Drafted

 

By Circe

Copyright ©2005 All rights reserved

 

John Spencer yawned mightily as he waited for the scanner to finish copying his latest work.  He glanced at the clock and sighed.  It was past midnight, which meant that some of his fans would be already posting bets on the forum as to when or if he would upload the latest episode of his web comic “Justice for Hire.”

 

Finally the scanner beeped and a window appeared on his computer monitor.  John leaned forward in his chair and smiled as he looked over the digitized cartoon panels.  Jeremiah Justice and his cohorts looked just fine if still in need of some editing.  The first panel showed Jeremiah – a tall, massively muscled figure in stylized tactical gear – leading a very well-endowed woman around his offices.  She was barely dressed in a skimpy business suit that did nothing to disguise her outrageous figure.

 

John smirked, knowing how the male fans would react to her.  His girlfriend and most of the female fans would be less enthused, but he knew what the fans liked.

 

The next few panels showed the woman surreptitiously taking photos with a camera hidden, of course, in a necklace dangling in her vast cleavage as Jeremiah obliviously showed her the office, the armory, and the workout facilities for his band of heroes for hire.  The other members of Justice for Hire did not have any lines in this episode, so John had them doing things in the background. 

 

The Power Twins were arm wrestling, which was a running gag in the comic because one could never beat the other.  He had drawn Chronos standing behind them marking X’s on a calendar.  The wrestling match ended abruptly in the next frame as all three of the men stared with slack jaws at Jeremiah’s voluptuous guest.  In another panel Annie Morph, the teenaged shapeshifter was lounging in front of the TV as a were-lioness.  She was brushing her fur while gabbing with the team’s only other female, Magia.  The dainty but powerful sorceress was rolling her eyes at whatever her feline friend was saying.  Both stared after the visitor with catty expressions, even the human Magia.  In the final frame, the brooding figure of Owl could be seen watching Jeremiah’s guest suspiciously while Jeremiah waved his hands grandiosely at some of the team’s electronic gear.

 

John smiled to himself.  Owl never trusted anyone and would not be distracted by the woman’s charms.  He wondered if any would notice that Annie’s expression, while catty, was also admiring.  He had been planting seeds for a while that there was something more to her character and could not wait to get to that storyline.

 

He was also curious to see if anyone would figure out that the “business woman” was really Lilith, one of his quirkier villains.  She was a limited shapeshifter, able to take on nearly any form as long as it was female, mostly human, and beautiful.  As Jeremiah was finding out, she could also get lusty men to do nearly anything she wanted, such as taking her on a tour of her enemies’ facilities.

 

John grinned as he thought about the revelations he was going to make in the next few episodes.  He set to work on the current image, opening it in his graphics editor so that he could do the inking and shading.  He looked again at the clock and sighed.  “No time for coloring tonight,” he said.  He liked making color images when he could but lately he never had time.  Work, school, and his on-again-off-again relationship with Lisa soaked up most of his time.

 

Finally, long after 1 o’clock he updated the Justice for Hire web site with that night’s episode.  He sighed at the number of postings in the forum.  Someone had even started a poll so people could vote on when they thought he would update.  “Sometime next week” was getting the most votes.  He shook his head.  He knew he was fortunate that people actually read his comic strip but he wished they would remember that he was essentially doing it for free.  He got a few dollars by allowing advertisers on his web page and some of the more die-hard fans donated money, but that barely took care of the costs of hosting the web site.  John hoped that someday he could actually make a living with this hobby but he was not counting on it.

 

He thought about posting in the forum but saw that not only had fans noticed the new episode, they were already starting to post comments on it.  He thought about staying up to read the comments for a while but decided that sleep was more important.  He stood up from his computer desk and had just maneuvered around his drafting table when someone knocked on his door.

 

John looked across his cluttered living room in surprise.  He seldom had visitors to his tiny apartment, let alone at this time of night.  The knock came again, too firmly to be Lisa.  She liked to tap out little rhythms like “Shave and a Haircut” on his door.  Warily, he walked to the door and peered through the peephole.  The fish-eye lens showed him two figures in long coats, one male near the door and a female further back.  The man had a deadpan expression and clean-cut looks that screamed “cop.”

 

John bit his lip and decided to pretend he was not home.  He did not know of anything he had done wrong and had no desire to speak to police this late at night.

 

The man reached up and knocked again.  “Mr. Spencer?” he said in a surprisingly deep voice.  “We know you are there.  Please open the door.”

 

John cursed under his breath but opened the door, leaving the security chain in place.  “Yes?” he said hesitantly.

 

“Ah, Mr. Spencer.  May we come in?” asked the man.  He was slightly shorter than John, but had broad shoulders and a physical presence that instantly intimidated him.  The man had hard green eyes and close-cropped reddish brown hair that was turning grey at the temples.  The woman regarded John silently.  She had ebony hair pulled back into a severe bun that was held in place by some sort of silvery net.  She had a cold beauty with ivory skin, surprisingly red lips, and dark eyes that she kept averted from him.  Her coat was actually a dark fur with silver tips and below its hem John could see she was wearing black leather boots with tall heels.

 

John’s eyes narrowed.  He wasn’t sure what the woman was but he’d never seen a cop so elegantly dressed.  “Let me see your badges.”

 

The man smiled.  “Oh we are not the police, it’s much worse than that.  I’m Mr. Smith, this is Ms. Johnson.  We’re with the government.”

 

John blinked, not sure if that was supposed to be a joke.  “You’re not coming in without some sort of ID.”

 

The man nodded patiently.  “Of course.  Here you are.”  He pulled a small leather case from within his jacket and flipped it open in front of John’s face.  Inside was a photo ID with a large seal of some sort and a very poor picture of the man.  John just had time to make out the name Michael Smith and read the words “Department of Defense” before the man flipped the case closed again.

 

DoD?” said John, turning white.  “Is something wrong with my dad?”

 

“No, no, son.  As far as we know your father is fine.  He’s serving in the South Pacific, correct?”  The man smiled in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring.

 

“OK.  Last chance – tell me who you are or I’m closing the door and calling the police.”

 

“Why do I get all the difficult ones?” sighed the man.  He looked at the woman standing patiently behind him.  “Kestra, would you please?”

 

“Certainly,” she said in a low musical voice.  For the first time her eyes met John’s.  They were midnight black but glinted like jewels.  John was instantly fascinated.  He could spend the rest of the night gazing into those wonderful dark pools.  “Open the door, John, and let us in.”

 

“Sure, of course,” he mumbled and undid the chain so that he could swing the door wide.  He stood aside as the two stepped into his apartment.  A moment later, he shook his head like a swimmer rising from the water and said, “Hey!  How did you do that?”

 

The woman smiled at him and he was reminded of cats stalking mice.  “Magic of course.”

 

The answer was so matter of fact that he found himself unable to reply.  Smith interjected, “Well, technically it was psionics not magic but still quite effective, wouldn’t you say?”

 

John stared at his peculiar visitors and debated about the merits of running through the still open door.  Kestra raised one hand and the door closed itself, the security chain and deadbolt both locking themselves.

 

“You know,” John said conversationally.  “The funny thing is I don’t recall drinking enough to imagine you two.  I’m pretty sure I would have remembered that, unless maybe I drank so much that I don’t remember drinking.”

 

Smith, to John’s complete surprise, laughed loudly.  “I’m sorry Mr. Spencer, that’s one of the better reactions we’ve had.  I assure you that you are completely sober, not hallucinating, and there certainly aren’t any mirrors or wires or other special effects.  The fact of the matter is that magic is quite real.”

 

John looked at the woman who gave him a toothy smile.  “If you require further proof I could always turn you into something small and furry.”

 

“Behave, Kestra, you’ll frighten him.”

 

“A little late for that,” said John, making both of his unwanted guests laugh.  John watched as they removed their coats.  Smith was wearing a somewhat rumpled white dress shirt and dark blue pants.  Kestra wore a tight black blouse and matching skirt that deliciously displayed her sleek figure.  John blushed and decided to change the subject.  “So what does the DoD have to do with magic?  Oh, and who are you really – I mean come on, do really expect me to believe your names are Smith and Johnson?”

 

Smith held up his hands. “John – may I call you John?  Wonderful. You may call me Michael. I appreciate your persistence and I understand your skepticism.  John, we are in what you might call human resources.  We look for people that can serve our country, people that have rather unique talents.”

 

John’s brow furrowed.  “You don’t look like the draft board to me.”  He paused and then deliberately added, “Mr. Smith.”

 

“Ah, keeping things formal then.  That’s fine,” said the agent.  “The draft board?” he mused with a smile.  Kestra rolled her eyes and turned away.  She stalked over to the corner of the room that John jokingly called his office.  “I suppose in a way we are just that.  We are not, however, looking for people to serve in the uniformed services.  The people we seek will serve in elite units, ones that are, shall we say, not in the public eye.”

 

“Special forces?” said John.  “Do I look like I’m Seal or Green Beret material?” He waved his hand at his slightly overweight, non-descript physique.  “Besides, if you know so much about me you know that I volunteered for the Navy but they turned me down because of my asthma, Mr. Smith.”

 

“Yes, of course.”  Behind the agent, John watched Kestra leaning over his drafting board and examining the sketches strewn about its edges with a slight wrinkling of her nose.  “I assure you that asthma will not be a problem for you, nor any other physical issues.  What I am about to tell you will sound quite fantastic but I assure you it is completely true.  You know now that magic is real, yes?” 

 

John nodded slowly.  “I can’t very well deny it.”

 

“Very good.  That is sometimes the biggest hurdle for us to cross.  The government has been aware of magic’s existence for many years.  It has generally been quite weak and not useful for much beyond assisting with certain intelligence gathering operations.  We have therefore kept its reality quiet so as not to encourage radicals or cause concern among the public.  Over the past few years, however, it seems to have gained strength.  People we have worked with for years are suddenly able to do much more than they ever could before, and some people have gained new abilities, like Kestra here.  With me so far?”

 

 “So you’re telling me that magic is coming back?”

 

“Well it never really left but yes, our current theory is that magic seems to have a long cycle where its power will rise and fall.  It appears to be on the rise at the moment and it could not come at a more fortunate time.”

 

John raised an eyebrow.  “China?” he guessed.

 

“Yes, indeed.  The tensions between Taiwan and China have never been greater, which is why so much of our Navy is deployed right now, including your father’s ship.  You no doubt have heard that we have been activating reserve units and recalling retirees.  The next step may be a full draft.”

 

“It’s that bad?  But the president said—“

 

“She says what she must to prevent panic and allow negotiations to proceed.  We can only hope that the peace talks are a success, but my job is to help us prepare in case they are not.”

 

“OK.  And this involves me…how?”

 

Smith smiled briefly.  “Very direct, I like that.  As I said I am putting together a special team, a group of individuals with exceptional abilities – abilities that are more than human.  Something rather like Justice for Hire, though perhaps a bit less apt to blow things up that don’t need blowing up.”  The government agent laughed at his own joke, though neither of the others joined in, leaving an awkward silence.

 

Kestra took the opportunity to hold up one of his sketches.  “Do you need to draw them so big?” she wondered. 

 

John saw that it was a cheesecake drawing of Annie Morph as a bunny girl with her considerable assets lovingly on display.  He blushed furiously.  “It’s, uh, something my fans enjoy,” he said.  Kestra looked dubiously at the curvaceous, long-eared girl in the drawing.  John cleared his throat and returned his attention to his other visitor.  “Let me get this straight.  You’re putting together a superhero team?”

 

Smith waved a hand dismissively.  “We’re trying to avoid that term if possible.  It tends to make our Congressional overseers nervous.  But yes, we are recruiting people with such abilities.”

 

John’s brow furrowed. “My tax dollars at work, great.”  He ran a hand through his hair.  “OK, let’s say for the moment that you both aren’t the result of some particularly bad dream.  Why are you here?  Do you think Justice for Hire is based on real people or something?  Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s sheer fiction.”

 

Kestra laughed, a throaty sound that sent shivers down John’s spine.  Smith merely smiled and shook his head.  “No, not quite.  We are looking for artists in your genre, both writers and graphical people – anyone who creates powerful characters.”  He paused and waved a hand at the drafting table.  “Characters such as your Jeremiah Justice, or the Power Twins for example.  You have a remarkable imagination, John.”

 

Kestra returned to her partner’s side.  “That’s where I come in,” she said.  “I make your dreams into a reality.”

 

John stared at her, then Smith.  Both waited patiently as he digested her comment.

 

“So what you…wave your magic wand or whatever and Jeremiah will appear?”

 

“Close, Mr. Spencer, very close,” said Smith.  “Actually Kestra has mastered a rather unique spell.  It transforms people.  Not just into other people, mind you, but into fictional characters complete with their abilities.  Say, for example, we changed someone into Sherlock Holmes.  They would be every bit as good a detective as the character was.  On the other hand if we used the spell to change someone into, say, a flying superhero they would be able to fly.”

 

“How is that possible?”

 

Kestra shrugged.  “It’s magic, silly boy.”

 

Smith chuckled.  “That’s all the answer she will give us.  It seems that certain things can only be understood by others who are capable of performing magic.  The thing you need to understand is that this is very real and also the reason that we are here.”

 

“It can’t be the whole reason,” John said.  “If you can turn out superheroes there are all sorts of them you can choose from.  Hundreds, even thousands.  Why me?”

 

“Ah, now we come to the heart of the matter.  We cannot pick just any character because so many of their creators have passed away.  We also have to avoid well known people.”  Smith paused.  “You see, the spell only works on those who create the characters.  As I understand it, an artist’s connection to their character is what makes it work.”

 

“Wait a minute, hold on.  You can’t mean – you want to change me into one of my characters?”  Smith and Kestra exchanged a look, and then both nodded slowly.  John sank heavily into a chair and stared at his visitors.

 

“This is the part,” said Smith helpfully.  “Where you insist that we are both crazy and demand that we leave.”

 

John laughed despite himself.  “That thought did cross my mind.  I assume you’ve done this before?”

 

“Yes, although I cannot tell you how many times or with whom until you agree to join the team.”

 

“Has anyone turned you down?”

 

Smith smiled. “No.  We are finding that the temptation is simply too great.  Think about it, John.  Wouldn’t you like to be Jeremiah, for real?  To have his incredible speed and strength, his combat and leadership skills?”

 

Kestra held up another paper, this one with a full color image of Jeremiah in the midst of combat, a blazing gun in each hand and a determined look in his eye.  Her fingertip traced the massively muscled biceps of Jeremiah’s arm.  “Not to mention you’ll be quite a hunk.”

 

Mr. Smith gave Kestra a quizzical look before he continued.  “Our team needs leaders, John.  We have some good members already.  We have what you would call a “brick” – super strong, nearly invulnerable, etc.  We also have a speedster and we just added a gadgeteer.  There are others as well but they need someone who can bring them together and mold them into an effective team.

 

“Your Jeremiah Justice is just the type of person we’re looking for.  He’s a great fighter but a better leader.  He overcomes the oddities of your other characters and makes them work together.  You could be that person for us, John.  You could serve your country like your father, just as you wanted to when you volunteered before.”

 

John sat back in his chair, completely at a loss for words.  “And if I say no?” he wondered at last.

 

Mr. Smith paused for just a moment and then smoothly said.  “Why would you?  After all you already volunteered—“

 

“I didn’t volunteer to have my body transformed into someone else’s.  You also said I would have Jeremiah’s leadership skills, which are not something I have.  That means that I’d be getting at least some of his personality too.  So you’re talking about changing more than just my body, aren’t you?”  John looked the government agent squarely in the eye.  “So, what if I say no?”

 

“I told you he was smarter than the others,” said an amused Kestra. “Go on, tell him.”

 

Her partner sighed.  “Very shrewd.  First let me assure you that you will still remember being John and have most of his personality.”  He paused before reluctantly continuing.  “You were closer to the truth than you knew when you wondered if we were with the draft board.  The government has given me the power to draft the people I need if they will not choose to serve.  I want you to know, though, that I have never had to use that power – you’re the first one to make me admit it even exists.  Everyone on the team is a volunteer…so far.”

 

John stared at the pair of them for several long minutes, fighting the temptation to dive out of his apartment window, fly down the fire escape, and run screaming like a lunatic down his street.  “Can I have some time to think about it?”

 

“No,” said Kestra firmly.  “Tonight is the last night for almost a month that the mana will be in the proper alignment.”

 

“She’s very particular about that, not that I can claim to understand it,” said Smith.  He sighed.  “I wish we had more time but we simply cannot wait a month.  We only learned of you a few days ago and of course had to do our background investigation before we could proceed.  We need to do this tonight.”  He reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew a packet of folded papers along with a pen.  “Just sign these, Mr. Spencer, and we can get started.”

 

John numbly took the papers and skimmed through them.  They looked a great deal like the papers he had signed when he volunteered years before.  He held the pen and tapped it against his head as he read through the legalese and debated.

 

“Smith, we have to get this done,” urged Kestra.

 

“Patience, Kestra.”  Mr. Smith leaned forward and looked intently at John.  “You’ve already volunteered so we know how you feel about serving your country.  Now you can do it, and at the same time you can make one of your own creations come to life.”

 

John closed his eyes for a moment, and then swiftly, decisively signed his name.  Smith shook his hand and gathered up the sheaf of papers.  “Outstanding.  Welcome to the team.” 

 

John ignored him as he watched Kestra.  She was behind Smith and busily laying out a long scroll.  She drew a piece of chalk from her purse and made a gesture with her hand.  The chalk jumped from her grasp and began drawing a circle around John that included a number of odd symbols he did not quite recognize.   That complete, she began to read from the scroll in a stern, rolling chant.

 

John blinked at the magical chalk and the sudden whirlwind of activity.  “What, right now?” he asked.  “Can’t we wait a little?”

 

“You heard the lady,” Smith said with a shrug.  “It has to be tonight, and tonight will soon be over.”  He gestured to the window where the eastern sky was just starting to lighten.

 

John bit his lip.  This was all going so fast.  He could barely restrain a rising excitement within though.  He was about to give up his weak, asthmatic body for the superhuman, ruggedly handsome form of Jeremiah Justice.  He could even feel the first stirrings of change in his body as Kestra continued chanting.  He felt dizzy and flushed as though with a fever.  His skin felt alive and very sensitive, especially in a few places.  A thought occurred to him as he realized just where those sensitive spots were.

 

“Smith!” he croaked, his throat feeling as though its muscles were rebelling against his commands.  “How—how does the spell know—which character?”

 

Smith smiled reassuringly.  “Don’t worry, it makes you into the one you most closely identify with.  All of you artists tend to have a character that is ‘you’, right?  Of course that’s always the hero with you superhero comic guys so you’ll soon be turning into – Sweet Jesus!” 

 

Smith could perhaps be forgiven for his outburst, as John was certainly not turning into Jeremiah or Jesus for that matter.  This fact was made quite clear by the twin growths occurring rapidly under John’s shirt.  In seconds they were stretching the shirt’s material tightly, until a few buttons gave up the ghost and allowed John’s new, firm, and generously female breasts to bounce into view.

 

For his part John was surprisingly calm about growing breasts that would make any stripper envious.  In fact, he loved them at first sight.  They were so full and soft and perfect.  He raised his hands to cup them and rub at his tender new nipples and saw with delight that his fingers were now slim and tipped with long pointed nails.  He tossed back his hair as it grew wildly from his head in golden ringlets that rolled down his altering body to hang below his inflating bottom.  John pursed his bee-stung lips.  “I think you made a little boo-boo, Mr. Smith,” he said in a sultry soprano as his pants abruptly slid off his hips to hit the floor with a thump.  The legs that were revealed were sleek and perfectly feminine.

 

“This can’t be.  You geeks always want to be the big strong hero.  Kestra must have made a mistake.”  He looked towards the mage, but she was still chanting and oblivious to what was happening before her.  “We’ll fix it, Mr. Spencer.  Somehow.”

 

“Who says I want anything fixed,” giggled John.  He gasped at a twisting in his flat little tummy, making his gloriously rounded ass wiggle and his new breasts bounce.  “Oh my,” he said breathily.  “I don’t think you need to call me ‘mister’ anymore,” she said.

 

Smith stared in amazement at the beautiful, if somewhat overstated, woman that just moments before had been a slightly pudgy webcomic artist.  Nothing of John’s features remained in her vixen-like face with its narrow chin and high cheekbones, its full lips and enormous green eyes.  She did not seem to be dismayed by what had happened to her.  Her hands were happily roaming over her womanly curves and she was actually cooing in delight.

 

Kestra’s voice finally halted its chant and the sorceress sagged into the couch.  “That one always takes a lot out of me,” she muttered.  She looked up and her eyes widened.  “That’s not Jeremiah Justice.”

 

“You have a gift for understatement, partner,” said Smith.  “Who is she?”

 

John looked up from exploring her new body.  “Tsk, tsk, and here I thought you two did your homework.  Maybe this will help.”  John’s new feminine form went through a second transformation, this one so rapid that the other two only had a vague sense of flesh moving, rearranging itself, and then John was no longer the voluptuous blonde; in her place stood a tall, elegant woman with dark hair. 

 

Kestra’s mouth dropped open as she recognized her own face on John’s new body.  “You’re that shape-shifter, Annie Morph!”

 

John smiled at Kestra with the mage’s own lips.  “Close,” she said in Kestra’s alto tones.  “But not quite.  How about our other contestant?”

 

Smith groaned as realization struck him.  “Lilith.  You’re Lilith!  But that doesn’t make any sense, she’s a villain.  You should be the character that is you in the comic—oh.”

 

The new woman grinned at him and then did her trick again, returning to the buxom blonde form.  “You should have told me that before we got started,” she said.  “Now it’s too late, isn’t it?”

 

“Nonsense, you don’t have any offensive powers.  You’re just a shapeshifter and not a particularly powerful one.  We need Jeremiah!  I’m sure Kestra—“

 

“Not tonight I can’t,” interrupted the sorceress.  “I told you it takes a lot out of me.  We’ll have to wait for the next alignment and try again.”

 

“I don’t think I was clear,” the former man said with a smirk on her full lips.  “It is too late because I am not going to let you change me again.”

 

Smith snorted.  “Not going to let us?  John, be reasonable.  This will never do and besides you did sign up—“

 

“John may have signed those papers, but I didn’t, you naughty boy.  I’m me,” she said, then laughed at herself.  “I mean I’m Lilith now.  Forever.”

 

“Alright, that does it.”  The government agent reached out as though to take her by the arm.  As his fingers touched her skin, though, he realized he no longer wanted to grab her, or at least not in the same way.  He stroked the smooth flesh of her arm, fascinated by the silky texture and her warmth.

 

Kestra’s eyes widened as she watched the normally taciturn agent caressing the transformed boy.  She was sure she could overcome whatever the bitch was doing to him, but she needed some time to get her power back after the exhausting spell.  “John, Lilith, whatever you want to call yourself – let him go.  I’m sure he was just being a little hasty.  Let him go and we can talk about it.”

 

“I don’t think so, I like him better this way.”  Lilith smiled at Kestra sweetly and ruffled Smith’s graying red hair.  “Too pooped to party aren’t you?  That’s ok; you can just lie there and play with yourself quietly.”

 

Kestra growled as she lay down on the couch.  That rude little bimbo, she thought to herself.  I’m going to teach her some manners as soon as I’m done… Her hands were already busy, gliding over her curves and shoving her blouse down so that she could tease her nipples.  They had never been so hard before.  She looked desperately at Lilith.

 

“That’s right, sweetie, my powers work on girls too.”  Lilith giggled in delight.  “Oh this is going to be fun,” she said as she watched Kestra frantically sliding out of her skirt.  Finally the mage was wearing nothing but her boots as she writhed on the couch and pleasured herself.

 

“How…are…you doing…this?” rasped Smith.  His hands never left Lilith’s body though, one even moving down her tiny waist to explore the changes that had taken place between her legs.

 

“My you are a stubborn one aren’t you?  I haven’t revealed everything about Lilith yet, silly boy.  I was saving that for future episodes and now you’ve gone and spoiled the surprise.”  She giggled at her own joke.  “You see, Lilith is a seductress, not just a shapeshifter.  She can control others through their desires.”  She grinned widely.  “Oh, and that power is not just mental, you know.”

 

Smith groaned loudly as his pants rapidly developed a tent between his legs, a tent that grew, and grew, until his erection was clearly outlined by the taut fabric.  “Too big,” he panted.  “I was never that big!”  With that, his pants split with a sharp tearing noise and his penis thrust into view.  It was enormous, over a foot long and still swelling.

 

Lilith watched raptly, her curiosity piqued.  For the first time she felt a sweet aching emptiness between her legs.  “Wow,” she breathed.  “I think you’re right, that is too big.  I’m not sure I’m ready for it…yet.”  She extended her newfound powers again and his rampant cock began to dwindle, its proud length rapidly withdrawing into the tattered remnants of his pants.

 

Smith winced at a sharp twisting in his stomach.  “What just happened?” she said in a voice that was easily two octaves higher than it had been a moment ago.

 

“Turnabout is fair play, ‘Miss’ Smith.  You took away my penis, so I took away yours and gave you a nice soft pussy instead.  Don’t worry, though, I gave your penis to Kestra for safekeeping.” 

 

Smith gaped at Lilith and then looked at Kestra.  It was true.  His penis, or rather an enlarged version of his penis, thrust skyward from the sorceress’s sleek thighs.  She was moaning in shock and delight as her hands stroked lightly along the veined length of her new shaft.

 

Lilith watched the scene with interest for a few minutes and then looked at the emasculated agent.  “You make an ugly girl though, Michael.  Or should it be Michelle now?  We’ll have to fix that.”

 

The newly minted Michelle felt a wave of vertigo and realized that she had to look up now to meet Lilith’s eyes.  She felt her breasts bobbing on her chest and her hair brushing at her neck and knew instantly what had happened.  She cupped her new breasts and sighed happily at the sensation.  She knew she should not like this, that her feelings were being manipulated.  She just could not find it in herself to be mad at Lilith.  “Am I pretty?” she finally asked.

 

“You’re beautiful, Michelle,” Lilith assured her.  The agent was indeed a breathtaking sight. She was petite and looked barely out of her teens.  Her long red hair was tied back in twin ponytails that trailed over her slim shoulders and full perky breasts.  Dazzling green eyes were set in a fresh, innocent face that hinted at barely concealed naughtiness.  “Now go play with Kestra while I think about what I want to do next.”

 

The new girl scampered happily over to the couch and knelt next to her altered partner.  She hardly hesitated before adding her hands to Kestra’s and began stroking the enlarged cock that had once been hers.  A few moments later she did not hesitate at all when Kestra pressed the rounded glans to her soft new lips.  She began licking enthusiastically, making the sorceress yelp. 

 

Michelle knew she should be embarrassed but instead she found that she loved the feeling of that massive shaft in her hands and the salty, musky taste of it.  She decided she needed more, much more, so she lowered her head over her former penis and took as much of it as she could into her tiny mouth.

 

Lilith watched her two pets playing with each other with a delighted smile, giggling at the wide-eyed expression on Michelle’s face as she tried to take more of Kestra’s manhood into the soft confines of her mouth.  A thought occurred to her and Kestra’s form abruptly rearranged itself, her hair becoming thick and red, her breasts perky, her face younger, until she looked just like Michelle with the notable exception of her improbable penis.  A tattoo appeared on both girls’ heart-shaped bottoms, flowery script with their names above the words “Property of Lilith.” 

 

“Congratulations, ladies,” whispered Lilith to her oblivious pets.  “You’ve just been drafted.”

 

THE END (for now…)