty except for the innkeeper, who brightened as soon as he saw us. “Do you have any food?” he asked.

“Uh…” Iason responded.

“We were kind of hoping you’d sell some to us?” I ventured.

He slumped back down, defeated. “Sorry,” he said. “Barely enough for ourselves.”

Oh, great, like I don’t have enough on my conscience already, now there’s a starving village? Just what I needed.

Iason gave the innkeeper some lamb jerky and he explained while he chewed: the village was starving. Some sort of blight had struck their crops that rotted away the roots, and so they had no bread. The local magistrates had banned them from trading for food with their neighbors in the fear of spreading the blight, and in desperation they’d eaten through most of their animals.

“But there is hope,” said a soft voice from the inn’s doorway. “Didn’t I tell you there would be, Erwan?”

The innkeeper shrugged. “None that I’ve seen, Gwenneg.”

The man in the doorway—Gwenneg, I guess—stepped forward. He had long, tangled blonde hair that sort of merged into an enormous beard, and wore dirty brown woolen robes that had probably been white once. There were twigs and leaves in his hair—possibly a crown or headdress, but it was equally possible they’d just fallen in without him noticing.

And he positively reeked of wild magic. It was difficult to imagine anyone who looked more like a typical back-country cultist.

“Hope, huh?” I asked.

“Oh yes,” said the cultist. “There is a rite which could restore fertility to these lands, we need only perform it!”

“Is that so?” I asked. “And how did you discover this rite?”

“I have been vouchsafed knowledge of many things by the glorious Master of the Woods, the Great God Rothek-Zarduk!”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “And does this Rothek-Zarduk happen to be sort of blobby, covered in eyes and mouths? Fangs? Does space stop making sense when it’s around?”

“People do tend to have their first sacred experience of the divine presence shortly after getting lost in the woods,” Gwenneg admitted.

“Yep,” I said.

“Tentacles?” asked Iason. “Legs like a centipede?”

“…It is possible that the Great God Rothek-Zarduk’s limbs are not entirely those customary for most gods, I suppose. Though I think it’s rather narrow-minded to reject a god simply because—”

“Yeah,” I said. “That ain’t a god.”

“Demon?” asked Iason.

“Probably not,” I said. “A demon is basically just a god in the other direction. But this thing’s putting out a lot of wild magic, to judge by our friend here, so it’s neither. Probably an Ancient.”

“…Not sure I’ve heard of those,” said Iason.

“Great Old Ones? Titans? Primordial God-Beasts? Creatures of the Outer Dark?”

“Oh, those!” said Iason. “I thought those were just a nasty kind of demon?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Demons and gods both come from humans. Ancients are… older.”

“Of course Rothek-Zarduk is older! Rothek-Zarduk is the Creator of All!”

Wonderful. A Great Old One with delusions of grandeur. Definitely not something I needed in my life.

“Well, good luck with that,” I said. “I’ve got business of my own. You wouldn’t happen to have seen any spellbooks lying around?”

“Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t,” Gwenneg replied.

I stood up, a fire spell already burning in my hand. “Don’t play games with me, cult-boy, or I’ll fry you so bad people’ll mistake you for an Old One yourself!”

Gwenneg raised his hands defensively and took a step back. “Okay, okay, I know where there’s a book like you’re talking about. The Great God said that it was an abomination and ordered me to bury it, so I did.”

I growled, “If you’ve damaged my book…” and raised my burning fist, ready to throw.

Gwenneg waved his hands. “No, no, I’m sure it’s fine! Anyway, if you kill me, I can’t tell you where it is!”

“True,” I said. “But I could make you wish you were dead.”

“I’ll tell you, I promise! Just please, help save our village first!”

I shook my head. “No way, I’m not letting you sacrifice me to some—”

“Not you!” Gwenneg replied, and pointed at Iason. “Him!”

“I’m not letting you sacrifice Iason either!”

Gwenneg shook his head. “No sacrifices! We just need a man from outside the village to join ritually with a local woman, to restore the blessing of the land.”

“Join ritually?” asked Iason.

“You know,” said Gwenneg. He waved his hands vaguely. “Join… ritually.”

I sighed. “He means fuck.”

Iason considered this for a moment.

“You can’t possibly be seriously thinking about doing this,” I said.

He shrugged. “I mean, to save the village—”

“To get you laid, you mean. They want you to perform a sex ritual for an ancient being of pure chaos!”

“Well, it’s just sex with a local girl, right? Where’s the harm in that?”

I facepalmed. Where’s the harm!? “Besides weirdass gross backwater diseases, you mean? You’re performing a ritual for an Ancient! It might turn you inside out or rip your soul out through your eyeballs or eat your sanity!”

“I assure you that no harm will come to you,” Gwenneg told Iason.

“No?” I countered. “What about the girl? Does she get pregnant with the hideous spawn of the Old Ones, which devours her from within and wears her skin as a disguise?”

“No harm will come to anyone,” Gwenneg insisted. “The ritual must be voluntary on both parts—several young women have volunteered, and you may have your pick,” he told Iason.

Grr. “Nothing involving Ancients is ever a good idea!” I told Iason in a calm and reasonable voice that didn’t at all involve shouting. At all.

“If you are so concerned,” said Gwenneg, “you may observe the ceremony to ensure your friend’s safety.”

Oh no. No way am I getting involved with weird Ancient cult stuff, that way lies madness, literally.

“I think we should do it,” Iason said quietly.

What.

“Listen, we did nothing to stop that guy in Kymri.”

“We couldn’t stop him!” I countered. “He got away!”

“Sure,” Iason said. “But here’s a chance to help this village, clear our consciences.”

I sighed. Stupid conscience. “All right,” I said. “But if I end up being devoured by an Ancient—”

“I’ll have been devoured first. I’m the one in the ritual, after all.”

“Point.” I turned to Gwenneg. “Okay,” I told him. “It’s a deal. But any funny business, and it’s off!”

“Wonderful! If you’ll come with me, I can introduce you to our volunteers.”

I’m not sure what I expected. I guess my imagination was stuck between your sacrificial virgin type—young, innocent-looking, slender, filmy white gown—or your hardcore slut, all curves and black eye makeup. Or maybe your aging, desperate virgin?

But the girls we met seemed… normal. A hint of wild magic to all of them, but it was residual, no doubt a result of whatever cult rituals they’d been involved in. None of them were witches or hideous monsters wearing human skin or anything, as far as I could tell.

Iason surprise me, too. I figured he’d go with the big-titted blond, but he went for a smallish brunette instead—blue eyes, freckles, hint of mischief in her grin. She almost seemed… likeable. “I’m Gwennwth,” she introduced herself. I raised an eyebrow at the name and spent some time looking back and forth between her and Gwenneg. Some resemblance, but not enough to be siblings, and he wasn’t old enough to have a daughter her age—about the same as mine, I think. Cousin, maybe?

Whatever. Point is, Iason made his choice. We discussed details with Gwenneg and Gwennwth, and went back to the inn to relax and prepare. The ritual would take place (of course) at midnight.

Late that night, we met Gwenneg outside the inn. He led us to an altar deep in the forest (of course). Gwennwth was already waiting for us there.

Wearing, surprise surprise, a filmy, diaphanous gown with a low neckline and long slits on both side of the skirt, exactly the outfit in which your typical maiden in distress finds herself chained to stone altars while she awaits devouring (or worse) at the hands of some fiendish monster.

Or, in this case, Iason.

“Does she really have to be chained down?” I asked.

“Not really,” said Gwenneg.

“Yes!” Gwennwth enthusiastically insisted at the exact same time. She grinned at Iason.

I see.

There was a long awkward pause. Well, awkward for everyone except Gwennwth, it seems. She was testing the strength of her chains and squirming happily.

After a while, I said, “Well, it’s almost midnight. What’s the, uh… procedure?”

“Um, Iason and Gwennwth, just…” Gwenneg flapped his hands vaguely. We got the picture. “The actual ritual is just a simple chant by me in the ancient language of the Gods Before Man, asking them to accept this offering of holy union, and instead of blessing it with new life, letting that blessing fall on our land and crops instead.”

“Uh-huh,” I nodded. “And at no point to you ask them to possess your body, or Iason’s, or Gwennwth’s? Or offer them tasty human flesh or souls?”

Gwenneg shook his head. “It is quite safe.”

“Okay,” I said. “I guess. But I’m watching you!”

Iason removed his armor and knelt above Gwennwth. His muscular body gleamed like bronze in the moonlight, and she cooed at the sight of his cock, half-hard and already impressive.

What? I had to watch for evil magic. It was purely profession observation.

He kissed her, and she strained eagerly against her bonds. Gwenneg began to chant, and the back of my neck prickled. Something was here.

Gwenneg’s chanting rose, becoming more primal, more insistant. It still sounded like he was gargling red-hot rocks, but it flowed through the little clearing around the altar. Above us, the stars reeled, becoming strange—closer, brighter, flaring with color, and much too many of them. The moon was wrong, too—too big, and was that a second, redder moon hanging in front of it?

Wild magic was surging all around us, and I raised up a defensive spell, an ice spell, all cold clear order. But the magic wasn’t actually hurting us, not yet, it was just everywhere.

Iason’s grunts and Gwennwth’s cries merged with Gwenneg’s chant. They twined around each other, getting faster and wilder. I bit my lip as energy surged in the clearing, a potent, intensely wrong force that started at my my feet and surged upward through my hips, up my spine, out the back of my head without touching my brain at all. It was electric. From toes to ears, the tips of my nipples to my suddenly intensely empty pussy, I was alive, I was feeling… I was wild.

I understood, in that moment, why people let themselves be seduced by wild magic. They did it because it was a seduction. Not the heady, cerebral power and control of high magic, but the feeling of riding a powerful beast that might turn on you at any second, of something immense and potent between your legs.

Gwenneg’s voice rose to a scream. So did Gwennwth and Iason’s as they came.

So did mine.

The next morning, we woke up in our room at the inn. I sat up in bed and stretched, memories of last night flooding in. It had been… intense, but happily now it was over.

“All right!” I said. “Get up, Iason, we’re going to get some breakfast, then head over to Gwenneg, find out where he left the book, and head on our way.”

“Um,” said Iason. “Maybe… maybe you should go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”

“You sure?” I asked. I concentrated a moment. There didn’t seem to be any magical residues on him that I could detect, other than the vague aura of wild magic that was stinking up the whole village, but that was probably Shrub-Sniggerbat or whatever it was called making with the blight-healing.

“Yeah…” said Iason.

I shrugged and headed to breakfast. Last night had probably been, well, tiring for the guy. Things had gotten pretty… athletic. He probably needed his rest.

After breakfast, I checked in on Iason, but he said he needed more rest. His voice sounded pretty strained, but I still didn’t sense any magic other than the wild magic that was everywhere.

I decided to go outside for a walk around the village. Normally I’d hate that, but today I felt… energized, almost bouncy. I just couldn’t sit still in the dingy little inn when there was a whole world out there, teeming with life and energy!

The village was way less quiet than it had been when we arrived. People were out and about, working, talking, laughing, smiling. There was a current in the air, a feeling of renewal, restoration. We’d done it, I realized—we’d brought hope to the village.

A village of crude, ugly barbarians that I couldn’t stand, right? But I didn’t feel any of that. I just felt glad.

And that was wrong! Something very strange was happening if—

“Hello, Lemma!” chirped Gwennwth. She rose from the goat she was milking and waved happily

“Oh, hello!” I said, as if greeting an old friend. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m wonderful!” said Gwennwth. “Say hi to Iason for me, okay!”

“Will do!” I told her happily.

Well, that was very nice, running into her. What was I thinking about? Eh, probably nothing important—it was hard for anything to feel important on a lovely day like today. It was warm, and the sun blazed a brilliant purple in a black sky full of gleaming, fat, jewel-colored stars.

A gentle breeze stirred the air, smelling of wood and sparkling streams. I reached the end of the path through the village, and kept going into the woods. The smell grew stronger, and a distant humming noise, felt more than seen, thrummed through the air, through the ground, through me.

The energy was rising. I felt wild, energized, and horny as hell. I started to run, tearing off my clothes as I went. The path twisted beneath my feet, and suddenly I was on the other side of the village, in the barren fields.

So was everyone else. Thirty people, maybe. Every woman in the village, some as young as me and Gwennwth, some a decade older, two, even a few twice that old.

And in the middle of the field was… Iason. Naked. Magnificent. He looked dazed, half-asleep, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the mouthwatering cock between his legs.

I fell to my knees. My mouth wasn’t the only thing that cock made wet.

I stared as Iason stepped toward me. Simultaneously, he stepped toward everyone else. Space was still wrong. It was definitely Iason, and there was definitely one of him. But he was also standing directly in front of every single kneeling woman, and if you looked at it just a little differently, it was obvious that that was because these were Iason-shaped intersections with our universe of a hideously amorphous, massive 9-dimensional creature covered in tentacles and eyes and gaping toothy maws, plus eyes on tentacles and tentacles with mouths on the end and eyes that were also mouths, somehow.

It hurt my head and turned my stomach, so I blinked, and like that picture of a vase that suddenly becomes two women, Iason was in front of me.

Specifically, that drool-worthy cock was stiff, straight, hard, and pointed directly at my face. I took the hint, and took the cock into my mouth.

It felt incredible. It was like a line of lightning connected my mouth directly to my pussy, like that incredible cock was filling every part of me. There just wasn’t any room for that cock and my mind. It was just blasted away by that first incredibly burst of pleasure.

More followed. Everything I did to his cock, I felt on my clit. Everything his cock did to my mouth, I felt in my pussy. There was no technique, no thought, I just gave the sloppiest, most eager blowjob of my life.

Then he came. Cum—incredible, unbelievably delicious, completely satisfying cum—filled my mouth, and I drank it down eagerly. But it kept coming and coming, more than I could swallow, spilling out of my mouth. I fell backwards, choking, but I didn’t care. The cum felt just as incredible spraying over my body—when had I gotten naked?—as it did in my mouth. I came at its touch, again and again, rolling and writhing in the field just like all the women, our voices raised in cries of ecstasy that merged and blended with the rising shriek of the Ancient, becoming a song of praise to Its horrifying majesty.

I collapsed, panting, in the field, and looked around. The sky was normal again—bright and blue with clouds here and there. The field was looking a little less barren, though it was a bit hard to tell because it was full of naked, moaning women and their discarded clothes. We were all, I noticed, clean—no trace of the bucketloads of chaos-sperm that had showered us.

By unspoken agreement, we all quietly got dressed and returned to the town as if nothing had happened.

But, of course, something had. I intended to have words with Gwenneg when I found him. And by words I mean screaming (his) and explosions (mine). Maybe some fire, I like fire.

…Though I was feeling a bit dizzy. Maybe I should go back to the inn and lie down a bit first. And get some water, I was parched. I guess a marathon transdimensional orgy can be a bit on the strenuous side.

When I got back to the inn, I was surprised to find Iason still in our room. “Are you sick?” I asked him.

“No,” he said. “Just, um, tired.” He sounded weirdly out of breath for someone just lying around all day, but I was too exhausted to care.

“Same here,” I said, and flopped into my bed.

Silence descended. I was sleepy, but couldn’t sleep—as the bliss faded, the horror of what had just happened grew. At the same time, it all seemed unreal, like a bad dream.

Also, something about this silence felt really awkward, even though Iason and I had been sleeping together (not like that!) for weeks.

Although… Maybe that was why it was so awkward—the fact that I’d just been… That I just—um. That my recent experience had involved a monster wearing Iason’s face. And, er, also the rest of him.

I felt my face growing hot. It’s a good thing the shutters were closed—in the dim light of the room, Iason probably wouldn’t be able to see me blushing.

Eventually, I fell asleep.

I woke up around midnight. I sat straight up in the darkness as everything that had happened the previous day struck me. I’d… I’d let myself be fucked by an Ancient! Not just let—I’d craved it. I’d needed it.

I needed it again.

I could feel the call, the pull, across every inch of my skin. The memory of that intense, overwhelming pleasure, of bathing in the cum of the beast that took Iason’s form, of cumming again and again while I writhed and worshiped. I wanted it again, wanted more, needed more!

Was being summoned for more…

But I was resolved not to do it. As I slipped out of bed and stood on the floor barefoot, I decided to investigate instead, figure out what this creature was doing, maybe find Gwenneg and force an explanation out of him.

I walked outside, down the little path to the forest. Yes, I would definitely teach that little weasel a lesson, demand he tell me why I was drawn so powerfully to this creature, what was happening to the women of this town.

Space warped and twisted around me. Once I had that explanation, I’d figure out what I needed to do to end this, and free the village women from whatever curse or dark spell the beast was working on them. I stepped out into the field on the other side of the village under a shining yellow sky, lit by twin suns, one fat and red and the other tiny and blue. Then I’d get my book and we’d be on our way to wherever the next one was.

I stripped and knelt before the not-Iason, just like all the other women in the field. Once again that magnificent cock was before my eyes. Had I been thinking about something? It wasn’t cock, so it must not have been important.

Then I wrapped my lips around the cock and stopped thinking entirely.

Wave after wave of mind-shattering, soul-stealing pleasure. That magnificent, powerful, beautiful cock. And cum, delicious, tingling, filling me up and spilling all over me.

I woke around ten in the morning and staggered groggily out into the inn. Iason was still in bed. I envied him—I was exhausted after last night’s escapade—but I had work to do.

Action Item Number One: Find Gwenneg.

Action Item Number Two: Beat him until he tells me everything I want to know.

Action Item Number Three: Beat him some more for the hell of it.

So. There was still a lingering aura of wild magic everywhere around the village, so I couldn’t use that to track Gwenneg. This was going to require other skills, the kind of cunning, intrepid investigation that made me a top candidate for the Enforcers: I asked the innkeeper where I was likely to find Gwenneg this time of day, and he told me to try the sickhouse, so I asked him where that was. Then I went there.

I found Gwenneg praying over an elderly man lying on a bed. There were two other men there, one even older, the other with what looked like a broken arm.

“What the hell was that ritual!?” I demanded of Gwenneg. He tried to shush me, so I grabbed the front of his tunic and shoved him into the wall. “What was that ritual!?”

“Please, this is a place of peace and rest for the ill!”

“The sooner you talk, the sooner they can go back to resting!” I noticed broken arm guy was sitting up and watching with interest. I think one of the old guys was, too, but it was hard to tell from where I was standing. The guy Gwenneg had been praying over, meanwhile, had fallen asleep.

“I told you everything I know! The ritual calls the great god forth to spread his blessings upon the land!”

“But how?” I demanded. I didn’t loosen my grip on Gwenneg one bit, and kept him shoved firmly against the wall. I may be small, but I’m tough, and anyway he wasn’t much bigger. “What does he actually do to the land?”

“I don’t know!” Gwenneg insisted. “Something divine? Some kind of supreme magic?”

Wait. Spread his blessings? “Oh fuck,” I said, “it’s literal! He’s literally spreading his blessings on the land, it’s his cum!” I remembered the vast quantities of cum, dripping into the dirt, mixed into the soil by the writhing of a village-full of women—and I remembered that the fields had looked a little healthier when we were done.

I kissed Gwenneg, hard. I melted against him, soft but insistent, forcing him against the wall with my entire body instead of just my hands. He froze, for a moment, then started to respond.

I broke the kiss, tried to pull away, but my body seemed to have a mind of its own, clinging to him, rubbing against him. “No!” It was happening again. I was so horny, so hot, so hungry, needed to be filled, needed cum. Gwenneg’s erection was hard and warm against my thigh—but no. That wasn’t the cock I wanted, needed. He didn’t have the cum I craved, the wonderful, divine cum.

I left the sickhouse and walked toward the wood. As I did, I could see every woman in the village doing the same.

You can do this, I told myself. Concentrate! Focus on what you’re doing, where you’re going. You canNOT RESIST—

Dammit! Hragulf’s rules pounded in my head. I couldn’t fight the pull toward the woods, even if I wanted to, and as I kept getting hornier with every step, it was getting very hard to want to.

Things were getting weirder. The woods warped and twisted around us, a strange whispering echoed in the trees, and the path squelched unpleasantly as we walked. When we reached the field, it was like a vast bowl, curving up all around us, forming a perfect sphere with the dome of the sky above.

The titanic, monstrous beast that was also dozens of Iasons and also one Iason stood before us, each of us, individually, all at once. I sank to my knees, and he was behind me, all around me. Was I wrapped in tentacles, filling every part of me? Or was Iason taking me from behind while I sucked another Iason’s cock and jacked off two more Iasons, one in each hand?

It didn’t matter. Vaguely, I hoped that contraception spells worked on Ancients’ sperm, or I might be in trouble. Then I was being filled with cum, covered with cum, drowning in oceans of cum, and where each drop touched me, inside or out, I had an orgasm.

Have you ever felt your hair cum?

The more powerful they are, the more rules they can break.

And I was breaking. It just felt too good, I was starting to look forward to being used by this creature—and it was clearly using us, it was getting stronger every time, projecting more Iasons, creating more of its cum, twisting space more. It was better every time, and if I didn’t stop soon, I might get addicted.

Shit. I had to get out of this town!

I raced back to the inn, exhaustion pulling at me, but that at least I could fight. “Iason!” I called out as I entered our room, but he was still lying there. “Seriously, have you gotten up at all in the last three days? Get up!”

He groaned. “I can’t…”

“You have to! We’re getting out of here, now!”

He sat up and looked at me with concern. “What did you do?”

Excuse me, that’s the first thing you go to? It isn’t my fault! …This time, anyway. “Nothing!” I snapped. “It’s that stupid Elder God. We have to get out of here before he eats the whole damn town.”

“Run away? We should stand and fight!”

Hmm, for somebody who’s been in bed for days, he seems perfectly healthy to me. “I told you! I told you from the start, you don’t mess with the Old Ones! We can’t fight it!”

Iason slowly got out of bed, holding the sheet to himself.

“Iason,” I said sternly. “What’s going on? Why have you been hiding in bed?”

He blushed. “Promise not to laugh?”

“Promise,” I said.

He told me.

I laughed.

Iason blushed harder. “You promised you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I know!” I said. “I’m sorry! But, seriously, you can’t get up because you’ve got wood!?”

“It’s actually really uncomfortable!” he complained. “The first day I thought it was just morning wood, nothing special, just needed a minute to go down. But it didn’t! Nothing I do makes it go down! And, y’know… I can’t exactly go out like this!”

“Well, you’re gonna have to,” I told him. “Because we’re getting the hell out of this town. Get up and come on!”

I led the way out of the town. Taking the path into the woods was obviously out of the question, and the fields were nearly as bad, so I chose a path that would take us over the heath and up into the hills.

At least, that’s what it was supposed to do. Somehow, before we reached the hills, we got turned around and ended walking into town along the path from the fields. We tried again; same thing happened.

“Okay,” I said. “Be like that! We’ll go the other way!” We tried the opposite direction, even though it led basically nowhere. But the same thing happened: we ended up on the path into town.

Argh! I was about ready to tear my hair out in frustration. The only explanation was that space was twisty all around the town, not just in the woods. Rothek-Zarduk was probably dragging it into a dimensional pocket, like the village was a tiny universe on its own. From there he would doubtless drag it all the way into his own realm, and be able to manifest physically in his own form. At that point, of course, we’d all go insane, dissolve, and die, though the order in which those would happen was up for grabs.

We had no choice. We had to fight. But how? We went back to the inn to figure it out.

“Well,” said Iason, “what about our usual Plan A?”

“Set it on fire? I’m not sure it’s real enough to burn, and by the time it is, it’ll be too late.” Not to mention every time it actually shows up, I start sucking its cock. Hard to throw fireballs when you’re on your knees having chain orgasms.

“Okay then, what about my sword? This thing’s all magical, that should hurt it, right?”

“Same problem,” I said. “Hard to hit something that’s not real.” I thought about it. “Although…”

Iason grinned. “I knew you’d find an although eventually.”

“Well…” I said slowly, drawing out the “l” while I thought. “It got its grip on this village through a magical ritual, right? Which means it has to have some kind of magic connecting it to this village, and that connection needs an anchor—like a knot on the end of a rope.”

“So we’re looking for a magical knot?” Iason asked.

Ugh! “Don’t be so literal! It’s just an anchor spell.” I thought about it a minute longer. “Though actually, it’s wild magic, so it probably will look like a big tangle. A knot isn’t too far off, I guess.”

“So can you find it?”

“I can try.”

“And then once you do,” Iason said, “what then?”

“Then,” I said, “you slice it apart with your sword, Rothek-Zarduk loses its grip, and this village snaps back to the real world.”

Iason nodded. “Sounds good.”

I closed my eyes to concentrate. There was wild magic all around, of course, but I just had to follow it to where it was at its densest, its most tangled. And that actually seemed to be close by! Very close, actually.

Uh-oh.

I opened my eyes. “I have good news and bad news,” I said.

“What is it?”

“The good news is, I found the anchor. As for the bad news…” I hesitated, but decided to just dive right in. “How do you feel about stabbing yourself in the dick?”

Iason looked slowly down, then just as slowly back up at me. “My..?”

“Makes sense when you think about it. That’s, uh, where the ritual took place.”

“… and it’s the only way to save the village?”

“We have to cut the knot,” I said. “Before Rothek-Zarduk drags us all into its world.”

Iason nodded quietly, then drew his sword. He took a deep breath.

“Hey! What are you doing!?”

He stopped and stared at me, the tip of his sword pointed at his crotch. “But you said—”

Gah, I was kidding! “We can get it out!” I said. “I think. Pull it out of you and then you can stab it!”

“How do we do that?” Iason asked.

I paused. He’d been ready to chop his own dick off to save this village! He’d probably have died, and even if he hadn’t, he would be chopping his own dick off. Compared to that, was the sacrifice I was going to have to make really that bad?

Yes, because it was me making it! But… well, it had to be done. Probably. Better check that first. “Iason,” I said, picking my words with care. “Um, you tried the… obvious solution to your problem, right?”

He blushed. “Yes… it didn’t work. Made it worse, actually.”

Right. So it’s basically taken over his penis. That means…

I sighed. “Iason, I really, really don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I need your cock.”

He was silent for a while.

“Iason?”

“I’m trying to figure out what the right way to take that is.”

I rolled my eyes. “Look, get back in bed and take out your cock. I’m going to… pull the anchor out.”

He awkwardly backed up into the bed, then lay down and took it out. It pointed straight up at the ceiling, quivering slightly. I sat awkwardly on the bed and he flinched a little.

“So… how does this work?” he asked. “You cast a spell, or..?

I shook my head. “No, I’m going to have to, um… touch it. Sort of, um, massage the knot out.”

“Massage.”

“Yeah.”

He gulped.

Slowly a reached for his cock, but right before I reached it, I jerked my hand back. “Close your eyes,” I said.

“What?”

It was my turn to blush. “I can’t do it if… I don’t want you watching me! Just… just close your eyes and pretend it’s someone else.”

“Well, okay…”

I touched his cock. It was like any other, really; I was getting to be an expert on them, to be honest. Smooth, warm, dry. I ran my fingers over and around it, and Iason groaned.

“Don’t do that!” I snapped. “I’m trying to pretend you’re not here.”

“Sorry.”

“And don’t talk!”

Yes, I could feel the magic inside. I let some of it attach to my finger, and then stroked slowly to the tip. It was left behind, but yes, a little bit of the tangled little mess of magic inside his dick was higher now.

That was the key. Don’t think of it as stroking Iason’s cock. Think of it as pulling the magic along bit by bit, pulling out the clog.

Gods, what a beautiful cock... Oh no. No no no. Not now. Not now!

But I could feel it. Memories of my time in the field were flooding my brain. I don’t know if it was coincidence or Rothek-Zarduk trying to stop me from destroying its anchor. I suppose it doesn’t matter.

What did matter was that I was getting hornier by the second, and an almost magnetic force was tugging on me to get up and go walk into the woods.

And thanks to that cosmic asshole Hragulf… I couldn’t resist the call.

I had to go. Had to find that magnificent cock, let it fill every part of me, bathe in its cum. And that would be it, I realized. This space was falling more and more under Rothek-Zarduk’s control, and soon it might not even need the anchor.

But there was no choice, no possibility of resistance. I had to go to that cock.

I looked down. That cock. Iason’s cock, it had been Iason’s cock from the start, as Rothek-Zarduk borrowed a form that could exist in our reality. Which meant…

Which meant I already had it in my hand. The only change was that instead of trying to tease out the tangled little knot of wild magic trapped inside, I was trying to get him to cum while teasing out the tangled little knot of wild magic trapped inside.

Iason must have felt the change. “Lemma?” he started to ask, but I cut him off.

“Shh. Stay quiet and keep your eyes closed.” I couldn’t risk thinking about him as a person, because then the compulsion might drag me away to the field and Rothek-Zarduk. Had to think of him as just a cock, warm and throbbing with life in my hand, full of delicious, amazing, magical cum…

Without even thinking about it, I leaned over and took his bulb in my mouth, while my hand pumped up and down his shaft. He groaned, and I grinned. I’d be getting that cum soon!

I kept sucking and stroking while I struggled out of my clothes. Had to be naked, had to be filled, had to get cum all over every inch of my skin. Except I couldn’t, could I? It was blocked by the magic, and I needed that cum. The only solution was to pull the magic out.

So I did. While I stroked and licked and sucked, I slowly pulled at that tangle of magic, thread by thread, pulling and squishing and shaping until, at last, I could yank it out.

I fell backwards, my mouth leaving his cock with an audible pop. Iason groaned, long, deep, and satisfied-sounding, and came all over me.

I sighed. Ordinary cum. None of that magical tingle, that intense orgasm followed by languid bliss. Just a sticky, rapidly cooling mess. I stood and walked toward the door, in search of the cum I needed, while behind me a knot of wild magic rose slowly like a tiny black stormcloud, crackling with energy.

I heard movement on the bed, but it was irrelevant; I had to go to the field.

Then Iason’s sword went whistling through the air and struck the stormcloud. There was a clap like thunder, and the entire room—maybe the entire village—shook. I collapsed to the floor like a puppet with her strings cut.

Iason and I stood looking over the field. It was looking better already, nice healthy plants with no trace of the blight. I think. I don’t know, do I look like a farmer?

Anyway the villagers seemed happy enough about it. After the little quake, we went looking for Gwenneg, and he handed over the book—Storm Spells and Calming Charms, a book of weather magic—without me needing to set him on fire at all.

I mean, I still did, but only a little. I’m sure his beard will grow back. Most of it, anyway.

After that, well, there wasn’t any point or need to staying, was there?

“We going to talk about what happened back there?” asked Iason as we walked across the field toward the next book.

“Nope,” I said. “Never. At all. Even a little. Not unless you want to find out what getting your dick chopped off feels like after all.”

“Ah,” said Iason. “Okay then.”

We walked for a while in silence. Then he said, “So is that what we’re calling it now, or…”

I froze, rage and horror momentarily balancing perfectly to leave me paralyzed.

Iason stopped a moment after I did, turned, and grinned. Why that..!

He laughed as I chased him across the field, lesser fireballs splashing harmlessly off his armor.