De-Witcher Part 3

[Muscle Growth, Cock Theft, some Animal TF]

Part 1 Here 

Part 2 Here 

The address in the folder led us to a pretty seedy dead-end sidestreet downtown. At the end, beneath a rusted out fire escape, was a dark little door. I knocked and a small panel slid aside. “Palumbo,” I said, grateful that Trey had included the password to this place in his research. The panel slid shut and the door opened a crack. I slipped in, grabbing Corey by the hand and pulling him with me. The big stud seemed happy to accompany me on this little venture.

The security guys were all dark, swarthy giants, each of them easily the size of two Coreys smashed into one. They stared down their stern faces at us as I tried to act like I knew what I was doing. I headed down a hallway, pulled aside a curtain and stepped into a huge room lit only by blacklights. There was a bar off to one side, a large dais in the center, and a single pole rising out of the center of the dais.

“You didn’t tell me we were going to a strip club,” Corey whispered to me as we entered. I hadn’t known where we were going, but I didn’t let him know that.

I took a seat at the bar and ordered a vodka on the rocks. Corey ordered a red bull and vodka. “Do you compete?” he shouted to the bartender over the thumping bass making my teeth chatter. The man serving us drinks was as powerfully built as the security at the door, but he had a blonde mohawk, impeccable cheekbones and a jaw you could sharpen a knife on.

I scanned the room. It was eleven in the morning but there were forty men in the room huddled around the stage waiting for the next performer. A pile of muscle strutted out of the swinging doors behind the stage and hit some poses for the cheering crowd. He had dark sunglasses and a beard, his torso strapped in leather. His ass looked like two big melons in his tight leather pants. He did an impressive handstand--it was amazing to see all that mass suddenly inverted--and did vertical pushups to the delight of the crowd. Despite all his mass, he looked to have absolutely nothing in the “bulge” department. Usually, big guys’ cocks look smaller in comparison to all of their big bulging muscles but this guy’s pants had a nearly flattened front that almost made him look like he was Ken-doll-smooth underneath.

“Hell yeah!” Corey cheered as he sipped his drink and applauded. “Shit, I wish I’d brought some cash. I could use a nice little striptease.” One of his hands slid up his polo shirt and started playing with his nipple. Next to him, a tubby man shifted his gaze from the beast on stage to the pretty bodybuilder feeling himself up.

Corey looked even bigger than he had when we walked in. His shirt was starting to split up the sides and his jeans looked panted on. He was half a sneeze away from being naked, I theorized.

Of course, I suddenly realized: when I had lifted the curse on him I’d just shifted him from inanimate dildo to animate man. Genie curses were powerful and intricate and this one was still active. I’d thwarted the literal interpretation of the wish--Corey was no longer literally a sex toy--but he was still under the spell of being the sexual fantasy of whomever he was near. I should have noticed when he had been so eager to ride me the moment he met me. I wasn’t ugly by any stretch, but Corey was now a card-carrying pro-bodybuilder with an all-American dreamboat face. When guys like him were itching to get with a guy like me, my usual instinct was that there was magic at play.

(I had asked him, as we showered together after sex, why a guy like him would have ever wished to be a “sex toy” in the first place. He told me his last partner had told me he was a bad lay. I imagined that a guy as good-looking as he was never really had to perform well in the sack, but it had come as a blow to his ego when he realized he wasn’t the stallion he believed he was. Poor guy probably just wanted a nicer technique, but now he was starting to inflate with muscle to satisfy the horny muscle worshippers in this underground club.)

The next stripper to take the stage, the scratchy-voiced announcer said, was named Gideon. He was the guy Trey had been researching before someone added 60 years to his age. The photo in the folder was of an unassuming redhead, maybe a hundred and fifty pounds if he’d just had a big meal. The beast that strutted out on stage looked like a bloated tick of waterlogged muscle. I couldn’t believe how puffy the guy was, every glistening bulge distended out obscenely without a bit of vascularity to be seen. His head was shaved completely bald and his upper body was covered in intricate tattoos, none of which matched the information Trey had in his file.

“How much would you say that guy weighs?” I asked Corey, whose eyes lit up at the massive monster.

“At least 300!” he said. “Jesus, he looks like he eats a handful of Dbols for breakfast and washes it down with a glass of Tren!”

I could see that Corey was half-hard, his overpacked bulge stretching the waistband of his pants so far I could have easily tucked a beercan in there. In contrast to Corey’s enlarging meat, this guy Gideon, who could barely move he was so musclebloated, had absolutely nothing downstairs. His tiny leather shorts seemed designed to show off the fact that there was nothing inside while, on the other side, showcasing the massive girth of an ass I wanted to ride down whitewater rapids atop. Clearly this bar had pretty specific requirements for its dancers, while satisfying a very specific clientele’s very niche kink.

“Excuse me,” I said to the bartender, tracing a series of sigils below the bar. “Who’s in charge of this place?”

The bartender raised his eyebrow. “Who’s asking?” he snapped, suspicious of the question.

I sighed. I kept forgetting my powers were bound. Had my spell worked, a truth hex would have had him telling me everything I wanted to know. How the hell Trey do all this detective shit?

From Trey’s file, I had learned that this “Gideon” was actually a young guy named Matt Workman. He was a gay guy who interned at an accounting firm downtown. One day he called into work sick and never showed up again. Somehow Trey had tracked him down to this spot.

Back at my workshop I had some Dust of Acquiescence I could use to get to whoever was in charge. I also had an Ethereal Cloak I could swing over my shoulders to walk through walls. I wasn’t normally in the business of using cursed artifacts to get my way, but without my powers I didn’t have many ideas left. Security in this place was hefty, and mortal men with mortal powers don’t often get their own way when the odds were this stacked against them.

I snapped out of my brainstorming when I heard the crowd erupt into cheers. Corey wasn’t next to me anymore; he was onstage, naked, and dancing with Gideon. As he rubbed his huge dick against Gideon’s leather-covered ass, the sloppy muscle mound flexed and writhed against him. Despite the crowd’s admiration for the scene, security descended on them quickly. Again, I started chanting and tracing a sigil to protect the big sexy bodybuilder I had dragged into this, but again I had to remember that I was powerless. The security guards grabbed Corey and dragged him back through the swinging double doors.

The exit was behind us, the opposite direction of where they had brought him. I looked around, watching the crowd shower the stage in money, and got a spot closer to the stage. Gideon, alone, was starting to get mobbed by men who had been driven into a frenzy by the sexy scene they had just witnessed. I waited for the right moment and slipped through the double doors.

I expected something akin to a “dressing room” behind the doors but it was just another series of darkened hallways and more doors than I cared to bother with. Had my powers been active I could have simply conjured a homing sprite to point out where my big sidekick had gone. Instead, I stuck to the shadows, closed my eyes, and listened.

Corey’s loud, deep voice was the only sound back here. I could hear the crowd cheering behind me. I headed toward Corey’s voice, keeping my head low, peering around corners. The door to the room Corey was in was slightly ajar, and I heard him talking inside.

“Look, I was just really excited by the show!” I heard Corey say. “I’m sorry if I broke rules or something!”

“Ahh, yess…” said another voice. Was it a security guard or the guy in charge? “I saw you on the camera and I wanted to offer you a job here. You seem… perfectly suited for my business and yet, there is still one glaring problem.”

“What problem?” I heard Corey ask. “I mean, I’ll dance for you all out there… I’ll even dance for you in here! You like bouncing pecs? Lemme bounce my pecs. I just… I don’t really… want to work here…”

I peered into the room. A man with a wispy white beard, his hair pulled back in a silver ponytail, was approaching Corey, who was held in place by three of the security guards. Corey looked to be about half the size he was on stage, and with every second he got a little smaller. Of course! The security guards weren’t into big muscle dudes. Corey was shrinking into the perfect twink body to satisfy their appetites.

The white-haired man looked to be in his early twenties (despite his troubling hair and beard choices) but he had the energy of someone much, much older. The room he was in had so many taxidermied animals and tribal statues strewn about that I wondered if he had hired a decorator for supervillains. Corey struggled (with less strength each second that passed) as the eerie man approached him. He had slid on two gloves, one white, one black, and hung a reflective triangle hung around his neck.

I knew this. I knew that artifact. From back in my apprentice days. What the hell was it again?

“I could have sworn you were bigger,” the eerie man said as he examined Corey, who was now about the same size as he was. “Camera adds… a couple hundred pounds, I guess. No matter. In a moment, you’ll be as big as I want you to be.” He reached toward Corey, who tried to jerk away. His two gloved hands reached for Corey’s cock.

Then it hit me. Ba-Hemod’s Trine. I had never seen it in person, only read about it, but the gloves and amulet gave the user the power to reshape flesh. It required a sacrifice of self to trigger. I could run in, grab the amulet from his neck to disrupt the transmutation, but if Corey was in the middle of the change, it could leave him looking disfigured. I could cause a distraction, maybe get the creep away from Corey in time to disarm him.

Or, I suddenly realize, I could do nothing. I knew the “Table of Arcane Echelons” by heart: Ba-Hemod’s Trine was a powerful artifact, but nothing compared to the curse of a Djinn. I didn’t need the powers of a De-Witcher to fix this; only to know that this guy was severely out of his league.

As soon as the gloves grabbed hold of Corey’s dick, the triangular mirror flashed so brightly I felt like I’d been stabbed in the brain. Everyone in the room screamed and the eerie man suddenly flew backward against the wall. The gloves flew from his hands and he lay there, dazed for a moment. The security guards stood there, stunned and blinded, while Corey just hung there helplessly.

I took that moment to run into the room. The eerie man resisted my attempts to lift the amulet from his neck but I gave him a switch knee to the balls that took him down. Once I had donned the chain, I grabbed the gloves and put them on.

Instantly I felt the attempt of the Trine to corrupt my essence. In my mind’s eye I saw ink swirling through crystal waters. “No,” I said, my voice suddenly deep and echoing. I felt my sense turn inward. The Trine was spreading like an infection. The room disappeared, replaced by a starry expanse of space, as I turned my senses inward to deal with the assault.

My powers may have been bound externally, but within my spirit, I was still a very powerful mage. “Profane thing!” I commanded. I watched the entity of the Trine appear as black, thorny vines, swirling and writhing, lashing out at me. It slashed at my face and I grabbed at the wound, reminding myself it was just my astral face. The damage wasn’t real, although I could be overwhelmed if I suffered too much of it. The vines darted out like tentacles but I blasted them with anti-magic. They jerked back as if they had been burned. Around the pulsating mass I formed a large golden band etched with sparkling runes. It constricted around the ebony vines and I heard the Trine’s guttural screams as it fought to resist imprisonment.

Of course it didn’t win. I was the fucking De-Witcher.

With the Trine’s evil force contained, I returned to my physical body. To the rest of the room, half a second had passed, although I did feel trickles of warm blood leaking from my eyes. The first guard lunged at me but I grabbed him by the crotch with the white glove, clenching the black glove into a fist. The guard’s big cock came off in my hand. His huge form disappeared, replaced by a baby duck that fluttered its wings and quacked anxiously as it looked up at me, then waddled for the door.

The next guard swung a meaty fist at me but I grabbed his dick too. As it pulled from his body, he exploded into a cloud of butterflies that floated harmlessly away. The third guard watched the butterflies fluttering, looked down at the duck, and then stared at me. I tossed the disembodied cock in my hands like it was a baseball. He wisely headed for the door. I slammed it shut and locked it behind him.

“What… the absolute… fuck?!” Corey gasped as he looked around.

“Sorry you got roped into this,” I said to him. I could feel the Trine still fighting my control. I needed to get rid of it quickly. “Actually,” I added, “you got yourself into this by hopping up onto stage. So I guess I should say: you’re welcome for saving you.”

Corey shook his head, confused, but the expression broke into gratitude before long. “I kind of… wish I had clothes, I guess,” he said. His body was starting to swell back out to his bigger proportions. I had to keep that in mind: if I continued to drag him around with me, he would constantly change to satisfy the sexual urges of those around him. He didn’t even seem to notice.

I heard the eerie man behind me starting to stir. “Oh god,” he moaned. When he sat up, I saw a face that showed age he hadn’t had before. He was clearly an elderly man now, at least as old as Trey was. I wondered if he was supposed to be. “Oh god,” he said as he patted himself. “I’m free! You freed me!”

“Where did you get this?” I said, wiggling the fingers of the enchanted gloves. I could feel the triangular mirror emanating heat against my chest. It seemed to get hotter every second.

The old man looked around his office as if he was seeing it for the first time. “I… I bought it. I knew it was rare and valuable, but I had no idea…” He started to sob. “Oh god, the things it made me do.”

In truth, the Trine didn’t make him do anything; it just released his darkest desires. Clearly, those were to have gigantic, muscular men with no cocks completely under his control. “Your dancers,” I said. “Where are their dicks?”

I helped him to his feet and he approached his desk. He pulled open a drawer and removed a false panel to produce a key. “My name is Seth,” he said. “It’s been so long. Years. It’s like I can barely remember who I was before I wore that horrible thing.

With the key, he walked to the back of the room, twisting the head of a lion statue around, then inserting the key into its mouth. With a loud whirring sound, the rear wall of the office started to slide aside.

“Were you super-villain rich before you started abusing this thing or did you make all your money enslaving men?” I asked him.

He looked shamefully at the floor. “Well, I had money before, but… Well, you can see how it was a near flawless business plan.”

Sure, I thought. Slavery, as a business plan, was sound as long as morality wasn’t involved.

I could hear the Trine shrieking in my soul as I saw what was behind the wall: shelf after shelf of disembodied cocks, all floating in jars like specimens in a lab.

“At least you saved them,” I snapped at him snarkily.

“If you hold one,” Seth said as he took down a jar, “it’s like you can feel the essence of the man it used to be. And if you play with it, the man can feel it. It’s the most pleasure a man can experience, so if my dancers got disobedient…”

“So,” Corey said as he turned his wide-eyes away from the wall of dicks. “...were you planning on removing my cock and turning me into a big horny ape like those other guys?”

Seth, with his eyes on the floor, shrugged weakly.

I grabbed the cock from his hand. The trine fought me but I just used its powers in reverse. The cock vanished. Somewhere in the building, a massively built man shrank into… whoever he was before.

“Are you going to do it… to all of them?” Seth asked as I took each cock in my hand and sent it back to the man it had been stolen from.

“I’m kind of done talking to you,” I said. There was a bitterness in my voice, a spark of rage, that I knew was coming straight from the Trine. “You’d best keep your distance from me until I’m done.” The last cock I removed from the shelf, I knew as soon as I touched it, was Gideon’s. I got a flash of the musclebloated man, as well as the thin ginger he was before, as I removed the Trine’s power.

As a final gesture, I grabbed the guard’s dark, musky cocks from the floor and undid the magic on them. Somewhere in the building a duckling grew into a man, and a cloud of butteflies congealed into a naked musclehead.

Then I pulled the gloves from my hand. The mirror was so hot it was starting to smoke. I tossed it to the ground and stomped my shoe down on it. As it cracked, I waited to hear the screams of the Trine’s power shattering, but I heard nothing. Without it on my being, I had no connection to it anymore. God damn did I miss my powers.

“I need to know exactly where you got that thing,” I said to Seth, who kept dissolving into whimpers as memories of his misdeeds flashed into his head. “I want an address, phone number, however you found that fucker. Full description. Now.”

Seth shook his head. “Oh god, he was horrifying,” he said. “What a nightmare of a man. Just hearing his voice made me feel cold in my bones.”

In all my days I would never get tired of the way mortals described things they had no frame of reference for.

“He sought me out,” Seth said. “He approached me with that… thing. I don’t know how to find him.”

“Well,” I said, taking a look at my bodyguard, Corey, who had grown even bigger than his natural form. He was a full head taller than me now and looked as heavy as any of the strippers had been before. He didn’t seem to notice, either. I was grateful that the form that satisfied my sexual needs also supplied me with a hell of a lot of muscle on my side.

There were curses in my workshop I had to work on de-witching, of course, but there was also an old man who was supposed to be the man of my dreams. I was ready to go further down whatever path this mystery took me on.